#why do they keep doing the pencil duck face thing

[spookyspecterino]

Distracted

Eddie Munson x !Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+NSFW/MDNI, Smut (Fingering, Fem Reader receiving), Public fingering (Not sure what to tag this as. Basically reader gets fingered in the middle of class by Eddie), Dirty talk, Eddie being bossy in one place.

Word Count: 4.5K

While in class, you and Eddie get to talking. Which quickly becomes something else when certain things come out...

A/N: Hey look, new favorite boy just dropped.

Watched Stranger Things S4 this weekend. At some point, in the middle of an episode, my laptop was pulled out and this was written.

“Y/N you’re almost five minutes late. Hurry along and sit down before I write you up for being tardy.”

You ducked your head as you passed your Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Dowry, who shot glares at you from the front of the class. Turning to walk down the aisle between the rows of two seated tables, an evil smirk twisted your face as you met eyes with your table partner, Eddie Munson. He was openly grinning like a fool, twisting a pencil in his fingers and biting lightly on the eraser.

Flattening your skirt behind you as you slipped into your chair in the back row, Eddie leaned over to you, shoulder bumping yours as he teased “And wheeere have you been, little Ms. Tardy?” Up front Mrs. Dowry began her lessons on chemical compounds, turning to face the white board. Eddie leaned a little closer to you, close enough that you could smell his hair product. He sniffed comically a few times then gasped quietly for effect “Is that…smoke I smell?”

You shoved him gently back with your shoulder, pressing your lips together to suppress a giggle “Why, Detective Sherlock Holmes—what are you doing in Eddie’s seat?”

His grin spread from ear to ear, “You know, if you get caught smoking in the girl’s bathroom one more time they’ll suspend you.”

While keeping an eye on Mrs. Dowry at the front as she continued to write on the board, you leaned over to whisper into Eddie’s ear—voice no louder than a breath “That’s why I was smoking in the boy’s bathroom.”

Eddie’s head whirled to look at you, mouth wide in the shape of an ‘O’. The glee in his expression made you snicker mischievously.

You had been sitting next to Eddie Munson for an entire year now in this godforsaken chemistry class, and while it was the hardest class you had ever taken—sitting next to Eddie made it all worth it. First meeting in this class and immediately taking to one another, you two had become inseparable.

“Class, open your text books to page 344.” Mrs. Dowry croaked from the front.

You leaned over to reach into your bag to retrieve the chemistry book. A warm hand pressed down on the seat’s edge of your chair, bulky rings and slender fingers grazing the skin of your thigh. Eddie’s sharp whisper, and the feeling of his breath on your neck sent shivers up your spine “Hey, I forgot my textbook, can we share?”

Giving him a snort, you leaned back up to place the textbook between you both on the table “You know you don’t have to ask, Eddie.” His brown eyes met yours for a moment, something unspoken lingered between you in the air.

Mrs. Dowry’s voice snapped both your heads forward, breaking the look “Eddie Munson, where’s your textbook?”

“Ah, well, you see Mrs. Dowry, that’s a great question…” he threw up his hands and gave her one of his signature lopsided smiles.

Mrs. Dowry, having seen that look a million times, rolled her eyes “If you don’t find your book by the end of the year, you’ll be fined for it. In the meantime, Mr. Munson, work with Y/N.” That lopsided smile turned to you, where it widened into something genuine. In an attempt to hide your reaction, you looked down to start flipping the textbook to page 344.

Eddie’s chair scoots closer to yours with a few squeaks “Now that we’re given permission…” he jokes, looking down at the pages as he sidles up next to you, arms rubbing against one another.

You feel as if you might melt. Over the course of the year, spending time with Eddie, you can’t deny the strong attraction you have to him. You’re bona-fide obsessed, but of course you are­—dude’s a rockstar. Many, many nights you lay in your bed, staring up at your ceiling, imagining what it would be like to have Eddie all to yourself.

And it’s the same every time, you stare up at the ceiling thinking about Eddie, until eventually, your hand finds its way between your legs, and you have to bite your pillow to hold back the sounds of you mewling out his name over and over—imagining the hand working yourself over is his.

“Are you taking notes on any of this?” Eddie whispers in your ear, soft brown eyes looking at you expectantly.

You blink, a light blush creeping into your face as you’re startled out of your late-night thoughts about him “Huh? Oh, uh—no, I haven’t been paying attention.”

His eyes narrow playfully “Where’s your mind at, Y/N? You look like you’ve been in space.”

You flex your thighs together noticing the wetness in between your legs “Yeah, maybe I have been…”

Keeping your face toward the front, you watch from your peripheral vision as Eddie scans your face for a moment longer before looking away. You’re not sure what he’s searching for, but your heartbeat pounds nonetheless.

He’s no doubt wondering what’s been up with you. The last couple of months—as you struggle to keep yourself under control around him, you drift in and out of your thoughts randomly. Sometimes getting lost completely.

Yesterday at lunch, as you sat next to Eddie and across from Jeff, you drifted into a daydream about what it might be like to come home to Eddie every night. Slip into a warm bed beside him, feeling his arms wrap around you—strong and secure. It had taken almost a minute of Jeff waving an arm in front of your face to bring you out of it.

Jeff sounded impatient as he stared you down “What the hell, Y/N? You awake?”

“Yeah, I’m good. All good.” You reassured with a shaky grin. You could feel Eddie’s eyes on you then, but you avoided looking at him.

Jeff only laughed, shrugging off the situation and making a joke to Eddie “I think someone was lost in a little daydream.” You couldn’t see Eddie react with more than a single, short laugh as he picked at his food with a fork.

Rolling your eyes at Jeff, you did your best to act unaffected “Shut it, dumbass.”

But this didn’t convince him, and he grinned up at Dustin as the freshman sat down on his opposite side, lunch tray in hand “Hey Dustin, we just caught Y/N in a full-blown daydream.” Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at you “Wanna share with the rest of the class?”

You took a bite of an apple, chewing slowly with an unimpressed look “I was thinking, would you drop it and let me eat in peace?”

Dustin grinned, hesitating to dig into his food to look at Jeff excitedly “Ooh, denial—that means she was thinking about someone she likes.” He looked back at you, leaning over his tray “Who? Who is it?”

Barking out a dry laugh, you stood from the lunch table, tossing your apple onto Dustin’s tray with a clatter “I am not gossiping with a child.” With one glace toward Eddie, who was watching you closely with an expression you couldn’t read, you backed away giving Jeff and Dustin a peace sign, “See you two idiots later.”

After, you immediately ran to the boy’s restroom and smoked one, or two, cigarettes; standing on a toilet in a corner stall and looking out the small, open rectangular window. Thoughts beginning to drift again to Eddie as you remembered that expression he wore as you left the table.

A shoulder nudge snagged your attention, Eddie was giving you the same look as he had yesterday, he slid over a notepad with something scribbled on it

If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me about it. No judgement.

You grinded your teeth, glancing at him. He gave you a pointed nod to the notepad and placed a pen on top of his message.

With a small sigh you wrote back,

I’m fine, it’s nothing.

After a moment, you frowned. No this wasn’t nothing, something was bothering you, but you just didn’t think he would want to hear it. You adjusted your message, then slid it back

I’m fine, it’s nothing just stupid shit.

Eddie took out a pencil and began writing, moving the pad between you both so you each could respond quicker,

I don’t mind. It’s not stupid if it involves you.

You blinked at the message, what was that supposed to mean? With a concentrated frown you scribble,

Appreciate that, but it’s about—

You hesitate, your pen stopping. Eddie looked up at you as you paused briefly, his face was patient, albeit a little worried. After consideration, you continued to scratch your reply down,

—it’s about my dumbass feelings

Eddie immediately drew a line, correcting your message to,

It’s about my dumbass feelings

Then, adding,

Stop that and tell me what’s wrong

Dear God, where you really going to do this now? Maybe you could just be ambiguous and he’d be satisfied with that. You bit your lip a little as you wrote back, feeling Eddie’s eyes on you and not the pad, waiting until you were done writing to look down at it,

I have feelings for a guy

You saw Eddie’s throat catch as he swallowed hard, that was strange and certainly not the reaction you were expecting. He was slow to respond as his brows furrowed together,

Does he like you back?

His response also caught you off-guard. Was he avoiding asking you who it was out of respect for your privacy or…something else? You scratched out, with emphasis,

I don’t know

Eddie’s expression lightened a little,

You haven’t told him?

With a quiet snort, your eyes flickered toward Eddie before responding,

Obviously not

His fingers twitched holding his pencil,

Do I know him?

Why wouldn’t he just outright ask you who it is? It was like he wanted to make it ambiguous. You started to feel hope rising in your chest, his reactions were leading you to believe me might care a bit too much on the subject…which meant…

Yes, you know him

He chewed on his lip a little, writing slow,

Please tell me it’s not one of the guys

You almost choked and you had to cover your mouth from making noise, glancing up to the front at Mrs. Dowry, who was yammering away on whatever the fuck she was teaching.

No,—

Your hand hesitated. Making a quick decision, you decided that you would go with your hunch, and if this all crashed and burned…well, it was your senior year. You could leave this town and never look back if you wanted.

—but they are in Hellfire Club.

Eddie blinked furiously down at your response, he pressed hard into the paper, leaving little bits of graphite behind as he underlined a part of his message, when he was done he looked back up to you and stared with an incredulous expression,

That means one of the guys or a minor!

A grin pulled of the corners of your mouth,

Think Eddie

He motioned with his hands silently at you and toward the paper, playing some weird, irritated version of charades, making you smile even more. When you didn’t offer him any sort of response, just sitting and giving him a knowing smile, he ran his hands through his hair in exasperation before scribbling furiously,

Who??

He hadn’t even finished the second question mark before you were moving to respond, hands brushing against one another on the notepad,

You

It looked as if something short circuited in Eddie’s brain as he stared down at the word, blinking once or twice in disbelief. This was the moment of truth as your stomach twisted painfully.

He turned toward you with wide eyes and pointed to himself, mouthing ‘Me?’

You nodded slowly with a tiny smile, trying your best to read his reaction. He blinked a few more times and your shoulders fell in relief as the widest smile you’d ever seen on him spread across his face, eyes lighting up as he pointed to himself, as if asking again in disbelief. You continued to nod, matching his smile. He ran his hands through his hair and jumped from his seat with a huge grin while looking down at you.

Mrs. Dowry sighed from the front of the class “Mr. Munson, why are you standing?”

Other students in the class turned and looked back toward your table at Eddie, who, without missing a beat, turned his grin to the class, placing a hand over his heart “Sincere apologies Mrs. Dowry, I just felt the need to.”

“Sit down.”

He gave her a short nod before falling back into his seat, breathlessly. You watched him, head held by a hand with your elbow resting on the table, wholly entertained and trying to contain your elation. Eddie’s hands moved toward your face but he pulled back with a glance to the front at Mrs. Dowry, who was still watching him with an annoyed expression.

Eddie turned to face the front, putting on his best ‘good student’ façade as he rubbed his shoulder into yours. He grabbed at the notepad, bringing it close to him, hunching over and scribbling madly onto it. Then passing it to you, he practically bounced in his seat as you read—or tried to read, almost all of his message was scratched out or written over,

You have no idea how much—this is amazing, I can’t believe it, I’ve wanted this for so long This makes me really happy. I want to kiss you

You bit your lip as you tried to hide your laugh, using your pen to tap on one of the crossed-out parts of his message ‘I want to kiss you’ you looked at him with raised eyebrows and a spreading grin.

He nodded eagerly, sparing a glance to ensure your teacher wasn’t looking, and leaned in close to whisper to you “Among other things.” Blushing furiously, you tried to cover your face to hide your embarrassment. You felt him shrug, one hand dropping down under the table, fingers ghosting along the side of your leg on their way to interlace with yours “Don’t tell me you haven’t felt the tension between us…”

Oh, you most certainly had. One time in particular coming to mind. It was late one afternoon as you walked down the hallway after school had ended, most students filtering out to head to home. As you opened your locker, Eddie had leaned on the locker beside it, giving you that devilish smirk he always did when he caught you unawares.

Without looking at him, “No, Eddie.”

He threw up his hands, circling around to the other side, pressing one arm up onto a locker and leaning on it, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes “I haven’t even said anything!”

You gave him a look “I know what you’re going to ask me…”

“What?” he challenged, leaning in closer, grinning wildly.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was obvious “You’re going to ask me to come to the woods and smoke a joint with you.” When he opened his mouth to deny it, you continued, placing books casually in your bag “And I’m going to repeat no, because we—” you turned poking him in the chest with a finger “have a chemistry test tomorrow, and we should be studying.”

Eddie made a face at you “Oh, com’ on. What are you so worried about; you’ll do fine.”

“And if I don’t do fine, I won’t pass the class—I’m already on the edge of a C minus…”

“Hey, hey, listen to me…” Eddie placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him “You. Will do. Just fine.” He shrugged, that wry smile returning “Aaand you can always study while you’re high.”

After another eye-roll, you huffed and closed your locker with a clang. Eddie wasn’t giving up so easily though “Wait, ok. How about this—we only smoke a little. When we come down, we can study together.” His expression told you that he thought this idea was brilliant.

“Eddie…” you trailed off, unimpressed. You turned to go, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

But Eddie’s hands landed on either side of your head, arms caging you against the lockers. Anyone else would have been terrified, no doubt that’s what he was trying to play into, but you just looked up at him, unamused.

He towered over you, leaning his head down close to yours “Ok, we’ll study together first—as long as you want. Then, we smoke.”

You laughed, staring at his ‘Hellfire Club’ t-shirt for a moment, then looked up to meet his eyes. You were very aware of how close he was leaning toward you and it caused your heart to skip a beat. In hindsight, this may have been the event to kick-start the drifting and daydreaming.

The smell of his cologne clouded your senses, and those soft brown eyes staring down at you had driven you wild. When you didn’t respond, Eddie’s eyes had begun to wander, trailing down your face and neck to your collar. You hadn’t noticed at the time, but his eyes had looked you over hungrily, hands gripping tight to try and maintain control so as not to pick you up right there and slam you against the lockers, tossing your clothes to the side and taking you all for himself.

As you looked back up to him, his eyes snapped back to your face, too quick for you to catch “…Ok, we study first, as long as I want—then we can smoke.” You raised a finger to point at him “Not before. After.”

He had grinned at you and crossed his heart with two fingers “I promise.”

Under the table, Eddie’s fingers began to trace small circles into your thigh from their position of holding yours, resting on the edge of your seat. You let out a shaky breath, whispering “I was very aware of the tension, and believe me when I say, that I can’t wait for school to end today.”

His fingers squeezed yours reflexively and he chuckled darkly, “It’s too long, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

As his fingers drew small patterns onto your thigh you had an idea. When Mrs. Dowry turned around to face the whiteboard, you leaned toward him and quietly breathed in his ear “Maybe we don’t have to wait.”

He glanced at you with a confused look, and you returned it with a slow spreading grin as you took his hand and placed it on your upper thigh. Eddie’s eyes opened wide in disbelief as you let go of his hand and spread his fingers out to grip at your inner thigh.

There was the start of a blush creeping into his face, but his eyes lit up with fireworks as he felt how warm you were under his touch.

“You sure?” He breathed, glancing at your lips a few times.

“Yeah. Why, you scared?” you teased him, moving his fingers to brush up against the edge of your skirt. That seemed to push him over the edge as you saw the fire ignite behind his eyes.

His hand moved on its own now as it inched up and under the fabric of your skirt, eyes locked onto yours, as if giving you a chance to stop him. Smiling, you turned toward the front and acted as if nothing was going on, turning to a new page in your textbook and reading.

Eddie’s hand crawled steadily up, squeezing at your soft skin occasionally, to halt at the touch of your lace panties on your inner thigh. You watched him from the corner of your vision and saw the pink of his tongue dart out to wet his lips as he watched Mrs. Dowry with alert eyes.

As he took a few more seconds of hesitation, you grew impatient and shifted your hips forward, moving his fingers to touch the wet spot on your panties. You heard a faint hiss of breath from him and saw his eyes dart to you, but you made no reaction besides the tiniest of smirks curling the corners of your lips up. Eddie chuckled lowly, narrowing his eyes at you playfully as you feigned ignorance.

He pressed his fingers deep into the wet spot, making you jolt a little in your chair. Your eyes met his hungry, dark, blown out pupils and blinked, as if challenging him. You turned to watch the front as an evil grin twisted his features. With one quick movement, Eddie’s fingers pulled your soaked panties to the side and ran a languid line through your folds.

The tip of your pen dug into the paper as you fought for control, heart beginning to hammer in your ears. You chanced a look at Eddie and saw the devil in his smile, his mouthed a ‘wow’ at you, probably referring to how positively drenched you were. Giving him a shrug, you acted unaffected, hoping it would drive him crazy.

It did.

There was a sigh from beside you as nimble fingers dipped low to rub against your entrance, while his thumb immediately found your clit and began to trace loose circles around it; just teasing the little bundle of nerves. You swallowed thickly, legs clenching together as sweat started to bead on your forehead. You hadn’t expected him to be this good, and you suspected he wasn’t even trying yet.

As his thumb applied light pressure to your clit you chewed the inside of your cheek, staring hard at the whiteboard.

His breath gently fanned across your neck as he leaned in toward you “You know, I’ve fantasized about this, probably a dozen times.” A slick finger dipped into your entrance once, only up to the first knuckle, then was pulled out to continue running along the outside. Bringing a hand you pressed your knuckles into your mouth, biting down and trying not to whine as his thumb began to flick at your clit.

“Oh, really?” your breaths were starting to come out sharp “Anything like what you imagined?”

He hummed softly into your ear “Even better, sweetheart.” He groaned very softly as he felt you clench around his fingers “Oh, what’s this? Someone likes to be talked dirty to?”

A finger dipped into you, deeper this time, giving you a slow pump, and you choked back a whimper. It was only loud enough for Eddie to hear, and he showed his appreciation by switching from flicks to thumbing tight circles on your clit. You squirmed in his hand, eyes fluttering as they fought to stay open.

“Goddamn, I can’t believe you wanted me to do this—so fucking hot.” He hissed as his finger pushed deeper into you. “Only in my wildest dreams, would I have ever imagined…”

This time you purposefully clenched around him, giving him doe eyes through your lashes. From his expression, you could tell it near about killed him. He growled, shooting a glance toward the front of the room where Mrs. Dowry had her back turned, “What I wouldn’t give to just take you right here on this table.”

Although you were fighting for breath as his fingers expertly worked you over, you still managed to add some heat to your words “We’ll save that for later, Eddie.”

His jaw clenched once, then twice, as his breathed out “You drive me insane—you always have.”

