#implied happy ending? i guess? as happy as it can be with uh ma and pa still dead

[hedgiwithapen]

Oooh can we get a continuation of that ‘bb!Clark kidnapped by US Govt’ au—in which tween Lois is accompanying her dad on a Take Your Child to Work Day or something, and (sneaks off and) meets his trainee superweapon? Or maybe Sam brings Clark home for dinner one night to acclimate him to average human life before an undercover mission?

followup to this one from earlier this DHD weekend! It came down to the babysitter coming down with the flu. Reluctantly, Sam assured Mandy this would be a one time occurrence, and then sat Lucy and Lois down in an empty conference room, with a stack of coloring books, markers, textbooks, and a backpack full of distractions and snacks from home.

“Stay in here. Do not leave this room,” he said, giving his girls each a quick, loose hug. “Lois, do your homework. Lucy, draw something nice for us to take to Mommy, ok? If you get bored, uh.. just… text me, I’ll have something else for you to do.”

Lucy saluted, already scribbling. Lois saw her dad wince as the markers skipped across the paper and onto the table. “Ok, sir,” she said, but she could see the look on his face, and beamed, like it was just a joke. It was, mostly.

“Lo, I mean it. Stay put.”

She nodded, serious. The minute he was gone, she glanced into her palm. His keycard almost glittered in the light. She grinned, and then sighed.

She did her homework. Both her parents--usually Mom, on her good days-- insisted homework had to come first. She did six math problems of the fifteen assigned, which was basically half, right? Swinging her legs, she looked at her Language arts assignment, which was the same as starting it, which was close enough to finishing it. She could write a book report in her sleep, and who needed to study for a spelling test, anyways?

Lucy kept coloring.

"I'm gonna go explore," Lois told her sister.

"Daddy said to stay here," Lucy said.

"Yeah, well, I'm going anyways. You in?"

"I'm coloring," Lucy said, very serious. Lois took that as a 'no.'

The keycard locks made a very satisfying beep and click noise, lighting up green when she pressed her dad's badge against them. The first few rooms she poked her head into were empty, or boring. Filing cabinets were cool to climb on, but She was getting too big for that, and they never had much interesting in them, just papers. Adults loved papers.

One room was labeled 'secure, no unauthorized personnel' which Lois thought was a great sign, literally and figuratively. There had to be something really cool through it. She swiped the keycard against the scanner, already up on her tiptoes like that would get her in faster.

The light inside was red, like the photo darkroom she'd seen on a school trip once. "Coooool," Lois breathed, peering around. Movement drew her eye, and she took a step back, already rehearsing the story she'd give if she got caught.

Her eyes adjusted before whoever it was could yell at her, and she realized why.

A boy about her age was sitting in the corner on a camping cot, looking at her with wide blue eyes.

She took a step forward. "Hi," she said, boldly, sticking out a hand. "I'm Lois. Who are you?"

"I…I'm a weapon," the boy said with uncertainty, not moving to shake. Lois frowned.

"I'm a journalist-in-training," she said, finally dropping her arm. "But I was asking your name."

He blinked, lifting a hand to his neck. Lois's eyes widened. "Oh my god," she said. "That's--um. Are you…ok?" She'd thought for a second he was like her, waiting for a parent to finish work, but that was a shock collar. Like the kind for dogs. And he still hadn't given her a name, and she wasn't much good at math but one plus one absolutely made two and this plus that absolutely made This Is Bad.

"No," the boy said, in such a small voice it broke her heart.

She crossed the room fast. It was easy, being much taller than it was long or wide. "Um, it's gonna be ok," she tried. They were empty type words, words people used when nothing was going to be ok, but this was something that could be fixed. Her fingers felt for a latch, and found a sensor instead.

Her Dad couldn't have known about this. He wouldn't. But he had a lot of clearance, so maybe the card would be programed anyways? She tried it, and a red light clicked off as the collar dropped away. "Is that better?" she asked, hopefully. The boy just shrugged.

"I--think so," he said. "I want to go home."

"Okay," Lois said. "We just have to find my dad. He's gonna be mad I stole his card, but that's okay! it's for the greater good. He'll fix this." She reached for the boy's hand, tugging him to his feet. "C'mon."

Opening the door again was easy, but she hadn't realized it was soundproofed until she opened the door. Some kind of alarm was going. Glancing up, she noticed for the first time the camera pointed at the door, stuck to the ceiling. She would have waved, sheepishly, at getting caught, but she was too angry.

A bunch of people in the uniform her dad wore stood in the hall, blocking the way back to the conference room. They held guns. Lois swallowed. "I'm Lois Lane," she said. "My dad's General Samuel Lane. He's in charge. He outranks you. I need to talk to him." They were the words he'd taught her if the military ever tried to intimidate her, and they sure were trying now.

"Lois," her dad's voice echoed over footsteps, and Lois's heart leaped even as she felt the boy behind her shrink back. Like he was scared. She was scared too, of the guns, but not of her dad.

"Dad, some people were holding this boy pr--"

"Lois, get away from it, right now."

"It?" she echoed, blinking in confusion.

"Now, Lois. That's an order."

"Dad?" she asked. "I don't… you--knew about him?"

"It's a weapon, Lois. It'll hurt you. Come over here."

"No." She couldn't. She wouldn't. Something in her gut told her that this was wrong. She trusted that more than her dad. It hadn't failed her yet. She gripped the boy's hand tight. "I won't let you hurt him."

"Clark," the boy whispered behind her, still sounding so scared, like he thought it might be the last thing he'd get to say. She nodded.

"I won't let you hurt Clark," she corrected herself.

She saw the hesitation in her father's eyes. She lifted her chin.

"Lois…" her father said. He closed his eyes, and lifted a hand.

The soldiers in the hall lowered their guns.

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #My Adventures With Superman #Lois Lane #Same Lane #Clark Kent #implied happy ending? i guess? as happy as it can be with uh ma and pa still dead #clark is going to need a lot of therapy and mom lane needs a divorce tbh

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Is family for forever?

(Warning, sexual themes included)

One day, while in chaldea, Rex was on his way back to his room after some time farming. Once he opens the door, he's greeted to an interesting sight.

*door opens*

Rex: finally, time to na- oh fuck!

???: Hola, Rex ;)

Before him laid his sister in law, Caster class servant, Tlazolteotl. Aztec goddess of sin and lust, with her breasts laid bare.

Rex, covering his eyes: Tlaz! What the fuck!?

Tlaz: mmmm.... just waiting for you to come back... wanting a bit of fun...!

Rex: Tlaz! I'm married! To your sister!

Tlaz: I know.... but I'm the patron of adultery remember? So it shouldn't be surprising for me to ask....

Rex: but I'm not a fucking adulterer!

Tlaz: I can change that

Rex: unlikely!

Then the door opens, and Quetz walks in.

Quetz: hola? What's happen- oh! Hermana! Que estas haciendo?!

Tlaz: my job! Technically....

Rex: mi corazon! It's not what you think!

Quetz: I know mi amor, I should've figured she'd pull this.

After a bit, Quetz is seen taking Tlaz out of their room, while Tlaz covers her breasts with her top.

Quetz: ques eso?! Why'd you do that?!

Tlaz: you already know! I'm supposed to test spouses of their loyalty!

Quetz: even for Familia?!

Tlaz: especially for familia!

Quetz: pendeja! Don't do that!

Tlaz: I need to make sure he'd never cheat on you!

Quetz: I already know he won't!

Tlaz: it is my duty to do that, and I want to make sure you won't have your heart broken!

Quetz: ok! Just make sure you don't do it again!

Tlaz: fine! I won't....

Quetz: good!

Some time later, the chaldea group ends up visiting the Enma-tei again. Rex and Quetz decided to go pay the onsen a visit. Rex finishes getting ready but Quetz isn't done yet.

Rex: mi corazon?! You ready to go yet?

Quetz: not yet mi amor! Just a while longer! Just go in without me, I'll be coming!

Rex: okay!

Then Rex enters the onsen, waiting for her to come to him. But while he was waiting, he heard a voice talk to him.

???: Hola Rex...

Rex, surprised: oh!

After recovering from the spook, Rex sees that not far from him was Tlazolteotl again, also enjoying the onsen

Rex: oh... hey there Tlaz...

Tlaz: this onsen thing's pretty nice y'know... reminds me of my temazcals back home.

Rex, nervously: ye-yeah... hehehe... makes sense...

Tlaz: you ever want to visit one of them?

Rex: hehehe... maybe one day with Quetz...

Tlaz: I can accompany you though....

Rex: Tlaz... didn't you already talk to Quetz about this....

Then Tlaz got a bit too close....

Tlaz: oh come on! It's just a steam bath! I'm not gonna... do anything... to ya

Rex: too close! Too close!

???: Hey!

Then Rex and Tlaz looked up to see Quetz at the edge of the bath

Quetz: Tlazolteotl! This again!?

Rex: mi amor!

Quetz then gets in the water and pulls Rex away from her sister (and unintentionally into her breasts)

Quetz: we talked about this! You said you were done!

Tlaz: sometimes they need more testing! And this was a good opportunity!

Quetz: once is already more then enough! Mi amor would never cheat on me! So stop it!

Rex: uh-uh... mi corazon...?

Quetz: in a second mi amor. *back to Tlaz* I am warning you hermana! Do not do that again! The only reason I'm not putting you into a chokehold right now, is because we're family! And we're both naked in a bath right now.

Tlaz: that'd be hot!

Quetz: calliete!

Quetz is then seen taking Rex to the other side of the bath, away from Tlazolteotl.

On another occasion, Rex is on his way to the kitchen to get some snacks. But on the way... he sees one room... leaking steam for some reason...

Rex: huh...? Steam?

Out of curiosity, he gets a bit closer...

Rex: why is there just... steam... leaking out?

He then opens the door a bit...

Rex: I kinda have a bad feeling about this....

He slowly opens the door a lil more...

Rex: hello?

???: hola...;)

Then Rex sees... Tlazolteotl... again.

Rex: ...why aren't I surprised?

Tlaz: oh Rex, I just thought I'd turn my room into a temazcal... since I figured chaldea could definitely use one, y'know?

Rex: that's nice! I think I'll go now!

But as Rex turns to leave, Tlaz appears right in front of the door, blocking him, with basically nothing covering her body.

Tlaz: what's the rush?! C'mon! Join me!

Rex, nervously covering his eyes again: n-n-nah! I'm good! I just wanted a snack at the kitchen is all!

Tlaz: oh... I've got a snack for you al-

Then as she's talking two arms wrap around her waist and she's put into a powerful German suplex!

Quetz: RAAAAHHHH!!!!

*SLAM!!!*

After Quetzalcoatl delivered the powerful move onto her sister, Tlazolteotl is seen knocked out on the floor.

Quetz: again!? Why can't she stop!? *sigh*

Quetz then drops her sister onto her bed and covers her up.

Rex: I knew she tested couples but... I didn't think she'd do it so much.

Quetz: this isn't normal! She's being annoyingly assertive about it!

Rex: I'm sorry she keeps doing that... I don't like seeing you upset...

Tlaz: it isn't your fault mi amor! She's just... she has good intentions I guess... but.... it's still annoying.

Quetz then took Rex by the hand and took him to the kitchen, let's try not to think about it! I'll make sure we have much better memories about each other instead!

Rex, excited: ok mi corazon!

Then years later, after the world was saved, Rex and Quetz moved to Mexico city to start their lives together properly. They had just finished unpacking all their stuff in their new home!

Quetz: *sigh!* finally, mi amor! This is starting to feel like home now!

Rex: yeah! It's so nice! Can't wait to spend our lives together in this new home!

*ding dong*

Quetz: hmmm? Were we expecting anyone?

Rex: not that I know of...

Rex then opens the door, with Quetz close behind, and in front of them is Quetz's sisterz Tlazolteotl.

Tlaz: hola! How are you guys?!

Immediately Rex hides behind Quetz, while Quetz looks at her sister with an annoyed look.

Quetz: ...what are you doing here?

Tlaz: I just wanted to help welcome you guys to your new home!

Quetz: right...

Tlaz: something wrong?

Tlaz: hermana! It is my duty to test someones loyalty!

Quetz: you already know what's wrong. Your annoying history of trying to tempt mi amor.

Quetz: and that duty has been fulfilled! Tres veces! You're done! No mas!

Tlaz: I'm looking out for you Quetz! I don't want your heart broken!

Quetz: me and mi amor have been together for YEARS! I think I'd know by now if he'd cheat! And he hasn't!

Tlaz: are you sure!?

Quetz: ...don't! Do not imply he's cheated behind my back!

Tlaz: I don't want to, but the possibility is always there....

Quetz: *sigh* just leave...

Tlaz: why?

Quetz: please leave now, before I get angrier at you!

Tlaz: ...fine... I'll leave...

After Tlazolteotl leaves, Rex asks Quetz a question.

Rex: ...is everything ok, mi corazon?

Quetz: *sigh* it's fine mi amor... I understand she has good intentions but... all she's doing is hurting me... I know you'd never cheat on me... I just wish she'd get the message!

Rex: I'm sure eventually she will.... she just doesn't seem to see how much it hurts you...

Quetz: honestly... I'd be more then ok with not seeing her for a very long while. I love her but... it's annoying.

Rex: yeah...

After a while, the two finish up their dinner. It starts to get late, and the two want to turn into their room.

Quetz: ok mi amor, I'm going to clean up.

Rex: need any help?

Quetz: no mi amor! It's not too much, just head back to our room! I'll join you very soon ;)

Rex: ok!!!

Then Rex heads back to their room to wait for Quetz. But once he opens the door... he sees Tlaz on their bed, just like the first occasion her breasts were bare and she was trying to seduce him.

Tlaz: Hola Re-

*door slams shut*

Rex: fucking hell!

Quetz, from the kitchen: what's wrong mi amor?

Rex: Tlaz was in our room!

Quetz: OTRA VEZ?!

