#was gonna draw dog park au but then he held her and like what would you do what would you do

[arcticwaters]

me: i don't wanna draw ashton again their hair annoys me ashton: -is protective of laudna- me: fuck

[magniloquent-raven]

that soulmate au where everything you draw on yourself shows up on your soulmate, right. saw a post asking "what if make-up counts" and.

steve always thought his soulmate was a girl.

because when he was nine his nails stained themselves a messy purple in the middle of breakfast. it was exciting, the first time something like this had happened to him. he dropped his spoon into his oatmeal and banged on the tabletop til his nanny agreed to call his mother.

his mother was distracted over the phone, but she sounded happy enough. he went to school with an ear-to-ear grin on his face, staring down at his nails the whole drive there.

by second period the nail polish was gone, but the bubbling feeling in his chest wasn't.

a few months later, late one saturday evening, steve was in tommy's room debating whether the mark they saw on carol's arm really was the dog tommy had drawn on himself in math class, when suddenly tommy stops, stares. and laughs.

and steve is confused until he glances around and catches sight of himself in a mirror. there's a pink smear across his mouth, glossy and shining when he moves his head, but clearly applied with a shaky hand.

steve shoves tommy off his chair, suddenly feeling defensive. it's not funny. make up takes practice. steve's sure he'd be bad at it if he tried.

but thankfully it doesn't stay long. an hour, at most.

it happens again the following saturday. and every saturday for five months. gold eyeshadow and shimmering powder on his cheeks, glittery lip glosses, bright colours all applied inexpertly, and never for more than an hour or two.

then. it stops. one saturday, nothing happens. he stays up all night, unable to stop flicking the lights back on to glance at himself in the mirror just in case, but every time the twisting feeling of disappointment is just worsened.

that morning, exhausted and upset, he grabs a marker, scribbling the first thing that comes to mind across his arm.

i bet you looked pretty

there's no response. he's not sure if this kind of thing is allowed. talking to your soulmate like that. or if it's, like. cheating the system or something. he gets nervous after a few hours. maybe it's the lack of sleep messing with his head, but he scrubs it off in a fit of panic around lunch time.

and years go by. when they're old enough for girls to start wearing makeup regularly he hopes, wonders, glances at himself in the mirror so much, but it's always just his unmarked face staring back at him.

his soulmate doesn't draw on herself. she doesn't wear make up anymore. not even nail polish. steve starts doodling on his hands just to stop feeling so bare. empty. but he also starts carrying a packet of wet wipes in his bag so he can clean them off

and then. he's nearly eighteen, on a date with nancy and her subtle purple eyeshadow. and he's trying not to look too sourly at tommy and carol across the diner, sucking face and smudging the matching hearts drawn on their cheekbones. carol thinks it's cute, when she does her makeup sometimes she'll add hearts or stars by tracing tommy's freckles.

steve resents it. deep down, he does, and always has. he should've just been happy for them, but he's just. lonely.

but nancy gets it, he thinks. she's never gotten marks, she's not even sure she has a soulmate. sometimes steve's not sure he has one anymore either.

except.

except nancy's looking at him funny, and he asks her what the problem is, and--

"are you wearing eyeliner?"

he runs to the bathroom. and. and yes he is. it's smudged, almost artfully messy instead of just clumsy like it used to be. he pokes at his eye, running a finger under his eyelashes, tracing the inky lines.

he's overwhelmed. relieved.

frustrated.

what kind of girl only wears make-up at night? and how the hell is he gonna find her if she doesn't wear it during the day like everyone else. when people can actually see it.

shit, maybe she lives in. like. australia or something. in a different time zone.

steve goes home that night with a whole whirlwind of distracting thoughts. mixed emotions. he tries to cling to the knowledge that at least she's still out there, somewhere, but he can't help but feel even lonelier imagining how much distance might be between them.

six months later billy hargrove blows into town, loud and attention-seeking and annoyingly gorgeous. steve doesn't know what to make of him. not at first.

doesn't know what to do with the way billy's eyes follow him everywhere he goes. or the press of billy's chest against his back during practice. or pretty boy like you. or sparks in his fingertips every time he thinks about the colour blue.

until math class gets extra boring and steve starts to doodle aimlessly, swirling patterns up his wrist and something like waves crashing in the palm of his hand.

the back of his neck starts to itch, like he's being watched, and he looks up, meeting billy's horrified stare from the other side of the room. his arm is held close to his chest like he's injured it, and for one confusing moment steve wonders how the hell billy broke his arm in math class, and why he isn't going to the nurse, but then--

then he sees the corner of a curling line, peeking out from hiding. blue ink staining tanned skin.

steve drops his pen. it clatters to the floor, drawing a couple glares in the silence.

before he can do more than blink and mouth wordlessly, billy bolts. he doesn't even take his text book with him, leaves his notes scattered across his desk. the classroom door slams shut behind him.

steve wants to follow him. wants it so badly he's shaking with it, need and desire and everything in him trying to get him up and moving. but he can't. he's not stupid. he knows how it'll look, and that's the last thing either of them need.

so he waits. waits fifteen agonizing, impossibly long minutes.

and he's out of his seat the second the bell rings, gathering up billy's things before he half-runs out of the room.

it's easier to find billy than he thought it would be. he's in the parking lot, leaning against his car with a cigarette between his lips, staring down at the lines on his arm.

his hand darts into his pocket when he spots steve, and he squints up at the sky with feigned nonchalance.

a smile tugs at steve's lips.

"i brought your stuff," he says softly, quietly, like he's afraid if he's too loud he'll spook billy and scare him off. and. maybe he is.

billy glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "...shouldn't have bothered." he kicks the ground.

steve lays the books on the camaro's hood and shuffles a little closer to billy. the look he gets is wary. a warning. they're still at school. there are people around. there's a million reasons why he shouldn't reach out right now and kiss billy like he's wanted to do since this stupid infuriating asshole rolled into town like he owned the place. so.

he doesn't.

he stands close enough that their shoulders touch, pointedly not looking at him, staring sightlessly out at the parking lot instead.

"i was right, you know."

"hm?"

"about you being pretty."

billy makes a strangled noise. "that...was a long time ago."

"yeah? and?"

"it. it was dumb kid shit. i wasn't. i didn't. i don't do that anymore."

"uhh, few months ago--"

"i made a mistake," billy snaps, shoulders tense, hunching and pulling away from steve's.

steve turns, then, looks at him. sees the fear glinting in his eyes. and it hurts. a visceral pain, right through him. "billy..." his hand twitches at his side and he resists the urge to touch him. "i won't...i won't tell anyone. if you want it to be a secret it will be. i promise, okay? promise." he pauses, with relief, watches billy relax a fraction. "can...can it be our secret though?"

billy raises his eyebrows. "what."

"i wanna see. if. if that's okay. i wanna see you."

for a second steve thinks billy might hit him. shove him away and run again. but the moment stretches on and a flush starts to creep across billy's cheeks. he shifts his weight around. "i...maybe."

it feels like a win. somewhere to start.

and he feels nine years old again, giddy, smiling like a loon, and hopeful for the future.

(edit: pt2 here)

[n0bamak1s]

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⚘ Karasuno Alumni (Daichi Sawamura)

Genre: Slice of Life, AU, Fluff, Friendship

Word Count: 3,132

Pairing: Reader x Daichi

World: Haikyuu

Prompt(s): A bought the last piece of [item] that B was about to get. / “I have nothing to lose.” / Tattoo Artist AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/19/20) over on @hqbookclub​ ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t It should be noted that I do not have tattoos and I know nothing about tattooing. I asked a couple different people and watched a couple videos, but it’s hard to understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself so I kinda just wrote what I imagine would take place and how it would feel. So yeah.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

You didn’t get cravings very often, but when you did, they drove you absolutely batty until you got the object that you suddenly desired so badly. This was especially annoying at midnight when all you wanted to do was sleep but your brain wouldn’t stop craving for some strawberry flake pocky which, not so conveniently, was sold only at the quick mart about twenty minutes away from your house.

With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes you could find quickly as you grumbled under your breath about how much you hated your brain and its ability to act like a damn toddler. And nearly thirty minutes later, you found yourself approaching the quick mart, still grumbling under your breath, though, at this point, it was more noises than words.

The glass doors slid open, a burst of cold air hitting the top of your head and causing a shiver to go down your spine. The cashier, a young girl that should probably be in bed and not working at one in the morning, smiled brightly upon your entrance.

“Welcome!”

You nodded at her before heading toward the back of the store where your precious pocky was located. The pocky was lined up at the end of the aisle, appearing in your line of sight as soon as you turned the corner, but the lack of flavors was startling. Normally, the shelf would be packed with the treats, but they had clearly become much more popular than normal. The shelves were nearly empty, offering only a few boxes in varying flavors. Your eyes scanned what was left, praying to whatever deity you could think of that they had the flavor you so desired.

Just as your eyes landed on the strawberry flake pocky, a large hand shot out, fingers curling around the very last box before pulling it from the shelf. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your eyes trained on the box like a hawk, watching as it was placed into the plastic basket being held by the perpetrator.

The man in question was pretty tall, standing probably around five-foot-nine, and his body was well defined with muscles. You could just barely make out the tattoo of a crow in mid-flight peeking out from the collar of his sweater. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was attractive with his messy raven hair and dark brown eyes, but the only thing you could focus on was the fact that he had just taken the last feckin’ box of strawberry flake pocky.

He finally noticed your intense stare, turning his dark eyes to meet yours. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching up.

You scowled at him. “It’s also not polite to steal someone’s pocky!”

His brow quirked at that, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I didn’t steal anything. It was on the shelf, free for anyone to take. Maybe you should have been faster.”

In your tired, annoyed state, you didn’t recognize the teasing tone he was using and took it as a challenge. When he tried to step past you, your hand shot up, palm flat against his chest to push him backward. You resolve faltered for just a moment when you felt his toned chest tensing beneath your hand, but you quickly shook the thoughts from your head. “Give me back my pocky, you jerk!”

His eyes darkened, smile turning to a scowl as he grabbed your wrist to remove your hand from his chest. You could feel how strong he was from the amount of restraint he was showing. If he wanted to, he could easily hurt you, but his grip was soft, just enough to hold you back. “Maybe if you asked nicely I would have considered it, but since you’re being so rude, I’m gonna say no. Have a good night.” He released his grip on your wrist and headed for the front of the store.

Your eyes widened a bit at his words and you realized that you were being a complete jerk. Sure, you could use the lack of sleep and your shitty day as an excuse, but it was just that – an excuse. Shaking your head, you bolted toward the front of the store, intent on apologizing to the man, but he was already gone. You could only stand there feeling like a shitty person for being so rude to a man you had never even met before.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

“Y/N!” Tsuko, your childhood best friend, burst into your dorm room without knocking and, since you were in the middle of erasing a failed equation, you ended up jumping and tearing the page.

You groaned, slamming your face onto the desk. Math was bad enough, but now you had to recopy everything because of the torn page and that did not sound like a good time for you. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock, woman?”

“Sorry~” She giggled, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I have the best news!”

You hummed as you tore the page from the notebook, beginning to re-copy the notes on a fresh, clean one. You were not really interested in whatever gossip she had to offer this time because this was a regular occurrence with her and it was mostly about other student’s relationships.

“Okay, so,” she plopped down on the side of your bed. “I met a guy in class today that knows Anne, you know, the exchange student from the states, who is good friends with Ako, that really cute football scholar in his third year, who heard from Carl, the half-Japanese kid that’s weirdly obsessed with tomatoes, who is best friends with Nia, that girl that was featured in Art Monthly in January, who happens to know -”

You slammed your head back on the desk, the notes completely forgotten as her word vomit swirled in your ears. First off, you didn’t know any of those people and you really didn’t care about them or what incredible thing they had passed along to a million different people. It was like one of those chain games you played as a kid – one person says something before passing it on to another and, by the time it got to the end of the line, it was something completely different from what it once was. “Tsuko, please spare me any further pain and just get to the point.”

She rolled her brown eyes, “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. Anywho, let’s get tattoos!”

“Heh?”

“Nia knows a guy that does tattoos at a discounted price for Karasuno alumni!” She clapped her hands excitedly. “I set us up with an appointment tomorrow afternoon!”

“You -” your eye twitched in annoyance as you looked at her, but your gaze softened when you saw how excited she was. She had always been super into tattoos and had dreamed of getting one since she was thirteen-years-old and her mom married a guy that was covered in them. You were happy she was finally getting one, but why did you have to get one, as well? Sure, you thought tattoos were absolutely gorgeous and you could definitely appreciate an attractive man with them, but you had never actually considered getting one yourself. “I don’t know… What would I even get? Aren’t tattoos supposed to have meaning behind them? It’s not really something you just decide on the fly, you know?”

“That’s true,” she agreed, tapping her chin. “But you really loved your time at Karasuno, right? You said it was the best time of your life! So why not commemorate that with a tattoo?”

You frowned. “Getting the name of a high school tattooed on my body sounds super tacky.”

“Not the name!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance before pulling out her phone. After a few taps, she stood up to thrust the device in your face, showing off various drawings and designs of crows. “You can get the school’s mascot – a crow!”

You hummed as you took her phone, scrolling through the various images she had found on google with a simple search. Some of them did look pretty cool and you had loved your time at Karasuno. Sometimes you even found yourself wishing that you were back in high school when things were so much simpler and easier. The more you thought about the idea, the more you liked it.

“So~, what do you say?” Tsuko clapped her hands together, giving you the best puppy dog eyes she could manage.

“Well,” you answered after a moment’s pause. “I guess I have nothing to lose. Sure, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” She threw her arms around your neck, squeezing you against her chest. “You’re the bestest friend in the world, Y/N!”

You slapped her arms frantically, “Then let me breathe!”

“Oh, oops.” With a giggle, she released you, allowing you to take in a large gulp of air.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

Tsuko parked the car in front of the small tattoo shop nestled between a used bookstore and a fast-food chicken place. This did little to boost your confidence and you grabbed her arm before she could leave the car.

“Are you sure this place is legit? Did you research it? Look up reviews? What’s the -”

“Y/N!” She rolled her eyes. “This place comes highly recommended. Don’t tell me you’re going to chicken out at the last moment.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for our appointment!”

With a sigh, you climbed out of her car and followed her to the door, glancing up at the bell above the door when it chimed loudly. On either side of the door were metal chairs lined against the class walls. Directly across from the door was an L-shaped desk with a computer on the right and various drawings scattered across its surface. A wall hid the tattooing area, offering a small opening on the left to pass through.

Tsuko stepped up to the counter while you hung back a bit, staying near the door. A moment passed before a tall man with a shaved head appeared in the doorway, covered in head to toe in various tattoo styles, piercings in both ears and on the left side of his bottom lip. He honestly looked terrifying.

His small eyes fell on Tsuko and his face brightened, a streak of red crawling across his face as he practically skipped over to the counter. “Hey, babe! You lookin’ to get a tattoo?”

“We are!” Tsuko chirped, clearly interested in this man even though she had only just met him. “We have an appointment, actually.”

“I gotchu,” he winked, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. “Ah, you two the Karasuno alumni?”

“Yep!”

“Perfect! Come on back and we’ll get to work!”

Tsuko didn’t hesitate to follow him and you sighed, trailing behind as you chewed on your bottom lip. Honestly, you were feeling kind of scared, but you didn’t want your best friend to think bad of you for chickening out, as she called it. How bad could it be, really? You weren’t afraid of needles and your pain tolerance was pretty high, so you were confident that you could make it through. Plus, you’d have a pretty bomb tattoo to show for it.

‘Hopefully,’ you thought as your eyes scanned the framed drawings lining the backroom. ‘These drawings look amazing, but there’s no way to prove that they did these.’

The man led the two of you to one of the plush chairs, motioning with his arms as his eyes stayed trained on your friend. “Have a seat, princess, and I’ll be right with you!”

She giggled in response, falling into the chair with a flushed face.

“As for you,” his eyes fell on you and you swallowed at how darker they got. “Follow me!”

You glanced at your friend, but her eyes were trained on the man’s back, offering you no support as you followed him a few chairs down on the opposite side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he grinned at you before turning toward the back of the room where a lone door sat, cupping his mouth. “Yo, Daichi! You got a customer!”

“Coming!”

You pulled out the folded piece of paper in your pocket that had several printed illustrations of crows in various poses. You had printed it out last night to try and help out the tattooer rather just saying, ‘I want a crow.’

“Hello, my name is Daichi and I’ll be -”

Your eyes met dark ones that widened in time with your own. Standing before you in a tight, black muscle shirt was the man that had taken your pocky the other night. Without any sleeves, you could see the dragon tattoo curling around his left arm, a light pink lotus flower clutched between its claws. On his right bicep was a crow sitting atop a volleyball and, of course, the crow in mid-flight could be seen more clearly on his neck.

Daichi cleared his throat, putting on an obviously forced smile. “I’ll be your tattooist today. What are you looking to get?”

“O-Oh, umm…” You handed him the paper with a shaking hand, unable to look him in the eye. Your face was burning with embarrassment and you were torn on whether or not you should mention what happened that night. You really wanted to apologize, but you weren’t entirely sure how, especially when one wrong word could land you in a world of hurt.

He took the paper, careful not to touch your hand with his as he glanced over the printed designs. “You want a crow?”

“Y-Yeah,” you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “I really enjoyed my time at Karasuno, so…”

He smiled down at the paper, settling himself on the rolling stool as he grabbed a sketchbook from beneath the counter. “Is there a specific design you want?”

“Not really. Umm… whatever you think would look nice.” You rubbed the back of your neck, glancing at your friend, but neither her nor the other man were paying either of you any mind.

“How about this?” He held up the sketchbook, showing off a small crow in mid-hop, its eyes trained on a butterfly flying above its head. Small feathers were spread out around it. It was such a simple design, but you fell in love the moment you saw it.

“Yes, that looks amazing!”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” He stood up, tearing the drawing from the book before returning to the room at the back. When he returned, he was carrying a thin piece of paper that he held gently between his fingers. “Where do you want to get it?”

You glanced at the paper, taking note of its small size. “My upper arm?” You lifted the sleeve of the t-shirt on your left arm, looking up at him for approval.

“Can you take your shirt off, please?”

“W-What?” Your cheeks burned at the sudden request.

“The sleeve might get in the way of the tattoo and ruin it. It’s better if it’s not in the way.” Daichi explained, setting the paper on the table beside the chair before setting up the tools.

Swallowing your nerves, you glanced at him before pulling the shirt over your head, holding it across your chest. He didn’t even spare you a glance as he rolled over to your side, slipping his hands into black gloves before cleaning the area where the tattoo would be placed. The stencil was cold as he carefully smoothed it out across your skin, pressing hard to ensure that the ink transferred. When he was satisfied, he slowly peeled it away, the ink stuck to your skin.

Daichi’s dark eyes met yours as he picked up the ink gun. “Are you ready?” You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Remember to breathe and try not to tense up, it’ll make it hurt worse. If it gets too much or you start to feel lightheaded, let me know and we’ll take a break. I’m going to start now.”

“Okay.” Your eyes followed his movements as he clicked on the gun, lowering the needle to your skin. You sucked in a breath at the strange stinging feeling upon your skin, as if you were getting a shot multiple times. You found yourself focusing on the pain and it was making you feel light-headed – you had to distract yourself. “Hey, I uhh… I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” He didn’t glance away from his work, carefully tracing the lines with the needle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… the other night in the quick mart…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you searched your brain for the proper words, meeting his dark eyes when he paused his ministrations to glance at you. “I want to apologize. I was such a jerk to you even though I didn’t know you and… I’m sorry.”

Daichi hummed, the corners of his lips twitching up as he returned to the tattoo, his tone teasing. “Are you just apologizing so I won’t mess up your tattoo?”

“What? N-No, that’s not -” You paused when he started laughing, bringing the gun away from your skin so he wouldn’t mess up the tattoo. “You’re teasing me.”

“Yup,” his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, I’m not so petty that I’d mark up someone’s skin over something like that. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it until I saw you.”

Seeing him so close to you made your heart pick up speed because he was a really gorgeous man and you adored his laugh. You wanted to get to know him more, so you threw caution to the wind, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I… make it up to you? Maybe I can buy you some lunch or something.”

“That sounds nice,” he smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up.

“Way to go, Daichi!” The other man waggled his eyebrows as he looked at the two of you, a smirk upon his lips. “And you always yell at me for trying to date the clients!”

Daichi scowled over his shoulder, a light shade of pink coming to his cheeks. “Shut it, Tanaka! Focus on your client.”

“Oh trust me, I am~” Tanaka wiggled his brows again, this time at Tsuko who giggled in response.

“We should go on a double date!” She suggested happily, to which Tanaka nodded enthusiastically.

Daichi sighed, giving you a sheepish look. “You up for a double date?”

You glanced at your best friend and her new love interest before giving him a smile. “Something tells me we don’t have a choice.”

“Definitely not,” he laughed.

━━━━━━༻⚘༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[alleiradayne]

Dead or Alive

Summary: Sam stops in at his favorite watering hole outside Reno. Square Filled: Biker AU Warnings/Tags: Fluff, flirting, mentions of sex Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 2,341 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019​​, this fills the square Biker AU. Thank you, as always, to @atc74​​ for beta’ing. And as an aside, this turned out to be one of my favorite one-shots for Fluff Bingo. Song: Wanted Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi

The roadhouse outside Reno wavered in the distant haze of desert heat as though a mirage, calling to him. But Sam knew that watering hole. That sanctuary, the only one for a hundred miles in any direction, welcomed the road weary and travelworn, real as the boots on his feet. 

A long morning had led to a scuffle in a motel. He’d lost track of Dean again, but he wasn’t much for longer rides any more. And Sam wasn’t about to give up the open road or his ride. Dean preferred his baby, the Impala. That was fine. Sam preferred his bike, its graveyard green mist paint on a field of black. 

As the roadhouse solidified in the distance, Sam torqued the throttle and shifted into low gear, a burst of speed hurtling him towards the bar. The roar of the exhaust drowned out any other sounds around him, and that was the way he preferred it. Just him and his horses, all one hundred sixty of them pumping out one hundred six foot-pounds of torque. 

The building raced up to meet him in a matter of seconds at that speed, and Sam pulled into the soft dirt lot. But just as he rounded the corner for the shady side of the lean-to, he pulled up short, narrowly missing a line of bikes all neatly packed in a line facing the bar. 

New blood in town. Great.

Finding the last space of good cement left at the end of the line, Sam parked his bike and killed the motor. One long leg swung over the seat, and he stretched his hands high over his head as he removed his helmet. Long hours on a motorcycle rode hard on his joints, but that was a small cost to pay for the freedom of the open road. The freedom to go wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. 

As Sam rounded to the front of the bar, he retied his bandana and fixed his hair in the mirror of a nearby bike. After taking a moment to admire the custom paint job—a demon barely dressed with black as night leathery wings, ample breasts, impossibly wide hips, and a come-hither gaze that rivaled most porn—Sam headed inside the bar. 

Not a soul paid him any kind as he pushed through the door, the bell overhead twinkling its bright chime. The bar itself had space for fifty men, but no one stood at the shiny aged oak. Not even the bartender. 

Everyone sat crowded around a table upon which sat a young woman in leather riding gear and denim, her bandana around her neck. Long black hair flowed in waves down her shoulders as she leaned back on her hands and her chin raised with laughter. That lilting song called to Sam as though she were a Siren and he a sailor out on the open ocean, her prey. Helplessly drawn to her voice, her presence, Sam drifted towards the table subconsciously, unaware of his moving feet. The men that sat around her appeared nothing short of her thrall, her dedicated pack. 

At the last second, Sam course corrected for the bar, but not before his gaze connected with the woman. Though she did her best to hide it, Sam knew without a doubt she had taken stock of him head to toe and had marked him. 

But for death or otherwise, Sam couldn't be sure. 

The bartender materialized from the back of the bar as Sam approached, a fresh case of Steveweisers in his hands. Haggard, he appeared old enough to be Sam's father, so many miles on his motor and too many left to go. He nodded in acknowledgment as he set the case near a short refrigerator on the back wall of the bar, then held up a hand, silently asking for a second’s respite. 

“Take your time, no rush,” Sam said as he sat on a stool. 

A subtle shift in the air beside him piqued his senses. Someone from the rowdy group approached him from behind, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled, standing on end. Every muscle tensed as he readied himself, steeled for the fight of a century, ten on one. A lone wolf against the pack. 

“Hey, Stranger.” 

If Sam had a say, she’d call him that the rest of their days, and he would die a happy man. Over his shoulder he found the petite woman standing behind him, a casual lean of her weight, spine straighter than an arrow, and chin held high. Sam nodded to her as he waved. “Afternoon, miss.” 

She pointed to an empty stool next to him. “Mind if I join you?” 

A polite biker. Few and far between, they were. “Not at all. What can I get you?” 

“Double of Walker Blue, if you’re buyin’,” she said with a wink. 

Sam winced as he dug his wallet out of his pocket. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna clean my pockets out on the first date?” 

Her laughter filled the bar once more as she threw back her head and clutched her stomach. “I was just pullin’ your—” 

“Two doubles of Walker Blue, Bobby,” Sam interjected, addressing the bartender. 

Bobby stood from his stocking and reached for a dark blue bottle on the highest shelf of the back wall. “Celebratin’?” 

Eyes like a hawk, the woman surveyed their interaction with great scrutiny. She followed his hand as Sam slipped a hundred-dollar bill across the bar, then flicked to Bobby where he poured out their generous drinks. When he slid the glass tumblers across the oak grain, Sam handed one to his drinking partner and toasted. 

“Yeah, we’re celebrating. New friends.” 

The woman grinned as she hefted her glass. “To new friends.” 

Smooth as butter, his whiskey melted in his throat, warming his entire body in a rush of consumption. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.” 

A long draw from her glass bobbed her throat, and Sam couldn’t help but stare. Long and sleek, the line of her jaw drew his eyes down, down, down as she drank until he stared at the plunging neckline of her vest displaying her cleavage. 

When she returned her glass to the bar, she held out her hand and said, “Natalie. Natalie Murphy. I run that pack o’ brigands back there.” 

Sam swallowed as he took her hand in his. “Sam Winchester. Loner.” 

A firm shake squeezed his hand as she beamed up at him. “Sam. What a pleasure.” 

He sipped from his drink. “I can assure you, Natalie, the pleasure is all mine,” he said. 

“A gentleman biker,” she mused. “What brings a wolf like yourself ‘round these parts? Not much besides Bobby here for a hundred miles.” 

“Hey—” 

“Love you, Bobby.” 

Bobby smiled from beneath the bar. “That’s my little girl.” 

It was Sam’s turn to side-eye, sensing more than a passing relationship between Natalie and Bobby. “Well, I’ve been stopping in here for years. Since I was a pup. Every couple weeks, my dad would bring us through here on the way to another town. When my dad died, my brother and I made it a point to keep visiting. Keep the geezer on his toes. Right, Bobby?” 

“That’s right, Sammy,” Bobby replied. 

“What about you?” Sam asked as he turned back to Natalie. “You look like you’ve been here a time or three hundred before.” 

Natalie laughed as she swallowed another draw of her drink. “I was practically raised in this damn bar. Can’t remember a time where I wasn’t here damn near every day. Parents died young, I fell in with a rough crowd. But you find family in the strangest places.” 

Bobby’s smiled matched Sam’s. “Ain’t that the truth.” 

Natalie nodded. “Garth and his boys found me hustlin’ one night about three towns over,” she continued. “I thought that was the end. I’d be their plaything for a few weeks, then I’d end up somewhere in the middle of the desert feeding the vultures.” 

