#this motherfucker decided to set her on fire and call it a day

[finnicks-elbow]

cinna decided to battle politics with high fashion garments because he was in his bad bitch era 💅

[elkian]

Thinking about Tacoma again bc man like, the way it handles hope and fear really gets to me.

(note: BIG SPOILERS for Tacoma below)

Seriously, spoilers.

One thing that really gets to me is that at the veeeeery end of the game, we see what happened. The goals, the choices.

This is crucial in a lot of ways, but a key one is: the memorial message was same-day.

They had 48-ish hours of oxygen. They were supposed to go into cryo immediately. There didn’t seem to be further instructions to ensure their demise.

This fucker really said “bust the tanks and block the comms“ and called it a day.

And I think that’s a really fascinating commentary on the characters involved: Odin, Ventura, and the crew, all in different ways (Amy and H, too, but that’s not quite contemporary with my point here).

Ventura, a rich fucker who has had things handed to him his whole life, who was born into money and then was shocked to find out that he wasn’t naturally good at keeping the money flowing, people getting angry at him, Ventura makes a choice (he did make a choice, regardless of the advice he received to reach it). Ventura decides to sacrifice the crew of the Tacoma.

And this moron. This imbecile. This motherfucker makes a same-day grief message.

I cannot overstate how idiotic this is, but I need to contextualize.

He really thought the crew would die immediately. He either didn’t know or didn’t think about the limited O2 reserves. The fire appeared to be accidental, so if it wasn’t planned they theoretically had even longer.

But the key here is the crew.

The entire point of the Tacoma crew is that they are just Regular People. They aren’t supposed to be well-known, famous, popular. They are a checkmark on the 30-step plan to undermining Union efforts.

And these regular people keep doing regular people things. Human things.

They keep trying.

Odin is presented as borderline omniscient, both to the player and seemingly to the crew. Omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, etc. When he doesn’t present a suggestion in the first recording, it feels like a death knell.

But immediately following, we see the crew trying. E.V. leverages the cryo chambers to buy more time for the people who can fix things. Andrew, who is absolutely a little confused right now, who has been both too optimistic and devastatingly pessimistic, almost immediately does something with an algae bloom that is supposed to buy even more time (would have, if not for the fire). Even when the crew disagrees, even when they’re afraid or confused or angry, they don’t just give up.

And I wonder if Odin sees this, if he’s watching this- if the crew didn’t immediately go into cryo, didn’t immediately blame him or each other for everything gone wrong, didn’t immediately fall into despair... what does it mean for him?

As far as we can tell, Odin didn’t have a choice in the matter. He knew (we see conversations he theoretically shouldn’t have had access to, in the end chamber) that the crew was being sacrificed, or at the very least knew they weren’t meant to make it out.

If Odin watches these people, people he was told didn’t have a choice and didn’t have options, and he watches them repeatedly innovate and cooperate and monopolize on every second available to them, trying things he hadn’t guess they would have thought of to survive... if they defy the fate Venturis set for them, can he as well?

And in the end, everyone has helped in some way. Sareh ends up in something of a heroic role, but she didn’t get there alone (and she didn’t get there without her relationship with Odin - something, we see in her history, that might not have been easy for her). And yeah, in reality, it’s a little optimistic to think everyone can help in a crisis, but it works for Tacoma.

And something I find really interesting is, I played through commentary mode, and almost none of this really came up in the dev commentary. Which makes me wonder how much of this was subconscious.

Like, of course Ventura never expected this outcome: not only is he used to getting his way (probably used to Juno getting her way, one way or another), but he’s lived his whole life in the top of the corporate echelon. And given what we know about most billionaires and Fortune 500 CEOs, all further exaggerated in this future, I think it’s very likely that the idea that people in trouble would cooperate to escape rather than shove each other underwater to buy a second for themself alone is beyond his comprehension.

The message isn’t that everything will always be okay, but it is that when we try to help each other, it makes the world a little easier to bear.

[m-s-knarp]

I'm the coolest motherfucker on the team.

Okay, sure, it's not too high of a bar to cross when by "team" you mean "group of six 6th graders huddled on one side of the chess club room to finish their assigned task of designing a chess set". Still. Objectively, anyone who knows me would say the same.

I've got it all: ✓ I swear (see: first line). ✓ I raise my middle finger at my parents when they piss me off. (They're usually already walking away, so they never get to see it in time.) ✓ I wear dark clothes. (Yeah, I'm a girl, and I HATE pink!) ✓ I have friends on the internet. (Most people I know don't even have computers.) ✓ I have the brawns. (I'm really good at table tennis. I just don't like playing other sports, but I'd probably be really good too.) ✓ I have the brains. (As you've astutely observed, I'm in the chess club. AND I used an 8th grade word.) ✓ And most importantly, I don't care what anyone thinks.

I mean, I'm basically perfect.

So when Polly -- the only other girl in the circle we've formed around our pile of construction paper, glue, and glitter -- is this slow, ignorant, childish, and, well, honestly average-looking at best girly girl, but still having everyone fawn over her…

Lame. I subconsciously make a face at her as she carefully slides the glue stick over a purple square one of the boys cut from our pack of multicolored paper. She glances up at me for a moment, looks down, and back at me again. I can't blame her, I mean I'm--

"Hehe," Polly puts a fist over her lips and giggles.

As the other members in our group turn their heads toward me, I realize my face is contorted in a way that's simply uncool.

10 milliseconds in, I think: "Shit."

Another 30 milliseconds after: my face goes back to resting position.

The remaining 20 milliseconds before a second has passed: "Alright. I'm fast. I'm safe."

I was not fast. I was not safe.

One of the boys snorted when he saw my expression.

"Hey, it's one of them tengu masks we saw in class the other day!" He so very kindly commented.

Great. This bitch. But I can't let them see I'm fazed. I'm not. I'm cool, after all.

"Shut up!" I snapped at the boy. There was a slight crack, both in my voice and in between my lips, as a little bit of dribble escaped my mouth and landed on my knee. It's over.

I quickly wiped it away with my black hoodie sleeve, but once again I was too slow, evidently, as another boy started wheezing. Maybe today's just not my day, but even if I conclude the situation like a mature adult in my head, my heart just continued pumping blood into my face faster. Fuck tengus, and fuck the teacher who decided eastern culture was something we needed to learn about. (I don't actually mean it. Anime is SO awesome. Too bad it's too cool for anyone in this city.)

I stood up and walked away, but not without saying my signature phrase.

"Wh-- Whatever."

Nailed it. Barely.

I sat in the bathroom stall, waiting for time to pass by. I'm not returning to that ugly nerd den. My mom didn't let me get a touchscreen phone yet, so I took my blue pen out of my pocket and started scribbling on my arm.

I forgot to mention that I'm artistic too. You can tell because I can draw eyes that look pretty much realistic. Like I said, total package.

I was halfway into drawing 4 stickmen about to have an epic spear battle when I heard the main bathroom door open and creak shut.

"Lizzy?" A dumb sweet voice called out. Idiot. Stupid. God, I hate her.

I stay quiet for a second, but I realize how embarrassed I might look if she found out I was here and just didn't respond. Fine. You want to play this game. I assure you, you can't make me look more moronic than you. My heart beats a little quicker as I reach for the lock to slide it open.

"It's Eli, dumbass," I said, opening the stall door and reemerging from the shadows cast by the walls. "No one calls me that."

If anyone else saw me just then, they'd forget all about the dumpster fire mess from earlier and start wondering again what color the motorcycle I most likely have is. (It would be black with red flames, of course.)

When I looked down at this short, meek, and rabbit-resembling girl, she shook. Tears had obviously already began to form in her eyes at just the thought of being in my presence. Yeah, that's right, I'm a terrifying force. Don't fuck with me.

Yet the tengu comparisons would die out by now, very quickly, as my face turned from dark red to pale peach. Why is she crying? I don't wanna get in trouble with the teachers.

"Sorry," she started, and then looked down. She was clearly choosing her next words very carefully. "I also want to apologize for earlier. I thought you were trying to make me laugh to trip me up."

She started picking at one of her perfectly manicured nails. "It worked."

Yeah, right. She's always been graceful, talented, and neat. Even if it was my intention, which unfortunately it wasn't, it wouldn't have done jack shit. Or would have done? I've gotta Google how to use that phrase later.

I snap out of it and look at her again. "Whatever."

Polly quickly jolts her head up again and locks her widened eyes with me.

"Wait, did you draw that?" She points at one of the scribbles on my arm. It's a simple drawing of Reborn from hit anime series, "Katekyou Hitman Reborn!" which means "Hitman Tutor Reborn". I think. That's what the comment on Part 3 of Episode 2 on Youtube said. And then he said something in Spanish.

"Yeah, it's from this anime," I smirked. "You've probably never heard of anime before." Honestly, for a moment, I felt excited, it sounded like she recognized it, but…what are the odds. Ah, there's the familiar pang. Even if I show her even just a screenshot of the anime, she's gonna call it a cartoon and go back to her perfect little bubble. The disrespect.

"Are you talking about Reborn?"

…

I searched her face for any indication of a prank. Or a single lie. Her? Is this really possible?

Yes. She's for real.

For nearly 2 years, I could talk to only my online BFFs on Facebook and Skype about my favorite anime. I had no one to talk about the newest seasonal series or use -chan with. Not even someone to eat cup noodles and pretend to be Naruto with. All of a sudden, here's someone I can talk to about senpais, cherry blossoms, and beautiful moons.

Alright.

Fine.

I give in.

Whatever.

Maybe she's a little cool after all.

[specklesofdust]

may 17th 2023

i found out some really fucked up and dauntingly devastating and drastic dreary news within the last month 

basically was brought to the realization that jennifer and reggie have been fucking each other for lord knows how long and i have a strong hunch that they both murdered dave her ex bf. i should have known that she was going to try and be ultimately attracted to anyone that i have shown love towards bc she is a snide little kniving jealous cunt tbh and honestly one of the most selfish people i have ever met in the entirety of my existence and same goes to reggie. he is a selfish pimp who acts like a preacher and has been trying to infiltrate my life by fucking as many of my homegirls as possible. i think that he enjoys having white women below him bc he literally thinks that white women are beneath him... either way i called both of them out and reggie of course just threw a bunch of shit and stormed out of the his apt and came back like 3 hours later drunk and yelling at me so hard that even his own dog was defending my honor... jen just said “i have nothing left to give to you. it feels good and we aren’t gonna stop... is it really this easy to get away with murder? and then she beat mackenzie up or tried to but mackenzie is scappy and ripped out a bunch of jens hair so she can get all twisted in that bullshit and jen told me it was bc she saw mackenzie flirting with gator this dude she set me up with when in reality gator and mackenzie have had a thing going on for a while and jen wanted to beat mackenzie up bc mackenzie fucked reggie too. good luck to you reggie for fucking around with jens crazy ass bc that is called karma. also....if jen thinks that she is the alpha bitch...she has not met erica yet then because i am team erica all the way bae bae. i hope that erica checks jennifers ass bc its about damn time that someone does. that bitch prevented me from going to donnies funeral bc she woke me up from the couch slapping me in the face bc she thought her bf at the time was trying to hit on me in my sleep.... fuck that bitch bc she was the one trying to take things from me this entire time and she even told me that she will always be jealous of me on this last PCB girls trip we had and that is a sure fire sign to stay the fuck away from that spawn forever and if she or reggie see me in public, they should probably most definitely not engage with me. fuck him man and fuck her and i am finally okay with being able to say fuck those motherfuckers and they are gonna get whatever is coming to them because their intentions are not good and they are selfish and liars and murderous villains. I am so sick of being interested in men who are literally just liars who act like little boys when their truths are exposed

i have decided that i am finally going to move the fuck away from nashville by july hopefully... this town is literally boring to me now and that last little drama with jen and reggie and mackenzie and whoever the fuck else he has tried to put his nares into and whomever else willfully allowed him to, they are not good people are it just reminds me of how foolish i was to trust people that i was being a good friend to but i will not be discouraged i just keep on getting stronger and harnessing my power and i have no space for anything but grace these days. 

any other type of evil can motherfucking PHUCK AWF 

oh and also.... i started my period and regular cycle again on may 11th officially... yayyyyyy jen asked ashley to ask me for the abortion pills she leant me after our dramatic PCB trip when i found out shes been fucking reggie for lord knows how long and how ironic... hopefully she figures all of that shit out forreal though but ya know what? fuck that bitch. fuck him. fuck their fucking and fuck yes to me because i am back in cycle with my sync and the haters are all just sad and ego bruised devoid dungeons of despair and i really just don’t have time to care if they are there. 

BOOOOM 

[henrydeaverissickoftheseghosts]

... def haunted by the miserable ghost of a Colonial pastor cursed for crimes against humanity.

*As always, I do not own the home. This is fictional and any resemblance to nouns - past and present - is purely coincidental and accidental. This is a joke. Buy this house.*

Wiscasset, Me was initially settled in 1660, though it was abandoned until around 1730 (CROATOAN). The house was finished 10 years later and was inhabited by a pastor, his wife, 3.7 children, and a fuckton of farm animals. The pastor, we'll call him Rufus because time decided that his name doesn't matter because he was a rat bastard, built a church on his land so that his congregation would have to come to him. Rufus was that guy. If psychology wasn't considered witchcraft in those days, he would have been diagnosed with co-occurring Narcissistic and Antisocial Personality disorders. Point of fact, one woman had the ovaries to tell him full stop what a tool he was and she was summarily dipped into the sea like a Dairy Queen Dipped Cone.

As such, errybody kept their mouths shut most of the time whenever Rufus was around and even when he wasn't because that asshole had supersonic hearing. He was probably a minion of Satan if we're being honest. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

He and his wife, Deliverance, whose name was correctly retained by Time because Time just felt really badly for her and decided she mattered enough to be fully recollected, did not choose to marry Rufus. She was actually forced into this life thanks to money, some goats, and several donkeys (as was the way) and she was hella pissed about it. Historians described her reaction as thus, 'Gotdamn motherfucking bullshit is what this is, I swearest to God. Certainly this is a jest of the highest order.' It was not. Poor Deliverance, whose name would eventually prove to be so ironic.