Then Quetz is seen dragging her sister out of their home.

Quetz: another time!? Didn't I make it clear I don't like you pulling that!?

Tlaz: I'm trying to look out for you herm-

Quetz: ALL YOU'RE DOING IS HURTING ME!!!

Tlaz: You know I'm not trying to do tha-

Quetz: it doesn't matter what you're TRYING to do!!! What you ARE doing is hurting me!!! Good intentions don't mean anything if the results hurt others! Especially those you care about!

Tlaz: I'd never want to hurt you but, I don't want you to get hurt if he-

Quetz: XAVIER WOULD NEVER DO THAT!!!!

Quetz: ...he loves me!

As Quetzalcoatl said that, she started to tear up a little.

Tlaz: is that his real na-

Quetz: it doesn't matter! I don't know what makes you keep doing that! You gain NOTHING from it!

Then Quetz stops yelling, getting quieter but still just as angry.

Quetz: in fact... you just lost a sister!

Tlaz: wait! No! Don't do this Quetzalcoatl!

Quetz: it's too late! I'm done with you! I NEVER want to see you again!

Tlaz: I was just-

Quetz: I already told you! You're intentions mean nothing! When the results are just you hurting me! Now get out!

Tlaz: b-b-but

Quetz: GO!

Then Quetz goes back into the house and slams the door shut!

And then Tlazolteotl started to tear up from what happened...

Tlaz: hermana...? I just... I just wanted to...

Tlaz, internally: did I go too far? I was just looking out for her.... I shouldn't have done that.... WHY did I do that!? Why couldn't I get the message until now!

Then she leaves....

Back inside, Rex sees that Quetz had been crying

Rex: mi corazon! What happened?!

Quetz: *sniffle* I'd rather not talk about it...

Then Rex hugs her

Rex: you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm here if you need it.

Quetz, hugging him back: gracias mi amor. I just... I'm just hurt... is all... I'll be fine...eventually....

Rex: I know you will be! You're such an amazing goddess! You can recover from anything!

Quetz: *sniffle* I love you so much mi amor... you make me so happy.... I don't know what I did you deserve you....

Rex: let's head to bed... you need the rest

Quetz: si....

A/N: and those are the incidents where Tlaz went too far.... I know I presented it kinda jokey in some posts, but I thought I'd make it far more serious in execution. Also retconned it to 4 incidents instead of 5. Eventually I'll write the two reconciling but for now... things aren't ending well.

Tags

@havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong @hasjalterdoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasmataharidoneanythingwrong @hashokusaidoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @hasishtardoneanythingwrong

#fate grand order #quetzalcoatl #wife #mastersona #rex #rexcoatl #tlazolteotl

[vanderlindeandco]

Whiskey and Chocolate (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Sequel to Silver and Sapphire

Thank you @wecomrades​ for fact-checking this and for very kindly pointing out a glaring error that I have since patched (half-assedly, but still)

You weren’t the biggest fan of what you saw when you checked your appearance in the cracked mirror inside the half-destroyed house you’d be spending the night in. Your hair was limp and dirty, the circles beneath your eyes darker than you’d expected even knowing you were sleep-deprived, and your cheeks had taken on an unfamiliar hollowness, no doubt from being on your feet for most of every day without enough food to make up for all the energy you expended. But you were in one piece, and for being where you were, that would have to be enough. You tucked a few loose strands of hair under your headscarf, and straightened the necklace that still felt foreign, the chain as light as the touch of a feather every time it shifted against your skin. You reached up to touch its stone as you walked back outside, pulling your coat tighter around you as the cold wind nipped at your face and neck.

“There you are.” Bill was waiting at the aid station when you reached it, and to your surprise, you found he’d cleaned up, presumably as well as he could given the circumstances. His face was mostly clean-shaven, a couple small cuts betraying the extent of his efforts, and his uniform, while far from clean, had wet spots in place of stains he’d tried to clean off with varying levels of success. What looked like two blankets were draped over his shoulder, and his pockets were bulging.

“Thought I’d run off?” you asked.

“Nah, just figured you were gettin’ pretty for our date,” he said, “Not that you needed to.”

You ignored the little flutter in your chest.“You clean up all right yourself.”

“Why thank you,”  he said. “Had to skip a few steps of my usual toilette, but what’re you gonna do about it? This ain’t exactly the Ritz anyway.”

“I’m impressed,” you said, though it was more by the fact that he’d tried at all than by what the results were. To be entirely honest, you had been becoming increasingly uncertain whether you should have said yes to this date - or whatever it was - after he had left earlier, the most rational part of your brain telling you that you were being unprofessional and that he might just want to get laid, but he’d already presented evidence to the contrary, and this stacked more proof onto the pile.

“You hungry?” he asked, pulling a tin of rations from one of his pockets.

“For mystery meat, always,” you said, and he chuckled, tossing you a can.

“C’mon, I got a place we can go.”

You followed him down the main road, past several soldiers on guard, and then down a side street, where he nodded toward an inset doorstep; it was just wide enough for the two of you, and clear of rubble - you wondered if he’d come by earlier to clear it out. It was close enough to the rest of the company for some level of security, but tucked away enough to provide a little privacy, and when you sat down in it, elbow to elbow with Bill, his proximity to you ignited your nervousness all over again. “You don’t mind gettin’ a little cozy, do you?” he asked as he scooted back a little further, leaning against the door. “Figured it’d be good for keeping warmth in, and all.”

“Oh, is that it?” you teased. “Just want to keep the warmth in, huh?”

“‘Course,” he said, faking offense at your doubtfulness. “What’re you trying to imply? I ain’t never been called anything less than a gentleman.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now I know that’s a lie, and lying’s not very gentleman-like, if you ask me.” 

He took the can of rations from your hand and began to open it for you. “This make up for it?”

You considered whether you should let him off easy, and then decided to. “Sure.”

“Good.” He handed you the opened can, and you pulled your multi-tool from your pocket, unfolding the spoon to begin eating. 

“So,” you said after you swallowed your first bite. “What’s your history?”

“This a job interview or something?” he asked, and you shrugged.

“Maybe.”

That made him smile, and he took a bite of his food, swallowing quickly, before answering. “Well, ma’am,” he emphasized the word, “I’m the youngest of ten. Grew up in South Philly. Dropped out of high school after Pearl Harbor to go build tanks. Ma didn’t like that too much, so I finished school and worked by night. Same year I volunteered for this shit-” he gestured vaguely at the mess around you, “-and you know the rest.”

“Sounds pretty busy, finishing school and working nights,” you commented, impressed by his dedication.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t the only one doing it.”

That was it, you realized - that was why you were out here with him, because under all the bluster and sweet-talking, he was a kid from the States, just like you, just trying to do the right thing. He didn’t think he was anything that special, but you’d heard plenty about him that he didn’t say himself, and you knew that he was. It didn’t hurt that he knew how to make you laugh until your sides hurt, either. “How about you?” he asked, stirring his food and scooping up another bite, not noticing that you’d been staring at him, which you only realized when he broke the silence. “What’s your story?”

You told him, but speaking about your hometown was bittersweet. It had been nearly a year since you’d seen it now, what with training and then deployment, and you found yourself hurrying to finish the tale, wanting to get your mind off the place you missed so dearly. 

“Ain’t too easy thinking about it now, is it?” he said once you’d finished, and you nodded, surprised by how easily he’d read you. 

He looked down, scuffing the toe of one boot in the dust. “Helps me remember what the hell I’m doing out here, though.”

He was right - that was the only good way to look at it - perhaps through that lens you could remember your home a little more sweetly, and you nodded, sitting back to watch the sky, in which a weak sun was setting.

“Real cheerful pair, aren’t we?” he commented, “Actin’ like a couple of salty old timers, talking about the good old days.” 

You chuckled. “You’ve got a point. But I got something that might cheer us up.” You withdrew the bottle of Scotch from inside your coat and Bill’s eyes lit up.

“Excellent.”

A few shared sips of the liquor began to loosen your tongue and lift your spirits and soon you were chatting comfortably again, laughing as Bill recounted stories of the mischief he’d frequently perpetrated as a child (which didn’t surprise you) and soon he began to poke you for stories of your own. “C’mon, you’re telling me you never got in trouble? Never snuck out? Egged a house? Nothin’?”  There was so much disappointment in his eyes as you shook your head that you were tempted to make something up just to make him laugh, but you discarded the notion to stay honest.

“I was a pretty good kid.”

“Boring,” he said, shaking his head as he sat back and took another sip from the bottle.

“No it’s not!” you exclaimed indignantly, and then a memory came back to you. “Oh, I got something.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Let me guess, you, uh... Put out the silverware in the wrong places? Kept a library book past its due date?”

“Oh hush,” you said, and his teasing turned to laughter. “Or else I won’t tell you.”

“All right, all right, what?” he said, and then fell silent, although there was still a smile on his lips, his cheeks rosy above the turned-up collar of his coat.

“When I was a kid, my parents bought me a bike for my ninth birthday,” you said. “I’d outgrown my old one, and I was going to get passed down my sister’s, but she left it in the driveway once and my dad drove over it on his way to work-” that pulled a burst of laughter from Bill, “-so they had to get me a new one. It was my first day riding it, and I was going fast; you know how when you get a new bike and everything’s all new and greased up well, you can really fly?” He nodded. “Well, I was doing that, whipping down the sidewalk. It’d rained the day before and there were a few puddles, but I didn’t really care since I was wearing stuff I didn’t mind getting dirty.”

“I don’t know where this is going, but it ain’t gonna end well, is it?” Bill asked as he passed you the bottle.

“No, it’s not.” You took a sip of the burning liquid and continued. “I couldn’t see one of our neighbors walking down to the sidewalk because they had a tall hedge at the edge of their property. So I didn’t think much of the puddle in front of their house. As it happened, I flew through that puddle right as Mr. Becker got to the sidewalk in a white flannel suit.” Bill laughed gleefully. “Well, it wasn’t so white after that. He started yelling and I got scared and rode like hell all the way home. Guess I thought I was going fast enough he didn’t see my face, but that was dumb ‘cause he only lived five houses up the block and he knew exactly who I was. He came and talked to my parents and I got my bike taken away for three weeks.”

“Wow,” Bill said, laughing. “I guess you aren’t a perfect angel after all; I’m impressed!”

“I s’pose so,” you said. “Happy now?”

“Yeah, I was trying to figure out if you really stand on as high a pedestal as I thought.” He wasn’t looking at you, focused instead on unscrewing the cap from the bottle of Scotch, but you were watching him, curious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Well, just that you seem a little more human now,” he replied, and when he met your eyes and saw the confusion on your face, he added, “Don’t worry, it’s a good thing.”

“Thanks?”

He chucked, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

The sun was sliding down toward the horizon rapidly, its weak light dying, and you nodded toward the blankets, which still hung over Bill’s shoulder. “Can I have one of those?”

“For a fee,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah? Do you accept chocolate?”

“It’s my number one form of currency these days,” he said, handing you one of the blankets as you withdrew a chocolate bar from one of your outer pockets and began to peel it open, tearing back the paper. You broke off a chunk and held it out to him, but instead of using his hands, which he had just slipped back into his pockets, he opened his mouth expectantly, and you placed the chocolate in it, cringing at the strong alcohol smell that his breath carried.

“What?” he asked as he bit down. “I got bad breath or something?” 

“Flammable, more like,” you said, breaking off a piece of chocolate for yourself.

The pair of you sat in comfortable silence then, your head resting against the door, and the blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. It was a cold night, but remarkably still, and the temperature was much more tolerable in the absence of wind. The sun set quickly as you shared the dessert, and soon full dark had fallen.

Bill pulled a pair of cigarettes from the pack in his pocket, and was searching for his lighter when a familiar fwoomp sounded from somewhere too close by, followed half a second later by another, and you barely had a chance to react before the first mortar landed just twenty feet away, exploding in flame and dirt and flying rocks, and Bill threw himself over you, crushing you back against the door, his body shielding yours as a second, and then third mortar exploded across the street. But you were barely thinking of the danger once the initial shock had passed, and the mortars’ impacts slowly moved away; instead the blood pumping through your veins, the thoughts rushing through your head- they were mostly because of Bill, how he’d reacted instantly to cover you, protecting you without any thought for his own well-being. The mortars fell farther and farther from you, and you knew the Germans didn’t really know you and he were right there - they were just trying to cause any damage they could and keep the troops there on their toes, but it didn’t stop the pounding of your heart, especially when you realized how closely Bill’s body was still pressed against yours even after the last mortar exploded and silence fell, his breath hot across your cheek as he said, “You okay?”

“Fine,” you said. “You?”

“Still in one piece, far as I can tell.” He pushed himself back a little, and steadied himself, his face just centimeters away; his gaze caught yours, and instantly you were drowning in his warm, dark eyes. He paused there for a long moment, a moment in which your heart clenched and that instinct you’d been pushing away all night told you to go ahead and make a move, but by the time you’d resolved to, the moment had already broken and he was shifting himself off you, settling back down on the stones. “Damn Krauts; never lettin’ us get a moment’s peace,” he grumbled.

You looked at him, saw the disappointment in his eyes as his hands fell into his lap, one thumbnail scratching at a rough patch on the other. You felt certain then, or at least, as certain as you thought you were going to feel, and you put away your inhibitions and let yourself speak the words on your lips.“What do you need a moment’s peace for?”

He looked over at you then, and you could read every emotion that passed across his face in the space of just a couple seconds. At first, just interest, his eyebrows raised slightly. Then a spark of curiosity, of hope, followed rapidly by uncertainty, and then, when you held his gaze, sureness, followed by…. A smirk? “You sure know how to manipulate a guy into making the first move,” he said, and then sat back, surprising you.

“I… what?” You’d been expecting him to kiss you, and you were so prepared for it, your brain lagged in adjusting when his actions diverged so sharply from the course you’d expected.