A pregnant pause filled the space between them, compelling Sam to speak. “That’s… I’m so sorry you went through that.” 

“Nah,” Natalie said as she waved a dismissive hand. “They took care of me. Garth had been running the group for a while, when it was small. But he wanted me in because he thought I could take over. Grow the brand. And I did. Pack’s a hundred strong now.” 

Relieved, Sam breathed easier. “Glad to hear you found a good group.” 

Natalie leaned closer to him. “You could join us if you want. Wouldn’t need to ride solo ever again,” she paused as she licked her lips and eyed him head to toe and back. “I’d love to ride with you.” 

A twitch of want in his groin strained against his pants. “We talkin’ bikes or beds, honey?” 

Her glass pressed to her lips as she said, “Both.” 

Christ. All she had to do was look at him with those fierce blue eyes. Sam resisted the urge to pin her to the bar and fuck her until his balls ran dry. And if he had read her right, Natalie wouldn’t mind. In fact, she seemed like the kind of gal that would deeply enjoy everything he could give her. Sure, he was tender and kind and sweet. He loved that part about himself; so many people in the world lacked those qualities for one reason or another. But, there was something to be said about sharing a more primal, raw urge with another who reveled in that sort of experience. 

And by the glint in Natalie's eyes, Sam knew without a doubt that she would give him a run for his money. 

“Do you think we'll even make it out the door?” he asked. 

“What, you worried about them?” Natalie replied as she looked back at her table. The men cajoled with one another as they played cards and dice and swilled their beers. A warm smile spread across her lips as she looked upon them so lovingly. “They're a bunch of puppy dogs. Wouldn't harm a fly. 'Specially if I told them not to.” 

Sam drained his drink and shoved his glass across the bar. “Then let's hit the road.” 

Natalie finished her whiskey in one swallow and slipped from her stool. “Where to?” 

As Sam turned for the door, he looked north and pointed. “There’s a motel about an hour and a half away. Been there quite a few times.” 

When Natalie pulled the door aside, every sound in the bar stopped with a record- scratch of chairs on wood. Her pack stood all at once, ready to pounce at the sight of their queen shadowed by an outsider. 

“I'll be back tomorrow, guys,” she started. “Don't wait up.” 

“Have a good time, Murph!” Garth teased. 

“Go get some, baby girl!” Bobby shouted from the bar. 

“Yeah, yeah, shut your pieholes,” Natalie jeered. 

“You take good care of her, son, you hear me?!” Ash called.

“I'll do my best, sir,” Sam said as he followed Natalie into the blazing desert sunshine. 

“If she don’t come back in the morning walkin' funny, I’ll make sure you leave that way!” 

The click of the door shutting punctuated that last jest. “He shouldn’t make idle threats. I have half a mind to go back in there and invite him to join us,” Sam teased. 

Natalie rounded the side of the bar, her bright laughter echoing in the distance. “Careful, Sam. Gabby would take you up on that offer. And not because he's got the hots for me. I watched him eye you up and down the second you walked in the bar.” 

Sam laughed as he stopped beside his bike. “He’s quite the looker, too.” 

“He is. And while I’m not opposed to the idea of fucking a few people in the same  bed, I don’t take my pack mates. Favoritism and all that. Gets messy.” 

“But you want me to join your crew. What then? We don’t get to do this again?” Sam asked as he swung a leg over his bike. 

Natalie approached the motorcycle Sam had admired earlier. “I think I can make an exception for the likes of you.” 

“I'm flattered. And by the way,” he paused as he dropped his gaze between her thighs. “Nice bike.” 

Natalie flipped her head over and gathered her hair in her helmet. Clasped in place, she ensured it secure with a shake. “Thanks. Built her myself, paint and all.” 

“She's hot,” Sam added. 

“Ruby’s been good to me.” Again, she smiled fondly as a gloved hand smoothed the side of the tank. Then she grasped the handle bars and centered her balance. “Shall we?” 

Sam shifted his bike and snapped back his kickstand. A thunderous roar filled the empty desert as their motors ignited with life, hers a loud crackle, and his a deep rumble. With his helmet on and sunglasses in place, he turned to Natalie and found her face shrouded by shades and her bandana over her nose. She gave him a thumbs up, and Sam responded in kind. 

A clunk of gears put him in first, and he twisted into the throttle. Combustion propelled him towards the road, and Natalie followed, the bright whine of her motor hot on his heels. 

Together they drove into the sun as it set, two wandering souls, neither lost nor found, but always searching. And as Sam rode beside her, an easy feeling settled in his chest. He welcomed it, reveled in it without reservation, and as they sped into the great wide open, he thought he could get used to it. 

Maybe he didn't have to go it alone after all. Maybe, with Natalie by his side, leading the pack, he might enjoy the ride like he had never before. And if her lusty gaze had meant anything, he was headed for the ride of a lifetime. 

Bikes and beds, Sam Winchester couldn't wait to ride with Natalie forever. 

Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to reblog, too!

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), send me a DM or an ask!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74​​  @hannahindie​​ @bevans87​​  @meganwinchester1999​​  @plaided-ani-on-hiatus​​  @oneshoeshort​​ @jonogueira​​ @andkatiethings​​ @elfinmox​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @princessofthefandomrealm​  @just-another-busyfangirl​ @jmekitchens​ @81mysteriouslyme​​ @dolphincliffs​  @seenashwrite​  @canadianspnhunter​  @meowmeow-motherfucker​ @depressed-moose-78 @staycejo1​ @hobby27​  @pretty-fortune​ @mypopculturediva​ @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @sandlee44​ @4llmywr1tings​ @claitynroberts​ @maddiepants​ @scarletluvscas @donnaintx​​ @blackeyedangel9805​​ @rainflowermoon​​ @winchesterprincessbride​  @lazinessisalliknow​​ @the-is13​​ @waywardafgrandma​ @keymology​ @sister-winchesters99​ @amanda-teaches​

Sam’s Sasstresses (Jared):

@morganas-pendragons​ @karouwinchester

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 13 - i wish it could be christmas every day - wizzard

the magic of christmas time - royai advent calender

24 days - 24 oneshots | with angst, fluff, and everything in between | both canon and au

a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | chapter prompts based on my favourite christmas songs

read on ao3

when we're skating in the park

if the snow cloud makes it dark

then your rosy cheeks are gonna light my merry way

“There we go,” Riza smiled, slowly letting go of Roy’s hands as he continued to move towards her for a change, rather than falling on his ass. He hesitated, remaining perfectly still with his upper body tilted forward and his hands outstretched in front of him. He looked slightly terrified that he would fall over if he moved a muscle, but he was easily gliding around the ice. Riza never left his side and didn’t stray far. She remained in reaching distance in case she needed to steady him in the middle of the rink.

“I’m doing it,” he stated in wonder. His face broke out into a grin and he glanced up at Riza. He gained some confidence, because he managed to slowly straighten his spine and stand upright.

“Yay,” she cried happily with a laugh. Riza skated away with a burst of energy, spinning in place and skated backwards, so she was now facing her fiancé. She broke out into a grin. That felt good to say.

They’d been engaged three days, but it felt like her whole life. It felt the same way when they’d finally gotten together after a year of missed plans. Riza couldn’t believe they hadn’t done it sooner.

True to his word, Chris Mustang liked Riza. Her nerves had been uncontrollable on the day – she’d left the room to vomit five minutes before Roy’s mother arrived – but she’d gotten used to and found the woman’s humour extremely amusing. Like Roy said, Riza had nothing to worry about. They clicked, just like she had with her son.

So, to celebrate their engagement and the holiday period, they’d travelled into the city – two hours away – and had a wonderful day together.

After a rather expensive lunch – Roy’s treat, one where he wouldn’t let her see the bill, but Riza knew it was expensive because the prices weren’t even on the menu – they’d walked around the city park and found a Christmas market and an ice rink. Riza was driving them both home but Roy needed a glass of mulled cider before he could work up the courage to step onto the ice rink, as he’d never done skated before.

Now, he was skating. He’d fallen three times, but now he’d gotten the hang of it.

Roy wobbled and reached out to try and steady himself. Riza grabbed him quickly, and his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her in near. They almost toppled over, but Riza managed to steady them both. She laughed after the initial panic and lifted her arms to grip his torso through all his layers, keeping him against her.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” she grinned.

“I think I’ve had enough skating for one night. Or one lifetime.” The last comment was added as a mutter, but Riza still smiled, amused, when she caught it.

“Come on, then,” Riza smirked. “Let’s get off the ice.”

Riza escorted him off. He looked incredibly adorable with a grim look of concentration on his face as he gripped her hand like a vice. Roy only eased up when they were safely on solid ground. He promptly sat himself down, right outside the entrance to the rink, and removed his skates. His toes waggled inside the fluffy socks Riza had gotten him for Christmas – they had small dogs all over them – and he padded over to the seating area where Riza had elected to remove her ice skates.

“Thank you for that,” he stated, gripping her hand tightly and swinging it between them as they walked uphill from the ice rink in the park. Up the hill was the market, so they were heading back to have a peruse of the stalls and goods while also getting something to eat. Riza was desperate for some churros after her dinner, while Roy was particularly looking for some roasted chestnuts.

“It’s not a problem, you know that,” she smiled. Riza leaned over to press a kiss to him cheek. Roy removed his hand from hers and moved it to wrap around her back, drawing her even closer as they walked.

“I know, but I’ve never skated before and, to be perfectly honest, you’re probably the only person I’d trust to teach me.”

Riza was honoured, and her cheeks turned pink at the compliment. She beamed at him, returning his praise with a quick kiss of her own. “I’d never let you fall.”

“You did,” he quipped. “Three times,” he deadpanned.

“That was all you, and you know it,” she grinned.

Roy laughed and accepted his failures. “Okay,” he sighed dramatically. “I’ll let you off with that one.”

“I wasn’t even on the rink, so yes you will,” she laughed. She’d still been putting her skates on when her enthusiastic and eager fiancé took to the ice himself.

“I don’t think I’m very useful in the cold.”

“You’re perfect in the cold. If you weren’t, how would you have survived so long living where we do?”

“Sheer dumb luck?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say, but…” She giggled when he scowled at her. “No, you’re perfect in every weather. You’re my knight in shining armour.”

Roy stopped and tugged her backwards. Riza knew what was coming, and spun into his arms, bumping against his chest. He pressed his lips against hers hard and Riza smiled against him.

“I’m glad,” he smirked.

Dinner came in the form of a hotdog for Roy and a burger for Riza. They shared a portion of fries together, one side lathered in ketchup for Roy, the other with just a sprinkle of salt for Riza. He managed to snag a seat from a couple who were just leaving, so they were currently sitting on a bench and people watching as they ate their food, cackling away as they joked with one another. At one point, Roy had to spit out his hot dog otherwise he’d choke, much to the disgust of a stuck-up elderly woman next to them, but amusement of her husband. He offered them a goofy grin as they walked away, the man evening wishing them a merry Christmas, much to the wife’s chagrin.

“Oh, come on, Mary,” he exclaimed. “They’re young! They’re in love! Let them have their fun,” he scolded. Riza and Roy just grinned at each other, going back to fighting over the last fry in the cardboard food box.

“Shall we start heading back?” Roy asked. “I don’t want you driving back too late.” He glanced up and Riza did the same, noticing the snow beginning to fall lightly. Following the path of one flake, he watched as it landed on the tip of Riza’s nose. She flinched as others hit her skin at the same time, and Roy smiled just from watching her. She was so beautiful and completely adorable looking up at the falling flakes, her face a picture of wonder. He swiped at the flake on her nose, then on her cheek, causing her to turn to look at him. Tilting his head, Roy closed the distance and kissed her. He couldn’t believe how truly lucky he was to have met her… and then eventually got together with her.

That whole year he’d tried, but obviously it wasn’t meant to be, so he’d given up on the hope, but opted just to try and maintain a friendship with Riza at least. That Christmas meeting last year was by complete chance, and Roy decided he was going to take a chance and not let chance or coincidence get in the way of them. If she said no, then that was it, but he couldn’t not try that time. One last chance effort.

It just so happened it paid off wonderfully.

“We can, if you want?” Riza replied.

Roy nodded. “Then we can snuggle under some blankets next to the fire and watch some trashy leftover hallmark films?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The two-hour drive home was quick work as they sang along very loudly to the songs on the radio. The roads were dark, and it became more difficult to see as they got closer to home. The snow was falling thick and fast, so the singing died down for the moment as Riza navigated her pick up truck up the mountain.

They made it home, safe and sound.

True to his suggestion, Roy entered the living room while Riza was starting the fire with his arms full of blankets. Not even a handful, he was laden with them. Apparently, they were both very fond of fluffy throws up here in the cold mountains, and after moving in, their collection doubled in size, so there was no shortage. He made little nest for the three of them on the couch. Hayate was more than eager to join their snugglefest.

“I wish it could be Christmas every day,” he murmured in her ear as the television droned on in the background, threatening to lull Riza to sleep. She was lying against his chest with Roy’s arms hooked over her shoulders. His hands rested just below her chest, and Riza had hooked her hands in his, her thumbs stroking over the backs of his hands.

“Hm? Really?” she yawned. “If it was Christmas every day then it would lose its magic.”

“True,” Roy agreed, repositioning his arms around her so he held her tighter. “But if it was Christmas every day, I could live through this feeling forever.”

Riza smiled and turned her head to look up at him. “Me too.”

“These past few days have been perfect, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds, but… If I could bottle this feeling forever, I would.”

Riza kissed the underside of his jaw. “It makes me happy to hear you say that.”

Roy chuckled. “This time last year we were in a similar situation.”

“Except we weren’t in here,” Riza added with a smile.

“No, we weren’t,” Riza laughed and kissed the part of his arm that she could reach. “Wanna go back to that?” he asked with a suggestive grin, waggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe later.” Roy raised an eyebrow. “Well, definitely later,” she added with a grin. “For now… Like you said, I just want to live in this moment forever. Let it be Christmas every day, I don’t care. Not when it feels this good.”

[alcheminary]

uhhhhh yeaaaaaah I’ve got an order for some edwin featuring parental roy and riza, hold the royai?

merry new year, @bifullmetal, I’m your secret santa for 2018!! I’m sorry this is late, I was held up by some travel plans that popped off a little earlier than I thought they would

you asked for basically anything, so my plan going in here was to deliver a wintery and modern spin on the classic mermaid au fic. of course it ran away from me, so now you get a wip of a fic, and that just seems like a bum present so I draw art to make up for that, and gosh dude I just hope you like it

thanks to @fullmetalsecretsanta for putting this event together for 2018, you guys are awesome, for sure

anyway, here’s a sneak peek at the first chapter!

(edit: sorry for the extra late posting, I saved this to my drafts again on accident which is kind of the most embarrassing mistake I could possibly make)

“The Sea Bleeds Blue” Chapter 1 (prototype)

“... the man is reported to have been under the influence of alcohol during the time of his encounter…”

The tiny little TV blares throughout the house from its perch on the kitchen counter, a feat much more impressive in possibly any other structure that isn’t a cramped beach house. Like, seriously cramped. The kind of cramped where you can barely lay flat across the floor without hitting a wall.

It’s not like Winry Rockbell hates her grandma’s beach house. In a way, she gets it. You get older, your health starts to go, the warm weather is easy on your joints and the air is just so much easier to breathe compared to city smog. And everyone else your age has the same idea, too. When you have a nest egg and no other obligations, why not? Why not just live at the beach, wake up every morning to the soothing ebb of waves, sip your coffee on a porch overlooking the scenery, be a family vacation destination in and of yourself, and just wait to die?

That’s her whole bugbear with the thing actually, now that she thinks about it. People come to the beach to die.

She blinks hard, reaches for her wire cutters, and tries not to think about it much more than that.

“... officials like park ranger Jean Havoc however say the injuries are more likely to have been caused by a particularly territorial sea lion,” the newscaster on the TV continues, her voice tinny and distorted by the on-board speakers. Honestly, she could fix those if Gran would let her...

“He might’ve been feedin’ ‘em, harassin’ ‘em… Sea lions ain’t known to be gracious about their personal space, so all it takes is one loud, persistent jerkwad to ruin their whole day. Heck, mine too! Hahaha.”

“The man was admitted to the hospital this morning, and is expected to make a full recovery…”

Paninya scoffs, loud enough to startle Winry just as she’s threading the headlight through its socket. Luckily a less delicate part of this process. “Sea lion my butt. I’ve bounced frisbees off those things and they haven’t moved.”

She pauses as she considers that image. “Please tell me you don’t make field goals out of sea lions on purpose.”

“Of course not! They’re just… big. And bouncy. And all over? You can’t go down the boardwalk without tripping on them. Like, seriously, is there like a sea lion sanctuary nearby or something? Don’t they migrate?” Paninya asks, her nose scrunching up.

“Uh, I think Mr. Hughes might—”

“No, wait, that’s beside the point,” she interrupts. “And the point here is that I’m not buying what that park ranger is selling.” Her deep brown eyes watch Winry expectantly.

Winry puts down the wires she was futzing with and turns to give her a long-suffering smile, resigning herself to the next few minutes being completely unproductive. “Alright, detective, give me the scoop. What’s really going on in Brightly Cove?”

Paninya always gets this wild grin on her face when she does this. The corner of her smile lifts up just so, her eyes glint, and she squares her shoulders like she’s the hardboiled crime noir star the situation needs.

“Okay, so,” she starts, “You saw the gashes on the guy, right?”

Winry shrugs. “A little bit.”

“Okay, well, they’re completely inconsistent with a sea lion attack. We’d be looking for bites and puncture wounds, and he got approximately uhh, NONE of those. So either sea lions have mutated to have razor sharp claws in the past week, or it wasn’t a sea lion and the park ranger is bullshitting us to cover up what it REALLY was.”

“Right, I’m following so far.”

“So, let’s set the scene.” She stands up to stalk around the incredibly small kitchen table toward Winry. “You’re a dumb tourist that came to the beach in the winter. You’ve brought a brand new jet ski with you, completely oblivious that the water is way too cold for that right now. Because you’re a dumb tourist.”

Winry takes the cue. “I’m a savvy tourist because I’ve arrived when no one is here and none of the shops are open! Locals LOVE my business! Sure hope nothing happens to me without any lifeguards!”

“You’re out on the water when you get caught… in a current! Waves come and pummel you towards the shore, one by one! Before you know it you’re smashed up against the rocks,  no shore to save you. You’re stuck.”

She musters the most dramatic slump over the back of the chair that she can manage. “Woe is the fate of a tourist such as I.”

“But wait!” Paninya raises a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from some kind of indoor sun. “What’s that coming toward you? It couldn’t be, is it a person, come to save you in your darkest hour? But then it comes closer, and you realize fate has never been so kind… because there, in the distance… is…“ She leans in close to Winry with a grave look.

“Is…?”

“Bigfoot with a machete.”

“Bigfoot with a—?!” Winry sputters, pushing Paninya away as she absolutely howls with laughter. “Your idea of a more likely culprit than a sea lion is Bigfoot with a machete?!”

“Uh, yeah?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Come on Winry. The gashes. The rocks. The collectible shot glass he leaves at the scene of every crime. It’s totally Bigfoot’s m.o.”

Winry turns back to the mess of robotics on the table. “I’m done with you. Completely done. I’m kicking you out.”

“What? Noooo, come oooon, I’ve got nothing else to do today! I’m gonna be so bored, Winry, pleeease,” Paninya whines, flopping bonelessly onto the table with her best puppy-dog eyes. Winry is mostly unaffected.

“Why not just go hang out with Lan Fan?” she asks. “She puts up with you way more than I do.”

“Can’t. She’s out with her grandpa ‘scoring sweet holiday deals’ at the outlets.” The complaint comes with air quotes. “Besides, you’ve been talking about how cool this project is gonna be for like, mooonths. I can’t miss it after that kind of hype.”

“I have kind of been taunting you with it, haven’t I?” Winry sighs, curling a loose wire around her finger. “Tell you what. If you can be quiet and not so… Paninya the amazing living distraction on me, then I’ll let you come with me later to do the experiment.” Paninya’s whole disposition perks up like a labradoodle. “But! That means no distractions.”

“Aye captain, no distractions,” Paninya promises with a little salute.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Several hours in that ramshackle beach house kitchen, crammed around a table and dutifully trying to keep potato chip crumbs from invading her whole zone (which, to Paninya’s credit, does not technically count as a distraction), and it’s finally complete. Just in time for low tide, too. The thing she’s been dreaming of doing for months, the senior project that will launch her college applications from drab to fab, the thing that will get her out of this backwater beach town for good...

“Okay, so. No more secrets. Tell me what your project is, Win,” Paninya demands, handing her a roll up cord out of the backpack they brought with them. Winry beams at her.

“Wwwweeell, do you remember those guys from like, San Fran who started building an aquatic robot to explore a hole that was rumored to have treasure at the bottom?”

Paninya pulls out a half-eaten bag of Ruffles from the backpack. “No, but that sounds completely rad. Is that your project? Oh shit, are we gonna find treasure?”

“Probably not,” Winry casually admits, ignoring the way Paninya deflates. “But the robot, yeah. The one they built was a world-wide collaboration across the internet. They had a goal, and people would test their builds by building one of their own, tweak it, and report their findings on those tweaks. It was super cool.”

“Yeah, cool for nerds maybe…” Paninya mumbles around a chip.

“SO,” she presses on, “I built one of my own. With some tweaks. You know, in the spirit of the thing. Now I just need to test it out, record my success, and write a whole essay on it.”

“Which is why we’re in the spooky cave that you can only get to at low tide and has a mysterious bottomless pit in it? So you can see if your ‘bot dives or fries?”

“Yep!” Winry answers cheerfully. “And why not just use Ling’s pool to do this instead? My legs don’t get good traction in here. I almost slipped earlier. I almost died.”

“Because Ling’s pool isn’t saltwater, and you’re fine.”

“Wow. Cold. Is this what a shitload of free time your senior year does to you, or is it just the overachieving itself?”

“Both,” Winry chirps, and plugs the cord into the tablet. She moves to plug in the other end into the robot itself, but frowns. The waterproof chassis doesn’t look right, like it settled in transport, skewing the whole design just slightly enough that it kind of worries her. Just that tiny bit of pressure on the cable could knock it out with the right bump, or damage the whole port.

Oh well. That’s why a scout’s always prepared, right? She pulls a knife out of her pocket and carefully shaves the plastic away to make room. And just like that, the plug fits like a charm. Nice and snug.

She turns to Paninya, and nods. “It’s show time.”

“Wait, waaaait,” Paninya stops her, waving a cheese-dusted hand around as the other reaches into the backpack. “It’s bad luck to sail a ship without a name. Got one?”

“Uh… I’ve just been calling it Divebot mark 1?” she offers.

Paninya stops digging through the supplies to stare. “Come on, Win. I’ve taught you to ‘yes and’ better than that.”

“Ugh, fine, okay. Um… Divey Jones?”

“Better.” Paninya reveals a can of ginger ale, and at Winry’s own disbelieving stare, shrugs. “It’s not like I have champagne, dude. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Gently, Winry eases the newly christened Divey Jones into the pool of water in front of them at the same time Paninya starts vigorously shaking the can. It floats on top of the surface, gently bobbing, and Winry tosses a grin at Paninya. First success: buoyancy. Next: video feed.

She boots up the tablet, jailbroken to run an open framework because nobody wants you to sandbox their stuff anymore, and opens the custom app she programmed just for this project. One part video capture, one part robot controller. It saved her the parts cost of making a controller, but also? It’s just a little more impressive for whoever looks over her work. Look, she can engineer hardware and software!

When the window prompt comes up to sync the devices, she starts to get jittery. It was one thing to test out at the house, where everything seemed to work just fine, but this was it. This was what either made her winter break a vacation or a mad dash to troubleshoot whatever could have possibly gone wrong in her schematics. The only thing separating her from either possibility was the flip of a switch.

She picks Divey back up from the water, turns it over, and flips it from “off” to “on”.

Immediately, it begins whirring to life, humming in her hand as the battery does its work. She picks up the tablet and pulls out a notepad lined with little squares to check off as she goes through the boot up process: Video feed online? Check. Headlights? Check. A quick figure eight around the little pool confirms that the fins and motors are working, and she checks that off as well.

It’s time for the big moment. She and Paninya nod at each other.

She deflates the swim bladder a little bit, and as Divey Jones begins to sink into the black abyss, Paninya opens the can of ginger ale to a satisfying arc of spray across the cavern, whooping and laughing at the mess it makes. “Bon voyage!!” she calls down the hole, and Winry shakes her head, smiling and turning her attention to guiding the robot on its way.

The “bottomless pit” is an old volcanic magma tube of some sort, five feet in diameter at the top but quickly narrowing as you go down, and filled with water that pours into the cave at every high tide. The cave that contains it is only accessible on foot during low tide, and you have to be careful not to get caught in the cave during high tide. There’s a ton of warnings on a sign outside that attempt to dissuade tourists from trying to camp out in it, and for good reason.

She got stuck in here at high tide once, when she was a kid. Blacked out and woke up to an ambulance and her grandma freaking out. Couldn’t step foot into the place for a few years after that, partly because of trauma, and partly because the park rangers have tightened up their watch on the place ever since.

So. She and Paninya aren’t really supposed to be here. But, you know. It’s for science.

Paninya leans her head on Winry’s shoulder and watches the video feed on the tablet, the only indicator of where the robot is now that it’s turned a corner out of sight. She presses a chip to Winry’s lips, who mindlessly opens her mouth to accept it she’s so focused.

“How deep is this thing, anyway?” Paninya asks after a few more moments of watching video of dark gray rock walls float by.

“Hopefully less than fifty feet? The cable isn’t any longer than that.”

“Yeah, and you’re almost out of rope,” Paninya observes, looking at the coil beside them that grows thinner and thinner as the robot dives onward. “So now might be a good time to say you see the bottom.”

“Well, I don’t see anythi… wait.” Winry leans forward, bringing the tablet screen up to her face, her brow furrowing. There’s a small irregularity in the tunnels further down where it opens up a bit more. It’s like… what it looks like when an octopus camouflages itself against a rock. But the video on Divey’s tiny little camera is so grainy… and it looks so, so much bigger than an octopus.

Paninya leans in closer. “What? What do you see?”

“I… don’t know?” she answers honestly, and then something really startles her. “Oh fuck, it moved. It just moved—”

“What moved? Where am I looking?”

“Right here!” She points at the screen, at the tiny mass of pixels that is growing and changing and moving, even as the robot sits still, and she doesn’t know what it is. A thought occurs somewhere in her head that maybe she should start backing Divey up, but before she can do anything the mass surges forward in a terrifying blur and the feed cuts to static.

“Divey, no!!” Paninya squeals, and Winry nearly tosses the tablet across the room. But she’s cool. She keeps her cool. She’s smarter than to throw away the one thing containing most of the several past months of work.

“What the hell could…” She stops, the zippy sound of cord sliding across rock catching her off guard. That pitiful coil of cord that was slowly disappearing into the abyss with Divey is disappearing so much faster now, and with the tablet still connected to it.

“Winry, Winry Winry Winry, the tablet, you’ve gotta let go of the tablet—” Paninya babbles, scrambling to get onto her feet, and Winry doesn’t even think this time. She fumbles for the knife at her side, and in one swift motion, severs the line, just in time for the newly frayed end to get sucked into the hole like spaghetti.

Her mouth is dry as she looks up at Paninya.

“Run.”

[mpmwrites]

Fallen: Penance

Hoh heeeeeyyyy there! I’m back with something totally new and different? @the-writing-of-a-gay-idiot maybe had a Guardian Angel Hankvin AU that I ran away with. SO here’s somehting that I probably might continue at least a little bit. Enjoy. T for language.