You smiled, pressing your lips into the back of your knuckles as you looked down at your textbook. The coil in your lower abdomen was tightening at a fast pace now. Eddie’s words adding to the pleasure you felt. If this was how well he was able to finger you on the first time—you trembled, imagining how much better it will be as you two grew more accustomed with one another’s bodies.

From the front of the room, Mrs. Dowry had asked a question, something about what number of neutrons, protons, and electrons were required to get a reaction from a chemical compound. However, no students were raising their hands to answer.

Eddie’s breath tickled your ear “Raise your hand and answer the question.”

You choked mid inhale, glancing at him like he was crazy, but his eyes were deadly serious. With your heart going into overtime, you slowly raised your hand, turning to face the front and trying to maintain a neutral face.

Mrs. Dowry called on you immediately “Yes, Y/N.”

Eddie’s fingers moved up to speeds you thought weren’t possible and your voice died in your throat with a cough, overwhelmed by the intense feeling of pleasure. Mrs. Dowry frowned at you, but you recovered, face heating up to a flame “It’s six Neutrons, five electrons, and five protons.”

She nodded at you “That’s correct.” Then turned back around to the board, saying something else, but you didn’t hear anything as your mind was scrambled by ecstasy.

Eddie’s lips pressed into the delicate area behind your ear, breath fanning out on your skin as he whispered, “Good girl.” Slipping a second finger into your pussy. Your hips bucked into his hand as you bit down hard on your lip, eyes screwing shut.

You were so close now, and your hands gripped the edge of your table for support. From beside you, Eddie chuckled “God, I cannot wait to fuck you. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

His words were enough to send you over the edge and your face twisted as your orgasm crashed over you, without mercy—Eddie’s fingers never slowing for a second as he prolonged your release. When you relaxed, shoulders falling and hands letting go of the table, Eddie’s fingers slowed to halt and gently slid out of your panties.

Lungs burning for air, you struggled to keep your breathing quiet and steady. You peeked over at Eddie to see him staring at you, sucking his finger clean—giving them a few licks to ensure he didn’t miss a drop.

He gave you a wink and you thought you might just pass away on the spot. The loud clanging of the class dismissal bell startled you, making you jump in your seat. Slowly, you put away your textbook and notepad and slung your bag over your shoulder. Your legs were wobbly as you tried to stand. Eddie’s gentle hand took yours and led you down the rows of tables and into the hallway.

The hurried bustling of other students around you was drowned out as your head still swam, trying to recover. Eddie’s strong hands held the sides of your arms as he locked eyes with you, carefully leaning you against the rows of lockers “You okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that rose from you “No, Eddie. You most certainly did not hurt me.”

His smile was beaming “Good. Listen, I want to meet you after last period today.”

“Ok, where?”

“Outside stadium, behind the bleachers.”

You gave him a wry smile “Can’t wait.”

Those soft brown eyes held yours for a moment longer before his hands came up to hold your face, lips pressing to yours. You were surprised at first, you had never known Eddie to be much of a PDA person, but as his mouth moved against yours, you couldn’t care less about anything other than you and him in that moment.

#eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things s4 #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader smut

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) p9

tw; blood, gore, insects, calorie counting, violence, body horror, general yandere shenanigans

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

I really pulled out the scientific calculator, pencil and paper for this chapter</3 (i mean i actually do stuff like that for all Language Barrier chapters, but this chapter is particularly egregious) but it was fun to fuck around with my research and logical thinking for this series, ironic cause this series is taking place in a nonsensical setting

thanx for reblogs and comments and messages <3 it do be keeping me going

as allwys no proofreadig <3 lower your expectations <3

masterlist

part 1, part 8, Part 10

You woke up to vigorous shaking. You had the faintest hope that everything was just one big night terror and you're being awakened by your spasming muscles.

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. The wind was slapping your face around, it's whistling loudly in your air and your hat is gone.

You tried your best to open your eyes, but the blinding sun hurts them, it feels like you're riding a rollercoaster of sorts.

Chittering...You heard fucking chittering. You pried your eyes open and gripped harder onto 2718's back.

You screamed when you saw the translator whack an insect away with her makeshift weapon, made from the Giant's bone. It nearly punctured the man's left feet if it wasn't for his quick footwork and the woman's brutal strikes. Your hair fluttered in the air, occasionally obscuring your vision.

You're unsure how fast 2718 is moving, but you're sure as hell that it isn't humanely possible to achieve. The translator is catching up, that means she's running at similar speeds. It made sense to you that she could do it, she's part cyborg after all. But 2718...

Your companion wrapped his arms tighter around you as he zipped past the worms shooting out from the ground, the translator is helping him clear the path around the two of you.

You noticed that her shoe has a hole. Blood was soaked around it, but her toes and feet are all intact. Interesting.

The insects didn't seem to target her though, mainly focusing on 2718's legs. This time, he's gracefully dodging them, missing by a mere millimeter.

You held on to dear life, feeling your soul leave your body when you felt those familiar tremors. Shrieking in horror upon seeing another three of them pop up simultaneously.

"Hey, shut up! We can't hear them!" Scolded the translator as she grabbed one using her bare hand. It squirmed in her grip pathetically before succumbing to its' death- by her hydraulic press grip. You pressed your lips together, hoping that you didn't accidentally lead the three of you to a certain death.

You watched her skewer its' carcass on the sharp end of her weapon. There was already two of them lifelessly dripping its' viscera down the ivory baton. Why was she collecting them?

Odd, if they can rely on hearing alone to detect the insects' position, why did 2718 need to open up his third eye?

You swallowed a surprised scream when she hurled one of her cadavers at you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried your best to duck. But before it would collide against your head, 2718 caught it.

You heard loud crunching and you felt his neck muscles moving. You tilted your head a bit to see that he shoved the entire thing into his mouth. His jaw was driving itself up and down to grind its' body to smaller, consumable chunks. Its exoskeleton ruptured and caused black goo to gush out past his lips. Some of it splattered onto you as it dribbled down his chin.

You gagged, having a full view of the translator doing the same thing. It was hard to watch, her mouth isn't as large as 2718's, she had to waste half a body. She wasn't exempt from soiling her clothes with dark sludge. They don't seem to be enjoying the taste either. They must be doing this out of necessity.

Her face scrunched up in disgust as she forced herself to swallow it. You were amazed that she went back to defend the both of you with no delay. Managing to impale another onto her spear.

You looked behind you to see the house rapidly approaching. Too fast, in fact. As much as you want to be home, you also don't want to be body slammed against it. You're not sure if 2718 is supposed to move this fast, at this point!

She hurled another dead insect at him. You sputtered when some of its' guts landed onto your face. 2718 shot you an apologetic look before continuing to munch away.

Suddenly, he pushed your head down and spun around. Your cries of confusion was muffled by his chest. But you understood as soon as you catch a glimpse of wood, the front door to his humble abode, being mere inches away from your eyeballs.

With a devastating crash, 2718 shot through the door. Splinters furiously flung about, shards of metal from its' hinges scraped at both of your skins, and the impact could be felt through him. However, his body absorbed most of it, attenuating the net damage done to your frailer form.

You heard a second clash a split second later, more chips of wood flew in the air and rained onto you. A heavy thud could be felt and heard next to the both of you.

2718 groaned in agony. Despite tasting blood as it spills from his mouth, feeling that his ribcage liquified itself in his chest, being physically unable to bend his legs, the first thing he did after recovering enough to move is to check on you. He hastily tucked his hands under your arms, propping you up directly on top of him. He is still laying flat on his back, on his decimated door.

You're obviously disoriented. You have a pounding headache and your nose is bleeding non-stop. He gently set you back down on his chest, closing his eyes and began chanting. Red stained his pearly whites and droplets of it sprayed all over you.

However, before he could make any significant progress, the translator thrusted another insect into his mouth. His eyes widened as he now tries to strangle her, but she plucked herself away as soon as it was secured in his mouth.

She crawled away, into a relatively safer corner to refuel herself too. She weakly ripped into the vermin and took her time to chew. 2718 is busy angrily gnawing on his share, so she loosened herself on the floor. Shiny mercury that was coating the jagged, translator-shaped hole in the wooden wall can also be found pouring out of her nostrils, eyes and mouth. As well as the area on her abdomen, where a broken glass pane is lodged within her flesh, forming a reflective puddle around her and where ever she touched.

The translator closed her eyes, coughing a couple times because her own... 'blood', went into her lungs. She needed a bit of time. This isn't just a mere nibble on the foot, this is a high speed collision, comparable to that of a major racecar crash.

Steadily, the silver liquids in their respective puddles began to vibrate. Then, slowly, inching themselves towards her. Rippling and ebbing, almost like someone directed a blow dryer against them. As long as she's not interrupted, it should be fine--

She cried out in pain as a boot drove itself into her diaphragm, forcing more of her liquid life out past her lips. The process came to a harsh halt, all unnatural movement ceased to be. She is back in square one.

The translator curled up into a fetal position, groaning, sniffling and whimpering. She glared at the man towering over her, letting his filthy, criminal blood drip onto her. You're unconscious in his arms as he carried you bridal-style.

He sneered at her with his blood stained, insect viscera covered lips.

The translator quivered in extreme pain, shakily cursing him to a horrible fate. Wishing ill will onto him.

2718 responded with his footsteps, growing softer as he head towards the bedroom.

She sobbed, her entire being was filled to the brim with hatred and anger towards the male. The translator clenched her jaw and balled her fist, she has nothing but contempt for 2718.

Meanwhile, 2718 stumbled outside. He used one of the wooden pillars as support. He pulled his boots off and threw it aside.

He rest a foot onto the sand.

Letting the insects come to him as he readied his daggers.

The man closed his two eyes, allowing a third one to open on his forehead.

Heart wrenching whimpers and cries woke you up. It sounded like it comes from the living room. You sniffled, grimacing when you felt something salty at the back of your throat.

You forced yourself up, it was a colossal task, as aches, bruises and cuts littered your entire body. You spotted the blood smears all over the pillow, gingerly tapping your upper lip with your finger, you found that you're still bleeding.

Using the walls and furniture as crutches, you made your way outside at a snail's pace.

You cradled your head, seeing the damage that the translator and 2718 caused to this building. It was severe, the door was blown off its' hinges. It was left in ruins on the floor. Another great hole was blasted through the window and adjacent walls. Inches of sawdust covered everything as if a blizzard has occurred in this very room. Strange, chrome liquid coated many of the wood piles, mostly pooling around the translator.

The translator! You rushed to her, plopping down to your knees. You shook her by the shoulder, trying to get her attention but avoid exacerbating her torment.

"...That bastard kicked me in the guts..." She struggled to open her eyes. "In the middle of healing, no less..." The translator hacked more silver fluids out of her throat.

You asked her what you could do to help.

Her finger feebly protruded out, pointing at something behind you.

You turned around to see her sharpened bone spear, it has one last insect carcass stuck to it.

You hurriedly picked it up, powering through the disgust as you used your fingers to pry its' corpse off the weapon. It was harder than you though, needing to muster all your strength to slide it off. Weirdly enough, its' exoskeleton felt velvety... You weren't expecting a centipede looking creature to feel like a 1970's car seat, you were expecting it to feel smooth. Like a shrimp.

That probably didn't make it easier for the both of them to stomach it.

The translator furrowed her eyebrows, you were taking a while to get her what she needs.

To her surprise, you returned to her with the insect crudely chopped into bite sized pieces. She was grateful though.

You looked away when she popped a sizable chunk into her mouth.

"Thank you..." She exhaled. Closing her eyes and letting herself relax on the floor.

You panicked, asking her if she's dying. You got no response from her.

You shook her again, not wanting to lose your only form of effective communication, no matter how dubious she may seem.

Your hands released her when you saw that her peculiar blood began slithering into her orifices. Even that on her clothes, it beaded out from the soft fabric and slid towards her nostrils.

You eyed her abdomen, there is a shard of glass. It looks like the blood was struggling to push it out.

You decided to help by wrapping your fingers around it, and yanking out of her body in one go. Some mercury sprayed onto you, it was scorching hot! You quickly swiped it away from your skin, you frowned when you see that it burnt your arm.

This made her howl, gurgling on her own metallic blood. She gave you a betrayed look, but upon seeing what you did, her hurt- emotional pain at least, washed away.

She now seem strong enough to stay conscious. All the liquid descended into her throat, she can now speak to you.

You asked what was the deal with these insects.

"Each of them are like... what? 4000 calories? At that speed that we're running in, we need those calories."

You asked how fast were the both of them running.

"About... 220 miles an hour. I know. It sounds impossible and you can't believe that you're alive after all... that." She weakly gestured towards the exit. 2718 is oddly no where to be found.

"We can do just about anything, we just need enough energy." She rested her hand on her stomach. She slowly turned to her side so she could rest on her back.

You asked how long you were asleep for.

"Ten minutes." Her hand stretched out to grab another insect chunk. She chowed down on it as soon as it touches her lips.

Ten minutes!? How far did the three of you travel from the lighthouse before the attack happened?

"Let's see.. six hours at about 2.5 miles per hour... 15 miles. Out of... about 70. That means we ran for the rest of it, all 55 miles."

Then... how many calories did they burn doing that?

"That jerk of yours is probably weighing around 200 pounds... He burnt around 7000 calories in 15 minutes-- not including self regeneration. I'm... 132 pounds, so I must have burnt like 4500-ish calories in that 15 minutes. But I needed another 3000 at least to heal my foot... oh yeah, they ate my foot. So I ate them." She snickered as she reached out to snack on the insect.

So it took 15 minutes... to complete a journey that would have taken 22 hours by walking. Goodness you.

Then, you asked her if she 'pulled these numbers out her ass'.

"No, I got some sensors built in. I'm part terminator, remember?"

Terminator... sounds like a pop culture reference.

You guess it made sense.

You asked if 2718 also has these sensors.

"I don't know." She swallowed her last bite. "I don't like him."

That's a given.

"I hope you'll be okay when I'm out of here. I'll try to check up on you from time to time, though. That is, if I manage to even see you without that asshole clawing my eyes out."

You nodded, also wishing her luck.

Then a question crossed your mind, where does 2718 keep his teleporters? You asked her that and she hummed in response. Not knowing the answer to that.

"At this point, I don't know if he even owned any. He probably conned me, what a prick." She grumbled.

That... could be true. You haven't seen him utilizing it aside from that one trip. Maybe he only gets them from his visitors.

"You got any more of these?" She lifted her meal up. "It's not enough, I need another... 12000 calories to fix my ribs, my failing organs, my fractured skull..." She trailed off. Seemingly too many injuries to list.

You scratched the back of your head. You can't hunt these your own. The kitchen's locked too.

You asked if she could drink the blood that's dripping from your nose. It's not like you can get them back.

"Hard pass. It's not going to give me that energy and it's gross."

You shook your head no, sorry. You don't think you have any more caloric dense food to spare... or any food at all. You then asked her where her backpack is.

As if on cue, her backpack slammed against her upper torso from a great height. Knocking the air out of her lungs and mildly resetting her healing progress again.

You looked up and behind you to see 2718. He tossed three insect carcasses onto her greatly weakened body. He crouched down, grabbing your chin and inspecting you for any other injuries.

He must be practicing his new abilities. Fresh blood streaked down his cheeks, but his eyes were clear and healthy.

You were alarmed by the amount of insect glop that he was coated in, it was much more than usual, as if he bathed in them beforehand. He left black, slimy footprints behind him.

You peered over his shoulder and spotted... a gargantuan version of the numerous vermin carcasses that he's carrying around his neck like scarves. Ink surrounded it and the porch, making it seem the cabin is in the middle of a stygian sea.

"H-he said that's the mother." The translator coughed as she heaved the heavy backpack off her abdomen. She took deep breaths before continuing. "Once you killed any of its' young, she will come for you, bringing its' hoard of children."

You estimated the size of the mother to be as big as a bus. Double decker.

He lets go of your face and gently pushed you in the direction of the bedroom. You resisted it and walked around him.

"He wants you to rest."

You don't want to. You don't trust him around her, 2718 might just kill the translator if you're not looking!

"I'm not telling him that." Said the translator. But she said something to him anyways.

To your utter surprise, he narrowed his eyes and left her alone. He didn't leave just yet, he offered his hand to you.

Naturally, you asked her what she told him.

"I said that you though that he was cool, and handsome, and hot-- and you want to see him do... things. I don't know, I'm too tired to think of a proper translation right now." She closed her eyes. Letting her head loll to one side.

"Have fun or whatever..." She drawled. Falling silent after that. She remained motionless in the next few minutes.

Your attention was brought back to 2718 when he took the liberty to grab your hand in his sticky ones. You squirmed, despising the feeling of bug guts on your skin. Nonetheless, you followed him outside.

For your translator's sake.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #yandere cw #cw yandere #tw gore #tw insects #tw blood #tw body horror #tw calories #tw violence #tw graphic #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere male oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #tw afab reader

[pastafossa]

Dear pasta

Do you have any wood carving tips for beginners?

I bought a bunch of wood and a couple of knives and idk what to do

BOY DO I. And I'm in a good spot for it because I have FOUR carvings of the same design in various stages of completion to assist.

I'm going to also put this behind a cut so that anyone who's like br br pasta it's just wood wood is boring NO IT'S NOT IT'S AMAZING isn't forced scroll by. Although I'm keeping the first tip in the open because IT IS VERY IMPORTANT.

TIPS FROM SIX YEARS OF CARVING/INJURIES/VISITS WITH MY CARVING TEACHER.

First, get yourself a pair of no cut gloves if you haven't already. I use these! They're cheap and they WILL save you a trip to the ER. Take it from someone who carved without them once and slipped with their knife and basically cut themselves down to the bone in their hand. 7 stitches and one bitchin scar later, I now never carve without gloves.

OK. So when starting, you're going to have your wood in of three forms: a blank (a small block of wood), a cut out (a blank that's been cut by a bandsaw into a basic shape), or a rough out (a cutout that's had most excess cut away and just needs details and final shaping). I don't know obviously which you have, but a LOT of people starting out aren't aware that when you're learning you can often purchase cutouts that make things easier (Hummul for example has a lot!). You can still carve from a blank, though! It'll just take a bit longer. Here's a picture with the 3 stages of my sea serpent design, and the first sea serpent I ever made that I carved from a blank, so you can see what I meam (coils are different on 3 just cause I felt like it, so ignore that).

When starting, try to stick to more simple designs so you don't get overwhelmed. Think smaller, basic shapes, usually made of something like basswood which is a nice soft wood (easy to cut). My teacher for example starts everyone on basswood rubber ducky shapes! So there's no complex details, and more abstract shapes. These are three of the carvings I made that first week of my class as an example (the little face is called a wood spirit and you can find a lot of guides for them on youtube, they're very popular!)