“I ain’t doing it,” he said, crossing his arms, and then his ankles, the picture of stubborn resolution, his gaze fixed on the hovel across the street. “I’m not gonna try and kiss you, just so you can pull back and act all hard to get. I know how you girls are.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh you do, do you?”

He looked back at you, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t like that look. You look like you’re plotting something.” He hunched his shoulders in a little tighter as if to protect himself from you. “You gonna stab me and steal my money?”

“What money?” you said, laughing, but when he opened his mouth to protest, an indignant expression on his face, you surged toward him and cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips firmly to his, and he stiffened, obviously startled, and then his posture softened, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him from your uncomfortable crouched position. He tasted like whiskey and chocolate, but that wasn’t what was so intoxicating about the kiss. You settled in his lap, your arms falling about his neck, one hand pulling off his helmet so you could push your fingers through his short hair as his chapped lips caressed yours, soft yet passionate. “You still think you know everything about me?” you murmured as he tugged your hair just hard enough to pull your head back, exposing your throat for him, his lips pulling a sound from you that made your cheeks redden, and you squeezed your mouth shut as he chuckled against your skin, kissing the spot he had just nipped.

“Maybe a little more than you’d like.” His voice was deep and quiet, and it alone would have been enough to make you shiver. Combined with what he was doing to you, it was nearly overwhelming, so you let your eyes close as he pulled you in a little tighter and slipped an arm inside your coat to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. 

He stopped suddenly, and you opened your eyes, suddenly self-conscious, but when you looked at him, he was just smiling at you, the affection in his gaze so genuine it made your chest feel tight. “What?” you asked.

“Nothin,’” he said. “Just didn’t think joining the Army’d end me up with the prettiest girl on the western front in my lap.”

You felt your already flushed cheeks grow hotter. “You’re just saying that.”

“Think what you like; I’ll find a way to convince ya,” he said, and your heart jumped, and you leaned down to kiss him again. You knew the whiskey made you bolder than you usually would have been, but somehow, in this moment of peace, carved out from months of violence, cold, and fear, you had no doubts anymore about what you were doing. Bill had a big attitude, but it was one of the things you liked about him, and beneath all the big talk was a good man. A very good man.

“Guarnere!” Bill pulled back from the kiss, groaning at the sound of Malarkey’s voice somewhere nearby and you slipped off him, instantly missing his touch, and also his warmth as the cold night wrapped around you again. “You down here?”  Malark’s voice was at the end of the side street now, and Bill sat forward, sticking his head out of the doorway. 

“What?”

“Lip wants you for something. Sorry to interrupt whatever you got going on here.” He said the last with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, and Bill nodded.

“I’ll be right there.”

“All right.” As Malarkey’s footsteps retreated, Bill looked back at you, his expression equally frustrated and apologetic. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said before he had a chance to speak. “We’ll do this again, yeah?” 

Your words seemed to restore his good spirits, and there was a suggestive twinkle in his eye when he said, “Yeah, minus Malark cutting in.”  He stood, extending a hand to you and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. You didn’t stop yourself, letting your momentum carry you forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a tight squeeze before he released you so you could walk out to the street.

“‘Night, Bill,” you said as you reached the main road, and he blew a kiss over his shoulder as he walked away, a swagger in his steps. It was then that you realized you’d never even thanked him for covering you when the mortars came in. But it could wait for next time.

#band of brothers #bill guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bob #i need to rewatch and reread everything #and then hopefully I will make fewer stupid mistakes #but thankfully Linda is simultaneously v smart and v kind and got me pointed in the right direction #and hey guess what #i'm still bad at titles! #honestly not worth reporting on anymore

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Intro to Balancing Your Life || Morgan & Sasha

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @sasha-r-blog & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sasha drops in on a new class on campus; Morgan is only too happy to offer encouragements.

“…And who is it that determines the definition of humanity? What kind of definitions do we see offered by Victor, or Henry Cleveral, or the Creature?” Morgan asked the class. The students, while not thrilled with some of Mary Shelley’s ‘big words’ had enough preparation to offer semi thoughtful ideas. Obviously, Victor thought he could define what human means. One of her try-hard students, eager to please every adult in sight, posited that while Victor’s definition of humanity is the one that dominates the narrative, the intrusion of the creature’s perspective halfway through the book is meant to compel the reader into questioning its validity. “Yes!” Morgan tossed the kid a candy from her bowl. “The midpoint crisis here upends our expectations through thought, rather than action. It is, structurally, the center, the heart of the story, changing what we believe to be true. But, are we convinced by the Creature’s definition of his humanity? Why or why no–”

Morgan’s timer, the theme song of The X-Files, went off.

“Shit. Alright, that’s time everybody! Do your homework, do your reading, and get ready for Fan-Fiction Friday! And you–” She pointed to the newcomer sandwiched at the corner of the seminar table. “Come see me for a minute. The rest of you: glad you love each other, but please get out.” As the room cleared out she began to gather up her things. “I’ll level with you, I haven’t checked my roster, so I’m not sure if you’re a late add or just checking things out. But either way, I might be able to answer any questions you have better one-on-one instead of just looking at you across the room.”

Sasha watched the other students mingle and leave, a second of nervousness keeping her in her seat before the professor called out to her. It was hard to parse the tone in Professor Beck’s voice when Sasha’s immediate assumption at a teacher saying to “see me” was that she had fuck up somehow. But either way, Sasha walked towards the desk, dodging any curious looks from her exiting classmates.

“Um, hi. Sorry I didn’t mean to cause any trouble by sitting in.” She shifted the straps of her backpack, tugging them against her shoulders, as if the weight would somehow shield her from the awkwardness. “I’m Sasha Rodriguez. You gave me your office hours awhile ago. I uh, didn’t get a chance to visit but I saw your name on the winter session course list  and thought I’d check it out. I’m trying to branch out I guess.”

It took Morgan a few minutes to place the girl. She didn’t give out her school contact information to everyone, but it happened often enough that she had more than one name floating around her head. But the more she looked at her, the nervousness, the eagerness, the closer Morgan got to a hunch. “Oh, you’re the girl trying to figure everything out in college. I’m glad you decided to come by. If you’ve got some spare time, we can go somewhere and talk? I’d love to have you join in the spring, if you like what you’ve seen so far.” She dumped her books and laptop into her bag, and shouldered the load, handling the bulk with ease thanks to her strength. “Come on. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re branching out from and what you thought about class today.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Sasha said as she moved to follow the professor. She still wasn’t used to how casual some professors could be. In high school they made it sound like professors were all strict, no nonsense, and unforgiving. And Sasha had certainly had professors like that during her first semester. But here was a professor throwing candy to students and cursing in class and talking about fan fiction. It was cool, but weird to process.

“I’m in computer science and I’ve only really taken courses in that department and math stuff. Oh, and also English 101, for the gen ed.” Those classes had been a lot different from what Sasha had just sat in on. Even the one English class she took didn’t really match up, that one having been run by an exhausted looking graduate teaching assistant who didn’t seem all that interested in teaching.

“The class was cool, though I feel like a lot of the stuff you were saying went over my head.” Sasha had a moment of internal panic, worried that came off as implying Professor Beck was bad at teaching. “I’ve just never been good at looking into books, but the class was interesting. I was surprised you mentioned fanfiction at the end. I didn’t think most professors even knew what that was.” Oh no, did that sound rude too? Sasha closed her mouth before she could say something dumb. Besides her advisor, if you could even count their meetings as conversation, and Ben, Sasha hadn’t really spoken one on one with a professor before. It still felt a bit surreal.

“Oh, that’s just because you’re coming in at the tail end of the course. I don’t throw my students into the deep end before I’m certain they can at least, you know, doggie paddle.” Morgan smiled good naturedly and lead them up to the main sitting area in the English building, setting her bag down carefully and making herself comfortable. “I can tell you that looking into books isn’t so different from the way you look into the stories in other media. Movies, TV, video games, comic books--our relationship to the stories we engage with say so much about what we envision for ourselves and the world. The more we understand and invest that relationship, the more empowered we feel to take control of our fate.” Morgan stopped herself from saying anything more and laughed, low and self deprecating. “Oh, jeez, don’t tell the other professors I said that. But, anyways, yes, the aforementioned reasons are what fan-fiction and other forms of counter-storytelling are so important. But more important than that is doing something that’s going to challenge you in positive, enjoyable ways. And making time for a little fun.” Morgan held her fingers up, like this much. “Can I ask how the rest of college is going for you, Sasha?”

Sasha followed her and sat in the unfamiliar sitting room. She gave a small smile as Professor Beck talked about stories and how people related to them, finding that she had been nodding along without realizing. She stopped once she did, somehow worried that it came off as over eager, as if a professor would ever get mad at someone being interested in what they were saying. If only the professor knew how close that hit to home for her. All those stories of kids getting superpowers, it was real. As if it had jumped straight off the page. As if Sasha had willed it into being. In the back of her mind Sasha wondered how she would have reacted to suddenly growing calls if she hadn’t grown up on comics and superhero movies. It felt like the blueprint to everything now.

Lost in her own thoughts she was a bit startled when the professor’s tone shifted. “No, no I agree, I think. I think all that stuff is important. Storytelling. I mean, I’m not much of a reader but comics and games and movies have been really important to me.” She wished there was a major in that stuff. Or crime fighting. She’d be on the dean’s list if her nightly patrols counted for credits.

“It’s been going okay. I mean, I don’t really do much outside of classes. I’ve been trying to do more but I mostly keep to myself.” It was the same thing she had told her advisor and Professor Campbell, but more and more Sasha felt silly for saying it. It wasn’t like she did nothing, just nothing related to college life. But it wasn’t like she could tell her professors she was protecting White Crest. Or at least trying to.

Morgan noticed Sasha’s interest and perked up at once. “You know, we do cover films in my class,” she said, grinning slyly. “And books. But still. It’s the same kind of thought process as with books, so it might as well be given its time and place. There’s plenty of other courses like that in this department, even a film and media studies minor. You should do what makes you happy, because undergrad coursework doesn’t matter half as much as you think it does. It’s all internships and jobs and connections and recommendations that help you get anywhere. And this place, college, has a lot of flaws and problems, but one of the best ways to make it worth it is leave knowing as much as you can about the things that matter to you most.” But that was about all the pitching she was willing to do on behalf of her class. Besides, being a student at UMWC came second to being a kid in White Crest. Morgan couldn’t help but look at the girl and wonder what this place would do to her. Morgan pushed the thought away, she couldn’t let herself focus on a big, bad future like it was some kind of unstoppable force.

“This might sound silly, coming from a professor who just tried to recruit you to their class, but I hope you do find other things besides school studies. There’s a much bigger world out there, and you should have something else in your life. At least friends and playing video games or going to Al’s at one in the morning or whatever kids your age do now. Life is for doing stuff, you know? Whatever it is you’re thinking about doing or joining, you should go for it!”

“I never really thought about taking a minor. I didn’t know they had one about film.” Honestly, more and more Sasha felt like she hadn’t planned much of anything when it came to school. Or life in general. But she supposed she could change that. If anything this talk had made her actually interested in looking into classes, something she had mostly breezed through doing in the past, simply checking off the boxes of what she needed for her degree. But if the professor was right and it didn’t matter that much... “Maybe I’ll try looking into classes for film and english and stuff like that. They seem fun. At least the stuff you were talking about seems fun.”

Maybe it would make school more interesting, instead of something Sasha went through the motions of to get to her real job. “Real job,” as being a superhero paid. As if she wouldn’t one day need a day job. College was a convenient way to pass the time and something she was told she had to do, but it would be nice to actually care about it, to feel like she was actually doing something.

“I do have hobbies...” Just none she could tell Professor Beck about. “But yeah, I should probably try to do more. I wanted to check out the library. I was supposed to help out with the comic collection there as a volunteer thing. So that’s a start I guess.” It had almost slipped her mind, but that was something she had been genuinely excited for. It was just hard to remember stuff like that during the day when she was normally up all night. Her nightly patrols had turned her days sluggish and uneventful, filled with quick naps between class and maybe some video games alone in her dorm before she put on her costume and went out again. And she loved doing it, of course she loved going out at night to keep White Crest safe. But at the same time...

“Do you ever just get really focused on one thing?” Sasha asked the question before she was thought about it, but decided to keep going, even if it was dumb. “Like, you have something you like or is important and you just focus on that and everything else just kinda blurs into the background?”  Sasha rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. “I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess sometimes I feel like that. But I don’t know if I want to change it.”

“The library is a great start!” Morgan said. “You’re going to learn so much, and probably find people who have similar interests to you when they come to check out materials. But I hope you do other stuff, not for credit, just for you. You’re only going to be young once--” Hopefully.

She couldn’t help but smile at Sasha’s notion, that hyper-focus was something rare or embarrassing. “Oh, all the time. I have some art projects that I do on the side, and I can get so lost in my carving that hours can pass by so easily. Same with baking, or cooking something really involved. It’s almost like you’re connecting to something else, outside of or beyond you. There’s you, the thing you’re doing, and this energy it gives you, right?” Morgan watched the girl’s expression to see if she was getting it right. “Even if it’s just kind of like that, I don’t think you should change it. Whatever that thing is, it sounds to me like the universe is giving you the green light to keep going.”

Sasha nodded, giving a small smile. She was happy that Professor Beck seemed to get it and not think it was weird. Sure, Sasha's focus wasn’t on crafts or cooking, but it was the thought that counted. Her mind lingered on what she said about being given a green light. Really, what was a bigger green light than getting her powers? But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be a reason it was her. She had to be able to do something with her powers, something to really help people. It was comforting to have the professor say she was right, that the universe wanted her to do what she was already doing, but there was a pang of melancholy knowing Sasha couldn’t tell her, or anyone, the truth. How much did advice and validation matter when the person saying it didn’t know the full truth?