”Fuck.” Gavin cursed.

He never disliked work. He’d worked hard to get the move to children, and every day worked his hardest, knowing one slip could have him shifted right back to politicians, or felons, or teachers, or something equally as tedious and fruitless.

This was his slip.

He couldn’t have prevented the car accident. He'd spent the hours leading up to it shifting moments and stoplights and making the waitress at their table move a little faster with a sweet wave from Cole. He’d gotten Cole’s dad to leave work early and prevented the usual custody swap bitchfight from lasting too long. All to prevent the worst of hundreds of potential outcomes. To prevent Cole and his father from dying instantly, to give them their best chance. They were going to get hurt and he couldn’t prevent all of that. It was the worst part of his job, futilely watching as things happened he couldn't stop. There were things he just could not do. He couldn’t keep the road from icing over, couldn’t keep the truck from sliding, couldn’t make the car move slower.

Couldn’t stop Cole from hitting his head on the door panel.

Couldn’t keep the surgeon from getting high off his ass.

And now he was watching, begging, willing with all power he had to make the fucking android move faster.

Elijah Kamski’s guardian must  have been some kind of powerful to get those things created, but had never thought of the outcome. Guardians had no power over androids, not even in the slightest. He watched as the android was woken from stasis as soon as the nursing staff determined the surgeon couldn’t work. He watched as Cole was intubated while the android walked calmly through the halls.

He watched Cole die under his care, with the android still sanitizing for the procedure.

“Oh fuck.” Gavin repeated, breathless and stricken. The other three children in his care slept soundly in their beds, and as he began to cry, he sent them a silent farewell. They'd be taken from him, and there was nothing he could do.

He had to call it in, and even so, it was a painstaking few hours before the report made it through the proper channels and had someone showing up to relieve him. He had his wings tucked close to his back defensively, like a dog with its tail between his legs. He tried to focus on Hae-Joo who’s day was just beginning in South Korea as he fought his mother on getting up for school because of the exam he had that day. As he convinced Hae-Joo to eat a proper breakfast, Adra in Greece stretched for dance practice and Louis in Greenland continued to sleep.

Cole lay motionless in the morgue.

“Gavin?” The voice behind him made him flinch, sudden panic accompanying what he knew was next. “My name is Connor, I’m your relief sent by the balance department. I’ll be overseeing your charges while you’re put under review.” Spoke the other guardian. His wings were a pure white, contrasting sharply against his black suit. They made Gavin’s own mottled wings look tainted.

“Balance.” Gavin nodded, turning to his replacement. “You’re the dipshit that’s gonna take care of them?” He snapped, looking Connor up and down. “I swear to god if you hurt them I’ll rip every damn feather out of your wings one by one.” He seethed, more emotional than necessary, “Hae-Joo has a history exam today and he’s really fucking nervous even though he studied all last night. And Louis wants to ask Joanna out but he’s gonna get hurt if he does because she has a boyfriend, so make sure he’s careful and his friends are there, okay?” He was babbling, filled with his own panic amplified by what was to come for his kids. "And Arda has an audition coming up but there’s talent scouts coming and she doesn’t know, don’t let her forget to stretch before it!” He demanded, “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some prick from balances fuck up my kid’s lives.” He promised, hands fisting.

“I assure you that they’re in good hands, Gavin, you’re expected at the balance department’s review center.”

“And you better take care of Cole’s mom and dad.” Gavin punctuated coldly, shoulder checking Connor as he left.

”They’re not your children, Gavin.” Connor spoke plainly, causing Gavin to stop in his tracks. “They have mothers and fathers, but you are nothing to them. They don’t even know you exist.” He wasn’t snarky or mean, he stated his explanation factually.

“That doesn’t fucking mean I love them any less.” Gavin breathed, low and dark sounding. There was a tense moment of quiet between them, and Connor turned to watch him go.

“Be honest with the balances reviewer. It’s… unlikely that you’ve upset the balance with one child, but you will have to pay penance for your actions.” Connor offered, his tone light in a show of goodwill. “But, honesty goes miles for them, and leniency can be shown, especially for... someone who cares for his charges as much as you do.”

-----

“Gavin, Cole Anderson was not fated to die tonight, and under your care he did. While the death of one boy will not tip the scales dramatically, a life, especially that of a child, is absolutely not negligible.” Amanda preened. Her white dress gave way to the crystalline wings of a department head, similar to those of Perkins, the head of Gavin’s own department.

These were the most ancient and experienced guardians, ones that the likes of Gavin never wanted to have cause to counsel with. “However, it is clear that your oversight on the surgeon was unintentional, and that you truly do regret these events. For that, you will be allowed to seek redemption.” She explained, summoning a view of a face familiar to Gavin. He made to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him. Gavin closed his mouth and felt small before the two superior guardians, and stared at the face of Cole’s father, his hair was graying at the temples with age, and he looked so desolate, so broken, so gone.

Amanda began speaking again over the silence of Hank Anderson’s ex wife marching up to him with matching tears on her cheeks as she screamed. Hank didn’t even react. “You will be assigned to a special case, one which will allow you to soften the damage of what you’ve done. Hank Anderson will be your only charge, and your results on his case will be indicative of your future capabilities and assignments.” Amanda explained. “Connor will oversee your former charges, as well as your work with Hank. Do not let us down again, Gavin.” She preached, and Gavin felt the weight of it all pushing down on him.

"What am I supposed to do for him?" He spoke. What else could he say?

"The same as you do for any other charge; nurture him. Keep him safe in the way you failed to do for his son."

The answer hurt. It echoed deep within him as he was returned to his work, and festered there like some kind of pestilence.

His monitor was no longer sectioned into quadrants, but soley featured Hank wailing in his car in the hospital parking lot. Some privacy, Gavin registered as Hank sobbed and his nose ran and he wiped at his face with filthy, soaked sleeves. He was in no condition to drive, but Gavin checked possible paths of action anyway. Hank was 83.7% likely to stay at the hospital, though being there wasn't going to change anything that happened. No, the only thing that would change, that could change was what Hank did from that moment forward. What Gavin helped him to do.

He didn't interfere as Hank tried his damndest to get himself together enough to go back inside, but was overtaken by another wave of sobs. The bottom of the view read out 'Primary Emotive States: Guilt, Loneliness'. With a quick 72 hour check, Gavin could see that loneliness was something like Hank's default, but the guilt was entirely on Gavin's bloodied hands. It all hit him anew, and Gavin's tears flowed while Hank broke down completely. It was too much, way too much. Hours ago Cole was happy and laughing as his dad tried to sneak chicken nuggets off his plate and now Cole was gone, and Gavin would never see his toothy smile again. He'd never see Cole finish the drawing he started of Sumo before Hank took him to eat. It wasn't fair, not for Gavin, not for the surgeon who wouldn't have to answer for Cole's death, not for Cole, and absolutely not for Hank.

Hank started the car and fear plagued Gavin. It was still dark, still icy, and Hank was still shaking all over. Gavin preset the radio to light jazz, knowing Hank didn't need the distraction of talk radio or the intensity of the heavy metal that was listed in his profile prefernces (curated by his previous guardian). The notes had Hank draw a long breath that came out shaky but calmer than before, and Gavin watched with bated breath for the entire thirty-six minute drive home. Sumo barked loudly as Hank entered, but sobered immediately when Cole wasn't with him.

The empathy of animals astounded Gavin. In all his time as a guardian, he'd always had a preference for charges with pets, because, truthfully, they made his job easier. Sumo fed off of Hank's hurt, and followed his owner with his head hung and produced a small whine every now and again as Hank ignored him. Sumo would be Gavin's first tool to help Hank through this, and he hoped he wouldn't need any more.

He was wrong, and Hank seemed to know it.

For months Gavin tried, and tried, and god fucking damnit tried as Hank spiraled, worse and worse by each passing night. Gavin pleaded with him every night. He begged Hank not to drink, to eat something, to feed Sumo, to get some sleep, and no matter what he did, it was always the same. He would get Hank's card declined at the liquor store, only for Hank to pull out cash. He'd get Hank to completely forget his wallet at home, and Hank would still go back out to medicate himself. He'd get a suspect to give Hank a good chase to exhaust him, and Hank would only drink until he passed out sooner than usual. The only way he could get Hank to eat anything healthy was when he had the takeout guy deliver a side salad with his pizza by mistake.

He was failing, and felt his failure grow exponentially with every carefully manipulated round of Russian roulette. "Stop fucking blaming yourself." Gavin demanded out loud, knowing full well Hank couldn't hear him over the click of the empty pistol barrel. "It's not your fucking fault." He cried as he eased the probability and the barrel stopped one shot short of fatality. "I did this to you." he swore as tears fell and Hank found another slug of whiskey more appealing than the next shot. "Stop." he kept begging, watching Hank stand to stumble to the bathroom, only to return and spin the barrel again. "What am I supposed to do for you?!" He screamed as Hank wavered with the revolver aimed near his temple. His hand shook enough that he dropped the weapon and conceded for the night.

Gavin's wings fluttered with frustration, and a feather or two drifted to the ground as a result of his stress. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes as Hank collapsed on the couch, Sumo dutifully coming over to lay within arm's reach. Gavin kicked out, but there was nothing for his foot to land on in the blank room where he worked, so he marched to the wall and punched it. It felt good, and Hank began snoring, so he did it again, and again, and again.

If he were human, his knuckles would have at least busted open, if his fingers themselves weren't broken form the impact. As a guardian, there was no physical evidence of his outburst. He tugged at his hair, willing himself to not give up. He couldn't, not after what he did for Cole, and Hank needed him. If Gavin hadn't watched his every move for the past few months, Hank would have killed himself already, but Gavin didn't know what to do anymore.

He laid his palm against the view in front of him and pleaded one more time " I want to help you." The sob that shuddered out of him was unbidden, but Gavin didn't hold back. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry, but you have to stop blaming yourself."

[ingloriousblasters]

Second Chances (Merle x OC) AU - Chapter Eleven

Synopsis: Finding herself pregnant and unwed, Nora Buckley thought she’d never return to the small town of Redwater, Georgia. Five years later, life has brought her back to the town she swore she’d never go back to. In a hurry to find a place to live and a job to provide for her daughter, Anna, Nora reluctantly takes a position at the old Dixon farm on the outskirts of town, where she meets fellow Redwater outcast, Merle Dixon. Takes place in early 1960s. 

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

A/N: So I wanted to get this chapter out before I leave for the weekend. I’ve had this chapter planned for like months (maybe almost a year) and didn’t realize until yesterday how almost holiday appropriate it was? Although, I’m envisioning the timeline somewhere around the end of September, so not quite Halloween. 

Warnings: Some spoilers for the movie Psycho, so if you somehow haven’t seen, or don’t know the twist ending to an almost 60 year old movie, you’ve been warned. 

Chapter Eleven

The day Merle was given the all clear, he hurled himself back into the fields. His arm ached every now and then, but he refused to relax. Everyone was busy on their own schedule as summer finally seemed to be drawing to a close. Anna and Nora’s mornings became less frantic as they fell into a routine, with Anna still able to gather eggs from the coop before breakfast. They had everything down to a science and knew exactly what time the bus would be out front.

The sudden lack of spare time also allowed Merle to avoid the eventual conversation with Nora about what happened on the tractor. It was the only thing on his mind as he tended to the fields, how close he was. It was like an electric force pulling them together before Darylina ruined it. Dummy couldn’t ever take a hint. Merle wasn’t sure how to bring it back up, or if Nora even wanted him to since she never talked about it again either. In a way, he was almost content to never talk about it again. Merle never understood why he was this way when he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He could feel Nora slipping from him as the days went by, and the thought of that made him angry. Merle threw a rotten tomato as hard as he could towards the woods, and sighed. Distracted in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the swooshing sound of the plant leaves getting closer.

“Hey,” Nora called.

“Shit!” Merle whispered and whirled his head around at her voice. His sudden turn causing Nora to take a step back.

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

Merle huffed a laughed. “What?” Aw, nah darlin. Ya didn’t scare me.” He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, while his heart rate started to even out on the inside. Nora raised a brow at him.

“Uh, what did ya need?” he asked.

“I was just seeing how much longer you were gonna be out here,” she responded. “I was gonna get a roast started since Anna will be home soon.”

“Jesus,” Merle rubbed a hand over his sweat drenched face. “Is it that time already?”

“Mmhm.”

“Ya know, sometimes I don’t even know what day it is?” he joked.

Nora gave him a short smile while she folded her arms. “Well, you’ve been pretty busy,” she answered.

Merle could hear the forced kindness in her voice. It stung his heart. His eyes fell and he stared at his dirt covered boots while nodding his head. The awkward silence of their first encounters seemed to be breathing new life again.

“Well, I guess I better get back to the house,” Nora said softly and Merle watched as her shadow slowly moved away from him. Ya gonna lose her for good if ya don’t do something, Dixon, his mind yelled at him.

“Wait!” Merle called and jogged up the row of green vegetation. Nora stopped to let him catch up. All of their conversations since the tractor had been brief, nothing lasting longer than a few minutes. She wondered what was so important now.

“I, uh wanted to thank ya for everything you did while I was outta commission,” he smiled.

“Oh,” Nora said flatly. “You’re welcome.” She moved to head back towards the house when she felt Merle’s warm hand wrap around her upper arm, gently pulling her back.

“No, uh, what I meant was...um,” Merle’s hand moved from Nora to scratch the back of his head while he thought of the right words. “When was the last time ya seen a picture?”

Nora shrugged her shoulders.

“Um, I...I’d like ta take ya, if you’ll let me, this weekend. They finally showing that new Hitchcock one over in Greenwood.” Merle held his breath as he waited for her to respond.

Nora furrowed her brows as she thought Merle’s words over. He hadn’t so much as complimented her since the tractor incident. A part of her thought Merle might have changed his mind after that day, that their relationship had become too real so he backed off. She watched his mannerisms while thinking it over, noticing how he bit his lower lip and his eyes almost resembled that of a puppy dog with his brows lifting and creasing at an angle. She was still a little upset with him, but she couldn’t deny she wanted to go.

“What about Anna?” she asked.

“Daryl could watch her or something,” Merle immediately replied. “I take that as a yes?”  Nora smiled again, this time with a softness in her features and a hopefulness in her eyes, and nodded her head.

“It’s a date then,” Merle remarked and walked with her to the farmhouse. The fields had been tended to enough for the day.

--------------------------------------------

Nora stood in front of the small sink in the shed, holding her compact mirror in one hand and adjusting the strands of her unruly hair with the other. The lamp near the kitchenette held the best light and she stuck the mirror further out to see as much of herself as she could. She had pinned her waves back on both sides and let the rest hang loose, hitting just past her shoulders. Nora moved her head back and forth and up and down, making sure the little makeup she did put on hadn’t smudged. She had coated her lashes in a deep black mascara and painted her lips with a soft red to contrast against the blush colored, tea length dress she decided to wear. Her eyes caught Anna, sitting on the bed with a smile on her face watching her. A knock at the door cut through the silence and Anna ran over to let Merle in.

“Merle!” she greeted him wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Hey Bug, you and ya Mama ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” Nora answered while turning around and closing her compact. She walked over to the small table and placed it in her coin purse then walked up towards the two. Merle’s smile grew as she neared, his eyes roamed from the top of her head down to her feet and he tucked his hands in his back pockets.

“Hi,” he grinned while his shoulders swayed back and forth and his blue eyes finally landed back on Nora’s.

“Hi,” she smiled softly. Her full cheeks turning a slight pink hue. For the briefest moment it was just them.

“Why can’t I go to the movie?” Anna whined, breaking the bubble Merle and Nora found themselves in once more.

“Because this is a grown up movie, baby,” Nora said. She walked back to the table and grabbed the white canvas bag she had packed Anna’s stuff in. “You remember me telling you that. Ya gonna go over to Doris and Marty’s house tonight and have dinner.” Anna sighed and pouted as she walked out of the shed door and towards the parked vehicles, kicking at whatever piece of nature fell in her path.

“We’ll go see a cartoon soon, Bug. Alright?” Merle tried to reason with the five year old. He didn’t even think Anna might be jealous about them going somewhere without her. He clearly still had a lot to learn about kids.

They loaded up in Merle’s truck and headed into town. When they got to Doris’ house, Anna seemed to perk up a bit. The warm, sweet scent of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies hit their noses as the front door opened and Doris ushered them in. Nora knew Anna would be spoiled rotten here, but she didn’t mind. In fact, Anna managed to talk Doris into eating a cookie before dinner just to make sure they tasted good.

“So what show are you going to?” Doris asked with enthusiasm while walking Nora and Merle to the door.

“Oh, that new Hitchcock one,” Nora replied.

“Oh my,” the older woman responded. “The magazines say it’s suppose to be terrifying.”

Merle waved a passing hand at her. “Ain’t nothing that can scare a Dixon,” he boasted. Nora smiled to herself at his words, thinking about the other day when Merle jumped when she called him.

“We should be back around nine thirty or so,” Nora replied as they walked out to the porch.

“Oh take your time dear, no rush,” Doris waved them goodbye.

--------------------------------------------

The ride over to Greenwood was passed with anticipated talk about the movie. It had finally made its way down to the small towns of America and they both wondered how scary it would be. The drive-in was half full by the time Merle pulled into the large expanse. The gravel crunched underneath the tires as they slowed and turned into a spot near the back. As Merle turned the ignition off an advertisement with dancing bags of popcorn, hotdogs, and cups of soda appeared on the giant screen, illuminating the truck in red and blue hues.

“Ya want something ta eat? Im starvin,” Merle asked and Nora agreed. Before hopping out of the truck, he cranked the driver side window down and the brisk night air filled the cab. Merle reached for the round speaker attached to the post and hung it on the door as he got out. With Merle’s broad frame gone, the cool air sent a shiver down Nora’s spine. She folded her arms over each other as goosebumps started to appear, but they only became worse as the screen went black and suddenly sharp, franic, string notes began to play through the metal speaker. A few minutes later, Merle returned with a large bag of buttery popcorn and two cokes. He handed Nora the beverages through the open window before getting back in.

“Music’s kinda creepy ain't it?” he stated.  

“Uh hunh,” Nora responded while reaching for a handful of popcorn. They munched on the snack and slurped their drinks as the credits continued to roll. When the screen finally landed on a woman in her lingerie reclining in bed with a shirtless man standing next to her, Merle let out a low whistle.

“This is gonna be some movie,” he whispered. Merle continued to give his own commentary as the film went on to Nora’s enjoyment.

“Atta girl,” he hollered when Marion Crane packed her bags and the forty thousand dollars.

Nora asked for some more popcorn and Merle held the bag in the middle of them, waiting for Nora to reach her hand out. When she did, he pulled his away and chuckled.

“Merle!” Nora laughed at his antics. She tried again and Merle pulled away. Giving a huff, Nora tried for a third time and when Merle stuck his arm out, this time he let her grab a handful of the salty treat. After taking a sip of the sweet, syrupy soda a chill ran through her body and Nora folded her arms again, rubbing her hands up and down her expose skin.

“Ya cold?” Merle asked as he glanced over at her sitting in the passenger seat.

“Just a little.”

“Come here,” Merle set the bag of popcorn in his lap and raised his right arm, resting it along the top of the bench seat. Nora looked over at him and bite her lip. Slowly, she slid across the faded tan plastic. Moving to the middle seat, Nora smoothed out the skirt of her dress when Merle’s arm slid around her. The warmth from his calloused hand running up and down her arm soon had Nora relaxed and comfortable. While Merle absentmindedly stroked her arm, Nora took the bag of popcorn from his lap and started to munch on a few pieces. With his other hand, Merle reached over to try and grab some and when she saw him out of the corner of her eye, Nora moved the bag at the same time. A smile creeped on her face.

Merle bellowed a laugh. “Alright, I deserved that.”

Soon they became engrossed in the movie that had taken an eerie turn when the woman stopped at an almost abandoned motel. The popcorn was tossed to the side as the suspense kicked in. The lack of music playing on the screen made Nora uneasy and without thinking, she placed a nervous hand on Merle’s knee.

The silence in the air was deafening and Nora’s grip tightened as the blurred image of the bathroom door opened and a shadowy figure neared the shower. Nora felt Merle’s arm stiffen as the figure came closer and closer. When the curtained opened and the shrilling music started to play, Nora jumped and Merle’s hand clamped down on her side.

“Oh shit!” he yelled as the woman was stabbed to death in quick flashes. Screams erupted from the surrounding vehicles at the terror on the screen, and Nora closed her eyes until the music subsided. Her heart pounded against her chest and she could still feel Merle’s grip on her.

“What kinda movie did you take me to?” she turned to face him. Merle just stared at the screen, wide eyed with his mouth opening and closing trying to find words, but nothing came out. Nothing scares a Dixon, huh? Nora smirked to herself. They spent the rest of the movie in each other’s embrace with Nora eventually resting her head on Merle’s plaid covered shoulder. When Detective Arbogast met his doom, they jumped in unison again.

Neither spoke as the screen faded to black and they waited for the line of cars leaving to die down before Merle started the old truck. Both lost in their own thoughts about what they just watched.

“I liked it,” Nora finally said as they traveled down the dark stretch of road connecting Greenwood to Redwater.

“Ya did?” Merle asked. He glanced over to Nora’s shadowy frame and then back at the dimly lit road, amazed at her words.

“Mmhm, it was different,” she responded.

“Yep, it was,” he agreed.

So are you. The thought flitted through Merle’s head as they passed the worn down sign welcoming them back to Redwood.

--------------------------------------------

They stopped at Doris and Marty’s to pick up a zonked out Anna. Dressed in her purple night shirt and pants, the little girl was curled up on the couch with her favorite stuffed puppy dog tucked underneath one arm. Nora scooped her up in her arms and she and Merle gave whispered ‘thank yous’ and ‘goodbyes’ to the older couple. Merle opened the passenger side door for Nora and helped her get in, waiting until both her and the kid were settled before shutting it.

The ride back to the farmhouse was quiet so as to not disrupt Anna’s sleep and when Merle parked in the grassy area, he hopped out and took her from Nora’s arms.

“Here,” he gestured. “I got her.” They carefully transferred the tired girl from Nora’s lap to Merle’s arms, trying their best not to wake her. Anna’s heavy eyes fluttered open a few times through the exchange, but she quickly nuzzled into the crook of Merle’s neck and fell back asleep.

Nora walked in front of him to open the door to the shed and Merle gently laid Anna on the rickety mattress and pulled the covers over her. They walked back outside, and Nora shut the door quietly. Out in the open air, she looked up at Merle while tucking her unruly strands of hair behind her ear. From the light of the full moon, she could see the prominent outline of his strong jaw, and his blue eyes had a hypnotizing glow to them.

“I had a nice time tonight,” she commented, as she pushed her hair away again while the breezy night continued to undo her efforts.

“Yeah, me too,” Merle agreed. “Should do it again sometime.”

Nora nodded her head and smiled.

“Uh, I was thinking,” he started again and paused.

“Yeah?” Nora urged him on, fixing another flyaway strand. Merle lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, his hand cupping her cheek. He forgot what he was going to ask as he got lost in Nora’s eyes. Suddenly, he felt like he was back on the tractor, she was so close to him again.  

“Daryl ain’t around is he?” he whispered as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek. Nora shook her head as her heart began to pick up a fast rhythm. Her eyes glanced to Merle’s lips as he quickly licked them and his face inched closer to her own. A feeling of deja vu came over her for a split second, thinking something would interrupt them again, but the idea went away as quickly as it came when Merle’s lips connected with hers. Nora closed her eyes and sighed at the warmth that ran through her body. Merle’s slightly chapped lips glided over hers and Nora’s body awakened for the first time in years.  The electricity flowing between them couldn't be ignored and Merle let a groan of satisfaction slip from his mouth. Nora wrapped her arms around Merle’s neck, running her hands through the short curls at the base of his neck.

Remembering what he was going to ask, Merle reluctantly broke away from her lips to ask Nora what he had intended.

“Uh, listen,” he started, still in a haze. “I was thinking, the nights are gonna start getting pretty cold out here soon, and I don’t want the kid getting sick. I was thinking...” Merle paused again and cleared his throat. “I want ya both to come move into the house.”

Nora’s mouth fell open. “Really?” she asked.

Merle nodded his head.

Nora smiled and tugged him closer to continue where they left off moments ago. Merle’s hand snaked around Nora’s waist while his other dared to creep lower, resting on her bottom. A faint moan escaped Nora’s mouth. Both needing a breath, they broke apart again huffing in the night air. Merle could feel the blood beginning to flow below his waist, but knew nothing would happen tonight.

“Well, guess we better call it a night. Gotta a lot to do tomorrow,” he said before he could make a fool of himself.

“Ok,” Nora smiled and slowly dropped her arms from him. She turned to open the shed door and paused with her hand on the knob.

“Merle?” she called.

“Yeah?”

Nora walked towards him and lifting on her tiptoes placed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Night, sugar,” he grinned.

“Sugar? No more darlin?” Nora joked.

“Ya always be my darlin, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna get enough of ya sugar...sugar.”

Nora’s cheeks flushed with warmth and slight embarrassment from the new nickname. “Night,” she giggled and pushed Merle’s chest playfully.

She changed into her nightgown and joined Anna on the bed, but found herself unable to fall asleep. Her thoughts filled not with the terror of a mentally unstable killer, but of the rugged, grumpy farmer who gave her a chance when she needed it most, and somehow snuck his way into her heart.

Tags: @tyferbebe

[eternalnight8806-3]

Ch 1. The Cat and the Fox

Here’s another chapter fic for you guys!

@keichanz @noviceotakus-blog

Also available on AO3 and ff.net

Category: Romance, Modern College AU

Rating: Will be Explicit but for now I’ll just say Mature for language and drinking

Words: 4,541

Backstory on my universe: Humans know of the existence of demons, but they don't usually intermingle. Demons keep to themselves in their own areas of the world and humans do the same. Hanyou children are practically unheard of, though 1 or 2 will be born every hundred years or so. They are treated as less than by the demon community and with fear from the humans. Neither world truly accepts them. InuYasha lives amongst humans because his mother, Izayoi, was human. He often wears a hat or something of the like to hide his ears from humans. They always treat him with disdain when they learn what he is. The only person other than his mother to treat him well is Miroku, his childhood friend. His father died shortly after his birth, but no one knows exactly what happened to the InuTaisho. Izayoi died when InuYasha was 17. He is now 20 and attending human university studying culinary arts. He loves food and he figured if no one knew a hanyou was making their food then they couldn't complain. He lives in a frat house under scholarship.

Please let me know what you guys think!

“Miroku, this is by far the stupidest thing you've ever convinced me to do.” InuYasha stated as he looked at himself in the mirror. He wore a well fitted long tailed black tuxedo complete with red cummerbund and bowtie. A red lace fox type mask covered his face but accentuated his deep amber eyes. His waist long white-silver hair hung loosely.

Miroku walked by and gently flicked one of InuYasha's white dog ears atop his head. “Quit complaining. You have to stop hiding up here every time the house hosts a fucking party, dude. If you're going to be a brother, you have to do brother stuff. That includes this masquerade Halloween party.”

A loud thunk could be heard reverberating throughout the room as InuYasha smacked Miroku across the back of his head. “You know I can't fucking stand it when you touch my ears, asshole.”

Miroku rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah. Just quit whining. It's going to be more fun than you think. Just wait and see!” Miroku winked at his friend as he grabbed his own Phantom of the Opera style mask off of his dresser and slipped it on his face. “How do I look?” He asked as he did an overly dramatic twirl.

