#first of the wag collection lemme know how you like !!

[korissideblog]

ᴴᵉʸ i already apologized to Dante, but I guess I also have to apologize to y’all. So… once again, sorry I did a kick flip so sick it made the tag ill. I’ll be sure to think of you all when I’m living a solitary life as a hermit in the forest who’s mistaken for the ghost of a witch.

uuummmmmmI also finished the jetsam fic last night 👉👈 so here you go bestys <3

@jetsam-kisa

Jetsam knew getting into some sort of activity with Aito would be a mistake. Usually the little creature was up to something malicious, and even if you couldn’t figure it out immediately, at some point something would take a sharp right turn and now she’s tricked you into being his accomplice for whatever his next cruel joke is. Aito hasn’t revealed what this trick will be, but it definitely terrifies him considering that they’re in the kitchen.

“It’s just that Mich’ gave me such a pretty skirt yesterday.” Aito had explained, her wiry tail wagging from side to side. “And both Ikuto and Haru said I should say thank you with a little gift in return!”

And so Jetsam (foolishly) agreed to help Aito make cookies. Aito had found the recipe and ingredients, all she needed help with was execution. Jetsam wasn’t sure if he was stressed about how little he could vet the ingredients, or if he was relieved because he was helping with so little- he couldn’t possibly get in trouble for just making cookies right? Right???

“So we have flour, baking soda… salt right here…” Jetsam mumbled, his usual plumes of smoke going up and dissipating into the air as he read off what ingredients they would need and making sure Aito got the right stuff. Aito sat on the counter nearby, watching Jetsam sort everything out silently. After making sure everything was in place, Jetsam gave Aito the thumbs up and Aito hopped off the counter to come help. “Could you preheat the oven-” Jetsam immediately recognized the fault in leaving Aito alone with a heat source and took it back “ah, no, lemme get the oven, you can start mixing th-” nope! Aito would probably be worse if he was left unsupervised with ingredients that someone would be eating, and took that back as well. “Ok then… I’ll preheat the oven, you can just… just stand there for a second.” he finally settled on, stepping away and quickly setting the oven before looking back to check on Aito and-

And she didn’t seem to be doing much. Just kinda standing around, scrolling through the phone that they were using to look at the instructions. Seeing as it was Aito’s phone, Jetsam didn’t see any reason to panic as he returned to Aito’s side. “Next we have to mix the flour, baking soda, and salt.” Aito said, scrolling up and down the instructional website in boredom. “Sounds easy, lemme get the thingies.” by ‘thingies’ Aito apparently meant measuring tools, and (with a nervous Jetsam’s supervision) measured out the dry ingredients and put them into a bowl.

“Have you started on the report for history?” Jetsam asked, starting to mix the wet ingredients together with a handheld mixer- much too afraid of something motorized being in Aito’s hands to let her help. “I know what I wanna write about, I just haven’t started.”

“Yeah, Haru made me start before we left class.” Aito responded vaguely, strangely not taking the opportunity to lightheartedly complain about her friend.“It's lame, but I’m halfway done.” she shrugged, hopping onto the counter and watching like a cat on a windowsill, her tail even swaying side to side as she watched the ingredients mix. “Now we add the chocolate, right?”

“Roawr”

“Meow?” Aito perked up and looked to the floor of the kitchen, Jetsam not far behind as Aito jumped down from the counter to greet their new guest. “Oh! Look who’s here Jetsam!” Aito smiled, picking up a small black kitten who had wandered into the kitchen. “Oh wait, You’ve never met little Jiji, have you?”

“No?” Jetsam said, not wanting to get in trouble for being seen with a pet in the dorms but… but it was just the smallest little kitten he’s ever seen! And Aito was just bringing him to him! “H-hello there sweetheart.” Jetsam hummed, carefully putting his hand out for the kitten to sniff as he realized that the kitten didn’t seem to have eyes- a terrifying realization when in relation to Aito “Can he see anything?”

“No, I think it was a birth thing though.” Aito said, petting the kitten fondly before putting him down again. “He needs to walk around a bit, get a feel for the space.” she explained as the kitten stood still for a second before realizing that Aito wasn’t going to pick him up again and running off to go explore. If Jiji ran into a few walls, Aito ignored the sound, and so did Jetsam. “I think he got out through my vent, I'll have to close it next time.” Aito shrugged, finding the bag of chocolate chips and opening it.

“Why was the vent open in the first place?” Jetsam asked, worried about Aito’s answer, but deciding that it would be worse not to know.

“Sometimes Haru locks his door so he can destress.” Aito said, pouring the chips into one of the measuring cups. “I need to be able to stop that as quickly as humanly possible.” he explained, not going into detail as Jetsam nodded, not wanting any more details. Aito poured the chips into the mix and let Jetsam mix it for her, again taking her place on the counter to watch.

“You named the cat after the Jiji sticker on my wallet?” Jetsam asked, suddenly realizing how quiet Aito was being (at least compared to the insane amount of talking she normally did) and wanting him to talk again.

“Mhm.” Aito responded, watching the dough spin around in the bowl

“It’s from a show you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I could show you it some time.”

“I’d like that.”

Jetsam could taste the silence in the room as he put the mixer down. He thought he was scared of an over excited Aito, but a deathly silent one was twice as agonizing. He let Aito get the sheet pan and spray it down, but decided to let her play with a small portion of the dough as he quickly divided the rest into even little balls, all spread across the sheet, with a small space for Aito’s.

When he looked up to the girl on the counter, she had her back turned to him as she messed with the dough. Aito felt eyes on his back and looked up, noticing that Jetsam was finished, and held up the plate she was working on.

The cookie dough was formed into a crude little heart shape, rough around the edges, and still needing some work. “It looks good, Aito-kun.” Jetsam said, not sure how well it would turn out in the oven, but also not willing to put Aito down when she looked so contemplative. She turned around and put the plate back down on the counter, as if to let Jetsam see what she was doing.

“You know they found a body…” Aito said, barely above a whisper as she carefully formed the dough “on an Arabian Peninsula…” Jetsam felt his heart beat quicken with nervousness as he tried to hide the larger clouds of smoke billowing from his mouth. “It was an archeological dig and… they think she’s 4000 years old- the bones that is- she was… they think she was 18 when she died.” Good lord- Aito-kun always tells her stories in the worst way possible. “I’m writing my history report on her. Her bones were all messed up- way too thin for her to do much. She was severely disabled and would have needed around the clock care… but… but they also saw that she had… she had a lot of cavities, and her teeth were falling out and it didn’t make sense till…” Aito paused momentarily, as if trying to remember what his hands were doing before he continued the story. “till they realized that she… she just ate too many dates.” He giggled, sharpening the bottom of the heart as best as he could. “They just loved her so much… they loved her to death.” Aito paused again, looking over his handiwork and immediately started poking it again, less out of a want to shape it, and more out of a need to do something with his hands. “They always say survival of the fittest and- and I think they’re right!” He said, her voice rising a bit in volume. “Humanity’s made it this far because we found out that what makes us fit for survival is love and compassion and empathy and community and- and…” Aito just stood there, collecting her thoughts as he tapped a rhythm on the center of the cookie, as if trying to make it beat on its own. “And I like things better when they’re heart shaped.” She finally finished, still tapping the dough, but calming down a bit. “Can we… um”

“We can make them all heartshaped, if you want.” Jetsam offered, pointing to the rest of the cookies. Aito simply nodded and finally removed her hands from the dough, frowning a bit at the messy edges, but not willing to reshape it as she moved it from the plate to sheet pan.

Jetsam showed Aito how to make the dough into a shape that would actually end up as a heart after the oven, and together they finished the sheet, Jetsam slipping in into the oven and turning back to face Aito. Aito still looked tentative, swinging his legs over the side of the counter, but a bit more confident than before. “You said you still needed to start on your report?” Aito asked, and Jetsam nodded. Aito hopped down from the counter. “I’ll be back.”

Jetsam followed Aito to the door of the kitchen, but stayed put as Aito continued down the hall to the dorm rooms. Aito returned a bit later with a paper, pencil, copy of their history book, and a cozy looking blanket. “You should start now. I need a nap.” Aito said shortly, turning away from the kitchen and into the common room. Aito laid Jetsam’s supplies on the adjacent coffee table and let him sit down before wrapping herself in the blanket and laying her head across his lap.

“Is this my copy of the textbook?” Jetsam asked, recognizing some of the graffiti across the well used pages. “This was in my dorm room.”

“Mhm.” Aito hummed, looking over the pages as well.

“My dorm was locked?”

“Yeah,” Aito chuckled, sitting up a bit to explain himself. “But all the doors kinda suck. If you know what you’re doing, you can get into any dorm you want without a key.” He said, flipping a few pages and ignoring the nervousness on Jetsam’s face. “Your door in particular is a bit harder though, if it’s any comfort. You have to point the handle perfectly vertical and knee it really hard. Easy once you get used to it, but I don’t exactly go around telling people these things.” He mumbled, tossing his arms over Jetsam’s legs and resting his head on his arms.

“Thanks?” Jetsam shrugged, mildly uncomfortable with the fact that Aito could just break into his room whenever… maybe he should invest in a deadbolt…

“But what do you plan on writing your report on?” Aito asked, closing his eyes and very clearly not planning to listen to Jetsam’s report. So Jetsam gave a quick summary of his ideas till he was sure that Aito was out cold (luckily she fell asleep quickly) and continued working on his report in silence till the alarm on Aito’s phone went off.

Aito immediately jumped awake at the noise, but grumbled and complained as he turned the alarm off. Aito yawned like a cat and stepped over the couch like it was nothing- and seeing how often she disregarded the proper use of furniture, she probably saw it as such. Jetsam was still sorting his supplies, as well as his (mostly finished!) report when he heard Aito mumble something along the lines of “oh I hate this part” and the sound of running water. Jetsam immediately sprung to the kitchen, only barely making it to the door before Aito reached into the oven with his BARE HANDS and pulled the pan out, before throwing it on the counter and immediately putting her hands into the sink, under the running water. “I hate this I hate ovens I hate heat I hate-“ Aito rambled on and on about hating this and that about the stupid decision he just made, leaving Jetsam in completely stunned confusion.

“Why didn’t you just??? Use the mits???” Jetsam howled, running over to inspect Aito’s reddened hands.

“Mitts? You use those for cold things?” Aito asked, as if Jetsam was the moron here.

“You… they’re called oven mitts, Aito-kun!” Aito started at Jetsam, as if finally putting something together

“Oh…”

“Oh…?”

“Oven mitts are kitchen gloves.” Aito hummed, turning the water off and reaching into the drawer that the mitts were kept in, wincing a bit as his still red hands made contact.

“What?”

“Yeah ah… mama calls them kitchen gloves and… and ours are made of cloth.” Aito explained, pulling out the silicone glove. “I thought… you know, I thought these were two different things.”

And suddenly Jetsam understood why that prehistoric 18 year old was so important. Everyone will always not know something, it’s inevitable. Maybe it was something stupid like what oven mitts were, or something less stupid like living. Nobody knows anything. One day fire may burn cold, or the sun just not rise, or our blood may not pump… and all we could do is be kind, and caring, and compassionate.

“We have to take the cookies off the sheet.” Jetsam advised, patting Aito’s shoulder as she returned the mitt to it’s drawer. “They’ll keep baking if we don’t get them on a cooling rack.”

And so, in a more comfortable silence then before, Jetsam and Aito moved the cookies to the rack, pausing only at the last one, the one Aito had made first. Jetsam was right, the shape didn’t survive too well in the oven, the tops of the heart looking more like a single hill and the bottom having lost it’s point, and yet Aito moved it without hesitation onto the rack.

“I like it.” He said softly, making sure it fit onto the rack with all the rest. “It’s a little messed up, but it’s still heart shaped.”

#Ohhh I just love jetsam so much <333 #Sillie little guy <3 #jetsam kisa #aito takao #bnha oc comeback #knha // kimi no hero academia #Kori stories

[houseisekai]

House Isekai: Valentine’s Day Special

House Isekai Masterlist

----

[Mezame no Waltz - Gakkou Gurashi OST]

Yuki hummed happily as she stepped through the dorms of Garreg Mach Monastery, boxes of chocolates in her arms.

She finally arrived at the entrance to House Isekai’s classroom and opened the door.

Inside, Byleth, Megumi, Towa, Sharon, Doomguy, Sara, Angelica, and Cocytus turned to look at her.

(Megumi) “Yuki-chan?”

(Angelica) “Oh yikes, that’s a lotta boxes!”

Angelica, Sharon, Doomguy, and Towa walked over to Yuki and helped take some of the boxes.

Each one of them had a box yet Yuki still had a tower in her arms as she sat them down on the table.

(Yuki) “Whew, thank you! That was getting heavy!”

(Sara) “Are these chocolates?”

(Yuki) “Yup! I made these with Mercedes, Ashe, and Dedue! We made it for everyone in House Isekai!”

Yuki excitedly grabbed the boxes and handed them individually to the staff members.

(Byleth) “We appreciate it, but what’s the occasion?”

(Yuki) “Well, Fodlan seems to share the same calendar as most of us, and right now it’s February 14th! Which means its Valentine’s day! Normally these are given to the people you love in our world, so that’s why I’m giving it to everyone!”

(Byleth) “Valen...tine’s?”

(Cocytus) “AH, I BELIEVE I HAVE SOME KNOWLEDGE ABOUT THIS HOLIDAY. LORD AINZ HAS MULTIPLE ITEMS WITH THE NAME OF VALENTINES, RANGING FROM ARMOR TO WEAPONS WITH HEARTS ON THEM.”

(Sara) “...So, when you say hearts you mean-”

(Cocytus) “NOT ACTUAL HEARTS.”

(Sara) “Ok, figured. Just wanted to make sure, we never know with your group-”

(Towa) “A-Anyways! Yuki, thank you so much!”

(Megumi) “You still have a lot of boxes Yuki-chan, do you need our help?”

(Yuki) “Nope! I know you guys are really busy, so leave it all to me!”

(Sharon) “If that is what you wish. Again, thank you very much, Miss Yuki!”

Yuki saluted the staff and walked off with significantly less boxes in her arms.

Doomguy was the first one to open his box of chocolates.

It seemed fairly standard, heart shaped chocolates, but several appeared to be something similar to dog treats. They had the label “For Daisy.”

And more importantly, he had a note specifically for him.

“For Slayer: Thank you for being so nice, even though you can be really scary!”

Doomguy was seen smiling through his helmet as everyone else opened theirs.

“For Towa: Thank you for working so hard!”

“For Angelica: Thank you for not hitting on us!”

“For Cocytus: Thank you for teaching Kurumi how to fight!”

“For Sara: Thank you for looking out for us and Megunee!”

“For Sharon: Thank you for being House Isekai’s retainer!”

“For Byleth: Thank you for everything you’ve done for us!”

“For Megu-nee: Thank you for being the best teacher ever!”

Everyone looked back at the door smiling. Except Angelica.

(Megumi) “Yuki-chan...”

(Sara) “Hah, bet she’ll lighten someone’s day.”

(Angelica) “...Do I really hit on people that much?”

(Everyone) “Yes.”

Rest of House Isekai under the cut!

Abyss, Denizens of Nazarick’s Room

[Oath of Loyalty to the Supreme Being - OVERLORD OST]

After saying hello to Yuri and the other Ashen Wolves, they directed Yuki to where Ainz’s group was.

Ainz knocked on the door politely and waited.

There was no response for a minute before she heard something behind her.

Turning around, Demiurge was right in front of her, looking down.

(Demiurge) “Ah, Miss Takeya. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

(Yuki) “Valentine’s Day! I’m giving everyone some chocolates, including you Mister Demiurge!”

He took a moment to examine one of the boxes and sure enough, there were labels for each member, including Ainz.

Demiurge nodded and opened the door for her.

(Demiurge) “Right this way.”

As she followed Demiurge, she failed to notice that several members were now eyeing her suspiciously.

(Shalltear) “Oh, it’s her.”

(Aura) “Weird, Yuki’s got a lot of boxes.”

Demiurge stopped in front of Ainz, who was in the center of the room with Albedo, overlooking a war table of some sort.

Ainz looked at Demiurge, then at Yuki.

(Ainz) “I see we have a delivery.”

(Demiurge) “So it would seem, my lord.”

(Yuki) “Yup, I got a box for everyone here!”

This made Ainz curious. Yuki making something for them?

(Ainz) “Everyone, to the center of the room.”

Everyone in the room dropped what they were doing and followed Ainz’s instruction, getting on one knee.

Ainz grabbed a box and opened it up.

“For Ainz: Thank you for being a good friend to everyone, despite our differences!”

(Ainz) “Ah, a Valentine’s box.”

(Yuki) “Oh, you know what it is too, Ainz?”

(Ainz) Lots of Valentine’s events happened when I was playing Yggdrasil. Never cared too much about these since I never had a girlfriend or whatever but...eh. Made for fun collectables throughout the years. Why discard this one? “Yes, I do. Thank you very much.”

(Shalltear and Albedo) “WHAT?!”

[Shut up, lower life form - Overlord OST]

Ainz immediately noticed that they were frothing with rage.

(Ainz) Shit! That’s right, they think this is solely romantic! “AHEM! Do you have a problem with this gift, you two?”

(Albedo) “Of course, Lord Ainz! How could the man I love accept a gift so precious and romantic from...FROM HER OF ALL PEOPLE?!”

(Shalltear) “IT’S UNACCEPTABLE!”

(Ainz) You got to be fucking kidding me-

(Yuki) “Romantic? But these are friendship chocolates! I made everyone here friendship chocolates, including you two!”

(Ainz) Oh thank god.

Yuki grabbed their boxes and happily walked over to them.

Albedo and Shalltear looked at each other with an eyebrow raised, then opened the box.

Sure enough:

“For Shalltear: Thank you for protecting us when we’re in the Monastery!”

“For Albedo: Thank you for protecting us when we’re in battles!”

(Albedo & Shalltear) “...Oh.”