She shook the thought from her head. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you a bunch of weird questions when I came to sit in. I think it would be cool to try out one of your classes though if you still have room for students.” Sasha chased away the worry of struggling in a class she wasn’t used to. If worst came to worst she could always drop that class. At least it would be something new, something she might actually end up liking.

Beaming and unawares, Morgan took out a post-it from her bag and scribbled out the class information before handing it to Sasha. “Don’t be embarrassed about questions,” she said. “Questions are how we learn. You’re never going to find anything interesting if you always leave well enough alone.” She stood up, getting the vibe that Sasha had opened up all she felt like so far. “I hope to see a lot more of you this coming semester,” she said. “Hoping even more that you do something just for you, but.” She put a finger to her lips. That’ll just be our secret.

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep asking them.” Well that was one social interaction that didn’t go horribly. Wasn’t great that Sasha considered that a victory for herself but she was going to take the feeling of accomplishment anyways. “And I’ll try to do stuff for myself too.” That was going to take more work than just registering for a class, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst. She couldn’t promise herself she would put in the effort though. Tucking the post-it note into her backpack she smiled and said goodbye to Professor Beck. Maybe a few new classes would be enough to make her college life, and her daily life, seem a bit more exciting and a bit less like time to just get through. But her patrolling White Crest at night was still more important. Professor Beck didn’t have to know that part though.

#wr sasha #wr chatzy #wr sasha chatzy #intro to balancing your life #wickedswriting

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Dennis

Welllllll this one got a bit away from me. I blame cabin fever (two days snowed in) and my angst addiction. Story 4 for @drawlight‘s advent challenge.

Couple of notes: Dennis, MA is a real place, and chosen for the setting because (a) it is the site of the first recorded commercial cranberry bog in America, and (b) it has a very silly name. It’s actually quite nice, if you manage to visit between the overcrowded tourist season and the completely dead off season, Crowley just has no patience.

Cranberry wine is not as common as the story might imply, especially in 1982. Crowley is drinking Truro Vineyard’s Cranberry Red from their Lighthouse Wine Series, which my parents are big fans of (it’s good, if you like red wines), even though that wasn’t available until the late 2000s. Bad historian, no cookie for you.

Thanks to @angel-and-serpent for reminding me about the wolf spiders.

04 - Cranberry (2,600 words)

Crowley sat on the four-poster bed, staring at the phone. The clock beside it clicked from 1:59 PM to 2:00. He tensed…but nothing happened.

Don’t panic. It’s not always exactly the same time. He tried to occupy himself by listing things he disliked about the hotel room.

The lighting room was atrocious, casting everything in a sickly yellow color. Even sitting alone, he wore his glasses to dull the glow a little. The bed was…passably comfortable, the quilt too stiff, the pillows far too flat. The carpet was worn, though only a little. The color scheme was too…green. He’d seen three ants, which might just be a coincidence, or the start of an infestation.

The phone rang, a sharp jangle cutting right across his nerves. 2:03 PM.

He scooped up the handset and said as casually as possible, “Yeah?”

And relaxed, smile drifting across his face that he’d never allow in a face-to-face conversation.

“No, I’m not too busy, Angel. How was your week?”

Slowly, he leaned back on the bed, stretching the coiled cord as far as it would go.

“Really? No. The audacity, coming in and trying to buy a book. What do they think it is, some kind of shop?” He listened another moment. “Aziraphale, I am taking this exactly as seriously as it deserves.”

He listened for a while longer, with an occasional, “Yeah. Yeah.”

“How are my plants?” He frowned. “Perfectly fine? They’re dropping leaves all over the shop, aren’t they?” Rolled his eyes and sat up. “No, I don’t care if it’s November, they know what’s expected of them. I’ve only been gone…” he sighed. “Twenty months.” He was really going to have to re-establish dominance when he got back.

“Nah, I mean, New York was great. Plenty going on there. We should – you should – yeah, I think you’d like it there.” He winced. He sounded pathetic. “Then two days ago, hey, congratulations, now on to the next location. But…I really think someone cocked this one up. No way this is where I’m supposed to be.”

“Dennis.”

He jumped to his feet. “No, not Dennis who, Dennis. It’s a town.” Pacing was difficult in a room this small. He almost immediately became tangled in the phone cord. “I have no idea who names a town ‘Dennis.’” He struggled to free himself without moving the earpiece. “Some bloody tourist place, beaches and sea food, only it’s the off-season.”

He kicked the last bit of cord off his leg – how had that even gotten there? – and flung himself dramatically into the armchair. It wasn’t as good without an audience.

“Now I’m stuck here, nothing to do, until Hell admits they made a mistake. Who knows how long that’s going to be.”

Furious scowl. “No, I’m not being… who even uses the word histrionic? There’s really nothing here. Even the hotel – you’ll never guess. Three stars.” He frowned. “You try it.”

“There is a cranberry bog.” He admitted sullenly. “Lots of spiders. I’m sure there’s something I can do with that.” Pause. “No, I will not behave myself, I’m a demon. And I was told to make trouble, not that there’s any trouble to get into here.”

He sighed. “Haven’t the first idea, they just congratulated me for something to do with politics or the economy.” Crowley pulled off his glasses rubbing at his eyes. “Come on, Aziraphale, you know that’s not how I work. I don’t even understand the economy. Supply-side whatsname, what’s that even mean? But Hell was really happy.” He shuddered. “Ah, I hope I don’t get a commendation. Then I’ll know it’s bad. It’ll be like the Spanish Inquisition all over again. Or the French Revolution.”

He smiled, twisting the cord around his finger. “No, I – you don’t have to. If you want crepes, I’m sure there’s someplace closer.” He laughed. “Yeah, now you mention it, they do still have the death penalty here, but I think you need something more than a bad outfit.”

He was running out of things to say. He tried desperately to think of something, anything. “Uh, any dinner plans?” Nodded. “No, that’s – that sounds good. I wish – I hope you enjoy it.” He knocked his head against the back of his chair. “Got some wine at the airport. ’S alright, I guess.” Nodded again. “Yeah. No, definitely. Talk to you next week.”

Crowley walked back to the bed and dropped the phone into the cradle with another sigh.

--

It was 2:07 PM and Crowley had the phone to his ear before the first ring even finished. “Yeah?”

“Not good, Angel. I spent days getting those wolf spiders to listen to me, and before I could enact my plan, they closed the bog for the season!”

He covered the mouth of the phone and scowled at the half-dozen spiders on his curtain. “Oi, you lot. Back in the planter or you can winter outside with the rest.” He glared until they had settled back among the spiny shrubs with small red blossoms. He would not be telling Aziraphale about his new roommates, or that the best option at the undersized plant shop had been a succulent called crown of thorns.

“No, it was going to be a great plan. All my plans are great.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Well, that worked, didn’t it?”

He groaned and flung himself back onto the green quilt. “Of course I’m still in Dennis, where else would I be? I told them it was probably supposed to be Denver, but does anyone listen to me?” He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “The worst is, they keep congratulating me on all the good work I’m doing.”

“No, Aziraphale, I don’t think they meant the spiders, either.” He picked up a newspaper – an actual, local paper, not one of the ones put out by Hell. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on, but they don’t exactly get the New York Times here.” He flipped through the titles – Cape Cod Chronicle, Provincetown Advocate, The Register. He’d tried to get a few older issues, but everything was from the current month: November, 1982.

“Why would I go to a library?” Pause. “Ohhhhh. Mm, I suppose I can try that if I get desperate.”

Aziraphale asked a question. “Nh, ah, ok. So. Someone wrote this book about this huge secret satanic organization that, I don’t know, controls the world or something. Accused my side of…some stuff.”

He sighed. “If you must know. Torturing and murdering children.” Crowley sat bolt upright. “No, Aziraphale, obviously not. You’d know if it was true.” He picked at the seams of his black jeans. “I suppose you had to ask.”

“Well that’s the thing. We didn’t know anything about it either. So they sent me here to figure out what was going on.”

He flipped through the pages of the newspapers. “Not much, really. All in their heads, right? Didn’t even need to bother stirring it up, these things really take care of themselves. I’ve just been doing my usual, traveling to different cities, causing a little trouble.”

Giving up on the tiny newsprint, Crowley reached for one of the bottles of cranberry wine that the liquor store had had in abundance. “Well, that’s the thing. I can’t find anything in the papers, so that can’t be it.” He poured himself a glass. “Just…you know. Economic stuff. Banks. Taxes. I don’t know.”

He took a drink. “Mh. There was something, can’t find it now. Some men getting sick out in California. Hope it’s not another plague.” He laughed a little. “Hooray penicillin. Honestly, I’m glad to see the end of plagues. Lousy way to do things.”

Aziraphale turned the conversation to lighter things, and for a while Crowley sipped his wine and listened, learning everything going on back in London, what the customers had tried to buy now, and the angel’s dinner plans.

“Oh, you’ll like this. You know what next week is? Thanksgiving.” He poured the last of the bottle into his glass. “It’s like Christmas, only instead of presents, more food. Very American. The hotel’s serving it in the main dining room.” He drained his glass. “Eh, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce. The usual. I probably won’t have any, you know, you’re supposed to celebrate with friends, but – yeah I thought you’d like that.” He smiled at the phone. “I’ll…uh, I’ll talk to you then, right?”

After he hung up, he noticed one of the spiders sitting on the floor next to him. “I thought I told you to stay in the planter.” At least they’d cleared up the ant infestation. He’d have to get some crickets in the morning.

The wolf spider waved hairy legs at him. “Oh, alright.” He let her scramble up his arm and settle on his shoulder. “But no wine for you. That’s all I need, bunch of drunk spiders.”

--

The phone rang at 2:01 PM. Crowley didn’t pick up.

Or at 2:10. Or 2:13.

It was 2:29 PM – long after Aziraphale had lost track of the number of times he’d called and hung up – when Crowley finally knocked the handset out of the cradle. “Wha’?” he demanded, slouched on the floor amid empty bottles of cranberry wine.

“’M celebrating, tha’s what.” The spider on his shoulder scurried down to settle on his knee instead. She was always nearby these days. “Cuz I know what Hell c’gratulated me for.”

He dug around for a bottle that was still half-full, drank straight from its mouth. “Not the economy. Well. Starts with that. Whole time I’m here, people been…losing jobs, banks closing. Did I notice?” He leaned his head against the bed. “No, s’pose not. But people…you know people.”

He nodded, watching the spider jump from one knee to the other. “Satanic Cult story just…keeps growing. Accusations. People in prison. Kids always in the middle. ’S not even real. Just. Panic. And then the other thing.”

He held out his hand, let the spider crawl across his fingers. “Said I was done caring, after the Black Death. You can’t… can’t care, you know? Plague’s gotta run its course.” He hadn’t ever really believed that anyway. “But this is… something new.”

He raised his hand and the spider clambered onto his head. It felt nice, little fuzzy legs combing through his hair. “Dunno. Something with… ’mune system? ’S bad. And…and no one cares. Aren’t studying it. Aren’t talking about it. Cuz of who’s sick.”

He picked up the bottle again, draining it, sweet-tart wine running down his throat. “’S what ’m s’posed to’ve done, y’know. Make ’em turn on each other. Cut off th’ ones who need help. ’S like I did in Spain…and France…”

He leaned his head against his knees, curling up beside the bed in his nest of bottles. “Nnhhh, ’f its nothing to do with me, why do I keep getting credit?”

Crowley couldn’t listen any longer. He let the phone tumble out of his fingers, onto the floor. Aziraphale’s voice grew louder, more insistent, then abruptly cut off.

Of course he’d hang up. Why would anyone want to talk to a demon who –

With a strange hum, something burst out of the phone, materializing in the hotel room very close to where Crowley sat. The pale figure stumbled on the wine bottles, then straightened his tartan bow tie and glared.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, Crowley.”

“I…how’d you…”

“Traveling through the telephone lines. You told me you’d tried it once before.”

“It was awful.”

“Not nearly as awful as your driving.” Aziraphale looked him up and down. “Look at yourself. You’re dressed like some sort of…teenaged ruffian. Why is there a spider in your hair?”

“’S fashion,” Crowley answered vaguely.

The angel leaned down and lifted the wolf spider, being careful not to hurt her legs. He watched the spider run across his palm. “And how long has he been like this?”

“Look, Angel, she just –”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Aziraphale walked away, whispering to the spider. “Really? And you didn’t try to tell him – No, I suppose not. No, you’ve done your best. I’ll take it from here.” He set the spider down among the crown of thorns.

The angel still looked absolutely furious. “You could at least stand up instead of skulking on the floor like that.”

Crowley stumbled and tottered getting to his feet, and it wasn’t only because of the all the empty bottles.  Well, in a way it was.

“Angel, you shouldn’ be here –”

“I should absolutely be here. You’ve been on your own far too long.” He eyed the bottles. “How many of those are from today?”

“Nn. All of ’em. Housekeeping clears them out every morning.”

He tried not to notice the look Aziraphale gave him as the angel snapped his fingers, miracling the bottles into a neat row across the bedside table. “Now sober up.”

“C’mon, Angel, ’m fine.”

“Sober up. I’m not talking to you like this.”

The cranberry wine was a lot less pleasant coming out than it had been going in. And sobriety only made all the emotions he’d been feeling more clear.

Aziraphale watched the liquid pour back into the bottles, and when he was satisfied, jabbed a finger into Crowley’s chest.

“I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. You are not responsible for what the humans do, or believe, or ignore. That is their choice.”

“I know.” He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “I just…how can they be so cruel to each other?”

“Free will.” Aziraphale sat beside him, so close their shoulders just barely brushed. “One day an act of kindness that surprises even me, the next…”

“The next, they leave hundreds of people to die horribly, just because they’re different.” This wasn’t any easier to process sober. “Are you going to tell me this is all part of the Ineffable Plan?”

“Would that make you feel better?”

“Has it ever?”

“Then, no. I think I’ll leave it at that.”

They sat together in silence for a long time.