There is a basic process here that we can see with the sea serpents again! Step 1 you trace your design. Step 2, you're removing the large or small chunks of excess (this is where some use a bandsaw if accessible). Step 3 is rounding and shaping. And step 4 is adding details and finishing. If you're not sure about shapes, consider using some basic outlines from online! I've even used toys to give me a basic shape!

GRAINS: when you first begin to cut, you're going to want to cut with the grain as much as possible. Wood carves far more easily when your knife moves with the grain than against it. There will be points where you have no choice (this is why basswood is a popular wood for beginners and experts alike - little grain, very soft), but try as best you can to go with it. You'll feel it when you cut with it - it'll be a lot easier, but depending on the wood, you can also see it! The bottom wood has an easy to see grain, the top one a bit harder (also note the difference between the band saw lines - perfectly straight and up and down - and the actual grain - left to right, more wavy, nature hates straight lines), and the middle you'll have to look closely to see. If you've got pretty natural grains, most carvers stain or seal them without paint. Basswood's got borderline no visible grain so is almost always painted (see duck above). You'll likely develop a preference as time goes on, too!

If you're carving from a straight up wood blank, try to make your design fit the shape as closely as possible. This will minimize the amount of excess wood you have to cut off! Especially since your first step is removing what doesn't belong before you start curving and rounding (there's also pencil marks on the top, so I know what I'm carving on all sides).

SHARPEN SHARPEN SHARPEN. If you've got a good knife, it likely came pre sharpened, which is great and can serve you for quite a while, especially if you're cutting softer woods! But you're also going to need to sharpen your knife regularly - I'm working on a very hard walnut dolphin atm and I'm sharpening every 20 minutes or so cause it wears the blade down. To sharpen, you use a strop. There are additional guides for that and places to buy one, but if you're handy you can make one. My teacher's (and mine) is literally strips of cork board covered in compound, and glued to two sides of a wood paddle. Very cheap. 😂 If you need tips on sharpening, let me know!

If you're going to use a natural finish on your wood (i.e. anything but basswood), you'll want to sand after carving and before sealing! Start with 80 grit, then move to 120 grit, and finish with 240. Note: as you start to sand, you'll see lots of little spots appear! You want to sand those away!

MOST SEALANTS ARE TOXIC TO BREATHE, DO IT OUTSIDE OR WEAR A MASK! If you want to avoid that, seal with something like Tried and True Original Finish or try carving wood you paint instead, since you basically carve, skip sanding, and paint with watered down acrylics!

Lastly, the way I hold my knife when carving: I use my thumb against the non-cutting edge to 'push' the knife in a hingeing motion (I'll see if I can make a gif for it at some point). It takes some strain off your hands and lends more strength to the knife for harder or quick cuts. You can also cut VERY fast once you get this down, and my teacher's approved it as a valid technique.

I hope these help! I love love LOVE carving and wish there were more classes around for people to take! Fortunately there are a lot of youtube vids and guides but SO much of it is really just practice. It's also an incredibly soothing hobby. I love sitting in front of a movie or series or listening to a podcast/audio book while I just sit and cut away. And remember, if you have a blank and get into it and start to feel overwhelmed, there are plenty of cutouts and roughouts you can try instead that mean all you need to work on is shaping and detailing! Let me know if you have any other questions!

#woodcarving #i love woodcarving so much and love to talk about it 😂 #it is so gd calming and not a lot of people are doing it anymore sadly #my teacher is like 80 something and worried it'll become a lost artform #so i love to spread the word of how SERIOUSLY FUCKING COOL THIS IS #my mantle is covered in pieces for a reason and my friends love getting them as gifts 😂 #plus eventually you can make FANDOM THINGS #(not me making a Bucky Barnes bear carving and having plans for a Beardevil 👀) #also seriously wear your gloves though #the er doctor was like WOW this is such a smooth cut almost like a scalpel! what were you doing??? #but at least my scar on my hand is a cool story now #gloves mean no scar for you 😂

[fiveapocalypse]

Sweet dreams

Thing I wrote because I was bored. (Sort of inspired by you @in-a-slanted-outhouse )

“Shut up, stop talking, you’re being ridiculous.”

Lila doesn’t know how she got into this predicament, even though she knew why she was in it in the first place, and groaned as she rubbed a hand over her face. “You’re cranky,” she says, ready to grab the pillow and suffocate the boy to sleep, “go and take a n—”

“I don’t need a fucking nap!” Five hisses, “I’m not a baby, I’m not some child that can’t function without sleeping every few hours. Lila, shut up.”

She so badly wants to retort that grown men don’t throw temper tantrums and get frustrated over the smallest things because they haven’t napped in god knows how long but Five would just throw another pillow at her, or his pencil, or pen, or notebook, or shoe, and really—she did not need to have the room a mess because Five thought he was well above taking a few hours to rest. “You’re delusional,” Five keeps talking, pacing up and down, curling his hands into fists and growling like he was a fucking dog but actually, Lila thinks he was more like a puppy, tiny and territorial and much too sweet to even the cruelest of masters. “I don’t need a nap, I don’t need to ‘rest my eyes’, I don’t need milk or a fucking lullaby or, god forbid, a bedtime story.”

Lila wonders if part of Five’s trauma was that he just never got to have those things as a kid. Diego said Grace was a mom to them, and she certainly acted and felt like one, but he also said that Five was separated from the others, and that if he spent one day with Grace, his brother spent even more time with Reginald. “Okay,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender when Five whirls around and bares his teeth at her, “sure, whatever you say, I don’t really care. Just, keep it down.” His brows raise, head slightly tilted, as if he assumed Lila was going to keep fighting him over this.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

It takes a while, a few minutes at least, for Five to go back to his weird math shit. Lila takes that chance to head to the kitchen, fix up a cup of milk with honey and cinnamon and let it warm on the stove. Peeking into the living room reveals that Five is still doing his math shit, albeit more angrily and ready to tear the paper out and start screaming all over again. His hair is a mess, and his eyes have bags under them that sink so low, it looks like he doesn’t have eyes at all. Even his body is suffering, gaunt and small, twig-like, as thin as a small branch. Lila ducks back in, and grabs a thermos, dumping the milk inside.

She tiptoes back, watching Five out of the corner of her eye. He’s so exhausted, he doesn’t even notice when she hands him the thermos, or when he takes a sip, and doesn’t immediately taste bitter, black coffee.

In fact, dare Lila say it, he’s abandoned his math in favor of drinking the milk, likely because he didn’t want to waste it, but Lila couldn’t care much about that, not when Five was fluttering his eyes open and closed. “Hey…” she whispers, taking a step forward, and pausing when his head snaps up towards her. Okay, no sudden movements. He was like a toddler, make any noise and he’s awake for another three hours.

“How about….” Lila reaches for his pencils and pens, and notebooks. “We put these away…” She tucks them into little neat piles. Five just stares at her doing it, now rocking himself back and forth on the carpet. At least he’s not trying to stab her again. “And then… we can get on the couch…” She is talking to a baby, a baby who doesn’t look like a baby but is, in her eyes, a baby. He looks at the couch, looks at her, looks at the couch, looks at her, and then he climbs up on it, and Lila nods just to show her approval. “You.. uh, you keep drinking that,” Lila whispers, pointing to the thermos, “I’ll… be right back.”

It does not take long to find a blanket. Specifically the fluffy one that Five keeps fucking stealing from her. He likes it a lot, for some reason, so she wraps him up in it and he looks so tiny, it makes her want to punch her now deceased mother in the face. Five’s green eyes watch her every move, slightly glazed over, and Lila clicks her tongue as she crouches next to him, and pulls at the strands of his hair. “You said you didn’t want a lullaby, huh?” She snorts, rolling her eyes, “but I think you’ll like this story about a prince who was much stronger than people gave him credit for.” Five grumbles, yawning, and Lila lets out a laugh.

“That is, if you can stay awake long enough to hear it.”

(Five does not stay awake; immediately heading to sleep when Lila gets into ‘once upon a time…’ but she doesn’t mind, cleaning up his atrocious workspace, taking the thermos away from him, and, when Diego comes home from work, enlists his help in taking a photo that does nothing but make Five turn away in his sleep and mumble.)

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #five hargreeves the boy #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #kid five & dad diego #kid five & mom lila #something like that #hey ya’ll #here’s this thing

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

Oops

A year ago, Oops was posted to Ao3. It's my only 4+1 things. 5,932 words of Garvez, humor, feelings denial, the whole cast, all while accidentally injuring Kevin Lynch, it's easy to see why this was a much enjoyed fic.

ONE

"I’m sorry, he did what? He said what? After she was shot by a date he broke into her apartment, shut off the breaker, lurked in the dark, and then told her she was overreacting?! And you all didn’t murder him? Morgan didn’t break his face pushing him down the stairs?”

Luke's feeling on Battle's fate was undeniable when told, but hearing what she was made to put up with after, from someone who purported to love her, awashed him with new bitterness.

“She didn’t tell us until a lot later. I think she knew some of us would have come close to losing our jobs.”

Throw.

Catch.

Throw.

Catch.

“...the way she’s THEE soundbite for work-place sexual harassment.”

Luke laughed, ducking his head. Catch. Throw.

“It cooled off after you left, and I was definitely never a recipient.”

Catch. Morgan’s eyebrows raised. “Huh.” Throw.

They were in the empty gym tossing a baseball back and forth. Morgan was in town doing some consulting work for the FBI. They had started the game up in the BAU office, but were quickly pushed down to “a more appropriate place” as Prentiss put it. One close call too many and “other people trying to work”. The two men had some familiarity before Morgan left and Luke joined, but grew closer through the group chat Garcia resistantly added Luke to and refused to take Morgan from.

“She slipped up once though, and started to” a lopsided smile appearing at the memory.

Catch.

“then caught herself and told me: That sounded like flirting. I don’t do that with you. It’s in my mission statement.”

Throw.

Catch. Morgan shook his head. “Baby Giiiiirl”

Throw.

They were moving back and forth, throws alternating from hard to soft. Conversation had gone from family life, to the job, to reminiscing. It was an easy flow of comparison, no pissing contest, neither needing to prove anything to the other. They respected each other, liked one another, understood the stresses of the job they each faced, loved the same people...

“I told her to try being a little more friendly with you.”

Catch.

“Yeah, maybe remind her. Daily.” More laughing.

Throw.

Morgan caught the ball with one hand and twisted his wrist looking at his watch. “It’s Friday night and almost quitting’ time. You think those pencil pushers are gone yet?”

Throw.

“Only one way to find out.” Luke grinned, "Head up?”

They hadn’t bothered to stop the game, toss, catch, toss, catch. Through the hall and up the elevator, seeing the room all clear they continued in throwing.

“Eaaay, Pretty Boy, wanna join in? Jayge?” Rossi and Prentiss watched from the catwalk as the team spread out across the room, ball flying and fumbling.

“So we all goin’ out tonight? Or is it just me and my girl?”

Penelope appeared, all packed up, from around the corner joining Rossi and Emily in watching. “Aww, Sugar, it’s your last night. I thought we were gonna stay in bed and watch a movie.” she simpered.

Throw.

Catch. The game continued around the room.

“Woman, you can’t keep me there all the time. And anyway, I hear you still need bonding practice with my boy here.”

Throw.

Penelope looked from Derek to Luke, Luke making a mocking “told you so” face in return. Catch.

Her eyes narrowed, “We just went out. Fine. Are you all done? Let’s go!” and swept her hand for emphasis, everyone else making for the door.

Spencer had the ball, so took the opportunity for one last toss. He threw it hard, but off center. Luke lunged sideways to catch it, not noticing the scrunched and wide-eyed faces ranging from shock to amusement, only hearing the words “oh shit” and “oh no” too late, his body colliding forcefully into another as he leapt diagonally tackling something large, and soft, and meaty. Another person. They tumbled to the ground Luke on top of Kevin, hand with ball having clocked him directly on the side of his head. Luke looked down hand still gripping ball. “Oooh.” Sorry?”

“That’s why I said GYM!” Emily threw her hands up, vindicated.

What was Kevin doing here so late?

Kevin huffed a laugh, “Can you get off me, Alvez?”

“Right, yeah.” Luke pushed up, stifled laughter and coughs falling around them.

Instinctually, he grabbed the other man and pulled him to his feet, steadying him. He may not like him, but it was a genuine accident and he felt bad.

Alvez, that pretty boy neanderthal from Fugitives Task Force. Kevin didn't like him on principal, hated him now that he'd punched him and then righted him like some child. Completely embarrassing.

Fucking asshole

Everyone liked him, his smug face, his need to be better than everyone else, prove how much stronger and smarter he was. His constant doubting of the information Kevin had given him. It wasn’t his fault a fugitive moved, that’s what they do, that’s why they’re fugitives! He never had a steady girlfriend, he was definitely one of those guys who used a new girl every weekend. And now he was here working with Penelope. His Penelope. He could only imagine what that was like. He knew how she was with Morgan, he could see how easy it would be for her to slip right into that pattern with this one.

Morgan moved closer, arms folded tight across his chest. “Kevin.”

Morgan never did like Kevin for Penelope, found it unbelievable how quickly he moved in on her, felt he was taking advantage of someone who had just experienced serious trauma. Emotions run high during times like that and people form weird bonds. It was the only explanation he could come up with for why Penelope Garcia, brilliant goddess, would forgive him and put up with his bullshit time and time again. But now that they’d been through for a while, years, he wasn’t about to let him slip back in.

“Hey, Morgan.” the man shied away, but straightened up.

“Kevin,” Penelope rushed, “ we were all just leaving. Whatever it is it’ll have to wait until Monday.”

Rossi stepped off the catwalk, tagging team members as he walked, “You heard the Kitten, team. My house for Morgan’s last night.”

Kevin was left standing alone.

TWO

Luke had run into Kevin in the previous divisions he worked in before settling in with BAU. And though he generally liked everyone, he hated Kevin Lynch. Growing up he was aware that his athletic build could be imposing and that his looks could be alienating, so he really did try to be as friendly and open with everyone as possible, let them know he wasn’t an asshole. But not with Kevin Lynch. The stories just added to his dislike, one more piece of evidence tipping the scale out of Kevin’s favor. One more thing that highlighted how self-centered, manipulative, and incompassionate he really was. But he was a professional, so until Kevin showed up on a list somewhere, he wasn’t going to do anything. Kevin wasn’t really his problem, he just tried to stay clear of him as much as possible. Weirdly, that wasn't working out lately.

He rolled over looking at the clock. Fuck. 10 am. He was in so much shit. He had to go. He was late. Why hadn’t his alarm gone off?! Where was Roxie?! Oh, yeah, still at the sitters. Thank god. Luke tore off the blanket, jumped in the ice cold shower, quickly washing down like he’d learned in the military and hopped out. He grabbed a clean gray shirt and jeans, ripped a navy button-up off the hanger, pulled on his boots, and brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink while a cup of instant coffee heated in the microwave. In 5 minutes he was out the door and attempting to avoid mid-morning traffic and collisions.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Thankfully, Emily was pretty understanding, but he really needed to finish up those reports and get them turned in. Like he had planned on doing this morning.

His phone rang while he was driving. He answered, hands-free. “Alvez? Where are you?” came the clipped voice on the other end.

“Sorry, Prentiss, I’m on the highway now… unexpected late start. I’ll be there in 20.”

“As soon as you can. We’re briefing. New case.”

She sounded pissed.

A sick anxiety flooded him. Of course this would happen the one time he woke up late. The one time his alarm didn’t go off or he hadn’t heard it…No time to inspect what really happened there. And now he had to try and fight his way though this traffic and get to work and he couldn’t finish up his paperwork and he would end up getting even more because of the new case. God damn it. He couldn’t catch a break. He swooped into the FBI parking structure, tires squealing as he took turns around poles and pulled into a spot at the far end of the lot. He grabbed his bag and rushed towards the elevator.

Pushing the button, he bounced on his toes.

Come on, come on, come on. Hurry up.

That’s when he noticed the note, the lack of light at the top. Elevator was down for maintenance. He had to take the stairs and use the lobby entrance. As he darted up the stairs taking steps three at a time he couldn’t help but laugh thinking about Garcia in her platform heels climbing these same stairs this morning, coffee and computer in hand. Struggling. Fussing. If he had been on time he might have been able to offer her help in carrying something. Walked up with her. But here he was darting up the dirty cement blocks alone and late. And holding everyone else up.

Light shone through the walls, ground level. He’d made it. Just a few more steps. Luke burst through the stairwell doors, running across the front of the building, reminding himself to walk when he got to the main lobby entrance. Didn’t want to set off alarm bells. Though he was sure they had lots of irritated agents passing through, frustrated at having been inconvenienced.

Luke opened the large glass door, cool air-conditioning hitting him instantly. “Luke Alvez?”

Shit.

His access badge. “Morning, Gina…I..”

She threw her hands up knowing exactly what he was going to say. “Downed elevator’s bringing in all the old faces this morning. Go through the scanners and come see me.” The elevator was adding more time already, he really didn’t have time for pleasantries, but it would take longer to run back down the stairs and then back up again. And it might offend Gina. He quickly offloaded his weapons into the tray and walked through the scanners. All clear. One thing going his way this morning. He collected his stuff and was putting it all back in place while walking over to the older lady.

“I could see you were in a bit of a rush, BAU now huh?” she handed him something to sign. “I cleared you. Sign it and go. But make sure to bring me a coffee some time, yeah?”

Luke beamed at the woman. “Thank you. “

“Oh, hey, Alvez, elevator inside’s down for the next hour too. Gotta take the stairs.” she gave him a tight lipped frown pointing off to the side.

“Fffffuh-“ he sighed, and took long strides towards the stairs, rubber soles of boots gripping and propelling him along the slick tile floor. Shortly he found himself racing up another set of steps, and another, and another until he’d hit the BAU’s level. At this point he gave up all pretense and ran. God, they were going to give him so much crap. He wouldn’t blame them if they had briefed without him and just made him catch up on the jet. There was the door! Luke grabbed it, but something bright and blonde racing along the catwalk on the other side caught his eye and his breath as he was opening it.

He thrust the door inward watching her disappear around the corner, the door meeting a heavy resistance, a loud thunk, and an even louder “OW! What the FUCK!? Alvez?! ”

And there he was.

Kevin Lynch. Gaslighting asshole.

Laying on the floor of the BAU office.

And there she was, head popping back around the corner to investigate.

Luke leaned over, extending a hand as everyone in the office watched in dead silence. “Oh, Lynch. Sorry about that, I didn’t see you...” He was kind of embarrassed, if he hadn’t been watching Penelope he’d have definitely seen Lynch. And though he had new reasons to leave this monster on the floor and walk over him, he was in a governemnt building with lots of on-lookers. Best to make nice and move on.