Demiurge, Aura, Mare, Sebas, Pandora’s Actor and the Pleiades got their chocolates as well.

“For Demiurge: Thank you for giving us the knowledge of Fodlan!”

“For Aura & Mare: Thank you for being someone the younger students of House Isekai can talk to!”

“For Sebas: Thank you for helping Sharon and the other staff out!”

“For Pandora’s Actor: Thank you for always making us laugh with your fantastic performances!”

“For the Pleiades: Thank you for keeping us safe!”

(Yuki) “Anyways, that’s all I wanted to do! Thank you for your time!”

Yuki bowed and quickly left the room.

Ainz slowly turned to Albedo and Shalltear, who started sweating.

(Ainz) “Of all the people to be skeptical of, you really chose Yuki...?”

S.E.E.S, Dormitory

[Iwatodai Dorm - Persona 3 OST]

(Minako) “Oh, hey Yuki-senpai!”

(Yuki) “Hello! Happy Valentine’s!”

Everyone turned to the door and saw Yuki unloading chocolates.

(Junpei) “Oh, sweet! Chocolates!”

(Yukari) “Jeez, the year flew by so fast!”

As Yuki handed the chocolates out, some of S.E.E.S spoke amongst themselves.

(Akihiko) “Can’t believe she’s the same age as us.”

(Mitsuru) “It is a bit weird, isn’t it?”

(Shinjiro) “Who cares how old she is? She’s more considerate than some people I know here.”

(Akihiko) “Hmph.”

(Koromaru) Bark!

(Aigis) “Yuki-chan, Koromaru wishes to have some chocolates.”

(Yuki) “Oh, sorry! I don’t think you can eat any of these, but don’t worry! We did make a tasty treat for you!”

Koromaru wagged his tail excitedly.

(Ken) “Thanks, Yuki-senpai!”

(Junpei) “I think this is the first time I’ve gotten chocolates from a girl-”

(Yukari) “Jeez, Stupei! Is that ALL you can think of right now?! This is obviously friendship chocolate!”

(Junpei) “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I was just makin’ an observation!”

(Fuuka) “A-Anyways, thank you so much!”

(Yuki) “Sure thing!”

(Minato) “...You could at least say thank you before stuffing your face, Minako.”

(Minako) “Huerh?Owhrite!Thamfkyu!”

Minato rolled his eyes and finally noticed the note written to him.

“For Minato: Thank you for being so nice!”

“For Minako: Thank you for helping Yuuri out with her problems!”

“For Fuuka: Thank you for helping me with tech problems!”

“For Junpei: Thank you for helping Kurumi how to fight better!”

“For Yukari: Thank you for teaching Miki how to use a bow!”

“For Mitsuru: Thank you for being smart to help us out in battle!”

“For Akihiko: Thank you for helping Kurumi train!”

“For Shinjiro: Thank you for teaching me how to cook!”

“For Aigis: Thank you for protecting us in battle!”

“For Koromaru: Thank you for playing with me!”

“For Ken: Thank you for your help with studying!”

(Yuki) “Okay, that’s it for this group, I have to go now!”

S.E.E.S waved her off as she left the dormroom.

(Minako) “Hah, being nice? That’s a first-”

(Minato) “Piss off.”

Investigation Team, Dormitory

[Signs of Love - Persona 4 OST]

(Teddie) “Hey, it’s Yuki-chan!”

(Yu) “Hey, what’s with the boxes?”

(Yuki) “Valentine’s!”

(Chie) “Jeez, that’s a lotta boxes! Here, lemme help you with that!”

(Rise) “Oh, that’s so nice of you, Yuki-senpai! Thanks so much!”

(Teddie) “Is...Is this a confession?! I don’t know what to say!”

(Yosuke) “It’s not a confession, idiot! It’s friendship chocolate!”

(Teddie) “Yikes! It was just a joke! Why do you sound so angry? What, do you have firsthand experience on getting nothing but friendship chocolate?”

(Yukiko) SNRK!

(Naoto) “Thank you for your gift, Yuki-senpai.”

(Kanji) “Cool, love chocolate! Thanks man!”

“For Yu: Thanks for always taking the time to help out Yuuri!”

“For Yosuke: Thanks for being like a big brother!”

“For Chie: Thank you for being like a big sister!”

“For Yukiko: Thank you for the gag glasses and making us laugh!”

“For Teddie: Thanks for always making me smile!”

“For Naoto: Thank you for spending time with Miki!”

“For Rise: Thanks for helping us with the Ball concert!”

“For Kanji: Thanks for teaching me how to knit cute animals!”

(Yuki) “Alright, I have a few more stops to make, catch you later!”

Everyone said goodbye as she walked out the room.

(Yosuke) “...Wait a second, when did you give Yuki gag glasses?!”

(Yukiko) “That would ruin the surprise!”

(Chie) “Ugh, great. I thought we got rid of all those by now...”

Phantom Thieves, Dormitory

[No More What Ifs (Instrumental) - Persona 5 Royal]

(Yuki) “Hello, Valentine’s delivery!”

(Akira) “Oh, it’s already Valentine’s?”

(Ann) “I didn’t even know Fodlan had one!”

(Makoto) “They most likely don’t, but they do share our calendar year. I suppose it makes sense for those from our world to celebrate it.”

(Ryuji) “Eff yeah, hand that stuff over!”

(Haru) “Oh, how thoughtful!”

(Yusuke) “Hm, it has been a while since I’ve had any food...”

(Futaba) “Dude, you get FREE food for being a student, how the heck have you not eaten?!”

(Morgana) “Hmph...Wish I could cook chocolate, then I could give mine to lady A-”

(Kasumi) “Thank you, Yuki-senpai!”

(Akechi) “...You know how I am and you’re still giving me chocolate? Ugh, fine whatever, hand it over.”

“For Akira: Thank you for being so fearless in fighting!”

“For Ann: Thank you for all the sweets you’ve shared with me!”

“For Ryuji: Thank you for teaching us how to run and fight better!”

“For Yusuke: Thank you for your wonderful paintings of our class!”

“For Morgana: Thank you for driving us all around Fodlan!”

“For Futaba: Thank you for playing video games with me and Kazuma!”

“For Makoto: Thank you for teaching me how to be a better student!”

“For Haru: Thank you for teaching us how to garden!”

“For Kasumi: Thank you for teaching us how to protect ourselves and jump out the way of danger!”

“For Akechi: Even though you don’t like a lot of us, me included probably, thank you for all that you’ve done for us!”

(Yuki) “Okay, 3 more groups to go, see you all around!”

(Akira) “How sweet of her.”

Akechi stared at his box, then shrugging, making no comment as he ate his chocolate.

Class VII, Dormitory

[Afterschool Hours - The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel OST]

(Emma) “Oh, hello Yuki!”

(Yuki) “Hello, I have Valentine’s chocolate for everyone!”

(Millium) “OOOH, CHOCOLATE! GIMME GIMME!”

(Fie) “Thanks.”

(Elliot) “Oh, thank you, Yuki!”

(Laura) “I believe this is the first time I’ve gotten something like this.”

(Machias) “It is very much appreciated.”

(Jusis) “You have my thanks.”

(Alisa) “Aww, thank you!”

(Gaius) “These don’t look half bad, thanks.”

(Crow) “Hell yeah, hand that good stuff over!”

(Emma) “Thank you!”

(Rean) “If you needed some help passing these out, we would’ve been glad to, you know!”

“For Rean: Thank you for everything that you do for House Isekai, don’t wear yourself out too much!”

“For Alisa: Thank you for teaching me how to use the bow!”

“For Elliot: Thank you for teaching us how to play music for the concert during the ball!”

“For Laura: Thank you for giving Kurumi combat lessons!”

“For Machias: Thank you for teaching Miki how to play chess!”

“For Fie: Thank you for teaching me how to nap anywhere!”

“For Gaius:  Thank you for teaching me how to paint!”

“For Emma: Thank you for teaching me how to be a better student!”

“For Jusis: Thank you for helping us out with the more physical chores!”

“For Millium: Thank you for always making us smile!”

“For Crow: Thank you for teaching me how to gamble!”

(Yuki) “Okay, two more to go! See you later!”

(Rean) “Crow...”

(Crow) “’Sup, Rean-bean?”

(Rean) “When did you teach Yuki-”

(Crow) “GOT TO GO.”

Konosuba Gang, Mess Hall

[You should have many companions - Konosuba OST]

Kazuma sat alone on the docks as he was fishing, Megumin, Darkness, and Aqua not too far behind, speaking to each other.

(Aqua) “Oh, hey Yuki!”

(Kazuma) “Yo.”

(Yuki) “I got chocolate for you four!”

(Megumin) “Oh, sweet!”

(Darkness) “Ah, thank you dear.”

(Kazuma) “Put it over here, yeah?”

Yuki nodded and gave everyone their chocolate.

“For Aqua: Thank you for your water tricks!”

“For Darkness: Thank you for always protecting us!”

“For Megumin: Thank you for casting the coolest explosions ever!”

“For Kazuma: Thank you for always being so nice to me. And to everyone when they really need it. I know you don’t get along with Kurumi well, but it means a lot that you try to.”

(Yuki) “Okay, I got 3 left! See you later guys!”

Kazuma didn’t say anything as he smiled, looking at the box.

He shook his head and continued fishing, putting a chocolate in his mouth.

(Kazuma) “...Being so nice, huh?”

School-Living Club, Dormitory

[Yasashisa ni Fureta Toki - Gakkou Gurashi OST]

(Yuuri) “Welcome back, Yuki-chan.”

(Kurumi) “Busy day, I take it?”

(Miki) “Are those boxes?”

(Yuki) “Yup, handed them out to everyone in House Isekai! I saved the best group for last!”

Yuki gave the final three boxes to them and smiled.

(Yuki) “Happy Valentine’s!”

“For Yuuri: Thank you for getting us through the hard times we had in our world, and for never failing to look out for us, even when it hurts yourself to..”

“For Kurumi: Thank you for protecting the three of us, from last world and even now.”

“For Miki: Thank you for becoming my friend, and for joining the School-Living Club.”

Yuuri put the chocolate down and smiled. She gave Yuki a hug, which Kurumi joined in.

(Kurumi) “Come on, not gonna join in?”

(Miki) “I-I think I’m good, thank you!”

(Kurumi) “GET OVER HERE-”

(Miki) “WAH!?-”

Kurumi reached over and had Miki join in the group hug.

Miki was flustered for a moment before just sighing and embracing her fate.

Yuki had a tear running down her eye as she hugged them back.

(Yuki) “W-Why...am I crying? We’re all together...So...Why...?”

(Everyone) “...”

Yuuri, Kurumi, and Miki hugged each other tighter as sniffles from Yuki were beginning to grow louder.

Megumi looked through the door and wanted to say something, but heard a voice behind her.

(Sara) “...You haven’t told Yuki what happened to you, yet?”

(Megumi) “...No. I’ve been trying to find the right time.”

She smiled at seeing her students safe. Even though she didn’t know Miki all too well, she was glad they had found another survivor.

That means there were still people alive other than them. There had to be.

(Sara) “Well, I won’t tell you when to speak to them but, if you don’t act, then you may lose that chance forever. Not many people get a second chance like you.”

Megumi stared at her arm where the infected’s bite used to be. It was thanks to Aqua that she didn’t turn.

(Megumi) “...Right.”

Sara smiled and hit Megumi’s shoulder.

(Sara) “Come on, let’s grab a drink together. We can complain about our single lives together this Valentine’s.”

(Megumi) “Huh? But that’s never been an issue for me-”

(Sara) “Tonight it will!”

Megumi sighed but smiled, it was going to be a lively night.

Yuki opened the door and saw Megumi walk off with Sara. She wanted to say something to her but instead just smiled.

(Yuki) “I can speak with Megunee later...”

Nodding, she walked through the dorms, humming to herself. Her Valentine’s day plan was a success.

Give something to the friends she loved.

[Harmonize Clover - Gakkou Gurashi OST]

The chit-chat on the way home It's girl's secret, right Even if the 5 o'clock chime rings We talk enough yet, I wonder why?

The small four-leaf clover Fu... swaying in the breeze Hey, of course, yes, of course Hope that tomorrow will be sunny

The road I walked with everyone "The usual place" is the watchword Ah... the sheep cloud that looks like going to be burnt Dazzling Some day, days like these Even if the memories fade Hey... A lot of smile I feel like to give it now

====

Guess this kinda gives away how I feel on Valentine’s, huh? 

To me, Valentine’s is a day where you give appreciation to the people you love. Friends, family, whoever means a lot to you.

So, this is kinda my lame way of saying I appreciate everyone who follows this blog.

If it weren’t for you guys, I wouldn’t have been able to make a blog of this caliber, write something that means so much to me, or even just have fun stupid ideas with ya’ll.

I’ve been writing on tumblr for a long while, but I think this is the first valentine’s where I’ve written something from the heart.

Being able to appreciate House Isekai, something I hold dear to me, with ya’ll.

I hope you all can appreciate this too, with many more posts to come, especially Shadowbringers!

Thanks for your support, love ya guys.

- Chris

#House Isekai #yuki takeya #megumi sakura #sara valestein #House Isekai Timeline #byleth eisner #minato arisato #minako arisato #akira kurusu #yu narukami #ainz ooal gown #rean schwarzer #doomguy #satou kazuma

[planetsam]

“Look if you don’t want her she’s going to the pound,” Wyatt says, “she’s too fat to be of any good on the farm.”

“Do you need to think of the most dickish thing to say? Or does it just naturally come out of your mouth?”

Wyatt’s face screws up but Alex snatches the leash from him before he can say anything. He’s done listening to assholes with the last name Long. On the other end of the leash Buffy regards him with a mix of wariness and disgust. It’s more tempting than Alex would like to admit to shove it back at Wyatt, but his grip tightens on the leash.

“Glad you got a souvenir,” Wyatt sneers and storms off.

Alex tries not to rub the most recent addition to his scar collection and instead looks down at the dog. Buffy whines loudly and the sound matches whatever’s going on his recently repaired gut. Emotionally at least. Physically he’s been given the almost all clear, which for him is good enough. He kneels down and looks at the beagle who backs away.

“Yeah, I get that,” Alex tells her, “do you remember me?” He holds a hand out for her to sniff but she turns her snout up, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He straightens up. Buffy looks in the direction she came from but Wyatt’s long gone. Alex has no idea what to do with a dog, much less a beagle who seems to like him about as much as her owner actually did, but standing in the road with her leash he realizes they’re in the same boat. Both left standing there, wondering what the hell they’re supposed to do now. When he glances down again, Buffy is looking up at him. She’s still reproachful but she hasn’t run and Alex is at a point where he’ll take what he can get.

“You wanna go home or should we go to the pet store first?” He asks. She perks up slightly at that, “pet store it is,” he says, “come on.”

* Since losing his leg Alex has been in several hand to hand situations, gotten kidnapped, discovered aliens and blown up a handful of buildings. He’d say he’s good with his prosthetic. Some days he uses his cane but it’s far and few between. He’s good but he hasn’t had a consistently strong pressure yanking his cane arm walk after walk. And there have been so many fucking walks. Buffy is overweight and though her diet is the main thing, walking helps. It helps one of them at least.

“Buffy, come on,” he says, “heel.”

Buffy huffs, lowers her body and digs in her paws.

Her blatant disregard makes the military man in him seethe. He doesn’t know how one beagle is more difficult to control than than a group of soldiers, but here they are. Buffy does not respect the chain of command. Or maybe she just doesn’t respect him. Alex thinks he’d be used to the universe ignoring what he wants but the manifestation of it in an overweight beagle left behind by a man who manipulated him so openly is a fresh wound on his ruined ego.

“Buffy,” he says.

Buffy puffs herself up and erupts into her signature barks. How such a loud noise can come out of such a small creature is beyond him. Buffy spends a lot of her time napping and laying on her back, but when she gets going it’s impossible to stop or ignore. Alex is used to people staring at him on the street. He’s learned to dismiss the judgement about things he knows he can’t change. For the first time though he gets it. He’s pretty sure he’d cross the street too if he saw what was happening.

“Buffy—“ he starts. She keeps going crazy, “Buffy come on,” he’s got nothing else so he scoops her up again. Immediately she stops barking, “seriously?” He sighs, “you know we’re both supposed to be walking,” Buffy looks over her shoulder at him, “God, fine,” he shifts the weight in his arms and starts walking, “I need the workout anyway.”

“Aren’t you both supposed to be walking?”

Alex turns around to see Michael standing there looking confused. He’s not close enough to hear what he just said, but the fact that it’s the first thing that comes to his mind makes Alex’s chest tight. Buffy gives Michael a look of complete disdain. Michael raises his eyebrows at the dog’s reaction, though Alex is fairly certain Michael is just glad to have an excuse not to look at him. Not that he can fully blame him, not with everything that’s happened recently.

“When did you get a dog?” Michael asks.

“A few days ago,” Alex says, “it was me or the pound,” he explains, “I wasn’t looking to get one.”

“Right,” Michael says slowly.

“Her name’s Buffy,” Alex volunteers. Michael finally meets his eye, arching his eyebrows at him.

“You sure you weren’t looking to get a dog?” Michael asks. Alex looks at him questioningly, “if I had to guess what you would name a dog, Buffy’s pretty high on the list—“

The truth smacks him across the face. Buffy squirms in his arms and he’s all too glad to put her down, even though that means he’s forced to figure out something else to do with his hands. Something that doesn’t involve punching things. All he can do is laugh bitterly at how stupid he is. Laugh and pretend that he doesn’t see the alarm on Michael’s face.

“You okay?” Michael asks. 
“I’m good,” Alex says, shaking his head, “I just realized how much of an idiot I am,” he looks at Michael who looks confused still, “Buffy was Forrest’s dog,” he explains, “he left her behind,” he sighs, “I thought the dog was real.”

“She looks real to me,” Michael says.

“He named her Buffy,” Alex retorts. Michael winces, “like I said, I’m an idiot.”