There really weren’t any words to make it better. Free will or not, Plan or not, sometimes, humans were the absolute worst. He didn’t know why, after six thousand years, it still hurt to learn that.

But it helped to know, from the pressure of one shoulder leaning on another, that at least someone else had never learned to stop caring.

“So, are you going to head back to London?”

“After coming all this way?” Aziraphale had run out of severe looks; he just smiled sadly. “I have a few healings left in my allowance for the year. I think I might…see what I can do out in California.”

Crowley nodded, and for once he was the one on the verge of a forbidden thank you.

“Before you go. I think the Thanksgiving dinner is about to start. I don’t suppose…”

“My dear, I would never turn down a feast.”

The demon quickly stood up, re-settling his glasses, manifesting something a little more sophisticated than the punk-inspired look he’d been wearing.

Aziraphale dug under the bed and found an unopened bottle of cranberry wine. “I’m looking forward to seeing how this tastes. Oh, it looks like a little lighthouse! Lovely.”

Crowley paused at the door. “You’re not going to be all weird and pretend we don’t know each other, are you?”

“I suppose not. Since this is supposed to be a celebration with friends.” He eyed Crowley suspiciously. “Don’t go being overly familiar just because I said that.”

“Me? I would never!”

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #ineffable husbands #31 days of ineffables #aziraphale #crowley #hurt comfort #but tough love comfort #aziraphale is a bastard

[state-of-longing]

never surrender

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Mileven

Additional Tags: Set between S2 & S3, summer of love > summer of sadness, mike wheeler is not great at shopping

Words: 1,510

Summary: Mike buys El some cassette tapes. The kind that are perfect to kiss to.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

As Mike Wheeler biked hurriedly over to Starcourt Mall that morning he had exactly $10 burning a hole in his pocket. Five of those dollars were from his overly trusting mom who insisted he buy himself new socks, due to a relentless growth spurt. Two of those dollars were leftover change from his last week of school lunch money. The last three were from poorly mowing the front lawn for the Thompsons who lived three houses down.

With this money, he had one mission and one mission only. He parked his bike, ran through the crowded food court and made his way up the escalator. There was a selection of cassette tapes on sale at Sam Goody’s and you could buy 2 for $10. It couldn’t be more perfect.

Ever since the Snow Ball and he had more time with El he had been thinking about making her a mixtape. He would grab a couple of tapes from Radio Shack and record songs from the local music stations. But what he didn’t factor was the amount of time and effort that took and in the end it just meant he had less time to spend with her. Less time with his girlfriend was not the ideal.

The tapes weren’t just a romantic gesture or present either. They really needed these tapes. When El was finally allowed out of the cabin for the summer, they had begrudgingly agreed to not hang out alone in the Wheeler’s basement. Instead, if they weren’t outside with the Party they were allowed in Hopper’s cabin but only when the Chief himself was there to supervise.

Considering Mike had waited 353 days for El to come back to him and then waited for his middle school career to finally end, he agreed to any deal that meant he got to spend time with her. Even if the chief of police was breathing down their necks. They were just happy to be in each other’s presence and didn’t care what that meant.

That feeling of contentment vanished quickly a few hours into the first day of summer.

They thought they’d be able to spend their time together playing board games and watching TV. Mike made a list of all the movies he wanted to show her and books he wanted to read to her. He even thought up a mini D&D adventure that they could play together so he could teach her the rules.

As soon as they sat down to the first movie they immediately became restless. Suddenly they had all this time together, an entire summers worth of time and all those plans felt stupid. Mike and El quickly realised all they wanted to do was hold hands, whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears and kiss. Like, they wanted to kiss all the time. Kissing suddenly became Mike’s favourite thing to do. It was better than any D&D campaign, R-rated horror movie or Atari game out there. He couldn’t think about anything else.

And who could blame him? El was without a doubt the prettiest girl he had ever met. She was way prettier than any of the girls who go to his school. Her hair was now down to her shoulders and was curly with light honey streaks shining through it. She had these big brown eyes that were framed by dark lashes and he wasn’t sure if she was aware of the power she had when she fluttered them in his direction. And then her lips…

Let’s just say that physics couldn’t even explain the gravitational pull Mike had to those.

So after the longest afternoon in history, where he and El were forced to watch TV with Hopper sitting behind them at the dining table, they asked if they could hang out in El’s room. The discreet hand holding just wasn’t going to cut it and El could only concoct so many telekinetic ‘accidents’ for Hopper to leave the room and they could sneak in a kiss.

Mike was convinced that Hopper would throw a fit and say no. He already knew that he pissed the man off. They’d spent the last six months finding any excuse to see each other or call each other on the phone. But what Mike underestimated was how Jim Hopper was putty in El’s hands. He felt so guilty about keeping them apart the year prior that he was willing to give that girl nearly anything she wanted. She just needed to flutter those eyelashes.

‘Fine. But here’s your number one rule: the door stays open 3 inches at all times. You got that? At all times.’

Mike had blushed furiously, knowing what Hopper was implying about what would happen if the door was closed. El, however, was perfectly oblivious and immediately dragged him to her bedroom and closed the door behind them with a wave of her hand. Hopper had stomped over and adjusted the gap wider.

They couldn’t believe it. Mike barely had time to process their newfound freedom when El pulled him to sit down on the mattress. This was it. The dream of every teenage boy. He was alone, in his girlfriend’s bedroom and she was smiling at him like he was some sort of teen idol you find in Teen Beat magazine. If he didn’t kiss her right then he was going to explode.

But as soon as their lips met they realised they’d forgotten to factor in one important thing. Kissing was loud. At least, the way Mike and El kissed. He winced once their lips parted, quickly checking the door for any sign Hopper had heard and was pulling out his gun. The silence throughout the cabin was a stark reminder that Jim Hopper was everywhere and if you were even thinking about touching his daughter he was one step ahead of you. Every movement, every creak of the floorboard, every rustling of Hopper’s chip packets and beer cans destroyed any mood Mike set out to establish.

That night El begged the Chief to buy her a cassette player and Mike offered to buy her tapes to play.

So here Mike was, multiple Sam Goody sales bins in front of him and $10 in the pocket of his denim vest. He had no idea where to start. He didn’t really listen to the radio much, his walkman was collecting dust and even though his dad had a big record collection he barely listened to it. He wanted to buy something El would like but would also be perfect to kiss her to. He didn’t want to buy something that would ruin the mood because it had embarrassing lyrics.

‘Can I help you?’

A voice broke through his thoughts and Mike turned to find a sales assistant, an older woman with eyes framed by blue eyeshadow looking at him expectantly. Perhaps he could use some help.

‘Uh…I’d like to buy some tapes.’

‘Well, you’re in the right place, honey.’

Mike could only nod, already feeling awkward enough about the situation. He had exactly one hour until Hopper was home from work and if he biked fast enough he could have a few minutes of alone time with El before the Chief’s Chevy Blazer pulled in out front.

‘So…do you have a favourite artist?’

‘Oh..um I don’t listen to a lot of music.’

‘Okay…’ He could tell the sales assistant was exasperated with him already.

‘Uh…I guess I like that band with the two guys. Hall and Grain…or something.’

‘You mean Hall & Oates?’ The woman barely contained her laughter and Mike could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘Yeah sure. Anyway, I’m looking for something a bit…’ He could barely stutter it out. Thank god the other guys weren’t here to make fun of him. He’d never hear the end of it, especially from Lucas.

’Romantic.’ He said it so softly that the woman had to lean in to hear him. An amused grin took over her face. The kind you get from adults who don’t take you seriously. Mike hated that look. When it came to El he was nothing but serious.

‘Romantic, huh? For your girlfriend?’

‘Uh just looking for something she would enjoy.’

‘Want to set a mood, huh?’

‘Something like that.’ If a giant Kraken was to break open the ceiling of this mall and devour them whole he would welcome it. Really.

‘I think I know just the thing. You want some love ballads but nothing your ma would listen to.’

‘Definitely not.’ Mike shuddered thinking of Karen Wheeler’s Barbra Streisand collection. The ultimate mood killer.

‘Hold tight sweetheart, I’ve got you and your girl covered.’

Mike left Starcourt Mall with two tapes and biked over to the cabin as fast as his legs would go. He had no idea who Corey Hart and Bryan Adams were but the smile on El’s face when she pressed play on her stereo made them the greatest musicians to ever live in his eyes. Even better than those Hall & Oatmeal guys.

#shoutout to hall and oatmeal #mike wheeler #mike heart eyes wheeler #mileven #chief jim hopper #i needed to write this #stranger things #just let my babies be happy #My writing #fanfic

[under-atomic-skies]

The Crooked Kind. Ch. 1

Welcome Home

Summary:  Fiddleford is a student at Backupsmore University. He meets a stranger at a payphone and makes an unlikely friend who, unbeknownst to him, has a long, complicated relationship with his roommate. The pair become close and eventually, a romance buds between them. What could possibly go wrong? (Tags will be updated as fic is updated)

Warnings: none for this chapter

Word count: 2,594

AO3

Ch. 1 (HERE) || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4

All my nightmares escaped my head Bar the door, please don't let them in You were never supposed to leave Now my head's splitting at the seams

Snow was beginning to drive from the gray skies suffocating the sky. The weather had been turning gradually colder and colder as winter pressed on. It was nearly Christmas, which also meant the semester was winding down. Finals week was quickly approaching and the impending stress loomed over the young college student. It didn’t help that it was one of his last few years of college and the course work, mechanical engineering, had gotten progressively harder and more complex.

Not that any of that bothered him. He’d been building all sort of robots and improving farm machines for at least a decade. He was doing very well in his classes, but it didn’t change the fact that it was time consuming, and carving out time to study and complete projects in time for the end of the semester was easier said than done.

He technically should be studying now, but he’d been studying all day and he could at least recognize (unlike his roommate) the benefits of taking a break every now and then. What better way to do so then to get fresh air and call his family.

At least that had been his plan. Being a southern boy, he forgot how “fresh air” implied that the air outside was so cold that it hurt to breathe. Remind him why he decided to go to a school where the air hurt to breathe? Wrapping his jacket tighter around his thin shoulders, he continued along his way to where the phone booth stood, quietly stuck in between a nearby building and a mostly empty parking lot.

Opening the door, he let himself in and closed it, realizing sadly that it wasn’t any warmer inside the phone booth. Fishing through his pockets, he retrieved several coins and inserted them before dialing his home phone number. Lifting the phone to his ear (and trying not to think about all of the germs and bacteria living on the damn thing), he waited patiently as the phone beeped in his ear.

Finally, the beeping broke off as a warm voice greeted him through the phone with a thick southern accent, “Hello, McGucket residence?”

A smile tugged at the boys features as he recognized his mother’s voice. “Hi Ma!” he replied back with excitement.

“Fiddleford!” she all but shouted into his ear, earning a laugh from the man at the other end. “Honey, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you? Are you eating?”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Fiddleford laughed again, “Yes, Ma. I’m eatin’, I swear.”

“Good! You’re always so skinny; I don’t want ya wastin’ away!” His mother’s voice was warm, though Fiddleford knew his Ma well enough to tell she was worrying about him. She was always a fretful person, and that only magnified now that her son was hundreds of miles away on his own.

“I promise, Ma, I’m doin’ well. If anything, my roommate is the one who ain’t eatin’.” He laughed fondly before adding, “I guess I also got a protective mother streak in me; I’m always harping on him to eat more, or get some sleep.”

His mother laughed, “Oh, Fiddleford. You’ve always been such a sweet boy. I know I shouldn’t worry about you so, but it’s hard to not worry about your baby!”

Seeing a movement out of the corner of his eyes, Fiddleford turned to watch as a red El Diablo turned into the parking lot and parked a few spots down from the payphone.

“So, how’s your classes going, baby? Finals are comin’ up!” His mother’s voice interrupted him, turning his attention away from the car.

“They’re going well! My roommates been helping me with multivariate calculus. He’s not the best teacher since everything is so easy for him and he can’t seem to understand why I don’t get everything as quickly as he does, but he’s still been helpful.”

A noise not that far interrupted his thoughts as a car door opened. Seeing as this was a busy street, it didn’t seem odd to him so Fiddleford didn’t pay him any mind.

“That’s great, honey! You’re always such a smart cookie!”

She laughed at Fiddleford’s squak of protest.

“You know I’m so proud of my smart boy! Listen sweetie, when are you thinkin’ you can come home for Christmas?”

Fiddleford hummed in thought, briefly glancing at the car as a man emerged from the car. It was fairly dark out so he couldn’t see the man very well. He turned towards the payphone, and seeing that it was in use, strode to the front of his car and sat on the hood, lighting a cigarette that he pulled from a pack.

“Finals week is a week and a half away so probably that Friday after finals.” Fiddleford responded.

“Fantastic! And you’re still plannin’ to bring your roommate home as well, right?” his Ma asked pleasantly. Not for the first time, Fiddleford felt a swell of affection for his kind hearted mother. After explaining how vague his roommate had been about not looking forward to going home for the holidays, and talking about staying in their apartment for the holidays, his mother had offered to open their home to his roommate so he wouldn’t have to spend the holidays alone.

At first, his roommate had been hesitant. Fiddleford suspected it was because he was because he, bless his heart, wasn’t the best at social cues, or socialization for that matter. But at Fiddleford’s insistence (it also helped that he pointed out that the McGucket’s could talk to a dead person), he agreed to go.

“Yep! He’s still plannin’ on comin’! You’re gonna make your homemade apple pie still, right? I’m afraid I talked up a storm about it and he’s lookin’ forward to tryin’ it!” Fiddleford said with a laugh.

“Oh yes, sweetie,” his mom replied, chuckling, “You know I always do.”

Fiddleford grinned, “He’ll be excited to hear that.” After a brief moment, he signed and scratched the back of his neck, “Listen ma, I still got a lot of studying to do. It was great to hear your voice again, and I’ll see ya soon, ok?”