“Fucking stupid.” InuYasha grumbled. He looked down at his own feet, covered with brand new dress shoes he had somehow been conned into buying. “These fucking shoes pinch my feet. I ain't wearing 'em.” With that, he flicked each one off of his foot and threw them towards Miroku's half of their shared room.

Miroku just shook his head at his friend. “Suit yourself. But you're not getting out of going. You better be down in five minutes or upperclassman Kuno will have both our asses.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he said as Miroku walked out of the room to join the party that was already in full swing downstairs.

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, InuYasha sighed. He wiggled his toes on the hardwood floor, enjoying the freedom of not having the restrictive shoes. Never in his life had he worn anything other than flip flops when he wore shoes at all. Absolutely refusing to put the dress shoes back on, InuYasha said a quiet “Fuck it,” to himself as he stormed out of the room barefoot to join his frat brothers and their stupid party.

“Sango, I don't know how you talked me into this outfit.”

Sango side eyed her best friend in the passenger seat of her car. “Kagome, you look smoking. Every guy will love it.”

“Well yeah! Only because it's so tight I can't breathe!” She fiddled with the drawstring on the corset of her skin tight faux leather catwoman costume.

“Kagome, we're in college now. We're supposed to wear sexy Halloween costumes to dumb parties!”

Kagome pouted in her seat. She knew her friend was just trying to help her have fun and try new things, but this outfit made her extremely uncomfortable. It was so low cut she might as well not have a top on in her opinion. The drawstring in the front didn't really function to hold it closed, but more to draw more attention to her breasts. The pants did make her ass look good, she could admit that much, but she was afraid if she sat down she'd bust a seam. The only things about the costume she didn't mind were the simple black face mask and cute cat ears.  “Fine. But if my ass comes out of these pants you're going to regret making me buy this.”

Sango laughed. “Fair enough,” she said as she pulled into the parking lot nearest the most infamous party frat on Shikon University's property, B.E.W. She pulled out the final piece of her own costume, a thin light pink cloth eye mask and put it on. Looking over at Kagome she inquired, “How do I look?”

Kagome sized her up. The girl wore a tight fitting black sexy ninja costume. Her own top was cut lower than Kagome's, showing off her ample assets. A pink sash adorned her slim waist, holding her fake sword in place. She had to admit she looked damn good. “Amazing,” she answered honestly.

Smiling, Sango opened her door and yelled, “Let's do this shit!” as she climbed out. Kagome shook her head at her friend and opened her own door to follow.

An hour later, Kagome was completely trashed. Sango had thrust cup after cup of beer in her hand, determined to get her friend as drunk as possible. But now Kagome hadn't seen Sango in atleast 20 minutes, ever since one of the frat boys in a Phantom of the Opera mask had asked her to dance with him. Stumbling in her stiletto heals, Kagome found herself firmly planted into someone's very hard back.

“What the fu-” InuYasha turned just in time to see an obviously drunk girl start to fall backwards. He reached out reflexively and wrapped the girl up in his arms. A moment passed where he simply held her to his chest before he looked down at her. His breath hitched in his throat when chocolate eyes met his own. Even through her face mask and his drunken stupor, he knew this girl was beautiful. “You ok?” he asked her.

Smiling up at the man who had kept her from unceremoniously falling on her stupidly drunk ass, Kagome nodded. She was enamored with the effort this guy had put into his costume. The long white wig, the absolutely adorable white ears on his head, and the enchanting amber contacts that she couldn't stop staring at.  

InuYasha slowly let the girl go, making sure she was steady on her feet. A worried frown crossed his features. This girl was beyond incapable of getting home safely and he didn't see anyone around who seemed to be with her. Had she been stupid enough to come to a party alone?  “Hey, you alone?” He asked her, gruffly.

Kagome had been busy staring at his bare feet. She wondered where his shoes had gone. Slowly, she looked back up into those gorgeous eyes. Some of the fogginess cleared from her brain and she realized he'd asked her a question. “Hmm?”

InuYasha was a bit foggy himself, having drank half a keg in order to stand being around this many people at once. It took him a moment to register that she hadn't heard him. “Did you come with someone?” His ears twitched slightly, trying to hear only her above all the party noise.

She nodded, lazily, but didn't speak. Her eyes were glued to the top of his head, watching his ears. She could have sworn they had just moved. Shaking her head slightly, she told herself she was just way too drunk at the moment.

Growing irritated with the girl, InuYasha waved his hand in front of her face. “Hey, do you need help finding them or somethin'?”

Kagome giggled and swayed on her feet. “She's a ninja!” she managed to say between bursts of laughter. “You'll never find her!”

Shaking his head, InuYasha put his drink down and took the girls' hand in his own. He knew he would feel guilty as hell if he just left her alone. His mother had taught him better than that. “C'mon. Lets get you some water and try to find your ninja.”

A shock went through her hand when this man grabbed hers. Secretly, she wondered if he felt it too. She allowed him to lead her upstairs and into a bedroom, presumably his own. Dropping her hand, he went to a small mini fridge in the corner and took out a bottle of water and handed it to her. Taking it from him, she looked around the room nervously.

Seeing her discomfort, InuYasha worked to quell her fears, “I promise I ain't gonna hurt ya or nothin'. The kitchen's just nothing but beer and dumbshits right now.”

Kagome nodded once and opened the water to take a sip. She watched the man slump down on the bed in the far corner of the room and tuck his feet under himself. Unconsciously, she walked over and sat next to him. She didn't notice when her hand brushed his thigh on her way down.

InuYasha gulped when her hand trailed over his thigh. His eyes turned her way as she sat next to him, seemingly unaware of what she had done. Clearing his throat, he tried to break the tension, “So, catwoman, huh?”

Kagome looked down at herself and the costume Sango had picked out for her. She snorted. “My friend made me.”

InuYasha looked fully at her this time and smiled. “Yeah, mine too,” he said as he gestured to his own outfit.

“Oh, I think it's adorable!” Kagome exclaimed. “What an awesome fox you make!” She flashed him her own smile.

“Keh.” He decided to let her think it was a costume. That was the point afterall. “Not as good as yours,” he said, trying to pull the focus away from himself. Though he was finding it strangely easy to talk to this girl.

The pair sat like that for a long while, talking about themselves, though strangely never telling eachother their names. Somehow, it never came up. Kagome told him of leading a sheltered life as a private school girl. Her father had died when she was young but he had left her family with enough money to allow both her and her brother to get the education he thought they should have. She informed him she was studying to become a teacher.

InuYasha told her of losing his mother 3 years ago and the fact that he didn't really fit in anywhere. However, he did not tell her why. They talked about his culinary arts major and his love of food. Almost any food to be honest. InuYasha was not picky by nature. They spoke of his love of the outdoors and how if he could he would sleep outside every night. She told him she'd love to see the stars without all the light pollution the city had. Secretly, he knew a place they could go for such a pleasure, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her that.

Time passed quickly and not even InuYasha noticed when the noise downstairs started to fade. He was so enamored with this girl. Never would he know what caused him to have the courage to ask her what he asked her next. “Hey, do ya think I could have your number?” Panicking immediately at what had come out of his mouth, he tried to back peddle slightly, “Um, just so I know you're ok tomorrow and everything?”

Silently, she held her hand out for his phone, smiling at him. He watched her in awe as she typed her number into his phone. She handed it back to him just as an extremely drunk Sango stumbled into the room.

“There you are!” she shouted. InuYasha flattened his ears to the screeching. “I've been looking everywhere for you!” Kagome stood and went to support her friend, herself being almost sober at this point. She gave InuYasha an apologetic look as she wrapped her friend's arm around her shoulder and began to help her downstairs.

InuYasha didn't miss that her friend had indeed been wearing a ninja costume. He chuckled quietly as he got up to rid himself of the stupid clothes and mask. He fell back down on to his bed face first and quickly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of deep brown eyes and a beautiful smile.

The next morning, InuYasha awoke with a pounding headache. The light streaming in through the window was making him want to curse the sun's existence. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his aching head. He noticed that Miroku had fallen into bed fully clothed at some point in the night. Shaking his head at his friend, he moved to get up when memories from the night before came flooding back to him.

The image of chocolate brown eyes and perfectly pouty lips assailed him. Forgetting his pounding head for the moment, InuYasha sat there and thought about the events of the previous night. This girl had willed things out of him with so much ease. She had seemed comfortable in his presence. He, the master of few words, had spoken to her for literal hours and not once had he become bored or felt like he was annoying her. That's when the last few moments they spent together hit him like a tanker truck. She had given him her number!

With speed only he could muster, InuYasha reached for his phone and quickly unlocked it. It was still on the page that she had entered her number on. She hadn't saved it, but luckily his phone hadn't died overnight. He also noticed she hadn't put in a name. Shrugging, he quickly filled in “Catwoman” in the name slot and clicked the save button.

Seeing it was well after noon, he decided it was safe to check on her and her friend. He typed a quick message to her.

Hope you and your drunk ninja made it home ok

He sat the phone back on his nightstand and went about his normal morning routine, with the addition of pounding back half a dozen Tylenol to stave off his hangover headache. Since no one else was awake, he moved at lightning speed getting himself cleaned up and ready for the day, including piling his hair into a messy bun over his ears and planting a red beanie on his head. All the frat brothers know about him being a hanyou, but he didn't know who had crashed here after the party. He didn't need that drama.

The frat brothers had initially not wanted InuYasha in with them, but Miroku coaxed them into it. It had taken him over a year but he finally felt like most of them didn't absolutely hate his guts. Miroku was still the only one he could call a friend, but the others were starting to atleast try.

Coming back into his bedroom, he noticed a text message notification. He picked up his phone and saw it was from the mysterious Catwoman.

All safe. She's still passed out. The sun woke me up along with the worst headache of my life. I'm never going to drink again.

Letting out a rumbling laugh, he typed out a reply.

Yeah. Me too. I can't believe we let our friends talk us into this bullshit

On the other side of campus, Kagome smiled when she saw her mystery savior had replied to her message. She had nicknamed him “Foxy” both in her head and in her phone. Both because of his fox costume and because she just knew he would be. Smiling at his reply, she thought about what to say next to him.

Thanks for taking care of me last night. I was a real mess. Sorry about that.

His reply was almost instant.

Don't mention it. I've dealt with much worse

She quirked an eyebrow.

Oh yeah?

Yeah. My asshole best friend likes to get so drunk he can't stand every other night. I've seen everything from him blubbering like a baby to him puking all over my feet.

A few moments passed and she received another message from Foxy.

Sorry. That was probably too much.

Sango began to stir in the bed across from her. Kagome typed quickly.

Not at all. But my friend is starting to wake up finally and I'm probably going to have to hold her hair all day. See you!

She didn't have to wait long for a reply.

Have her drink lots of water and aspirin. I hear it helps. Glad you guys are ok.

Putting her phone back down on the nightstand, Kagome went over to check on Sango.

“Owwwwwww.” Sango mumbled as she slowly sat up. Rubbing her temples with both her hands she asked, “What the hell happened last night?”

Kagome sat next to her and handed her a glass of water and two aspirin. “Well, you abandoned me to dance with a frat boy and I slept with the first guy I bumped into.”

Sango's head whipped around so fast that Kagome could have sworn she heard the swoosh of the wind it made. “You did what?!?!”

Kagome burst out laughing and immediately regretted it. Clutching her head in her hand, she replied, “No, Sango. Of course not. Though I did talk to one for a while.”

Sango breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ Kagome. You about gave me a heart attack.”

Smiling at her friend, Kagome said “Sorry. I had to pay you back for abandoning me somehow.”

A look of remorse crossed her friend's features. “Damn, Kagome. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear.”

“I know you didn't. It's ok. I forgive you. Did you have fun, atleast?”

Nodding, Sango lifted her phone from its place on her nightstand and opened it. Kagome watched as she flipped through a few pictures before settling on one to show her. Looking at the offered picture, Kagome noticed that the Phantom frat boy had taken his mask off. He had semi short black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Two gold hoop earrings adorned his left ear and one his right. He had dark, kind looking eyes. “He's cute.” Kagome stated, truthfully.

Pulling her phone away, Sango nodded. “Yeah, he is. His name's Miroku. But god he's so handsy.”

Kagome giggled. “And that's a problem for you why exactly?”

Sango shouldered her friend. “Hey! I'm not that bad.”

“Uh huh.”

Sango glowered playfully. “Did you have fun?”

Kagome nodded. “Yeah. I really did spend most of the night talking to a guy.”

Sango raised an eyebrow. “Did you now?”

“Don't act so surprised!”

Raising a hand in mock defeat, “Hey, if the shoe fits...”

“Sango I swear!”

Laughter was her only response for a moment. “So, did you and mystery guy do more than talk?” She waggled her eyebrows.

Slapping her friend lightly, “No! I did give him my number though. He texted me earlier to make sure we made it home ok.”

“Ooo. He sounds sweet, Kagome. He got a name?”

“Foxy.”

A puzzled look crossed her friend's face. “Foxy?”

Kagome played with the end of her hair, nervously. “We never actually exchanged names. He was dressed like a fox so I nicknamed him Foxy.”

“How did you never get his name?”

Shrugging, “I don't know. It just never came up. We talked about pretty much everything else, though. He's a culinary arts major.”

“A guy that can cook. Good choice! Though you might want to know his name.”

“I don't even know what he really looks like. His costume was super elaborate. He had a wig and contacts even.”

“Wow. Commitment.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, maybe you guys can meet in the light of day.”

“I don't know, Sango. We were both pretty drunk. He may not like what he sees sober.”

Sango's eyes rolled. “You're hot, Kagome. But whatever. Suit yourself.” She stood and stretched. “I'm gonna go shower.”

“K.” Kagome watched her friend grab her shower caddy and bathrobe and exit their dorm room before she stood and went to pick up her phone again. Her finger hovered over the message app for a solid minute before finally working up the courage to type.

My friend's all good. How's yours?

InuYasha pulled his phone from his back pocket when he felt it vibrate while stirring his pot of ramen with his other hand. Yeah, he was a culinary arts major, but he was still a poor college student and the stuff was actually pretty damn good. Smiling to himself upon seeing that Catwoman had texted him, he quickly opened the message and read it.

Not awake yet. Probably gonna sleep all fucking day. Lazy bastard.

Lol. That's not very nice.

What can I say? I'm blunt.

An honorable quality. Hey, I have a question for you if that's ok?

Shoot.

He turned off the stove and took the giant pot of ramen to the couch with a fork and proceeded to dig in wholeheartedly.

Why were you so nice to me last night? Most guys would've tried to... you know.

Chuckling at her obvious innocence he typed one handed.

No. Please tell me what most guys would've done? ;)

I'm glowering at you right now, you jerk.

What? I'm not the one who can't say the words tried to fuck my brains out.

A series of emojis were his reply, most of which relayed shock and anger.

Lol. Sorry. I was just messing with ya. Mostly it's cause of my mom. She taught me to help people in need if I can.

I'm really sorry she died. She sounds like a really good mom.

InuYasha stood and went to go put his empty ramen pot in the sink.

She was. I really miss her.

A loud kerthunk from upstairs made InuYasha sigh loudly.

I think my room mate just fell out of bed. Gotta go. TTYL?

Look forward to it. Hope your room mate is ok. :)

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, InuYasha took the stairs two at a time back up to his room. He was met with the sight of Miroku attempting to stand and falling right back down on his ass. Rolling his eyes, InuYasha went over and offered his hand to the fumbling man. Miroku looked up and grabbed the offered hand, pulling himself up slowly. He rubbed his head and yawned before asking, “What happened to you last night?”

InuYasha's face blushed slightly. “I, uh, was helpin' someone.”

Miroku took notice of his friend's flushed face and smirked. “Oh yeah? And how did you help them exactly?”

“She was drunk off her ass and alone. Didn't feel right leaving her.”

“Oh! A damsel in distress! Do tell, InuYasha.” Miroku plopped unceremoniously back down on his bed.

“Ain't nothin' to tell. I gave her water. We talked. Her friend showed up and they left. End of story.”

“Oh come now, InuYasha. Surely there is more to it than that?”

A long pause reverberated through the room before he received an answer. “Well, she did give me her number...”

A knowing smile spread across Miroku's face. “And does this damsel have a name?”

“Yeah.”

“Well? What is it?”

“Dunno.”

Miroku narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don't know, dumbass. She never told me.”

“You mean you talked to this girl for a period of time, and she gave you her number, but not her name?”

“Yep.”

Miroku sighed. “Well, I suppose you can always ask her later.”

“I guess... just seems kinda awkward now, though.”

Shaking his head at his friend, Miroku changed the subject. “I however, met an angel last night. She's the perfect woman, InuYasha.”

“You say that about every woman, pervert.”

“No, man. I mean it. She's beautiful. And sassy. And just... perfect.”

“If you say so. Look, I've gotta go to the library and get some books for class tomorrow. You cool?”

“Yeah, man. I already feel sober.”

“Suuuure ya do. Yell at Kuno if ya need anything.”

“Yep.” InuYasha snatched his bookbag from the floor and practically flew from the room.

This time of day on a Sunday it was easy for him to run through campus without getting weird looks from the other students, mostly because he might see one or two at most. His feet bounded easily off of the pavement as he ran towards the library. InuYasha loved running like this. It felt freeing. The only problem with it was sometimes he would reach his destination faster than he would have liked and had to end the fun. He really needed to find some sort of release.

Entering the library with a flourish, his eyes were drawn to the bulletin board to the right of the door. He was always on the lookout for odd jobs or something to help him earn some extra cash. It was difficult for him to find a real part time job with his... situation. Amber eyes scanned the many papers adorning the board. Some were looking for room mates, some were trying to sell books or furniture. The only help wanted thing he saw didn't interest him, but he knew someone it might. He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

Kagome had just returned from her own shower when she heard her phone ding. Scrubbing her hair with a towel with one hand, she lifted up the phone and looked at the message. She smiled to herself when she saw it was from Foxy. He had sent her a picture. She clicked on it to enlarge it.

“Help Wanted”

Part-time child care assistant

$12/hr -up to 20 hrs/wk

Students welcome

Will accommodate schedule

888-555-7685

Ask for Koga

Kagome's eyes widened in surprise. She had only briefly mentioned needing to find a part time job now that her money she had saved up over the summer was starting to become dangerously low. Not only had he remembered, he had even found something he thought she might enjoy.

How on earth did you remember?

I remember a lot. Saw it and thought of you is all. You wanna be a teacher right?

Kagome smiled down at her phone as she tossed both of her towels into the mesh hamper at the foot of her bed.

Very much. Thank you so much. This may just be a lifesaver.

Kagome dialed the number from the flyer. She bounced nervously on the balls of her feet waiting for an answer.

“Yoro North child care. Ayame speaking. How can I help you?”

“Yes, I saw a help wanted flyer. It said to ask for Koga?”

“Hold please.”

A few moments passed before a gruff male voice came to her ears.

“Koga here.”

“Yes, I saw the help wanted poster about the child care assistant...”

“Ah, yes. Are you available for an interview tomorrow afternoon?”

Smiling in spite of herself, Kagome nodded before realizing he couldn't see her through the phone.

“Y-yes. What time?”

“Three p.m.?”

“Absolutely. I'll be there. Thank you.”

“Wait, miss?”

“Y-yeah?”

A soft chuckle came through the receiver.

“Can I get your name for the appointment?”

“Oh! I'm so sorry. Kagome. Kagome Higurashi.”

“I look forward to meeting you miss Higurashi. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Kagome waited for the tell tale click on the other end before pulling the phone away from her ear. Unwilling to give up her excitement, she quickly texted the man who had made her so happy.

I have an interview tomorrow!

She got a series of thumbs up and happy face emoji's in response.

Next >

[ren-is-jers-husband-figure]

Anyway, here’s the fic for the start of the Mobster AU and how the kingpin of an Irish mob and a daughter of a famous politician have an 80’s movie style meet-cute. I don’t think I could have summed it up better than that.

(Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you/(Let's stop the world) You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time/(Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do/(Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you/The future's open wide.

If there was one thing that the political heiress to Kizami knew about political marriages, it was that the spouse who didn’t receive much gain was forced to leave a suffocating life. It still hurt that the man her parents had wed her to for these gains had rejected every notion of them ever trying to be anything like how a child dreamed of a married couple. It stung worse that he desired her adopted sister, those cruel eyes cutting through her to her core as his words provided the verbal equivalent of lemon juice in a paper cut. He was known for taking many women and men into his bed to claim their virginities, but her husband had deemed her as “Not worthy to share a house with me, let alone a night.” Perhaps the only thing that kept her from wanting to splatter her truth and brains from atop a skyscraper was the small group of people who worked at or went to the college she attended. Ah, and there also was her interest in theater.

Her junior squeezed her hand as they came to a dress and suit store in the mall, and rubbed her hand softly. “Senpai, would you like me to pick something nice for you here for the ball in a few weeks?” She asked, and the older girl hugged her junior tightly. “Senpai...”

She smiled at the bespectacled girl. “Thank you, Mash-chan. I’m glad I have you and Leo-chan and Mister Roman to trust. I just... can’t really trust my family anymore, my sister’s probably become a yanki, and pretty much only Merlin keeps me safe at my house. You have good taste, so I know you’ll pick something good!” She twirled a piece of her red hair on her finger as she followed her junior. Mash skimmed a few racks, and handed her senior a few dresses.

“I’ll be by the cash registers so you can show me, Jerilyn-Senpai,” Mash murmured reassuringly. She headed off to the cash registers while Jerilyn changed into one of the dresses in a dressing room.

Jerilyn later stepped out in a lilac dress, and tripped over her own high heeled shoes she was still trying to learn to walk in, stumbling forward into a stranger who caught her. “I-I’m really... sorry...?” She apologized, her voice trailing off as she caught the man’s face. “... Ah...”

The dark-haired man looked her over for a brief moment. “... You break any bones or twist your ankle?” He asked, a deep voice just barely above a murmur. She shook her head, and in spite of the red facial tattoos probably meant to be intimidating, concern colored his face. “... That’s good.” He helped her steady herself. “You... shouldn’t be careless. You might stumble into a worse person.”

She bowed her head apologetically. “I-I’m sorry, sir!” She looked up at him, and smiled sheepishly. “Thank... thank you... I’m usually less... scatter-brained... a-anyway, thank you, sir, I’m sorry for stumbling into you!”

He gave her a curt nod and observed her as she headed towards another girl. “... She was pretty cute,” he mused to himself as he made his way to the suit section. “Ah, right, can’t believe Cas is having me go to that dumbass party in his place. Dunno how he expects me to pretend to be him, thought my face was plastered on a buncha different shit.” He reached out and grabbed a hat and a tie. “I would rather wear what I am now, but that idiot likes to dress in outrageous shit, so...” A White-haired man waiting by the front of the store watched the exchange with amusement.

Later, Jerilyn returned to the mansion she, her bodyguard, and her adoptive sister lived in. “She’s not home yet, huh... what do you think, Merlin? The girl who can do as she likes but gets ignored, or the girl who receives attention at the cost of freedom... who suffers more?” She asked her bodyguard.

The white-haired man closed up a case for the gun he had on his side all day. “Depends, you know? My thinking is more colored by me knowing you since you were a baby, though, and having actually interacted with that asshole husband of yours, but you to me seem to suffer the most. You’ve always been good at hiding your pain, though, my dear niece.” He flicked her forehead, and she huffed at him. “I also personally hate being restricted, so that seems more painful. Anyway, that guy you bumped into at the dress store was pretty handsome!”

The heiress stared dumbfoundedly at Merlin. “... The guy with face tattoos? He... certainly was... do you know about him, Merlin?”

Merlin grabbed a white cat scurrying by and then picked up a little white dog, placing the dog in his charge’s lap. “Seems kinda familiar. Seems you’d have to run into him again for me to try to get a better glance. I have a feeling you two would hit it off.” He pinched her cheek and wiggled it as she glared at him. “I can set you up with a cute girl, too. Why should you be the only one miserable in your marriage when that bastard makes no secret of fucking everyone but you, that’s what I’m getting at, my dear. After all, a man who would rather have sex with the adoptive sister of the girl he married doesn’t deserve sympathy.”

She smiled wryly. “I almost half expected you to suggest relations between us, Uncle.”

“Oh, no, no, I’ve known you all your life, Jerilyn. Raising someone and then having sex with them, even a scoundrel like me draws the line somewhere! Plus, I know you don’t like my type.” His cat started attacking him. “Little bastard, I accidentally throw you out a window one time and you continue to murder me!! Piece of shit Cath Palug!!” She laughed as she hugged her dog to her chest. “This cat’s probably gonna be immortal so it can ruin my life. I hope I can find that guy again, or a cute girl if I can’t get him for you, dear.”

A few days later, Jerilyn was walking her dog with Merlin watching her back while under the guise of hitting on someone, and went to a dog park that he’d suggested as “kinda near a good mall, so you can take your little fluff ball there later.” She would have enjoyed seeing all the various dogs and marveled over their cuteness, had not her own dog started getting jealous every time she let out an “Awww.”

She rubbed her dog’s ears with a sigh. “Max, why are you like this,” she mumbled to him as he let out a huge sigh, and he jumped off her lap, dragging her along with him despite not even reaching her knee in height. “Maaaaaax...!” Her little dog barreled over to a peachy-colored poodle, and she took care to not slam into the poodle’s hoodie-wearing owner, and instead chose to fall on her behind. “Ow... I’m so sorry that my dog is... like that...”

The owner knelt down to check if she was hurt, and she gasped. “... You’re... that clumsy girl from the other day...” he remarked, and aided her to her feet. While she had opted for a bubblegum pink puffy dress-one of the few benefits of a rich husband who didn’t care about her meant that she could wear the cute Lolita dresses she’d longed for-he was wearing a hoodie, a shirt with an odd pattern on it, some basketball shorts, boots, and had on glasses, giving him a rather youthful appearance compared to the other day. “You seem to get into situations where you fall a lot.”

Jerilyn pouted. “I’m not trying to fall! This time, it was my Maltipoo, and last time, it was my tall heels!” He held back a snort and put his non-leashed hand on his face pensively. “Wh... what is it, Mister?” She asked, quickly realizing that this man was indeed her type, at least visually.

He grinned at her. “You’re amusing. I haven’t felt a sort of enjoyment like that in a while. It also doesn’t help me that whatever you called your dog sounds funny. My dog and yours seem to like each other, so... maybe they can enjoy each other’s company...”

Jerilyn looked down to see the two dogs looking like they wanted to chase each other. “S-sure... um... I’m Jerilyn Kizami.” The two unleashed their dogs, who proceeded to chase each other around their humans. She walked by the significantly taller man, who continued to gaze at her curiously.

After a few moments of walking, he leaned against a bench she sat on. “So you’re the daughter of that famous politician... you don’t seem like a liar type, though, that’s funny. Well, I’m Cu Chulainn. I do some bodyguard type stuff and sometimes do stuff for a casino. And I guess I got a dog, she followed me home once and I couldn’t ignore her despite her annoying me.”

Jerilyn twirled a piece of her red hair on her finger. “It was more a power move on my family’s part, I don’t even care much about that stuff. Your doggy is super cute, Mister Cu... My underclassman got me my little Max for me.... he likes to protect me and he thinks he’s big. He’s not as funny as my uncle’s cat, though. His cat hates him and attacks him whenever he’s in the room.”

“You don’t need to be formal and add a ‘Mister’. Cats aren’t my thing. Aren’t all little dogs like that, thinking they’re big?” Cu mused, and he slid a hand in his pocket after pushing his glasses up. “... You really seem to avoid talking about yourself.”