Begrudgingly, Deliverance married him in the church on the property and suddenly, as if by magic, found herself pregnant and still hella pissed. She popped out 3.7 children - Henry, Elizabeth, Josiah, and Thirza - the latter being the .7 of their brood (whatever that fucking means). Rufus did not care a lick about any of them aside from their blind obedience; however, he did choose Deliverance and her spicy attitude came with her and was passed along to their children as a cosmic fuck you to Rufus' controlling ways. Ain't nobody feeling badly for Rufus but Rufus.

This house was more war zone under the guise of God than home. God, not incredibly happy that this guy (this fucking guy) was using His name and Word as a justification for abusing his family, decided he'd had enough. Deliverance also decided around the same time that she had reached her limit. Both of them separately set in motion a series of events that led to poor Rufus' ultimate demise, though not by anyone's hand. More on that in a mo.

Deliverance had been dabbling here and there in witchcraft because she knew it would piss him off and, well, if she got the Great Dip... this would all be over and she'd be in Heaven so fuck it. Wait. Before you get all up in arms about the 3.7 kids, she had made arrangements for them, should something happen to her, to be secreted away in the middle of the night and taken to her eccentric aunt in Salem, Mass.

Ol' girl is a heroine, no lie. She preferred minor inconveniences to anything painful or horrific, so her spells primarily spoiled the milk, withered the plants, prevented fires from staying lit, shrunk Rufus' clothing, etc. Honestly, Deliverance was a good-hearted woman who just enjoyed cussing, loved God, and wanted to be married to a man who knew her worth and wouldn't abuse her, which is apparently asking a lot even by today's standards.

God, doing His thing to help out, sent some germs into the township that shockingly only affected Rufus. He contracted Yellow Fever, Malaria, and Smallpox. Bad luck, chuck. The kitchen above remained cold and no fires burned throughout the entirety of Rufus' illness per Deliverance's minor inconveniences. No doctors were sent for his care because no one really wanted to get involved. People had a tendency to go missing in terrible ways whenever Rufus was involved, whether they were helping him or not, so everyone just whistled and looked around at the sky a lot.

Eventually, Rufus died of natural causes and was interred in an unmarked grave somewhere in the woods, but the old bastard found his way back to the house. Deliverance, who had maybe about 6 months of peace, found her house haunted by this asshole, which was legit the last damn straw. She sent the children to Salem and proceeded to lock herself inside the above room with the thought of exorcising his spirit or to die trying. Sadly, the latter occurred. The townsfolk, hearing the loud banging and strange words coming from Deliverance's home, barged in one evening carrying pitchforks and torches. They found the poor woman in the secret room covered in moss and feathers.

Since it was the 1700s after all, Deliverance was tried as a witch and given the Great Dip, but she was good with it. Her last words were documented as, 'smash the patriarchy! It was worth the moss and feathers! Thank you, Jesus! I've been delivered! See what i did there with my name? Lolz. Delivered. Deliverance. I'm funny.'

She does not haunt this house as her spirit is chilling in peace on a cloud in the sky in Heaven, having been delivered away from that bastard for good. Rufus is stuck here in a strange sort of limbo, which is Hell for him because no one sees him but he sees everyone so his desire for attention and praise are never met. He also cannot hurt people/animals or set fire to things so he's having a really bad go of it. Serves him right. This particular consequence was a gift from God. He cursed Rufus to this fate for crimes against humanity and for using His name and Word to be an abusive, misogynistic dickhead.

By my research, their children went on to become champions for the people in honor of their mom who endured excessive torment at the hands of Rufus the Rat Bastard throughout her fairly short life. They also disowned their father. Byeeeeee, beeitch.

I was not able to find anything about the true history of this house. I'm supes sad about that because it truly is beautiful and I imagine it has a rich history full of many, many people. It is selling for $1,395,000 so it's well outside of my price range, but it might be without yours. I don't know. I don't know you or your SES. I'd probably buy this house if I were able to do so. Also, I believe the red building that I wrote as a church is actually an antique store (see above), which is crazy cool and so very New England that I simply cannot even. I love it. Buy this house.

[mercy-burning]

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh,  Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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Let It Be Me

Summary: Choi San is many things. The most talented man you have ever seen. Be it on the dance floor or in front of a mic during a gig. He was the kindest person, always holding the door for the people behind him, helping the elderly carry things, even paying for strangers randomly. He got along famously with your parents and even better with your grandparents. He was charming like that, capturing the attention of anyone and everyone who even looked his way. He’s the love of your life, you’re sure of it but he’s also your best friend. Pairing: Boy Band AU!Choi San x F!Reader Words: 5.6k Genre: Angst/Smut

You’ve heard of a thing called platonic soulmates but it’s taken you years and years of watching Choi San grow to realize you weren’t. Well, you hoped you weren’t. Everything about him made your body erupt into a fire.

San looked at everything with adoration, finding all the good in life, including you. It was a double-edged sword, really. It made you feel special… important. But you could barely concentrate when his eyes were on you.

It didn’t help that he was gifted in pretty much everything; it made you nervous beyond belief. He’s pretty much perfect and as much as you wanted to be with him, you knew the odds of him liking you back were slim to none.

You’ve come to terms with it for the most part. It hurt to see him flirt with girls in front of you, hurt even worse when he started dating this awful girl named Areum. She didn’t give a fuck about him, actually. She barely responded to his calls and texts, going as far as blocking him one time. They fought nonstop. Every time you two hung out, San had a new dilemma to talk about. For some reason, San wouldn’t break up with her.

You had asked him after a night of you two getting drunk together, after another night of listening to his relationship problems. He laughed dryly, taking another sip of his beer, “I love her so much.”

Apparently, it was his “slow-motion” moment. He and his band had been wrapping up the night with their last song, soaking up every second they could have. Halfway through the song, San had noticed Areum in the front row. You were there too so you noticed the look on his face. A look you had never seen him make before. It basically tore your heart out when he told you that he couldn’t get “that beautiful girl” out of his head. She ended up becoming a dedicated face in the crowd so San asked her out.

You would’ve thought they were soulmates from the way they looked in the beginning. Lord only knows how they got to this point. How you got to this point, with San crying in your lap.

It was 10:00 pm when someone started banging on your door. You were enjoying a cup of coffee but you almost had a heart attack at that moment. You opened the door with shaking hands, hoping that whatever killer was on the side wasn’t actually a killer. Instead, you saw your best friend, with swollen red eyes, sniffling.

“Oh my god, San! You scared— what’s wrong?” You immediately dragged him in, locking the door behind you. He sniffled again as he slumped into your couch. You took a seat next to him and took his hand in yours. “Was it another fight?” You knew it wasn’t. In all the fights you had heard, San never cried.

“She was cheating on me… this whole time.” He hiccuped as he talked.

“That bitch.” You said under your breath. You held onto his hand a little tighter, trying to contain your anger.

“I went to her house tonight because she wasn’t responding to me again. I wanted to talk it out with her but she opened her front door in her underwear with some motherfucker sitting on her couch!” Although you had many words to say with Areum, you were speechless in front of San. What were you supposed to say? All you could do was scoot back on the couch and guide San's head onto a pillow in your lap.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You ran your fingers through his hair, “You can cry for as long as you want.”

And cry he did.

____

The next morning was hard. You woke up on your couch sitting up-right with a terrible case of stiff-neck. That’s not the only reason it was hard. No, it was worse seeing San still laying on your lap. He was wide-awake, dark eye bags contrasting against his face. His eyes stared deep into the ceiling.

“What’re you thinking about, Sannie?” You started to run your fingers through his hair again and watched as his eyes fluttered shut, his body instantly relaxing.

His eyes opened again, “Why didn’t she love me?” You couldn’t respond, not that he let you. “I knew we weren’t perfect, knew she wasn’t perfect… but we always made it through the end of the day. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

“It’s her loss.” You finally said. “You don’t need her anyway. It was her decision to cheat and you had nothing to do with it.”

San didn’t say anything after that, just continued to stare at your ceiling.

___

The first few weeks were the hardest for sure. San had spent most of them at your place, barely leaving even for band practice. When he did practice with the guys he would leave early, only strumming a few chords on his guitar before deciding that it reminded him too much of Areum.

“He’s been really out of it.” Yunho, the bassist commented one time. San hadn’t even played that day. He just sat in the corner for an hour. You stayed behind for a few minutes and told San to wait in the car. You wanted to catch up with the other band members.

“Can you blame him? That bitch was… well, a bitch.” Wooyoung shot back, setting his drum sticks down.

“How has he been holding up?” Hongjoong asked.

You scoffed, “Have you seen the man? I don’t even think San’s there anymore! God, if I see her, it’s on sight!”

You did your best to help him through those weeks. You had been through a few hard breakups in the past so you understood that the early stages were the worst. You even used up all of your sick time to stay home with him. You had never seen him this gloomy. At one point, he went through five pints of ice cream in three days.

____

It took three months for San to be even remotely okay. He started going to practice more and this time, he actually played. You couldn't say you were surprised. San loved playing with the band and you knew it was probably the only thing that would bring him out of his funk.

"You look good, man!" Hongjoong slapped his hand on San's back playfully and for the first time in months, San had his usual dimpled smile.

"I feel good." He replied, setting down his guitar and taking a seat next to you on the beat-up couch. "It's thanks to you, y/n"

Your eyes widened. "Me?"

He nodded. "You stayed up with me, didn't go to work, even made me breakfast when you knew I didn't have the energy to get off your couch."

You couldn't lie; your heart was racing. All you could do was stare back into his eyes with a goofy smile painted on your face. San put his hand on your thigh, skinship being normal between you two, especially within these past months.

Your friendship remained just that, a friendship, for the next month. You were okay with this, though. At least you had a small sliver of hope now that he was single. That tiny bit of hope that he'd love you back was able to tide you over.

Until one night.

San had come over for your weekly movie nights, an event you had been doing since high school but stopped doing because his ex got jealous easily. You tried calming your nerves as you sat next to each other, his arm wrapped around you.

You were so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating. Maybe it was the fact that he was newly single now, filling up your thoughts even more recently, but his entire presence was overwhelming tonight.

“You alright, beautiful?” Since San was single now, his usual playful flirty side was coming out again. Just like everything else about him, you had a love-hate relationship with it. It doesn't mean anything. You had to remind yourself. He talked like this with everyone, especially when he wanted to get a rise out of his bandmates.

You gulped when you looked up at him. How could a man have this effect on you? You would think that after years of unrequited love, you'd be able to at least contain yourself. “Yeah.”

San gave you a dimpled smile, shifting his gaze to a piece of your hair, moving it behind your ear. Your mouth parts, probably to say something but you can't be too sure right now. If someone walked in, they would think you guys are about to kiss. Maybe you are... you want to kiss him.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you slowly lean forward, keeping your eyes on his lips. They look too good not to look at but you're also scared of seeing the look in his eyes, the potential disgust that might be taking over at the thought of your lips touching his.

Everything is moving in slow motion. From your hand caressing his cheek to the moment your lips make contact. He's stiff against you and you can only imagine that it's because he's uncomfortable. You start to pull away, dreading the awkward conversation you're about to have but San is quick. His hand grips your thigh and he's kissing you back with fervor.

Your head is spinning, Is this really happening? These sparks you're feeling all over your body, does he feel the same way? You push away any thoughts you're having, trying to focus on keeping up with San. You needed to enjoy this moment. Without realizing it, you swing your leg and straddle San's lap. He groans underneath you but before you can question it, he's giving you a reassuring squeeze on your waist.

You don't want to take the initiative of going further, but man, your hands are burning to touch his bare skin. Your hands, instead, rest on his shoulders, gripping and releasing every few seconds. As if he was reading your mind, San's hands move to the hem of your shirt and for the first time, you break the kiss.

The second your shirt passes your head, San's moving to kiss your neck, occasionally sucking to leave hickies that are sure to last a whole week. You're breathless, taking this as a sign to take off San's shirt. Your hands are all over each other, San's going from your cheek to unbuttoning your jeans, your fingers feeling his abs contract under your touch.

It feels like a flash. San suddenly laying you down on your bed, both of your clothes littered behind you on the floor, his lips still on your neck. It's only when he's about to insert himself does he stop and look at you with dark eyes. He doesn't give you enough time to question it, pushing himself inside you. You both gasp at the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so tight!" He grips your hip with one hand, the other holding the headboard like his life depends on it. He feels like he'll burst any second.

You're right there with him though, the mere feelings of this moment making you sensitive. "You're just big. Holy shit!"

It takes him a second, taking a moment to give both of you a moment to adjust before he moves inside you. You can't contain the sounds coming out of you as he hits all the right spots with ease. You couldn't have pegged San to have this big of a dick, yet here he was.

Before you can realize it, your hands are finding purchase on his back and your nails are sinking into his skin. He hisses above you but his thrusts get harsher and the moaning in your ear doesn't get any quieter.

"You feel so good... so warm and tight for me." He's practically whimpering into your neck. You try to keep your cool, trying not to cum so fast but he's hitting that spot inside you with ease.

Your nails dig into him deeper, "S-san," You stutter out. "Close... so close."

"I know... but you gotta wait for me. Can you do that?" His thrusts get faster and deeper, you don't even comprehend his words properly.

"Can you do that for me, pretty girl? Be a good girl for me?" He's using both hands to clench onto the headboard now, the force making it harder to not cum. You just nod and wrap your legs around his waist. San is drilling into you with so much force and he's hoping that the bed isn't going to break. After a few more thrusts, he starts to get sloppy, and your vision's crossing.

"Alright, beautiful. Cum for me." He grunts out, trying not to cum at the feeling of you clenching around him. You finally let the waves of pleasure course through you, seeing stars. If you were lucid, you most definitely would have been embarrassed by the noises coming out of your mouth and your pussy.

With a loud sigh, San pulls out of you and releases onto your stomach. Almost immediately, he’s up and cleaning you, you’re body’s too tired to do anything but lay there. You’re surprised, because instead of leaving, San lays next to you, even going as far as pulling you close to him.