His mum’s voice sounded through the receiver, understanding but still a bit disappointed to have to get of the phone, “Of course, sweetie. You’ll do great! I’ll look forward to seeing ya soon. I love ya!”

Smiling fondly, Fiddleford replied, “I love ya too, Ma. Bye.” he said.

He heard his mother say bye as well before he hung up the phone on the hook. He opened the door to the payphone and as he raised his eyes, his gaze met the strangers, now rising from the hood of his car, flicking the cigarette butt into the growing pile of snow.

“Sorry for takin’ so long.” Fiddleford responded to him kindly. As the man approached, now under the light of the street lamp better, he noticed that the man’s coat couldn’t possibly couldn’t be warm enough to stave off the winter cold.

“No problem.” the man replied, voice gruff. A thin, trail of air coming from his mouth as he breathed. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a quarter, would ya? I wanted t’ call my ma, but I’m one quarter short.”

Fiddleford could obviously tell the man was not happy to have to ask for money from a stranger, and felt sympathy. The man just wanted to call his own mother, and how could Fiddleford deny the man that request. Nodding, he stuck his hands in his pocket and pulled out the rest of the change that he had before offering it to the man.

The man was closer now and as Fiddleford met his gaze, he gasped. The man looked just like his roommate. Or rather, he would if it weren’t for the long hair, scruffy five o’clock shadow, tired bags under his eyes (though Ford was probably sporting a pretty good pair right about now), or strange stains on his threadbare jacket. The man seemed to notice his scrutinizing gaze and appeared to shrink, as if wanting to make himself smaller. Feeling another wave of sympathy, Fiddleford offered a kind smile to the man as he added his coins to the man’s own pair.

“Say, you must be from down south, huh?” He asked. The stranger opened his mouth to reply with a look of confusion before Fiddleford cut him off, “I know how it is. I’m not used to this cold weather either. I happen to have a spare winter coat; how’d ya like to take that off my hands for me?”

The man’s face looked puzzled before he nodded, as if he was hesitating. It was if he didn’t want to take him up on his offer, but his body was too cold and forced him to agree. Fiddleford grinned.

“Thank you! You’re really doin’ me a huge favor!”

The man was starting to ease, much to Fiddleford’s joy.

“I- uh- I really appreciate that, but I really gotta call my Ma before it gets too late. I’m late enough as it is, and if I don’t call her tonight, she’s gonna talk my ear off.” The man said, shuffling his feet.

Fiddleford nodded, “Of course, of course! I gotta get back to studying but I tell ya what, why don’t ya come back here tomorrow afternoon. I can get that coat for ya, and there’s a nice coffee shop a block or two down that has a new drink I’ve been wantin’ to try out.”

The man’s eyes darted away, hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could respond, Fiddleford cut in, “And before ya object, ya know how that southern hospitality is. My own ma will have my head if she ever finds out I don’t welcome a newcomer to the town, near Christmas nonetheless.”

The guy appeared a bit overwhelmed and for a brief moment, Fiddleford wondered if he was over doing it. But how could he not? The man obviously looked like he could use a kind gesture of two, and seeing as he looked so much like his roommate, Fiddleford felt the need to be a bit extra generous to this man.

Slowly, he nodded, “Ok… yeah. Coffee sounds nice.” Ever so slightly, his mouth curved into a hopeful smile. Fiddleford grinned.

“Great. I’ll see ya tomorrow at noon then! Enjoy your phone call with your Ma!” Fiddleford said, turning to head back to his apartment and raising a hand to wave bye to the man. The man waved back, almost hesitantly.

“See ya then!” he called back.

Fiddleford turned fully now, hurrying back to his apartment to get out of the cold, a small smile on his mouth. He could hear the door to the payphone opening as the man let himself inside, and again a few moments later as the door closed. Following the path back to the apartment, Fiddleford noticed that in the short time he had used the payphone, snow had covered the path in a thin layer. His footsteps crunched ever so softly as he climbed the steps leading to his apartments front door before letting himself in. Following down the hallway that led to his tiny apartment, he took his keys out to let himself in.

Unsurprisingly, he found his roommate still at the desk, hunched over as his eyes darted across the textbook he was reading.

“Howdy, Stanford!” he greeted his roommate, who was so wrapped up in his readings that he didn’t hear his roommate. Rolling his eyes with a playful smile, Fiddleford approached his roommate, and leaned his head down to be about level with Ford’s head. He let out a yell which was soon joined by his roommates own shocked yell.

Spinning around to look at Fiddleford with wide, frightened eyes, Fiddleford burst into laughter. His roommate didn’t seem nearly as pleased, not that Fiddleford was all that surprised.

“Ya know, Stanford, I could have been a burglar or a murderer or somethin’ and you wouldn’t have even noticed.”

Ford rolled his eyes, leaning his arm across the back of his chair. “I would have noticed! They would have had to break the door down.”

Fiddleford laughed, “Yeah, somehow I’m not confident that you’d notice that.” This earned a stubborn glare from his roommate.

Playfully grinning back, Fiddleford returned to his desk where his book had been left open for him.

“Anyway, how was your ma?” His roommate asked, turning back to his own book.

Grinning, Fiddleford responded, “She’s good. She’s really excited t’ meet ya! Oh! And I met a guy that looks a bit like ya if ya had long hair.”

“Hmmmm…. I’m inspired. Maybe I’ll grow out my hair. Think that’ll look good on me.” Ford teased, carding his six fingered hand through his wild, mouse-brown hair.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Fiddleford chuckled curtly, “Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’d suit you.” He paused for a few minutes, deciding to mention his plans for the next day. It wasn’t like he thought the man would do something, but just in case, at least Ford would know where he was, “I’m gettin’ coffee with the guy tomorrow. I dunno what his deal is, but he looks like he doesn’t have much, so I figure a cup of coffee and my old winter coat will help ‘im out a bit.”

By this point, Ford seemed to be wrapped up in his textbook. For a moment, Fiddleford thought he hadn’t heard him and was about to repeat himself when Ford replied, “Just be careful, alright? He’s probably not well off for a reason.”

Pressing his lips together to keep himself from retorting something back, Fiddleford merely hummed. He didn’t agree with Ford’s sentiment, but he knew they were both too tired with too much studying to do to engage in an argument. He was finding it hard to concentrate on his classwork with that man in his thoughts. He was probably done or wrapping up the phone call with his mother. He hoped it went well; if his ma was anything like Fiddlefords, it’s always good to have one person like that in your corner. It soothed Fiddleford to think that the stranger wasn’t entirely alone. He might not have any clue about this man’s life, but it wasn’t hard to deduce that if he was on his own, or, god forbid, living out of his car, he most likely didn’t have many friends or acquaintances.

Fiddleford could only hope that the man wasn’t just passing through. If he was planning on staying for a while, Fiddleford wouldn’t mind getting to know the man. He wanted to know more about this mysterious drifter who he could see had a kind, if not worn heart. The following afternoon could not come fast enough.

With this thought in mind, he marked his place on the book and told Ford that he was taking a shower and heading to bed, and that he should think about doing the same. Ford didn’t respond, too wrapped up in his studying, not that Fiddleford actually expected an answer. He’d come out again after his shower to remind him.

As he climbed into bed several minutes later, it didn’t take long for the exhaustion to catch up to him, and within moments, he was deep in sleep.

#the crooked kind #ch. 1 #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #fiddleford mcgucket #ford pines #stanford pines #stangst

[calico-daydreams]

{ Don’t Kiss And Tell }

Jimin x Taehyung (Private Academy / High School AU)

Jimin is a confident, not-quite-out-of-the-closet gay, whereas Taehyung, just a precious, innocent bub, has never second-guessed his sexuality until Jimin stole his first kiss.

Genre: slight fluff, angst, will kinda be slow burn Words: 2,032

A/N: This was originally from a Hoseok x Reader WIP with a side of best friend!Taehyung x confident gay!Jimin, but I can’t seem to stop writing vmin. :’)

"C-Can I try something?"

"What is it?"

"It's not me confessing or anything! I-I just want to test something."

"Tae, you're confusing me."

"May I kiss you?" Wait, what the f-- "I-If you're not comfortable with that, it's okay! We can just pretend this exchange never happened…" His voice went quiet as he tried to sink into the driver's seat, "Please…"

"Please forget about this, or please let you kiss me?"

"Um, either one… Jesus, this is so embarrassing--"

"Okay."

"Huh?"

"Okay, you can kiss me."

"Are you sure, Kat?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Tae. I also appreciate you asking because it's already an upgrade from that one boy in middle school who shoved his braces on my mouth." If he weren't so nervous, he would've gagged at that mental image. "So, yes, you may kiss me."

She turned in her seat to face him, waiting for him to approach her when he was ready. He hesitated before taking a deep breath and leaning forward, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips against hers. She did the same, kissing him back with little pressure. It was only a chaste kiss, and it didn't last more than a few seconds before he pulled away, his brows furrowed in thought.

"Well?"

"I didn't feel anything."

"That's what every girl loves to hear." She giggled when he averted his eyes, pink dusting his cheeks as he leaned back into his seat. "Why did you want to kiss me?" Her eyes widen, "Wait, wasn't that your first kiss? Tae, why--"

"N-No…"

"My best friend had his first kiss and didn't tell me? I'm wounded, Tae."

"I-I…" His voice dropped to such a low whisper that it was surprising she could even understand him. "I kissed a boy…"

Well, she didn't see that one coming. "Oh! Oh…" She nodded as it dawned on her, "And it left you confused?"

"Y-Yeah… It seemed like a joke, but when he kissed me… Kat, he's kissed my cheek before a couple of times, and I didn't think much of it. But…"

"Do you like him?"

"I… Maybe." He ran his hands through his hair before resting them on his voice, his next words muffled, "I didn't know I could feel that way. When he kissed me, I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest!" Removing his hands, he pouted at her. "But kissing you was like kissing a brick wall."

"Gee, thanks."

"What do I do, Kat?"

"Talk to him."

"Do I have to?"

"Tae. Do you like him?

When Jimin greeted the front door, he wasn't expecting Taehyung to be standing there unannounced. A flash of panic crossed Jimin's eyes, but the following happiness and smile that accompanied it were just as genuine as always. "Hey, Tae…" He expected the scared expression the younger wore at their last encounter, but the boy took a deep breath and grinned, just as happy to see the other boy. "What are you doing here?"

When Taehyung asked to speak to him in private, Jimin was not at all prepared for the boy to step so close the second he shut his bedroom door. The older opened his mouth to question the boy's actions, but as soon as his eyes meet Taehyung's bright eyes, words failed him. All he could register was his heartbeat pumping louder in her ears as he got lost in the dark sea of his eyes. And when the younger's hands met his cheeks in a gentle albeit nervous caress, Jimin knew he was in trouble. The feelings of guilt he experienced after their first kiss, after which Taehyung couldn't get away from him fast enough, came rushing back and fought with his current confusion before his heart won over and tumbled out of his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, but for the love of god, please kiss me."

"Please kill me."

Kat was considering whether or not stabbing her eye out with her pen would be more painful than trying to comprehend her science homework before a well-timed interruption in the form of her best friend waltzed into her room and flopped himself down all over her bed of papers.

"I did something stupid, Kat."

"What is it this time?"

"Wait, are you implying I often do stupid things?"

"Tae, two weeks ago, you let your baby cousin shove gummies up your nose."

"They were gummy vitamins. I had a head cold, and he just wanted to make my nose better."

Tossing her textbook to the side, she lied next to him and sighed, "I'll admit the thought was cute. Now, what happened?"

"I talked to him like you told me to."

She perked up, turning to prop her head on her elbow. "And? How'd it go?"

He blushed, "We didn't talk much."

She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"I, uh… I might've kissed him."

Her brows shot right back up as she coughed, "Wow. Well, that's one way to confess."

"Only I didn't."

"Didn't what? Kiss him? You're confusing me here."

He finally turned to her, grabbing her shoulders. "I didn't confess. He did."

"I-Isn't that what you wanted?…" He nods. "So, what's the problem?"

"That wasn't part of the plan!" He shook her shoulders a few times to emphasize his frustration, "I had my confession planned out, but he threw me for a loop by saying, ‘I really like you' first!"

"I mean, the guy kissed you first, so him admitting that shouldn't be too much of a surprise, Tae."

"Yes, but I was so caught off-guard that I couldn't even say it back."

"What did you say then?"

He sighed, his frown just as heavy, "What do you say to your grandmother when she gives you socks for Christmas?"

"Did… you thank him?"

Releasing her from his hold, he returned to his original position, whispering hopelessly at the ceiling, "I thanked him."

"He… thanked you?"

Jimin dropped himself gently onto the couch, resting his head on Jungkook's thigh, "He thanked me."

"Well, you are a good kisser."

"I thought we agreed we'd never bring that night up again."

"I didn't. I merely stated you were a good kisser. God blessed you with those luscious pillow lips."

"Well, these luscious pillow lips regret it…"

"Jimin Park regretting a kiss? And it's not with me? Oh my god, the world is truly coming to an end."

"Why am I friends with you again?" The question went ignored as Jungkook finished his game before paying his full attention to the pouting boy in his lap.

"Let me get this straight," This is a gay dilemma though, Jimin thought to himself. "He showed up, claimed he wanted to talk, you led him to your room, he kissed you--"

"Well, I kind of asked him to."

"Okay, and he happily did so, so you say. After that, you blurted out your feelings?"

"It might have slipped before I could think it through."

"What'd you say, exactly?"

"I really… really like you…"

"Eh, boring, but it gets the point across, I guess."

"Jungkook."

"Sorry. What about after that?"

"He, just… Froze? Then next thing I know, he's thanking me and running out the door."

"Hm…"

"What do you think?"

"I think he's an embodiment of panicked gay."

Jimin deadpans, "I'm going to straighten your ass."

"I'm already straight, baby," Jimin closed his eyes when Jungkook started running his fingers through his hair, his younger friend frowning at him. "Jimin…" The unmoving boy hummed, relaxing under his touch. "You really like him, don't you?"