They both look at Buffy who gives them a look back that says they are both idiots. Alex doesn’t think either of them would disagree after the things that have happened lately. But realizing that there’s a good chance the dog was adopted just to manipulate him is salt in that wound. Not by Forrest necessarily but by someone in Deep Sky.

“Your dog seems to agree,” Michael points out.

“Shit,” Alex mutters looking down at the beagle, then he looks at Michael, “what do you know about microchips?
 “What do I know about what?” Michael asks blankly. 
“I need your help,” Alex says.

It’s got nothing to do with what just happened but Michael goes serious and nods. Alex tries not to be affected by it. Or by how Michael seems committed to being open after months of them lying to each other. 
“Whatever you need,” he says.

There’s a weight to his words that lasts a moment before Buffy decides right there is a good place to go potty.

* “Up you go,” Alex says and gets Buffy onto the table, “good girl.”

Buffy huffs at the compliment but when she spots Kyle she immediately starts wagging her tail. Because Kyle has that effect. He grins and scratches her ears as Buffy rolls onto her back. Alex looks over at Michael who seems surprised by this turn of events. 
“Good thing he wasn’t trying to seduce you,” Michael says, “she’s already fallen for it.”

Kyle looks at him sharply and Michael realizes his mistake with a swear but Alex waves him off. Whether or not there were genuine feelings is an issue for another day. Or another lifetime, if he gets his way. Thankfully neither Michael nor Kyle have made the mistake of suggesting he get rid of the dog in case Deep Sky is spying on him with her. Kyle picks up the device and scans Buffy as best he can until Alex reaches out to help hold her steady. They find the first microchip easily enough. It’s just surprising how easily they also find the second one.

“They put a tracker in the dog?” Kyle shakes his head.

Alex agrees. It seems stupid with all the messed up shit they’ve done, but looking at Buffy with her upturned nose and disdainful glares and imagining her being picked out and named and then used like that makes him ache. Especially if it was in the pursuit of him. It’s not the only thing that’s wrong but Alex has always had a soft spot for animals and it’s the first thing that makes his throat tighten.

“We have to get them out of her.”

“We will,” Michael says, “first lemme make sure they don’t work.”

“It’s not going to hurt her, is it?” Alex asks as Michael reaches out.

Kyle and Michael trade looks and Alex knows his voice sounds odd but the dog’s been through enough. Especially on his behalf. A part of him thinks giving her away might be best but if Deep Sky is still using her then who knows. He could give her away and bring more people into this.

“Alex,” Michael comes around the table and stands next to him, doesn’t say anything when Alex shifts back, “look, it’s not gonna hurt her. I’m going to just disable them. We’ll figure out how to get them out of her after.”

Buffy rolls over and gives Kyle’s hands a lick before she reluctantly belly crawls to Alex. She doesn’t look thrilled about having to come to him, but she sits in between him and Michael and looks at Michael with her usual disdain. It’s not full on affection but Alex appreciates the defense all the same. He looks up at Michael.

“Okay, do it,” he says.

Michael puts his hands on Buffy’s shoulders and focuses. Alex waits for her to yelp or do anything but she just glares at Michael like this is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever been subjected to. He pulls his hands back and blinks rapidly, going a little pale. It’s one of the effects of whatever they did to him, his powers are there but using them takes more effort than it did. No-one knows when they’ll fully return.

“Kyle get the—“

Kyle gets the bin just in time for Michael to puke in it. Buffy flattens her ears and decides she’s done enough comfort one day. She trots back over to Kyle and flops on her back, bracing a paw against his arm so he has maximum access to her belly. Before Alex can think about what he’s doing his hand settles on Michael’s shoulder as he heaves. It’s another sign of how badly he’s fucked up and Michael consenting to it under duress doesn’t make him feel any better. But he forces himself to hold onto Michael’s shoulder as he empties his stomach.

“Shit that sucks,” he mutters, unthinkingly wrapping his hand around Alex’s elbow. Alex doesn’t let go of his shoulder as he wipes the back of his mouth. He looks up at Alex and gives a quick, shaky smile, “I disabled the chips on both, they’re dead,” he says.

“Thank you.”

Michael nods, looking more relieved than Alex is comfortable with at the words. He tears his eyes away to look at the love fest going on between Buffy and Kyle. It’s honestly hard to say whose fallen more for who. Alex pulls away and tries not to focus on how cold his elbow and palm feel without Michael’s signature heat.

“Now we just gotta get them out,” Michael says.

Kyle seems to be aware they are all looking at him intently. He opens his mouth to reject whatever they’re going to say and Buffy whines for him to continue the belly rubs. It’s written all over his face that of all the ways he saw his life going, this definitely wasn’t one of them. He looks down at Buffy.

“Am I still gonna be your favorite?” He asks her.

Buffy huffs.

“I think that’s a yes,” Michael says.

* “Your back hurting?”

Alex winces at the question, he thought he had done a good job of hiding it. The concern is there in Michael’s voice and it’s not well hidden at all. Alex looks over at him, seeing the guilt in his eyes.

“It’s from picking up Buffy,” he says, “she’s having trouble getting on the furniture.”

It’s almost laughable how furniture is so complicated in his house. Alex never thought the height of a seat could make such a difference in someone’s life. The perfect height for him though is apparently too much for his still overweight beagle. His best solution is to pick her up but for all her laziness Buffy isn’t good at staying put. It’s not overly painful but it’s not ideal while he’s still healing.

“Oh,” Michael says.

“She’ll get better,” Alex says, “she just has to lose some weight,” he rolls his shoulder, “and I have to heal.”

“She can’t stay off the furniture?” Michael asks. Alex glares, “just asking!” Michael says holding up his hands, “I never had a pet. I had a foster home where I wasn’t allowed on the couch once, it sucked.”

Alex doesn’t know how Michael can stand to be so casual about things like that. Mentioning something so devastating hasn’t even interrupted his rhythm in eating his fries.

“I’m sorry,” Alex says quietly. Michael acknowledges it with a quick nod, “I want her to be able to go where she wants,” he explains.

“Except maybe the bunker,” Michael points out.

“Okay maybe the bunker,” Alex agrees.

“What about stairs?” Michael asks, “they make stairs for dogs right?” His brow furrows, “your furniture is custom heigh though, right?” Then he perks up, “I can make her stairs.”

Alex almost chokes on his water. Michael’s response to everything was to throw his tools in his bunker and seal it up. Alex isn’t even sure he has the materials to build dog stairs. But it’s the first time he’s seen Michael look excited about building something.

“Are you okay with that?” He asks, “I can pay you.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael says, “if it gets Buffy to stop constantly stink eyeing me we’re good.”

“Just tell me how much they cost,” Alex says after a moment’s consideration.

He texts Michael the asked for measurements.

Michael doesn’t want to be alone with him and Alex can’t blame him. He doesn’t really want to be alone with Michael either. Not yet. It’s not until he hears the truck in the driveway that he even thinks more about it. The truck pulls in, parks and Michael gets out before Buffy starts going crazy. Alex feels a rush of affection for her.

“It’s Michael,” he says, “and he’s already almost inside.”

Buffy still puffs up like she’s done her job and Alex scratches her ears before he opens the door. Michael is standing there with two stairs in either hand and a black bag slung over his shoulder.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Alex says, his mouth dry, “of course,” he says, “come in.”

“Thanks,” Michael says. Buffy looks at him and howls. Michael glares, “the hat isn’t negotiable,” he tells her firmly, even as he takes it off and sets it aside.

Michael puts one of the stairs by the couch and hands Alex the other for his bed. Alex puts it down where it is and follows Michael to the back part of the house. Michael drops the bag and picks out a few tools before moving to the trap door.

“What’s all of this?” Alex asks.

“Eh I could tell you didn’t mean it when I said Buffy wasn’t allowed in the bunker,” he says, “so I put something together.”

“You built her an elevator?”

Michael shrugs and goes pink around the ears.

“Yeah I mean I want her to feel welcome,” he says, “and if you gotta hide I know you aren’t leaving her behind.”

Alex looks over at Buffy whose stink eyeing the stairs like she’d prefer to be carried. He wouldn’t leave her behind. He wouldn’t leave Michael behind either but just being alone in the same room is a lot. He doesn’t want to push this. He doesn’t know if Michael feels that as well.

“Can I get you anything?” He offers, “I have lemonade?”

Michael hesitates for a moment. Alex wonders if he’s read this wrong before Michael nods and Alex finds he can breathe again.

“That sounds good,” Michael says, “thanks.”

#michael guerin #alex manes #Buffy manes #Buffy the beagle #malex #michael x alex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #bc we all know where Buffy the princess belongs #fight me

[vanchlo]

Gatsby (Green Eyes / 3)

Read the first part, here, and the second part, here! :-)

Blurb Synopsis: With a few months of teaching under your belt, at times you find yourself struggling. Luckily, your boyfriend and teaching colleague, Harry, is there to help you by offering advice or a comforting kiss. Although you’ve only been dating for a few months, you find that there's something special about this man.

Genre: Teacher Harry, fluff, and romance.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 10.4k words, whoops 

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Happy Together by The Turtles (click to listen) 

Your mind is muddled with thoughts. Remember to send this email today. Make sure to put this in so-and-so’s mailbox. Don’t forget to send that birthday card in the mail. Can’t misplace that sheet you have to make copies of tomorrow for an assignment. Enter those grades. Grade those tests, and those papers. They weren’t wrong, you think, when they said the work of a teacher never ends. As you sit at your desk, the world war two novel you’ve been trying to read lately stares back at you from the sidelines, adding another stick to your pile. A rather massive pile, at that. You knead your temple as the blinking cursor awaits your words on the lit screen. Words that you don’t have yet, and aren’t sure when you will. You’ve found it more and more difficult to send the hard emails home to parents, and even after three and a half months under your belt of teaching, it hasn’t gotten any easier. 

“What’d I say ‘bout bitin’ yer nails?” 

Breaking your stare off with your computer, your eyes jump to your door where you find Harry standing there. 

Placing your chin in your propped hand, you sigh, “I’m sorry.”

“Here, ya look like ya need sumthin’ else t’ chew on,” he murmurs, taking a step into your classroom. Something leaves his hand to fly into the air, skidding to a stop in front of you on your desk. At the sight of the shiny gold wrapper marked by the words, Twix, you return to his eyes with a smile. “Now, wha’s got ya so nervous, bird?”

“I’m trying to write an email home, and not a happy one.”

“Ah, I hate havin’ t’ write t’ose meself, they’re neva easy. Can I help?” he inquires, taking slow steps into your classroom. When your laptop sounds with a chime!, the alert for a new email, your eyes leave his tall figure. 

His question goes unanswered on accident with the appearance of the email loading before your eyes. The words start to trickle into your mind, and with their absorption, the heaviness felt in your heart grows. 

“Hullo? Anybody home in there?” Harry laughs, his feet stopping in front of your desk. You don’t answer, and you barely see him lean to the side to look at you. “Hey, wha’s tha matta?” he questions, his tone suddenly changing. Gulping, no words come to you as the ones on your screen shoot icy fear into your veins. Your name falls from his mouth as he walks over to you, stopping behind you. 

“I have to be observed,” you groan, your face falling into your hands. “Later this week,” you finish with a whimper, your shoulders sagging. 

“Oh it’ll be okay, love. We all have it done once a year, ‘s only t’ benefit ya. ‘s fer feedback. Ya don’t gotta worry. Principal’s observation ‘s at tha end o’ tha year,” he tells you, his soothing voice turning irritating at the last part. You respond with a whine, but you find that you can’t remain upset with him when his arms come around you. “Ya’ll do great, bird. Don’t fret. I know things have been stressful lately fer ya, so try not t’ let it botha you.”

“But it does. I already feel like I’m not doing a good enough job, and then somebody has to observe me, ugh. I’m going to be so nervous that I’ll probably screw up even more,” you exhale, hiding away from your fears, but soon you feel your chair spin around. Tearing your hands away from your face, you open them to find Harry squatting in front of you. 

The mere sight of the dimples in his cheeks and the glint in his eye eases the tension felt throughout your body. A second later, you’re unsure of that when your sight graces the ebony dress shirt rolled up his taut arms, and the mustard slacks hugging his thighs. Yeah, there are a whole lot of reasons to make you feel tense around this man, and on the other hand he makes you feel at ease. Talk about confusing, when one thing has both effects on you. Ugh. 

“Yer too hard on yerself, birdy. Ya gotta stop it, I don’t like seein’ me girl feel so down,” he hums, his thumb painted in cracking hot pink nail polish tapping your nose. Even just the thought of how he’ll let you paint his nails the next time he comes over to your house makes you feel better. By now, he doesn’t even bat an eye when you ask him, and by the look of his battered nails, anticipation grows inside of you at the thought. “Now, why don’t ya try t’ forget ‘bout tha observation, and lemme help ya write tha email t’ tha parent? Then we can leave and ya can come ova t’ mine, and I can cook ya a nice dinna.” 

His lips split into a smile in front of you, sparking one on your own. “Has anybody ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend in the world?”

“Hmmm, I dunno, maybe. I can’t recall, but I wouldn’t complain t’ hear dat a few more times,” Harry smiles, leaning forward to surround your lips with his. Yours curl into a smile as his fingers dance across your cheek and into your hair. 

“Harry, the email,” you begin after breaking the kiss. 

“Shh, lemme have a kiss first. ‘s been too long,” he almost laughs, pressing his lips back to yours.

“I saw you in sixth hour in the copier room and you got one then,” you interrupt, knowing that you’re getting on his nerves. 

“Too long,” is all he says impatiently, replacing his lips on top of yours. 

Relaxing, you move yours together with his and soon find your hands running along his cheeks prickly with facial hair. They run down the expanse of his warm neck, his tamed beard soon fading away. Pads of your fingers collide with the chain of his necklace hidden under his shirt, signaling you’re almost there. You let a grin slip, impeding the kiss, when you can feel his taut chest under his button up. Finally.

“Like what yer findin’?” he asks, laughing against your mouth. 

“Mmmhmm,” you answer slyly, peeking open your eyes to find his on yours, mere inches away. “Maybe we should write dat email now. Don’t wantcha gettin’ too carried away now,” Harry hums pulling away, much to your disappointment. “No, yer not gonna get me with tha pout again, so dontcha try it now.” He wags a finger at you as his words play on his face. Feeling risky, you reach forward and bite at the tip of it, smelling the cinnamon lotion he has a bottle of on his desk. 

“Ya betta watch it, bird!” Harry chuckles, the smile taking grasp of him now, as well as the laugh that sings to your ears. 

“Or else what?” you reply, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

“Open yer email befo’ ya convince me with that adorable face o’ yers.”

You ignore him and continue to stare at him, happiness and longing showing in your eyes. You’re certain that he sees it too, you’re just not sure what he’s going to decide to do with it. His bottom lip comes between his teeth as his green eyes stare into yours, him standing only a step away from you. Although it’s the slightest movement, his hands starts to trail from the back of your chair. 

“Birdy,” he begins with a warning, shaking his head at you, that song leaving his strawberry lips again. Suddenly, you wish he was wearing a tie today so you could grab a hold of it and pull him in by it, but alas he’s without one today. “Don’ test me.”

His words are hypocritical, meaning one thing as his face tells you another story entirely. Somehow, they have the opposite effect on you, egging you to go further with the teasing. You enjoy pushing his buttons, another thing that he knows far too well by now. Your fingers sitting limp on your legs itch to touch him, and roam his body. Those curls, his bearded cheeks, that muscular chest, or those thick arms. Maybe even all of him. 

“We can have a good snog at me house tha sooner we get dis done,” Harry cautions, only worsening the pout forming on your lips. He reacts to it promptly, with that lip-biting returning, and his fist coming to his mouth. As if he has to refrain from saying, or doing, something. 

“Why can’t I just have one more now? It won’t hurt,” you plead, letting your chin fall a tad, allowing you to look up at him through your lashes. 

“‘m in real trouble with ya, aren’t I, birdy? Go’mme wrapped ‘round yer li’l finga like there’s no t’morrow, dontcha?” Harry teases, slowly leaning in, his arms bending at his wrists where they lay planted to your chair’s armrests. 

“Yeah, just the way you like it,” you note aloud, the anticipation buzzing in your gut as he draws near. 

“Yer right ‘bout dat, darlin’. Couldn’t say no t’ ya if I tried, thinkin’ that might ge’mme in trouble one o’ these days,” Harry finishes with a snicker before the taste of oranges meets your lips, and his beard is tickling your skin. Just the way you like it. 

* 

“Ravioli or pasta?” you hear float from the kitchen. 

It’s a wonder you hear him as your thoughts are consumed by his bookshelves. Although you’ve been to his place several times now, you’re still enamored by trying to familiarize yourself with the items he chose to live with him. 

The acoustic Taylor sitting in the corner on a stand. The Monet prints dotting his walls, along with those of The Stones, The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, and Pink Floyd. The pink ukulele hung on his wall that he made you laugh with while playing a rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow the first time you came over. You swear that his blankets are the coziest and warmest. He also makes the best fires in the fireplace, even making s’mores for dessert the first time you came over, making quite the impression. The last time, you had devoured his record collection, flipping through it and playing the few that interested you at the time. You even like the silly napkins with sayings on them that he has in the kitchen. Now, you’ve returned to his book collection that seems to grow by a few each time you’re here. 

“Why do you have Shel Silverstein here, but not at school?” you call out to him, feeling the change in texture of the book spines, the tip of your finger ghosting over them. 

“‘Coz tha’s a copy from when I was li’l. Now, ya didn’t answer me question. Which d’ya want me t’ make, bird?” he replies gently, his deep voice carrying down the hall from the kitchen. 

Once again, his words drift by unnoticed as you carefully remove a copy of a novel that catches your eye, The House on Mango Street. You’ve found it before on his shelves at school, and the cover has always enraptured you, but you’ve never found the time to pick it up. Turning it over, your eyes flit over the description on the back of the thin book. 