You have so much on your mind but you're too tired now.

____

This goes on for weeks. Sometimes you would hang out. Sometimes do other things. Everything happened so fast. The friendship that you held so dear had become a muddled mess of lust and confusion. You obviously still had feelings for San but you had no idea where he stood.

You'd never even talked about the first time you guys had sex. When you woke up he was gone and when you saw each other again, he acted like nothing had happened. You didn't want to be that clingy girl who expected a relationship so you never brought it up. Now you're in this endless cycle of sleeping with each other and never addressing the elephant in the room.

What didn't help was how San was acting differently. He was much more touchy with you, always having to touch you in some way whenever you were together. His hand on your thigh, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, he did it all. Before the incident, you would have considered him touchy but that's nothing compared to him now.

Your hangouts started to become more elaborate as well. You guys were actually going out to movies instead of watching Netflix at your house. Small coffee shop hangouts started becoming intimate dinners. It was like you guys were dating. These dates gave you hope that he would eventually open up and ask you out properly but you didn't want to force it out of him. So, you just decided to go with whatever he wanted.

"Let's go ice-skating." The handsome man suggested his left-hand steering and his right hand on your thigh.

"You know I can't ice-skate." You deadpan, getting distracted by your fingers playing with his.

He glances at you with a honey-sweet smile before bringing his eyes back to the road. "I can teach you, ya know."

"Please, you just want to see me fall so you can laugh at me."

"That too."

San taught you how to ice-skate for maybe ten minutes. After that, he decided that it would be best to let you learn through trial and error.

"San, I'm literally gonna fall on my face!" You cried, your legs shaking as you attempted to walk on the ice.

"You're doing great. Just try skating to me." He held out his hand for you. Every time you got even remotely close to him, however, he would slowly start backing up. You were struggling around the rink but he made sure to sprinkle in encouragements so you wouldn't be too mad at him.

Just when you thought you were doing good, you got too cocky and propelled yourself towards San, wanting so desperately to close that gap. Your feet weren't pointed straight enough causing your left skate to hit your right, tripping you onto the ice.

"Holy shit, y/n! Are you alright?" San appears in front of you with seconds. Helping you up with ease. Your knees ache and you could feel the bruise forming on your hip.

“Did you not see me eat shit?” You bark out, now gripping his arm for dead life.

“I did but it’s always polite to ask.” You slap his arm playfully as he guides you off the ice and onto the benches. “Are you actually okay?”

You shook your head and pouted like a child. San chuckled to himself, seeing right through you. Instead of saying anything, he pecked your lips innocently and took a seat next to you. It was the first time he’s kissed you in public which only confused you further. Is he doing this on purpose? You really had to ask him.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to see San staring at you. It’s not until he’s moving a piece of hair out of your face that you’re snapped out of your thoughts. You jolt slightly and hum at him in response. He just shakes his head and returns his gaze to the people skating.

It was your turn to stare at him, to memorize his features for the nth time. He’s just as beautiful as he was two seconds ago and the butterflies are still strong. You open your mouth to question him about your relationship, finally building up the courage just when…—

“San? Is that you?” You freeze. Her, you think. That manipulative bitch.

“Areum?” San stands as if he’s been caught doing something bad like a child. She offers him a warm smile, completely disregarding you as always. You feel like you did during the concert. His eyes are no longer on you… but trained on her. You feel that distance he created on the ice growing bigger and bigger.

“What’re you doing here?” The man asks, still shocked to see her.

“Ah, I was just walking around.” The nerve of this girl to act like she didn’t do anything wrong. “What’re you doing here?” Her eyes land on you but she quickly looks back at him.

You stand this time. “We’re…” Don’t say it. Don’t be petty. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “On a date.” You entwine your arm with San’s.

Areum’s lip twitches in annoyance. “Oh?” She quirks a brow and glances at San. “Is this true?”

San freaks out without thinking and shakes his arm from yours. “No!— I mean like a friendly date, sure. We’re just hanging out like old times.”

There’s your answer.

His ex smiles with victory at your defeated state. “Well, we should catch up, San. I know we ended things on a bad note but I think we should talk.”

The car ride home was awfully silent. Usually, they were filled with laughter and off-key singing but tonight, you gave San short answers in his poor attempt to talk. When you entered your apartment, you told him you were going to bed early and that he should lock up when he leaves.

Instead, you feel his warm body climb into your bed and hold you at 12 am. As always, you didn’t tell him to leave. Because, as always, you couldn’t say no to Choi San.

____

You wake up and San's not next to you but there is a text.

San : Sorry I didn't want to wake you but I left to go to practice. It'll probably end late today so if you feel up to it, come hang out. :)

Should you? Maybe it's just better if you pretend like nothing happened. Obviously, that's what he's doing. Besides, it’s not like his bandmates gave you false hope just to reject you in front of their ex. You end up going to the practice, a huge lump in your throat. If you brought up the situation, you're sure that whatever you guys had would be over the second you said anything.

Jongho, the lead singer, greets you with a smile and a nod in your direction as he warms up.

"y/n!" Wooyoung calls out, getting off of his drum stool and engulfing you in a hug.

You giggle on command, loving his enthusiasm. “Wooyoung, why do you always act like we haven’t seen each other for years!”

He smiles and whispers, “Don’t tell the guys I told you, but you’re like… our muse!”

You roll your eyes and pull away from his chest just to look at him, “I think you’re the only one crazy enough to even consider that.”

Wooyoung lets you go completely and returns to his drum set, you follow suit. “Maybe but you’ve been our number one supporter since day one! Plus you’re beautiful and beauty inspires art, does it not?”

Laughter erupts from you again at his cheesiness and your feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. You didn’t have to look to know who it was, the signature cologne giving him away.

“What’s so funny?” San’s smiling but you can tell there’s something different in his tone.

“Just exposing how important y/n is to the band.” Wooyoung sends you a playful wink, your cheeks burning slightly. San forces a laugh, something you don’t notice, before sitting you down on the couch.

After practice was over, you waited outside of the room for San so you could go back to your place. That wasn't the original plan but San insisted. The chilly air made you wrap your arms around yourself, internally scolding yourself over not bringing a jacket.

Wooyoung was the first to come out, fishing his lighter out of his pocket. He wasn't the only cigarette smoker in the group but he was definitely the one that smoked the most. He grinned at the sight of you, resting his hand in his pocket instead.

"Why're you waiting out here? It's cold as hell."

"Yeah... But I didn't want to get in your guys' way." You rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to create heat. Wooyoung took off his jacket and wrapped it around you without hesitation. "A true gentleman." You remarked.

He put his hand on his chest, his face contorting to look hurt. "I've always been a gentleman. Even when I'm freezing my ass off."

Your eyes widened, ready to give the jacket back. "Woah there, missy. I gave it to you for a reason. We don't want our muse to die of hypothermia." The joke makes you laugh lightly. "You waiting on San?"

You nod, staring at the ground and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “It’s been a lot of waiting recently.” You accidentally confess.

“Uh oh.” He leans against the wall. "I noticed something was different."

"What do you mean?" You hear your heartbeat through your ears and you find it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

"You guys are a lot closer... You guys are best friends, sure, but the air's been different between you two. He still doesn't notice how you look at him."

You scoff, "That obvious, huh?"

"To everyone but him, it seems. Can I be honest?" Wooyoung rolls to face you. You nod, now looking at him. "Unless you tell him how you feel, you'll be doing nothing but waiting on him."

"But our friendship-"

"If you're about to tell me that it's enough for you, so help me God, y/n, I will kick your ass." You laugh for the first time since the conversation started. You understand what you have to do. You guys have already crossed so many boundaries and clearly, he feels something for you, right?

The door to the practice room swings open and this time it's Yeosang and San. San's bright smile seems to falter as his eyes instantly land on the jacket that's wrapped around you. His eyes shift between you and the drummer then he strides to you, grabbing your wrist.

"Let's go?" You don't have time to answer. San's practically ripping the jacket off of you and throwing it at Wooyoung who barely catches it. This time, you don't miss the change in his tone. He replaces Wooyoung's jacket with his hoodie, not saying a word as he puts it on you.

Just like the night before, the tension in the car is thick but unlike last night, it's you who's trying to spark a conversation. San's knuckles are turning white as he drives and it's starting to worry you. You've never seen San this upset before and you're still trying to place the reasoning. Was it jealousy?

You pull up to the house, expecting him to follow you like he always does but he doesn't. Instead, he leaves the engine running and his eyes on the street. For some reason, this sets you off. This man had the audacity to pull away from you, act like you were just a friend in front of the ex that cheated on him, but gets jealous over you casually talking to another guy?

You scoff and unbuckle your seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut. San was feeling extra temperamental tonight. He couldn't understand why he felt like this either. Maybe he was looking for a fight. He turned off the engine and followed you inside. Before you could close and lock the door, he stepped into your house.

"What is your problem?" You asked venomously.

"What is your problem?"

"I didn't have any problem until you decided to get all confusing!" You dropped your tote bag on the floor, turning to face him fully.

"I'm confusing? Are kidding me?" He huffs out, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Actually, I'm not. You've been driving me nuts since we started hooking up. I'm over it!" His lip twitches into a sarcastic smile. "What the fuck was that with your ex? You completely pushed me aside. She treated you like shit, remember? She cheated, she lied, and she manipulated you. Do you want to get back to-"

"You're not my girlfriend, y/n!" He cut you off. "God, it's like you don't know your place." Tears pricked your eyes but you felt more angry than sad. Angry, you've never felt this way with San before. You're experiencing a lot of firsts tonight. San immediately realizes what he said, how hurt you were. He took a step closer to you but you put up your hands, putting up your boundaries for the first time.

"No, you're right. It's not like you hold my hand wherever we go or put your hands on my waist in public. You don't smile at me sweetly during dates. We're not completely vulnerable with each other, telling each other things we'd never breathe to others. It's not like we fuck almost every day! Do friends do what we do? Please, enlighten me. What's my place?"

"I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have-" You're full-on bawling now, sucking in breaths where you can.

"I can't believe I've loved you for so long. I've torn my heart out for you and you just... you just throw it back at me like it's nothing!" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, instead he wraps his arms around you. You react once you feel him, trying to fight him off but he's stronger, trying to calm you down by hugging you.

You're screaming, all the feelings you've held inside bursting out of you, "Why can't you let me in?" You start to pound on your chest even though you know you shouldn't. You don't even notice that he's crying too. "Why can't it be me for once? Let it be me!"

"I'm sorry," He coos. You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, your feelings making it hard to focus. San catches you though, guiding you to sit on the floor.

San does his best to understand what you're saying through your sobs. He wants to understand what he's feeling. He thought he was doing this to get over Areum but why was he doing all the other things? He could've just stuck to the bare minimum but he didn't. Better question, how had he not noticed your feelings?

San was so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed you had cried yourself to sleep. He was holding your head to his chest and he sighed, finally relaxing a bit. He couldn't really relax though, his mind still processing what you had said. He carried you bridal style to your room and thanking God that you had exhausted yourself.

San tucked you in and, after some hard debating, decided to lay in bed with you. He made sure that he wasn't touching you even though he knew he was going to leave before you woke up. He sighed to himself.

Even as you slept you were beautiful and he beat himself up for only now noticing how exhausted you looked. The man never understood why he was so willing and ready to sleep with you. He could acknowledge that there was steaming sexual tension but he never thought it would get this far. Nevertheless, you guys were in this situation; the very foggy area between friends and more.

Is this how you felt, absolutely terrified? You guys certainly couldn't go back to being friends after everything that's happened between you two. San's body started to shake as he silently cried. He couldn't even comprehend how much pain he's put you through these last few months.

____

You're not surprised to find your bed empty the next day; you wouldn't be surprised if San had sent you a message ending your friendship and promptly blocking you. You stare at your ceiling with tears already prickling your eyes. You weren't going to check your phone for texts. You just went to work.

The day went by fast, your boss giving you plenty of work to distract yourself. You were doing just fine until you pulled up to your apartment to find Wooyoung waiting to knock on your door.

"Wooyoung?" The man turned around, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Oh- Hey!" He quickly put his hands in his jean pockets. You walked to your door silently, unlocking the front door and inviting him in.

“What can I help you with?” You try to be casual even though all you’re thinking about is San and how you know Wooyoung’s here to soothe whatever problem you guys are having.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase. Talk to San. It’s only been a day of you two fighting and all of us are tired of him sulking.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“He came into practice looking all down and he didn’t talk to any of us. He just went through practice barely saying ten words throughout the whole thing.”

"How do you know this has something to do with me?"

“… Do I look blind to you? Everyone knows something’s going on between you two.” Wooyoung sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I don’t know what happened but I’m sure it was probably his fault. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away but just talk to him. Please?”

——

So now, here you are, outside his door. You took in a deep breath before knocking hard on his door. You couldn’t muster the courage to ask if he was home but there was no practice so you hoped for the best.

The door unlocked within a few minutes. “y/n?”

“H-Hi,” You stuttered out, feeling the weight on your shoulders get heavier. “Can I come in?”

San gestures you inside and you take a seat on his couch. There’s an awkward silence when he joins you and you can’t recall any other time it’s been like this. It was so easy to talk to San before but now you can’t even form a sentence.

“So—“

“What’d—“

You said at the same time.

“You first.” San breathed.

“I just figured we had a lot to talk about.”

"Right..." He brushed off his legs with a sigh.

"I like you, San- actually, I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for so long and we slept together and it got messy. We've never talked about what we were after that night. You just made me a rebound and I turned the other way..."

His eyes burnt into your face and you were too scared to meet them. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you in that kind of situation. I shouldn't have been so selfish. I didn't think about the way you were feeling."

San's warm hand grabs yours. "I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to see how you feel about me. I'm so sorry I said that you didn't know where your place was. Your place..." He takes a big deep breath, making you look at him, "Your place is right next to me. I lost you for one day and in that one day, I've realized what you really mean to me. I'm in love with you, y/n."

He places his hand on your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even notice. You're falling apart at his touch but you were so happy that he felt the same way and- Oh my god! Choi San was in love with you!