Without intending to, his response came out in a whisper, "A lot, Kookie. And I wish I wouldn't scare him off every time I make it obvious."

"Taehyung doesn't peg me as the type to lead you on, so… I think… He may like you back, but this is all so new for him that he doesn't know what to do with his feelings or curiosity."

"He didn't peg me as the type to run away from his problems, but look where we are now."

"You're not a problem. You're just scary." He finally cracked an eye open, skepticism written in his features. "Okay, you're small and adorable and loveable, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. When you care about people, you give them your all, and it may be overwhelming to him." Worrying his bottom lip, Jimin considered his friend's words. "There's also the fact that you're extremely comfortable with your sexuality, whereas Tae's admitted that he has zero experience. Well, he can check ‘first kiss' off that list, thanks to you."

"Don't remind me." Jimin whined, burying his face into his hands, "I still feel terrible about that."

"It's not like he didn't like it."

"He ran away!"

"Yes, both times, but he came back for more, didn't he?"

"I-- Yes, but--" He sat up with a huff, fixing his hair. "That's because I have luscious pillow lips."

Jungkook carefully watched the blonde gather his phone and jacket. "Where are you going?"

"To take my lips and do less kissing, more talking."

"Do you even know where he lives?"

"…Hey, Kookie--"

"Let me grab my keys."

The worst case scenario would've been getting the door slammed in his face the nanosecond Taehyung saw his face. Jungkook thought that getting chased down the street by a homophobic dog would be worse, but Jimin deemed that highly unlikely. Dogs love him. Dogmatic fathers? They didn't take that into consideration. At all.

Now seated across from Taehyung's father, a sharp-dressed man running for mayor who gave off a heavy aura of authority, Jungkook was beginning to feel suffocated. He had a sick feeling about this. To his left, Jimin seemed calm and collected. The blonde was sitting up straight and silent, behaving well-mannered with his hands clasped together in his lap, just as respectful, albeit shy, as Jungkook expected. However, there's one thing Jimin lacks that has always been both a concern and a nuisance to the younger boy: he couldn't sense intolerant people. And right now, Jungkook feared the firm man before them would see nothing but that damned crest over Jimin's heart.

"You're here to see my son, you say?"

"Yes, sir." Jimin nodded while Jungkook remained unresponsive, too engrossed in observing the man.

"How do you know Taehyung?"

"We're friends, sir."

The man glanced over Jungkook, "You look familiar; I've seen you bring games while Taehyung was supposed to be studying. Jungkook, is it?" The boy offered only a single nod. "My wife thinks you're a nice kid."

Jungkook grinned, "I think Mrs. Kim is splendid as well." His smile didn't reach his eyes, and Jimin was starting to feel the tension gathering in the room. "Her cookies are especially bomb." The man grunted slightly and turned his eyes to Jimin, or more specifically, his uniform jacket.

"You're from the academy."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm surprised to see the likes of you around these kids." Mr. Kim's remark surprised Jimin, but not as much as his following statement shocked him, "Proud youngsters like you display your jackets as if they make you more important when in reality, your mommies and daddies buy your way into higher status just because you have money and God on your side." Jungkook began to wonder if he could get away with assaulting the future mayor.

"I-I'm sorry…" Jimin sounded so confused and hurt that it finally snapped Jungkook out of his silence.

"With all due respect, Mr. Kim…" The tight smile was back. Only this time, he couldn't hide the fire in his eyes. "I think it's highly unfair of you to judge so harshly when you don't even know him." The man blinked but remained composed. "Higher status? Ha! Hilarious. Jimin is my next-door neighbor in my poor-as-shit neighborhood. He got into the academy on a dance scholarship. His parents work their ass off just so they can afford to keep him in that school. Does that make them self-righteous?"

"Kookie…"

"Does that make him holier-than-thou? He's a literal angel, not a goddamned brat."

"Kookie--"

"You talk to your mother with that mouth, son?"

"You satisfy your wife with that small dick energy, sir?"

Cross-posted on Ao3

#i triple-checked and am still praying there's no typos and that my grammar is up to par #taehyung x jimin #jimin x taehyung #member x member #bts fanfiction #eventual smut #it's going to be so slow burn tho #*wips #*teasers

[cannedapricot]

Police Officer! Hwang Minhyun

happy one month of scenarios from cannedapricot!! i can’t believe it’s been a month already! here’s a super short and hopefully sweet police officer! hwang minhyun. no one has gifed minhyun in the police uniform yet bUT IT’S OK I LOVE THIS GIF TOO

welcome to hongdae’s main police station

if you enter and head down the hallway, then turn right, you’ll be met with the sight of a couple dozen cops buzzing around the office

some interrogating sleasy looking men

some annoyed that they have to deal with the same crowd of teenagers again.

minhyun worked as a senior inspector at this very station

it wasn’t super high on the ranks but it was certainly impressive for this age (i think,,,, don’t quote me on it)

his co-workers loved calling him the emperor of the station because reALLY THAT’S WHAT HE’S LIKE

he sank back into his chair, tired eyes gazing over the hectic office

and downed his nth cup of coffee for the evening

this was a normal sight in the station

people talking in hushed tones, phones ringing, someone from thaT ONE SQUAD OF TEENAGERS THROWING UP

OVER THE NEWLY CLEANED FL O O R

MINHYUN LOWKEY WANTS TO THROW UP HIMSELF

INH A L ES

IT’s ok

it was worse on a friday night

or saturday early morning

minhyun was just,,,,, ready for a nap

and so without knowing, his eyes end up closing by themselves

until he was woken by junior inspector! jaehwan

“lol hyung if your that tired we could change spots-”

“as long as i’m breathing, you’re not getting promoted”

he has no idea how jaehwan even made it thus far 

“what do you need now?”

minhyun says as he sits up in his chair

“we finaLLY GOT YOU AN ASSISTANT!!!!”

“what”

“all of us thought that you were working way too hard,,,, sOOOOooOoOO WE GOT YOU A GIFT!!!”

“i’m not a thing to be given, kim jaehwan”

you said, popping into minhyun’s sight from behind jaehwan

“oops??”

you ignored jaehwan lol

“hi!! i’m y/n! i’ll be assisting you from now on!!!!”

“oh,,,, uh,,,, hi,,,,, are you trained?”

trained???

what are you???? a dog????

jk

honestly,,,,

you were just looking for a job to earn some extra money while you look for a stable job

and as if it was a miracle!!!11!!111

your old friend fromm high school, kim jaehwan, rang you up and asked if you were interested in working with a good looking dude

aka him

you shot him down

“ok how about a more average looking dude”

you agreed because wow you were running out of instant noodles

and real quick too

hE NEVER TOLD YOU ANYTHING ABOUT THIS JOB????

HE JUST CAME OVER ONE DAY AND SORTA KIDNAPPED YOU OVER TO THE STATION

YOU WERE NOT DRESSED PROFFESSIONALLY

to this day, you’re still suspicious about how jaehwan knew you needed a job

he said that he had magical powers

in reality though

he saw your snapchat story

ft. your cat and you complaining about how much your wallet was crying

and thought about how tired minhyun looked everyday

anD CONNECTED DOTS

back to your awk asf meeting with your boss

“ha,,,, tr a in e d????”

“o H,,,,, UM IT’S OK,,, I’LL JUST TEACH YOU HOW TO DO THE PAPERWORK”

cue jaehwan wiping invisible tears

“ah,,,, minhyun finally gets to relax a little *fake sobs*”

“you can leave now”

you and minhyun say at the same time

and you figured that the two of you would get along just fine

skip forward a few weeks

you and minhyun weren’t the stiff pair from two weeks ago

in fact, you two didn’t seem like just co-workers

after taking off some of the weight from minhyun’s shoulders, minhyun seemed more energetic 

instead of sitting at his desk tiredly after a day of work, he’d bring in two cups of hot coffee and meet you with a bright smile

you would return his smile of course

you and minhyun had this system were you would take most of the paper work and minhyun would take care of anything that requires him to physically be there lol

and he would return every evening with two cups of coffee and his 1000000 watt smile

iT WAS ADORABLE

ALL THE OTHER OFFICERS LOWKEY COO OVER YOU TWO

IT WAS LIKE YOU GUYS WERE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE TO BE HONEST

IT SEEMED LIKE YOU’VE DONE THIS JOB TOGETHER FOR YEARS

also,,,, they’ve seen the way minhyun looks away from his share of the work just to stare at you

he loves how hard working you are

of course, you were adorable normally buT SOMEHOW

YOU GET 10x MORE WHEN YOU’RE CONCENTRATING

but uh

minhyun was hopeless with girls

his co-workers figured that out

with a helpful tip off from jaehwan lmao

they legit have a group chat dedicated to playing cupid for you two

mostly gossips though

“heY JAEHWAN HAVE THEY COME BACK FROM THEIR STROLL YET???”

by stroll they mean the night duties minhyun has around the block 

he takes you along with him soooooo 👀👀👀👀

you’d be lying if you said that minhyun didn’t look 10x as good under the streetlights at night

you’d also be lying if you said that you had no feelings for him

YOU LOWKEY GET A HEART ATTACK WHENEVER YOU LOOK AT HIM

HOW DOES SOMEONE SO ETHEREAL EXIST

and his cute actions don’t help either

he openly complains to you whenever some drunk person throws up on the tiles he cleaned personally  h o u r s before

spoiler

he looks cute whining

you didn’t think he cared as much about you as you care for him

untilll ll ll lllllll  👀 👀 👀 👀

one day

you weren’t feeling 100%

so you rang up the station and told them that you were gonna take a day off

but for some reason cough the other officers purposely didn’t say anything cough minhyun didn’t get the message

when he arrived at the station, he expected you to be at your desk (less than three meters away from his own) like you were every day

bUT YOU WE R EN ‘T

enter: panic mode

he thinks that you had enough of him and quit without telling him

minhyun gets your address from jaehwan 

who was totally ready and even had your address written down on a piece of paper

minhyun didn’t even think about it lol

he zoomed over to your place

you were just lounging on your couch, your roommate gone to work for the day

you were trying your best to not let snot flow out of your nose l ma o

while going through your phone

until you heard,

frANTIC KNOCKING

your phone dropped onto your face

thAT SHIT HURTS

YOUR CAT RAN AWAY FROM YOU FROM THE NOISE IT MADE LMAO

wincing, you shuffle towards the door

not looking through the peephole, you open the door, still rubbing your nose lol

there stood hwang minhyun, emperor of the hongdae police station, trying his best to catch his breath

THE BOY RAN ALL THE WAY HERE

PROPS TO YOU MY MAN

“what- minhyun? what are you doing-”

minhyun suddenly holds you in a tight ass hug

“i’m so sorry for whatever i’ve done to offend you,,,, please don’t hate me”

you’re confused™

“what are you talking about? i took a day off because i wasn’t feeling well”

 O H

W E L L   

I S N ’ T T H I S A W K W A R D

clears throat awkwardly

also releases you awkwardly

rubs neck awkwardly

“i thought that,,,, maybe i did something,,,,, and you quit the job,,,”

he said his voice getting smaller with each word

yOU LAUGHED

“YOU’RE ADORABLE”

minhyun becomes mintomato 

“a-anyway,,, you said you weren’t feeling well? i guess i’ll make you some soup then.”

he pushes you aside and lets himself in

iNHALES SHARPLY

THE MESS YOU HAVE MADE WITH YOUR TISSUES

“y/n. what is this?”

“ah shit”

minhyun turns to you with the creepiest smile

you immediately ran to chuck the used tissues away

minhyun somehow digs out your rubber gloves and sanitizer in the meantime 

and starts spraying e v e r y t h i n g

makes you sit on the couch and not do anything

after he’s satisfied that everything was spotless

he turns to make you soup

you sigh in relief because thaNK THE HEAVENS YOUR ROOMMATE WENT GROCERY SHOPPING YESTERDAY 

so you sit on the couch, on your phone, as minhyun slaves away in the kitchen

you look over once in a while 

you saw him cutting vegetables (bOYF MATERIAL RIGHT THERE LADIES)

you also saw him ringing up the station presumably making some excuse that he couldn’t make it anymore (the co-workers know exactly what he was doing tho 👀👀)

then you saw him mucking around on his phone

seemingly like he was texting???

jaehwan perhaps

bUT UNKNOWN TO YOU

MINHYUN WAS GOING OVER WHAT TO SAY FOR HIS GREAT CONFESSION PLAN™

while the soup was taking it’s time obviously

he was typing out phrases in his messaging app

the contact being you

y/n i like you. date me

too straight-forward. no

y/n your honestly the most prettiest girl i’ve ever met lets go on a date

ew too cheesy. no

y/n i like you and your dumb quirks. even though your sick right now, you’re still the most adorable human being i’ve ever seen

lol too dumb. no-

oH SHIT

HIS THUMB BRUSHED THE SEND BUTTON

AND

IT

SENT

HE HEARS THE DING FROM THE OTHER ROOM

OH SHI-

“hey minhyun did you just send me a message?”

“y ea h ?”

he squeaked

you chuckle

“hey,, come here for a bit”

he shuffles over

you pull him by the collar and press a small kiss on his cheek

“i like you and your dumb clean freak self as well”

minhyun squeaks again

in happiness

“so,,,,,, are we,,,,, you know,,,,, a thing now?”

“if you want us to be”

yOU WERE SMILING SO BRIGHT

MINHYUN COULDN’T HELP BUT LET OUT A CUTE GRIN

“what excuse did you tell the station?”

you asked

“i said that my girlfriend was sick and i had to take care of her”

???????????

LIES

minhyun actually said something about his dog being sick

was he implying that you were a dog????? because minhyun doesn’t own a dog??????

you’re a trained dog now

minhyun grows red in embarassment

whAT DID HE JUST SA  Y

and he withers in it until you realize something

“um minhyun?”