“Hey, ‘m talkin’ t’ ya, birdy,” a voice murmurs, their words dancing across your neck with a tickle. “Tryin’ t’ figure out what t’ make us fer dinna.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just looking at this book. I’ve always meant to see what it’s about,” you comment, turning your head back ever so slightly, but you don’t need to do that to know he’s there. His arms have surrounded your waist and his beard tickles against your temple, lips soon dotting kisses along that space. 

“‘s okay. Ah, so this ‘s where yer always runnin’ off t’ when ya come ova. Got meself a book worm fer a girlfriend, I like it. Findin’ anythin’ good? Ya know ya can borrow whateva ya want, love. I know ya’ll take good care o’ it,” Harry coos in between feathery pecks he plants down the side of your face. “‘s a good one too, bird. I teach it every year. Tha students enjoy it too. Ya might come t’ teach it too, I think, since we’re both teachin’ American Lit. this semester,” Harry comments, soon his nose making an appearance tickling your cheek. The words on the back of the book were beginning to blur before your eyes, but they’re forgotten altogether when his fingers brush against your belly, clasping together there. 

“Thank you. I suppose I should read it already then.”

“Yeah, ‘m surprised ya haven’t already. Borrow it and take yer time with it, ya’ll enjoy it. ‘s a bit sad tho’ from what I rememba. Now, ravioli or pasta? Was thinkin’ a salad on tha side, marinated chicken, and sum berries,” he finishes, the safety his arms provide you with soon fleeting. Looking over your shoulder, he walks away and back to the kitchen, noting that he needs to get the pasta water boiling. 

As your eyes trail to his bum round in his gray jogging shorts, a cheeky answer begs at your lips instead. He pipes up again with an inquisitive ‘well’ and your response falls from your lips, “Ravioli, please.”

He hums a confirmation from his new perch down the hall, the sounds of cupboards opening and things being jostled around soon following. The rest of the book’s summary passes your eyes before you set it down on the arm of the brown sofa, forgotten as soon as he had walked in. Passing Harry’s favorite reading chair in the corner accompanied by a tall lamp, you tiptoe through the narrow hallway marked by framed pictures on the walls. You hear his soft singing as you round the corner, happening upon his towering figure to your left, standing at the stove. Taking a page from his book, you slide across the wooden floor in your socks, quickly capturing him with your arms. 

“Boo!” you whisper into his ear, feeling him jump in your arms. 

“Don’t scare me like that, coulda burned me hand,” he warns, but when you chance a look at the pot of water below him, you find him to be a fibber. 

“You don’t even have the gas on yet, silly,” you murmur in argument, dragging your nose along his freckled neck, paler from the winter months. 

“So? ‘m tryin’ t’ cook here,” he argues, although terribly, because a giggle escapes his candy-like lips. Ones you very much would like to kiss right now, and perhaps taste, and nibble. Nodding into his shoulder, your hands unravel to explore the toned expanse of his stomach under his shirt. “Bird,” he says firmly, the cracking sound of the salt grinder following his words. 

“I’m just helping you cook,” you explain feebly, brushing the pad of your thumb against his wispy happy trail. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember from the times at the beach where his tattoos are, because they don’t feel any different to the rest of his skin. The fern leaves, the butterfly, and then the swallows below his collarbone. 

“Yer pushin’ me buttons again. Ya know I don’ like it,” Harry grumbles, trapped within your grasp when he turns to grab the package of refrigerated ravioli from the counter. 

“I’m sorry, can’t I just hug my boyfriend?” you whine, feeling your voice catch at that last word, even after two months. 

“Don’t play that game with me, go read yer book or sumthin’. Catch up on sum gradin’, you’ll thank yerself later fer doin’ so, and me.”

“You’re no fun,” you whimper, hands stilling amongst his toned abdomen and soon returning to your body. Cheekily, you give in to your temptations and pinch his bum hastily, running off with a giggle. 

“Birdy!” Harry calls after you, trying to hide the laugh in his voice, but you’re doing enough laughing for the both of you. You don’t hear the sound of his booming footsteps following you, and so you plop onto his sofa with a relieving sigh. “Remind me not t’ give ya more than two glasses o’ wine, ya get all weird afta two.” 

“I do not!” you exclaim, pressing the power button on the remote for his tv. 

“Ya do too! Grabbin’ me bum and gettin’ all handsy unda me shirt,” he contends with a scoff that dissolves into a titter. You respond with a ‘hmmph’ loud enough for him to hear as your head hits the velvet pillow at one end of the sofa, body splaying out to cover the rest. 

“I’ll say it again, you’re no fun!”

“Oh, give it a rest!” is all Harry says disbelievingly, meanwhile you pout as you try to immerse yourself in an episode of The Simpsons. 

It’s one of those Halloween specials, you’re not sure which one as there were several, even though Halloween was very nearly two months ago. Turning up the volume, you try to drown out the sound of pots banging together, and packages crinkling. You even attempt to mask the sound of his voice, the wine buzz securing you in your own little bubble, and a lonely one at that. 

“Babeeee,” you finally hear, along with the soft padding of his slippers nearing you. “Don’ be a crab, y’know I don’ like bein’ botha’d when ‘m cookin’ sumthin’ hot. Don’ want t’ get eitha o’ us burnt. I’d do tha same if I had kids and they were ‘round,” he mumbles, his footsteps coming to a pause, and so does your heart at the sound of his words. 

“Me li’l birdy,” Harry coos in a sing-song voice, the whine of the ancient wood floors marking his arrival. His calloused fingertips along your forehead and through your hair are difficult to ignore, as are his sweet lips smelling of Roscato against your skin. “Don’ be upset with me please, ya know I can’t handle it. Ya wanna come help me cook? You can chop up tha salad if ya’d like, well as long as yer hands are okay afta those glasses o’ wine.”

“Nah-ah,” you deny, rubbing your face with your hand, growing sleepy from the alcohol. “You don’t want my help, and I’m all dizzy.”

“I do want yer help, that’s why I asked. Hmm, dizzy, are you?” he queries, drawing your attention upwards to where he kneels beside the sofa, head hanging over yours. “Does this make ya dizzy too?” he grins upside down for you, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth. A smile hints at yours after the kiss ends, him raising an eyebrow. 

You shake your head ‘no’ and he clucks his tongue, dipping in for another kiss, this one longer than the last. You’d choose to grow dizzy from his intoxicating lips over anything else, again and again. The bite of the alcohol follows the sweetness of the white wine he had poured you both glasses of, his still being nursed in the kitchen. The chill to his pillowy lips is shocking against your warm lips, but it’s forgotten when your fingers drift to his hair. You’ve only gotten a taste of his scrumptious top lip before he pulls away, having kissed you in an odd way, upside down. 

“Ya still upset with me?” he breathes against your lips, rubbing his nose against yours ever so slightly, a smirk edging at his lips. 

“I won’t be after one more kiss, and a cuddle,” you insist, testing your limits, but by now you’re fairly certain what you can get away with. Sometimes it surprises you how much, from stealing his favorite pen from his desk, grabbing his butt in the breakroom, knicking a sweater from his closet the last time you were over, or spamming him with texts of songs he wouldn’t ever listen to but he still does, for you. 

  “Alrighty then, c’mere, birdy,” he smiles before he melts against you in a kiss, once again. 

Soon, he’s scooping his arms under your legs and settling you on his lap, sinking into the sofa. Your head finds a home below his collarbone, legs draped across his lap and your bum hanging off the side of it. 

“I forgot ya get all tired on me afta alcohol. I gotta rememba t’ only dole it out when tha sun ‘s still up,” he giggles, the sound reverberating around in his broad chest under his Paul McCartney & Wings shirt. His fingers surround one of your hands, holding it to his chest as his other cups your waist where he holds you against him. 

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, trying to focus on the tv show, but it’s a lost cause. 

With his refreshing citrus smell enveloping you, the notes of the tangy orange he eats by sections every day clings to his skin somehow. Dreamily, you admire his neat beard for the hundredth time, smiling adoringly at the little patches he hates that don’t grow in all of the way. For some reason, you love them even more, wondering what his cheeks look like underneath all of the dark brunette hair. 

The show is forgotten at the recesses of your mind, and instead, your attention revolves around Harry, much to your surprise. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. The scattering of ink covering both arms, top to bottom. The dark curly hair donning his chest if you nudge the collar of his shirt down far enough. Even the steady beating of his heart grabs your focus, leading you to the slight pause and wake of it at the corner of his neck. Perhaps your most favorite of all is a hard tie between watching the execution of his facial features, or playing with his hands. One he minds quite more than the other, but you think he’s starting to get used to it. 

Your fingers that look puny in contrast to his run over the minuscule hairs peppered across his knuckles, yet another trait of his you adore. It’s rare there’s one you’ve found of his that you don’t enjoy immensely. They fall against his, feeling the lukewarm metal decorating his fingers, and he doesn’t even pause. Scooting your eyes away from his hands quickly, you try to forget the inviting veins bulging from his skin you so often like to get lost tracing. They flit now to the almost indiscernible dimples caving into his hairy cheeks, eyes gleaming as he titters at something on the tv. It all ends much too soon and you’re caught in the act, his gaze falling to yours. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at me fer?” he wonders aloud, the space between his brow creasing. You resist rubbing it free, finding you don’t have the time to when his lips press a kiss to your nose. “Water’s boilin’, I should go start tha chicken. Ya can help if ya want, but ya don’t hafta, love. Don’ want ya cuttin’ those pretty li’l fingas o’ yers.”

A nod suffices for your imaginary words, and so does the curling of your lips that part, “I like you,” you mumble, eyes glued to him, much like a puppy dog. 

“I like ya too, birdy. Quite arguably tha best thing that’s happened t’ me in a while, you are,” he rasps, voice dripping of honey at the arrival of his words. The look painting his face tells you that he knows it too, and you can taste the honey when he pecks you. “Like ya so much I can’t believe it sumtimes.” 

*

You both knew within the first week of school that having your prep hour during the same time in fifth hour, although coincidental, was perhaps not a good idea. It was uncertain whether the demons of the world or the angels of it had arranged this, seeing as you soon distracted each other from getting much prep done for that day’s lessons, grading, what have it. The both of you got on each other’s nerves regarding it at times, him more so than you, but you’re rest assured you both were grateful for it. 

Like today, you can’t stop jiggling your knee as you listen to Chopin while grading papers on the interpretable meanings of the scarlet A from The Scarlet Letter. Harry had gotten quickly upset with you yesterday when you had hogged too much of his prep hour with kissing and talking, noting that he had already been interrupted by another colleague. Today, you’re trying to give him his space to get his work done, but you find it exhausting staying away from him, much like you always do, and have to already. The temptation is even worse when he’s less than fifty steps away, and with those lips that should be downright illegal. His snap at you still stung, if only a little, and you can’t find your focus seeing that you’ve hardly seen him around today. 

Sometimes you feel pathetic and he’ll joke that you are too, melting into a puddle like The Wicked Witch of the West from not having seen him enough. You know that you are, but the realization doesn’t make you feel any better. Neither do you when a second later, speak of the devil, you hear his voice outside your ajar door. It mingles with another, and this one mentions your name, you’re rather sure. Harry shushes the other person with a laugh, and when the voices have paused, you return your gaze to the marked-up paper you’re grading. Turning up the music on your desktop, you sigh as you start reading the sentence over again, for the third time. 

*

Relief buds at the tips of your limbs as you gather your things from your desk around quarter to four, positive Harry’s after-school Poetry Club should be over by now. It’s stolen away as your fingers dangle on the handle of the door, his door closed with his nifty store-like sign turned to CLOSED. Sighing, your face creases into a messy line at the sight of it, your fingers soon composing a text to him that goes unanswered. 

Looking both ways down the hall, when the coast is clear, your heels click across the hall to place you at his door. Again, it’s unlocked to allow the custodial staff to come and clean soon. Bingo! Blanketed in darkness, few streams of light make their way in past the new snow blanketing the campus grounds. You don’t need much light anyways, and after setting your things down on a desk, you settle in his chair. The squeaks are almost all the way out of it, you notice, as you pull on the chain to the vintage green lamp at the corner of his desk. A new addition. Albeit a few scattered pens and lists, it looks much the same since the last time you were in his classroom. You quickly find a pad of Post-Its, green this time, and a pen that’s a fun color. Licking your lips with an excited smile, the sadness of missing Harry is abated by getting the chance to sneak a note onto his desk, which you’ve found is far harder to do these days. You leave with a smirk donning your lips, and a few Bit-O-Honeys to tide you over until the next time.

Harry,

Do you have any plans this Saturday? I might know a certain girl who is planning on making homemade pizza, and who thought you might enjoy it. If you’d like to, I can let her know and pass your name along. I’ve heard she’s a rather good chef, just don’t get too many glasses of wine into her, or else she turns into a real fruit loop. 

P.S. I wish there were words for how I feel about you, but being the English nerds we are, I think that gives you a little advantage to understand once I find those words. Have a great day, my love.

Your Birdy 

xoxoxo

*

Huffing, you stab at the button again, but you still receive the same error message from the copying machine. Forgetting it, you log out before turning around, which wasn’t a great idea either, you find. A quiet squeal leaves your lips when you find Harry standing in front of you, grinning at his success from scaring you. 

“A li’l jumpy this mornin’, are we?” he smirks, sliding his covered arms into the pockets of his gray slacks. 

“Yeah, you could say that, and the copier hates me this week,” you return, walking past him and over to the shelf of supplies in containers. 

“Oh, ya can use me code if that helps. Maybe it senses ya hate it,” he giggles, now behind you. Your nod suffices for a response as you drag your fingers through the sea of pens, searching for one color. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it. Ugh, there’s never any red pens when I need one,” you sigh, annoyed. 

“Ya know ya can take one from me stash anytime ya need,” he insists, humming a tune as he taps his foot. You mumble another small ‘thanks’ before moving onto another container. 

“Hey, why ya bein’ all shy?” he inquires, his gentle fingers soon encircling your wrist, turning you to face him. Again, you wonder how he can look more handsome every day, even in a dorky gray pull over vest with a cream button up underneath. 

“You said we can’t do PDA in school.”

“‘s tha copier room and nobody else ‘s here, bird. ‘s fine, y’know that by now,” he argues, pulling you into his arms easily, manipulating you like soft clay. Trying and failing to hide a frown, his brow knits together in confusion. “Why ya bein’ all weird, hmm? Gonna tell me?”

“You don’t let me come and bother you during our preps anymore. You got all mad at me,” you confess blearily, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Hastily, you remove it and leave his arms, sure somebody will walk in the door at the least convenient second. 

A laugh sings from his lips as he follows you, winding an arm around your waist. His lips are soft against your cheek, the stubble framing it becoming normal to you by now, although a scratchy nuisance. Now, he’s made his way to stand in front of you, blocking you from the packs of Crayola markers you were eyeing up for a project. 

“‘m sorry I got mad, okay? Jus’ had loads o’ stuff t’ get done, knew I shouldn’t have snapped at ya, tho.’ I regret it now . . . . Will ya forgive me?” he begs, sticking out his bottom lip, making him even more irresistible and delectable. Shiny curls fall over his forehead from his mousy hair that’s shorter on the sides after his recent cut. 

After checking the door, you surprise his lips with an all-forgiving smooch, welcomed by the bitter taste of black coffee on his lips. Like always, it draws to an end far too soon, and this time by the tinny ringing of the first bell. 

“Betta get goin’, bird. Don’ wanna be late,” he teases, brushing his nose against yours. A short yelp escapes your lips when his hand squeezes your ass before he saunters off after another kiss. 

“Harry,” you mutter, shaking your head, squeezing his hand briefly before you enter the halls together. 

Although you’ve become accustomed to it, it still feels strange to slide on another mask once you step into the halls. Sometimes even the school. You feel them and you know they’re there, the stares from the students. The rumors buzzed around the beginning of the year about you and Harry, but with his help, they never got to you. Neither of you have ever confirmed anything to anybody, and luckily you haven’t had to so far, even amidst the continuing rumors. 

Nonetheless, you still share with the other the stories of your students teasing the both of you about dating the other. You only fed the fire when you dressed up together for Halloween, or when your classes often combined together in the computer lab or library, or on the rare occasions, they have a large Jeopardy game or group project together. More often than you like to admit, you get carried away and entertain the freedom that would come with being able to say ‘yes’ to your students when they ask if you’re together. That would only call for one occasion, though. One that is quite far down the future road. As your eyes wander along Harry, a couple months in and you can’t deny that this isn’t just another boyfriend. No siree. 

“What d’ya got on tha agenda t’day, love? Ya startin’ anythin’ befo’ break?” he asks you, pulling you from your reverie, probably for the best. 

“No, we’re wrapping up the unit this week before testing next Monday on the last day. The Scarlet Letter, Frankenstein, Grammar Do’s and Don’ts, and the Transcendentalist Writers,” you explain, folding your hands together and letting them fall to the waist of your long wine-colored dress. Dark tights hug your legs, but the spotty heating inside of the school makes you miss the black cardigan sitting at your desk. 

“Mmm, same here. ‘s a good day t’ do it, can’t really introduce anythin’ befo’ Christmas Break. They’ll all forget it by tha time they return in two weeks. We jus’ have a chapta left in most classes: Hemingway, To Kill A Mockingbird, Huck. Finn, and Robert Frost,” he comments, hands hidden away in his slacks. Often you’re grateful for it, the removal of the temptation for you. Then again, it tempts your eyes that like to dance across the tightness of his slacks, but you quickly avert them.

“That’s good, only three more school days counting today, and one more until my observation,” you huff, finding it arduous to keep the nerves surrounding the event at bay. 

“You’ll do fine, love, I keep tellin’ ya that. Ya gotta believe me one o’ these times,” Harry coos, coming to a stop when you round the corner, your classrooms only a few steps away. To your surprise, his long fingers spread warmth across your skin with a pat to your arm, a rare one at that. “Have a good day, don’ let tha kids get t’ ya yet. Only a few days left. ‘ll talk t’ ya later.”

“Thanks, I hope you have a good day too,” you echo, containing the smile you send him halfheartedly, always careful about how you act towards each other around students. He winks at you quickly before turning away with that delightful smile playing around his lips, making you wonder how long again until you can kiss them. 