Kevin ignored the proffered hand getting up on his own, hands going from forehead to nose rubbing, feeling, checking for the blood that was definitely oozing. “The doors are glass, Alvez." he spat “Clear. How could you not?”

Luke bounced from the injured man to Penelope, still peaking out from the corner covering her mouth, eyes squinted … was she laughing? He made sure that her eyes were on his when he made his apology, “Sorry. Distracted.” and brushed past Kevin.

What was he doing up here any way?

Fuck Lynch.

He had a rainbow to catch.

THREE

Luke wasn’t normally accident prone, so she found it pretty suspicious that he kept accidentally injuring Kevin. After JJ recounted the lows in her relationship to him over drinks one night. She thought he sounded a little jealous, looked a little hostile… like she’d been told Derek had when Kevin announced to the whole team they were dating while stepping up to Rossi…after she told him not to. Whatever. But, she shook it off, no reason Luke should be jealous, they were teammates, nothing more.

"You know, if you had a system of organization, you would be less likely to lose things.”

"Spencer, I love you like a brother, but I will hurt you.”

Luke was franticly shuffling manilla files, gray folders, stacking, restacking, unstacking. Desk. Chair. Floor. Open desk drawer, slam it closed.

“What he means is, if you didn’t keep your desk looking like the under side of your teenage bed, you’d know where you put it.”

Luke ran his fingers through his hair pulling, “TARA- Not. Helping.” he gritted out and broke into a strained laugh thinking about the very neat room he kept as a kid, continuing to grab at files, read and toss, read and toss.

“Even now, you’re mixing up stacks! Do you know what you’ve looked at and what you haven’t at this point?” Spencer continued safely from the other side of the cubicle.

Luke broke down collapsing into the chair, head falling into his hands, reports slipping onto the floor, more stressed laughter floating around them. “No. Guys, help me. Or don’t, but I need to find this file, I have to be in court tomorrow.” He wasn’t normally messy, his house was spotless, everything in it’s place. Efficiency. But work had gotten away from him, case after case, file after file, paperwork mounting and more frequent trips away for longer…Things had gotten a bit out of hand at his station. Normally he liked to have everything cleaned up, finished and put away before he left, but they’d been busy so much lately…and now it was missing. And it should have been near the top, if not on the top. He was JUST looking at it yesterday. In this very building.

Tara frowned sipping her coffee, “Alright, just calm down. Relax, close your eyes. Let’s walk through it. Go back to what you last read.”

"You wanna do a cognitive?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

“Just, go with it. Think about what it said. What you were thinking about. Notice the feel of it in your hands, the object under you. Where are you?”

Luke leaned back in the chair, trying to focus as much as possible, eyes closed, going back. “I’m in the BAU. I know that. Tara, I had it with me yesterday, here. But now it’s not.” He threw his head back frustrated.

“Ok.” Spencer removed his bag, storing it under his desk, “How about we each take a stack. We’ll go through things together. But after, you really need to figure out a system. In box and out box or something.” he suggested.

Tara took a stack of gray files, Spencer took a stack of manilla, and after he’d read and confirmed each was not the right one, he put all of his in chronological order, earliest to latest. And then the ones Tara had gone through, and then the ones Luke was going through. By the end all of Luke’s reports were tidily together, organized and in a manageable order. But that file was still missing. He slumped into the black leather, defeated. “I don’t understand. It should be here. Fuck.”

Tara leaned against the desk, thinking about possible scenarios. They worked in a secure building, it’s not like someone would come take it off his desk. “-Hey…Alvez, did you, maybe, take it home last night?”

“I-.” He didn’t think so, but anything was possible. “I’ll be back, if anyone asks.” and out he raced down the elevator, into the parking lot, and out to his truck.

“So… is he going home?" asked Spencer. Tara clapped him on the back, “Don’t worry about it.”

He rummaged through the center console, felt around and peeked under all his seats, shoved his hands between the cushions, and checked in the seat pockets. Nothing. Of course. Locking the vehicle, he sighed heading back in.

Where could he have left it?

Backpack. If he did bring it home, maybe it was in his bag.

Nervous energy mounted as the elevator slowly climbed higher. He dodged under his desk frantically grabbing at his backpack. His last hope, it had to be there whether he remembered packing it or not.

Please be there Please be there Please be there

Feeling the weight, he knew the answer before ever unzipping it. He squeezed his eyes shut tight willing it by some magic to Mary Poppins itself into life. He thrust his hand in, dug around the familiar textures and shapes. Opened them, pulled it wide and tossed it to the floor.

“FUUU-“ A loud, warbling yell boomed behind him, he turned to see hands grasping wildly at his desk as a large body fell forward, feet tangled in straps. Lynch. Shit. First he punches him, then he plows him down with a glass door, now he trips him with a backpack.

Why was he up here anyway? Wasn’t he supposed to be on level 2?

“Newbie! What are you doing? I mean besides setting up tripping hazards for other employees?” A high, anxious, familiar nagging.

Luke turned his head from the man on the floor to the woman standing feet away, shock and guilt evident on his face. And he couldn’t help it, he started to laugh. It was a little funny, it was kind of like karma. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking I didn’t mean to….I was just… I’m trying to find a file!” He wiped the smile off his face turning back to the man, “Lynch, I’m sorry. Here, let me.” He may hate him, but he could be nice for Garcia’s sake. Just because he didn’t like the guy didn’t mean he couldn’t be civil. He reached for Kevin, now on all fours scowling.

“Don’t touch me. Just be more careful.” He reached stinging hands up to the desk pulling himself upright facing Luke.

Penelope cut in, newly annoyed, “You mean the one you LEFT in my cave yesterday?! Here.” She gave him a pointed look and slammed the report to his chest, walking briskly past the two men into the kitchenette.

They both watched her go, Luke wondering what he’d done to make her so mad all of a sudden, then faced one another again. Luke’s unoccupied hand came out in apology, “Really, Lynch, it was an accident”, a peace-offering shake extended between them. Kevin's jaw flexed looking Luke up and down. “Don’t worry about it.” he grumbled, and walked off.

Penelope’s office. That’s right. He was holding it when he came to say good night.

FOUR

He wasn’t jealous. Really. There was no reason to be jealous. If anything, Kevin should be jealous. After all, he got to work with her every day, have her talk to him, on the rare occasion when she slipped up, flirt with him. He got to hug her, and touch her, and hear her laughter, hangout with her and see her at parties, cook dinner at Rossi's. Kevin would never have that again, had he ever. No, he wasn’t jealous Kevin Lynch, that awful no-bounderies slimy tech analyst he had history with had been with Penelope. Their Penelope. They were accidents…mostly. Really.

It had been a long, bad case. They all needed to decompress before heading to their homes, to their families, to the people around them who simply would never understand. They would not wish for them to understand. Even Matt, who found the greatest comfort in being with his kids and Kristy, couldn’t muster the courage to face them just yet. And Penelope needed her people. Needed to be around them, hear them, see them, feel them, know they were real and ok and uninjured. That they were all safe and home. And so tonight, though they were all exhausted, they were going out after work, going to the bar, going to drink shitty well drinks (not Tara or Rossi) and listen to music on a buzzing sound system. Play pool, play darts, inhale the stale smoke that permeated the plaster walls and booth leather decades ago, and know they had all survived and would continue to.

After a few drinks everyone split off into little groups around the space. Spencer was talking with Emily at the table, JJ and Matt were playing pool, Tara inserted herself into a conversation about the legitimacy of Shelby mod kits (not legitimate, obviously), and Rossi was at the bar keeping tabs on everyone around him.

“You wanna play?” Luke nodded to the vacant dartboard.

“Oh, no, i’m terrible.” Penelope laughed, “JJ, though she’s great, used to hustle guys out of money all the time.”

“JJ’s busy at the pool table. I thought those fingers were magic. Come on Garcia, show me what ya got. Maybe I can give you some pointers…” he grinned.

Luke stood up, leading a smiling, protesting Penelope by the hands to the game space. They were laughing and joking, Penelope fully enjoying herself. Luke showed her where to stand, and stood behind her, hand on hand guiding her movements but quickly found she must have been snowing him. Penelope Garcia was a ringer at darts. She shrugged all coy, “Maybe JJ rubbed off on me…”

Something about tonight, right now, felt different between them. She was opening up, being silly and playful, just the two of them. Maybe it was how awful this case had been that had pushed her towards him, maybe she was just finally accepting him. It was Luke’s turn and Penelope's arm slid around his back trying to tickle him, fingers coming to ribs as he raised his hand to throw.

“Penelope, STOP, you're cheating!” He laughed, resisting the convulsions his body wanted to make at her touch. Her face was pure joy watching his until she glanced past him, stilling.

“-Kevin” It was breathless, and quiet and filled with frustration and if she hadn’t been right next to him he was sure he wouldn't have heard it. But he did…just as his fingers let go and his arm had flown, his body jerked away from her instinctively because of the tickling, and well…

"AHHH!” Kevin Lynch was standing off to the side, dart plunged neatly into the soft, front round of his shoulder joint, staring in disbelief clutching at the top of his chest.

“Luke!” Penelope immediately reprimanded brows knit and mouth dropped open in a wide “O” She let go of his flannel, hands flying to her mouth.

“I didn’t- It was an accident!” He wasn’t really concerned with Kevin, it was superficial, he’d live. Dart tips were like, what? An inch? He was, however, concerned Penelope might start thinking this was intentional…

Penelope found her legs, scurrying over. “Kevin, what are you doing here?!” Her hand hovered back and forth over the injury, unsure of touching it. Tara grabbed a couple of napkins from a table near by and passed them off. Penelope plucked the dart out and replaced it with the napkins “Here, hold it, apply pressure. Hold it!” She shrilly commanded, letting go and stepping back. Her body language said everything, arms folded, high shoulders, hunching forward, foot turned out, and she was tapping. Luke looked to Rossi across the room, to JJ near by, and Emily talking with Spenser who gave a slight shake of her head “no”. Luke stepped back to JJ and Matt at the pool table.

“So what is this, he stalking her now?” he whispered.

“He couldn’t be so stupid. He has to know we’re here…” JJ answered back.

It was at that point Kevin’s pain turned to rage, “I’m gonna fucking kill him!” he lunged forward, snarling face pointed towards where Luke, JJ, and Matt stood, but he found he wasn’t moving. “AHHHH! he yelled again in pain, noticing the finely manicured hands of Tara and Rossi holding him back, Tara’s placed just so, directly over the wound digging in as he pushed away from them.

Penelope didn’t move, didn’t flinch, “Why are you here, Kevin?” she demanded again.

He glanced from her friends back to her, glaring at Luke “… I heard it was a bad case… I tried to catch you at work,” he looked down hissing in pain and jerked, shaking off the hands restraining him. “I wanted to check on you, to see if you…wanted some company. But they said you’d gone, so I don’t know. It was stupid, I just wanted to come see you, that’s all.” he finished, looking back up softly at Penelope, then coldly at Luke, “I know how these things affect you.”

“That’s nice, but you can see i’m with the team, i’m in good hands, and we’re all fine. You’re free to go, have a good night.” She turned away heading to JJ and Matt.

“Penelope, wait.” And there he was again not willing to listen, serving his own needs. She didn’t even bother to face him.

“Kevin, please leave. I want to be with my team tonight.” JJ and Matt wrapped her in a hug. Everyone else stood watching him, daring him to make a move beyond what she’d just requested. He didn’t and walked back out.

Leave it to Kevin Lynch to ruin the night.

FIVE

Luke remembered hearing Kevin whine to various co-workers about his girlfriend turning down his proposal before. He’d say her job was too stressful and he told her she should just quit and move out to the country, relax. Luke didn’t feel especially bad for the guy, something about Kevin always rubbed him the wrong way. Why would you be spreading gossip about your own girlfriend all over the building you both worked in if you supposedly loved her? The big thing Luke remembered though, why he really didn’t like Kevin, was Lynch puffed up around the office one day going on about how his girlfriend asked him not to talk to her boss about them, but he was "gonna show her how much of a man he was, he wasn’t scared of David Rossi” whoever that was...Why would you go against the explicit wishes of your girlfriend and jeopardize her position? Kevin was a dick. You don’t respect someone’s wishes, you don’t respect them. And now knowing Penelope was that girlfriend, he hated him. Knowing that he hurt Penelope, intentionally brought another woman to JJ’s wedding, knowing that he manipulated her and complained about her all over the office, how on and off they were, he wanted to wipe the floor with Kevin Lynch.

Since that night out, she really had been nicer, friendlier towards him. He would bring her coffee from Lunacorn most mornings, and she’d pretend to be surprised, small hand coming up to push at his chest, “For moi?”, or “Luke Alvez, stop making me like you!” grinning and walking away. He wanted to chase after her in those moments. They had turned a corner, and he loved every minute of it, he couldn’t get enough of her. Dancing with her at parties, standing next to her at Rossi’s cooking nights, hip bumping into his, her greetings becoming more flirtatious over the phone, but still just a little bit mean, a tart sweetness. She would never be completely nice to him and truthfully he liked it that way. He didn’t need someone to stroke his ego, he needed someone to keep him on his toes. He needed Penelope Garcia.

And so it was her he was thinking about on this very slow work day. Thankful for the chance to finally finish filling out his reports and get them turned in, but wishing for a technicolor-tech distraction. Prentiss had been very understanding about the paperwork, but the bureau was less so. They were breathing down her neck, so she had passed along the note. The paperwork was always the hardest part for him, recounting events, writing it all down, making sure nothing got left out, that everything was objective and nothing was bias, just the facts and their profile. It was very analytical, monotonous, and tedious work. And under the fluorescent lights it was awful. He sat up stretching, taking in the pile of to-do he’d gotten through and felt he earned himself a coffee break. Plus a walk around the office was good for you, kept your joints lubricated, blood flowing, your mind sharp, and it stopped his ass from going numb. And maybe, if he was lucky, he’d bump into his favorite display of hue. He knew where to find her, but he didn’t want to bother her if she was working on something. He made a lap around the bullpen, and then a lap around the catwalk, crossing near her office, door closed. His smile faltering the slightest bit. Emily’s head popped out of her office.

“Alvez, you need something?”

“Huh, uh, no. Just stretch break.” he pointed to the stack of files his desk, “Almost done. I’ll have um all for you by tonight.”

She gave a tight smile, “Ok” and disappeared again.

Deciding to get back on it, he walked to the break room to make a quick cup of coffee before diving back in. No Penelope distraction, it would seem. He was head deep in the cupboard looking for a clean mug when he felt a familiar soft hip check his.

“Tea, for me Newbie? You shouldn’t have...” she purred.

He closed the door, pulling out the last remaining clean mug and smiled wide, “In your dreams, Chica, there’s only one cup left.”

Penelope pouted, invading his personal space, “I thought you worshiped me”, her fingers closing around the cup.

His cheeks flushed, she was so close, so very close. “Even dutiful servants need their energy. Go get me one of the five I know are in that cave of wonders, and I’ll show you how devoted I am.”

She smirked, turning around, orange and vanilla smacking him in the face, “Come get it yourself.” and left him standing there. He looked from Penelope to his desk, he really did need to finish that stack of work before the day ended, couldn’t let feelings get in the way of work. He finished making the coffee and headed back to his desk, the light blue mug of daisy-cats mocking him and urging him to work faster from where it sat safely on the back of his desk.

He had two more reports left to do, small victories. Coffee drained from the cup, and unable to get her out of his mind, he got up, washed the mug, and brewed her favorite tea stashed in the back of the far drawer. It was only fair, she did a lot, she needed the boost too. Luke walked from the kitchenette, up the stairs across the cat walk and around the corner, head down ignoring the very pointed looks he could feel JJ, Matt, and Tara trading. He could do nice things for people. It didn’t mean anything.

"Kevin you can’t file a complaint. I won’t let you."

"He’s doing it on purpose!"

"No he isn't! What reason would he have? Luke is one of the sweetest people! He’s not some school yard bully!”

Luke stopped short, they were fighting. About him. Kevin wanted to file a complaint? Nice. So much for interoffice relations. Baby.

“Penelope, it’s not up to you, I came here out of courtesy, nothing more.”

“AND I TOLD YOU I won’t let you. I will delete it Kevin. Like it never even existed. I’ll write code that deletes it every time you file just to save me time if i have to. I don’t care.”

"Ooooh! Oh, I see.”

"What does that mean? What do you “see” ?!”

"That face. It was the same with Morgan! Some big, strong, handsome, fatheaded asshole walks in the door and you can’t help but fall all over yourself for them. He’s playing you! He’s using you.”

She was quite. He knew what that meant, there was either a furious Penelope on the other side or a broken one. He worried his lip, unsure what to do. How could he convince her it wasn’t true?

When she spoke again her voice was like steel. “You don’t talk about Derek. You are the only person here who ever thought I was being used.” Furious. Good.

Just because he was awful, didn’t mean everyone else was too. He was sick of this, tired of this guy showing up, tired of hearing him tear her down, hearing about how he belittled her, and tried to make her be less than she was. She deserved so much, so so much. Right now all he had was tea, but he could try for more. Luke took a deep breath, and moved forward, he knocked briefly and opened the door, not waiting for a response. He put on his brightest smile, because truthfully, he couldn’t not when she looked at him, and stepped into the room cup extended.

“Oh, great it’s you.” Was the first sound he was met with,"Get out, Alvez. Or have you come to spill that boiling bog water on me?” Luke kept his eyes on Penelope, but his smile flickered at the thought.

No, Lynch, I have something better in mind.

Luke ignored the man, speaking to her, voice low and soft, filling the space as only he could. "Hey, Garcia. Penelope…. I brought you that tea, but…” He glanced to the deep brown liquid and back to the same brown in her eyes, his head falling to the side, "I’d like to take you out. Can I take you to dinner?”

He could hear Kevin sputter as he watched Penelope’s eyes light up, rapidly nodding her head.

Fuck Kevin lynch, he hoped that hurt.

#garvez #criminal minds #luke alvez #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jj #spencer reid #matt simmons #tara lewis #david rossi #kevin lynch #4+1 fic #wump fic? #accidents happen #snails tales #ao3 #fan fiction #kevin lynch is repeatedly injured by luke alvez

[skylarmoon71]

Tadashi Hamada- Fanfiction (Big Hiro 6)

“Hamada!” 

Tadashi's head turned just as the book hit him smack dab in the center of his forehead. He fell back comically, and you laugh out loud. When he picked himself off the ground, he glared at you. 

“I forgot to say duck.” 

He threw back the book, and you caught it easily. Tadashi huffed. 

“I swear your reflexes are inhuman. “ 

“Or you’re just an old man.” You teased.

You round the table as he wheels his chair to his desk.  

“Did Baymax have an issue?” 

Tadashi shook his head.