"You just said you were in love with me." You breathed, a smile breaking out on your lips.

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles, closing the distance between your faces. Your breath hitches. "Are you going to give me a chance to love you for real this time?"

Your heart is going to burst and you don't really give it much thought.

"Yes."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[with-paint]

Breaking the Glass

Part 2 of 2 of Whatever the Outcome Series

Rating: Teen and up

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,204

Summary: The hearing of Lip Gallagher and Professor Helene Runyon is today. You watch it all unfold, it seems, with your hands clasped tightly over your eyes.

Warnings: swearing everywhere, some violence, smoking and drinking of course, slut shaming

A/N: this is the best fucking thing I have ever written and I just want to say ahhhhh. I used the word “fuck” 64 times in this. Set in 6x06. Part 1

It was the day of the hearing and to say Lip was freaking out, was an understatement.

You watched in both horror and amazement as he tore open his third pack of cigarettes. It was a thing you noticed he did when he completely lost it. He chained smoked like a motherfucker. The ashtray you slid his way a couple hours ago was completely filled with stubs and you were pretty sure you could hold the thick smoke in your hands.

You hauled him into your dorm room after his classes were done, wanting him to have company that wasn’t destructive before the board meeting. He sat on your coffee table, and you on the edge of your bed. No one was talking. You let him wallow in his anger and his grief, and you offered him anything you thought could help him. A safe space to freak out and a friend that wouldn’t judge him as he spiraled. He didn’t have to pretend to be strong. Not to you.

You cleared your throat and ran a hand over your mouth as you stared at him. He hadn’t spoken in hours. Hadn’t done anything in hours. Just stared at the floor and smoked.

“Alright champ, I think that’s enough. No need to get lung cancer any faster.” You attempted to tease as you nudged his leg with your foot. You knew your voice gave away your panic, and you felt your face burn as you looked away from him. He leaned back on the table and puffed out more smoke. With a sigh, he threw the barley smoked cigarette onto the giant pile and looked out the window in your dorm room.

You’d always liked that your room faced the giant quad most people walked through. You liked that you could witness everyone just living their lives. It seemed that’s what you did best. Watch as people lived their lives. Make their mistakes. Get back up again.

You tugged a cigarette from one of the packs and lit it quickly. Taking a drag, you felt some of the nerves leave your body.

“We are so fucked.” He swore, staring out at the expanse of the campus. You glanced at him, wondering if he thought this was the last time he would see the campus as a student. You didn’t get along with a lot of people. You were one of a few that didn’t grow up with a silver spoon stuck in your mouth. Your bad temper and lack of manners didn’t help you much. Sure, you liked Joaquin fine, but he was always trying to get into your pants.

Lip was different. You two met a few weeks into Freshman year. You were taking a smoke break when he raged into the alleyway and beat the shit out of a dumpster. You’d been attached to the hip ever since.

You stayed with him over the summer and helped him deal with his little brother and his family anyway you could. Lip was like family to you now, and he might go away. You were terrified he would be expelled. You didn’t know what you would do if he walked out and went to his dorm to pack his bags. Just the thought alone made your blood freeze in your veins. “She’s never going to want to see me again.”

You blinked a few times.

Oh right.

Helene.

He wasn’t scared that he would leave the school. Leave all this hard work and the money he’d been given, especially by that man who paid for this all making Lip fucking owe that man to at least finish. Or his own room which he deserved after sharing a space with three other boys back at home, not that you’d think he minded at the time, but once you get a taste of freedom it’s so hard to go back. Or a place where he actually belonged, a place he could let his mind grow and you’ve seen him teaching, he had a gift, a talent, and he was going to waste it all.

You tried to rack your brain for more reasons, but the one true reason was screaming at you. He couldn’t leave. Leave, fuck, you couldn’t do this, leave you. Your chest heaved as you admitted that to yourself. You were afraid he was going to leave you. Fuck. You couldn’t do this right now. You stared at him and let out a bitter laugh.

No, he was worried that Professor Runyon would be fired because she was sleeping with a student when she knew damn well the risks of doing so. Worried that her fourty year old cougar ass wouldn’t want to see him anymore. That’s what he was so stressed about.

You pushed off your bed and crossed over to the window, taking another deep drag of your cigarette.

“Maybe. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” You said bitterly. Wanting to cause a sting in return for the way his comment hurt you. Lip turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

“Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, what first was Karen? I don’t even need to explain that one. Then Mandy. I actually really liked her. That one was your fault. Then Amanda, fucking bitch. And now Professor Runyon. Face it Lip, you have bad taste in women.” You took another drag. “And also a thing for blondes.”

Lip flicked his cigarette out as his jaw dropped. “I thought you were supposed to make me feel better.”

“Why the fuck should I have to?!” You snapped, all that anger finally bubbling over and exploding. You threw your cigarette onto the floor and stomped it out. “What ‘cause I’m the only one left? Only one you haven’t fucked so that means I haven’t gotten screwed over by the bullshit logic you use, all orchestrated by your dick?! Are you fucking kidding me Lip? Are you actually this dense? You think she would want to see you after all of this? You ruined her career her fucking livelihood. She has a family she wouldn’t choose you over them you fucking moron!” You laughed again and turned around. The sudden urge to slap him welled up inside you, but you choked it down. You were not going to be another jealous girl. Not you. Fucking no way.

Lip’s nostrils flared as he got progressively angrier at your words.

“You don’t know how she feels about me! She loves me, I-I love her!” He got in your face and you set your jaw as you stared at him.

You leaned into him and jabbed a finger into his chest. Your noses inches apart.

“Lip you love getting your dick wet. You don’t know shit about real feelings you fucking manwhore. All you’ve ever done is fuck girls over for your own agenda. And that’s all you’ll ever do. You’ll die alone because all you know is how to fuck people over and push the ones who care away.” You shoved him out of your face and stormed over to your door.

“Out.” Your voice was steady and calm, but the murderous look on your face betrayed you. Lip let out a sarcastic laugh and picked up his bag from your floor.

“Thank you for fucking nothing then!” He called as he walked out the door. You slammed it before he could start talking again. Grabbing the ashtray off your table, you opened your window, and threw it at the ground. The amber glass shattered as the cigarette stubs scattered along with it. You let out a shaky breath as you fell backwards onto your bed.

Taking a glance at the clock, you groaned. It was an hour until the hearing. You had an hour to decide what the fuck to do.

Alright fuck, let’s go over the facts. Lip is a fucking asshole who was in a relationship with a professor when both knew their relationship would end in either expulsion or loss of a job. Alright so maybe they both got off on the secrecy of it all. You ran a hand over your face and sighed. Who were you to limit who he was with? You were just a friend. And yeah you could have a say in the sense that you could pipe up at a party, make sure he doesn’t sleep with an STD riddled sorority girl. But to say he wasn’t allowed to be with the woman he was in love with? Nah. You couldn’t be the one getting in his way. You stared up at the ceiling and felt the stress physically taking a role on the space between your shoulder blades and at the bottom of your neck.

Okay so you couldn’t be mad at him for being with Professor Runyon.

You could be mad at another thing though. The most obvious things. You couldn’t be mad at him for who he loved. But you could, you could be mad at him for who he didn’t. You pressed the palms of your hands into your eyes and let out a pitiful laugh.

You could be mad that he wasn’t in love with you.

Fuck you were in love with Lip.

“What a fucking cliché.” You spat into the static air of your dorm room. The stupid girl being head over heels for the oblivious best friend. Your mouth raised in a sneer as you thought it over.

You were in love with Lip. Lip. Love. You love Lip. Your conscious was screaming these words. Over and over.

With a shake of your head as though to clear the thoughts you flung your arms out. Okay. You loved Lip, fine. But you didn’t love how he was acting.

You didn’t love this fuckboy persona he was constantly adopting. This “big dick” player Lip. The one Helene and even Amanda fell over. No, you loved the shit talking Lip, the one that takes the L train every weekend to see and help his family. The big protective Lip that holds his baby brother at three in the morning, Liam’s small body shaking from nightmares as Lip continues to annotate his paper for English. No, you were the only person who really loved Lip Gallagher, because you were the only one that really saw him. And he needed someone who truly sees him at this hearing.

You ran a hand over your face and glanced at the clock again. You still had time to make it to this fucking hearing.

In a haste you grabbed your bag, yanked on your lanyard, and booked it out the door, sprinting to the disciplinary sector of the school. You skidded to a stop as you saw Lip pacing in front of a door on the other end of the hall.

With a deep breath, you strode over to him. He looked up in surprise upon hearing you and stopped his frantic pacing. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey you made it. Didn’t think you’d come.” Lip admitted shoving his hands into his pockets. You still wanted to slap him, but you sighed and set your bag on the metal chair sitting across from the door.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Is Youens inside?” You asked, quietly, fiddling with the lanyard around your neck. Your school ID and keys jingled softly and Lip stared at you. His expression unreadable.

You weren’t one to be shy, weren’t one to show a nervous tick so blatantly. You broke Amanda’s nose without even blinking, yelled at him not even an hour ago, and now you were being shy. Lip blinked a few times trying in vain to understand what that meant for you, what that meant for him.

He cleared his throat and kicked the ground without any real heat behind it.

“Yeah. Just nervous s’all.”

You nodded and rolled your shoulders. Lip watched as you shed away your shyness and became the fearless, trash talking, scrappy girl he knew. Watched as you shed your emotions to be what he needed from you. His heart thudded and he didn’t fucking know why.

“Fuck that. It’ll be easy.” You stepped closer to him and smiled brightly. “It’ll be fine. Professor Youens will be there with you. Just tell them whatever they want to hear. Do not loose your fucking temper. Make sure to blame it on Amanda.” You rambled smoothing the soft blue of Lip’s collar. He let out a huff of a laugh and grabbed your hands that were fidgeting all over him.

“You goin to wait out here?” He mumbled rubbing at his forehead. You sucked your teeth at him and reached up to fix the hairs he tugged down.

“Of course. You’ll get through this. We can get shit faced after, maybe I can break Amanda’s legs. It’ll be a good rest of the day.” You were grasping at straws. All you wanted was to reassure him, calm him down. Every time you spoke it seemed like you were threatening or bad mouthing Amanda, and you saw the sadness in his eyes. He was secretly hurt that she would betray him like that.

Lip nodded and with one last look at you, he walked through the door to his doom. You bit your lip and slowly sunk down on the awful metal folding chair across the hall.

All you could do now was wait.

- - -

Your leg bounced as you took a deep drag of your cigarette. You knew there was no smoking indoors, but you’d be damned if someone tried to take this one comfort away from you. It was all you fucking had left. You let the smoke fill your lungs as you exhaled and blew the white vapor into the static air of the hallway.

The clicking of heels snapped you out of your numb staring and you looked up to see Professor Runyon making her way over to you. You regarded her as you took another drag. Her expression was blank, but you could see in the set of her jaw that she was stressed. You almost smiled as she looked down at you.

“Professor,” you nodded and rested your head on the wall behind you. “I hope it all ends well. Please talk to him if you can.”

She raised an eyebrow at you and looked around nervously.

“Take care of him.” She said quietly, and with that she pushed open the door and walked inside. You blinked up at the empty space she occupied. Well what else have you been doing for the past two years? You huffed out a sarcastic laugh and adjusted your shoulders. You were in deep now weren’t you?

It felt like maybe an hour passed before your thoughts were disturbed by the door opening.

You stood up, wanting to immediately grill Lip on how it went, when instead Professor Runyon briskly walked out. Still composed and professional, but clearly running. You opened your mouth to say something, but she breezed past you, pulling on a beige coat and a scarf.

You blinked a few times and slowly sunk back into the chair before the door banged open again and Lip and Professor Youens walked out. You shot up and looked at them with wide eyes, trying to determine the verdict in their faces. Youens gave you a slight smile, but Lip was hastily tugging on his own coat and looking down the hall at the retreating Professor.

“Helene! Wait!” Lip called jogging after her, completely ignoring you as they both quickly left the building. The big glass door they walked through shining as it slammed close. You blinked a few times and looked down at your bag.

No he fucking didn’t.

You raised your eyebrows and swore openly. Cussing out that fucking bastards name. How dare he. You were the only one who gave a shit about him beside Youens and he couldn’t even look to you.

You yanked your bag and made to storm out of the hall, before Professor Youens put a hand on your shoulder. You snapped your glare to him before dimming it. Your eyes wide, staring into his soft brown ones, you felt more grounded then you did all week. Already visibly calmer he gave you a little smile.

“That boy is probably the biggest idiot I know.” He said, his calming voice washing over you. You closed your eyes for a moment and let out a huff of air.

“I kno-” you began, your anger swelling back up again for that whore you apparently loved.

“But then again so are we.” And with that he turned and left, walking the opposite way and rounding a corner. You stared after him. We’re idiots? What? You blinked a few times, staring at the empty space he used to occupy, and sat back in your pathetic little folding chair.

Youens was a college professor, granted he was a drunk who made Lip do most of his work, but he was a professor and smarter than Lip gave him credit for. And you weren’t exactly a genius, but you worked your ass off and did well, you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t keep up. Neither of you were idiots. But if you’re going off academic genius, then neither was Lip. You scrunched your nose and glanced at the glass door.

Lip was an idiot because he fucking fucked everyone who looked at him and had no class, and was angry and naïve. Didn’t understand the working world and expected rewards for everything he did. Demanded credit and fell in love with the wrong people, cared too little about people’s feelings and instead what they could do for him.

And you and Youens?

You were idiots for loving him regardless.

You sucked your teeth and crossed your arms. Fuck Youens for making you feel bad, Lip was just a hurt kid in love and he really needed someone right now. You of all people could fucking relate. You let out a sigh and glanced at the glass door again.

Guess it’s time to get this asshole and lick his fucking wounds or something. You threw your bag onto your shoulder and made your way outside.

You spotted him quickly. His tan coat and blonde hair are a pretty big tell. But the biggest, was that he was the only person standing still. Just frozen in the middle of the quad, staring off into the middle distance. You sighed again and slowly made your way to him, making as much noise as possible to not scare him. You were practically stomping before you stopped right behind him.