“... Well, yes... there isn’t much to discuss... I do some acting on small stages... I like cute things, mysteries, and... strange anime... I try to stay away from notice to avoid trouble...” She gazed down at her hands.

Cu took a seat on the bench with her. “Ain’t nothing wrong with wanting to live a quiet life. There’s something about not being self-absorbed and only discussing yourself that’s pleasant, a lot better than what I usually hear.” He caught her looking at him. “... What is it?”

Jerilyn smiled a smile at him that felt brilliant and melancholic in unison. “Thank you, Mister Cu...” He leaned in to brush a stray piece of her hair back, and she flinched. “S... sorry... I’m... not used to...”

Cu looked over her quietly. “... You’re too gentle to be like that... I’ll give you my number. If you ever need help and whoever regularly guards you can’t arrive in time, call me.” They briefly exchanged numbers, and his dog jumped into his lap. “You sure know how to kill a mood, don’t you, dog?”

She picked her own dog up and held him tightly. “Thank you, Mister Cu. I think, apart from my underclassman, you’re my first friend since I was put into that marriage...”

“F-friend?” He repeated. “I-I guess we are... that’s a first for me, someone who isn’t involved in the business... well, now it feels a little weird. Whatever you need, you can call or text me, my phone’s always on me.”

A few days later, Cu got a message while finishing a job up. “Hm, amusing,” he chuckled, and he dropped the bat in his hand to open the message up. The girl’s fun messages to him had become highlights of his day, and her sheltered viewpoint made for some fascinating tales she would send him. Earlier, she had sent a picture of her dog lying on his back while he was asleep with his legs in the air. This time, she had sent him a message about improv practice and asking what he was doing. He quickly replied, “Got some time off, so I went to do some batting practice. I hit it well each time.”

She sent a picture of herself smiling-most likely taken by that weird bodyguard of hers-and sent a message that said, “Sounds fun! Do you want to hang out?”

“After I get cleaned up. I have to get some stuff from my work. Want to meet up there?” He looked down at the broken computer on the floor. “That certainly ain’t gonna be salvageable,” he remarked. “... Same for you, too, bastard. You really musta pissed the lady off for her to call me in and silence you. Good thing I wore a suit from high school... I’ll get Billy to clean this up.”

The small time actress stepped out of the car in front of a casino, feeling self-conscious in the sweet lolita outfit she’d opted to wear. “I should’ve worn something more grown up,” she whined to herself, and asked a security guard where she would find Cu. The guard led her to what appeared to be the manager’s office, and her growing unease continued to gnaw at her. “... He’s the manager...? I thought he just worked at the casino,” she whispered to herself, and sat in the chair in front of the desk. She twirled her hair on her finger, nearly jumping out of the chair as the other door in the room opened.

Cu stepped out in a suit with his shirt undone, and a towel on his head. “Good grief, they couldn’t be any less discreet about sending them in...” he grumbled to himself, and then noticed the nervous actress in the room. “... I hope that we’re meeting to hang out and that you aren’t a surprise escort someone sent... not that I’d mind if you are...”

Jerilyn blushed, and flailed her arms to the point she fell out of the chair. “N-n.... not at all!! I-I’ve never even been intimate with anyone before!!” She protested, and her face grew more red as she realized his grin was focused on her. “I... I didn’t know you were the manager of the casino, Mister Cu!”

He helped her up, and she noted the pleasant rose scent from his hair. “‘Course I am. My teacher showed me how to run it, and I took over. It was a joke. What kind of uptown girl is a prostitute? Anyway, I got the stuff done, so do you want to come with me to a meeting I gotta attend?”

—————————————————-

Later that night, he came up to the gallery where this party-rather, a ball-was being held, glaring at the woman with a fur shawl trying to cling to him. “Aww, I knew you liked me, Cu, I’m so happy I could be your date!”

Cu grimaced at the woman and slapped her hand away. “I didn’t even invite you, Medb. And I still don’t like you, you just tagged along, and I don’t give a fuck anymore.” He looked around the place, and sighed. “What the hell do people do here, anyway? There ain’t even any art stuff in here.”

Medb snickered, and went to sit at a table. “Ah, yeah, you guys didn’t come from money. It’s just silent auctions of luxury stuff, pats on the backs, and that kind of stuff.”

[ninesoftkids]

ship ur mutuals with skidz! bringing this ask meme back cause y not! friendship! woo! 💓❤️💓💖💗💕💞❣️💗❤️💞❣️

Aayyy, I love these asks! Unfortunately, Stray Kids only has nine members :( so I’ve finished the rest of my mutuals with other idols I think fit! I hope that’s ok lmao. Right. (It’s gonna be quite long so i’m going to insert the line thingy) Here we gooooo :D

·        Woojin – Andy. Thefirst person to fight your corner, but sometimes they lack belief inthemselves. An essential part of our family, just like Woojin. One of the mostcaring people I’ve met, but also definitely one of the most chaoticallyencouraging people ever. Don’t let them eat the trees. @haknveons

·        Minho – Roxi. Two bubblypeople with serious visuals! But don’t let their cuteness fool you – there’sdemons hidden beneath the angel exteriors. Just as Roxi loves to both hurt andheal us with gorgeous pictures of our faves, Minho loves to tease. The push-and-pullrelationship. Roxi the Angel, and Minho the Devil. But he cares deeply, andwould always listen to whatever worries you had. You can expect cute good nightmessages and missed Skype calls that are made up with a thousand nose kisseswhen you finally see each other. The Opposites Attract Couple @lxx-fxlix

·        Chan – Syd. Bluntand honest, forthright with their beliefs, I think Chan and her would have amazingphilosophical arguments that would end in cuddles and Disney on the sofa whilethey throw popcorn at each other. Chan could teach you Korean, and you canteach him your slang :D Also that height difference would be cute af. @hwarang-my-loves

·        Hyunjin – Mer. Twoanimal lovers with visuals to merder. 😉 You share the cutestgiggles and are always down for pillow forts and cuddle piles. Fancy dinnerwho? Give you two pizza and some fluffy dogs and you’re good to go. You’d takethe best pictures of each other and you’d be the Aesthetic Couple @softstan4softboys

·        Changbin – Liz. Edgelord?Bitch, where? Like Changbin, your aesthetic is the opposite of your personality.You’re both whole dorks who love fiercely and are genuinely amazing people. Plus,I just really like imagining Changbin doing aegyo for the last Cadbury’schocolate or something and you judging him so hard, but doing the exact samething thirty seconds later. Softies. Both of you. The Tsundere Couple @darkaegyo

·        Jisung – Hae. Two kidswith unbelievable and unending energy. Plus the visuals? God damn you’d look sogood together. Another Aesthetic Couple. Give the two of you energy drinks andyou’ll be bouncing off the walls. Expect midnight runs to your local supermarket,throwing grapes into each others mouths, cute holiday vlogs where Jisung triesto befriend a squirrel and you throw peanuts at him. @squirrelboiii

·        Felix – Csen. He’dlove to watch you draw in the park while he kicks a ball around with the boysand pretend he’s not trying to figure out who you’re drawing – he hopes that it’shim. Teaching each other to cuss in other languages. He’d roll his eyeswhenever you scream over Namjoon or a Stray Kids Comeback but secretly love howexcited you get about things you love. The sarcasm also runs strong in thisship. Cute selfies returned with a ‘I did it better’. 100% down to prank eachother. The Friends to Lovers Trope we all adore. @lee-minho

·        Seungmin – Esther.People can’t decide if you’re the most savage or the most soft couple to exist.You both put so much thought into what you do for others and you’re so treasuredby everyone who gets to call you a friend. Birthdays are always anticipatedbecause you try to outdo each other in what presents you get each other. You metat a theme park, both the odd person in a group and having to sit next to eachother on a ride. When the ride ends you leave the others to find some ice creamand drinks – and it isn’t your fault that you forgot you arrived with otherpeople. The Meet-Cute we all deserve. @goddamngyu

·        Jeongin – Charz. Thelittle sister we all wish we had. You and Jeongin would be the cutest ok. You’dcompete at baking and force the boys to choose which is better without themknowing whose is whose (you’d both try to bribe the boys beforehand) You’ddance long into the night, not watching the time and just laughing at eachother’s attempts at popular dances. You were probably introduced through mutualfriends at a bonfire, and spent the night arguing over who had the best randomfacts. The Must Protect Couple @strayedtoofar

And now my other mutuals! :D

·        Tayla – KimSeokjin, BTS. Both visuals and Jin would help raise your self-confidence levels byalways taking pictures of you looking cute and bragging to the boys about you. Absolutedorks, with ridiculous nicknames to match. You steal his shirts and he pretendsnot to notice because his jumpers give you sweater paws and it’s adorable. But thosesweater paws come in handy when he tells a particularly bad pun and one lookfrom Yoongi has you whapping one sleeve across his arm, despite laughing atleast as hard as Jimin. Couple Goals. @mindieu

·        Ash – Lee Jihoon, SVT. You’re another Opposites Attract Couple, but both of you makeme want to cuddle the shit out of you. Both completely adorable, you probablymet like one of your AU’s :p A penpal thing that your friends mischievouslysigned you up for and it grew from there. You’ll send him Kpop memes and thoughhe won’t understand many of them, the second he sees his face he’ll be like ‘hey!It’s me!’ He hates aegyo but he’ll do it to make you smile, even at the expenseof his dignity in front of the other members. The Pen Pal trope that I am anabsolute sucker for. @lovelyhoonie

·        Stacia – KimTaehyung, BTS. Infectious laughter would follow you everywhere you went, and you’dalways be touching each other in some way – holding hands, an arm wrappedaround your waist, you name it. Also secretly evil – together with Jungkook,you prank the shit out of the other members and no one ever links it back toyou. And why would they? Both of you have Angel faces. The Trouble Maker Couple @softtrasshh

·        Jazz – Taeyong, NCT. Istill don’t know a lot about NCT, but I think your personalities would match sowell! Both fun loving and so caring and ready to give advice if people need it.You’d bond over your protective instincts and probably spend lots of time atsmall parties with close friends, laughing over good memories. @always-a-winwin

·        Ty – Jeongyeon,Twice. Neither of you could look like a mess if you tried. Goddess-tiervisuals, I swear. I also like to think that Jeongyeon sends really cutemessages to her members and always tries her best to make everyone feel better.And you’re literally the same, in that respect. You love angst so much, and youdon’t need a happy ending, so when she finishes a sad movie or novel, you’rethere to tease her back into laughter again. Neither of you are good for myheart and you fucking know it, you demons. Pet names between you range from ‘babygirl’ and ‘sweetheart’ to ‘nerd’ and ‘oi, you’. The Playful Relationship. @softspearb

·        Bri –  Kihyun, Monsta X. Outspoken about what youthink is right and wrong. Incredibly loyal and fun-loving. Always up for anadventure, and weekends will find you two trying to get lost in the city purelyfor the fun of it! The Adventurous Couple with so many stories to tell! @b-interest

·        K – Jennie, BlackPink.You seem kinda intimidating but you’re actual fluffballs. Always have eachothers backs, and spend your weekends at the park trying to get pictures of thecutest dog – loser has to buy ice cream. The Cute Couple @straychijeu

·        Roo – Jung Hoseok, BTS.You always try to see the best in people and in every situation. You’ve beenthrough difficult situations, but you smile your way through it with your headheld high and you always show concern for everyone else, sometimes forgettingthat you deserve to be cared for too!!!! @chanscurls

·        Tia – Jin Jin,Astro. Visuals for days and with smiles that make the sun jealous! I thinktogether you’d be the couple that always out and doing something. Trying a newrestaurant, racing each other down streets, going to karaoke rooms. Your IG isfull of, not necessarily aesthetic photos, but definitely short videos of JinJin doing something amusing and you laughing in the background, or you leaningon a fence pointing at ‘the view’ with a comment from him ‘you are the view’. TheCheesy Couple! @ ????

·        Flora – Youngjae,GOT7. Very affectionate and take the cutest selfies! If someone can’t find eitherof you, it’s because you’re hiding somewhere with ice cream and a movie. You loveteaching each other your own languages and laugh together over both yourattempts at the correct accents and pronunciation! @ ???

I cannot remember some of your URL’s so like…. can the rest of y’all link this to them bc i’m an awful human being lmao

[moreracquetball]

Excerpts from “I’d like to believe that I’d do it again”

Hey, so I wrote this Whizzvin College AU (which clocks at about +60k words), and I thought that maybe I could share some of my fave excerpts from this behemoth. It’s a little long, so apologies for that. BUT HEY, JUST WANNA THANK EVERYONE AGAIN FOR SUPPORTING THIS STORY AS SO MANY PEOPLE DID. IT MAKES ME HAPPY.

See, right now, Whizzer's supposed to be the nice guy—tell him that while he's flattered and all, getting into any sort of sexual relationship with him would be wrong and irresponsible. You have a girlfriend, he'd remind him, grasping his shoulder and giving him a significant look, after everything you've been through together, you can't do this to her. He's supposed to help him along this journey of sexual identity by being a simply platonic mentor who watches out for him and lets him discover his own sexuality in his own way and time. Whizzer's supposed to not take advantage of a sad, lonely man who has no idea what he wants.

But Whizzer is not a nice guy, which is why he disregards all these supposed-to’s and leans in, tightening his grip on Marvin’s thigh and giving him a wicked smile, “You and I are going to have so much fun together, Marvin."

“So I’m a game to you?” Marvin asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Everything’s a game to me.” Whizzer sighs and repositions his head, right over Marvin’s heart, “I’ve always sorta liked you, you know. You never backed down from me, even when I made you look like an idiot. You’ve caused me a lot of grief over the years, not gonna lie, but you’ve never bored me. Not yet, anyway.”

Marvin pauses, “I guess you want me to be flattered by that.”

“Feel however you want about it; it’s the truth,” Whizzer draws back and untangles himself from Marvin, prompting, “So same question about me then.”

Marvin stares hard at him for a moment too long, vague emotions flitting across his gaze. He seems conflicted as to what to say, what to admit. Finally, he settles on, “You’ve never bored me either.”

Not even thinking about it, Whizzer takes Marvin in his arms, burying a hand in the man's hair and letting his breathing even out. As he comes back to his senses, he begins to hear the faint hum of traffic from outside, a faint but constant reminder of the world around them.

Whizzer doesn't know what to do with this information, so he stays silent and lets Marvin lament. Instead, he simply watches as the man restlessly rolls his shoulders, the fluorescent lighting above making the sweat glisten on his toned skin. He's alluring in an abstract, unattainable way. No one has really caught him, Whizzer believes. Marvin has always held everyone at arm's reach, closing the shudders within his eyes every time that something becomes too close to home, too real. Whizzer used to contribute the distance as another sign of the man's pretension, as if he believed himself to be too high above everyone to give anyone leverage on him. But now that he's actually spent time with him—has gotten to know Marvin intimately in the dim lighting and tangled bedsheets—Whizzer thinks that maybe Marvin is just scared.

Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of giving someone a map of his weaknesses and trusting them to not destroy him in the end.

No one has really gotten to know the real Marvin. To his friends, Marvin is just the snobbish but harmless kid whose bark is bigger than his huge. To his teachers, Marvin is just a try-hard with so much potential that it seems to choke him at times. To his girlfriend, Marvin is the fulfillment of some unrealistic, romanticized fantasy. But to Whizzer, he's...

Whizzer isn't saying that he himself knows the real Marvin, but he thinks that maybe he's gotten the closest.

"Fuck off. Beyoncé is in Dreamgirls."

That night, Whizzer comes home early from a disappointing fuck and can't sleep, tossing and turning on his shitty mattress and kinda wishing he was in Marvin's comfortable bed. However, he imagines Trina to be in his place right now, tangled in his bedsheets and threading her fingers through his lover's hair. Wildly, he wonders if she could smell his cologne on the pillow just as he sometimes breathes in and gets a faint whiff of her perfume.

And Jesus Christ, Whizzer cannot be pining right now. He refuses to let himself. It's ridiculous. Whizzer does not chase after men—especially not closeted ones with pretty girlfriends and psychological complexes.

"Whizzer, I don't hate you because you're gay," Marvin declares incredulously, like the sheer thought of it baffles him, "I hate you because you're a pain in my ass. I mean, come on, I know I'm a dick, but give me a little credit here."

At his surprising response, Whizzer laughs. He laughs and laughs until his sides start hurting and he's panting for air. He looks over at Marvin and finds the man watching him, his face desperate and hungry—but for what, Whizzer's too drunk and upset to try to figure out.

Whizzer slaps the man on the back, breaking Marvin from his spell, "You're alright, Marvin. Fuck, sober me will hate me for saying it, but you're damn alright." And they stay like that for a little while longer, staring up at the stars in the night sky.

"Passion dies eventually," Whizzer tells him as they lay breathless in the aftermath, "Just because it's not today doesn't mean it can't be tomorrow."

Marvin shrugs, pulling Whizzer into his arms, "We'll deal with it tomorrow then." And it seems so simple right now between the two of them, but Charlotte's words of warning still echo in the back of his mind.

Whizzer admits quietly, "Marvin, that night...I think I wanted to kiss you, too." Marvin’s hold on him tightens, and his smile is blinding in the pale lighting of the room. And Whizzer knows that he is devouring this man and his bleeding heart, but he doesn’t think he could stop even if he tried.

He wonders if this is what love feels like.

“Oh well, I’m sorry that I disgust you so much,” Marvin grits out, mimicking his tone, “You know, for someone who fucks any guy that buys him a drink, you sure act like you have standards!”

Whizzer scoffs, his anger radiating off him like waves, “For someone who swears he’s not a fag, you sure take it up the ass like one!” The heat off of that barb seems to fly across the room and slap him in the face, causing Marvin to redden even further and throw his shoulders back. Whizzer feels dizzy with the satisfaction, can practically taste the blood in his mouth and wants more.

“For someone who likes to brag that he’s nothing like Trina,” Marvin says, his voice softer but no less cruel, “You sure bitch and whine like her.” 

It’s the way that she talks that unsettles Whizzer—the knowing lilt in her voice when she talks about Marvin. Whizzer has always liked to trivialize their relationship—to pretend that Trina is a nameless, robotic mannequin that Marvin simply dresses up and shows off—but it’s ignorant to believe that they aren’t close in at least some ways. Marvin hasn’t shared all of himself with Trina, but he’s given her breadcrumbs of himself—his past, his insecurities—to soothe her desire for any intimacy at all.

They’re sitting at a park bench and absently watching kids play on a swing set and dogs shitting in the bushes. They talk and talk about nothing that really matters, but the hum of organic conversation is soothing. Whizzer has almost lost in the chill that he’d developed earlier when Trina randomly blurts out, “Marvin doesn’t want kids.” It doesn’t take long to connect this line of thinking to the way her gaze has followed the children playing in the park.

Whizzer doesn’t find that hard to believe, “What about you?”

Trina hesitates, “I don’t know. I think I would be a terrible mother. But. Sometimes I think I would really love it, you know?”

Whizzer finds himself shrugging, “I think you’d be a good mom.”

Trina smiles, “Thank you. That means—a lot.”

“Marvin doesn’t like the thought of sharing,” Whizzer tells her, as if she doesn’t already know, “That’s why he doesn’t want kids. He’s very needy—of everyone.”

Trina scoffs, “Trust me, I know. You think being friends with him is bad? Just try dating the bastard.”

Whizzer is thankful that she’s too busy looking at a little toddler in pigtails to gauge his expression. He responds after a beat, his voice sounding stilted even to himself, “No, I don’t think I ever wanna do that.”

Her eyes mist over, a fond sense of wistfulness coating her voice, "We ended up talking for like four of five hours after that, even went to this shitty twenty-four hour diner when the library closed. He talked more, of course. I just listened, mesmerized by how he seemed to command every room he stepped in and the way he talked with his hands." She pauses and adds quietly, "And I wanted him to love me—desperately—so I changed my personality a little just so we could fit perfectly together." She lets out a self-deprecating laugh, "It sounds so stupid to admit it out loud. But I tend to always do that; I warp my own qualities so I can be whoever the other person wants me to be."

“What do you want me to say?” Marvin demands, pulling Whizzer closer and rubbing calming circles into his skin, “Why are you so mad at me, huh? You already know that she means nothing to me. I’ve always been honest with you, Whizzer—more than I have been with anyone. Ever.”

“He’s actually quite good at that,” Trina’s words suddenly come back to haunt him, “At making you believe that you’re the only one who understands him. It’s part of his charm.”

Whizzer is a terrible person. He’s always known this, deep down, but sometimes it hurts to be reminded of the fact.

He doesn’t really know what he was planning to accomplish by coming here. To give Trina some justice? To prove his own decency somehow? But that would require Whizzer to be selfless.

Whizzer kisses Marvin then, ending wherever that conversation was heading. He pushes Marvin back onto the couch and devours him, turning the man into a quivering puddle of shuddering sighs and moans.

Whizzer keeps having to make a choice. But, time and time again, he refuses to make the right one.

Marvin soon appears, hopping off the stage and walking over to him. Whizzer smirks and begins to offer him a harmless taunt about the tights that he wore, but then Marvin seizes his collar and pulls him into a kiss.

In public. With people still around.

Jesus Christ, has he lost his fucking mind?

"No one knows us around here," Marvin whispers against Whizzer's mouth, noticing that the other has been too stunned to reciprocate, "Relax." As if that broke the spell, Whizzer loops his arms around his waist and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. 

It's incredible, really. Whizzer had forgotten that he'd had pressure wedged in his chest until Marvin kisses him and suddenly releases it.

"What?" Marvin asks when they eventually pull away, eyeing his dazed expression.

Whizzer thinks about blowing it off, but the quiet words tumble out of his mouth anyway, "I think I'm happy."

Marvin smiles, suddenly looking as shy as the day that Whizzer had first introduced himself, "Me too." 

In bed that night, Marvin pushes him to lie flat on his stomach and starts pressing chaste kisses along his spine, mumbling words into his skin that Whizzer can't make out. It's so easy, Whizzer thinks amazedly, to be with him. How can it feel so complicated and fucked up one moment and then feel like this the next?

Whizzer tries not to think about it. He presses his face into the pillow and just enjoys the ride.

Marvin stiffens, "You didn't have to say it."

"Does it still bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me," He snaps, suddenly defensive, "I'm not like—that. I'm not like you."

Whizzer narrows his eyes, pushing out of Marvin's arms, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not gay," Marvin declares, "Whizzer, you know that." Whizzer knows that that's what Marvin likes to tell himself. It's never stung to hear him say it before though. Until right now.

Maybe because of last night. Maybe because Whizzer had thought that something—anything had changed.

But the air between them has shifted. It took Marvin essentially showing his hand to him to clear the dust from Whizzer’s eyes, but he gets it now. He understands the game that they’ve been playing has been revised; it’s become dirtier, more calculated.

He’s more aware of Marvin now—of the mind games that transcend verbal arguments and offhanded gestures. As if things weren’t already complicated before, both men have now gone straight-up nuclear—so much so that they’ve convinced each other that every word and gesture is a tool to work against the other, is a ploy for domination, is a zero-sum game with nothing off-limits and everything to lose.

It’s fucked up. Whizzer loves in a sick sort of way that has his heart breaking but his mouth begging for more.

Whizzer doesn’t want a fairytale. He doesn’t want glass slippers or talking horses or handsome princes telling him what to do. Whizzer wants passion and bitter fights and rough sex and the taste of heartbreak and loneliness on his tongue. He wants as little as possible, just enough to get his rocks off.

Marvin doesn’t want a trainwreck. He doesn’t want the harsh collision and crushing of bones and shrapnel to the heart. Marvin wants romance and submission and doe-eyed devotion and the cult of domesticity. He wants more, enough to make him choke on it.

Marvin kisses him deliberately, making it clear that this conversation is over.

But the tension hasn’t left his body, so Whizzer pulls back and clarifies, “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Marvin shakes his head, pulling at Whizzer’s shirt, “Help me forget.”

Whizzer doesn’t fight him on this. He knows when to pick his battles.

“What can I say? I have a way with men,” Whizzer says jovially, tasting acid in his mouth when he adds pointedly, “Even the straight ones.” Trina and Whizzer make eye contact, and he sees the real question she desperately wants to ask in her eyes. Why you? What makes you better than me?

Everything, he wants to tell her, an obnoxious sense of pride rising in his throat, everything.

At times like these, their afternoon together seems like such a distant memory. After all, they do share a bed with the same man, and nothing is more polarizing than the desire for attention and the yearning for…for an unspeakable thing. For a four letter word that Whizzer refuses to name.

Marvin tilts his head back and ignores the rising resentments, seemingly tired of more than just his parents at the moment.

"And hey," Whizzer prompts before the other man can hang up, "I just want to remind you...You don't have to change for them, you know? If they don't like you—the real you, they can piss off. You shouldn't have to—you know, wear this mask all the time and put up this huge wall around yourself. It'll get lonely; trust me. I mean, it already is, isn't it?"

There's a pause of silence before Marvin says quietly, "I told you. It's not that easy."

Whizzer sighs, resigned, "Goodnight, Marvin." After he hangs up, he stretches out on his shitty mattress and looks up at his ceiling fan, letting the blur of motion lull him into sleep.

"He seems to know his way around here quite well." Marvin's mother makes the offhanded comment, and it seems harmless enough but Marvin flinches like she's just slapped him.

"We're friends." Marvin explains tightly as he and Whizzer finally make eye contact. Taking one look at the man, Whizzer knows that he didn't take his advice to heart. Marvin has transformed back into his former shell of a self, stapled this ill-fitted persona to his skin as he continually tries to hide the cracks in the façade. Whizzer has spent the last several months mapping each nook and crevice on this man's body, but at this very moment, Marvin might as well be a stranger to him.

Whizzer adopts a chill he just can't shake throughout the entire meal.

Whizzer feels like a passive observer as he watches the dynamics of those around him. Marvin's parents dote on Trina, every word directed in her direction being some form of glowing compliment. By contrast, they are curt and strangely formal with their own son. His mother makes mere small talk with him that reminds Whizzer of how one talks to a stranger. Meanwhile, his father simply stares down at his untouched plate more often than not, his mind far away from here.

Marvin smiles and charms and lies his way throughout the meal, readily putting on this mask that his parents have forged for him. He pretends to be enraptured by Trina and plays along with his mother's unrealistic envision of his future. And he fits into this role of obedient son and charming boyfriend so effortlessly, Whizzer starts to wonder if Marvin could theoretically put up this act for the rest of his life. But then he notices the bags under Marvin's eyes, the edge in every single one of his easy smiles, the tension in his squared shoulders. How exhausting it must be, he quietly marvels, to be so aware and calculated in your every word and movement.

Sensing he's crossed a line, Marvin softens, but he doesn't apologize. He never apologizes. Even when he knows he’s wrong.

It takes a few seconds for Whizzer to regain control of his voice, but when he does, he makes sure it sounds as cold and brittle as ice, "You think you're so much better than me, don't you? You're so much smarter than me, Marvin. You're so much more successful than me, Marvin. You're so superior at everything," He takes a step closer, bring their chests close together, "But you get on your knees for me again and again. You beg for it time after time—why is that, I wonder?” Marvin’s muscles clench tighter and tighter, but he holds his tongue. Whizzer presses on, wanting something—anything at all that proves he’s gotten under his skin, “And how would Mommy and Daddy react if they saw you like that, huh? Do you think they’d believe me if I told them all about it?" He raises his voice to a yell, "Hey Everybody, Marvin is a fa—"

Finally, Marvin shoves Whizzer against the wall, slapping a firm hand over his mouth. Pain erupts in Whizzer's back, but he barely registers the sting through his fury. He removes the hand as soon as Whizzer cuts off, but he keeps their bodies pinned together. With a pang, he’s reminded of that first time in the small closet at a stranger’s house. It seems like that happened an entire lifetime ago, though he knows it hasn’t even been a year.