“He works fine. I’m doing upgrades this month, so I’m making notes of some suggestions. “ He continues scribbling down on his paper. When he’s distracted, your eyes linger. You inhale, not enough for him to notice. 

“He smells really good.” 

You’ve known Tadashi for a little over a year. It felt much longer than that. The both of you had actually met on one of Hiro’s little stunts. More specifically, his participation in bot fighting. Ever since then you've been pretty good friends. You didn’t attend SFIT. You went to a more average university in the area. So whenever you had time, you would stop by. It was nice knowing a group of geniuses. It really paid off when exams rolled around. 

Speaking of exams. 

“Hey Tadashi, if you’re not too busy maybe you can help me study for Midterms this week.” He perks up. 

“You’ve got midterms, why didn’t you say so! We can get started now.” You can’t help but smile. This guy was really one of a kind. You knew he couldn’t help it. He’d played the role of parent so long that now it was almost automatic. 

“What should we start with first?” You ask, dropping your bag as you begin shuffling through. 

“What is the hardest class you have?” 

“Biology.” 

“Then that’s what we’ll start with.”

So you grab the book, getting a few pencils to begin taking notes. Tadashi is a pretty good teacher. You slide a chair next to him, dropping your books on the desk. You pull your phone out of your pocket, eyes running over the time displayed on your lock screen.

“Good, I have a few hours.” 

One less thing to worry about. 

You flip the pencil over your finger a couple times as Tadashi looks at your notes and makes his own suggestion. At times you’d tune in and out. For the most part you’d catch what he was saying. You can’t help but keep a steady track on your phone though. 

Tadashi takes notice. 

“Are you alright? You’ve been checking your phone pretty frequently.” You blink. 

“Uhh-yeah everything is fine.” 

Tadashi’s eyes move to your phone. 

“Is she waiting for a call from someone..” 

He keeps his face as unreadable as possible. 

“If you have other plans we can do this tomorrow.” 

“Stupid, that’s not what you wanted to say.” He scolds himself. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get rid of me Hamada. If you’re tired of me just say so.” You pout playfully, and he laughs. 

“No more than usual.” He nudges you with his elbow, and you smile. 

“I’m right where I need to be.” You clarify. 

His eyes train on you for a moment, and his smile matches yours. 

“Alright then, let’s get to it!” 

“Yes sir!!” 

The rest of the evening is about countless concepts and a few equations. For a moment you place your head on the desk. You just need a couple minutes of sleep, then you can head back to your dorm. 

That was the plan. 

“(Y/N), hey.” A soft voice lulls you awake. When you rub your eyes looking up, Tadashi is wearing a warm smile. 

“I’m about to start packing up. I really didn’t want to wake you. Especially since you looked so comfortable. “ 

You turn your head. The first thing you catch is the sun lowering in the sky from his window. The fading light makes you shoot up in your seat. 

“M-My phone!!” 

Tadashi is holding it.

“It's right here, is something wrong?” 

You looked panicked. 

“My alarm!! I set an alarm, why didn’t you wake me up!!” 

Tadashi is confused. 

“Y-You looked tired so I figured I’d just let you sleep.” 

You curse, and the second the light from the sun disappears, your knees buckle. Tadashi rushes to your side. You curl into a ball, breath staggered. 

His first instinct is to run to Baymax to figure out why you’re in so much pain all of a sudden. You forced yourself to your feet, and you only made it to his couch. You try to rush out, but your steps aren’t very coordinated. You end up falling over the back of his chair.

“(Y/N)!!” 

He runs to help you up, but instead of cries of pain, he now hears growling. It doesn’t sound human either. His steps slow.

“(Y/N)...” 

Something jumps over the couch, and he’s pushed to the ground. Staring back at him is a white wolf. Teeth bared, eyes glowing. Tadashi’s breath catches. His heart is racing, and for a split second he really thinks this animal is about to tear him to pieces. But it looks at him. Like it’s gathering its wits. All at once its entire gait changes. 

Those lifted ears fall back, and it almost whines. The eyes are no longer thin slits, but bigger gems. Those beautiful orbs glisten under the lighting of his lab, and the animal moves back. Tadashi is stunned. He’s not sure what to make of it. He could be hallucinating but he feels like he’s seen those eyes. He knows those eyes. 

“(Y/N)...” 

The wolf whimpers. 

Tadashi hardly believes what he’s seeing. He stands, cautiously, eyes drifting to the spot over his couch where your body once was. All he sees is a pile of ripped clothing. 

“It..really is you…” 

How is this possible?

You turn tail and try to rush for the door, but Tadashi gives chase. 

“W-Wait wait!!” 

You run head first into the door, but it doesn’t give in. 

“(Y/N) stop!!” 

You fall back unto the ground in defeat, and Tadashi’s eyes fall on your form. You’re curled in a ball, hiding from him. Now it made sense. Casting his memory back he realizes that he’s never seen you past a certain hour on particular days. He’d never thought much of it. 

You’re both college students. It’s not that strange. But that fear you’d shown when the sun went down. That must have been a trigger to whatever this is. You were different. It hurts him. Because it’s obvious that he was never meant to find out. He can’t hope to understand what having a secret like this must feel like. 

“(Y/N).” 

His call is so soft. He doesn’t want to make the wrong move or provoke you. You’re sitting in a corner. His steps are slow, and when he’s within reach, he swallows, reaching out slowly. His hand lands on the top of your head. He rubs it slowly, and he can see you physically relax. After a few moments, your head peeks out from under your paw. 

He’s not sure why, but the action is cute to him. 

“Can you understand me?” 

Your round orbs shift to the wall, then back at him, flicking your tail. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

He’s not sure what to ask first. 

“Can you turn back?” 

Your face buries back into your shoulder and he panics. 

“Okay okay I get it! No, go on the turning back.” You huff heavily through your nose. Tadashi just rubs his neck. 

“I guess I understand why you were so frantically looking at your phone. I’m sorry (Y/N). This wasn’t my secret to discover. “ 

Somehow he feels like he’s invaded your privacy. Your head raises slowly, and this time, you don’t look annoyed. You rise on your feet, and as you approach, Tadashi prepares for just about anything. You press your head to the side of his leg, and he can’t help but reach out. He pets you lightly, gaining an appreciative sound. Tadashi smiles. 

“This is incredible..” 

He would have liked to know beforehand that one of his best friends was apparently a wolf hybrid, but he guessed this is the second best thing. You keep moving back and forth, rubbing your head like a puppy starved of touch, and Tadashi willfully complies. Wolf or not, you were his friend. 

“We might have to spend the night here. “ Your movement stops at those words. You tilt your head. He can see from your eyes that you’re displeased. 

“Well I can’t exactly walk you out of here.” 

You bark at him. 

“I’ve got nothing, this is the best plan.” You turn your head at him. 

“I can’t believe this. Even as a wolf you're a pain.”

You whack him with your tail, and he laughs. 

“Better get comfortable.” 

He grabs a blanket from the couch with a grin. 

“When the morning comes, I’ll find something to hide you in. “ 

It would be much easier that way. With all the people bustling during the day. All he would need is a trolley to hide you under without suspicion. After that he could figure it out. 