“Lip?” You mumbled, slowly reaching out a hand. You placed it gently on his shoulder, but he started and spun around quickly, eyes wide.

He looked, uh, you cocked your head at him slightly. He looked like his heart was ripped out of his chest and his smile was thrown away and his happiness was blended up and discarded all right in front of him. He looked absolutely devastated. You pulled your hand off his shoulder and cleared your throat. Gripping and ungripping your bag’s strap, you sighed.

“C’mon. Today’s been rough. Let’s get fuckin wasted.” You said trying to conjure up a smile. It was like Lip was a vacuum and any sense of ease and lightness was destroyed in his presence. You dropped your smile and gripped your bag again. Lip looked only marginally less miserable at the suggestion of booze.

He nodded slightly and you felt yourself returning it. It was going to be fine. You and Lip again, just getting wasted in your dorm rooms like a couple of reckless kids.

As the two of you made the trip back to Lip’s dorm, his shell shocked expression loosened. He wasn’t sad anymore, but fucking angry.

“A year! I met her husband and kid, I was over there all the time. I went on trips with her and kept her drunk ass company! I took care of her! And the only time she looked me in the eye was to tell me to fuck off! She said she was terminating all contact to them! Can you believe this shit?!” He turned to you, hands palm up in front of him, eyes wide and mouth snarled. You could only shake your head as you pushed open the door to his dorm building. You didn’t trust yourself in the slightest to get onto the anti Professor Runyon train. Your dislike for her ran deeper than the offense to the man next to you. Better to keep your mouth shut and not give anything away.

Lip kept cussing and ranting as you climbed the stairs in the cold stairwell. You just kept shaking your head and occasionally mumbling out an, “I know” or “What a bitch”. You weren’t listening. How could you, you were hurt and mad and stressed, worried, and happy all at the same time. You just wanted to get to his dorm so you could drink so much that your brain deteriorated. That’s all you wanted.

You pushed open the doors to his floor and he followed you, still throwing an impressive tantrum. You shook your head for good measure as the door slammed shut behind you.

You blinked back into focus when Lip turned suddenly. You stared at him with wide eyes and he made a lunge to open the just closed door.

“Lip! What the fuck?!” You yelled grabbing him by his sleeves and hauling him back. It doesn’t matter that you could break his arm with ease, he was fueled by pure anger and heartbreak. You didn’t stand a chance. His back was to you, his hand splayed large over the door. It creaked open slowly.

“I need her to fucking understand!” He spat and you couldn’t help the eyeroll that escaped from you. You planted your feet and tugged him harder. He inched backwards and the door slammed shut again.

“She doesn’t want to fucking talk to you!” You spat. You huffed out a frustrated breath and moved your entire body so you were next to him. Still pulling on him you looked at him with a harsh glare. His blue eyes; bright and wild, met yours and you sighed again. With a glance upwards in a silent prayer to whatever god, real or not, that resided above, you punched him swiftly in the dick.

He crumpled to the floor in an instant. His groans of pain and the crash his limp body made, echoed in the small hallway and you fucking sighed again.

You stood over him and glared at him.

“Now you’re going to fucking listen to me!” You spat watching him with a slight snear and his eyes squeezed shut in misery. “Helene cannot talk to you or she will lose her fucking job. This isn’t about you. This is about her money, her passions, her life. You will stay the fuck away from her or you will get her into even more trouble. I know you loved her, but you can get the fuck over it because it’s over. It’s done. The end!”

You finished your rant with a wave of your hands.

You took a few seconds to feel sick satisfaction at watching him in pain. For all the emotional misery he put you through in the last couple hours, it felt nice to return it ten-fold. You cocked your head to the side and finally, kneeled down next to him. He moaned in pain and coughed out pitifully.

“Alright come on. There's ice in your freezer. Let’s go.” Lip only coughed in response. You took that as the gracious “thank you” that it was and helped him hobble to his dorm room. You fumbled with his pockets, trying to find the keys.

“Left one.” He coughed out and you nodded in thanks at him. Swinging the door open you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, opened the mini fridge, and threw a bag of ice next to him.

He sucked in a shaky breath and gingerly pressed the ice to himself. You smirked slightly and rooted around in his fridge for any alcohol you could find. You pulled out a bottle of vodka that was definitely stolen. You brought it to your mouth and bit the cap off. You spit it at him and he flipped you off in turn.

This was nice. This was normal. Just you and Lip, drinking and lounging around in your rooms. You could do this.

You pulled out another bottle and took that with you. Kicking the fridge closed, you handed him the second bottle.

He seemed to be doing better. His face no longer an alarming shade of red. His breathing evened out and he stared at the ceiling blankly. Better than in pure agony. You shrugged and leaned on his desk, staring at him.

“Are you going to tell me what the verdict was or do I have to punch you again?” You teased making him laugh.

“Yeah. Was uh, was that she terminate all contact. And I lose my job as a RA. Lose this room.” He shuffled back a little so he could prop himself up on his pillows and look at you. You nodded, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Well shit. I’ll drink to that.” You said and took a long, long drink. Lip followed you and you let the horrible taste wash over you.

You didn’t talk for a while after that. Just kept taking long swigs of your drinks and taking turns staring at the floor, or staring at the ceiling.

You let out a little laugh and Lip looked at you quickly. Looking almost scandalized that you would find this funny. You couldn’t help it, the fact that her nudes got leaked was funny as hell for some reason. You clutched your drink tightly and doubled over laughing. Lip stared at you for a few seconds before his own laugh of disbelief joined you. Your twin loud laughs was the only sound in the silent room as you felt tears gathering in your eyes. Lip wasn’t far behind as his face returned to that red color.

“Oh man that’s fucking delightful!” You spit out, still laughing in pure joy. Lip shook his head and let his head fall back in laughter.

“I’m fucked.” He said as he let his own laughter die down into giggles.

You nodded with a grin and you took another sip. Absolutely fucked. The silence settled over your two again. This time it was more awkward than comfortable. You cleared your throat and moved off his desk. Lip raised an eyebrow at you and you stuck your tongue out at him.

You sat on his bed as you took another swig of the cheap vodka. It tasted like rubbing alcohol and fire, but you sucked it down the same. Lip threw his own, now empty bottle at the cushions and it bounced slightly. You smiled slightly at it. Lost in your own thoughts of the events of today. You let out a sigh before you felt the hairs on your arm prick up and you turned to Lip.

He was already staring at you, blue eyes slightly bloodshot, but looking as beautiful as ever. You felt yourself smiling at him. In awe at how much of a beautiful mess he looked. The pair of your breathings was the only thing heard as slowly, so fucking slowly he leaned into you. You sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering close, as his lips covered yours.

You were kissing Lip. You were kissing Phillip fucking Gallagher. The guy you had been trailing over, loving for so fucking long. You moved your hand up to cradle his face. His slight stubble scratching your palm. You were kissing Lip Gallagher. You pressed more into him as your mind wondered like it always did.

You were kissing him immediately right after he got fucking dumped by the woman he loves.

Your mouth turned into a snarl and you jerked back. “I’m not a fucking rebound.” You hissed pushing him off you. You heart thudded in your chest and you prayed he couldn’t hear it.

“I know, I’m just really fucked up right now.” He confessed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. You narrowed your eyes, yeah fucked up emotionally you bastard. He moved his hands and let out a puff of air. You watched him as his eyes got watery and he quickly rubbed that away too.

God he was fucking wasted.

You blinked a few times as an idea came over you. Lip was fucking wasted.

Your head pounded and you stared at him. He was trashed beyond belief. His eyes closing every few seconds and the dopey smile on his face was all you needed. He was crying a second ago and now he looked like it was his birthday. This was it. Now or never. He would never remember this in the morning.

“I’ve been in love with you for years now.” You stuttered, heart thudding as you twisted the blanket through your hands nervously. Lip bobbed his head in a clumsy nod.

“I know.” He slurred. It felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, as well as an even bigger one clamped down on you and suffocated you. You sucked in a breath and fell back onto Lip’s bed. Fuck he knew. This entire time. And he had the audacity to treat you like this. Fuck him. Fuck this fucking asshole. You were bubbling up to boil over, before Lip’s arm buckled and he fell half on top of you. His mouth open and soft snores emitting. You blinked a few times up at his ceiling in shock. Body stiff as you just laid there with his unconscious body cuddling up to you.

This was the moment then. You could choose to walk out forever and no one could even blame you for doing it. Or you could stay. You could pick up the pieces and help him heal from afar. After all you’ve done that up until this point. What’s a few more years. Hell, what’s the rest of his miserable life. Your nose twitched as you traced the ceiling fan with your eyes.

You had always been the one staring out the window. Even with him. You watched him date these women and fall apart. In your own fucking life you just watched the events unfold. Never did you actually make a decision for you. You thought back to the breaking of Amanda’s nose and couldn’t help but smirk. Well every decision you did make was a violent one.

But.

Where was the getting what you wanted? Where was the heart pounding moments? Where was your own dates with the people you loved?

You made your decision.

You closed your eyes and slowly let yourself relax into the queen size bed. Whatever the outcome of this all, you were breaking the glass and stepping to the otherside. You were fucking staying. You were making your own decisions and finally living. You wanted this. So you were taking it.

[silent-mysteriousguy]

As was necessary for my brain: The octopath modern AU with no changes to the story, Olberic’s version cus i have been dying to do this (AKA Octopath traveler but it is just a wacky roadtrip through europe and everyone has some sort of criminal history)

- Olberic here is a bodyguard to the king of... lets just say England. With his bff Erhardt

-The two get along rather well, they have the same interests, same skills, and the same urge to  duel grandmas protect people’

-They dated for a lil bit

-Well, that was until the sudden day Erhardt decided to get the glock and just put a bullet through the king’s head while Olberic was getting a snack.

-It was sad

-It was also gay

-Mainly sad do

-The death of the king just wiped England of the entire world like any other sort of government doesn’t exist.

-Our man Olberic here decides that now is the perfect time (at the ripe old age of 27 mind you) TO NOT CALL THE COPS but to have a midlife crisis

-The crisis being 1. moving to some random town in scotland 2. deciding that Berg was a much better name than Olberic and 3. he was so going to unofficialy adopt that child even if it would kill him

-Well all that was quite fine, untill some hoe came along and messed with his unofficially adopted child

-Of course, our man Olberic got the glock because he was going to get that child back even if it would kill him AND NOT CALL THE COPS.

-Well, it almost killed him, but that shit didnt matter cus he had the child and figured out mister kidnapper had been using one very special glock

-Erhardt’s glock

-Cue some sad/sentimental music

-Cue also another midlife crisis

-Cus now we have a mission to go and kill that man

-and also he found some confused german history professor in that cave as if that day could not get weird enough

-The man was named Cyrus and there were two distinct traits about him 1. he was freaking cute 2. he was currently fleeing charges of pedophilia

-Which Cyrus, dumb as he is, told, just before telling all about a library book he had set out to find.

-(Luckily for him, false charges, Olberic had a glock in hand as soon as that fact came out)

-So, as Olberic now has to go to france to beat a few people up now, they decide to travel together.

-The boat was definetly almost set on fire, but they survived.

-On the way there they meet some Dutch girl with an emotional attachment to working at a supermarket, and some Belgian dude who likes free healthcare (and definetly does not have the papers to be a practising doctor).

-They are both adopted into this weird party because that is what happens

-Cue arriving in victors hollow

-Tournament takes place, something is set on fire again, and Olberic gets to meet our buddy Gustav

-Erhardt had apparently gone to spain to escape them charges of murder and several warcrimes.

-Welp, they went to Spain

-In the meantime they found yet another addition to the family, a woman and her snowleopard on the run from charges of assault on grandmas

-Problem: she only spoke French so everyone is kind of unsure if they are kidnapping her or that she is here voluntarily

-Well, everyone here already belonged in jail so what is another charge to the list?

-Cue Spanish things Idk

-They find Erhardt in some small village basically doing the same job Olberic had been doing for the past years.

- Olberic, being the impulsive idiot he is, goes to Erhardt and shoots him in the shoulder

-But alas, murdering your ex was apparently a bit too hard on the guy

-Especially if it was in front of your adopted children and the guy you are now crushing on.

-And a police officer

-And the corpse of some random animal you shot

-Cue that part of It’s quite uptown which goes forgiveness can you imagineeeee

-So, Erhardt spills the TRAGIC BACKSTORY TM 

-That is how mister Werner here got on the list of ‘People that need murdering’

-So, they head to Belgium with yet another adition to the list of people who should be in jail but are not, a dancer who is now escaping murder charges in Norway.

-How she got them do, nobody has any clue.

-But she and H’aanit get along quite nicely, due to the shared murder charges (and Linde not wanting to eat someone for one single moment)

-Cue Belgium

-Werner, now the illigitemate lord of some rando city, is just vibin

-Well, not for long

-After question for 5 minutes why no one has called the cops of this guy yet, it was murdering time

-Well, it was supposed to be, but H’aanit got upset that the man had a horse and if they killed him the horse would be sad.

-All said in the great language of French that no one understood

-So Olberic shot the guy anyway

-Cue victory music!