Marvin's face is still just inches away from his, and Whizzer feels fear beginning to coil in his stomach, "Enough." 

"Or what?" Whizzer taunts in a low voice, and he wants him to hit him. He wants the sting of a busted lip, needs the distraction to the turmoil brewing in his chest. But Marvin doesn't look as angry as Whizzer feels; he seems heartbroken at Whizzer's words, as if something actually brought the High and Mighty Marvin down a peg. And so Whizzer breaks their silent truce on to never speak of what’s going on between them, but he makes a pointed decision. He lies.

"You think I give a damn about you?" Whizzer whispers, and Marvin takes his words like a punch in the gut, "You're just an easy fuck, Marvin. That's all you are to me. We aren't boyfriends. We aren't even close."

"You mean nothing to me." 

Marvin nods, letting the words wash over him. He straightens his posture, all previous emotions of fury and heartbreak wiped from his face. He's slipped the mask back on. Good, Whizzer thinks to himself, it suits him.

“Stop being petty,” Whizzer snaps, walking towards him and crowding him against the wall of the hallway, “You know that I—“ The words get caught in his throat, so he settles for something easier, “You know that you mean something to me.” He doesn’t say it, but Marvin hears it all the same.

A few hours later, as they lie cramped and entangled on Marvin's shitty couch, naked and sated, they don't talk about what happened before or what will happen later. Maybe they should—after all, several wounds are currently left untreated, exposed to viscous infection that could occur any time in the form of a careless word or barbed insinuation—but they're young and mean and they don't give a flying fuck about the problems that lie just on the horizon. Marvin keeps trying to make him laugh—desperately—and Whizzer refuses to give him the satisfaction, biting his lip to keep the treacherous snickers at bay.

And it isn't perfect, Whizzer thinks as he tries to smother his laughter into Marvin's mussed hair, but right now, it's enough.

Whizzer notices that Trina's hand has entangled in Marvin's hair.

"Yeah," Whizzer agrees faintly, the jealousy choking him, "Let's enjoy it while it lasts."

I love you.

It means nothing to Marvin. It means everything to Trina. 

I love you.

To Whizzer, those words have always been an excuse for mistreatment or a ploy for sex. It's always been his parents' "I'm justifying being the cause of your unhappiness" or one of his lover's "Please give me head later." It's never just I love you. It's always had a double meaning. It's always had strings attached.

The words are never meaningless per se, Whizzer rationalizes; they just never only carry the surface implication.

I love you.

Marvin tells Trina this, but what he’s really saying is a plea for submission, for her to stick her head in the sand and never question him. It's a ploy. It's a deceit. It's a breadcrumb.

I love you.

Sometimes Whizzer imagines Marvin saying those words to him—perhaps mid-sex, or huddled beneath the covers and trying to ignore the rising sun, or in the middle of an argument when Marvin needs a trump card.

Whizzer ponders just what his reaction would be. Would it mean anything to Whizzer? Would Marvin ever mean it in the first place?

"I love you." Whizzer whispers once, alone in his apartment.

The words still feel hollow to him—be it in his mind or mouth.

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe I fell in love with someone like you." As soon as the exasperated words fly out of Marvin's mouth, the man stiffens in shock and horror (Whizzer can't tell if it's being feigned, if this is just one of those theatre workshop activities that he's been obnoxiously doing all the time).

Up until that point, Whizzer had been pretty sure that he knew just how those words would affect him. They would hardly even register, he had reasoned. Whizzer would be mindful of the mind games that Marvin plays, and he would be reminded of the ease that Marvin spouts off those words to Trina, and he would be able to rationally see it as the bullshit that it is. He would be calm and indifferent and unwavering, he had imagined.

He was wrong.

Whizzer's eyes widen, and his mouth goes dry, and his chest does something a little funny that makes his breathing turn stilted. And he feels like his heart is devouring every sense of rational thought. 

"...Whizzer, I love you." Whizzer rips off Marvin's belt and tears open his shirt.

"Don't say it," Whizzer whispers harshly, threading his hands through Marvin's hair and pulling Marvin's head so their mouths are two little words apart, "Prove it."

"And she deserves more," Marvin continues after a pause, "She deserves someone who doesn't tune her out when she starts talking for more than five minutes and likes sleeping next to her and holds her hand when she's sad—"

Whizzer interjects, supplying, "Someone who loves her."

"I do love her." Marvin protests sharply, his gaze snapping into focus. He's on the defensive now, as if he's still trying to cling to that lie as much as Trina. But Whizzer gives him a pointed, knowing look, and after a beat, Marvin softens.

He amends roughly, "Well, I care about her."

"You know that's not the same thing."

"Yeah," Marvin looks at Whizzer, echoing faintly, "I think I’ve realized that now."

Whizzer snorts, "Always the idealist."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting it all," Marvin tells him, leaning in for a kiss, "As long as you can actually achieve it. And I can."

"He told me he loves me last night," Whizzer confesses to her, the words buzzing on his tongue, "He's breaking up with Trina today."

Cordelia watches him, "And how do you feel about all of that?"

Whizzer keeps his eyes on the endless blue above him, smiling in a way that hurts his face, "Happy."

"She's pregnant." Marvin says, measured and neutral.

A lot of things happen at once.

Charlotte sucks in a surprised breath, and Mendel drops the beer that he’d been holding, and Cordelia beams at Trina but squeezes Whizzer's hand tightly, and Whizzer—

For Whizzer, the entire room is spinning. He's surprised that he doesn't throw up.

"Oh." He exclaims faintly, more breath than word.

At that moment, Whizzer and Trina make eye contact, and he wildly expects a gloating expression on her face. After all, she's won, hasn't she? It's over. She's got him beat.

But there is no pride or boast in her gaze. Trina looks at him, and she smiles, and she just looks so genuinely happy. And it makes Whizzer feel disgusted with himself—for that day in the park, for sleeping with her boyfriend, for hating her.

"I'm happy for you." Whizzer tells her, holding her gaze. He doesn't mean it. From the way her smile dims, Whizzer thinks that she kinda knows that.

"You're going to have a family," Whizzer rationalizes, "I don't exist in that world."

"You exist in my world," Marvin says tightly, "That will never change."

In his dream, nothing is awful. He's in a crowded ballroom, feeling tipsy and happy and in love. Across the room, he spies Cordelia and Charlotte, getting drunk on champagne and giggling into each others’ ears. A few feet away from the two girls are Trina and Mendel, holding each other tight as they dance to the melodic melody echoing throughout the hall. Trina looks beautiful and happy in the arms of a man who loves her. Whizzer watches his friends laugh and fall in love, and he's struck with a sense of deep contentment. In his dream, he's happy.

Sturdy arms wrap around his torso, pulling him into an embrace from behind. Whizzer relaxes against Marvin, turning his head so the man can see the unadulterated adoration on his face.

"I love you." Marvin says, and it is beautiful in its offhanded nature. It means nothing and everything all at once.

"I love you, too." Whizzer admits finally, his voice aching with the honesty of it.

When he wakes up, Whizzer is alone in a cold bed.

"You know you can go to somebody whose actual job that is, right?" Whizzer says bluntly, looking down to fiddle with his camera so he won't see Trina's smile dim.

"Well, yes, I know," She admits slowly, caught off guard by his defensiveness, "But I just thought that it would be more special. You know, to be taken by a friend."

Friend. She thinks that they're friends. Well, that’s just—spectacular.

Whizzer nods, swallowing down the lump in his throat, "You're going to marry him." It isn't a question, so he doesn't phrase it like one. Of course Trina will say yes—because she's young and she wants so desperately to pretend that he loves her and she's always wanted the All-American, tight-knit family. 

No, if he were to ask a question, it would be: He's going to marry you?

But that shouldn't be a surprise either. Of course Marvin will propose—because he's gay and he wants so desperately to pretend that he isn't and he's always wanted the All-American, tight-knit family.

Maybe they are perfectly suited together; they're both so willing to play into delusions and pretend that they're happy and everything happens for a reason and a marriage will somehow make things better.

At this point, Marvin and Trina have almost finished digging their own graves, but Whizzer himself still hasn’t broken the ground yet. Right now, he's still holding the shovel, trying to decide if it's all worth it, if he's all worth it.

"Okay." Whizzer says faintly, "I'll take the picture."

Trina hugs him, and even though her grip is light and her body is soft, Whizzer feels like he's being crushed.

This picture is a lot better, though Marvin looks into the camera with a pained smile and Trina is smiling like she does realize that she's delivering herself into a devouring mouth but just can't seem to help herself.

Whizzer makes sure to give her a look of solidarity; he knows the feeling.

Marvin huffs as he walks in, his back facing Whizzer, "It's never meaningless when we do it."

"Speak for yourself."

The muscles in Marvin's back tense, but he doesn't take the bait, "Why didn't you answer me?"

"Because I didn't want to," Whizzer says as he closes the door, sneering, "Is that alright with you? After all, my needs are always subservient to yours, aren’t they?”

"Stop it," Marvin commands, like Whizzer's some lapdog, "I don't want to fight right now."

"Why is it always about what you want, huh?" Whizzer demands, "I'm not just some mindless sex doll, Marvin. I have wants and needs, too."

"I know that," Marvin snaps, turning around to face him, "Of course I know that. You're Whizzer. I love you."

"You're Trina," The memory of Marvin's words hits him like a truck, "I love you."

"Trina was right,” Whizzer says coldly, “You really need to get new material." And the words are so meaningless to Marvin, he doesn't even seem to know what Whizzer is referring to.

"You're ruining her life. You're ruining your life." And once Whizzer has started, he just can't stop. Anger and frustration leak into his calculated voice, thickening it to the point of almost incoherency, "You're ruining the baby's life. You're ruining my life.” He hates pretending that it doesn’t bother him, that nothing has changed, that Whizzer can somehow fit into that family portrait. Because it does bother him and everything has changed and Whizzer doesn’t want to waste his life shadowing somebody else’s family and being fed breadcrumbs by a man too cowardly to be honest about what he wants.

Whizzer is trembling now, admissions and anxieties rising in his throat and gagging him.

But Marvin is perfectly composed, his eyes narrowed and mouth fixed in a sneer.

"How am I ruining your life," He asks sharply, "When apparently you don't love me anyway?" Whizzer doesn't answer. He can't.

"What, you want me to feel sorry for you?" Whizzer scoffs, his voice cold, brittle, ”Fuck you, Marvin. That's just another bullshit excuse. Everyone always has a choice. You're just making the wrong one and trying to blame it on the invisible gun to your head." 

Marvin shrugs, Whizzer’s justifications lost on him, “I only play games that I know I'll win.”

“We both know that that’s not true.” Whizzer points out, smiling, “You’re playing one with me right now.” 

“I said that you mean something to me because it’s the truth,” He scoffs, overwhelming disgusted with the both of them, “But that isn’t good enough for you, is it? You want to mean everything to me. But that will never happen.”

“I did all those things because I’m in love with you,” Marvin says after a long, agonizing pause, unflinching, “And you’re trying to fault me for that? For being nice to you and hoping against hope that you could ever learn to love me back? You call me selfish? You’re the one who’s been using how I feel to get yourself off. You’re the one who constantly reminds me that I am one of a dozen others. You’re the one who took advantage of a closeted guy who had his entire life figured out and ruined everything because you could—because you were bored.

“And now you get pissed at me for trying to get my shit together and be there for the woman who is having my child. What did you expect for me to do? Break up with her anyway so I could still just be one of your many booty-calls?” He scoffs, shrugging, “Maybe I am selfish, but at least I’m honest about it. You want to crucify me for wanting to have it all while you’re trying to pull the same shit by wanting me to abandon my kid and girlfriend when you won’t even tell me that you love me!”

“So, if I did choose you,” Marvin challenges, “Would you choose me? Would you stop fucking other guys and make me dinner and kiss me goodnight and tell me that you love me?”

“No.” It’s honest—brutally so. And it makes Whizzer so shocked at himself, has him forgetting his plan and looking up at Marvin.

Marvin nods like he expected that answer, but he looks like Whizzer broke his heart by confirming it.

“Trina does all those things for me,” He says tightly, “Because she loves me.”

Whizzer does things for him, too. He cooks for him and always gives him his honest opinion and calls Marvin out on his bullshit and challenges him to be better and encourages him to follow his stupid dream of theater and tries to get him to accept himself for who he is.

He does those things for him. Because he loves him.

"I'd love to meet them," Mr. Total-Dick-Face looks at the picture again, "To hear the rest of their story—the things that not even images can show." No, you really don't want to know. 

Because it's a sad story—the kind that keeps getting bad and never gets any better; the kind that only has a few moments of happiness and lightheartedness but is overall fucking awful; the kind that no one really gets a happy ending.

And Whizzer wants to go back to how things were before—when it was just fun, with mouths pressed against inner thighs and secret glances when out with friends and arguing for the sake of getting the other to take his pants off. 

But no, no, no, Whizzer wants to go back to how things were before even that—when they hated each other and it seemed like it would always stay that way, with mouths shooting off snappy retorts and pointed glares when out with friends and arguing just for the sake of hearing themselves talk.

Whizzer wishes that Marvin had never kissed him that day. He wishes that he himself could have been smart and kind enough to not kiss Marvin back.

But Whizzer doesn't dwell on past decisions and wrong choices. He refuses to lament on the past and instead keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon ahead.

Because he'll never be able to fix his mistakes but he can always run away from them.

Whizzer always walks away. And he never looks back.

"Look, I just don't care anymore." Whizzer tells them lowly, keeping his gaze trained on his beer bottle, "About any of it." He says those words with a strange amount of confidence for a man who had to drag himself out of bed and then had a full-fledged break down in the shower this morning.

"Did he cry?" Whizzer blurts out, "Over me?"

"Yes. And it was not a pretty sight," Charlotte hits his arm, "Stop smiling."

"I'm not." He lies stubbornly, turning away from her.

Though Marvin looks away immediately, Trina doesn't stop staring at it for a long time.

"That's not the picture you gave us." She says faintly, her tone and face unreadable. Her eyes are glued to the photograph, flickering from her own terrified face to Marvin's lovesick gaze directed at someone else.

"I took two, remember?" Whizzer says, trying to pawn off any of the tension, "I hope you don't mind." Trina finally looks at him then, and she knows. She finally knows. Whizzer can see it in her face.

Every single one of them wait for her reaction with baited breath.

"Of course I don't," Trina says, steeling her face and voice as her grip on Marvin's arm tightens, "It's beautiful. It shows the beginning of our family. Wouldn't you agree, Marv?" She takes the easy way out, pleading ignorance. For the sake of her relationship. For the sake of her kid. For the sake of her future.

Whizzer is disappointed in her.

"Yes," Marvin is stunned, looking as if he was gearing up to be defensive, “Baby, you look, uh, very beautiful in it. Glowing, even." At the compliment, Trina looks like she's trying very hard not to cry. She kisses Marvin then, slow and sweet and not letting him pull away. And Whizzer watches the two of them, like always. He's the dark cloud over them, the shadow, the observer, the open secret.

"Passion dies and love fades," Whizzer tells him roughly, "It's all just chemicals, isn't it? Come on; Don't be such a fucking romantic."

"You know, I always thought we had nothing in common," Mendel muses bitterly, smiling sadly at him, "But you're pathetic. Just like me."

The insult surprises him, coming from Mendel. Rather than lashing out, Whizzer just looks at him and doesn't say anything for a long time.

"Why did you come out here?" Whizzer asks, "Hoping for a quick screw in the back of an alley?”

"I don't know," Marvin admits quietly, dropping the coyness, "I don't know what I want."

"Stop it. You know what you want," Whizzer scoffs, "You want it all."

Marvin looks away, doesn't deny it. 

He's giving Whizzer a choice, like he always does. Because Whizzer has always said yes. Because Whizzer has always put himself before anyone else. Because Marvin thinks that Whizzer never changes either.

And before this very moment, Whizzer had thought all those things too.

Right now, Whizzer has a choice. And for the first time, he makes the right one.

When Whizzer turns around, he reflexively snaps a picture of him, desperate to suspend this moment in time.

And Whizzer wants to kiss him—one last time. He wants to close his eyes and lick his lips and sigh into his mouth and breathe him in. He wants to memorize the feeling that this man has given him, the love and ache of it all.

He doesn't kiss him. He just sticks out his hand for him to shake.

And he keeps his gaze on the horizon. And he doesn't look back.

His gaze lingers when he gets to one of the nicer apartment buildings, a faint echo of pain igniting in his chest. All of a sudden, he's reminded of slamming doors and yelling in elevators and giggling in the soft glow of the refrigerator light and whispering half-hearted promises in between ragged breaths and moans.

Whizzer wonders if Marvin's old apartment is the same as he remembers it—spacious and messy; a safe haven and a battleground.

Shaking himself, Whizzer continues walking, keeping his gaze stubbornly fixed on the horizon. He doesn't look back at the building. 

But there's a part of him that wants too. Maybe there always will be.

Youth. Ignorance. Selfishness. Whizzer doesn't miss any of it as much as he once believed he would.

"Take a breath and let it out, and swing." Jason finishes, smiling a little, "Thanks, Whizzer." And there's something about that lopsided smile and tilt of the head in that very moment—something that knocks all the air of Whizzer's lungs.

Jason's smile fades, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Whizzer says quickly, looking away, "You just, uh, reminded me of someone." And now that he sees it, he can't unsee it. The wavy hair, the brown eyes, the crooked smile...

“And you didn’t have another job lined up before you quit?” Charlotte asks, ever the practical one.

Whizzer shrugs, “It was kinda like an impulse decision. Like, I was in Ohio and it sucked, and I just didn’t want to be there anymore.”

Cordelia hits him on the arm, “Don’t blame this on Ohio.”

Whizzer rolls his eyes, exclaiming to get a rise out of her, “Fuck Ohio.”

New York hasn’t changed, but Marvin has.

“I divorced her.”

Whizzer stares at him, bewildered at the stranger before him, “Why would you do that?”

“Whizzer, I don’t know if you know this,” Marvin says calmly, straight-faced with zero inflection, “But I’m really fucking gay.”

Marvin reaches out again, threading his hand through Whizzer’s hair and messing up the hour worth of hair products that Whizzer dedicated to make it look just right. Whizzer tries to scold him and push him away, but right now the only thing he’s accomplishing is maintaining measured breathing. As Whizzer and Marvin lock eyes, he knows that they’re both thinking of the same thing—of Marvin pulling Whizzer’s hair all those times during sex, of holding him in place by his hair so Marvin can press tender, hurried kisses to his exposed neck and jawline.

Marvin pulls a little, and Whizzer bites his lip.

“Not wearing a wig, either,” Marvin comments lowly, smiling filthily, “Jesus, Whizzer, would it have killed you to gain a few pounds or lose some hair? You make the rest of us look so old.”

“Jesus, Marv, you’re at a little league game,” Trina scolds, snapping the two men out of their daze, “Keep it in your pants.”

Whizzer looks over at Marvin, who’s watching Whizzer with stars in his eyes.

“What?” He demands, defensive.

“You’re incredible,” He murmurs, almost absently to himself, “You know that?”

At least one thing hasn’t changed about Marvin.

He’s still very, very charming.

It’s like the universe is trying to get him laid. And Whizzer can’t just not do what the universe so clearly wants him to do:

Bone Marvin. The universe totally wants Whizzer to bone Marvin.

“I knew your dad,” Whizzer elaborates, not missing the slight trace of panic on Marvin’s face at the mention of the past, “We went to college together, actually.”

Jason just makes a lighthearted Hmpf, the significance of that time lost on him.

When Marvin finally comes back, Whizzer wastes no time, crowding him against the door and kissing him.

Marvin’s mouth is soft and warm, and just one kiss drives a chill from Whizzer’s bones that’s been there since he walked out of his boss’s office with his head held high and heart racing.

Whizzer kisses him once, chastely, before backing away.

Marvin’s eyes have already fallen shut, and his lips try to chase after Whizzer’s as he pulls away.

“What?” Marvin demands softly, opening his eyes again to stare mystically at him, “What’s wrong?”

It all feels so familiar, so second-nature. Whizzer remembers kissing him like that dozens of times before, whether to shut up his latest arrogant rant or to communicate feelings that he couldn’t with words.

He thought that it’d feel different—that it’d be different. But it’s not. It’s the exact same.

Whizzer doesn’t know whether to find that relieving or troubling.

Whizzer kisses him again, rougher this time—with more desperation and teeth. Marvin buckles against him, letting out a low, guttural groan like a wounded animal. He slips his hands around Whizzer’s waist and grabs his ass, and it’s good—fuck, it’s really good. Whizzer doesn’t so much as kiss him as devour him, his kisses quick and biting and prompting shaky, quivering noises to release from Marvin’s mouth.

Marvin breaks the kiss and turns his face to the crook of Whizzer’s neck, retracting one hand from the other’s ass to slip it down the front of Whizzer’s pants. When he touches him, Whizzer makes a sound so shameless and dirty, it makes Marvin flush even redder.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Marvin keeps repeating, laughing breathlessly, “I’ve missed that sound.” He rotates his wrist and makes Whizzer make it again.

“Take me to bed.” Whizzer says, pleads actually, “Marvin, come on. Take me to bed and fuck me.”

At his demand, Marvin shudders, making a gasping sort of sound almost like he’s drowning.

“Fuck yeah. Okay,” He says shakily as Whizzer impatiently starts tugging Marvin’s pants down, the hunger between them so palpable, it’s all that they can taste, “Okay.”

He hears Cordelia’s phone ring in the kitchen, followed by the blonde’s panicked voice, “It’s Marvin.”

“Answer it.” Charlotte instructs.

“Cordelia, don’t you dare!” Whizzer yells.

The two lock eyes for a split second before both bolt to the kitchen.

As they bust through the door, Cordelia already has the phone pressed to her ear, “Oh, hey, Marv. What’s up?” A pause, and then her gaze flickers to Whizzer, “You’re asking if Whizzer is here?”

Whizzer hurriedly, enthusiastically mouths the word No, No, No, No, No…

“You know,” Cordelia says nervously, biting her lip, “He actually just walked in.”

Whizzer makes an audible noise of surprise and betrayal.

Whizzer sighs, “Look, Marvin, what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Marvin repeats incredulously, “I want you, Asshole.”

It’s a sucker punch to the gut, causes Whizzer’s heart to jump to his throat.

He stutters out, “Will you settle for a cup of coffee instead?”

"During all those years,” Marvin asks suddenly, "Did you ever think of me?" It seems off-subject, but really, maybe it isn't. Because the answer seems important to Marvin, even though it won't change anything.

Whizzer pauses, biting his lip, “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Marvin says quietly, “I thought about you all the time.”

"What else is there to do?" Marvin demands, and well, Whizzer can't say what he would rather do, right? Just friends may be able to 'compliment each other on their best features,' but they probably can't freely admit, I would really like you to fuck me so hard, I lose my voice from screaming your name.

Marvin huffs a laugh, and because he still never knows when to stop and drop something, he asks, "What's your type then?" It's a stupid, pointless question to ask, and it just seems weirdly uncalled for, given their history and all that Marvin already knows about Whizzer. Marvin knows his type already, but he still asks it. Because he's fishing for a certain answer, one that would assure him that Whizzer is just as silently miserable at being just friends as Marvin noticeably is.

And Whizzer could answer this question in many ways—the slutty any man who buys me a drink; or the coy men who have cruel smiles and nice hands; or the honest the unattainable sort of men; or the pointed the type that lets you hold them and kiss them but never keep them; the type that will always say that they love you and they may very well even mean it, but they'll never be willing to meet you halfway.

Whizzer calmly uncovers his face, calmly sits up, and uncalmly says, "Come again?"

Living with Marvin, sharing a home with Marvin, is easy. They eat breakfast and dinner together, and they watch shitty cable television in the evening, and they bicker about weird domestic things like the electricity bill (Whizzer’s fault) and the mysterious dent in the living room wall (Marvin’s fault), and they entertain Jason on the weekends, and it’s all just so—

Domestic. So disgustingly, repellently, achingly domestic.

“So, you two were good friends?” Jason suddenly asks, causing both men to remember themselves and break eye contact. Whizzer notices that Jason is paying full attention to them now, his phone laying forgotten on the table as he stares pointedly at the two men sitting across from him.

“No, I don’t think we were,” Marvin says honestly after a beat, “That’s what caused the problem.”

And this is why Whizzer has to always look toward the horizon—because looking back leads to nostalgia and sadness and the overwhelming desire to recapture the past.

“You’ve been testing me,” Marvin says, oddly sounding both sad and hateful, “You don’t think I realized that? You want me to prove this preconception in your head that you’ve built up for years. You think everyone else is capable of change except me.”

Whizzer stays silent, not answering. Marvin looks a little broken.

"Then what are you still doing here?"  He demands roughly.

Seeing him shattered like that, it takes awhile before Whizzer can find his voice, and even when he does, it’s small and broken, "Maybe I want you to prove me wrong."

"Bullshit. I've been proving you wrong," Marvin points out, "You want me to prove you right."

"Whizzer, I already told you," Marvin says, horrifyingly calm, "I’m too old to be chasing after people who only want to be chased and not caught." Whizzer belatedly places the vague look on Marvin’s face.

It is one of a man who is ready to let go.

Gripped with shock and fear and denial, Whizzer doesn't respond and walks out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Marvin doesn't ask him to wait, to stop, to stay. 

As he walks away, Whizzer doesn’t look at the horizon. With each step, he keeps stopping and turning his head and looking back, expecting Marvin to still—without fail—to chase after him.

But the only thing chasing him is the past, and Whizzer refuses to let that actually catch up with him.

"You've grown meaner." Whizzer notes idly, an undercurrent of appreciation for her in his voice.

"I've had to." Trina says vaguely. 

"Trina, I'm really sor—"

"Don’t. Just—don’t. I don't need your late, guilt-tripped apology." Trina scoffs, exasperation and bitterness clogging her tone, "I don't need this anymore, you know? This—This migraine that you two have always given me. I'm not a side character in the Great Opera of Whizzer and Marvin anymore. I have a child and husband who love me. I have a life where I am happy. I got my happy ending."

"I didn't." The words spill out, accusing and pitiful.

Trina doesn't look sorry for him. She gives him a cool, withering look, "Well, that was your own fault."

"It was Marvin's fault," Whizzer tells her, and he wants back that silent, subtle gaze of hers, that solidarity—he wants her to make him feel less alone, "He ruined us, Trina. He—"

"Us? There is no us. Oh my god, are you serious right now?" Trina looks at him with scathing disappointment, "Jesus, Whizzer, you want me to feel sorry for you? News flash: just because Marvin was a bigger asshole than you doesn't take away from the fact that you were an asshole, too. We are not allies in this, Whizzer—not anymore. And honestly, looking back on it all? I don't think we ever were."

They talk and listen and laugh and cry. And Whizzer wants to say that it had been everything that he thought it would be—renewal of passions, happiness only found within one another, the promise of a future together, the promise of love—but it is not everything. It is only one thing.

It is forgiveness. And Whizzer thinks that right now, that’s more than enough.

Whizzer doesn’t like to look back, to admit to any regrets, but still he needs to know, “Would you do it again? If you—If you knew then all that happened afterwards. Would you have still kissed me that night?”

Whizzer remembers his own response to that question, years ago: "It doesn't matter," Whizzer says quickly, releasing his grip on Marvin's hand, "Just let it go."

“I’d like to believe I would,” Marvin doesn’t hesitate, saying firmly, “That I’d do it again and again. That I would choose you, every time.”