*

His luscious curls make your fingers itch to touch them, but as you linger in your doorway watching him, you know that you’ll have to wait. After biding your time for a few seconds for the students to leave him after receiving help, with a mental shrug you decide you’ll wait. Soon, you find yourself in the office. Colleagues meander around the room, the secretary speaks on the phone, and a parent or two or waits for them. After a few smiles and greetings, you arrive at your mailbox. First, you pluck the bag of Bit-O-Honeys from your pocket, sticking them in his box with a note already taped to them. After fishing out the few papers sitting in there, your hand brushes against something on the bottom, but you don’t see anything when you look again. With a quirked brow, you stand on your tippy toes, spotting a lime green Post-It note stuck to the bottom piece of wood. A smile quickly consumes your face as you pluck it from there, sticking it to the first paper on top of your pile, not wanting to raise any kind of suspicion. You and Harry do your best to be extra careful, not wanting to give anybody a reason to pry, and by now you’re both positive nobody has any true reason to doubt your story. 

Your heels dig into the sides of your feet after your long day, making you quicken your pace back to your classroom. The frown creasing your features is soon replaced with that grin from before when you turn into your classroom, finally taking a peek at the note. 

Birdy- 

You’re not very good at this whole Christmas list thing, are you? I’m still wondering what you’d like. Mind helping a silly old man out before the holiday rolls around? I hope your day is going swell. Don’t hesitate to come and say hi during prep, you know you’re always welcome. You’re the best kind of distraction, you’re just a little too good at it sometimes ;) You’re looking too gorgeous in that dress today, and so I’ll need you to stop by so I can give you a proper snog in private, pronto. 

Harry xxxx

P.S. - Homemade pizza sounds lovely, I can’t wait. You spoil me (: 

P.P.S - You have no idea how much you mean to me, bird xo

“Verdict on tha possibility o’ that snog?” somebody murmurs, their voice followed by the soft whoosh of your door closing. To no surprise, Harry leans against the door unable to hold back the happiness showing on his face. 

“I think it’s a yes,” you answer slowly, placing the stack of things on your desk, but not moving an inch. You want to toy with him and make him work for it, but as always, you can’t resist him. 

“How was yer day?” he mumbles once your arms come around his middle, brushing against the knit sweater vest. Sometimes he dresses like older colleagues and other days like his young age, but nonetheless you can’t help but think he’s the best dressed of any male teachers here at the school. He’s just too goddamn handsome that he can pull off anything.

“Good, we finished all of our readings in my classes. I get to be observed doing review tomorrow, so I hope the observer likes my Jeopardy games,” you comment, slipping your hands under the fabric, feeling the warmth projected from his body. 

“‘m sure they will, love, ‘s a good idea ya came up with. I know it took loads o’ work doin’ four o’ ‘em fer tha four different classes ya have throughout tha day. What time ‘s yer observation, ya neva said?”

“It’s during my fourth hour, before lunch,” you answer, him humming a short reply. “You really think I look that nice in this dress? I thought I looked frumpy and too tall,” you question, pursing your lips as you take a look at your long plain dress. 

“Yes, think ya look amazin’, bird. Couldn’t keep my eyes off o’ ya all day wheneva I saw ya. Yer gonna make me slip up one o’ these times, and make me blow our cover,” Harry snickers, stepping forward to sink his fingers into your hair, a thumb falling to address your cheek. A knowing smirk tempts your lips, and it only worsens when his tongue comes out to run over his. “Think ya know that already, tho’ - y’know what ya do t’ me, dontcha?” 

You silently shake your head, but the smile makes an appearance, and your lie is free to the air. His breathy laugh mingles with it before he takes them away, scooping your top lip between his. His kisses fill you with a warm giddiness, one that leads your hands to leave his strong back, and wander down him. Juice from the orange he must have just eaten trickles onto your lips, meanwhile your fingers dip into his pants, just brushing the top of his clothed bum. 

Harry breaks the kiss suddenly, but you’re already giggling. So far, all you receive is an eyebrow raise from him, but his toasty hands don’t leave your cheeks. His gleaming rose lips part, “What’d I say ‘bout those hands o’ yers? Lookie here, they’re gettin’ you in trouble ‘gain,” he tuts, your left cheek soon cold as he wags a finger at you. 

“You never said I couldn’t, and your bum just looks so nice today- well, every day,” you counter, feeling cheeky. His eyes dart from yours as blush rises to his cheeks, pulling up the corners of his mouth along with it. 

“Bird,” he giggles, eyes soon returning to yours. “I dunno what ‘m gonna do with you,” he coos gently, cupping your cheek once more with his long fingers, returning his lips to yours for a kiss. His smile is felt upon yours and you find out why when his tongue prods at your lips, begging for entrance. As your hand slides down to caress his bum, your lips part to let him in. 

Day after day, you wonder just when it was that you let him into your heart, seeing how he’s made a home in there. You just hope he’ll never want to leave. More and more often lately, you keep thinking that you’d like him to stay there, perhaps for forever. 

* 

With chattering teeth and a frozen nose, you only start to warm up once you unlock the door to your room, grateful to get to spend the upcoming weekend inside your cozy home. Thoughts of the cute knit hats Harry wears and how he finds you adorable with your rosy cheeks and button nose pull your eyes to his door. Sighing, you unwrap your scarf, discovering he hasn’t came in yet this morning. Yet another thing to add to his list of acting odd lately at times. Even though you spoke to him through a few texts this morning, you long to hear his voice comfort you about your dreaded observation later today. Unbeknownst to you, he has this magical quality to him that never fails to calm you down, or to make things better. Yet another thing you love about him, you think with a smile, unloading your messenger bag of the materials you bring back and forth from school. 

Once that’s all unpacked and you remember to turn on the lights, as well as the blinking Christmas lights strewn around your room, you get an idea. Pushing his door open, you pull on the gold metal chain of his lamp, your hands drifting to the green Post-Its. The pen slides from your fingers when somebody surprises you with a loud ‘boo!’

“Harry, stop,” you giggle, briefly glancing to the doorway to find him in his puffy black coat. 

“Would ya look at that, I caught ya in tha act. It won’t be much o’ a surprise now,” he titters, softly closing the door behind himself, the hallways beginning to abate their previous silence. 

Shrugging, you pick the pen back up and start to scribble down a note while you still have a few precious seconds left. Smirking, you release your lip you bite on to speak, “I got here before you today, that’s a point for me. I think we’re three-two now for this week,” you tease him, listening to the slushy scuffle of his leather boots along the floor. 

“Ya, I hadda busy mornin’, had sumthin’ important t’ do. Can ya guess what it was?” he murmurs, appearing behind you suddenly, his cheek rubbing against yours softly. A long ‘sure’ falls from your lips, but it comes up short when you think about the sensation of his cheek against your face. It’s smooth and warm, and not hairy. 

“Wait a minute,” you announce, pulling away from him and turning around in his chair to look at him. Seconds after your jaw dropped to your chest, your hand flies to your mouth at the sight of him freshly shaven. “Harry, your face!” For the first time, you finally get to see his dimples on full display, collapsing into his round smiling cheeks. A long giggle escapes them as he runs a hand over them. 

“What d’ya think o’ me all clean shaven? Haven’t seen me without a beard, have ya, bird?” he inquires, raising an eyebrow as a cocky smirk creases his pink cheeks. Within seconds, you’re on your feet and feeling his satiny cheeks under your palms. 

“They’re so smooth, I like them. You look so nice, well I liked you before with a beard too. You’re so handsome either way,” you croon, leaning in to kiss him, tasting the spearmint toothpaste he uses. Your lips wander to his cupid’s bow, the slope below his bottom lip, and across the expanses of his grinning cheeks. 

“Stop,” he giggles, his hands finding a home on your waist, but he’s hard to believe as he leans into your lips. “Don’t think I look weird or less handsome without a beard, d’ya now?”

“No, you never could. Mmmm, I like kissing all over your cheeks,” you hum in between kisses, the musky smell of his shaving cream tickling at your nose. 

“Thanks, bird, ‘m glad t’ hear that. Now, lemme read dis note ya left, ‘m curious now.”

Much to your disappointment, his face soon leaves the clutches of your kisses, him trailing to his desk. Although whining at his absence, you let him, and instead you admire his adorable cheeks. It takes everything inside of you to hold yourself back from pinching them and kissing them. Hints of denial and shock come over you again, unsure of what you’re seeing at times. Never in the last seven-ish months since you truly met Harry, have you seen him without his beard. It’s kind of startling, but you know that he has you wrapped around his finger as well, because it unmistakingly makes you love him even more. Sometimes you wonder how that’s possible, even if you’ve only been official for a few months. 

“Why the change?” you wonder aloud, eyes glued to him as his scan over the note you didn’t get to finish. Lifting his glowing eyes to you, those greens stare back at you, and again you’re knocked off your feet by him. 

“Why not,” he answers with a shrug of his shoulders, holding up the note. “Ya didn’t finish, y’know. Ya started t’ declare yer love fer me and all that jazz, and it ended in tha middle o’ a sentence. Not very proper fer an English teacher, y’know,” he pouts, dragging his feet over to you after his sarcastic words. 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish,” you reply, surrounding his middle once he’s in reach. 

“D’ya care t’?” he whispers against your mouth, his lips ghosting over yours. This man really does know what he’s doing. 

“No thanks, I’m not a ‘put me on the spot’ type of gal.”

“Ah, you aren’t, are ya? Tha’s a new one,” he grins, laying kisses to your cold cheeks, spreading warmth in his trail. 

“Maybe you could tell me something, though.”

“Hmm?” he hums, the feeling of his smooth skin rubbing against yours entirely new to you, but you think you could get used to it. 

“Could you tell me that I’m worrying about my observation for nothing?”

His kisses come to an unnecessary end, but in the end you’re grateful to see his green eyes again, and all of the love they hold. 

“Ya are worryin’ ‘bout it fer nuthin’, bird. Promise ya yer gonna do great, ‘m so proud o’ you and tha great teacher ya’ve become,” he coos above you, tapping his finger to your nose. The words settle inside of you and begin to sink in. “And ‘m not jus’ sayin’ that, hope ya know how much I mean it.” 

*

You tried, and failed, to keep Harry’s words at the front of your mind throughout your day. When the worries would bubble up, you’d try to make them go away with his reassuring voice saying them. At times, it was strenuous, and quickly the idea of eating lunch after your observation seemed ridiculous. That word seemed to align with your day soon, seeing as the powerpoint for Jeopardy wouldn’t work at first, but you blamed the projector. Then as the minutes ticked by and brought you closer and closer to eleven o’clock, shakes started to radiate throughout your body. Your hands grew clammy and you wish it was over with before it even started. 

Your students for British Literature soon shuffled in, dropping backpacks on the floor with groans, itching for Christmas Break to come as well. You can’t help but agree with them, reminding them of this once they’re all seated and the last bell has rung. Inside your chest, your heart feels like it’s trying to break free from its cage as you anticipate a random colleague walking through your door. 

“Hello, everybody. We finished reading Frankenstein yesterday, and to prepare for our test on Monday, we’re going to do some review. I know you all have come to enjoy my Jeopardy games, so I made one for Frank and-,” your introduction to your class is cut off by a knock on your classroom door, making your heart jump inside your chest. “Excuse me, let me just get that first.” With a deep breath, you hurry to get the door, and that breath goes flying out the window when you see who’s on the other side. His name falls from your lips at the sight of him, a clipboard hugged to his chest. 

“Hi, ‘m here t’ observe you fer tha duration o’ yer lesson,” Harry announces, a professionalism coming over his voice, yet a cheekiness is heard at the edge of it. 

“You’re observing me?” you ask breathlessly, earning a proud nod from him. “O-okay.”

“Yer gonna do great, don’ worry ‘bout me. Jus’ ignore me sittin’ in tha back,” he whispers, his warm smile holding more words than the both of you know he can say right now. After a squeeze to your arm, he slips past you into the classroom, flared maroon pants billowing behind him. “Hullo, e’rybody. ‘m Mr. Styles from across tha hall, I also teach English here. Don’ mind me, ‘m jus’ observin’ yer lovely teacher fer a colleague review t’day. Carry on,” Harry says, addressing your class. Swallowing, the butterflies take a peek from their safety inside your chest, soon taking flight to rid you of your worries. 

“As I was saying, I made a Jeopardy game for Frank that we’ll play to review for the test on Monday,” you continue, folding your hands together to sit below your waist. You smile when the class erupts in applause, and even more so when your eyes flit to Harry whose found an empty desk at the back of the room. His head of curls lifts from being bent over the clipboard he writes on, sending you an encouraging wink. “So let’s take attendance to see how many there are of all of you, and I’ll split you up into teams. Then we can get started,” you finish, feeling his eyes on you. Although the pressure is still there, you feel at home in his presence and you don’t even mess up once during your lesson. 

Even if you had, you’re sure he could’ve fixed it with the winks, thumbs ups, and heart wrenching smiles he sends you from across the room.  

*

“So how did you manage observing me when you had a class during fourth, too? And how’d I do by the way?” you begin, wandering into Harry’s open classroom, the hallways almost empty after the end of the school day. Stopping in your tracks, confusion washes over you when the seat at his desk is empty. It would seem likely he had only stepped out, but it only gets weirder when his long coat isn’t found draped over his chair. “Okay then,” you mumble, returning to your classroom with questions blooming inside of you.

Thoughts are recalled in your mind about how odd Harry’s acted on a few occasions lately, namely his unusual disappearances after school. It’s hard to ignore as you work on the last few questions for the test for sophomore American Lit. You’re trying to think of questions from Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself, switching tracks after just focusing on Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Self-Reliance. Although not news to you, you steal a glance across the hall at his classroom that still lays undisturbed, longing for his help with a good Whitman question. Soon, you find your phone in your hands, typing up a text to him asking him where he is, because you need his help. Before exiting your messages, the gray thought bubble appears with an ellipsis, indicating his typing. You wait for a response, but after close to a minute, you forget your phone on your desk nearby.

Giving up, your attention wanders to your staff email. You occupy your time answering a few parent emails, then some staff emails, and reading the important ones from the principal regarding Christmas Break. Your eyes grow far more tired at the sight of one from him about upcoming final exams in January, a time that seems far off from now. As a teacher now, you know that’s not true, and you always have to be ahead of the game. It’s yet another thing you want to rack Harry’s brain about, unsure of how to even create a final, and what to include on it. All you can think of is how much you despised final exams in high school and university, finding little worth in them. You know that you don’t want to be hard on your students, because a cumulative exam is difficult, and a regular exam already is as well. While your desktop plays Disney and Pixar piano instrumentals, your thoughts drift to the few teachers you had who made their final exam less intimidating. Whether it was a test on just the most recent unit you learned, the last book you read as a class, or something silly like throwing wadded up paper balls into the recycling from ten feet away. 

Quickly, they’re disturbed by the twinkling of your cell phone, buzzing along your desk. A budding warmth trickles into your limbs when you see on it the goofy picture of Harry from a day at the beach last summer. New freckles covering his tanned skin, and all pink sunglasses donning his eyes. 

“Hey, where’d you escape to?” you answer casually, dragging your mouse over to pause your music, coming across a song from the movie Up. 

“Oh erm, had t’ run a quick errand. ‘m on me way back tho’, so what’re ya doin’?” Harry replies, clearing his throat which he never does, only when he’s nervous. You try to listen into his voice closer, but you don’t hear anything else besides that, so you try to push it away. 

“Finishing up my Transcidentalism Writers test. I was wondering what would be a good question, in your opinion, from Whitman’s Song of Myself?” you pose to him, your other hand falling from your computer mouse to prop your chin up. 

“Hmmm, tha’s a good question,” he titters, another sound echoing his words, but you can’t make out what it is in the background. “Ya could do a question ‘bout tha theme o’ tha poem, examples o’ figurative language, or ya could have a short response question where they summarize tha poem in their own thoughts, I s’pose. Ya could even- Shhh,” he finishes. He only makes you grow more and more curious as to what’s going on, and why you hear a whine in response. 

“Who are you talking to?” you laugh, narrowing your eyes at the wall you stare at lazily while talking to him. 

“Oh nobody, nobody. Do those erm questions help? Ya like ‘em, bird?” he responds hastily, brushing the strange occurrence away. 

“Okay, whatever you say, and yeah they help. Thank you.”

“Welcome. ‘m almost t’ me classroom, so ‘ll see ya soon, kay?”

“Okay,” you tell him before he hangs up. 

Yawning, you turn back to your computer and quickly write down those ideas in a Notepad document before you forget them. You’re in the middle of typing up the idea for a short response question when there’s a knock at your classroom door. Turning your head, you don’t see anybody at first, so you revert your attention back to your typing. 

“Yeah, who’s there? Harry, is that you?” you reply, your fingers dancing along the keyboard swiftly. 

“No, ‘s me,” Harry’s voice replies, but it’s distorted to sound different from his. It’s more high-pitched, very near to that of a child. Giggling, you look back over to your doorway to find a surprise. “Hi, ‘m a puppy. ‘m a Golden Retriever mix. I jus’ got adopted by me new daddy, Harry.”

“Oh my goodness!” you exclaim, hands flying to your mouth at the most adorable sight indeed. Held in Harry’s two hands, a tan Golden puppy is suspended in the air in your doorway. His tiny furry body squirms in your boyfriend’s hands, a short yip leaving his little mouth. “Harry!” you cry, rooted to your spot. Another exclamation leaves your lips when a yawn leaves the little puppy’s mouth, and then again when his long wagging tail enters your view. 

“‘m only eight weeks and daddy jus’ go’mme, so I don’ have a name yet, but ‘s nice t’ meet you. Me daddy ‘s thinkin’ o’ namin’ me Gatsby afta his favourite book. Whoops, I wasn’t s’posed t’ tell ya that, daddy says ya were s’posed t’ guess that on yer own. Anyways, my daddy and I wanted t’ ask you if ya’ll be my new mummy? He was also wonderin’ if ya wanted t’ come an’ live with us, since daddy told me yer lease ‘s up soon. I dunno what dat ‘s, but what d’ya say? I know we’d have loads o’ fun togetha, and ‘m jus’ so darn cute!” Harry continues in his child-like voice, speaking for the new puppy. Tears soon blur your eyes, but you blink them away quickly so as to not lose sight of the irresistible puppy. 