“yeah?”

“the soup,,,,, it’s boiling and spashing out,,,,,”

MINHYUN BASICALLY FLASHED HIS WAY INTO THE KITCHEN

YOU’VE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE RUN SO FAST IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE

ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH AN IDIOT POLICE OFFICER YOU NOOB

wow isn’t minhyun lowkey kinda ooc here. this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written at 1.6k,,,,, but it still took fo r ev er. DISCLAIMER: i have no idea about how the police work,,, everything here is from my imagination and the dramas i’ve watched sodufbvsb

in other news, wanna one has wrecked apricot, she is no longer alive. i juST WANT ONGNIEL TO BE HAPPY SOBS

in other, other news, happy one month kiddos!!! i love you all and stay healthy!! full length scenarios will be back after my exams!!! wait for me <3333

#wanna one #hwang minhyun #produce 101 #police officer! au #broduce 101 #wanna one scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #pledis #nuest scenarios #nuest #hwang minhyun scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one aus #hwang minhyun imagines #hwang minhyun aus

[golddaggers]

chemistry // part two

pairings: teacher!dylan o'brien x student!reader.

warnings: besides cursing? none.

a/n: look finally decided to realease chapter number two? hahaha :) plus, I’d like to announce that I will be uploading every Saturday. well, the ones I can because university is a bitch. nonetheless, proceed to your reading.

word count: 2,6k+

part one

For some weird reason I was yet to figure out, because it was a lot unlike me, I woke up in an incredible good mood. Which could totally be related to the fact that today was the first sunny morning after weeks enduring grey skies, rain, thick coats and freezing temperatures. Not that I hated all of that, except I did; it made me feel depressed. Plus my hair looked awful.

Yawning tiredly, I stretched out, sitting on my bed. While doing so, my eyes fell to Karen’s sleeping figure all curled up like a ball underneath three sets of sheets on a mattress carefully placed on my carpeted floor. She had decided to stay over the night because we still needed to go over some flash cards to our Algebra exam, that happened to be today, after my mother’s delicious dinner. I wouldn’t be the one to blame her, Louisa Smith was definitely a good cook, which means her belly was probably too full for her to find the strength to leave.

A small laugh slipped past my lips as I got back to my feet, muscles still numb for the amount of hours I stayed in the same position. Either way, I was refreshed to have had, at least once and in a long while, a decent night of sleep; also, the recently made coffee scent alongside the, very likely, scrambled eggs, homemade buns and everything a hungry person could dream about got my stomach complaining, setting my destination to the kitchen room.

The lovely forty year old woman I called mum was humming happily to a song whilst, by smell, squeezing oranges to make my favourite juice. I understood she used cooking as a self defense mechanism to keep herself together; we were still struggling with our father’s departure. It was complicated to even bring up in conversations, so, eventually, we just sort of stopped. I was pretty sure she would get over it. She was the strongest person I had ever known, of course she would.

“Good morning.” I mumbled, hugging her tightly, feeling her tummy shake as the woman laughed. “And this smells great, by the way.”

“Good morning too, sweetheart. What got you up so early?” My mum quizzed, directing me one of her best soothing smiles. “Are you nervous about the test?”

“Yes, obviously.” Rolling my eyes, a tiny smirk curled my lips as I took place at the table. “But it’s not why I’m up. I actually have no idea, but I have this feeling today is going to be great.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy, baby girl.”

“I am too, mum, these past weeks haven’t been easy, exactly…”

“Yes, I am aware of that, but you know what? We’re in a much better place now.”

“I think so too.” Supporting my elbows on the table, I watched my mother’s tired traits. “I want you to be happy too, ma.”

“I’m going to be fine!” The older woman looked away, prohibiting me from spotting her probably glassy eyes. “Now eat, before-”

A pale seventeen year old walked inside wearing a ridiculous bright red nightshirt and a sleeping mask controlling the brown mess that her hair was. She smiled kindly to both of us.

“Mrs. Smith, if you were going to say ‘eat before the eating monster arrive’, that would have been a great advice.”

The three of us shared a laugh before reuniting at the already set kitchen table, everything in place so we could eat together; Karen stole to her plate two muffins, three little breads, a couple of bacon’s slices and eggs, obviously. My mum and I just gazed at her, trying to hold our chuckles back. For someone so small, my friend definitely had a huge appetite.

Once the fun moment was over, we conducted a rather great breakfast, discussing light matters and gossiping like three old friends would do. To be honest, while we chatted, I was in awe to see that my mother was indeed improving; you could tell she had no masks on this time. No pretending nor disguising to be okay. It was purely and merely her.

Yes, this surely was a sign that a great day was ahead of me.

About twenty minutes later, Karen and I went upstairs to get ourselves ready to go to school. Because it was still a lot early, each one of us took our time to enjoy a warm bath, to pick a nice outfit, fix our hairs, etc, etc. Standard girl stuff, I guess.

“So,” The brown haired girl questioned, brushing her hair and locking it up in a tight pony tail. “You haven’t mentioned your date with Mr. McHottie a single time. Aren’t you going to go?”

“It’s not a date!” I whined, putting on a colourful sundress that fell to the mid of my thighs. Her green eyes glanced at me in disbelief, a smug grin taking over her heart shaped face. “It’s not! This is a class. Strictly professional.”

“Yeah… I just don’t buy it.” Scoffing, she stood and straightened her grey skirt, which matched perfectly her white buttoned blouse, the blue cardigan and also her heels. “You wouldn’t be dressing so nicely if the inner you didn’t think this is more than a casual lecture.”

“You are crazy, Karen.” Shaking my head, I slipped in my normal tennis shoes and put on a jeans jacket, grabbing my already fixed backpack that was placed near my closet’s door. “Can I just be in a good mood for once? Not everything has to be about men, you know.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything, I’m just mentioning I’m happy. That’s all. And that it has nothing to do with Mr. O'Brien.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push it.” Karen sighed, collecting her bag as well. “But, seriously, who are you denying this for? Me or you?”

The girl left without giving me time to even come up with a proper answer. Of course she had point; Karen knew very well I had had a crush on him a while back, in the tenth grade. But it was over, I was just kid. Furthermore, I highly doubted Mr. O'Brien would even think about the possibility of being with student; he was way too professional for that to happen. Like, friends, I guess, but dating? Not in million years.

A final exhale escaped as I made my way downstairs; I sure as hell needn’t to convince anyone, nor myself, that nothing was happening, because, well, nothing was happening. He was just being nice. That’s all.

“What took you so long, darling?” My mother questioned as soon as I took my place on the front seat, putting my bag on my lap as I fastened my seat belt. “You look pale too.”

“I’m fine, I swear.” Gazing through the corner of my eye to the back row, I saw Karen shake her head, frowning at my response. “By the way, I might be running late today.”

“Why so?”

“Uh, my chemistry teacher, Mr. O'Brien, offered to help me catch up on the subject. He said I have been off lately.”

“Isn’t Mr. O'Brien the hot one?”

My cheeks quickly reached a scarlet tone as my eyes grew wide to her last sentence. Since when does my mother notice if people are hot or not? I was clearly shocked, yet, Williams broke the tension with a laugh, getting mum to do the same.

“Mum!”

“Just commenting, silly girl. You should see your face.” She stopped under a red sign, looking at me tenderly. “If he says so, I’m okay. Just don’t be so late, alright?”

“Got it.”

Connecting the white earbuds to my phone, I opened the Spotify app and swiftly drowned myself on Sofia Karlberg’s version of the song ‘Toxic’, wishing nothing but to distract myself of all the things that could lead me into thinking of my encounter later with a certain chemistry teacher.

As it turns out, the whole putting out of my mind my own human personification of a Greek God was incredibly hard. I mean, I tried, I really did, but his sinful honey eyes kept haunting me the entire course of my classes. Seriously, why couldn’t him be like my AP Calculus teacher: bald, pudgy and not at all attractive? It would make things a lot easier for me.

Biting my bottom lip to contain a frustrated sigh, I glared at Mrs. Ziemann, trying to focus on her interesting lecture about the end of World War I. She excitedly explained how wrecked both Italy and Germany were once it was over, especially the latter, with the cruel Treaty of Versailles. Oh, well, at least paying attention to that could allow me to forget I was only five minutes away from my meeting.

As the woman finished her presentation, I wrote down a few topics to look upon later when studying the subject, which I needed to do, because this good looking lady was known for her killer exams. On a side note? I may have cried myself after a couple of them.

“And this wraps up our class today.” She smiled solemnly, her pretty blue eyes locked on the back of the class where the lacrosse team was based. “Oh, wait, before you all go, I would like to inform I want, for next week, a paper on the tragic events at the end of World War I.”

This time I didn’t hold back a sigh, taking notes on my journal to do this assignment soon, for next week I also had, oh darn, a chemistry exam. Fate must really think my life is a big fat joke. That’s ought to be it.

I swiftly packed my stuff, placing a handle on my right shoulder and moving away from the class, only to find Karen leant against a wall outside, trying to look casual while chewing gum. Oh, yes, I had to solve this too.

“Please tell me you forgot about our little misunderstanding from earlier today.”

“I didn’t.” Her eyebrows were knitted together, her mouth forming a straight line. “But I’m willing to move past it if you promise to tell me the details of your “class” with Mr.McHottie.”

“You are such a gossiper!” I laughed, stopping at my locker to get my Chemistry book volume two. “I have been trying all day long to not think about it.”

“Let me guess: useless.”

“Damn right it was.”

“Well, he won’t bite you, at least.” The green eyed girl patted my back, a smirk plastered on her face. “Not unless you want to, I guess.”

“You are such a mean whore.” We both chuckled, our next stop being in front of Mr. O'Brien’s office, me knocking at the door twice. “And this is where I leave you, K.”

“Tell me the details!” She whispered, winking at me playfully. “I mean it!”

“Get out! Now!”

Williams raised her thumbs up to me, winking one last time then disappearing in the halls just before the brown haired man, also known as Greek God, also known as my chemistry teacher, opened the door. I certainly wasn’t ready to see him so loose, if that’s the correct term.

His hair was more disheveled than usual, the scruff still framing the beautiful pink lips, his white casual shirt had a button open, revealing an adorable puddle of chest hair, and his red tie was lying over his desk from what I could see. O'Brien directed me a comforting smirk, placing his rather large hand on my back, pulling me to get inside the room. One small comment so we can proceed: did he have a heater on or was it me that just suddenly grew warmer under his touch?

Gripping tighter on my hard covered book, I went forward to take seat on one of the first row’s places whilst he stayed behind to close the door. Okay, first minutes, still not weird. Maybe just a little bit. Why am I so tense?

“Are you okay, Smith?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit nervous…”

“You don’t have to be.” He smirked tenderly, pulling a chair to sit in front of me. “It’s just you and me, plus I won’t do anything to you.”

“Uh, people already think you-”

“Well, I seriously don’t mind what people think. You’re amazing, you know?” His eyes connected with mine for a while until he gazed down at his feet. “I meant as a student. That’s why I picked you to tutor.”

“Thank you, Mr. O'Brien, you are a wonderful teacher as well. I love your lectures so much!”

“That’s relieving, it would be pretty bad if my favourite student didn’t like them.” A small laugh slipped and, suddenly, all the nervousness was gone. “Should we start?”

“Yes, definitely.”

The following hour was simply incredible!

If him teaching to a whole class was good, having him as a mentor was even better. It was like he didn’t have to hold back nor maintain a straight face all the time. Plus the jokes? Damn, I could never have imagined he had such a great sense of humour. I mean, the man had gift on finding the right words to make me laugh like there was no tomorrow.

By the end of our time, I had not only gotten more confident on physical chemistry, but also met a side of my teacher I didn’t know previously. Mr. O'Brien, or Dylan, as he asked me to call him, was a sweet, caring guy. If the fifteen year old version of me had known this, she would be dead and buried now. God, I was a lame kid.

“It was nice being being with today.” He mumbled, nudging my shoulder with his and wearing the best smile in the whole wide world. “I’m glad we’ll be doing this for a few more weeks.”

“I’m glad too.” The watch on my wrist told me it was over six pm, which strictly meant my mum would be all over the place once I got home. “I should get going.”

“Wait, I-I…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, fuck it.”

Not thinking twice, he cupped my cheeks, pressing his perfectly shaped lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. At first I was surprised, however, as his tongue slowly licked stripe at my bottom lip, I melted away, surrendering to his touch. It was definitely nothing I could have ever dreamt about. The way his hands found the crook of my waist, how we moved in perfect sync… Everything felt like this was meant to be.

When air became necessary, we merely glued our foreheads together, gazes boring into one another. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t ideal, but, hell, I enjoyed this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, we shouldn’t-”

I didn’t want to hear the rest, he wouldn’t pop my bubble so soon, therefore, I kissed him again, this time with much more passion and hunger. So strong we were left a heaving mess afterwards.

“You’re an amazing kisser too.” O'Brien whispered, making me giggle. “I mean it.”

“You are one crazy person, O'Brien.”

“I told you should call me Dylan.”

“As you wish, Mr. O'Brien.” Playfully winking at him, I stole another peck, earning a small smile from him. “This is crazy… I mean, someone could have seen us! Oh, fuck, what if one of the cleaning ladies saw us? You could lose your job! Shit!”

“Relax, nobody saw us.” His thumbs massaged my cheekbones, trying to sooth me. “But you can’t tell this to anyone, okay? Not even Miss Williams. Even though I don’t regret one bit, I could really lose my job if this comes out.”

“Of course I won’t tell anyone, it will be our little secret.”

“Deal.”

I hid my face on the crook of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating musk of his cologne. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me; I mean, it was too surreal. If it was a rumour about Briannah, I would have believed more, because, well, she did want to do it, but me? Nah, it was messed up. Nonetheless, it wasn’t less real. I was indeed within his arms. And, in that particular moment, I decided to not care about the consequences any longer.

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