-...And subsequently getting arrested by the police

-What? You think you can just go run around killing people? Absurd

-Luckily, there was one man among them who had in fact a law degree which he just was too dumb to put to use on his own charges

-Cyrus motherfucking Albright

-...Which was a bit of a problem considering he definetly was not an attorney in Belgium

-Cue trying to find money for a fucking attorney

-They do, and Olberic gets of with a fine for property destruction

-(A fine they never payed)

-Cyrus and Olberic get together, Tressa gets 50 bucks from bets and everyone lives happily ever after evading the criminal justice system

So, is it 3am where I am at? Yes

Have I just eaten 4 rolls of smarties? Yes

Should I have reconsidered the idea of writing this? Yes

For everyone wondering, the idea was from a dream I had were Cyrus had a german accent anyways goodbye

[mudhorn-djarin19]

Camping Trip - Chp 3 (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x f!reader)

Summary: The boys take a couple retreat weekend and Frankie doesn’t want to be the only one going alone. So he invites you his best friend since high school to come along. Will the trip finally push you two who have had crushes on each other for years together? Warnings: mutual pining, language Rating: General. Will change in future chapters. AO3 Link Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Masterlist Join my taglist via here! ______________________________________________________________ You awake to find you are alone in the bed. You frown wondering where Frankie went cause you wanted to ask him about the interaction last night. You recall quickly though today was the day the boys were going off for most of the day to do some shooting. So they were up early to eat and get their gear together probably. You crawled out of bed, got changed and ready for the day before heading down to meet the rest of the gang. You were just in time for the boys were just about to head out. Frankie walked up to you suited up in his usual attire with an added on tactical vest, rifle slung across his back and two pistol strapped to his hips. You’ve seen him suited up like this before but you’ve always found it hot. “Hey, you sure you’re okay with me going along? I feel bad for bringing you here and ditching you.” He says. “Fish I’ll be fine. I get to spend time with the girls. I’ve gotten to know them fairly well so far and I really like them. We’ll have our own fun. Go. Have your fun.” You chuckle. “Okay okay. We’ll be back later this evening.” He says before giving your head a pat and heading out to meet the others in the van. You and the girls decide to have a relaxing day and head down to the lake. You all had packed some food and drinks to enjoy. You were excited to get to know them even more and have just some girl time. It’s been a while since you’ve done such a thing. You guys get your picnic table set up and have already started to sip on the alcohol packed by the time you finally make it into the water to swim around. You were all having some good hearted chats about life, sharing more about what you all do for a living, how met the guys and etc when Will’s girl finally nails you with a question. “So what’s up with you and Frankie?” She asks. You look up at her a bit wide eyed. “Huh? What do you mean?” “Girl, please. I see how you two look at each other.” She chuckles. “Mhm hm. And he was very clingy to you last night at the hot tub with his arms wrapped around you.” Santiago’s girl said. You sit unsure what to say, trying to think. “I… I mean we’re best friends. We’ve known each other for half of our lives. Since high school.” You chuckle. “We’re just very close friends.” Benny’s girl chuckles. “You sure there’s nothing more going on? I see the way you look at him and I’ve only known you for two days.” “I mean…” You sigh. They all eye you, egging you to continue. “There isn’t anything going on. Honestly but I do wish there was.” You say. “So why don’t you make a move? He’s single right?” Will’s girl says. “Yes. I just… I’ve never said anything in fear of ruining what we have. Plus I don’t even know if he feels the same way back. I mean if he did wouldn’t he have made a move years ago? Only move he made was last night.” “Last night?” The girls all question. You bite you lip and sigh. “Yea. Last night after we all went back to our rooms he was complimenting me and pulled me in close to him. I think he was about to kiss me until Pope knocked.” “Fucking Santi….I told him to leave it be.” Santiago’s girl groans. “Sorry.” You chuckle. “It’s okay. I-I wanted to question him this morning about the interaction but he was already up when I awoke and I didn’t want to question him in front of everyone. I doubt it was anything real or meaningful. He was drunk so…” You trail off. “Even so I think those feelings were real hun. You may not notice the way he looks at you but I do. He looks at you like you're an angel.” Benny’s girl chimes in and the others nod in agreement. “Flirt with him! It can be subtle but out yourself out there more.” Santiago’s girl says. “Yes definitely! Tonight would be a perfect night to be a bit flirty too. We were planning to go watch the stars and a meteor shower.” Will’s girl smiles. “A perfect romantic setting.” “Yes definitely!” Santiago’s girl replies. You sigh and nod. “O-okay. Yea that sounds like a good idea. I um… I’ll try. God I hope he feels the same back and I don’t ruin anything.” “Everything will be fine! I am sure of it.” Santiago’s girl smiles. You girls spent the rest of the day swimming and chatting. Them successfully convincing you to make a move on your crush with Frankie. Little did you know the guys were giving Frankie the same torture on their day out. “So when are you gonna finally ask out Y/N?” Santiago asked as he lined up his shot. “What?” Frankie whipped his head around to look at him. “Fish… We all know it. You’ve told us before and we can see it just through your actions and the way you look at her.” Santiago said, firing his shot. Benny fired a shot too. “Yup. You’re an open book man.” Frankie sighed and fired his shot next. “Look yes. I do like her. I have for years.” “So then why the hell haven’t you done anything about it man?” Will questioned. “I don’t want to ruin what we have. What if she doesn’t feel the same back?” Frankie replied. “For fucks sake Fish… She wouldn’t have come along on this trip with you, be sharing a bed with you and let you hang all over her like you did last night if she didn’t feel the same.” Santiago groaned, lining up his next shot. “I don’t know man. She’s used to all that shit. We’ve known each other for years so none of that is really out of the ordinary.” Frankie says. “Plus, I was drunk last night. So anything I did she probably just thinks was from that.“ “My point still stands.” Santiago said. “Give it a shot man. I don’t think you’ll scare her off. There’s far worse you’ve done and she’s put up with out of you over the years.” Benny says. Frankie groans and rubs a hand down his face.  He’s in his mid early forties, asked out plenty of women, and done so much too. Why is he so afraid to do anything with you. Benny’s right. You’ve put up with so much worse out of him that should have scared you off but it hasn’t. “So what the hell should I do?” Frankie groans. “It’s been fucking years since I asked anyone out.” “Just flirt with her more openly. Make some movies man. You’re fucking you man. You’re a slick motherfucker who knows how to pick up the ladies. I’ve seen it first hand. Just apply those moves but … maybe less of a cocky asshole since she’s a friend and not some chick at the bar. Maybe be just more your normal self.” Will chuckles. The other boys nod in agreement causing Frankie to sigh. “Fine. I’ll give it a shot. Don’t give me any shit though.” Frankie jokes, pointing a finger at them. “You got this man.” Santiago gives him a pat on the back. “Now let’s continue our day so we can get you back, he chuckles. You girls had returned to the cabin in the early evening having arrived back just a few minutes before the boys. All of you were starving from your adventurous day so once the boys got all their gear off and put away Benny worked on starting up the grill to cook some burgers for everyone. “So what did you girls do today?” Santiago asked. “We took a trip down to the lake. Had a nice relaxing day swimming and chatting.” His girl replies. “You guys have fun on your day out?” You asked. “Great. Good to be behind a gun again with my boys.” Will says, patting Frankie who passes by him on the back. “Right guys?” They all nod in agreement. Frankie plops down on the bench next to you. “Hey. Have fun today?” He asks. “Yes, we had a great day. I think I have some new friends.” You smile. “See I told you not to worry.” He smiles back and nods. Will calls that burgers are done and to come get them. You start to get up to go grab yours but Frankie protests against telling you to stay put he’ll grab yours. He returns with 2 burgers and chips for himself and a burger and chips for you as well. He sets the plate down for you and sits himself down next to you. “You remembered how I like my burgers.” You smiled. Happy that he recalled you like ketchup, mayo and pickles on yours. “Well of course.” He smiles back. “The girls said they heard about a meteor shower tonight. They were going to go watch it and the stars with the guys. I thought it sounded really cool. Want to go?” You asked him. Frankie finishes his one burger and looks at you nodding. “Yea! That sounds really cool. We can take the truck and make a cot in the back to watch it.” He smiles. “Oh that sounds fun!” You perk up. “Let’s do it!” He nods. “Alright. We definitely will. It’s a d- uh… it’s a plan.” He quickly corrects himself to not say date.

[swiftsaltsweet]

Why Ch 24 of New Moon is the best chapter in the series

I’m taking no criticism, this is the best chapter and I’mma tell you why. While skimming through the series for reasons and....I never thought I’d say it but, I legit have a favorite chapter out of the entire Twilight franchise, and it’s in New Moon of all places. And I don’t know, I just need to gush ok? There’s just something about this chapter that’s amazing, it’s like a fever comedy. Like the absolute, unadulterated, feral chaos that is this chapter. It caught me completely off guard, esp considering we spent this whole god damn novel with Bella so depressed, like “it hurt to read I felt so bad for her” kind of depressed, with the last half having very clear PTSD reactions on top of that, before leading into some very clear suicidal tendencies for about the last quarter on top of that. It’s a heavy ass book. 

But then fucking chapter 24 and all it’s glory come along. We just spent a good portion of the last chapter with Ed explaining himself and trying to convince Bella that she is loved and has always been loved and he won’t leave and that she’s not dreaming. And then Bella, still not completely convinced, decides she needs to get his family to vote on her humanity. 

And like there’s some mushy stuff being said in the beginning, but that’s just there to lull you into a sense of security. Cause on the way there Bella let’s slip about the voices she’s was hearing and Ed’s just like “👁️👄👁️” And I’m low key screaming cause she’s being a biiiit to open about that, and then she’s like “Oh, that must’ve been happening cause you love me!” and now I’m high key screaming cause baby girl noooo! AND THEN Ed just smiles and is like “yeah that’s ok, that’s normal, btw it sounded like you were handling this better than me at least” and now I’m crying and screaming and the neighbor’s are calling the cops cause they think I’m being murdered. And at this point I’m like “Carlisle, please get these two a therapist or I’m gonna be thera-pissed.” And that’s before the fucking vote.

So they get there, call the family, the meeting begins. Alice is grinning like the literal devil she is (and we love her for it). Ed’s face is suddenly fierce, probably cause he just now saw the memory of his girlfriend asking his sister to eat her-I mean change her on the way to Italy. But we don’t have time to unpack that, we need to put this stuff to a vote.

BUT NOT UNTIL EDWARD PULLS A BITCH MOVE and says his lovely piece. Boy is off his rocker, but he’s going off it with a plan. Dumbass motherfucker over here thinks that he can play the most fucked up version of hide and go seek with the vampire government. And I don’t know what’s worse, 1) the audacity he has thinking Bella will go along with this plan, 2) the audacity that he thinks Alice will want to spend her time watching Demetri for the rest of Bella’s life (esp when she’s about ready to change her herself or get someone else to do it, Alice has no time for your foolishness Eddie), 3) the fact he thinks this plan can work, 4) the fact Emmett and Jasper think the plan is just swell while Rosalie/Bella/Alice think they all are fucking morons (thus showing, if there is at least one braincell in this whole fucking family, Emmett, Jasper, and Edward are not the ones holding it)

And then we have the vote, despite Emmett and Jasper drinking dumb bitch juice for a second, they end up not voting in favor of Ed’s plan. Probably cause Jasper is whipped and his wife already voted yes, and cause Emmett flipped a coin on whether Rose would hate it more if he fought the Volturi or just said ok to Bella being a vamp (yes that blessed himbo was still thinking about fighting the Volturi as he voted). 

AND THEN Ed storms out of the room and starts wrecking shit like the beautiful unstable toddler that he is. BUT THEN, Bella turns to Alice, looks her dead in the eye and is like “Ok where you wanna do it.” and klfajlksdjdsafs Fucking Alice “I see everything” Cullen can only stand there in absolute literal terror. DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING DID YA PIXIE STICK? You seriously didn’t see, no couldn’t even conceive the level of Bella’s audacity and bullheadedness???? But then you remember, not like 5 chapters ago, like a day or two ago in real time, Bella practically jumped Alice on the damn plane to Italy practically screaming “Bite me now!” like did she forget???? Like, Bella was right Alice, y’all both co-owners of the idiot market. 

AND THEN Ed comes flying in fueled by pure rage, and starts asking Bella if she’s lost her gd mind. HER TALKING ABOUT VOICES IN HER HEAD?? NOPE A-OK! He hears them too except like, he’s supposed to cause he has that power, Bella doesn’t. But his own sister cucking him on transforming his gf? Oh no this is over the line! All sanity is lost! THE DISCONNECT FKDLASJKLSAJF And then Alice is over here experiencing for the first time of what is called “shitting yourself,” is like “there’s a few issues with your plan at the moment Bella, such as me not eating you.” And then Bella’s like “give it the old college try Alice!” And Ed is acting like he’s gonna rip Alice apart and Alice is like “👁️👄👁️ I’m gonna die” and like Jasper is???? Not even there anymore??? fkdlsfjlakjf Like he left, he’s gone! No more mention of him! Like Mr. “Someone breathes weirdly near Alice I’ll show them what their insides look like” isn’t, at this very moment, german suplexing Edward’s ass into the ground???? Is he, along with the rest of not Ed/Alice family just looking on in horror at the uninformed brazenness happening in front of them?? fklsdjafk Is everyone, sans Rose, thinking “Maybe we shouldn’t have voted yes????” 

AND THEN Bella is like “Fuck it, Carlisle?” And like, at this point Ed is clutching at Bella as if he’s gonna have to fight his whole family off of her, and Carlisle is like “Yeah.......let’s do it” and Ed’s just grasping at freaking, very understandable, straws and is like “CHARLIE WILL BRING THE POLICE FORCE DOWN ON US IF YOU DISAPPEAR AGAIN!” And Bella, beautiful Isabella “Fuck da police” Swan is like “You mean all three of them? :/” But they’re able to talk her down to waiting till things cool off and wait a bit.

BUT THEN Ed, after whisking Bella away from his family before this whole interaction could become even more of a shit storm than it already is, is now pacing in Bella’s room like a mad man, trying to think of a way to undo this disaster he didn’t see coming and then his little walnut brain is like “A-HA! You want to be a vampire? Then what if it twas I who changed you instead? YOu want that? Well then GIVE ME MARRAIGE!” And Bella is like “oh damn I actually do want that :/” BUT YOU’D THINK IT’D END HERE but no, Charlie comes in cause of the commotion, and he starts talking to Bella and the beautiful idiot let’s slip she went cliff diving to her father and he’s just like “👁️👄👁️” and while he’s trying to object to Edward, Bella’s like “I’ll move out buddy boi, it’s me and Ed, or no me at all. This crazy duo is a packaged deal buck-o! Now get along so I can shower!” and then yadda yadda some mushy stuff and end with these two love birds kissing. Like....STEPHENIE! You think you can just throw some mush in there, after I just witnessed an entire circus being set on FIRE???