He had to. 

~~~

The morning rolls around and Tadashi shifts on the air mattress he’d laid out on the floor. A body cuddled next to him isn’t surprising. He turns, hugging it closer. Realization seems to hit when he feels the warmth of skin rather than fur. He squints, running his hands along flesh. When his eyes open, the action seems simultaneous. 

You both take in your position and surroundings. You clutch the blanket to your naked chest with a squeak, and Tadashi falls back, right off the bed. He grunts, then jumps up immediately. 

“(Y-Y/N)!!” 

It would seem that this transformation only last the night. 

Your face was littered with color, and you were doing your best to cover as much as possible with the blanket. Tadashi spun around in the opposite direction.

“I-I’m sorry!! I didn’t know you changed back, I thought you were still..” 

“It’s o-okay!” 

You hide behind the couch, and Tadashi clears his throat. He moves to a small basket he has at the side of the room. Grabbing a  shirt and a pair of sweats, he turns it to your direction without looking back. 

“H-Here. I always keep some extra clothes here. You can use it.” You take it hurriedly from his hands, and Tadashi begins moving to the door. 

“I-I’ll give you a chance to change. “ 

He basically sprints out the door, closing it. All you can do is stare. 

You know now that your relationship has changed drastically.

#big hero 6 tadashi #trust #Hiro Hamada #secrets #wolves #love #family #gogo #Honey lemon #san fransokyo #life #university #inventions #tadashi x reader #friendship #feelings #spirits #care #fluff #brothers #cute

[whyareyouhere66]

Charlie Conway x Reader - Exile

Charlie Conway x Gender-Neutral Reader

Angst - I’ve been thinking of maybe doing a thing, where I write stories/one shots that are based off song lyrics. Not like a song fic, per say, but just one lyric from a song and basing a story off of it.

“I think I’ve seen this film before…and I didn’t like the ending”

[Taylor Swift ft Bon Iver, Exile. 2020]

Is it a bit unfair to name this fic after the entire song, even though the song isn’t necessarily in it? Sure, but I didn’t feel like writing out the lyrics that inspired this one. So yeah, enjoy.  warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, fighting, cursing. I think that’s all?

Reader is the guitar player in a band, and Charlie is y’know, a hockey player for the ducks.

Part 2

“Charlie, please just-“

“No y/n!! I don’t need you telling me what to do too!” Charlie says angrily, storming past you. The door slams loudly behind him, causing you to wince at the abrupt noise.

You let out a sigh. “Charlie…” you mutter, exhaustion clearly evident in your voice.

This was your 3rd or 4th fight, just in the past 2 weeks.

You heard his footsteps marching down the hall, quickly becoming distant as silence once again filled your room. “What am I doing wrong…?”

Salty tears began to stream down your face, any previous efforts to push them down failing. “Am I really that bad of partner? Why- why does this keep happening to me, I-“

You choked out a sob, hand going to cover your mouth instinctively as you sink into the mattress of the small, twin sized bed.

Tears fell and collected at the top of your hand, spilling over the side of your finger and continuing to fall until it landed on your lap.

Ugly noises erupted from your throat, rumbling through your chest. “Please, please tell me what I’m doing wrong…please..” you whisper, eyes squeezed shut.

You sat there for a couple of minutes, the worst part of your crying fit slowly calming down as your breathing slowed. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the familiar green fabric of Charlie’s favorite hoodie. He’d left it there a couple days ago, leaving it on your desk chair after a study date.

You reached out and grabbed the green material, pulling the hoodie over your head.

His smell lingered on the fabric, neither relieving or worsening the dreadful feeling in your stomach.

You curled into a ball, face hitting the pillow as you continued to cry.

You didn’t bother pulling the blankets over yourself, his hoodie warming you as you cried yourself to sleep, the same thoughts of stress and sadness swirling through your brain.

*****

The Eden-Hall cafeteria was bustling with students and teachers alike, all chatting loudly amongst themselves. At a table just to the left of the cafeteria, you sat with your group of friends- band mates, to be exact. With a ham and cheese sandwich in one hand and a pencil in the other, Cameron (the bass player) was scribbling down ideas for a new song. To the right of you was Amelia, the pianist. And to the left, was Asher. He was on drums.

“Alright- now I think we should add a guitar riff here- y/n, you got that?”

Cameron asks, looking up at you. You nod, making a mental note to work on a good riff after classes.

“Ooh-ooh wait I got an idea for a chorus-“

Jasmine said enthusiastically, stealing the pencil and paper from Cameron (despite his protests.) She was our lead singer, and a good one at that. Best singer I’ve ever met, that’s for sure.

While she scribbled something down in the notepad, I noticed the Ducks walking into the cafeteria. At the front of them all was Charlie, accompanied by Fulton and Kenny. The sweat from hockey practice caused his jersey to cling to his skin, and his hair to stick to his beet-red face messily.

‘Guess coach has really been over-working them recently, huh…’

You ignored the voices of your friends, instead deciding to get up and walk to where the hockey players were. “Charlie.” You say, the boy’s face turning to meet yours.

A few of the ducks glanced at you, but since you didn’t talk to them as much it didn’t go any further then nods and a few waves. “What do you want, y/n.” He says. ‘Harsh, alright…’

Ignoring the clearly harsh tone in his words, you ask; “can we talk, please?”

He shakes his head, turning away from you. “Cant, I gotta get lunch.”

“Please, it’ll just be quick-“ you pleaded with him, stepping closer to him so you could still be seen out of the side of his eye. “Coach has been extra strict on us recently, I have to eat.” He says sternly, clearly exhausted. You felt slightly guilty for dragging him away from the well-deserved food, but it’s been so long since you’ve had a real conversation and that needed to end.

“I’ll give you the rest of my lunch, c’mon Charlie, please?”

He hesitates for a moment, before accepting the offer. He lets you drag him out of the cafeteria, the remainder of your lunch in his hand.

“So what’s this about?” He asks, his mouth being stuffed with what was previously your sandwich. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally. You’d rehearsed what you were to say to him, and now you finally had the chance. “I wanna talk about us.” You say, and he pauses eating for a moment. Looking up at you suspiciously, he cautiously takes another bite of the food. “..what about us.”

‘Just like you practiced..’

“I know, things are really stressful right now. You’re working your ass off with hockey, I’ve got my band and stuff. It’s a lot. But it’s just..” you pause for a moment, taking another breathe, and turning to face the hotheaded boy.

Charlie makes an odd face, as if he had eaten something sour. “…what was that face?” You ask curiously. “This sandwich is disgusting.” He says, dramatically forcing himself to swallow it. You scoff. “Alright your highness well I don’t have any other food, so if you’d just listen to me-“

“I was promised food. I’m hungry, y/n at hockey practice-“  you groan. “Will you forget about that for just a second? I’m trying to talk to you about something important right now-“

“I can’t listen on an empty stomach.” He says, a hint of anger and annoyance underlying the heavy, sarcastic tone. You look at him, and exhausted, disbelieving look in your eyes. The look lingers there, even when you turn your head away from him for just a moment.

“We’re fighting about sandwiches now, I can’t get in a serious conversation in without a fight, and it’s about fucking sandwiches..” the mumbles are mildly incoherent, being rushed out of your throat as all the stress was beginning to go to your head.

Charlie looks at you, somewhat offended. “What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Oh my god!” The words come out mimicking those of a shout, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I mean all we ever do is fight anymore Charlie! I’m tired of it!” You say.

The look you gave him was almost pleadingly. He did nothing more then glare, knowing you were right. But his ego wouldn’t let him admit that.

“Things are a lot right now, yes, but that doesn’t mean we get to treat each other like shit.” He remains silent.

“I’ve been, in relationships like this before. Toxic, and they’ve never ended well for either party…” you say, trailing off at the end.

“…well then maybe it’s not me, who’s the problem..if this has happened to you so often.”

The words stung, and he could tell. Your hands shook slightly, and despite the overwhelming guilt that hit him after he said that, he didn’t correct himself. “I can’t..do this..anymore..” you say, it almost coming out as a whisper.

A newfound fear strikes Charlie, his head snapping up at you. “…what?”

For once in the past couple of weeks, Charlie looked at you with emotional eyes- just this time, it wasn’t anger.

“Look, Charlie…I want you to be happy, and I want me..to be happy.”

“And we can be-“

“Yes, just not right now. Too much happening, with your hockey and my band…”

The boy looked at you desperately, already knowing what was about to come. “I want you to be the right person…but, it’s just the wrong time.” You say, e/c eyes glossing over with tears. “No, no please y/n I can fix this-“ panic was evident in his voice, stepping closer to you in the fear of you walking away.

“You can’t fix everything, Char…you’re only human..I think you forget that, sometimes.”

With that, you turned and brushed right past him into the cafeteria. Tears threatening to spill. you did the best you could to push them down upon arriving at your friends table, ignoring the questioning looks they shot you. It didn’t work, of course, Amelia pulling you into her side comfortingly as tears spilled out of your eyes and down your s/c cheeks.

Still in the hallway, Charlie stood there stunned. He lost you, you walked away just like he’d been scared of. “Fuck…” he muttered, he too beginning to cry. The reality of the past few weeks had finally hit him, and it hit him hard.

“Charlie?”

He spun around startled, met with the brown eyes of his fellow friend and teammate, Connie. Once she saw the wet streaks on his face, a sympathetic look took over her features. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug to which, surprisingly, he returned. The motherly-like embrace only strengthened his tears, the salty taste slipping past his lips occasionally as Connie patiently waited it out.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, the words being incoherent and unheard by his friend.

“I’m sorry…”

should I make a part 2?

#charlie conway x reader #charlie conway #gender nuetral reader #angst #mighty ducks #the mighty ducks #charlie Conway angst

[frizzle-tales]

Holy shit.

The way the employees visibly stiffened; the chatter died down, some employees ducked behind their monitors, whereas others pretended to focus on the stack of papers on their desks… made Jiyeon realize that Taehyung wasn’t simply one of them.

He stood many steps above them on the corporate ladder, hovering over them as they scurried around for him.

Mugunghwa air… him? There was no way.

It must’ve been atleast ten years ago when she set foot on the plane to her first trip abroad, it had just been a couple of years that her grandparents gained custody of her when her grandparents had shared that they would be heading to Jeju Island to visit family.

Jiyeon had never flown before, and despite being excited about this new journey, she couldn’t help but feel frightened as well.

It looked awfully high.

Little Jiyeon was doing pretty well during it all, until it was time for take off and her fears gotten to her until she could no longer take it and she bursted into tears. Her grandmother’s comfort was enough to reduce the tears, but they fully stopped when a kind attendant had spotted the girl and offered a distraction.

Her empathetic voice, her eyes that filled with kindness and her warm smile made Jiyeon feel relaxed.

‘If only she was my mom.’ Little Jiyeon caught herself thinking as she looked up at the woman.

The photo still hang on one of the walls at her grandparents’ home; her toothed smile as she firmly held onto the small teddy with the airlines’ logo, while the kind attendant rested her hands on the young girl’s shoulders.

It came as a shock when, presumably, Taehyung’s father, had passed and the company had to halt its overseeing activities as they arranged a suiting family member to take over.

It seemed Taehyung was the one chosen to lead his father’s company.

That seemed like a big responsibility, one that Jiyeon was certain she wouldn’t be able to handle. Props to him, she thought.

Jiyeon’s gaze followed towards the direction of the clicking heels, and she spotted the woman approaching her.

Sohee felt oddly… intimidated by the sight of another woman by Taehyung’s side but she soon shrugged it off. She was nothing but a mere child either way, surely Taehyung would have no interest in such an inexperienced young thing.

Who was she? Jiyeon noticed how the woman’s cleavage showed just a tad too much in a professional setting, or the black pencil skirt that must’ve been about half a size too small, and most of all, she saw the way she couldn’t keep her eyes off Taehyung.

What was this about?

‘Of course, Mr. Kim. Right away, sir.’ Jiyeon found herself mocking in her head, picking up on the way the woman had to force her sound to sound so sickeningly sweet.

But it was how the secretary expressed visibly disgust towards Jiyeon, that she felt irritation crawl up.

Bitch.

Jiyeon’s eyes widened at her thoughts. Why was she being so mean to a woman that was just doing her job, and on top of that, when did she became so judgmental?

It must be because she has been so stressed lately.

Jiyeon followed Taehyung through the building and when they entered the office, she stayed put on the sofa, her hands resting on her lap as she waited for Taehyung to direct her to whatever else he wanted her to do.

But then a surprise guest came storming into the office; a new face and a name she hasn’t heard of before.

Daejung? No, she was pretty sure Taehyung hasn’t mentioned this name before.

Miss… Miss what? Jiyeon held out her hand while she thought of how to introduce herself— Taehyung seemed to have never mentioned her to him, so it was probably best to not introduce herself as Kim.

At Taehyung’s sharp warning, Jiyeon’s hand lowered, and she looked over to him, seeing that his gaze focused on his cousin, yet she wasn’t quite sure who the warning was aimed at.

“…No need to be formal.” Jiyeon turned back to look at Daejung, giving him a small smile. “You can call me Yeui.” She introduced - keeping her hands to herself - before she added a ‘nice to meet you’

“Oh, uhm, I don’t believe so, but perhaps, we might be running into each other again sometime…” Jiyeon dismissed. “The weather is lovely today, how are you planning on spending it today?” She redirected, not particularly caring about the answer but just nodding and smiling along as he spoke.

When Taehyung’s cousin left, Jiyeon had a look at the items Taehyung had brought her; none that particularly seemed interesting to her, but she decided to read the book he had gotten her, but her focus started to slip after a few pages.

Jiyeon’s eyes shifted from the book back to Taehyung as she could feel herself holding her breath, before she spoke up.

“Sir…?” She called out cautiously. “May I… look outside?” She already spotted the airplanes taking off in the sky; and she couldn’t help but want a closer view of the airport.

For her second question, she gathered some courage before she spoke up again. “Maybe… I could come to your work everyday…? I mean, that way, Namjoon could handle some important things and I wouldn’t need to inconvenience him… and I wouldn’t bother you, sir, I could just read, and stay quiet…” Jiyeon offered, avoiding eye contact as she fumbled with her dress.

— 🎙️

She was special.

Different than any other woman he had laid his eyes on through the past years.

She was meant for him.

And no one could tell him otherwise. Not anymore.

For a moment, Taehyung's eyes switched between his cousin and his little guest, astonishment painting his features before it dropped almost as soon as the expression came, a small grin tugging on his lips instead.

Jiyeon's honey brown orbs swirled with confusion, yet without another thought, her fingers curled back in, avoiding Daejung's hand like the plague.

Just like he told her to.

.. Somewhat.

And almost as if she had years of practice, the girl humoured his obnoxious family member. A silent chuckle escaped from the killer as he listened along; hearing how effortlessly she soothed his cousin's intrusive curiosity, redirecting him like a mother would to a small child.

As he could've guessed, it didn't take Daejung long to lose interest in the mundane small talk the girl kept on. With an attention span like a goldfish, he soon excused himself.

Pain in the ass.

Taehyung crossed the small office, not thinking twice before locking the door behind the slightly older male. Then, he circled around the couches to a small kitchenette type area between his bookshelves, where he poured himself a cup of coffee before popping open the minifridge, pulling out a bottle of water.

"Taehyung." The man corrected her as he set the bottle of water down on the table in front of her before making his way back to his own desk. "I think it's about time you start using my name, don’t you think, Jiyeonnie?"

To his surprise, Taehyung found himself growing tired of the formalities. Always keeping a distance between them. No, he needed to hear her say his name more.

If she didn't, he very well could have a psychotic break.

As Taehyung sat down, the leather squeaking beneath his weight, his head nodded, remembering her previous request. It wasn't like there was any harm. The reflective glass would stop anyone from seeing her, but considering how well she was behaving, would it even be something he'd have to worry about if it didn’t?

The man's eyes followed the girl's frame as she walked towards the floor to ceiling windows behind his desk. His eyes traveled up, lingering on her adorable expression for a moment, before trailing back down.

"Hm?" He hummed before a chuckle erupted in his chest, another grin growing on his lips. "It's Taehyung." He corrected again, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah? And you'd be a really good girl too, I bet, hm? You wouldn’t make a mess, not a peep either?" He taunted how the young girl was trying her best to persuade him. "Show me how good of a girl you can be first and I’ll think about it. I don’t reward people for nothing, sweetheart.”

Maybe he was intentionally being a little misleading. It wasn’t exactly possibly for her to come with him every day. But if it meant she’d try her best to please him, to butter him up, he’d let her believe whatever she needed to.

The early morning soon came and went.

Phone calls and paperwork occupied most, if not all, of Taehyung's time and attention. Until 11:45 rolled around on the clock.

"Sweetheart." Taehyung called to earn her attention. When he saw her look up, his fingers beckoned her over. And when she came close enough, he pulled her to sit on his lap. "Tell me something.." he started, trailing off as his fingers came up under her chin, tilting her head all the way back with a push. Then, he leaned in, pressing a single, tender kiss to the base of her throat. "Where did you use to go for lunch?"

#🎙anon #serial killer!taehyung #yandere taehyung

[jeoseungsaja]

"Word of advice, boss!! Take a break or even a nap because if i see you in here in the next three hours, I'll fold all of your paperwork into frogs and it will take you fifteen minutes to unfold them. Each." ( from suki to hyuk in verse two 🥲 - you sure you wanna test her, hyuk JFKLSJDLFKJ )

@kamipyre ♚ from x.

♔ ———–

   Here it goes again. They won’t give up, will they? Suki and Jae-Hwan. It doesn’t matter how many times he attempts to block them with his bitter mouth and disgruntled teeth, these two keep coming his way like unafraid birds sitting on the arms of the saddest and ugliest scarecrow. Inspector Im with their bright smile that almost looks odd in comparison to the office’s gloom; with plastic bags full of food and the need to replace folders tucked in Hyuk’s hands for chopsticks. And then there’s her, Forensic Scientist Nakamura, intrepidity dressed in pink; with hands that could turn all of these written, overwhelming stories in a parade of figurines and an attitude which could be translated into pure dynamite if allowed. Her way of caring is a tad bit harsher than Jae-Hwan’s. 

   She doesn’t ask --- she knows asking nicely won’t work in this case.    She doesn’t have time for nonsense.     She sets rules and lists the consequences of not abiding to said rules.     The biggest consequence of them all being her origami skills used as a weapon. 

    He remembers something like this. Vaguely. His mind sometimes struggles, as if fragmented due to being rammed into a pool of distress more than a few times. But he remembers, back when he worked in the LAPD and he met her, Suki Nakamura, a clever investigator who decided to leave the States to bring her talent to this dingy office that Hyuk can barely cover with his savings. He remembers that she also said things like these, similar things...and he preferred to abide to them than having paper animals scattered all over his desk. 

   But right now, you could drown him in paper frogs, pigeons, ducks...and he’d refuse to move from his seat until finding what he’s looking for. Can’t she see that this is important? No, no...he hasn’t told anyone. He hasn’t expressed why it’s so important to go back to the files that have any information concerning Patrick’s watch. He hasn’t confessed that he saw a very similar one falling from the Black Knight’s pocket. 

    He hasn’t said anything about the map, either.      The one resting in one of his hands; a pencil on the other.      He’s been circling and drawing dots around certain zones.      Zones within Itaewon. 

  “I asked about the possible effects of fire on a watch or similar items, not advice, Nakamura.”

    His edges have turned harder; his demeanor tense and exhausted. She’s more than observant, of course. And it’s noticeable, isn’t it? The bags under his eyes; the rigid lines etched onto his face. She’s right, very right: the detective does need a break; does need to rest. He’s been needing a breather for years...but it’s not something he allows himself to have, less when he knows he has things to do. 

    Lee Hyuk always has things to do.      The truth requires a full-time position. 

     It also seems everyone keeps giving him advice he deems unnecessary.      Suki. Jae-Hwan. The Black Knight.

   “I already slept last night.” 

    And by sleeping last night, he means the 10-ish minutes where he fell asleep without knowing, right on his desk. What woke him up was the sound of something scratching the floor. He’s not sure if he imagined it, because nothing was there when he woke up. Then again, the slightest of sounds tend to stir him, so who knows. Maybe it was his own shoe. 

   “I’ll be here for as long as it takes. Origami Zoo or not---” 

    Or.      Hyuk looks back at the map, traces a line there.      From the office’s location to a place within Itaewon.      Maybe he should start there.      At least, he vaguely remembers being there that day.      He just hopes his mind isn’t betraying him.     What’s real and what isn’t anymore?

    He stands up from his seat, folds and tucks the map within the pocket inside his jacket. Hyuk turns to look at Suki. 

    “Fine. I’ll take a break. Just because I remembered how much I hate unfolding those things.”

     A lie, a faux statement that he distracts by using his index finger to point at a sparkly headband sitting on his desk. He took it out of his hair this morning (he won’t admit it helped by taking away strands of hair that sometimes block his vision). 

    “I told you to stop tying my hair with that.”

    Hand drops to his side and he starts moving, toward the door.     Toward some exploration around Itaewon. 

    “I’ll...return later.” 

———– ♔    

#kamipyre #♔ || interaction (suki). #♔ || how can they say paper wings are feeble when yours are the strongest i've ever seen (nakamura). #I have to think about a tag for Suki in this arc IUHWIDUHWED STAY TUNED--- #in the meantime I'll put the one I use for arc one :D #Not Hyuk lying to Suki pLEASE-- #also not Hyuk on his way to try to snoop around or scout the area to see if he finds something familiar--- #I won't blame Suki if she suspects something is going on considering how stubborn Hyuk is IWUHEDIUWHD #and Suki cannot be easily fooled 😤 #wouldn't blame her either if she ends up folding everything around her and leaving it on his desk as present when he returns LMAO WIEDHWUDH- #WHEN WILL HE EVER LEARN--- #BUT FERRE!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING THIS IN :D #I HOPE IT'S OKAY THAT I SORT OF?? CONNECTED THIS ASK WITH THE OTHER ONE?? Of the Black Knight accidentally dropping the pocket watch IWHEDIW #I ALSO HOPE THAT IT'S OKAY THAT I INCLUDED SOME DETAILS that we've discussed here and there ;W; #AND THAT IT'S NOT TOO?? FORWARD OR ANYTHING that Hyuk is trying to look around #I'm sure he won't be successful the first times because he doesn't remember the area well due to what happened IUWHEIDUWHED #BUT PLS IF SOMETHING DOESN'T SIT RIGHT OR IF YOU NEED ME TO CHANGE SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY LET ME KNOW AND I'LL CHANGE IT UwU!!! #HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY <3!!!!!!!! #♔ || queue.

[lilicy-secrets]

Don’t Panic! Brendon meets you! Chapter 1

I entered the seemingly abandoned coffee shop.  It appeared quaint and cozy as I looked at the dim lighting hitting a red fluffy couch with two matching arm chairs in front of a table littered with magazines.  There were window seats with a few throw pillows, several regular tables with about three chairs per table, and even a couple of booths.

Inhaling threw my nose, the smell of fresh brewed coffee hit me.  I pulled out an ear bud that was blaring "Ballad of Mona Lisa" by Panic! At The Disco.  I timidly walked up to the counter where a woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun, showing her heart warming smile, bright hazel eyes filled with kindness, and the wrinkles of a long life. She just carried the aura of a sweet, caring grandmother. "What can I get you, Miss?"

I looked up at the menu through my (h/l), (h/c) bangs, keeping my head slightly hung, "May I have a vanilla frap with extra cream?"  I asked loud enough for her to hear.

"Sure thing, Sweet heart."  I moved to a booth at the back of the café, and set my bag on the table.  Suddenly, the woman appeared at the table holding a cup to me.