“Harry!” you cry, getting to your feet and dashing in your heels to the doorway, finding him bringing the puppy to his chest. 

“Hi, birdy. I see ya’ve met me new puppy, or . . our new puppy,” he smirks before you, hitting you with another wave of emotions at his darling words. “Sorry, I didn’t tell ya ‘bout him sooner. This ‘s what’s been takin’ up all me time dis week, and it all happened so fast. Wanted t’ surprise ya, and I think ‘s safe t’ say I have,” he chuckles, removing a hand from around the puppy’s pink belly to wipe the tears from under your eyes. 

“It’s okay. Oh my goodness, look at him,” you almost whine in that voice you use around babies, bringing your hands to his fluffy fur. He turns his head towards you and his tiny black nose wiggles as he sniffs at the air around you. “Hi, little guy. Can I be your new mummy, is that okay with you?”

“‘Course it ‘s, was kinda bettin’ on it. Knew ya’d be a good mummy . . . Wish I could bring him t’ school on Monday, but my sista said she’d take him fer tha day,” Harry coos, lifting your head with his voice. One of those big crinkly-eye smiles claims his face, disappearing from view when he presses a kiss to your lips. Your lips move with his, fingers getting lost in his hair, but it’s over quickly when you start to hear barking below you. “Heeeeey, ‘s okay, li’l guy. I can kiss mummy, if I want t’. What d’ya think, Gatbsy, hmmm? Mummy said she’d make us pizzas t’morrow. Already turnin’ out t’ be a good mummy, isn’t she now?” 

Laughs coat the both of your lips as he lifts the puppy into the air for the both of you to look at. They echo throughout the room when Gatsby wiggles in his arms, moving his gangly legs wildly as if trying to swim through the air. 

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, encircling his middle with your arms. The puppy returns to his side, and his left arm wanders to around your shoulders. His lips are cold against your forehead when they press a smooch there. You can’t help but to laugh again when the puppy inches over to you, sniffing all over you, long arms dangling over Harry’s. He reaches your face and begins to lick kisses along your cheeks, soon crawling into your arms with Harry’s help. 

“I think he likes his new mummy, I can’t blame him.”

“Oh I love him already,” you confess, losing your fingers in his long fur around his face, ears flopping all over the place. “And his daddy,” you blurt out, widening your wet eyes once the words escape your lips. Glancing over to Harry, somehow that smile has grown even larger, adorned by a fresh wash of pink along his cheeks. 

“You love me?” he murmurs slowly, hand soft against your shoulder, pressing you to his chest. You pause, unsure of how to read his reaction, but the sudden doubt falls away. You’re nodding before the words come, and you already see the effect they have on him. 

“Yeah, I know it’s only been a few months, but I do . . I love you, Harry,” you divulge, clutching the puppy to your chest who still spills kisses along your face and neck, licking up the tears that run down your cheeks. 

“I think he’s gonna hafta contain himself and gimme a turn kissing his mum . . ‘coz I love ya too, birdy, so much,” Harry hums, the smile leaking into his voice. You can even taste it on your lips when his touch yours, massaging yours gently, the smooth feeling of his skin still a surprise to you. 

“And, Harry?” you whisper, his eyes falling to yours, mumbling a question in response. “I’d love to move in with the two of you . . my boys,” you finally answer, watching the smile hike further up his cheeks. His delightful giggle surrounds you and soon a sweet yipping followed by puppy kisses to the both of your happy faces. 

Yeah, you could get used to this, all of it. 

#shit this gonna become a fic aint it #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles teacher #teacher harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #your name #reader #one direction #fine line #watermelon sugar #narrymccartney writes #green eyes hs #chapter 3 #blurb #imagine #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #wattpad #harry styles wattpad #teacher! harry

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and Her Gunn (Part 117 2xs2) "Internet Thangs"

Colson and Luna pull up to The Chateau Marmont. Colson steps out first, handing his keys to the valet. As another man approaches Luna's door he puts his hand up to stop him. Walking around, he'd rather open His Girl's door himself. Slipping out of the SUV, the somewhat notorious couple manages to walk inside, hand in hand without being bothered.

"Why are we here?" A slightly drunk and totally confused Luna asks.

"They usually film in NY, out here they book where we want. Ash or Jackie must've chose The Chateau... I'm not sure who booked this one." He shrugs out his answers as he leads her to room 29.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Inside the room looks nothing like the hotel Luna's used to. Everything is draped in black sheets. It actually makes the tragic landmark a bit more gloomier, which Luna didn't think was possible.

"Hey, Colson! How are you?" Sean the host greets him. "This must be Luna, it's such a pleasure." He grins as he stretches his arm out.

"Thank you for having us." Luna accepts his hand warmly, still not knowing what the fuck Colson has gotten her into; all she knows is that there's supposed to be wings and she's starving.

"We're all set up. Make yourselves comfortable and we'll start in 10... Sound good?" Sean confirms to Colson's nod and Luna's look of uncertainty; this is Colson's third time, Luna's never have I ever.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Welcome to Hot Ones, Everybody!" Sean greets the camera. "We've got a special couple's edition here today with some self proclaimed Bad Things. I'm talking with Machine Gun Kelly and if you don't mind my saying so, his STUNNING girlfriend THAT Brooklyn Bitch. They're both ruling the charts with their hit single Bad Things along with other collaborations like I Think I'm Okay and Nightmare." Sean now turns to them directly. "Guys, I've gotta admit, I've seen the music video, caught your performances on SNL, Ellen and GMA... Not a stalker but I might've also peeped a couple hot Insta pics and stories of you two... I have to say, they do not do justice to the amount of tattoos and bad assery, I don't know if that's a word but I'm making it one... That comes along with the two of you in person. Just looking at the you, I wanna peirce my nose, buy a fender and find a hardcore chick to rule The World with!" He laughs nervously as Luna gives him an weird look; in her drunken mind, he's an odd, little man.

"Do it! Live the dream, my Dude!" Colson encourages him with a chuckle.

"Don't tempt me, I just might." Sean wishes. "Okay, so lemme give Brooklyn a little insight... We've got ten wings. Ten types of hot sauce raising in intensity with each wing... And one question to go with each wing and sauce." The host explains.

"Wait, what?" There's that magic sentence again as Luna hears how each wing is contingent upon a question. "You told me hot wings... You didn't say anything about questions." Luna raises her eyebrows at Colson.

"Ten wings. Ten questions. Come on, we got this, Kitten." Colson sinks a firm kiss onto Luna's cheek.

"Not the way you eat fucking wings." Luna lowly snarks for only Colson to hear with an obviously unamused tone; she doesn't like to be blindsided.

"Okay, Round One... One wing, one hot sauce, one question. Beware they get hotter as we go. Don't worry though, we've got your water and your milk that you can refill at anytime." Sean begins to start them off.

"Hold on... Wait. What? What is milk and water? Are you... Are you children?" Luna slightly stutters in disgust. "If I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna enjoy it. Fuck this ballsack shit, lemme get a beer. Please." Luna asserts while finding herself asking the same stupid fucking question AGAIN as she tries to reel herself in.

"Fucking MILK??? Who the FUUUUUCK... Ugh... Shut up, Loons. Get your beer, eat your chicken, let Colson answer whatever questions and roll on." She tries to calm down and mentally prepare herself for who knows what besides chicken and beer. "They are REALLY trying to ruin two of my favorite things though." Luna can't help but still complain to herself, thinking of how much she HATES interviews.

***********************************************

Colson can't help but laugh at her. He knew today was gonna take a lot of patience and persuading, considering Luna's great love for interviews and all things The Internet. He's surprised she's held up this well so far. "SHIT!! I hope either Ash or Jackie screened these FUCKING questions." Colson's heart suddenly begins to panic.

"Heineken, please." The sound of Luna's voice breaks Colson's thoughts as he focuses on the secretive smile on her face.

"Alright, Penny Lane." He teases her as he squeezes her thigh and tries to drop a kiss on her lips.

"Unh Unh... Luna Smith, motherfucker." She declares with a slur as she ducks just out of his reach; reminding him of the first time he tried to kiss her.

Giving him a playful eye, she let's him pull her into his lap. Luna runs her fingertips along Colson's jawline as he dips his tongue inside of her willing mouth, lightly dancing together until he breaks away to only hold her by the lips; hands firm upon her ass as always. There's a sweet, sensualness to them as love and other emotions rush between their beings by just their kiss on the lips. Colson wraps his arms around Luna, both sighing upon his release as they rest forehead to forehead. Intimate words are exchanged between the two of them until Sean interrupts them after grabbing Luna a few beers. EVERYTHING being caught by the cameras. Slightly intoxicated, Luna doesn't even think to be aware of them like a fucking dumbass.

"Alright... Round One... Now complete with water, milk and beer." Sean rubs his hands together with a chuckle.

"Thank you." Luna lifts her beer graciously to his smiling nod.

"Starting us off, we've got Hot One's classic sauce. It's our garlic fresno edition so critique away." He suggests as they all bite into a leg.

Colson takes one bite. Luna's eating the fuck out of her chicken wing as always. Then dude starts asking questions and ruins everything.

"You two are getting married in like two weeks so I'm assuming you live together... How do you guys typically start your day off?" He is easily the most awkward interviewer Luna has ever encountered.

"We do." Colson answers after he swallows his bite; looking over at Luna whose still munching away, her chicken filled nod agrees with him for the moment. "We usually start the day by fucking and getting stoned. One or the other or both together. It don't matter which order as long as their together. Back to back. Fucking and stoning. Stoning and fucking." Colson clarifies himself as Luna almost snorts her beer and Sean tries to compose himself.

"I fucking love him." Luna's soul shines for Colson.

"Round Two... This is a shawarma sauce by Dawson's. Little spicier but not much." The host leads.

Colson takes one bite as expected. Luna's chilling. Eating fucking chicken. She can't talk if she has a mouth full of chicken.

"You've got this new album out, Hotel Diablo... What would you say is the most personal song on it?" Sean asks as he takes a sip of his milk.

"Glass House." Colson answers lowly; Luna hands him her beer, only slightly happy her mouth is preoccupied by delicious meat.

"Next we got Goat Rider by Angry Goat Company... " Sean begins to describe the next sauce.

"They should call Em that... " Luna says lowly as she looks up at Colson and tries to contain herself; his smirk only encourages her. "Because he's the angriest little GOAT of them all." She says in a tiny, childlike voice; it's Colson's fault she couldn't help herself as she dips her face into his chest to hide her giggles; he's just as bad as he covers her head and his own laughter with his arm crooked around her.

"God Damn, I fucking love her." Colson's heart glows with amusement from his Kitten's sense of humor.

"Hey... Hey... Hey... No secret conversations. Hot wings and questions." The host tries to redirect them.

"Alright, super chicken man." Luna announces as she comes out of her hiding spot. "What's next?" She asks as she grabs her third wing and chomps into it.

"Are you guys REALLY getting married at ESTFest?" He asks as Colson almost chokes on his chicken.

"Need some milk?" Luna asks sarcastically with a full mouth.

"Fuck you." Colson coughs out as he sips the milk. Luna almost chokes on her own chicken as she laughs at him. "See, that's what you get. Asshole." He calls her out after handing her, her beer and making sure she'll live.

"So ESTFest... ?" Sean goes on to remind them.

"Yeah... " Colson nods after he collects himself also. "During ModSun's set."

"What?" Luna asks Sean directly when he won't stop looking at her for an answer. "You see the ring." Luna wiggles her sparkling left finger in the air. "ACTUALLY... I got two." She grins like a spoiled little girl as she extends her right hand out. "THIS one is my favorite... " Luna declares as she admires it herself before she leans back against Colson, staring up at him with THAT One Look as she plays with one of her most prized possession.

"Is that a guitar string?" Sean asks with pure wonder.

"Is that the fourth question?" Luna asks with a teasing charm as she holds her hands together towards her chest, just underneath her chin.

"I like that you play hard ball." Sean chuckles nervously as he wags his finger at her, not wanting to let this question go. "I'll trade it in for Round Four's question as long as it's a two part answer." He bargains.

"Mmmm... Nope. Two questions. Two answers. Two chickens." Luna's unwilling to budge.

"Fine... Is it a guitar string?" He asks again with a tinge of disappointment but still wanting to know.

"Yes." Luna nods her head proudly as she answers and presents her hand back towards him again so he can fully study the work of love.

"Wow. That's really neat the way the wire is twisted around to reinforce itself." He observes in admiration. "Where did it come from? EXACTLY." He reframes the question.

"We were On Tour in Pittsburgh and Colson sporadically proposed to me in his dressing room after The Show. He made it with one of the strings off the guitar he'd used that night within like 20mins." Luna sweetly admits as she thinks back to those private moments.

"I just wanna say, for the record, One... The guitar that string came off of goes everywhere with me now. Has ever since... Actually I don't think I've used another electric since that night." Colson looks over at Luna, who shakes her head to agree with him that he hasn't. "And Two... I had that rock for a few weeks but my dumbass left it behind when we hit The Road." Colson points out.

"Annnnnnnnd I love them both." Luna coos as she pecks Colson on the side of the mouth. "Now can I see why this goat is so angry?" She asks as she shoots him a grin and grabs her chicken leg.

"Alright, where are we at?" The host struggles to regain control of his show.

"We're at you owe me another hot wing because we gave you two answers." Luna reminds him of their deal as she splashes the sauce from the next bottle in line onto her fifth tiny drumstick. "You want any?" She asks Colson as she reaches over.

"Ahhh... Just a bit." He groans.

"You know Imma tell Slim all about this later tonight, right?" She chortles at him lightly. 

"I fucking hate you." Colson chuckles at a munching ass Luna while he reaches for her beer.

"So... Round Six?" Sean asks as he weakly throws his hands up to their nods. "We've got Scorpion from the Heartbeat Hot Sauce Co. Now we're climbing up the ladder guys but Brooklyn, you've eaten all of each of your wings. The only other person to do this is Shia Labeouf. Think you can you keep up?" He asks her as if it's a test.

"This motherfucker is DUMB." Colson snickers to himself at the idea of anyone challenging Luna.

"Hold up, I have some questions. First off... What do you mean only one other person has eaten all their wings? What the fuck do they do with 'em?" She asks, feeling kinda offended by the lack of chicken respect on this Internet Thang that Colson has her involved in.

"Most guests usually take a small bite of each wing." He explains to Luna's look of horror.

"Why did you ask me if I can keep up? Did you run out of chicken and beer?" She genuinely asks around the sexist insult to his head shake.

"She's such a fucking bitch." Colson thinks in amusement as he watches Luna. She is his favorite person in The World, especially when it comes to her level of IDGAF.

"Okay then, let's eat and answer questions." Sean simply requests as he takes a healthy bite. "What's the craziest thing you two have done together?" He asks once he's swallowed.

Colson takes a drink from the beer he's now sharing with Luna, mentally refusing to sip anything else after she made fun of him. His insides are dying. Luna's having the time of her life like she's the Abba Queen of hot wings as she wipes her mouth after fucking up her latest victim. Both of them are on totally different waves lengths but when their eyes meet for the question anything drops away and everything makes sense.

"The craziest thing I've ever done with Luna is fall in love with her almost 10yrs ago simply by her presence and smile." Colson grins as he looks down for a moment. "I think I might've even described it once as a cosmic boner." Colson lightly laughs to himself as he looks up into Luna's welling eyes and they lightly giggle together at the reality of their love; she covers her mouth to slightly to muffle her happy whimpers.

"Yeeaaah... We've done some crazy shit but none of our foolish antics compare to the risk that we're taking by starting a life together." Luna answers sincerely as her breath catches and her eyes never leave Colson's.

"More wings for Round Seven?" The host interrupts their intimacy again.

"Round Seven." The couple agrees before nodding studiously at each other and focusing on their wings.

"Round Seven we have Bourbon Habenero Ghost from Hellfire Detroit. Let's give it a go." He suggests as they each take a bite. "Best song on Hotel Diablo?" Sean hits them with a rapid fire question.

"AHHHHH... Fuck!! THAT'S hot!! Ahhhh... Ahhh... Bad Things!"  Colson shouts out his answer as he stands up and begins waving his bandana around.

Sean heads directly for the milk after one full bite, chew and swallow. Luna eats the whole wing. Then finishes her beer.

"Aww... Bunny." Luna coos with a smile as she lightly giggles and sucks her teeth. "Don't listen to him, he's hot sauce dumb right now. Col, get some milk... " She advises as she hands him the glass. "Hotel Diablo is bigger than just ONE great song." Luna air quotes. "It's a whole concept from beginning to end. I won't say which song I think is the best but I think when a song that is not only number on the Alternative charts but also number two in POP with a major lyric that stands alone about hurting oneself... " Luna's voice begins to quiver. "Than that means to me that millions of people are responding to and resonating with a certain kind of painful feeling... " Luna starts to become visibly emotional as she continues to speak. "And I think it's important to pay attention to that point because it's incredibly concerning that so many individuals in our society obviously relate in some kind of vulnerable way to the words of this song but we don't talk about ANY it. It's time to change our question. It's not what is the best song. It should be WHY is this the best song." Luna has tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks down in her lap to let them drop silently, leaving both men speechless.

"Holy fuck... I never thought of it that way." Colson stares at her while holding the empty glass of milk before making his way over to comfort her.

"Are you guys ready for Round Eight?" Sean gently asks as he sits back down with them after Luna's had a chance to pull herself together.

"Yeah, Man. We got this." Colson answers as he squeezes Luna's thigh.

"Okay... Round Eight... We got Beyond Insanity by Da Bomb and a direct question for Brooklyn. We ready? Bite!" Sean declares skipping his own wing to ask Luna the question mid chew. "Why won't you proclaim your birth name publicly?"