[insomniamamma]

Prickle: Ezra x F! Reader

A/n: Okay, so don’t know what the hell this is. I was trying to go to sleep a few days ago and this just kind of popped in there, the idea of Ez giving the reader a weird nickname. I swear I have a more serious, put together fic in the works, but this demanded my attention first. I meant this to be short, but I suck at keeping things short.

warnings: language, angst, mild violence, lil bit of fluff, no beta

______________________________________________________________________

He calls you Artichoke. Since hiring you on, Ezra has thrown a string of nicknames at you, mostly botanical or avian, some referencing things you have never heard of, and this is the one that stuck. Cee is Little Bird most of the time, until she indulges in teen-age surliness and then she's Channel Rat. You are Artichoke. Which would be fine, except you don't have the foggiest idea of what an artichoke is. Nothing about the word triggers anything in your brain.

You are not so well-travelled as Ezra and Cee. You grew up on Falnost, a dusty little fly speck of a moon, only colonized because it orbits a gas giant with lush rings, perfect for ice-mining operations. Falnost has one port city that caters to people who come downworld on leave. The rest is cattle and corn. Nothing to do but pull rocks out of the ground, dig irrigation ditches and spread the sandy dirt with live bacteria concentrates in hopes of convincing the ground to grow something. Not a place for fancy words or much beyond a standard technical education. You scrimped and saved and bought your passage off-world as soon as you could, and you've been drifting ever since. Puggart Bench was the closest you've been to civilization, and even that seemed overwhelming and a bit weird. You suspect artichoke is something from the inner worlds, but you have no idea what it could be. What if it's something bad, or nasty like a channel rat? What if Ezra's been making fun of you, calling you this name?           It started two drops ago on Sammana. You were there to harvest lattice corals. Sammana once had a deep liquid ocean, but now all that was left were vast, glittering salt-flats. It was hot on Sammana. The air, while not toxic, stank like sun-dried shit. The corals themselves were fragile and you had to dig through the salt-pan with hand tools to get to them. By the end of the first day, your hands were raw and sobbing from a hundred salt-burnt cuts. You were hired on as muscle, but Ezra's been teaching you the trade as well. Many hands make light work, he said, and dimpled at his own joke, being down one hand himself.           The dig did not go well. The corals you were finding were few and of mediocre quality at best. Enough to keep you fueled and flying, but little else. There was less than a cycle before you had to catch the slingback and even Ezra's mood was dark.             "I'm callin it," he said, after a small and brittle coral crumbled in his hand. "We got enough to get us onto the next job. Fueled and flying, right?"             "Fueled and flying," you echoed back, grabbing the railgun and taking point. Camp was some ways and the sun overhead felt like a physical weight grinding down on you. The railgun was heavy, sweat ran into your eyes and pooled under your body armor. So much miserable effort for so little reward. Today's pull was a pittance, a little extra fuel, a little extra data bandwidth and that's all. You swiped the sweat from your eyes for the hundredth time today. You were over it. Camp resolved itself out of the heat-glitter rising up from the salt crusted ground, the drop pod sitting in a crater of shattered salt, the tent next to it, hooked up to the pod's RTG by a thick braided cable. The tent's flaps were open. Someone was moving inside.             "Oh, hell no!" You pelted towards camp, railgun raised, the figure paused, and then continued rifling through the tent. He had your trophy case at his feet, what little you've been able to collect over the last cycles and this bastard meant to take all of it.            "Hands in the air motherfucker!" The thief dropped his haul and raised his hands. "The fuck out of the tent, right fucking now!" You felt Ezra and Cee behind you, heard their hard breaths.            "I didn't mean nothin," he says, "I thought this camp was abandoned--" And something snapped in you. Never in your life had you been this angry.            "Bullshit you did! Abandoned with the pod still hot?" You primed the railgun, and aimed through the scope right between this dumbass's eyes, and then you felt Ezra's hand on your arm. He spoke low and close to your ear.            "Ease up on the rails, there, Artichoke, ain't no need for bloodshed yet." And for as angry as you were, you did as he asked, relaxed your stance some. Ezra walked toward the kid, no mercenary, this, just some dumb local.            "My friend here wants to shoot you," Ezra said, "And she is well within her rights to do so. We have toiled long to get what little we could out of this bitter ground."            "I'm sorry!" said the would-be thief, "I didn't mean nothin--"            "What you meant or didn't mean is not the issue here," said Ezra, "What you do next is going to determine whether you walk away or I tell my over-eager associate here to indulge her violent nature. Here's what is going to happen. My partner, Cee, knows every stitch of equipment we own. You  will dump your pack for her, turn out your pockets and give back everything that's ours. One aggressive move and Artichoke here will kill you. Rely on it. You do what I say and you get to walk away with your life. Clear?"           "Clear," he said. He dumped his pack as instructed and Cee picked through the contents, reclaiming several items.           "We're good,"said Cee, and gave the thief a shove, "Get out of here." He turned and started running, you fired a few shots that crackled into the salt-pan at his heels.           Later, as you broke camp, you and Ezra got into the first real argument you'd had. So far you've managed to keep things professional, but the anger was still there, hot and pulsing behind your eyes.           "You should have let me shoot him,"           "It doesn't always have to come down to shooting," said Ezra, "Things turned out right in the end. We kept our harvest and that foolish boy gets to keep on breathing."            "He was trying to steal our whole harvest," your voice rose, "Gods be damned, Ezra, you know what that means. You of all people--"            "He was a kid," Ezra's eyes were wide and dark, "Not much older than our Cee. Would you have that kind of blood on your hands?" There was no good answer. Ezra had all the words, you struggled with them. There was no way to speak back. Ezra sensed something shift in you, something in the slump of your shoulders. He laid his hand on your upper arm, gave a brief squeeze.           "It's alright, Artichoke, We're all safe. It's alright."

          Since that crazy day on Sammana, you've been Artichoke, and you don't know what to make of it. You can't ask Ezra directly. Ezra has ten different words for everything. You don't always understand him. You don't know if he's doing it on purpose, but sometimes he makes you feel stupid. You can imagine his self-satisfied smile as he explains the why of your nickname. You're not about to ask him. So you decide to ask Cee.           It's morning and you hand Cee a dented metal cup with fake coffee in it. Ezra shoots you a look and you shoot him one right back. You shouldn't give her coffee, he'd said, it'll stunt her growth, to which you'd said, Kevva's sakes, she was processing Jhata Balu at twelve. I think she can handle a cup of coffee. Ezra is a morning person, one of the things about him that infuriates you. You and Cee have barely joined the land of the living and he's up and about and doing maintenance on his suit. One handed, he struggles, but you've learned not to offer help. You did once and the look he gave you made you want to strap your body armor a little tighter. So you just tune out the string of muttered curses coming from the other end of the tent. You've learned to tell when Ezra is talking to himself.           "Hey, Cee?"           "Mmmh?"           "What's an artichoke?" You pitch your voice low, but there's heat prickling in your neck. Cee sips her coffee and smiles, a slow, one sided grin, like she's been expecting the question.            "It's a Terran plant," she says, and pulls her battered notebook and pen from under her pillow, furrows her brow as she sketches. She turns the notebook so you can see. "It looks kind of like this." And now you are even more confused, presenting with what looks like a scaly ball on a thick stem. What this has to do with you, you can't even guess.

          "Why does he call me that?" You ask, and Cee just stares over her coffee cup like she's staring into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Cee! Why does he call me that?" Cee smirks and jerks her head up. And the fact of the relative silence hits you, Ezra's muttered string of curses is done and you hear him chuckle close and behind. You bow your head, heat rushing to your face. 

          "If you wanted to know the reason for your moniker you could have just asked," says Ezra, you're not looking at him, but you can practically hear him smirk. He's gone and done it again, set a snare of words, and you've bumbled into it. You clench your hands and jaw and turn to face him, best to absorb whatever little humiliation he has planned for you so you can get back to your coffee.           "Fine," you say, and it comes out angrier than intended. It is too early in the morning for this. "Why do you call me Artichoke?" His brows furrow briefly and his smirk softens into a warmer smile, the kind that crinkles his eyes at the corners. He squeezes your upper arm, like on Sammana, but there's no body armor between you.           "I call you Artichoke because I believe that, like an artichoke, you conceal beneath your prickly exterior a tender, delectable heart." He drops you a wink and then jams his helmet on and out the tent flaps into the sticky heat of day.          "Good one, Ez," Cee calls to his retreating back and the purr of the zippers pulled back up, "Real subtle."           "What. The. Utter fuck?" You mutter into your cup of shit fake coffee. You shake your head. You and Cee suck down your coffee in silence for a beat.           "You know he likes you, right?" Says Cee.           "Well, I should hope so," you say, "We're crew." Cee is giving you a look of pity and condescention that somehow only teenagers can manage. Oh.           "Oh. Oh no! No no no no no!" The realization comes pouring out of you and Cee giggles. "Nope! Not in a million years! Hard no!" But part of you thinks this is wrong even as you say it. Part of you likes the idea of being Ezra's artichoke, his tough and prickly thing with soft insides. Part of you wonders what would happen if you let him in beneath your spiky outer layers, just a little.

[heli0s-writes]

Artichokes

Summary: A peek into the beginning of Bag of Tricks

Pairing: Chaotic Dumbass!Reader/ Exasperated! Bucky

A/N:  ~2k words. Written for @sunmoonandbucky​‘s challenge! So sorry it’s late! Congrats on your milestone, you deserve it and so much more! ✨ My prompt was “Even artichokes have hearts” 

Warnings: Canon-level violence, cursing. StupiT stuff.

“Hey.” It’s not a greeting.

The flight is still long, at least another two hours until the destination is reached. Behind his seat, you poke with your foot, other leg stretched over Natasha’s knee as she dozes off.

“What.” It’s not a question.

Fifteen minutes since the last time you opened your mouth and Bucky knew he wouldn’t make the half-hour mark; it was too good to be true.

“If you were an animal, what would you be?”

“Don’t like animals.”

A huff as you glare out the window and into the clouds, cross that he’s decided to be cross first.

“Okay. If you had a kid, boy or girl?”

“Don’t like kids.”

Natasha chuckles, eyes still closed, hand gently rubbing your knee in consolation because sometimes Bucky just gets this way, and he often gets this way in prolonged flights or car rides—when he’s showcasing his most winning personality trait: patience. Ha-ha.

And he gets this way, especially, with you. 

The new addition, after a disastrous mission where you almost blew everyone’s cover by getting into a near-scuffle at the bar. It’s not your fault you were dragged into that impending train-wreck on your day off—never even having met the Avengers to begin with, and then immediately being thrust into an asinine high-profile mission requiring you to wear an evening gown with heels.

And if the situation couldn’t get any worse, as you were stuffing yourself into spanx and tacking fake eyelashes to your lids, you were informed that you’d be Bucky Barnes’ date for the night. Discomfort in itchy and too-tight, clothing, a room full of strangers, remanded to being someone’s mute eye-candy. It was the perfect cocktail for fisticuffs with the very man assigned to be your date.

Moving on.

With a heavy roll of your eyes, you lean right, let your shoulder press up against Nat, trying to find a comfortable position. “It’s probably a good idea,” she soothes, cracking her neck a little and the light flickering through the window makes her wince before it’s cut off by her hand closing the shutter.

-

“Stop looking at the squirrel,” Bucky shoulders his rifle. You’re sprawled out on your stomach, eye pressed against the scope, as he clocked—looking at a squirrel. It’s just so damn cute, stuffing that acorn into its cheek where the nut joins about three more. Beady little eyes flit back and forth before it takes off and you retreat from the show, crawling back on your elbows and lifting yourself up.

“You scared it!”

“Shut up. Let’s go.”

Nat crackles in your ears, “Stop arguing.”

You do, because Bucky yanks you away by the back of your suit, and because you (kind of) listen to your superiors. Might as well, you’ve only been a part of the team only two months and Bucky’s been here since the goddamn Stone Age, it seems, with the way he struts around so fucking stoic and grim. Me Bucky Barnes. Me Crush Newbie Into Dust. Me Don’t Like Fun. More Hulk than Winter Soldier. You snort.

Even Natasha will spend a little bit of time with you, watch a movie or do something that doesn’t require staring into the eyes of the same people every. Single. Day. She’s glad to have another woman around, anyway. You’ve been told Wanda and Vision (a robot, or something) have taken a sabbatical from the life.

Steve will go on runs and let you tag along for the first twenty minutes. Tony will let you put on the booster boots and clap when you careen yourself into a table because it warms his little troll heart to see you nursing a welt on your eyebrow. Sam? Sam will tear it up at a club; he will dance on top of the goddamn bar. Sam Wilson is a riot and a half, but Bucky?

Nothing. Looks at you disparagingly from across conference room tables. Rolls his dead-eyes at every opportunity when you open your mouth. Granted, your mouth doesn’t have a lot of helpful information and most of it is a deflection from true answers because that’s your stupid coping mechanism for when people get too close—but everyone else laughs.

Bucky Barnes doesn’t laugh. Bucky Barnes doesn’t like jokes.

Doesn’t like animals. Doesn’t like kids. Doesn’t like fun. Doesn’t like you.

Doesn’t help that you tried to strangle him with an evening gown two months ago, but, pish-posh, past is in the past.

“What’s the timeline for when I can graduate from newbie-status?” You ask breezily, inflecting your tone just the right way so that he knows you’re not that invested in this conversation.

“Whenever you can run a solo.”

“I can.”

An exasperated huff as he sticks his arm out in front of your collar. You look at him in irritation, ready to swat it away until your feet trip over a loose root and Bucky catches you by the shoulder. 

“No,” he says calmly, setting you on your feet, “You can’t. You were on probation for a reason. Still on it, even if you moved jobs.”

Okay. So maybe calling it a “day off” was giving yourself too much credit. Fury was – haha—furious with you after The-Mission-That-Will-Not-Be-Named (lots of explosives, your boredom, paranoia, and inclination for entropy) and took you out of the field. Desk duty was the only apt punishment, until your immobility spiraled out of control and led you down the rabbit hole of hacking into your co-workers e-mails. He put you on probation after that. Took all your toys. No laptop. No badge. No gun.