"Thank you," I said taking the cup never meeting her eyes.  At that moment the bell to the door rang.

"Hey, Marg, how are you today," a strangely familiar voice said.  'Shit, I didn't think the kids at school would come this far away from the high dollar shops.'  Trying to become invisible, I slid closer to the wall and started rolling into a ball.

"Brendon, I'm doing well, how are you?"  'Brendon... Brendon...."

"Eh, well, Sarah called off the wedding, but I think it's for the better.  We haven't been ourselves since I proposed."

"Brendon Urie!"  I exclaimed finally realizing why the voice was familiar along with the name.  Suddenly I felt all eyes on me, and I slowly realized what I had done.  I quickly covered my mouth,  ducked my burning red face down, and shoved my ear buds back into my ears.  I quietly hummed "But It's Better If I Do," by the said male's band.  I started trying to make myself busy by grabbing out my school books and attempted to appear busy doing homework.  I had reached for my cup as I looked at the first math problem and couldn't feel it.  I looked over to where I had set it to see it floating a foot above the spot.  A hand was holding it just out of my reach.  Removing my ear buds, yet again, I spoke in a soft tone, "I-I-I'm s-sorry for eavesdropping and for my sudden outburst."  I didn't look up to face him too ashamed, and because today's bullies were particularly cruel to my face this afternoon.

"My eyes are up here," he said jokingly as he raised his hand trying to lead me to look up.

"May I please have my coffee back?  I can leave if that's what you want," I really didn't want to be teased by the man I adored due to his music.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked concerned and taking a seat across the table.  I could now see his wonderfully pale skin, deep melted chocolate eyes, black hair gelled back, and his kissable lips through the curtain my (h/l), (h/c), (h/s hair style) hair created.

"Um... yes, I'm what people would call... strange," that was putting it into sweet words.  "This is just how I act.  Sorry, for causing you to worry for a moment."

"Why do you keep apologizing, you can't tell me that's part of your personality."  His voice held annoyance.

"Uh, yeah, I-it kind of is, sorry," I remarked wanting to kill myself on the spot for having to act like a freak when I finally get to meet my celebrity crush.  I decided to forget about getting my deliciously cold, heavenly vanilla tasting coffee.  I looked back at the math problem.  I moved to put my ear buds back in when a hand stopped my movements.  I flinched by instinct.  'Fuck, now he knows something is wrong.'  I moved my hand away from his soft, warm one and placed it back on the table fiddling with my pencil.

"So, are you really just not going to talk now while trying to pretend that this isn't an act," he asked with some confidence that he had been right.

I let out a soft sigh before looking up for the first time since the beating.  My hair moved away from my (s/c) face revealing my black, swollen right eye along with the (e/c) iris of my left.  The bloody tissue in my nose, my (l/c lip color) lips swollen and cut, and a nice bruise on my left cheek.  "I'm used to the treatment, so I've grown to just live with it," I said trying my best to keep eye contact with him.  Also, I didn't feel like crying, or begin the whole, 'self-loathing' speech I had in my head, and I definitely didn't want pity to come from him because I want to seem like the exact opposite of who I act like now.

"Wow," his hand slowly came to caress my cheek and gently cupping it to examine my wounds closer.  "I bet the other girl looks ten times worse than you," he said smiling.

I let out a gentle giggle at the thought of me actually being able to take on five queen bees at once.  "Sadly, no, but they'll get what they deserve one of these days, " I said cringing at the pain that the giggle had caused in my abdomen and face.

"Oh, I believe this is your's," he slowly slid my prize for being brave towards me.  I snatched it up and took a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.

"This is my coffee, so you can no longer take it from me.  Without it, I could go into a coma or worse die of coffee depletion."  The tone in my voice was a mock stern anger, and he laughed.

"I'm sorry, Miss..."

"(y/l/n), (y/f/n) (y/l/n) is my name."

"That's a unique, beautiful name.  Now, as I was saying, I'm sorry, Miss (y/l/n).  I would hate to be the one that caused you to go to the hospital, or worse," he said in a mock British voice and giving a shiver.

I burst out laughing, "ow, don't make me do that!"

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to."

I smiled slightly and looked back down at the table.  "Ugh!  Not even coffee is enough of a bribe to get me to finish this," I said tossing my pencil into my math book.

"It can't be that hard," Brendon said reaching for the book before looking back at me.  "What the hell, that isn't math, that's a foreign language."

I smirked, "if it was a foreign language, it would be solvable."

"Well, it seems that would be true, truer than the shy, timid, weak girl act you were trying to play off just now."  He sounded as if he found the treasure he had lost three years before.

"Well, kind Sir, I hate to play the role of Captain Obvious, but you really don't know me.  This being the case, anything I do or say could just be an act," I said taking a sip of my drink before looking back at the problem once again.  "Ha, maybe you're right about it being a foreign language because I just solved it," I said scribbling out the work and answer before moving on to the next one.

"How the hell did you mange that?"

"I can be an amazing girl, sometimes."  I was now on the third question.

"It would appear so," he said growing quiet.

'I guess I bored him.  Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.'  I focused on the remaining questions, and finished in ten minutes.  I put up my books and looked up to see he was there watching me.  "I know that my face causes some concern, but I'd rather not be the new attraction for the circus freak show," I said feeling my face flush and my mind running through all the horrible thoughts that could possibly coursing behind those amazing eyes at this moment.  I felt a twinge of sadness as each got worse.

"Sorry, I was just thinking how cute you are even with all the bruises and cuts, and I'm trying to picture how beautiful you are with your face healed.  Oh, I'm also questioning how the fuck you managed to get all those problems solved."

"Maybe I'm a robot with realistic flesh covering my metal shell, but then you'd say that robots can't bruise or bleed.  The answer is simple, an artificial circulatory system."

"Wow, well, now I'm really wondering if you are human or an A.I."

"Human, with a mechanical brain is probably the best bet," I looked at the clock above his head on the wall.  "Shit, hey, Brendon, I hate to say this, but I have to get going.  I have to get home," I said dreading the thought of not only leaving his side and the possibility of never meeting again, but also what I would be leaving him for.

"Oh, okay, well, it was nice meeting you, (y/f/n)," he said standing while gesturing to hug him.  I gladly accepted it before taking off out the door.

                                ~Time skip brought to you by Brendon's tattoo artist~

I got home before my parents, and got to work on the house cleaning praying that their drug dealer would be late or that they were to out of it to make it back for the next hour.  Apparently, my luck had run out when I got to have a conversation with Brendon because they walked in ten minutes after I had.

"Worthless Bitch, why the fuck is this damn house still a mess," my mother's angry shrill voice yelled.

"I told you to abort that thing when you found out it was inside of you.  You stupid cunt answer your fucking mother before we come to get your ass ourselves."

I ran to them with dish soap on my arms.  "I'm sorry my professor held me back to discuss my slightly slipping grades.  We talked about how I just needed to study a little harder."

"Do you think we're fuck idiots?  Honestly, you dumb ass whore, who the hell found you attractive enough to fuck you while we were out working our asses off."  I felt the kick and fell to the ground.  Mom poured the rest of her beer over me before walking away just to chunk the bottle at me.

"Go to your fucking room!"

I ran up the stairs and into the drafty attic.  I climbed onto the air mattress and went to the opposite side to find my blade.  Just as I was about to press it against my wrist, I heard my phone buzzing.  "What the hell," I said through tears.  I looked at the unknown number before answering.

"Hello, is this (y/f/n) (y/l/n)?"

I recognized the voice and took a deep, quiet breath to calm myself.  "Y-ye-yes," I stuttered through hiccups.  'Way to go now he's going to think you are a completely useless, depressing, suicidal, dumb ass that he doesn't need to waste his time with.'

"(y/f/n), why the hell are you crying?  Where are you?  Do you need help?  Did you get attacked?"  He began to ramble worse and worse scenarios.

"I'm crying because my parents are mad at me.  I'm at home.  I want help, but I don't think it's necessary.  I'm a little bit more beaten up then when you saw me, but all wounds heal over time."  I had no idea why I didn't evade the last question like I normally would.

"It's okay parents get upset when they think something could have happened to their kid, I would be beyond upset if I were your dad.  I mean, if anything happened to my perfect little girl."

"If only he thought like you did," I mumbled almost completely silent.

"What was that, (y/f/n)?"

"I wish I had thought like that."

"Oh, okay... next, thankfully you made it home, but, if you want help I think you should talk to your parents first.  I don't want to barge into the picture and get you in worse trouble.  Lastly, who the hell managed to get a hold of you before reaching your house?"

"I can't ask my parents for help... look, Brendon, before you decide that I'm too weak, timid, useless for you to waste your time with, I figure I should tell you the whole truth.  I'm not just beaten up by one girl at school, there is always at least five, and it's not only at school that I get attacked."  I let a heavy hearted sigh escape my lips.

"Wait... are you trying to say that your parents also abuse you."

"To put it bluntly, give me a sec I hear them coming up," I tossed my phone under my thin blanket.

"You stupid Bitch, have you decided to tell us the truth about who the hell was in our house and how long you two were together."

"Mom, I swear, I wasn't home until ten minutes before you walked through the door.  I wouldn't embarrass you like that."

"Yeah fucking right, don't lie to your mother's face," I saw my dad's hand clutching a beer bottle so tight his knuckles were white.

"Daddy, please stop.  I swear no one has stepped foot I-Ah!"  The glass bottle met my wrist as I tried protecting my head.  He swung again and the glass shattered against my chest.  Then my mom's hands wrapped around my neck.  It didn't take long for me to go unconscious.  'Brendon, I'm sorry for being so weak,' I thought before the engulfing black hole sucked me in.

#brendon urie #panic at the disco #x reader

[xprojectrpg]

Moment of Awesome - Alison Blaire/Dazzler:

During the Baltimore crab attack, Dazzler and Cyclops get creative.

The crabs had tactics.

Alison did not know how, and did not know why, but she did know one thing for certain: She hated it. So. So much. It was the worst.

"I hate this."

And then a crab flew over her head, crashing into a nearby building.

Shards of concrete and shell peppered Scott's face, leaving him reeling for a moment as he took a step back, a hand instinctively lifting to cover his face before red blasts of energy scythed through the air, clearing the debris raining down on their position as the X-man turned back to the crabs, jumping back immediately to avoid a pointed foot from piercing through him before he was forced to duck and twist away to slide under a pair of pincers. No matter what he did they seemed to be there to keep him from finding his footing long enough to attack. Being stuck on the defensive was not his preferred combat style, not at all. "Can you do something to buy me a few seconds to try something new? Otherwise they're just gonna keep wearing us down."

Despite the utterly poor timing of it, Alison couldn't help but cock an eyebrow involuntarily. "Uh... maybe?" She was already running a pretty high tempo; pushing it harder would start to be dangerously exhausting. The faster the moves, the harder to keep your feet and all that.

Still, it wasn't like she had a better idea at this point. The crabs had shown themselves to be remarkably adept blind-fighters, and their armored exo-whatevers they had were annoying laser resistant. For anything else she was going to have to get... creative.

The song playing on her phone kicked up-tempo, and her body moved to match with barely a twinge of protest. I've got... maybe three minutes like this, she realized, and got started, shifting from the big sweeping punchy lasers from her palms to a more sharpshooter style, using a hand cocked like a gun to fire pencil-thin lasers out of one finger.

Maybe if she could hit a joint or two she'd start to turn some of this around.

It was like watching a fireworks show, lasers filling the air around the girl as Scott was forced to take a step back, one arm coming up to shade his gaze as he took a deep breath. Holding it for a moment before letting it flow out of his lungs as he let his gaze shift forward, narrowing as dark eyes flicked around.

A small smile curled up the corner's of Scott's mouth as a barrage of red blasts sallied forth, weaving through the lightshow that Alison was putting on. Where better to hide an attack than in plain sight. The crabs had shown they could work together, but he'd been doing this for longer. Force blasts tore through walls and roofs, starting a cascade that dropped an avalanche of debris onto the crabs. Those that were fast enough to avoid the rain found themselves trapped in a maze, a firing lane as he inclined his head to Allison. "Care to play?"

"Ooh," Alison said, seeing exactly where this was going. "I do like the way you think. Ladies first?"

The X-man bowed, taking a step back as his arms came up to gesture towards the trapped crabs with a grin. "I wouldn't dream of being anything other than chivalrous. Ladies first by all means."

Alison quirked a lip. "I was referring to you, actually." She stuck out a tongue, obviously teasing in good faith. "Still," both of her hands began to glow a faint shade of lightning. "It would be rude to say no now."

#moment of awesome #dazzler #cyclops #plot #plots #xprpg #xproject #phase 2

[yoon-kooks]

how many | jjk | 2

Pairing: Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, BadBoy!AU

Summary: To Jeon Jungkook, you’re just the cutie who sits across from him in art class. He doesn’t have a clue that you’re also the hidden face of his favorite tattoo artist on social media. When the bad boy notices you’ve taken a surprising interest in his ink, he dares you to explore every inch of his body until all of his tattoos are accounted for. Tempted by his irresistible smile and delicate touch, you might even let him in on your little secret.

Word Count: 4k

Parts: 0 ◆ 1 ◆ 2 ◆ 3 ◆ 4 ◆ 5 ◆ 6

A/N: no smut yet but things are getting a little physical;;; im 90% sure there will be smut in the next part so hang in there yall!

◆ the one you found by the duck pond ◆

As much as you love your job, there are times when it becomes rather unpleasant. In most cases, it’s just a Karen client being unreasonable or someone urging you to hurry up because they can’t handle the pain. Those situations might be annoying, but they aren’t bad enough to ruin your mood once you’ve stepped foot outside of your parlor.

It takes a lot for you to be genuinely bothered or hurt by someone else, but that’s exactly what happened to you during your last appointment of the day. After all, it feels pretty shitty when a fellow tattoo artist you admire turns out to be a condescending asshole who calls your art “decent for a pretty face.”

You absolutely hate when people think they can judge you and make assumptions based on your appearance—especially when those assumptions involve your art. That asshole might never figure it out, but your pretty face has nothing to do with what you’ve accomplished with your art.

And unfortunately for you, that asshole’s comment still lingers in your head as you walk into class the next morning. Part of you worries that other artists might share the same sentiment and not take you or your art seriously. That’s probably why you’ve avoided making friends with anyone in your art class aside from Jeon Jungkook.

In fact, the thought of seeing Jungkook is the only thing keeping you from screaming your frustrations into the void this early in the morning. He’s one of the few people you feel like you can trust and be your quirky self around, and you find comfort in knowing it’s just been you and him making art across from each other for the past few weeks.

So it comes as a surprise to you when you walk into the classroom and see more than just Jungkook gathered around your table. Four other classmates somehow migrated from their original table on the other side of the classroom, and now they’re chatting away with Jungkook as if they’ve all known each other since grade school. Meanwhile, you don’t even know any of their names aside from Kim Taehyung, a popular face on campus who fully embraces the influencer life.

Taehyung and the others are too engaged in their conversation about skincare sponsorships to notice you slipping into your seat. As discreet as you are, Jungkook politely backs out from the lively conversation and watches as you pull your essentials out of your bag one by one—your sketchbook, your pencils, and an empty coffee mug that you swore you filled before leaving the apartment.

As soon as you hear the hollow clunk against the desk, you shove your mug back into your bag with an internal sigh. It’s fine. You don’t really need caffeine in your system anyway. But it would’ve cheered you up just a little.

Jungkook takes a sip of his own coffee before sliding it into your hands. It’s still warm and full, and you bet the boy has excellent taste in caffeinated beverages. The tiny sip you take is just right—not too sweet, not too bitter. And if the name written on the cup wasn’t “Kook,” you probably would’ve downed the whole thing in one go. Instead, you slide it back to the boy across from you.

“Have the rest,” he says, blocking you from pushing the cup any closer to his side of the desk. “Didn’t you say you like lattes?”

“Yeah, but—”

You’re interrupted by a phone screen sliding right between you and Jungkook. It has a picture of a fresh-faced Taehyung holding up a bottle of micellar water with “#ad” as the caption.

“Hey, let’s exchange IGs,” says the influencer. You assume he’s talking to Jungkook specifically, but then he turns to you. “What’s your handle?”

“@Y/NsArtCorner… But I don’t really post much.” You pull out your phone and give Taehyung a follow, just to show that you’re a good sport about this whole social media thing. He has about as big of a following as Jungkook. The only difference is that Taehyung shamelessly asks for follows from anyone he meets.

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says as he follows you back and scrolls through the few posts that you have. “Your art is stunning, by the way.”

“Thanks.” You don’t really know what else to say to him so you take some more sips of Jungkook’s latte.

Taehyung’s eyes trace the details and precision in your artwork. “Have you ever considered doing those Youtube videos where they speed draw real-life objects as if they’re sitting on the page? I feel like you’d get a lot of views.”

You shake your head. Again, you don’t have anything else to add aside from answering the question.

“Wait, I mentioned those same exact videos when I first saw Y/N’s art,” Jungkook says, high-fiving the other boy. He really makes social interactions look easy, and it’s a small reminder that your friendly interactions with him might not be as special as you’d like to believe. A guy like him could make anyone feel like a close friend of his. Perhaps you’re not the only person he’s shared his latte with or designed a bunny tattoo for.

But that’s the charm you’ve fallen for.

The rest of art class goes by slower than usual. You and Jungkook exchange few words with the other folks around, but you notice he stops to stare every once in a while as you fill your page with art. And when you catch him in the act, he casually gets back to work with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

After class, Jungkook waits as you zip up your bag, but so does Taehyung along with his other friends at your table.

“Hey, we’re grabbing some food at that new ramen place across from campus if you two wanna join,” Taehyung offers. As good as ramen sounds, you don’t think you can endure another hour of two-word conversations between you and that friend group. You don’t dislike them or anything, but it’s hard for you to feel like you belong with them the way Jungkook does so naturally.

“No thanks, we already have plans,” Jungkook says as he turns to you. You quickly nod in agreement with the boy’s little fib.

As soon as Taehyung’s group has exited the room, you sling your bag over your shoulder and say, “We have plans?”

“That depends.” Jungkook starts walking out the door, and you follow like a lost duckling. “Are you free?”

“Well, I do have a tattoo appointment later tonight,” you say, double-checking your phone to make sure you have at least a few hours of free time before then. Thankfully you do, because you still aren’t ready to go back to the place where certain clients fail to respect the art you create. “But I’m free until then.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s the design like?” Jungkook raises his eyebrow, not entirely buying your story. In his defense, you make it sound as though you’re the one getting the tattoo rather than doing the inking.

“It’s a lizard.” The actual design is a small alligator, but close enough. “Kind of dark and spooky, like if a lizard met a vampire.”

Jungkook looks up into space with a puzzled expression. “I’m trying to visualize it, but all I’m seeing is a crocodile,” he laughs.

“Yeah, but lizards are tinier and cuter.” You put your hands on your hips as if the two of you are having a heated debate over reptiles.

“I’m glad to see you’re back to being your weirdo self.” Jungkook gives you a flirty nudge with his elbow before holding his hand out for you to take. Usually, you’d hesitate and wonder if you’re misinterpreting a boy’s attempt at an affectionate gesture until he awkwardly pulls away. But it’s different with Jungkook.

Gravity doesn’t waste a second in pulling your hand to his until your fingers are interlaced. Physical contact might not be a new thing between you and him, but that doesn’t mean his warm touch ever gets old. In fact, it only makes you want it more.

“You were so quiet earlier. Was it because of Taehyung and the others?” he asks, pulling you along to who knows where. You figured Jungkook had noticed something was off about you during class, but you didn’t really expect him to bring it up.

“Um, yeah. I’m not really good with talking in group settings. Especially with people I’m not close to,” you explain. You wouldn’t blame Jungkook if he couldn’t understand where you’re coming from. “It’s kinda just a me-thing.”

He nods. “You must be pretty close to me if you’re getting all sassy about lizards.” It’s true. You could never see yourself going on about cute little lizards to just anybody—not your other classmates, clients, or even family. He gives your hand a squeeze and says, “I’m honored that other people don’t get to see the Y/N that I get to see.”

He’s earned it, though. You only act the way you do around him because he makes you feel right at home, wherever you are with him. He’s become your #1 source of comfort and the perfect remedy to a bad morning, and you just want to make him smile the way he does so easily for you.

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to save all the weird stuff for when it’s just you and me.” You grin from ear to ear as the two of you exit the art building. Jungkook pulls you down the same path you’d normally take if you were headed home on your own. Funny how the same road can lead to so many different possibilities when you’ve got someone else by your side. “So where are we going exactly?” you ask.

“Somewhere I think you’ll like.” His voice is almost a whisper, as if he doesn’t want you to hear it in the event that you don’t actually like the place he specifically chose with you in mind.

“Oh? You know what I like?” You search his eyes for answers, or at least a hint. That’s a mistake on your end, of course, because all you’re doing is getting yourself lost in that dangerously beautiful smile of his.

“Well, you like art, you like stealing lattes, you apparently like tiny lizards, and you might even like a handsome guy named Jeon Jungkook.” His eyes shift to the pavement when he says that last bit, but he forgets to hide his grin. He might be the only boy in the world who can make arrogance look adorable.

“Never heard of him,” you shrug. Teasing Jungkook has become a new favorite hobby of yours, but it’s hard to deny your fondness for him when you continue to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing to do.

He’s got a hold on you, just like you have on him.

After walking down a lot of familiar roads decorated in street art, Jungkook leads you around a corner to your favorite duck pond just a few blocks from your apartment. Between the calm waters, the rustling of the cattails, and the occasional quack, this pond is the perfect place to escape to when you start to get sick of seeing the walls in your room. You’ve lost track of how many @snowsleeve originals were designed right in this very spot.

Jungkook was right. This is a place that you like a lot.

“I was in the area a few days ago for a touch-up, and I didn’t expect such a calm and quiet place to be hiding right behind the bold and bright art district.” Jungkook points at the trail of ducklings following their mother at the center of the pond. You can’t resist the urge to ooh and ahh at the sight of any baby animal. “Is it weird that I spent that whole afternoon staring at the ducks swimming around?”

“A little bit,” you chuckle, even though that’s exactly what the two of you are currently doing. “But I’m guilty of doing that before too.”

“Shit, you’ve been here before?” The boy sounds disappointed. Perhaps he’s wondering if another guy had already shown this secluded place to you—if you stood in this same exact spot and held hands with someone that wasn’t him.