"What the FUCK was that?" Colson's bewildered by the question presented to Luna as he holds tight of her thigh and drops his wing as she speaks. "Just know I'm here, Kitten." Is all he can think as he stares daggers into Sean and Luna cooly rips the host a new asshole. 

"Do you know my birth name?" Luna asks as she slows down her chewing and stares through the stupid host. "Because I don't. It's not Luna Smith if that what you're suggesting. That's my legal name. Not my birth name. You should really do your research before you ask your guests personal questions... Or at least have them worded correctly." Luna advises icily as she finishes her wing. "We ready for Round Nine?" Luna asks loudly with an annoyed tone as she drops the chicken bone onto her full plate.

"Yeah. Let's do it." Sean continues uncomfortably. "This is called Chipotle Express and it's by PuckerButt Pepper Co... We may be rising in heat but we're gonna take it down a smidge in the questions... I know you've collaborated a few times but do you guys think you'll ever do anything like a full album or project together?" Sean asks as he bites into his wing.

For the first time Luna doesn't use her love of food as an excuse not speak. "That's probably the best question you've asked yet." She compliments Sean finally as she looks over at Colson's own turning wheels before choosing to explain. "Because it's the first one that I don't have an answer to because I never heard the question."

"I think what she's trying to say is as natural of a next move that you may think making an entire album together may be... It never occurred to either of us until the moment you presented the question... " Colson turns his head to stare at Luna with a loving smile; both knowing that they're sharing almost the same thought. "And now I can't stop thinking of all the other thousands of things we could create together. So thank you." Colson and Luna turn away from each other for a moment to look at Sean with gratitude.

"Do you guys believe in soulmates?" He asks his final question while caught up in the loving feelings between the couple.

"Yes."

"No."

Colson and Luna answer at the same time but with different responses. Different ideals. Different expectations. 

"What do you mean no?" He asks her with furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't. I believe in true love but I don't believe that we're only destined to love one person. I think different people are supposed to come into our lives at different points for different reasons for different amounts of time. If that wasn't my truth than I would've never been able to fall in love with you after Justin." Luna explains her logic to him as if they're the only two in the hotel room.

Colson's silent for a moment. Totally hating Sean and his hot wings. ESPECIALLY hating his stupid fucking questions. Deeply contemplating what Luna just said.

"But you do, MGK?" Sean asks him directly, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah. I believe I found my soulmate... And if not, I'll have her as my wife." He smiles coyly, never taking his eyes off of Luna as she watches him with adoration.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"What were your other questions?" Luna inquisitively asks Sean after they wrap up taping.

"Oh! Uh... What do you think married life will look like for you guys and do you think you'll ever have kids?" He responds, slightly caught off guard.

"Life won't change." Luna smiles. "We're gonna keep on creating, traveling and being kind to The World as for... "

"You ready, Kitten?" Colson interrupts them as he slips his arm around Luna's waist. "Thanks again, Man." He acknowledges Sean before leading Luna away.

"We already have one... But maybe another one day." Luna answers his second question over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eye.

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

"Where are we going now?" Luna giggles into Colson's ear as he carries her piggyback style up a slight hill.

"You've shown me a lot of cool things, now it's my turn." He answers her as he gently sets her down in the evening glow of the dipping sun. "Here, lemme get that blanket." He asks of her as he takes the schoolbag from off of Luna's back. Stretching it out, he reaches for her once he sits down. "Lay with me, please?" He requests.

"Where are we?" Luna asks as she curls up next to his body.

"Just wait." Colson gently instructs as he lights a blunt.

On a quiet hill somewhere in LA, Colson and Luna snuggle up together in the warm summer's air as the sun falls off the edge of The Earth. The night's sky slowly creeping around them. Luna's breath catches in her chest as she takes in Colson's surprise. It's a WHOLE sky filled with stars.

"I knew you'd appreciate this." He smiles to himself as he kisses the top of her head.

"It's so beautiful... How did you ever find this?" She asks in amazement.

"Mod showed me one night when we were tripping. It's the ONLY place you can see the stars out here." Colson breathes in deeply as he pulls her closer.

They lay together pointing out what they think are different constellations. Debating what's a satellite and what's a star. Luna drawing out Orion's Belt as Colson shows her where he believes to be The Big and Little Dipper are.

"So you really don't believe in soulmates?" Colson asks Luna again under the cosmic sky.

"No. Not one. I believe we're destined to love who we love... And I love you, Bunny. What's the difference?" She asks him.

"I don't know... I guess I find the whole idea of belonging to one person to be comforting and romantic. It's like having a predestined home." The idealistic yet hurt little boy inside of him answers.

"Oh, Bunny... " Luna purrs as she snuggles closer to him. "I am your home. Forever. Married, not married. Soulmates, not soulmates. I know a lot of shit but there's not much I'm sure of." Luna admits. "I am sure that I've loved since I saw you but that I wasn't meant to truly meet you until I did." She places his hand in the middle of her breasts so he can feel her beating heart. "We are who we are for a reason and right now... Our reason is the only thing that makes sense or matters to me."

Colson grabs her chest with a firm lightness. Holding their feelings tightly inside of his large palm. After a moment he gently rolls his body so that he looms over top of Luna. Staring down at her, he brushes the random stands of hair from her face. Leaning on his forearms, he dips down to kiss her passionately. She runs her fingers along the sides of his face into the back of his hair as she pulls him closer and kisses him firmly.

Their touches are sweet and soft under the star filled sky. They slowly undress each other as their kisses linger on their bare skin. Colson and Luna stare into each other's souls as he fully enters her. Making them both shake from their pure feelings and emotions.

It's not often that Colson and Luna make love. They usually fuck the shit out of each other. Tonight they're not animals. They're intimate lovers, both taking their time. Dropping heartfelt I love yous into each other's ears as they softly pant and moan. Soulmates or not, Luna and Colson are in this shit called Life together. Forever.

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

2Xs2

To be continued...

#alunaticandhergunn #lunaandcolson #lunasmith #lunatic #tragic love #longstory #long post #long reads #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly smut #machine gun kelly #not safe for tumblr #not safe for minors #fanfic #mgk smut #colson baker #mgk fanfic #mgk #mgk fluff #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgkxx #colson baker fanfic #colsonbaker #colson baker smut #smutwarning #est4life #est19xx #est #wattpadstories

[malumsmermaid]

Puppy Love (C.H.)

Late night post but uh, it’s a cute one, based on this video I saw earlier this evening.

Word Count: 2243

Warnings: None

You were on your last patient of the day. You’d gone ahead and sent the vet techs and assistants home, this last pet just a standard checkup, plus it was Wednesday so you weren’t really expecting any emergencies. “You’re all clear Duke!” you said excitedly, giving the small dog a treat and a scratch between his ears. You handed Duke back to his dad and began leading him back to the front, going behind the counter to collect payment. You were about to hand him the piece of paper with all of the reminders of Duke’s upcoming needs, including another checkup next year when a person burst through the door, eyes wide as they looked to you.

“Hi, uh, I found this dog on the side of the road and she looked like she was in distress when I picked her up, so I was already bringing her here and I just opened the trunk of my car to bring her in and she’s having puppies.”

Your eyes went wide as you stared at the new patient, nodding quickly. Duke’s owner moved quicker than you however, handing you his dog as he said, “Dr. (Y/L/N) I’ll help her get the dog out of the car. Do whatever you need to do to get ready for puppies.”

You nodded quickly, setting Duke behind the counter before hopping over and running to the back, loading up an exam table with blankets and towels and turning on the oxygen cage before throwing a couple layers of blankets in there as well. You ran back to the front, holding the door open as they brought the laboring mother into the vet office and leading the way back to where you were set up.

The woman who found the dog stared as you rushed around, putting on gloves and a mask. “I have to go home and get my family’s dinner started, but can you give me an update later?” she asked, looking on worriedly.

You nodded, smiling under the mask. “Of course, ma’am. Just write your number on a sticky note up front and I’ll give you a call once I’ve got everyone stable here. Thank you so much for bringing her in.”

The woman nodded and stared over as you got to work checking the dog. She thanked the man for helping her carry the dog in before walking back to the front. You registered the front door shutting a minute later, but were focused on the puppy currently trying to make its way into the world.

“Ok, doc, tell me what to do.” “Mr. Hood, you don’t have to stay and help.” “It’s Calum, and you don’t exactly have anyone else here, I’ll stay out of your way, but I think you could use an extra pair of hands.”

You sighed, nodding slowly as you glanced towards him. “Grab some towels from under the sink over there and put on a pair of gloves. When this baby comes out I’m gonna need you to rub it and get it warm and mostly dry, then put it in the oxygen kennel over there. It’s the one with the glass door.”

Calum nodded and did as he was told, making it back over just as the first puppy finally made it the rest of the way out. He set the stack down, quickly unfolding one and holding it out to receive the puppy. You smiled as you listened to him cooing and coddling the small creature for a few minutes before gently setting it in the kennel.

“We’ll sex them and get their vitals and weight once I know we’ve gotten everyone out of their mama.” you add, glancing over your shoulder at him before gently prodding the dog’s stomach, trying to guess how many puppies she had in her. Calum simply nodded, preparing to grab a fresh towel, throwing the used one in the laundry bin he spotted.

“Hopefully we don’t run out of towels before she’s done.” he joked, smiling as he watched you work.

You hummed quietly, smiling to yourself as you pressed the stethoscope to her stomach and chest, lovingly petting her as you waited for signs that the next puppy was on its way.

~~~~~~

Six more puppies and a couple of hours later, it was all over. You praised the mom, giving her head a loving scratch and squishing her cheeks. She wagged her tail before looking over her shoulder for her babies. “It’s ok sweetheart, you just rest a little. We’re gonna take good care of your babies and see what all you’ve had before we let them have breakfast, ok?”

Calum just smiled, holding out the seventh and final puppy that he still had wrapped in a towel. You gently took it and asked him to get a pad of paper so you could write everything down. He walked back over and you began listening to all the puppies, finding out how many boys and girls there were and how much each little creature weighed. You did a quick description of each puppy’s coat color and pattern before adding in their weight and measurements as well as their sex. Calum just watched as you went through each one, paying attention to which puppies he had already given you until all seven were ccataloged

“You have two healthy boys and one healthy girl Momma” you said happily once you were finished, walking back over to lift her and made the way across the room to reunite her with her babies. “I’m sure they’re very hungry too.”

Calum chuckled as he watched you carry her, holding the kennel door open as you set her down, careful to make sure she wouldn’t be laying on any of her puppies. You made sure the pups were able to find their way to their mom to feed before taking off your gloves and mask, throwing them away before turning to Calum. “Thank you so much for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it.”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I’m sure you would’ve managed somehow, you’re a good vet.”

You blushed a little. “I gotta stay overnight now, keep an eye on everyone I guess. Better text my roommate to make sure she gets all my animals at home taken care of.”

Calum smiled, “Want some company? I just have to take Duke home and give him his dinner, my roommate can take care of him after that, would be nice to spend more time with the puppies too.”

You smiled, “If you want to, it’s just gonna be sitting in an empty vets office checking on puppies every hour.” He laughed, “I’ve had worse nights. I’ll grab some pizza on my way back, sound good?”

You nodded, walking him back to the front. “I’m gonna lock up once you and Duke leave, hope we don’t have anymore surprise visitors. Just call the office when you get back.”

Calum nodded and you smiled, handing him Duke and the paper before watching them walk out, Calum telling the dog about the new puppies. You shook your head, smiling as you locked the door behind them before going back to the back room. You picked up all the soiled towels and blankets, putting them into the washing machine before going through your bag which was sitting on the counter. You didn’t have any extra scrubs so you’d be spending the night in leggings and a black v-neck, but you didn’t mind.

Once you’d changed you picked up the paper with all of the puppies’ information on it before going back to the front, picking up the note with the lady’s number on it. You called, giving her a quick update and thanking her for picking up the dog in the first place, as well as getting her there so fast.

After you hung up you were about to go check on the puppies again when you saw headlights coming into the parking lot. You waited, fingers crossed that it wasn’t another emergency when the car parked. Thankfully when you watched the person get out of the car, he was holding two pizza boxes and a two liter and you knew it was just Calum, coming back like he had promised. You sighed, coming back around the desk to let him in, smiling up at him. “Thank you so much, you really didn’t have to do any of this.”

He shook his head, setting everything down. “Course I did. I have a great vet and she needs to be appreciated every now and then. It was so cool watching you work in more than just checking on my dog and interacting with other people in the office and their animals, especially with all the little guys I got to hold while you did your job.”

You smiled up at him, leading him to the back, each of you carrying one pizza box. You sat down on the couch in the corner, turning on a tv and setting everything on the coffee table. “This is our ‘we have a late night ahead of us’ corner we made. Got a keurig too if you want coffee later.” Calum smiled and nodded, grabbing two of the solo cups stacked on the counter and pouring you each a soda before joining you on the couch.

You both talked quietly for a while, eating pizza and getting to know each other outside of your relationship as a vet and pet owner. You checked on the puppies and their mom a few times, all of them were doing well and the puppies were all eating. After the first three hours you began doing your usual closing duties, wiping down and mopping the small exam rooms, cleaning up the lobby, and sanitizing everything. Calum stayed in the back room, watching the little family and ready to alert you if anything strange happened. Everything was fine and you both stayed up, continuing the monitoring process, chatting and drinking a couple cups of coffee. You both hummed each time you looked at mama and her puppies, trying to come up with some names.

~~~~~~~

Finally the morning came and you walked Calum to the front, “Thank you again. For everything.” you said, stretching and trying to hold back a yawn.

“Of course, it’s no problem.” he smiled, holding his arms out.

You let him wrap you in a hug, wrapping your own arms around his waist and let your eyes close as your head hit his chest. Not for the first time this morning you thought about what it would be like to be able to use Calum as a pillow, but you quickly pushed that thought aside as you felt him begin to pull away.

“I’m gonna call the foster home that I usually send newborns to. They just got rid of the last of their most recent litter, so hopefully they’re prepared for some more.” You smiled as you slowly backed away. “If they are I’ll wait for them to show up before going home and getting some sleep.”

Calum smiled, nodding, “Lemme know about them, give me some updates, and maybe I’ll see if Duke would be happy sharing me with one of them when they’re old enough.”

You nodded, “That would be great if you could.” he watched as you went back behind the front desk, slowly beginning the call. While you were busy, he wrote you a note, putting it closer to you before leaving, smiling and waving goodbye as he left. You waved back and the door closed just as the foster picked up.

Once you’d ended the call, you got up to look at what he’d written, and you blushed.

When I first started bringing Duke here it was just because this office was close to our house. Then I found out the vet was really cute, in addition to being good at her job. It was nice spending the night with you, and I hope you get some rest today. But afterwards…would it be weird to get to know my vet on a first name basis? Up to you doc, text me if it’s ok.-Calum

You grinned. You may have been tired and a little delirious but you ran to the back, grabbing your phone from your bag, still clutching the note. You entered his number into a new chat, sending him a quick text before adding him to your contacts.

Hey Calum, it’s Dr. (Y/L/N) I don’t think us being on a first name basis is too weird. Rest well, text me later.

You smiled to yourself, before quickly adding: It’s (Y/N) btw.

You hummed quietly, walking back to the front again while you waited for the foster parent to come pick up the puppies. She showed up half an hour later, a large crate packed down with blankets resting in her car and you helped her get all the puppies out, giving her a copy you’d made of the chart, which also had a few doodles and the names you and Calum had chosen as you went through the night. You both smiled and thanked each other and she left. You knew you’d see the family again soon and you quickly left a note for the people who would arrive in a couple of hours before driving yourself home, crawling into bed and going to sleep.

#calum hood #calum hood fluff #calum hood 5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood 5 seconds of summer #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum fluff #calum hood x reader #calum x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum x y/n #duke hood #duke #cal

[elapsed-spiral]

Mark Means Business - First Chapter! (M/M gay comedy “romance” novel)

I may have already mentioned(!) but I wrote a book! Here’s the first chapter for anyone interested in checking it out. Warnings for explicit language and content (in ch 2). If you like what you read, search for “Mark Means Business” on Amazon to read chapter two for free as well! 

If you’re a fan of funny but awful characters and shows like It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, Black Books and Bojack Horseman, Mark Means Business might be what you’re looking for. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Simon

(Wednesday Afternoon)

The crowd roars. 

The stage lights cook him until sweat is dripping off his clammy chin. 

Girls make desperate grabs at his legs, their make-up streaked from sobbing his name. 

He grabs the microphone stand, metal hot in his palm, opens his mouth and-

“Ground control to Geoff, come in Geoff.”

 “Who’s Geoff?” Simon looks up, his arms still buried in the rack of floral nightgowns.

“You are,” Leah says, “according to your name badge.”

“Oh, yeah, I left mine at home.”

“Least you’re not Ethel today.”

He makes a point of straightening the badge. Leah ignores him in favour of judging his progress tidying the nightgowns.

“You remember how to count, yeah?” she asks. “School’s not that long ago.”

“I got distracted.”

“You’re not winning employee of the month any time soon, Pratt.”

“Lucky they don’t have that here.” He yanks a few size 8s from the middle and shoves them to the front of the display. “S’your fault for showing me up.”

“It’d be pretty bloody stupid, slacking off when I’m gonna be a graduate manager.”

“See, this is why you went to uni, Leah.” He wags a rogue hanger for emphasis. “You’ve got that wisdom.”

“Cheek of you, giving your future boss lip.”

“Could we keep dating if you were my boss? Isn’t that like an abuse of power or something?”

“It’s Paul and Tompkins lingerie department Si, not the army. Reckon we’re fine.” She bats his arm away before he’s got it halfway around her waist, grabs the hanger and gives him a whack. “Back to work, slacker.”

“Yes boss.” He diligently reorders more nightgowns while she picks up a pair of stray knickers and slips them back in their pack. It’s not long before he feels his thoughts stray.

She shoots him a sidelong look. “What?”

“I was thinking about the gig.”

“Course you were. Tonight the night? Think any record labels will have caught wind of it?”