Whizzer looks up at the sky, feels a warm smile spread across his face. He feels happy.

“I’d like to believe that I’d let you, every time.” Whizzer concedes.

Whizzer covers Marvin’s hand with his own, the giddiness and hope rising within him and threatening to split him open. They stare at each other for a long time—adoringly, nervously, disbelievingly—before they slowly turn their gaze to the horizon.

And they don’t look back.

[horrendoushag]

Sappy

A Gravity Falls fanfiction.

This sure was fun to write! Hope I don’t lose motivation and never finish it. Also posted on FFN under Quiet Leaf.

Chapter 2

Summary:  AU. Eighteen-year-olds Dipper and Mabel Pines visit Gravity Falls to investigate paranormal sightings. Among other things, they find gnomes, dinosaurs, and an abandoned old tourist trap called the Murder Hut. But what happened to the owner? Maybe, just maybe, they'll find out.

Main characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Stan Pines.

Word count: 4,827

"Arriving at Gravity Falls."

Dipper Pines was jolted from his stupor by the voice over the intercom. A glance out the window showed the bus was passing over a bridge overlooking a magnificent waterfall—one of many interesting things that he would hopefully be investigating over the summer.

It had all started six months ago, halfway through senior year; rumors had begun to spread about the strange happenings in a small town in the middle of Oregon. Mythical creature sightings, including live garden gnomes that were apparently spotted in the woods and some sort of Loch Ness Monster kinda thing swimming in the lake. Naturally he couldn't miss out on such an opportunity, and of course, his sister Mabel decided to tag along for the ride.

Currently Mabel was collecting her baggage—which was probably what he should be doing too. Right.

Mabel shot him a grin. "Ready to meet some unicorns?"

Dipper rolled his eyes and sighed. "For the last time, Mabel, there might be gnomes, but I doubt there'll be something like unicorns. They're just ancient, messed up interpretations of rhinos."

"Say what you will, but I still think there'll be unicorns."

"Whatever."

The bus came to a halt seconds later. Dipper shot to his feet, Mabel right behind him, and they disembarked on the side of a dusty road.

The bus pulled away. Without the sound of its rumbling engine, the woods were eerily quiet.

"So . . . into town?"

Dipper nodded. "Into town."

One hour later, after checking into a hotel, they found themselves wandering around the quiet streets of Gravity Falls. There weren't many people about—indeed, there weren't many people dwelling in the town at all, but the few they did see were a bit . . . odd. A very large, very red-haired man, for example, had stomped into a bar, and a short and extremely ugly man had tried to interview a old man with an excessively long beard on what it was like to be the local kook.

Nothing less than what Dipper had expected.

"Should we start with interviewing people, or should we check out the woods?" he wondered.

"We should talk to people!" Mabel exclaimed. "We could make a few new friends."

Dipper frowned. "I was kinda thinking of starting with the woods . . ."

But Mabel was already dashing off to the very obvious mall, punnily dubbed Gravity Malls.

This was going to be a long day.

As expected, there were more people in the mall than there were outdoors. However, Mabel's idea of talking to people was different than what Dipper had in mind. She was here to make friends; Dipper was here for information.

While Mabel chatted enthusiastically with a small Asian girl, Dipper went after a woman at a vending stall called Meat Cute. Her name tag said "Melody".

She looked up at his approach and smiled. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

He cleared his throat. "Um, actually, I was hoping you could answer some questions? I just got into town, you see, and I was wondering about a few things."

"Oh, ask away, then. You sure you don't want anything?"

Dipper pulled out his notebook and a pen. "Two corn dogs, please. I wanted to know if you've seen anything . . . weird around lately? Like, supernatural things."

She looked unsurprised. "Of course. There are gnomes, which you've probably heard about, and some teenagers were attacked by ghosts at an abandoned convenience store a few years back. There are fairies, but I'd avoid them if I were you—they just throw up on everything." She held out the corn dogs.

Dipper scribbled everything she'd said in the notebook before tucking it under his arm and taking them. He glanced over his shoulder to find that Mabel and the Asian girl had been joined by a large muscled girl with reddish hair. "Mabel!"

She looked over at him, then gestured to the two girls to follow her and bounced over. Dipper restrained a groan; he did not want to deal with this many new people at once.

"Hey Dipper! These are Candy—" She pointed at the small girl— "and Grenda." The large one. "Candy, Grenda, this is Dipper, my brother."

"Hello," Candy greeted cheerfully, her voice tinted with a Korean accent.

Grenda was a little more outspoken. "HI, DIPPER!" Her voice was loud and booming, drawing a few gazes their way.

Dipper winced. "Nice to meet you too." He turned back to the stall. Melody was looking between him and Mabel.

"So, are you two siblings?"

Mabel beamed. "Twins, actually! I'm Mabel." She took a corn dog from Dipper.

Melody returned the smile. "I'm Melody. And . . ." She turned to Dipper. "You never introduced yourself. Dipper, right?"

He nodded and pretended not to be ashamed of his bad manners. "Yep. Anyway, how much for the corn dogs?"

"Six bucks."

Dipper raised his eyebrows. "That's kind of expensive . . ." He reached for his wallet.

Melody shrugged. "Small town, high prices."

Dipper handed her the money, and she sorted it into the register. "So, any more questions you want to ask?"

Dipper nodded. "Where exactly can we find the gnomes?"

"In the woods, northwest. They're a bit hard to find. Careful, though—there are all kinds of things out there, and the gnomes themselves aren't always very nice."

"All right, thanks." He started turning. "Let's go, Mabel."

"Nice talking to you, Melody!"

They started off, Candy and Grenda falling into step beside them. And giving them weird looks. Dipper returned the sentiment. "What?"

"Well," Candy pushed up her glasses, "the gnomes are very . . . difficult. I do not think you want to go looking for them.

Dipper scoffed. "We can handle a bit of 'difficult', right Mabel?" He took a bite from his corn dog.

She nodded, slightly distracted by a dress in a store window.

"Still," Candy continued. "I'm not sure you are as prepared as you think you are."

". . . Okay?"

Grenda nodded. "At least take a leaf blower."

"A leaf . . . why?"

They had left the mall by now and were crossing the parking lot.

"It's one of their greatest weaknesses! We can use mine."

Dipper nodded slowly. "Thanks? Wait, what do you mean by 'we'?"

"You cannot expect us to let you go alone," Candy said. "The forest is very dangerous, especially to people who are inexperienced."

Mabel drew in a long, slow gasp. "I get to go monster hunting with my new friends! Today is gonna be awesome!"

Two hours later, shortly before sunset, it turned out the day had been decidedly not-awesome. The gnomes were even more vicious than originally thought, especially since they had wanted Mabel as their new queen . . . Ew. Just, ew.

But seeing the gnomes had been pretty awesome! True, bona fide evidence of the existence of the supernatural. Exactly what they'd come here for.

Currently they were on their way back to the hotel to clean up before getting a much-deserved and late dinner. And also to stop by Grenda's house to put back her leaf blower.

They broke through the trees into a clearing illuminated by orange sunlight. To their left, an overgrown road back to town. To their right . . . a dilapidated old house with a large worn sign hanging above the door that said Murder Hut.

What could be creepier?

Mabel let out a little gasp. "What is this place?"

"The Murder Hut," Grenda explained unhelpfully.

Dipper frowned. "So what, is it like a haunted house, or something?"

Candy shook her head. "No, it is . . . Grenda knows better."

"I do. It's an old museum kinda thing—I think it was a tourist trap. There were exhibits, weird machines and stuffed creatures. The guy who ran the place went missing when my parents were kids. From what they told me, I don't think the guy even knew how any of the machines wor—"

"Wait," Dipper interrupted. "The guy went missing? Was it some kind of magical creature?"

Candy shrugged. "No one knows. He disappeared without a trace."

For the moment, they decided against breaking into the old shack to see what was inside. They needed to rest and relax.

They showered to get rid of all the dust they'd collected before eating dinner at a diner with a rather suspicious name—"Greasy's Diner"? It sounded disgusting—which had even more eccentric townsfolk. Their orders were taken by a red-headed woman maybe a few years older than them whose name tag identified her as Wendy. The food was surprisingly good in spite of the diner's name, and once they had stuffed themselves they returned to the hotel.

Dipper plopped himself on his bed, hearing Mabel doing the same across the room. He spent a few moments just lying there, then rolled onto his stomach and pulled his notebook and pen from his vest. "All right," he groaned. "What are we doing tomorrow?"

Mabel remained on her back, craning her neck to look at him. "Anything as long as it doesn't involve gnomes or some other creature that wants to marry me."

Dipper tapped his pen on his notebook. "I was thinking we could check out that old shack in the woods, the 'Murder Hut'."

"Oh, yeah!" Mabel sat up. "That could be fun. Who knows what kind of old stuff is in there?"

Dipper scribbled down a note. "Okay, then. It might be a good idea to take Grenda and Candy along—they know way more about this supernatural stuff than we do."

Mabel grinned. "Took the words right outta my mouth."

The next morning they met with Candy and Grenda for breakfast at Greasy's Diner. Dipper had just opened his mouth to inform the two of his and Mabel's plans for the morning when the waitress from yesterday—Wendy—approached their table.

"Hi, what can I get you guys?"

"Pancakes, please!" Mabel said.

"I'll have pancakes too," Dipper agreed.

"Aaaand, let me guess—" She turned to their two companions. "Coffee omelette for Candy, double order of pancakes for Grenda."

"Yep!" they replied in unison.

"Ha, I knew it!" The waitress scribbled down their orders and turned back to the Pineses. "Hey, we didn't get to talk yesterday—you looked exhausted—but I don't think I've seen you around here before. Are you new?"

Mabel nodded. "We just got here yesterday. We're—what was it, Dipper?"

"Investigating paranormal activity."

"Yeah, that."

"Well, you're not the first. We've had a few other 'paranormal investigators' around lately, but they didn't find anything. Didn't look hard enough, if you ask me." She switched her pen to her left hand with her notepad and held out her right. "I'm Wendy, nice to meet you."

Dipper shook it and smiled. "Dipper Pines. And this is my sister, Mabel." He gestured to Mabel, who grinned and waved.

"Huh. Are you guys siblings?"

"Twins," Dipper answered shortly. Hadn't Melody asked that question yesterday?

"Cool. I'll be back with your orders sometime soon." She sauntered off to the kitchen, red hair swishing behind her.

Dipper turned back to the table. "Anyway, Mabel and I were planning to take a look at the Murder Hut."

Grenda shrugged. "Okay. Not like there's much to see, anyway."

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Seeing their confusion, Grenda continued.

"Most of the stuff in there disappeared about nine years ago. No one knows what happened to it."

Dipper frowned. He pulled out a pen and started clicking it. "Okay . . . do you think there's something supernatural going on there? First the owner disappears, then all the stuff. Maybe it's cursed."

Candy laughed. "Many people have gone inside, and no one has disappeared. Well, except Gorney, but I think he disappeared on the way, not when he was inside."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a glance, but decided not to comment.

"Well, do you want to come?" Dipper asked.

Grenda rubbed the back of her head. "My lizard has a vet appointment today, sorry. You should be safe there anyway."

"I have nothing today," Candy piped up. "I can come."

Mabel smiled. "Perfect."

"All right, Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, and coffee omelet." Wendy came down the aisle, miraculously balancing four plates of food. She slid them off onto the table and gave a small sigh of relief. "Didn't spill them this time."

Dipper raised his eyebrows. "Do you do that a lot?"

"Yep. It's a wonder I haven't been fired yet. Enjoy your meal!"

After breakfast, they headed off to the forest. They managed to find the road leading up to the Murder Hut and followed it, breaking a lot of foliage in the process, and half an hour later they arrived.

Action ti—

Gurl you got me ackin' so cray cray, you tell me that you want me my baby!

Candy pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. "Oh, it's Grenda." She pressed the answer button. "Hello. . . . What happened? . . . Oh, I'm so sorry. I will be there soon. Goodbye." She hung up and turned to them. "Grenda's lizard died. I must comfort her in her time of need."

Mabel's face looked downtrodden. "Oh, poor Grenda . . . I'm coming too."

Candy shook her head. "No. You continue with the mystery hunt. Come meet us at Grenda's house after."

Mabel sighed. "Okay . . . Bye."

Candy was already pushing her way back through the bushes.

Dipper frowned. "This seems like an awful lot of fuss for a lizard."

Mabel let out a scandalized gasp. "Dipper, how could you be so insensitive? She's had this lizard for years!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Can we just—can we continue the investigation now?"

"Yeah, all right."

The wooden steps creaked and groaned horribly under their weight. Dipper winced and gingerly made his way to the door. "It's probably locked, so we might have to break in." He tried the doorknob. It turned. "Huh, what do you know." He pushed the door open. The hinges sounded worse than the steps.

Mabel darted in ahead of him. "Coool! It's . . ."

Dipper stepped in after her and glanced around. "Empty. Like they said."

They were standing in what had once been a gift shop. Most of the souvenirs were gone, replaced with layers of dust. A cash register sat on the counter with its drawer open and bare.

It was strangely quiet.

An old vending machine stood at the back of the room, only a single bag of expired chips left inside. Next to it was a door hung with a sign with Employees Only scrawled across it in large letters.

Dipper strode across the room and pushed it open. It made the same horrific squeaking noise the other door had, so he resigned himself to having to hear the noise with every door.

Mabel followed him through into what seemed to be a tv room slash dining room. There was a table and chairs on the left. A plate with the decomposed, fly-bitten remains of a very old meal was still there. An old television set was up against the wall on the right, and a large recliner sat across from it, next to a side table that looked suspiciously like a real dinosaur skull. It had a doily on top of it. Dust flew into the air with every step across the shag carpet. Mabel coughed behind him, and he pretended he didn't need to do the same.

They stepped out of the room into a hallway. There were stairs leading up on the left, a hallway lined with doors on the right, and in front of them a door to the backyard. They peered out briefly.

All the rooms down the hall and upstairs were empty. The only interesting thing Dipper had noticed was the amount of triangles in the windows.

They clomped back down the creaky stairs after exploring the attic and, to the relief of their dust-filled lungs, exited through the back door.

He and Mabel stood there for a moment, taking in deep breaths of clear air.

Dipper straightened up, disappointed. "Well, looks like that was a huge waste of time."

Mabel shrugged. "At least it was fun! Let's explore the woods." She bounced off to the edge of the clearing. With the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, Dipper followed.

Mabel hummed a happy tune ahead of him. He peered up between the trees, hoping not to see any gnomes preparing to attack. He was looking up one particular tree when he noticed something . . . off about the texture. He stopped, glanced at Mabel, who was oblivious, and ran a finger across the bark.

It wasn't bark.

"Mabel!"

She spun around and dashed over. "What is it? Gnomes? Please say no."

Dipper grinned, unable to contain himself. "It's not gnomes—check this out!" He knocked on the tree. It let out a resounding metallic clang.

Mabel raised her eyebrows. "A metal tree?"

"Yep. And if I'm right . . ." Dipper ran his hand along the "bark". "Aha!" He dug his fingers into a newly discovered crack and pulled the door open. There was a rusty box inside, covered in all manner of switches and buttons. Mabel poked one, and Dipper flipped a switch. There was a quiet scraping noise behind them.

They jumped, spinning around in preparation to fight whatever it was that had made that noise . . . and found a square hole in the ground.

Dipper approached cautiously and peered inside. It wasn't actually that deep, but that wasn't what drew his attention—there was a book.

What.

He grabbed it, shaking a spider web off his hand as he pulled it out. The cover was embossed with a gold six-fingered hand with a large black 3 on it. It was old and worn, and the cover made a small crackling noise as he peeled it open.

It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began researching the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.

The next few pages detailed a number of weird creatures, including the gnomes. Everything they needed to know . . .

What a find.

Later, when they had left the woods, it was remembered that Grenda's lizard had died. Mabel dashed off with a, "See you later!" and Dipper made his way back to the hotel.

This journal proved that someone else had been here before, someone who had actually succeeded in doing what he was trying to accomplish. So much information, all in one book . . . amazing.

Dipper kicked off his shoes the moment he closed his room door behind him and scrambled onto his bed. With that, he began to read.

Mabel returned a couple hours later looking slightly saddened. "Grendo—that's Grenda's lizard— died of old age. Apparently it's been coming on for a while now, but it's still sad."

Dipper couldn't quite sympathize, but he closed the journal and offered condolences anyway. After all was said and done, he glanced at his watch. It read 12:42. "Hey, wanna go get lunch?"

Mabel sighed. "Sure."

They headed out to the diner—Dipper swore they would try somewhere else for dinner—and ordered sandwiches. Wendy, who Dipper determined was about to get off her shift, looked them over.

"Any creatures in particular you're looking for?" she asked.

"Recommendations would be good," Dipper answered, pulling out his notebook.

"Well, my dad's always going on about the Hide Behind. He's a lumberjack, so he's out in the forest a lot. Apparently the Hide Behind hides behind you and makes rattling noises, but when you turn around you can never spot it. Sound good?"

Dipper nodded, writing notes. "Yep. Should just take a few mirrors and we'll have him—I think."

Wendy smiled a lovely smile. "Great. I can't wait till Dad stops going on about how many times it rattled . . ." She walked off to serve another customer then, and Mabel and Dipper left with their sandwiches.

Mabel swallowed a bite. "So, wanna check out the Hide Behind?"

"Of course! We'd better get some mirrors first, though."

Two hours later, they were setting off into the trees with . . . a LOT of mirrors.

It took them fifteen minutes before they heard any sort of rattle, and then it turned out to be a couple branches.

Another fifteen minutes passed. Dipper sighed. "This is getting nowhere. How did we expect to find something that's never been spotted?" They broke through the foliage and into a clearing.

Mabel gave a confused noise. "Why is there a church in the middle of the forest?"

It was a valid question—honestly, who put a church where only the occasional hiker went? "Might as well check it out."

The floorboards of this building creaked even more terribly than those of the Murder Hut. One of them even cracked under Dipper's weight. Oh dear.

The interior was about what you would expect from an old abandoned church; dusty, decrepit, faded stained glass windows. There was a banjo leaning against the wall for some reason.

Mabel, who was ahead of Dipper, took a cautious step onto the altar. The wood crumbled under her foot, and she let out a squeak of fear. Dipper lurched forward and grabbed his sister's arm just before she fell into the abyss. Speaking of . . .

From as about as far back as they could without breaking more of the altar, they peered into the hole Mabel had made. All that could be seen was blackness, though there was a vague hint of green when Dipper shone his flashlight down.

He straightened up. "Do you think the hole could be bigger? Say, big enough for a human to fit down?"

Mabel nodded. "Probably. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You bet!"

Apparently he had not been thinking what she had been thinking. Dipper's idea was, "Go into town, get some rope and an ax, chop the floor, and climb into the hole." Mabel's idea had been, "Grab the banjo, smash the floor in, and climb down without any rope."

They went with Dipper's idea.

They headed back into town, dropped the mirror suit of at the hotel for later use, and started looking for a hardware store.

Dipper frowned. "I know I saw one somewhere . . ." He glanced around and spotted a plump Hispanic man outside a shop labeled Soos Mechanics. "Hey, excuse me!" They jogged over.

The man looked up. "'Sup?"

Well, that wasn't quite the response he'd been expecting.

"Could you tell us where the hardware store it?"

"Oh, sure." He nodded. "It's just around the corner on the right."

"Okay, thanks!" Dipper was about to take off again, but Mabel didn't quite seem ready to follow. She was talking to the guy.

"I'm Mabel! What's your name?"

"I'm Soos, nice to meetcha! Is that your brother?" He gestured to Dipper.

"Yep, that's Dipper. We're twins." Mabel smiled.

Soos grinned back, show off buck teeth. "That's pretty cool—y'know, if I was a twin, and the older one, I'd always be telling my twin, 'When I was your age . . .' and saying what I did five minutes ago or two minutes ago or however long after me my twin was born."

"Great idea! I should start doing that."

"Mabel," Dipper ground out, "we really should get going."

"Oh, right. Bye Soos!" They started off.

"Bye Maple!"

". . . Did he just call you 'Maple'?"

She shrugged. "Easy mistake."

It took a while to find the church again. When they did, it was an simple matter of smashing the floor to bits with their newly acquired ax and securing the rope to something that would hold them on the way down.

They stared into the widened hole. Dipper drew in a deep breath, then let it out. "Okay. Who's going first?"

"I will!" Mabel volunteered cheerfully. She lowered herself into the hole without any further warning, clinging to the rope. Once she was about ten feet down, Dipper followed.

He was starting to get a horrible feeling about this, but it was too late to turn back now.

After a minute or two, he heard a small oof, and looked down. Below was the green they'd kind of been able to see from the top with this flashlight. It was grass, and not just grass, but many exotic, maybe even jurassic plants. Mabel was lying in the grass, staring up at him, and looking out of breath. There was a little bit of a fall between the end of the rope and the ground—she'd probably had the breath knocked out of her.

Ten seconds later he found himself in the same position as she. He took a moment to reorient himself and slowly got to his feet after Mabel.

They were in a large cavern, with all the plants he'd noticed before and some mining shafts in the wall.

"Wow," Mabel breathed.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah . . . how long has this been here?" He walked up to a plant and picked off a large leaf before realizing it could be poisonous and dropping it on the ground. He looked up to see Mabel heading toward the mine shafts and hurried to catch up.

"So," she said brightly, "which one should we go down?"

"Um . . ."

She closed her eyes and pointed at random before opening them again. "Middle it is."

"Middle it is," Dipper agreed.

They traveled down the shaft for a few minutes, glaring suspiciously at a few sets of human-looking bones, and soon emerged into another cavern . . . except this one was much more interesting.

While the previous cave had held all kinds of unheard of plants, this one had a lot of sticky honey-colored sap with perfectly preserved dinosaurs inside.

Best. Day. Ever.

They gaped up at the looming and some not-so-looming creatures, completely entranced. Dipper was broken from his by movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see the claw of one of the dinosaurs wiggling, trying to free itself from its cage.

"Mabel," he said slowly. "I . . . I think they're still alive."

"Wow, reall—OH MY GOSH!"

Dipper jumped and spun to face whatever had caused his sister to shout. "What? What is—oh. Oh my gosh."

There, encased in the sap in front of them was a man with a look of desperation on his face. For a moment Dipper thought he was staring at them, but then he realized the man wasn't moving at all, or staring directly at them. He wore a worn-out jacket which Dipper assumed was red, though it was hard to see through the sap, which had also slicked down his brown hair.

"We . . . we have to get him out! What do we have?" Mabel demanded.

"Well, we didn't exactly bring the ax down with us." Dipper hurried up to the sap and poked at it. "It's melting—because the summer heat—we might be able to get him out without any tools, but we'd get pretty sticky."

"Doesn't matter," Mabel snapped. She pulled out a hair tie, put her hair up, and popped her knuckles. "Let's do this."

Digging through the sap was grueling business. Dipper felt like a gross mess only halfway through, but he had to be thankful this man wasn't buried as deeply as the dinosaurs.

After about ten minutes of scooping, pulling, and sometimes even pushing, they finally managed to pull the man out. He somehow stood steady for a moment, staring off nowhere in particular, then promptly collapsed. Both Pines twins jumped.

"He's not dead, is he?" Mabel squeaked.

Dipper bent down shakily to check the pulse. He didn't feel it for a moment, but after he managed to get his hand to stop trembling, he could feel it there. He plopped onto the floor with a sigh of relief. "He's fine. Well, I don't know if he's fine fine, he's been trapped in weird sap for who knows how long, but he's not dead."

Mabel stood only a moment longer before sitting next to him. "Great. Great!" She leaned on her shoulder. "When I said I was coming with you, I had no idea I was signing up for this."

Dipper shook his head. "Me neither."

The man gave a small groan and shifted slightly. Mabel and Dipper were immediately alert.

"Is he waking up?"

"Wait a sec, Mabes." Dipper put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Hey, are you oka—"

The man sat up abruptly. "That's ten bucks, not 9.99!" He looked around. ". . . Wait, what? Where am I? What—? Oh." He looked up at the dinosaurs. "Sap."

"Um, yeah . . ."

The man seemed to notice them for the first time. "Oh, hey there." He took in the sap-coated state of them, and then himself. "Did you get me out?"

They nodded wordlessly.

"Uh . . . thanks." He avoided their eyes and stood up, almost falling over before he managed to balance on the sap. He pushed off the moment he realized what he was leaning on. "How long have I been down here?"

Dipper looked around at the various dinos. If they could be trapped here for years, theoretically it was possible that this man had been too. "What year is it?"

The man gave him a weird look. "What, you don't know what the year is? It's 1982."

Mabel's expression was pained. "It's not 1982 anymore . . . it's 2017."

[cajunroe]

baberoe + teacher/parent!au ( + teacher!babe + doctor/parent!gene) ↳ all his life, babe has wanted to teach. he wasn’t really particular about where or what grade, he just knew that he wanted to help kids with the difficulties that come with growing up. turns out, early education was his calling. he’d grown up teaching the kids in his neighborhood geometry and art history and biology, and he was good at it. he loved it. it only made sense to make a career out of it. it’s been three years and he loves his job teaching first graders. they’re energetic, smart, hilarious, and challenging. everyday gets to be an adventure. two weeks into the new school year and his life completely changes. a young girl named charlie, with sharp blue eyes, light red hair, a sassy attitude, a southern accent,  and a jean jacket with the band rancid on the back, is transferred into his class. babe likes her from the moment she slaps bobby wittmore for trying to steal her cookie. before he knows it, it’s november and time for parent teacher conferences. babe is always nervous, he teaches at an elite elementary school and the parents can be intimidating. charlie is the last conference and her father is twenty minutes late before running through the door, charlie in tow. babe’s jaw drops at the flustered man standing in the classroom doorway. pale skin, hair as dark as night, light pink lips stretched across bright white teeth, and a deep, gravely voice apologizing for being late and babe is down for the count. he feels something in him shift, and feels like this man was someone he didn’t know he was looking for. he feels like home.

“hi mr. heffron!” charlie waved excitedly from the doorway before running up to babe and giving him a hug.

“hiya charlie! how are you?”

charlie shrugged and sighed like her troubles were weighing her down and babe fought another smile.

“honestly, i could be better, mr. h. betty johnson stole my red crayon at recess today.”

babe leaned in close, “we’ll just have to get you a whole new pack of crayons, won’t we?”

charlie smiled wide and put her hand up for a high five.

babe returned it before giving her a coloring book and crayons.

he looked up to the girl’s father and his heart started hammering in his chest, nervous for an entirely different reason. 

“you must be gene. hi, i’m mr. heffron, but you can call me babe.”

the man’s eyebrows rose as he shook babe’s hand.

babe laughed curtly, “real name’s edward, but ain’t nobody called me that since catholic school.”

charlie’s father squinted at him and it made babe’s palm sweat. 

he jerkily gestured to the seat in front of his desk, “please have a seat.”

“i’m sorry for bein’ late, but i’m a surgeon at the hospital downtown. with the move and everything, it’s been a little difficult to adjust and get our schedule down.”

babe smiled, “it’s no problem. it’s not like i had anything better to do.”

smooth babe. real smooth.

he cleared his throat, “anyway, as much as you’re having difficulty adjusting, charlie is thriving.”

charlie piped up, “hear that dad? i’m thriving.”

babe laughed and he saw gene smile fondly. babe could fall in love with that smile.

“her grades are excellent and she’s reading at a second grade level. you have a very bright daughter.”

gene’s looked shifted from anxious to proud, like he was worried on hearing something else.