Smartly, you shut up, letting Bucky walk ahead in case any more errant roots might make you eat your words again.

The path to the hideout is thick, full of stupid twigs and branches and you repeatedly brush spiderwebs from your face. Keeping close to Bucky, you let him shoulder most of the burden, only putting your hand up when a branch he snaps off with his hand flies too close to your eyes.

“IF—” You start loudly, and Bucky bristles at your volume, “If you had to go back into a burning building to sav--?”

“I wouldn’t.” He retorts, “And you’re being annoying.”

Three bullets whizz over Bucky’s head. He ducks immediately, snatching your arm and taking you down, too. If only this were one of those moments in the romantic comedies where he cages you in with his arms and you have a brief and blessed second of staring into his blue eyes where the world goes quiet and he realizes maybe you’re not that bad.

“ROLL--” He yells, instead, as he ducks behind a boulder. “--OUT OF THE GODDAMN WAY.”

Alas, not meant to be.

His gloved hand pushes into the air sideways, like he could push you, too, across the bed of fallen leaves and to safety. You’re quick enough to flip on your side, but not quicker than a third bullet and it streaks through the top of your forearm, carrying a fast stream of blood with it.

Your reach into the side holster on your thigh, pulling out your knife and launching it past the barrel squeezed between two trees. A clink as it misses and ricochets off the gun. Bucky does the same motion and it goes right into a shoulder with a firm squelch. He’s up on his feet, rushing across the leaves in a blur. Throwing the rifle down, you start sprinting right as an elbow jabs itself into Bucky’s chest and he stumbles. Then, a quick turn and you hurtle your weight across the air, spinning both feet into the man and landing on top of him. Bones crack beneath your weight.

There go the shoulders.

The agent gurgles again as you roll your sleeves up, ignoring the blood that splatters onto your knee.

Bucky steps back when you grab a fistful of dirt and throw it into his face, “Pocket sand, motherfucker.” Then, the butt of your handgun meets his temple with a loud pop. “Goodnight, ya dumb bitch.”

More rustling ushers in more lackeys and Bucky is dodging behind tree trunks, weaving knives and dodging bullet hailstorms. He warily looks around the bend of a tree, breathing through his mouth, assessing the situation. There are about four guys, armed to the teeth, well-trained as far as he can tell. Bucky should be able to take them out, and it would go easier with yo—Where the fuck are you?

Your shriek makes him flinch and he dashes across the way behind another trunk, heels digging into the dirt ready to charge. Guns are firing off, grunts and yells, and not even one second after Bucky comes out from behind the tree, he watches you punch a goddamn grenade into the thicket before shooting its previous owner in the neck.

The explosion rocks the ground slightly, but you’re unfazed, instead, focused intently on your hand. There is something wrong with your left arm. You hold it close to your side, fingers curled gingerly under your rib.

You look up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

Dread boils up from the pit of his belly. Bucky calls out to you, asking if you’re okay. You turn around and he hisses at the sight— shot through the bicep, cut over your cheek, but your gaze keeps falling downward.

Inside your cupped hands is a hedgehog, nose frantically twitching like a tiny rotten gumdrop. A sniffle as you slowly set the creature down, waiting for it to scurry away, but it never does.

Bucky groans. Shoulders his rifle with a disappointed sigh, exasperated that you tricked him into being concerned for your well-being, “Fucking-- you’ve got to be kidding. You got shot for that rodent?”

“He’s helpless! Look at him! Little baby! He could have a family! A hedgehog wife and hedgehog kids!” A wilted blubber, and good God, you’re completely serious about it, “Even artichokes have hearts, Barnes!”

“I’m about to artichoke you,” Bucky retorts, irritated, and the first comeback that pops into your head isn’t ideal for a family setting, but your mouth moves faster than your brain and there aren’t any kids around anyway.

“How’d you know that was my kink?” And then you brace yourself for the moment when Bucky Barnes annihilates your entire life, but there is only silence. Then, a snort. Then, finally, a series of low chuckles before he gasps, “Jesus Christ.”

You’re stunned into silence, and it’s a wonder, since he’s never known you to be silent for anything. Two months of no-filter commentary that makes him physically ill at times, and you’re shocked quiet.

“Holy shit,” you murmur, “You laughed. You don’t like anything. You don’t like kids. You don’t like animals… I don’t really know if you like to even laugh. God knows you don’t like me very much.”

“I like you just fine,” Bucky grins, and-- it’s a little blinding. His eyes shine brightly, midday sun in a mischievous blue sky, framed perfectly with those dark, long eyelashes. For a second you regret almost pummeling that nice-looking face in the first time you met it.

“You can’t keep that thing. I can see you.” Your hands freeze, one opening a pocket on your thigh, the other halfway sliding the creature in. Bucky glares when you continue, pretending he’s not there.  

“Barnes, I’ve decided,” you declare, hoping it would throw him off, “This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

A beat passes as he chews on his next response, deep in contemplation. Bucky’s not sure what being your friend would entail— his annoyance, at the very best. His literal death, at worst.

“Hm,” he grunts softly, edge of his voice giving way to amusement, unable to fully keep his stoic demeanor. One eyebrow raises your way, corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly when your forehead furrows in wait.

“What?” You ask.

“Don’t like friendship.”

Taking a note from your book, Bucky punches the back of your hand, launching the hedgehog into the thicket, cackling at your screech all the while.

-

tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave

[emletish-fish]

7. what is you favorite sentence/paragraph? read it to us! (asker can choose what fic) (x)

I chose three! One from each of my 'big fics'. No Zombies, Worst Prisoners and Good Boys under the cut:

NO ZOMBIES:

No Zombies was a delight to write. I had pretty much the whole idea from the get-go, (of a returned style AU with Hector coming to spend time with the family in the modern world). I finished it quick - and it's not too long (side-eyeing Good Boy and Worst Prisoner). It was the first fic where I felt like I really "stuck" the landing. I was quite flexible with my original outline, but I still knew where the journey ended. It ended exactly how I wanted it too - happily but with a bitter-sweet note.

The emotional core of this story is how Elena, family matriach, who is so gruff and no-nonsense, who despises Hector in the films, and who has such a warm heart under such a grumpy exterior would slowly soften and come to love Hector, (and how she grows as a person because of this and becomes more comfortable showing love/emotions to her family). It was like a platonic slow-burn as she learns to understand Hector better - which is why this bit is my favourite because it's where she starts to really feel fond of him for the first time:

“Well, I'm just glad I'm a better teacher for him than watching old Ernesto De La Cruz movies.” Héctor had replied with a wry smile. “It's probably because I'm so much more handsome than that butt-chinned, over-the-top ham.”

“Because you're a pointy-chinned, over-the-top ham?” Elena replied, feeling surprising witty. She never made teasing jokes like this normally, but it was so easy with Héctor.

He looked mock-offended. “I'll have you know, my chin is wonderful and I've given it to several of your grandchildren, so there.”

If Elena was a different person, she probably would have pulled Héctor into a warm, laughing hug then. She might have told him seriously that Miguel had always been difficult for her. He felt things so strongly and got so upset and emotional – she'd always struggled with how to help him, how to calm him. Miguel was so happy now. She knew that was because of Héctor.

She might have told Héctor that he was at least six thousand times the musician, eight thousand times the teacher, and ten thousand times the man that Ernesto De La Cruz was.

But Elena was who she was.

Instead she said “Idiot,” and ruffled his stupidly messy hair rather fondly.

She told herself she wasn't warming to the fool musician, but she knew it was a lie.

GOOD BOY:

My current work. It's another platonic slow-burn, but this time set in the Cobra Kai universe with son and father pair - Robby Keene and Johnny Lawrence. In the show, these two characters have such a dysfunctional relationship that is so full of miscommunications and missed chances, and they genuinely want a better relationship (and it would be so healing for both of them! Do not get me started!) I lean much more into the magical realism in this story, as I turned Robby into a dog (Animal transformation - PIXAR's Brave style), so that he could immediately get the cuddles and easy affection he so clearly needs.... because I have never seen a more touch/affection-starved character aside from Zuko in ATLA.

This also gave Robby a chance to really understand, not only his father, but the other people in his cicrcle. He discovered he had a support network. He got to know he was loved by many. he got to witness the actions people would take as they searched for human-him (not knowing that he'd been turned into a dog). And it gave Johnny a chance to learn how to take care of something, feel needed, and express his love for his son without the weight of their complicated history/his own trauma hanging over him. It was hard to pick a favourite, but I will say the Johnny-stream-of-conciousness chapters are definitely the easiest/most fun to write. One of my favourite bits is in the first one, The queen of ice-cream runaway when Johnny tells Robby about when Laura (his grandmother) found out Shannon was pregnant and she was going to be a grandmother.

It's the first inkling Robby gets that while his father wasn't there for him and he was neglected a lot, Johnny did his best to keep the bad shit from his own childhood away from Robby as his own way of showing care. It hints at the deep and damaging abuse Johnny endured. When he finally had a say with his own kid, he would have done anything to protect Robby from feeling the same. I'd say here is where Robby really begins to warm to his Dad;

Then I told her our chosen name and she said I was a dumbass and Swayze was a terrible middle name, and we had to change it to some shit like Alastair or something. She thought he should have a rich sounding middle name. And I say Mom, Alastair sounds like some lame-ass insurance broker who upskirts his secretary and then cries as he jerks off to the pictures, what else you got? She thought Sebastian, and that was worse! What a pussy name.  Sebastian is going to be sitting in the little french patisserie cafe drinking the tiny-ass coffee for dolls and eating the éclair with his prissy finger tips. I already want to kick Sebastian's ass. Who wouldn’t? I’m not going to give my kid a name that is going to get his ass kicked.

And she couldn't talk, cause she named me after Johnny Cash, just cause she liked his music. And she couldn't think of a middle name at the time, so I didn't get one. Thank goodness. I could have ended up Johnny Alastair and had to kick my own ass.

So Swayze stayed.

Then she mentions how she and Sid can help out, so I didn't need to do the two jobs, stupidly long hours thing. And we need the money. I know we need the money. But my whole body froze and I just went No. None of that for little Robby Swayze. ...

... She’s going on about spending Sid’s money on Robby and I just...I can’t. I can't allow it. Cause I knew how he would be, and the way he would treat that kid. So I tell her, no thank you. Not a fucking cent mom.  Sid’s not getting to feel like he owns a hair on Robby’s head. That motherfucker can go jump. You thought we needed Sid’s money when I was a kid. You decided it was better for me, and that was your choice. I did not get a vote in that. But this is my kid, and this time it is my call, and I am choosing no. I’m not going to have Sid make my kid feel like he has to apologise for existing every day. I'm not going to have Sid treat my kid the way he treated me. I will never need money that badly. I will never put my kid through that. I'll work myself to the bone doing 20 hour days before that. I'll work on the 40th floor without a harness before that.  I will sell my fucking organs before it comes to that. Not a cent mom.

WORST PRISONER:

My 'what if Zuko made friends with the Gaang early on?" AU that then turned into a three-book long saga (and I will return to it, Worst Prisoner readers - Thank you for you patience). It does have evenutal Zutara, but the focus is really on the Gaang + Zuko as a whole, and all the interpersonal relationships. I'd say there is more gen-shipping around Zuko as a central character, as Iroh & Zuko, and Sokka & Zuko are both given equal prominence. in fact, all the friendships and familial relationships were equally important to me. (the book 3 Zuko & Azula stuff is so interesting, but it is ...less funny I guess.)

This fic is such a joy to write, and I really try and balance the humour with the bittersweet/sad parts, and one of the main sources of humor was the Sokka-Aang-Zuko -Katara qudrangle of dumbassery. I love the four of them together in book 1, and so many of their interactions were a hoot to write. But if I'd have to pick a favourite moment, it would be the moment in the deserter chapter in book 1, where they all decide to 'officially' be friends:

“Well, you can figure that out and find someone while I'm up in the Northern Water Tribe. Then when we finish up there, we'll come find you,” Aang offered.

“Really?” Zuko’s eyes were shining optimistically. It was a strange expression for him. Aang was so used to seeing him with a grumpy face.

“Really, I promise,” Aang said, feeling so glad that he could help Zuko go home.

“Yeah, I second that. If this means we won’t have to put up with you chasing us, I am in!” Sokka said. “Sheesh, you could have just asked ages ago!”

“You know, this means I was right,” Aang started to say, feeling very vindicated. The others looked at him curiously. “If we had just talked about friendship in the forest, we could have sorted this out weeks ago!”

“Boo, forest friendship!” Sokka said.

“Don't boo him,” Katara admonished, elbowing her brother.

“I agree with Sokka. There's no way I would have appreciated that speech weeks ago, Aang,” Zuko said.

Sokka smiled at Zuko for saying he agreed with him. It actually wasn't that rare of an occurrence, but it still seemed to surprise Sokka every time.

“See, Aang, forest friendship is bullshit,” Sokka said.

“I didn't say that!” Zuko cut in. “I just meant, maybe … I had to be dragged all over the Earth Kingdom by you guys ... and shot ... and taken to nonsense fortune tellers ... and I had to be forced to eat Sokka's truly terrible and disgusting cooking—”

“Oi!”

“—and I had listen to Aang lecture me about friendship and vegetarianism in the forest just so I could come here.” He looked around at the deserters’ camp site. “I dunno, maybe it was meant to be this way.”

“What are you saying? You want to be forest friends with Aang now?” Sokka asked accusingly.

“I mean, sure. If Aang will have me, we can be friends,” Zuko said, and looked uncertain.

“Yay! I knew you'd want to be my friend,” Aang said, feeling delighted.

He was so happy he had a Fire Nation friend again. Kuzon had been an amazing friend, even though he'd gotten Aang into so many sticky situations. He had already thought Zuko was his friend, but it was nice to make it official. Aang always knew the Fire Nation had good people in it too, and now he had been proven right. He jumped up and gave Zuko a huge hug.