He gives the nightgowns an unnecessarily rough shove to make more room on the rail.

“A boy can dream.”

“Dream being the keyword.” She purses her lips like she’s tasted something sour. “Simon-”

“Oi, no negativity,” he says. “I’m all about visualising success nowadays. Visualise your goals and they’ll happen, right? That’s what New Age people do.”

“New Age people?” He knows he’s lost her from the way her words start dragging. 

“Yeah, like Madonna and that.” He follows her gaze and spots a leather jacketed figure across the aisle flicking squirrely looks around, arm clasped over a bulging shopping bag. Simon and Leah exchange a knowing look. 

“Think I’ll go and check if that customer needs any assistance,” Leah says. 

Simon sidles over to the thermal vests to keep in earshot, resisting the urge to turn and watch proceedings. 

“Can I help?” Simon clamps his mouth shut to keep from snorting at Leah’s sunny tone. 

“Yeah. Looking for some lingerie.” The stranger’s accent is Northern, though Simon’s clueless as to where. 

“For a special lady, I assume?” Leah asks a little mockingly. Simon disguises a laugh with a cough. 

“Let’s start with her,” the stranger says. “I can always come back for something skimpy for me next payday, eh Leah?” 

She gives a surprised laugh. “What sort of thing does she like?”

The stranger clicks his tongue in thought. “Red ‘n’ racy.”

“Paul and Tompkins’s probably not your best bet. We do have some nice silky sets in at the moment, though.” 

Simon shuffles further right as they head towards the silk and lace collection behind him. He hears the snick of hangers on a rail. 

“What size is she?” Leah asks. 

“I’d say about your size-”

Simon spins around before the words have left the stranger’s mouth. He registers waist length black hair and a battered leather jacket, boots and jeans, all in black. Sharp brown eyes narrow with amusement in a square face dominated by a Roman nose. After a quick glance at his name badge, the man returns Simon’s look keenly. 

“You alright, Geoff?” Roman Nose asks faux politely. 

Simon feels his nostrils flare. Leah looks ready to make a warning grab for his arm but he sidesteps her, stomping closer to the man. 

“What’s in your bag?” Roman Nose opens his mouth, evidently ready to bullshit, but Simon plows on. “You planning to buy that lot?” He jerks his head at the till bank. “Lemme show you where you can pay.”

“How kind.”

“Just an oversight, shoving it all in your bag like that, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Roman Nose darts looks between Simon and Leah, grin growing. “Flirting with your girlfriend though? Totally intentional.”

Simon can’t track what happens next. Leah growls a protest as he launches himself at Roman Nose’s retreating back. Roman Nose’s boots squeak on the lino as he legs it to the back exit. Threatening to wind himself on a stand of night cream, Simon barrels after him, ignoring Leah’s warning yells and the gasps from old dears browsing the tights display. His knee starts twinging when he gets onto the rain soaked street, but he sets his teeth against the pain, spots a trail of abandoned thongs and follows them into Soho. 

He turns into a side street and sees Roman Nose in the distance, legs akimbo as he pounds down the pavement, splashing through puddles. 

“Oi!” Simon yells. Roman Nose accelerates. “Oi, crackhead! I’m talking to you!”

Simon sucks in a breath and imagines he’s tearing down a football pitch, ignoring how his polyester trousers chafe. Roman Nose leads them into an alleyway littered with abandoned pint glasses and cigarette butts. He closes the distance as Roman Nose staggers to a halt. 

The man offers him an unnervingly broad grin as he struggles for breath. “M’more of a whizz man, actually.”

Simon makes to charge at him when Roman Nose yanks a silky black bra out of his bag, winding his arm back as though ready to lob it. Simon instinctively flinches and Roman Nose starts laughing like a stalling, chuntering engine. 

“Well, that doesn’t bode well for the lovely Leah, does it?” Roman Nose asks. 

Simon stomps to a halt inches from the man, eyes threatening to cross with the proximity. “You fancy a slap?”

“Always,” Roman Nose says. The sour tang of unbrushed teeth and stale alcohol wafts hot on Simon’s face. He takes an instinctive step back but returns Roman Nose’s intent stare. “Anyone’d think you were having fun.”

His jaw clenches. “What?” 

“Nice being outside, in’t it, getting some air. Lovely and fresh after the rain too, really shifts the piss smell.” Roman Nose jerks his head towards the end of the alleyway. “You done much exploring in Soho? Heartily recommend checking out the girls off Brewer Street, they give great massages.” Simon can hear the air quotes. “Leah might give you a bollocking for that though, eh Si?”

The name makes his stomach twist. He thins his mouth to keep from asking how the man knows his name and looks at his bulging shopping bag instead. Roman Nose clutches the handles. 

“Think you’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, Si.” The man takes a few swaggering steps backwards down the alleyway. “Stay out any longer and your boss might reckon you’re slacking off. We can’t have that.”

“Who the fuck’re you?” 

Roman Nose’s eyes crease in apparent delight. 

“Me? I’m an absolute bastard. Anyway,” the man wafts a dismissive hand, “off you fuck, back to tidying nighties. I’m late for taking over the world. Toodle loo!” Roman Nose gives him a quick, puckered air kiss before spinning around and charging away. 

Simon catches himself before he can go pelting after him, glowering at the spot Roman Nose had occupied, while waiting for his heart to stop thudding. 

Swallowing against the dryness in his mouth, Simon blinks hard to try and clear his thoughts before retracing his steps. He stoops to collect each abandoned thong and bra he encounters, pointedly ignoring the baffled looks he gets from people on their fag breaks as he loops them over one wrist. 

When he reaches P&Ts, he turns and studies the street one last time before heading inside, forehead furrowed hard enough to risk bringing on a headache. He slopes over to the fitting rooms to grab some spare hangers and starts rehanging everything while events cycle in his head like an action replay. 

“Took your time. Burying the body?” 

He jumps despite himself, recovering quickly by plastering a smile on his face. Leah takes in the bras and pants hooked over his arm. 

“Was that everything he took?” she asks. 

“No, he legged it. He said some proper shit.” 

“What shit?”

Simon flounders, struck by how ridiculous their conversation will sound. “Just, shit. Total twat, definitely high.”

Leah takes the remaining underwear from his wrist and deftly hangs it. 

“Well you defended P&Ts’ honour and that’s what counts.”

“Getting employee of the month for that.” Simon thinks about going for a kiss but can readily imagine the telling off it’ll get him.

“If they had that here,” she says. “You’re due on tills y’know? I told Pauline you were having toilet troubles to buy you time.”

He grimaces. “Why’d you go with that and not stories of my heroics?”

“Cause I thought it was funny, Pratt,” she smirks as she struts away. “Like you thought that poem you wrote in the school toilets was funny: Leah Colman is properly fit, she’s got a great pair of double D-” She quickly jerks one bra up to chest height. 

“Oi, that was Ryan! You know I’m crap at lyrics.” 

She scoffs as she disappears into the thicket of bra stands. 

Simon feels the last of the adrenaline seeping out of his system as he sidles over to the tills. After returning Pauline’s sympathetic grimace, he logs himself onto one and lets his gaze settle on middle distance. Time moves in fits and starts, speeding up when customers materialise and slowing glacially when the shop floor empties. He mentally stacks his wages in ten pence increments as the minutes tick by, then stacks the pennies until they’re pounds, until he’s paid for his day’s tube travel. He imagines what he’ll spend the rest on: pints with Ryan, a nice meal with Leah, a day out in Southend. 

Roman Nose smirks, inches from his face. 

Simon shoves the thought aside in favour of imagining where he’ll be a year from now. He makes a concentrated effort to visualise some possibility that doesn’t involve singing to a packed Wembley Arena. As though in protest, his brain offers him the opposite: laid on a creeper under someone’s clapped out Ford Mondeo in his dad’s garage, straining to hear the radio over the sound of pneumatic tools. 

Roman Nose looks so smackably amused. Amused by Simon, by his polyester trousers, shirt and name badge. 

Like clockwork, Pauline’s ankles start swelling mid-afternoon so Simon offers to hold down the fort while she takes a walk around the department. He waits until she’s out of earshot before tapping rhythms on the counter edge. His brow knits as he drums, breath held in anticipation of crafting something new and novel. He hums along, fingers twitchy with excitement as he convinces himself he’s concocting something new, only to realise seconds later that he’s remembering a Heaven 17 tune. By the time Pauline’s returned, he’s back to daydreaming about sweating under spotlights, but the girls in the audience are laughing not cheering, their voices gravelly and chuntering. 

Leah does the honours of locking up when closing time finally arrives. Simon pulls off Geoff’s name badge and chucks it back in the spares box. He sits on the counter, swinging his feet while Leah diligently trots around the shop floor, locking tills, closing fitting rooms and bidding everyone a good evening. When she’s done, she collects him like he’s a dog tied up outside a corner shop and they grab their bags from the locker room. 

“D’you need to get your coursework done before the gig?” he asks.

“Nah, I’ve finished with assignments now.” She leads the way down Wardour Street, luckily avoiding the route he’d sprinted earlier.

“Doctor Colman.”

“It’s a Business Management undergrad degree Si, not quite.”

The nickname sends his thoughts back to wet alleyways and waist length hair. Leah gives him a look while they wait at the traffic lights on Shaftesbury Avenue. 

“You’ve got a face like thunder.”

Simon slaps on a smile. “Sorry, m’mind drifted.”

“You still thinking about that bloke?” 

He winces at the accuracy of her mind reading. “A bit, I guess. He was such a weirdo.”

“Must’ve been, to distract you from thinking about your gig. Sorry, I mean visualising it,” she corrects, playfully bumping her hip against his. 

He tries not to dwell on her choice of words - his gig, not their gig - knowing full well he doesn’t want to know her reasons. 

“I think I’ve seen him before,” she says, jolting him from his thoughts. 

“What, at P&Ts?”

“No, somewhere else.” Her face scrunches with thought before she huffs out a breath. “Can’t remember, bet it’ll come to me later.”

“Definitely got a face you’d remember. Face only a mother could love.” Leah makes to give Simon his customary peck goodbye at the ticket barrier. “Aren’t you coming back wimme to Barking?”

“No, I’ll meet you there,” she says. 

 “Why? If you’re done with studying, what’re you doing?”

“Packing, what else?”

“Didn’t your landlord agree that you could stay in your flat a little longer?” 

“No, they’ve already got a new tenant lined up so I’ve gotta be out by next Monday.”

“But your new flat isn’t available yet, where’re you gonna go?”

“I dunno yet. It’s only a week, I’ll stay in a hostel if I really have to. Me and Fiona are asking around on the scheme to see if anyone’s got a spare sofa.”

“That new landlord’s given you a right run-around,” he mutters. 

“Not a lot I can do about it, is there? I’ve already signed the lease.”

“You could end it and move back home, it’d save you some money.”

“You can’t just end it, that’s not how leases work.”

“Well, when it expires then.”

“I’ll be making way more money when I start on the scheme,” Leah says, “I don’t need to move back home. Hayley moved into my old room, anyway, she’d have a fit if I asked for it back.” 

“We’d get more time together if you moved back to Barking.”

“We’d get more time together if you moved in closer.”

“I can’t afford that, just working at P&Ts, my mum’d never let it drop.”

“So you need to come up with somewhere else to work, don’t you?” she says, tone getting tetchy. “Dream bigger or dream smaller, New Age Man.”

“Alright, alright, just don’t leave it too late, getting to Barking, we’re on at nine thirty.”

“I know, you’ve only said ten times today.”

“Sure you can’t just come now?”

“Simon, all I need to do is have a shower and slap some make up on. It’s not like I need to practice, I barely do anything, you’re the one doing all the singing and playing.”

“Not all of it.”

“Most of it. I better get going, I’ll see you later. Wear the gold suit, you haven’t worn it in a while.” 

Leah gives his hand a quick squeeze before heading for the Bakerloo platform.

“Yes boss,” Simon says, saluting her retreating back. 

He waits for the Upminster service to pull into the platform, drops onto a worn, lumpy seat and does his best to imagine the future, looking at the darkened window of the tube train like he’s crystal ball gazing. His own weary face stares blankly back.

#Mark Means Business #gay romance #gay comedy #gay comedy romance #original fiction #apologies for the formatting #Tumblr not a fan of indents

[megansescape]

Revenge isn’t easy

A/N: This was written by @deals-with-demons(now @evilskank-inthemegacoven) and @megansescape for Buddy Challenge: Mix and Match. The prompts we chose was Siren, Old Photograph and “They ate my tailor!”. This is part one. The two prompts we used are bolded and the last one will be in part two. Please enjoy and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Tags are below the cut, tags are from @mrswhozeewhatsis list.

Summary: When on the run from the family that ruined your life, you make an  unexpected ally. You both seek revenge for the wrongs that you have suffered and maybe together, you can help each other heal.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Swearing.

Siren!Reader x Lucifer (eventually)

Words: 1191

Beta’d By: @megansescape

Gifs not ours: 

Rushing through your motel room, you collected your things, throwing them haphazardly into your duffel. You didn’t have much time, they would be here soon and you knew you wouldn't be able to fight them off. These weren’t just your regular, run of the mill hunters, these were Winchesters and few had managed to come away from a fight with a Winchester.

The first time you were lucky, Henry Winchester was a man of letters, not a hunter. He had been able to destroy your family but you had managed to get away. His grandkids were legendary, you had been stupid to think you could take them on but you had to try. For Y/H/N sake. For everything that you had lost.

It was rare for sirens to fall in love and when you had told Henry you honestly loved your husband and kids he had refused to believe it; like every other hunter or men of letters did when they found out.

Your family had meant everything to you; and you planned to avenge them. But now was not the time. No, this was one time that you needed to run; you wasn’t ready to face them yet.

Looking around the room one last time, you made sure you had everything before grabbing your bag. Just as you were zipping it up, you heard a familiar engine roar outside. They had found you. Making your way to the bathroom with your bag, you quickly closed the door and locked it. Darting for the bathroom window, you opened it slightly, checking to see if it was clear or not.

Once you were convinced it was safe you tossed your bag out then followed. As soon as you were out you grabbed your bag and ran. Luckily for you, you had parked your car a block from the hotel you were at.

You had taken a moment to look back and in that moment you bumped right into someone.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” You spun around to see a strange man behind, you could tell he was a hunter, the confidence was practically rolling off him. He was staring at you with hardened, emerald eyes. “You know...I know what you are.” He pointed to the window beside you, which showed your true siren form. “Funny enough we weren’t here for you. We’re looking for someone else. But I’ll take what I can get.”

He made a run for you, you turned and ran just in time to see another, taller hunter come running round the corner of the motel. With no other choice you took to the woods.

You leaned against a tree; you could feel yourself panicking. You weren’t ready to face the boys, not yet. And what had he said; he wasn’t there for you. “Looks like you’re on the run.”

You turned to see a man smiling. “Who are you?”

His smile grew wider. “Lucifer.” Panic turned into confusion.

“As in the Devil?”

He stretched out his arms and gave a small bow. “In the flesh… more or less.”

“Right… wait, you’re the one those hunters are after.”

“Guilty, maybe we can help each other.”  The next moment you weren’t in the forest any more.

Looking around you realised that you were in a dark, dusty place. It took your eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the new level of light, though your supernatural eyesight kicked in and allowed you to see much clearer in the dark. Suddenly the entire room lit up, burning your eyes. “Son of a bitch.” You roared as you dropped your bag, both hands coming up to cover your eyes.

“Woah, sorry about that there. Didn’t mean to make it so bright.” He spoke sheepishly. He dimmed the lights enough for you to be able to open your eyes, at least without causing any additional pain. “Lemme see.” He pulled your face up to his, opening your damaged eyes to get a better look at them.

He placed his fingers against your forehead and you felt warmth wrap around your body, soothing the pain in your eyes, along with the headache you had received from it. “What was that?” You asked, blinking rapidly.

“My grace. Just healed you up a bit.” Lucifer smirked down at you.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m feeling generous today.”

“Alright, you said we could help each other. How?”

He smirked. “We both want the Winchesters out of the picture.”

Your lips tightened. “And how do you know that?”

“I seen the way you looked at them, you were frightened but angry.”

“I want them destroyed. I want them to suffer. How can you help me with that?” You looked him dead in the eyes. “Do I have to make some deal with you? Pledge myself to you?”

Lucifer grinned at you. “Only if you want to.” He winked. “No I want the Winchesters gone just as much as you…”

“I doubt it.” You snapped fiercely.

“Now, now don’t be rude.” He wagged his finger in your face. “I want your help, but it is gonna take a little time to get all the things together.”

“You’re the Devil. Shouldn’t you be able to just snap your fingers and end them?” You thought he was an all-powerful being, how could he not deal with two measly hunters?

“My father, God, he gave them protection. I can not harm them in any way.” Lucifer explained, moving away from you to walk to one of the many bookcases lining the walls. “But there is a spell. A spell that can destroy them, make them suffer their worst fears over and over again.”

You scoffed. “So why don’t you find some lackey to do it then? Why keep them around any longer?”

“It needs to be cast by someone who feels pure hatred for them. Unfortunately while many demons hate them, it’s not pure. You though...Damn I can feel the hatred rolling off of you.” He threw you a book, you reached out to grab it as it flew through the air.

“What’s this?” You asked, opening up the old book, taking care of it’s delicate pages. When you didn’t hear an answer you looked to him, seeing a cocky grin on his face.

“The Winchesters future.”

You sat down as you continued to look through the book; your foot knocking over your bag in the process.

Lucifer leaned down, picking up the old photograph that had fallen out. “Is this why you hate the Winchesters?”

You looked up to see what he was talking about; once you seen what he had you rushed over and took it from him. “Yeah.” You sighed as you picked up your bag and put the picture back in it’s pocket.

He put his finger to his lips. “Touchy subject? Who knew a monster could care so much.”

You rolled your eyes. “The way I see it is I’m just a different race. Anyone… even an angel can care or love even hate.”

“You may be right there.”  He smiled at you. “But you may also be wrong.”

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