“i hope you don’t mind me asking, but why the sudden move?”

gene ran a hand through his hair, “i was offered a position at the hospital here that was too good to pass up. i asked charlie if she wanted to live in phiily and she asked me if there was snow here. when i told her yes, she immediately ran to start packing.”

babe laughed and saw the love and adoration gene had for his daughter. if babe could’ve swooned he would’ve.

“well charlie is an incredible girl and you didn’t hear it from me,” babe leaned in to whisper the last part, “but she is probably my favorite student.”

gene laughed and babe felt the warm breath fan across his face and he blushed. 

“that’s awful nice of you, mr. heffron.”

“please call me babe.”

they stared at one another for a moment too long before charlie slammed a picture on babe’s desk.

“here ya go mr. h. i made it for you.”

babe looked and saw who he thought to be himself, charlie, and gene all walking in the park together.

“that you and me and then daddy. i was gonna draw a dog, but i don’t know what kind of dog i wanna get yet. daddy say i have to wait until the summer to pick one out.”

babe was tickled pink, but saw how uncomfortable gene was becoming.

“thank you charlie, i’ll be sure to put it somewhere special.”

she smiled brightly and skipped back to the desk.

“i-i’m sorry about that, she has no filter, just like her mother.”

babe’s heart sank a little.

“i don’t mean to pry, but both parents usually like to come together.”

gene smiled sadly, “she died when charlie was born. it’s just been us two since then.”

babe mentally slapped himself across the face. 

“i-i’m so sorry gene, i didn’t mean to…”

gene smile warmly again, “it’s okay. she was a best friend and we’d gotten way too drunk one night, but i’d make that decision ten times over if it meant i got charlie.”

gene’s eyes widened, he didn’t offer that information to everyone, but something about his daughter’s teacher’s open expression made him want to tell him everything.

babe’s heart melted and he cursed whoever was bringing this man into his life because he was ruining every other man for him in a thirty minute meeting. 

“she’s blessed to have you, gene. you’re doing a wonderful job.”

gene let out a sigh of relief, “i gotta say i’m glad to hear you say that. with the move and doin’ everything on my own, i feel like i’m just guessing at everything. i never feel like i’m doin’ enough, you know?”

babe leaned forward and placed a hand gently on gene’s, attempting to comfort the man, “trust me gene, you’re doing more than a lot of the parents i see. and most of them are parents living off their spouse’s or family’s wealth. you are working full time and trying to raise a five year old on your own. believe me, you’re doin’ just fine.”

babe smiled reassuringly and gene placed a hand on top of gene’s.

babe opened his mouth to say something, anything, when someone interrupted.

“babe, you gotta tell web that there’s such a thing as bigfoot. he won’t believe m-am i interrupting?”

babe and charlie bit out a, “yes,” just as gene said, “no.”

“charlize grab your thing, we need to get home.”

charlie grunted and glared at lieb before walking to babe and giving him a hug.

“bye bye mr. h! see ya tomorrow.”

“bye charlie,” babe extended his hand to gene, “pleasure to meet you gene.” 

he smiled gently and received a tight, slightly uncomfortable one in return.

“mr. heffron.”

they were walking out the door before babe could correct him…again.

lieb spoke up, web silent beside him.

“sorry babe, didn’t mean to interrupt your,” he gestured in the room, “thing.”

babe sighed, “it’s fine,” then he shouted, “david webster bigfoot is one hundred percent real.”

web flew into a rage shouting at the two men and the three left together, lieb and web still arguing, while babe thought about the man he’d met tonight.

the next few weeks flew by and before babe knew it, it was nearly time for christmas break.

for the past week he’d dedicated each day to different traditions and religious practices around the world. today was the last day and after a holiday themed spelling test, he decided to let the children relax and watch ‘a charlie brown christmas’ and enjoy the rice krispie treats they got to make during art.

as they settled in on the floor, babe sat at his desk and watch the snow slowly fall. he really loved his life sometimes. his phone buzzed and normally he didn’t answer during work, but it was the day before break and he wasn’t teaching right now.

lieb: web is having an easy family thing at his place on sunday, you down?

babe: yeah, provided my family doesn’t drag me into their twelve days of christmas extravaganza. i swear my ma makes shit up every year.

lieb: lol i don’t even know what her tinsel tower tango was supposed to be. everyone just got drunk and passed out. he said to invite bill and fran, he invited the rest of the guys.

babe: haha! it was a disaster. and will do, doubt they’ll miss it. fran has been helping kitty with wedding planning and i think bill could use some guy time. 

lieb: i’m cracking up at bill picking out linens. 

lieb: shit i gotta go, bobby jackson keeps pulling layla hyde’s bra strap.

babe laughed softly, counting his blessings that he only has to deal with hair pulling and name calling.

the final bell rang and babe helped the kids bundle up to brave the cold outside before seeing them out the door.

he passed them to the carpool volunteers, went back into the warm school, and answer a call from bill.

“heya babe.”

“hey bill, what’s up?”

“just callin’ to see how you’re holding up since lieb and web crashed your date.”

babe groaned, “it wasn’t a date bill. gene is a student’s father, nothin’ more.”

“uh uh and pig are flyin’ out my ass. you’re lying babe.”

“fine i like him, a lot, but he don’t want anything to do with me bill. i’m just charlie’s teacher.”

babe reached his classroom, head down, and sat down at his desk heavily.

“yup, just his kid’s teacher. nothing that gene roe would ever want to be a part of his life.”

“alright, enough of this whiney bullshit. we’re going to the bar tonight because if i’m asked one more question about color schemes, i’m gonna shoot myself.”

babe laughed, “okay, see you at the 501st at eight.”

gene was nervous. he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night off, let alone a night out. but as it was, he was getting ready to go to some popular bar with a couple of friends from work.

charlie was helping him choose what to wear.

he held up to dress shirts.

“neither. just the tshirt dad.”

“baby, it’s twenty degrees outside and daddy isn’t used to anything below sixty.”

“then wear that leather jacket you got to match mine.”

gene smiled, he loved how brazen and fearless his daughter was, especially when it came to her choice in clothing.

“you got it kid.”

gene put it on and held his hands out for her final decision. he was wearing all black from head to toe and it offset his pale skin in the way he liked and knew other men liked as well.

“perfect daddy! you look like james dean but better!”

gene laughed and picked up his daughter throwing her over his shoulder.

he set her down on the counter and got her one of her favorite snacks.

she was chewing loudly when she asked a question that had gene stop in his track from tying his boots.

“daddy, will i ever have another daddy?”

gene didn’t look up, continuing his process, albeit with shaky hands.

“what do you mean princess?”

“like cindy martinez has two mommies and kyle brinker has two daddies. you explained it all to me and i wanna know if you want to find us another daddy.”

“am i not enough sweetheart?”

“of course you are, but sometimes i need another dad for when you’re not here.”

gene’s heart broke a little, but he smiled at his daughter’s inquiry.

“one day, charlie, one day.”

“you should make mr. heffron my new daddy. i like him a lot and he said that he’d be lucky if he had a kid like me.”

gene frowned, he’d been trying to keep his daughter’s teach out of his mind. something about the man clinging to gene and refusing to let go. gene did always have a thing for redheads.

“charlie, i don’t think it’d be appropriate. he’s your teacher and,” someone knocked at the door and gene took charlie down from the counter and plopped her on the floor, “it’s complicated baby.”

charlie shouted, “but he likes you daddy. like likes you like johnny like me. he told someone named bill that he does.”

gene didn’t know which point to tackled first. his daughter wasn’t a liar, something he’d tried to instill in her since the start and she had taken to it with gusto. the second that babe had talked about him to someone and said he liked him. gene would’ve given anything to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.

“we’ll talk later charlie. the babysitter’s here.”

gene made introductions and was gathering his stuff to leave.

“alright charlie, come say bye to your old man.”

charlie ran into his arms and gene loved when she hugged him like that.

“be good and please try not to discuss politics with this one.”

charlie ruffled her father’s hair.

“i don’t make promises i can’t keep daddy.”

gene laughed and left.

babe sighed into his beer, bill was talking his ear off about work and he was listening but his mind kept shifting back to gene. god he was crushing harder than he did when he was in grade school. but gene was so magnetic that babe just couldn’t let go.

“god i ain’t see you this lovesick since that jack guy a coupla years back.”

babe groaned, “i’m not lovesick, gene just,” babe looked past bill and his heart stopped when he saw the door open, “is here.”

babe ducked under the table and he wasn’t sure why.

“what babe?” bill ducked under the table with babe.

“he’s here he just walked through the door.”

bill looked, “which one there’s like five guys.”

babe looked up, “which one? the pretty one.”

bill leveled a look at babe that said ‘be more specific dumbass.’

“the pretty one with the black hair and blue eyes that make you wanna stare at them all day,” babe sighed.

“christ, you in love with this guy?”

babe scoffed, not necessarily in denial, “no, there’s no way.”

“you sound like me when i talk about frannie.”

“okay…maybe…a little. no, wait, that’s crazy right?”

bill laugh, “babe ain’t nothin’ about your life ever been sane. your mother’s christmases can attest to that.”

babe laughed and looked over to where gene was laughing with his friends.

“he’s something else, bill.”

he looked to bill and saw a smile that had always made babe weary. it was a smile that told babe that bill was about to do something that he wouldn’t like and more often than not would end up with them in trouble, in a fight, or in jail.

“well, if he’s the guy for you then i gotta meet him don’t i?”

before babe could stop him bill was halfway across the room and made his way right next to where gene was standing. 

babe wanted to look away, run away, and hide, but he couldn’t.

he saw bill grab a glass of wine off the bar and interrupt the conversation the gene was having with his friends.

he saw bill laugh and gene smile before being handed a glass of wine and then…

oh shit

bill was pointing directly at babe and babe and gene made eye contact and both men’s eyes widened.

babe waved, awkward and turned back to finish his beer in one full drink.

gene was startled when the slightly abrasive man started talking directly to him.

“listen man, my best friend thinks you’re something else, he’s just a little shy. this is from him and he’s right over there,” bill pointed to babe and gene followed his finger.

when his eyes caught babe’s his heart skipped. fuck.

“well shit, charlie was right.”

bill laughed, “your daughter right?”

gene nodded.

“babe thinks she hung the moon, i’ve never heard him talk about one of his kids like that.”

gene smiled, “i’ve never heard charlie talk about a teacher like she does him. she really likes him. and i happen to know for a fact that she hung the moon.”

bill laughed, “well i gotta go, the missus is gonna kill me if i’m late again.”

he moved to walk away but turned back to gene, “two things, babe’s been my friend since we was in diapers. you hurt him, i hurt you. got it?”

gene nodded solemnly, the threat very clear.

“and two, he’s head over heels for ya, doc. so don’t blow it.”

gene watched bill yell his goodbye to babe across the bar.

he swallowed a hefty amount of his wine before making his way across the bar.

fuck. shit. no. oh my god. i’m gonna kill bill. shit he looks so good. it’s illegal how good he looks right now. and oh my god he’s smiling at me. why is he smiling like that.

“good evening.” gene said in a low voice.

“fuck me,” babe breathed out and then immediately blushed.

“maybe once we get to know each other.” gene winked and babe felt like he melted into a puddle of goo.

gene laughed and sat across from babe, taking a long drink of his glass of wine.

“so,” babe started, “now that i’ve been thoroughly embarrassed. fancy meeting you here.”

gene laughed warmly, “i could say the same about you. it’s..it’s good to see you babe.”

“you too gene”

“i wa-”

“hey gene! you called me babe!”

gene narrowed his eyes, “i did? when?” 

babe smiled, “just now.”

gene laughed, “babe,” he drawled liking the way it felt on his tongue, “i guess i did.”

babe laughed with him then tried to imitate gene’s voice, “babe.”

the look on gene’s face would have been considered annoyed if he didn’t look so damn fond and lovestruck. it knock the breath of out babe’s lungs.

“heffron, order me another glass of goddamn wine.”

babe laughed and bit his lip, you got it gene.”

that night, as the two migrated closer to one another, they got to know each other.

gene found out about babe’s insecurities as a teacher and babe found out more about gene’s insecurities as a father. they talk about their pasts, their presents, and their hopes for the future. they talked until most of the bar had emptied and there was barely any space between them in the booth.

“you charlie is a really great kid. i mean that gene. if i ever have kids…if they were even a tenth of what charlie is, i’d be happy.”

gene looked at his hands and then back up at babe, “she, uh, she told me you told her that.”

babe’s eyes widened.

“she also a-asked me if i would ever find her another daddy. and then she suggested i ask you because she heard you talking to bill, who i assumed is the man who approached me tonight?”

babe nodded, hanging on every word coming out of gene’s mouth, like he was dreaming and would never dare wake up.

“she said you were talking to him and saying how much you like me…like like me, as she put it. and who’s this johnny she keeps talk-”

gene was cut off by babe’s warm hands holding onto his face and his warm, soft lips caressing and gliding over his own.

he responded instantly, pulling babe into his arms and breathing in everything about babe, feeling like he was coming home after a long day. kissing babe made him feel like everything was right and okay and would always be that way.

when they pulled apart, gene kept them close, by placing his head on babe’s shoulder.

babe whispered, “wow,” completely in shock over what he’d just experienced.

gene laughed, “yeah.”

babe pulled gene’s head up and kissed him again.

“gene, would you like to go to dinner with me? properly, i mean. i-i want to do this right. i can’t screw it up. not with you.”

gene smiled, falling even more in love with the man in front of him than he already was. he really did have a thing for redheads.

“i’d love that babe.”

babe kissed gene again and felt everything finally fall in place.

                                                    two years later.

babe really hated pta meetings. since he and gene had gotten married, they agreed to share full parental duties. that included pta. carol hastings, the chairwoman of the board, was a prissy, stuck up woman who insisted everything be done exactly her way. and she always demanded she make the brownies for all the bake sales. babe seethed the last time he was assigned popcorn balls. he made phenomenal brownies, goddamn it. 

so it was the christmas pageant planning meeting and carol was being a fucking tyrant. declaring that anything anyone suggested was out of the question.

“christ she’s got a stick up her ass, don’t she?” lieb grunted.

babe laughed, “yeah. she still won’t let me make brownies. and she even brought them here just to shove it in my fucking face, i swear.”

babe was livid about the damn brownies, but he needed to be calm and wait for carol to announce the pageant singers for this year.

charlie had practiced for weeks for a solo and babe watched happily and proudly as she nailed it. he just knew she was going to get it.

“…and the last soloist of the year will be peter hastings.”

the crowd slowly clapped, some fed up and other not surprised that her own son was going to solo.

babe. was. pissed.

he stood up and pointed at the woman in front, “fuck you carol! charlie deserves that part and you know it!”

the other parents gasped, but some looked at babe like he was leading a revolution.

bethany hart stood up, babe had always liked her since she spiked the punch at the pta end of the year party last year, “yeah and you never let any of us pick the themes for the dances.”

bob chardon stood up next, “and my wife jessica made amazing bouquets for the banquet last year and you threw them out!”

as others stood up and demanded a new chairperson, babe was fueled.

he strode over to the table by the front of the stage.

he grabbed the tray of brownies. brownies that should’ve been his.

“and everyone hates your goddamn brownies.”

he threw them on the ground and the crowd cheered. 

lieb was dying of laughter, god he and web should have kids if it led to shit like this.

he saw babe storm out and followed him.

babe was laughing but looked scared, “gene’s gonna fucking kill me.”

after babe had calmed charlie down after breaking the news of her not getting the solo. 

she was all tucked in and asleep and babe trudged downstairs.

he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sighed after a long sip.

gene walked through the door and the look on his face told babe they were about to argue.

more like, babe was about to get yelled at.

twenty minutes later, babe was proven right. gene was yelling at him.

“and i can’t believe you destroyed her brownies. carol is vindictive and shows favoritism, but christ babe we have to still see these people.”

babe nodded. he didn’t feel bad, carol had deserved it for the years they’ve had to tolerate her.

“and i had to tell her some shit about my job adding stress and i’ve been working long hours so you’ve had more on your plate.”

babe stopped there.

“what the fuck gene? that woman doesn’t deserve anything less than the truth. and she certainly doesn’t need to know jack shit about our family.”

gene sighed, “what was i supposed to do babe? she was going to demand for you resignation. i had to talk her down.”

babe was taken aback by that. his shoulder slumped in exhaustion.

“i-i’m sorry gene, that woman is just horrible. and she purposely didn’t give charlie the solo just so her untalented son could have the solo. i only just got our daughter to calm down. she was devastated.”

gene’s heart swelled every time babe used the word “out” to describe their family. “our” home. “our” life. “our” love. “our daughter. the last one was his personal favorite.

“i’m sorry babe, but we’ll get through this. if i have to go to meeting from now on, i will. i didn’t realize it was so brutal. and charlie will be okay, she doesn’t deserve that, she deserves that solo, but she’s strong and resilient. she’ll be okay.”

babe sighed and pulled gene to him, “i just love you both so much. it’s hard not to want to protect and fight for you both. that’s how i’ve always shown my love, even since i was a kid. bill and i had too many black eyes as kids.”

gene smiled and pulled babe into a soft, but strong, kiss.

“i love you babe heffron.”

babe breathed out a sigh of relieved tension, “god, i love you gene roe.”

they heard a soft yawn and charlie sleepily asked, “you guys fighting?”

gene laughed and moved to pick up charlie, “no baby, we’re just talking.”

babe looked at his family with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes and gene fell in love all over again.

“hey princess, i think papa needs to be cheered up. why don’t we give him your christmas present early?”

charlie perked up, “really?!”

gene nodded, “yeah.”

he put charlie down and she ran like the wind to the large tree in their living room.

gene pulled out his phone, needed to commemorate this moment forever.

babe sat on the kitchen floor with charlie in his lap.

“let’s see what this is, my queen. a present for a lowly servant like me.”

charlie laughed, “you’re not a servant papa, you’re a knight in shining armor.”

babe delivered a kiss to the top of charlie’s head as he finished ripping the wrapping paper off the picture frame.

as he read the paper inside the simple frame, his hands shook and tears ran down his cheeks.

charlie jumped up and wrapped her arms around babe who hugged her tight and looked at gene in absolute astonishment and pure love and happiness.

gene moved to the floor to join his husband and daughter. 

he kissed babe until they were absolutely breathless.

“merry christmas papa!”

“merry christmas charlie!”

“merry christmas daddy!”

“merry christmas princess!”

gene whispered against babe’s lips, “merry christmas babe.”

babe laughed and whispered back, “merry christmas gene.”

on that kitchen floor, in a simple macaroni and rhinestone frame made by their daughter, sat a paper that stated that edward heffron had full parental and custodial rights of charlize antoinette roe. charlie was officially and legally his. as was gene.

on that kitchen floor, babe’s entire world came together. 

@jim-bones-spock​ - THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. THIS PROMPT WAS AN ABSOLUTE GODSEND AND I HOPE YOU LOVE IT BECAUSE I REALLY REALLY DO. <3

send me a pairing and an au and i’ll make an aesthetic post + ficlet 

[blueneonlightshow-blog]

Bad Boy x Princess AU

“All I’m saying is that you lend me your wand for one second and-”

“No.”

“C'mon, princess! Do you have any idea how funny using that… syrup… tsunami thing… in the hallways would be? Janna and Oscar would kill to pull off a prank like that!”

Star rolled her eyes at the boy, picking up her pace as the two headed towards the school. “Your immature prank would have quite the punishment from your administrators.”

Marco scoffed. “And when has that ever stopped me before?”

“You do understand that another large scale prank would result in you leaving the school permanently, yes?”

“Gee, since when did you start to care, princess? Are you finally starting to like having me around?” he asked teasingly, nudging her arm.

Star swatted his hand away with her wand and brushed her sleeves as if to dust the filth from her clothes. “Just as an owner would grow fond of a dog, I suppose even I could learn to appreciate the company of a subhuman animalistic brute like yourself.”

“Well, screw you too, princess.”

“Language, Marco Diaz. But in truth, I would prefer not to have you leave the school so suddenly, otherwise I would need to settle in with another host family, and I sincerely doubt they would be as accepting as your household.”

Marco chuckled. “Yeah, my parents are pretty cool like that, aren’t they? Trust me, you’ll never find a better family like mine, you hear?”

Star stopped, turning around and tapped the boy’s head repeatedly with her wand. “Yes, that’s why I am not lending you this wand for your silly pranks. I happen to like your family.” She turned on her heels and continued to walk towards the entrance of the school.

He growled at her actions, rubbing his head. “Keep that up and I’ll kick you out of the house myself…” He caught up to the princess, ‘accidentally’ bumping into other students as he walked through the hallway. “You know, princess, you should really cut loose, once in awhile. Cause some mayhem, why don’t you? Enough with the royal crap. Just relax, enjoy life. Let crazy stuff happen! It’s better than being a total killjoy bitch all the-”

She spun around, giving a death stare to her host. “This 'killjoy bitch’ is going to cast you into the void if you continue spouting out any more stupidity.” Marco stared at the princess, shocked at her sudden outburst… and their sudden closeness. He blinked a few times, trying to hold back his blush while keeping his heart under control. Star held her ground for a moment, glaring at the boy at close proximity before nervously breaking down, holding her hands to her mouth. “Oh nononononononono, I just said a bad word, I’m so sorry. I promise never to say that again, why did I say that, such foul language, it feels awful, it’s disgusting! I’m sorry, mother. I’m sorry, father. Oh nononono,” she rambled.

Marco shook his head, his heart now beating properly, and stared in disbelief at how quickly she changed. “…Wow… That's… kind of sad.”

Star wiped her mouth, whimpering at her outburst. “I should never say such a thing, I’m the princess of Mewni. Royal families never say such vulgar language…”

“Man, you are really letting this whole royalty thing get to your head. Just relax. A few curse words isn’t gonna kill you.” The boy rolled his eyes, smirking at the teen’s reaction. “Such a drama queen. Like you ever did anything bad in your life.”

“That’s… not true. I used to be quite the rebellious child.”

“Oh no. What’d you do? Stay up past your bedtime?”

“Well, that too, but much more after that. I was almost as much of a delinquent as you. I just choose not to do those things anymore. It’s uncivilized and unethical.”

Marco scratched his chin, thinking. “Unethical, huh? Well, how’s this for unethical. You do something bad and I promise… I’ll make some super awesome nachos for you.”

Star’s eyes widened. “Wh… r-really?”

He smiled. Despite how restrained the princess acted, she could never turn down his nachos. “Absolutely! That is… if you can do a little bad…”

“W-well… I…” She bit her lips, weighing her options. Nervously laughing, she turned around and tried to distract herself from the idea of the delicious meal. “Y-you can’t bribe me like that, you fool. A-as if I-I’d subject myself to doing immoral things just for a simple plate of your… delicious… nachos…”

“I’ll add more cheese this time-”

The princess grabbed his shoulders, pulling him close to her face. “What do you need me to do?”

Once again, Marco’s heart raced, his blush slowly revealing itself. “O-okay… well… here’s an idea…”

—————————————

“You can’t be serious…”

“Go on, princess. All you have to do is pull the fire alarm.”

“But… there is no fire…”

“No, there isn’t. Now pull the alarm.”

Star looked nervously at the vibrant red alarm, biting her lips once more. “Er… M-maybe we can do something else. I mean, there’s no point in inconveniencing everyone and evacuating the building.”

“Believe me, you’ll be doing everyone a favor. Save them from the boredom 'n stuff.”

“Okay, but consider this idea, what if-”

“Do you want your nachos or not?”

“…” She looked back at the red device. “But…”

“No alarm, no nachos.”

Star hesitantly reached out to the handle and in a swift motion pulled the alarm. The blaring sound echoed through the hallways, making the pair wince at the obnoxious sound. A teacher came out from one of the classrooms and found the two standing by.

“Did you two pull the alarm!?”

Star nodded slowly, scared of the repercussions.

“Good work, you two! One of my students mixed the wrong chemicals and started a fire!”

“What!?” The teens shouted.

“Get going! You definitely saved some students!”

The teacher continued to escort the remaining students out of the room, leaving Star and Marco in disbelief.

“…You gotta be kidding me…”

—————————————

"Alright, princess. That obviously didn’t work out so well.” Marco took his seat at the park bench.

Star shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. After all, there was a real fire in the classroom.”

“You’re supposed to do something bad. That was a good thing you did back there.”

“Thank you!”

“That wasn’t a compliment…” He sighed, looking around for another opportunity, observing the bystanders talking among themselves, eating their own food and walking their dogs. “Hmm… alright… new plan. Ready to annoy some people?”

“I would prefer not to.”

“Great. See those dogs? I want you to cut the leashes and let them run like crazy. The owners should have a hard time getting them under control.”

Star glanced at the several dogs in the park, walking alongside their masters. “Perhaps… maybe one dog will suffice? I would be ruining someone’s day doing that. No need do it to everyone, right?”

“Nachos.”

The very name of the food made her mouth salivate. She coughed and mumbled to herself. “…R-right…”

With the wand in her hand, she pointed it in the general direction of the dogs and shot multiple bursts of light, burning the leashes and freeing the animals. She then created a floating squeak ball and let it roam the park, gathering the attention of dogs as they followed the ball, running from their masters.

“Heh… nice one, princess-”

“Hey!” The two turned to see one of the dog owners standing over them. “Did you just make that floating ball?”

Marco leaned over and whispered to the princess. “Ooooooh, you’re in trouble…”

She shot a dirty look at the boy before returning her attention to the owner. “Um… y-yes?”

“That… is awesome!”

“W-what?”

“My dog has a ton of energy and it takes me hours to walk the little guy. That floating ball is just what I needed!”

Marco stood up, annoyed at the owner’s reaction. “Dude! Your dog is running around the park unsupervised because of this girl and you’re okay with that?”

“Meh, these dogs are well trained enough.”

“God… damn it.”

“Language, Marco Diaz.”

—————————————

The two returned home after an exhausting day of trying to find something bad for Star to do. By some rule of the universe, everything the princess did ended up being for the better. After the park, they tried vandalizing cars, starting fights, making the sidewalk slippery, even making prank phone calls! All of which ended up benefiting people rather than producing negative outcomes. It was impossible for Star Butterfly be bad.

“This was a wasted day,” Marco said, taking his seat on the couch.

“Come now, Marco Diaz. I thought it was plenty of fun.”

“Yeah, fun because it ended up helping people.”

“Isn’t that the best kind of fun?”

He stuck his tongue out, pretending to gag at how corny she sounded. “Yeah… sure princess…”

“Now… about those nachos…”

“Yeah, no. You still didn’t do anything bad.”

“…What if I steal something?”

“You’re gonna steal something? Yeah right. You stealing something would probably make someone richer.”

“I’ll steal from you.”

Marco laughed. “HA! Okay, now that’s rich. Go ahead, see if you can steal something from me. I’ll genuinely be impressed if you can snag anything-” Star leaned in and kissed the boy on his cheek, causing him to jump back to the other side of the couch with a red face. He brought a hand to his cheek, trying to process what she just did. “W-what… you… why…”

“I stole a kiss,” she simply stated with a smirk on her face. “I believe I deserve some nachos, yes?”

Marco’s heart pumped rapidly at her action, he was certain she could hear the beat. “U-um…”

Star took her seat on the couch, and smiled. “I’ll be waiting for my prize.”

Marco slowly backed into the kitchen, keeping his eye on the princess. He turned the corner and leaned against the counter. “Steal a kiss…?”

He let out a small nervous chuckle, his face burning as he replayed the moment in his mind.

“That’s just cheating… Star…”

——————

Looks like it’s APRIL 3RD! At least it is in my timezone :D

@starcoweek3 one down, six to go. GET READY FOR MORE FICS cuz I can’t draw for my life ;__;