“You know I live really close to here, right?” you say, pointing in the general direction of your home and referencing the fact that he’s given you a ride home on a few occasions. It’s convenient since your tattoo parlor is among several others in the heart of the art district. School, work, this pond—everything is within walking distance for you, and yet that hasn’t stopped you from taking Jungkook up on his offers to drive you home. “I come here a lot to sketch when I need a change of scenery. No one else is ever around, so you and I might be the only two people who know about it.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he says, pressing a finger against his parted lips. It draws attention to the hoop around his lower lip. Great, now you’re distracted by its little gleam.

“Did this hurt?” You point to the spot on your lower lip that mirrors Jungkook’s lip piercing.

“It wasn’t as bad as you’d think.” He tugs on the ring and laughs when you cringe at the thought of that ever being ripped out. “But it definitely hurt more than a tattoo there.”

“Wait, you have a lip tattoo?” You lean in to examine Jungkook’s lip more closely as if you’d be able to see anything without pressing his lip down. Unfortunately for you, all you see are his plump lips that you may or may not want to feel pressed against yours. And the mere thought of the tiniest peck is enough to keep you on your toes.

“Maybe.” The boy waits politely for a moment as you eyefuck his lips. Then he returns to his regularly scheduled programming aka teasing you because it’s funny to him. “Why? Are lip tattoos a big turn-on for you?”

“No.” Yes, yes they are. But Jungkook doesn’t need to know that. “I’m just trying to make sure I count each and every one of your tattoos, remember?”

“Right, right,” he nods. “How many have you counted so far?”

Based on your calculations, he has 6 on his hand, somewhere between 10 and 15 in his sleeve (exact number tbd), and the band around his other bicep that you spotted at the gym. You crave to know how many more he might be hiding.

“At least 17,” you say.

Jungkook puts on his best poker face, and you’re unable to tell if your guess is even remotely close to the total across his entire body. A second later, he pulls his lower lip down just enough for you to read the words “fuck it” across the glossy surface. That might just be the most minimalistic tattoo he has, but it’s cute and to the point.

“So if you count this one, you’re at 18? That number sounds a bit low…” There’s a hint of suggestiveness in his tone. He wants you to keep searching, no matter how far you have to go to track them all down.

Without realizing it, the two of you wandered off from the duck pond and back into the district where thousands of tattoos have been brought to life in the flesh. In fact, you’re about a block and a half away from your parlor, where you remember you need to be later. You’d normally be pissed if your client made a last-minute cancelation, but you’re almost hoping they do today.

“Oh, that’s the place where I got my touch-up.” Jungkook points to a few buildings up ahead. “Yugyeom specializes in lips and takes walk-ins. Just saying.”

“No thanks, I think one appointment is enough for today.” You chase the brief thought out of your mind. You wouldn’t have even considered a lip tattoo for a second if it didn’t look so damn good on Jungkook.

Jungkook tilts his head at you with curiosity painted all over his face. “I still can’t tell if you’re being serious or just fucking with me about that lizard tattoo.”

“Maybe you’ll find it on me next time… or maybe you won’t.” Your shrug and cute little smirk get Jungkook to simultaneously laugh and groan out in frustration—the exact reaction you were aiming for. Isn’t that the point of this intimate game between you and him?

“Man, you’re making me want to get a new one now.” The boy lifts his arms and scouts out a vacant spot for some new ink. If you were to give him a tattoo, you wonder where it would go.

“You should try contacting @snowsleeve,” you suggest. “Maybe it’s easier to get an appointment than you think.”

Jungkook stops midstep. “Wait, is she the one you have an appointment with today?”

“No.” You give him a look as if he’s the weird one. As soon as he finishes his step, you start dragging him in the direction of your apartment. “But if you want her bad enough, I think you could make it happen.”

“Yeah…” Jungkook pulls out his phone, turns the screen on, and then immediately turns it back off. “But what if she says no?” he asks.

That’s when you realize something unimaginable. Jeon Jungkook is afraid of rejection.

“She won’t say no.” You assure him with confidence not only because you are the tattoo artist in question but also because you know what a catch Jungkook is. Anyone would be foolish to lose a boy like him. “And if she does say no, for whatever reason, that’s her loss.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to propose to her.” Jungkook makes a face before addressing your heartfelt pep talk from one friend to another. “But I get your point, and I probably shouldn’t be fretting over something like this, huh."

“Great, then you won’t mind if I DM her for you, right?” In the blink of an eye, you snatch the boy’s phone out of his hand and start typing out a message from @ArtOfKooking to @snowsleeve. And the only reason why you’re texting at an incredibly underwhelming 15wpm is that one of your hands is still being held captive by Jeon Jungkook.

The boy says, “Y/N, wait,” but he also doesn’t fight for his phone as you type one character at a time. He does, however, backspace when you get too carried away with the emojis. Bad boys apparently don’t vibe with the sparkly heart emoji the way you do.

Once you’re satisfied with the message, you hand the phone back to its rightful owner for him to hit send. He rolls his eyes at the baby angel emoji you managed to sneak in at the end, but he leaves it in anyway and sends the message.

“So if I hypothetically got an appointment with her, would you come with me?” Jungkook is practically the puppy eye emoji with how he looks at you for a response. What kind of sick human being could ever say no to that?

“Of course,” you say, smiling until your apartment comes into view. You suppose all good things must come to an end eventually. “Do you have an idea of where you’d want the tattoo?”

Jungkook, again, does a quick check of his visible skin. “Maybe somewhere hidden, where only you would know.”

That’s the appeal of a hidden tattoo—it’s your little secret, and you can choose who you share it with. You’ve done a lot of different tattoos in your professional career, but the hidden ones have always held the most meaning to you.

And maybe that’s why it meant something more when the boy invited you to find all of his tattoos, including the ones that aren’t easily accessible. He wants you to know that there are things like his hidden ink and the duck pond that are shared only between you and him. There’s no reason to have doubts when he treats you just as kindly as he treats anyone else.

Because no one else in the world will know where your tattoo went on Jeon Jungkook’s body.

When the two of you reach your front door, you dig around your bag for your keys. The boy peers over your shoulder from behind, and you’re pretty sure you can feel his warmth against your back.

Just as you swing the door open and take a step inside, Jungkook prolongs the hangout, the date, or whatever you want to call this spontaneous outing.

“Wait, Y/N. You don’t have a lip tattoo, too, do you?” he asks. All this talk about hidden tattoos must’ve sparked his curiosity, but you find it interesting that your lips are on his mind when it’s time to say bye.

You spin around and watch frame-by-frame as the boy’s eyes pan to your lips.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” You poke your tongue out just a tad to wet your lips, knowing very well that it’s not helping to pacify his curious heart.

“Can you open your mouth real quick?” His face is awfully angelic for a request that sounds devilish when taken out of context. “Please,” he so politely adds.

“Sorry, I only suck cock on Sundays.” You couldn’t be more nonchalant about the weird things you say. But then again, Jungkook did imply that he likes the weird you. “And preferably not with the door open like that.”

“Y/N, what the fuck,” he laughs, closing the door behind him to play along. You might never get over how cute he looks when his face scrunches up like that. “You know what I meant.”

The apartment feels a lot darker with the door closed even though the sun has only begun to set. If you didn’t have to tattoo a tiny alligator onto some guy’s calf today, something tells you Jungkook would stick around a little longer and you wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

You take a few steps back toward the door to your room, and he follows like a magnet. “If you want my mouth open so badly, open it yourself,” you dare him.

With his eyes glued to your lips, he pins you against your door and cups his tatted hand gently around your chin. His thumb grazes your lower lip but doesn’t press down on it just yet. His eyes, now glazed with lust, meet yours just a split second before your lips collide.

You didn’t expect a kiss from Jeon Jungkook to be so delicate, but that’s exactly what you get. His lips have a plush bounce to them, eager but not assertive. His tongue, on the other hand, slides right in and makes itself at home before you can even invite him in. At least he makes it up to you with tenderness and heat, like a slow and sensual massage that brings out the tiniest moan from you.

You have to resist the urge to run your hands up his chest to his very vulnerable neck. Because once you start letting your lust take over, you know you won't be able to stop, and you'll make your client sad when you have to reschedule his highly anticipated lizard tattoo.

So, as much as it pains you, you force yourself to end the kiss with a few pecks on his lips and one on his cheek. His hand still cups your chin, so you help his thumb pull your lower lip down to reveal nothing but a flushed interior where a lot of mutual feelings were satiated for the time being.

“Keep looking,” you say softly, backing Jungkook toward the way out. You would really love it if your local lizard enthusiast called and canceled his appointment right now. But of course, that doesn’t happen. “And let me know when you get a response from @snowsleeve!”

“You’ll be the first person I tell,” he nods and opens the door with a healthy smile. “Have fun at your appointment.”

“I will,” you say. And you mean it. Even though you were bothered by the thought of work earlier that morning and would’ve preferred to stay with the boy longer, you know you’ll be okay no matter what shit you go through. As long as you know Jungkook is waiting to make you smile and feel special again at the end of it.

#bts smut #bts scenarios #jungkook smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts bad boy au #jungkook tattoo #jungkook #bts

[ecoamerica]

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[hmslusitania]

It tightens its grip when things go unsaid

A soft (??) 5x14 coda built on like a dozen posts I saw on my dash this morning. It sure went. A direction.

“Oh my god, you kept this?”

Eddie freezes in place, paused with his hands and the broccolini under the frigid water of the tap.

“Kept what?” he asks, attempting for casual. It had been a lot easier to maintain a calm disinterest before Frank but as it turns out, part of getting better was giving up playing numb.

Buck pulls the drawing off the fridge, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Gives himself that much longer to deny it.

“Eddie,” Buck prompts, and there’s laughter in his voice but there’s something else too. Something softer, gentler.

“It was — Chris said I—” and he pauses again. Because yes, Chris had said he should keep Buck’s heart drawing, but that wasn’t why Eddie had done it. And he’s spent enough time filtering his feelings towards Buck through Chris. “I liked it.”

Buck snorts and pins it back under the magnets. “Makes me feel bad. I shoulda drawn you a better one.”

“I didn’t draw you one at all,” Eddie replies which is probably nonsensical.

“It’s not like I’ve got a fridge to hang it on anymore anyway,” Buck points out.

He doesn’t. Not with the way he’s been sleeping on Eddie’s couch since he ceded his apartment in the breakup. He’s been in Eddie’s house for two weeks now and Eddie can’t fathom how Buck has missed the drawing so far.

It’s later when they’re on shift, and everyone else is passed out, that Eddie gets the idea. They don’t exactly keep craft supplies around the station, but he finds some paper and a pencil and by the time Bobby wakes up to come get started on breakfast, Eddie’s gone a bit overboard. Partway into the exercise, he’d noticed one of Hen’s surgical textbooks lying in the loft and flipped it to the relevant page, and as it turns out, the art classes he’d taken in high school — the ones he’d insisted were just because he was crushing on a girl, which made them acceptable — hadn’t quite worn off.

The piece of art he’s scribbled down in graphite isn’t quite an anatomical heart and it isn’t quite a photorealistic depiction from the textbook and it isn’t quite the cartoony simplicity Buck had given him. It’s not nearly so digestible and easy to accept. He thinks the thing he’s supposed to do with something like this is being it to his therapist the way a pet cat brings a dead animal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he avoids Bobby’s questioning gaze and takes it downstairs. He tapes it to the inside door of their locker, and forgets about it seconds later because the bell goes.

He doesn’t think about it again until the second Buck opens their locker after their shift is done. He pauses, head tilting sideways, and Eddie considers ducking behind the shelves and hiding his face in the stacks of towels.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Buck says. “This is, like, cool.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“It’s cool,” Buck says. He gently unpeels the tape from the locker and just stares down at the drawing. “Would it be weird if I got this as a tattoo?”

“If you got it as—seriously?”

Buck looks guileless when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s eye. “I don’t have a fridge.”

Eddie almost points out that this is why he’d put it in the locker, but something in Buck’s face stops him. He almost points out that Buck’s skin is not interchangeable with a fridge, but he doesn’t do that either. It’s the visual representation of Eddie’s still battered but healing heart and Buck wants to ink it onto his own flesh.

“If you want,” Eddie says finally. “But I won’t be offended if you change your mind by the time you actually get in to see an artist.”

Buck grins but it’s too soft around the eyes to be a real flippant smile. “I won’t.”

#the title is from the song invisible thread #which is the most buddie song ever #helped by being written and performed by a married gay couple #9-1-1 #911fic #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #the ghost ship scribbles

[therealvalkyrie]

exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others.  ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.” 

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page. 

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x fem!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #valkyrie writes #exactly the spring #haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #don't look at me i'm posting this early bc i'm IMPATIENT #*sobs*

[redrobin-detective]

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was  frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal. 

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning. 

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said. 

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!” 

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking. 

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid. 

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise. 

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away. 

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost. 

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

#feral danny my beloved #i wasn't going to continue Half Of but I was Inspired (tm) #In an AU where Fenton and Phantom aren't known to be the same #Danny lets all his unholy elderich nightmare self out as Fenton and keeps Phantom as cute and friendly as possible #also Danny didnt kill the GIW agent lol #just intangibly threw the bastard outside and took his gun #I was inspired (obviously) by the implication of Danny being the only ghost to truly haunt amity #that any other ghost there is only there bc Danny allows them in #that you can come to Phantom's haunt but you must follow his rule or its Death 2.0 The Trauma Edition #also I lost my shit writing insurmountable square shenanigans so please appreciate it #I actually had two whole paragraphs on Star being sensitive to otherworldly things how it ran in her family #then decided that it kinda distracted from the story so i took it it out #but Its still somethng interesting #explains just why she dislikes danny so much (from what we saw in canon) compared to other A listers who tolerate him at least

[ijustwant2write]

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)

(GIF credit to @aryaofoldstones​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! I saw your looking for Bridgerton requests, I would love some Benedict x Eloise sibling fluff! They have such a good dynamic in the show and I need more’

(I wouldn’t mind making another part of this if people want it tbh)

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise’s gloved hands clung onto her book as she and her family arrived at yet another social event, a ball once again. Her mama had ensured she was dressed to catch the eyes of men, and Eloise knew that meant there would be no room for intelligent conversation. With Daphne now married to the Duke, Eloise had more pressure on her shoulders than she imagined, having to find a suitor of similar standards. However, it wasn’t just her on the market, her brothers were too, especially Benedict (Violet knew it would be extremely difficult to marry off Anthony first, opting for the second eldest son).

Eloise smiled whenever her mama looked her way, though it quickly disappeared once she turned around. Benedict had been instructed to escort her sister around the ball to help seek out suitors, the men knew each other or something about someone; he could help her meet the right one.

“I cannot believe I am here.” Eloise moaned as she looped her arm through her brothers.

“Believe me sister, I do not wish to be here either.”

“Why must you parade me around like a horse at a dressage in order to find a new owner?” Eloise kept catching the men’s gazes, turning up her nose in disgust.

“So dramatic.” he chuckled.

She scoffed.“Well, if you’re going to advise me on who I should be marrying, I shall do the same for you. Now let’s see...”

Eloise looked around the room at all the women, wondering who would be the best match for her brother. Most of these women had no personalities, relying on their outfits to express themselves. Eloise knew of some ladies that were nice, though had nothing in common with her brother.

Eloise shrugged, tugging on her brother’s arm towards the door.“Ah, there’s no one here for us. Let us make haste and leave-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Benedict pulled her back,“we have been strictly told to stay for the night, even if it is just to socialise and...get our names out there.”

Eloise groaned a little too loudly, Ben ducking his head in embarrassment.“How long do these balls go on for?”

“I have never stayed for the full duration.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear.”

Benedict glanced down at her, somehow only just realising that Eloise had brought a book with her.“Is that book sewed to your hand sister?”

“I brought it just in case I became bored. Which I am already.”

“I shall go and grab us some refreshments. Might as well enjoy them whilst we’re here.”

Eloise let her brother slip away, quickly finding a hiding spot by leaning up against a wall, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. She opened her book, continuing where she left off, happy she brought a pencil to scribble down notes for later. The studying never stopped for Eloise. 

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice interrupted her too soon.

Eloise tried her best to be polite, though her smile came off as sarcastic.“Yes?”

“Sorry,” the woman looked taken back,“I thought you were reading a book that I am reading at the moment, but I was wrong. I’ve disturbed you, I shall leave you alone-”

“Wait,” Eloise had now sparked an interest. No other lady had ever approached her like this,“I don’t mean to be rude. What book had you expected?”

“It’s oh so obvious, but I’ve been reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. It’s the newest book out at the moment, and my mama lets me read it seeing as it involves a woman finding someone to marry. Although, it’s definitely about something deeper, that’s just what I told her.”

“I don’t indulge in romantic novels myself, but I am glad to hear of a female author selling her work.”

“It’s fantastic. And it’s nice to be able to read something without it being snatched out of my hands. Oh, where are my manners? I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Sorry, I’ve been dancing with men all night and none of the conversations have been as riveting as this so far.”

“Why am I not surprised?” they both laughed.“I’m Eloise Bridgerton.”

(Y/N) tried to not show her shock when she heard the surname. They were only the most talked about family, her mama had gone on and on about them, especially when Lady Whistledown mentioned them in her writings. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what it is that you are reading?”

“It is to do with my studies. I truly hate these events, so I thought I would ensure my mind was being worked properly.” Eloise realised that could come off as rude, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment.“I did not mean to offend you by that.”

“It really isn’t any bother.” (Y/N) giggled.“I rather enjoy these just for the dancing and drinks, I find promenading to be more successful in finding a suitor. Though I would much rather sneak off and see if I can get a few more pages in of a book I shouldn’t be reading.”

“Eloise, why must you go wondering off like that...” Benedict’s words trailed off as he approached his sister, spotting a beautiful woman stood by her.

Eloise’s eyes flickered between the two, and she smiled when she saw the adoration in her brother’s eyes. Cheekily taking the two glasses from his hands, she passed one to (Y/N), who awkwardly took it. (Y/N) had gazed upon the Bridgerton men in passing, they were very nice to look at. Of course, she never divulged in any fantasies about them, that would be silly. But seeing one in front of her had taken her breath away.

“Thank you brother.” Eloise said, taking a sip.“This is Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a new friend of mine.”

He gently took her free hand in his, bending forwards slightly to kiss it. (Y/N) had this done to her many times, but this was different. Benedict made her feel butterflies in her stomach. Eloise could tell her mama was going to love this.

She cleared her throat.“We were just speaking of art, actually.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.“We were talking about books.”

“I was about to move the topic along.”

“What kind of art would that be then?” Benedict asked, knowing what game his sister was playing. 

“The...drawing, kind.”

“Isn’t all art drawn?”

“No, it is also painted.”

“I think artists may sketch out a rough idea before painting.”

“Well you would know brother, seeing as you yourself are an artist.”

“I wouldn’t say that-”

“You paint, Lord Bridgerton?” (Y/N) asked.

“Ah, yes, and I sketch.” he hoped his cheeks weren’t turning red. 

“Anything in particular?”

“Mostly people.”

“Are you both attending the art exhibition my family are holding next week?”

“That’s your families’ exhibit?” Benedict became excited.

“Yes, my father collects a lot of art work. Then mother realised she could make a social event out of it, but at least everyone will be able to admire the work.”

“Would you believe it, we already have it noted down in our social calendar!” Eloise informed (Y/N). Benedict could sense her over-reacting, trying to keep a smile as (Y/N)’s face lit up in excitement. 

“Perfect!” (Y/N) looked back up at Ben, making him stand a little taller.“It will be nice to have someone there who knows about the artwork. It will make for an interesting conversation. Just don’t let my father lecture you, he will talk for far too long! And I know you will be too polite to try and get away.”

“My brother is very polite.” Eloise said.“In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t-”

“Excuse me for the intrusion,” a young man said from beside (Y/N),“but I was wondering if we could resume our dance lady (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) was smiling, but Eloise knew that look; it was the face women made when a man who made them uncomfortable approached, but they had to remain ladylike and polite.

“Actually my brother just asked her and she said yes. You two best make your way to the floor before the music starts again.” Eloise nudged her brother.

Benedict was confused at his sisters offer, until he locked eyes with (Y/N) again. They were pleading him to sweep her away, she was even leaning away from this man. He had been disrespectful in some way, and he wasn’t letting (Y/N) go through that again (despite only knowing the girl for a few minutes). He smugly smiled at the man, holding out his arm which (Y/N) took a little too quickly. Eloise was happy with herself as the pair walked off, sending the man a death glare when he asked her to dance instead. Once he left, her eyes went back to find her brother, who was already dancing with (Y/N), both smiling and laughing. Her mama was going to be ecstatic about this. 

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise sat in the drawing room, obviously lounging with a book. Her younger siblings were being irritating as usual, running around her in circles. Before they arrived, she had peace. Eloise wanted a few moments alone, because she knew her mama would be bursting with questions about the night before.

“Ah, there you are.” Violet said as she walked in.

The book flopped into Eloise’s lap, a frown on her face. There goes her reading time.

“So, how was last night? Did you meet anyone?” her mama sat beside her.“You two, go play outside if you’re going to run around please.”

The children stopped as their mama spoke, sending each other devilish grins before they ran out of the room again, their giggling echoing down the halls. Violet went to shout after them, but decided to leave it be, there were more pressing matters.

“Well mama, do you see any suitors?” Eloise gestured around her.

Violet sighed.“Did you even try last night?”

“My life will not be reduced to a single night where I was forced to peacock around in order to please a man.”

“Oh, Eloise, must you make everything so dramatic?”

“Funny, Benedict said the same thing.”

“Actually, where is your brother? I have not seen him all morning.”

“He went out.” Eloise was relieved that the focus would now be off of her.“He’s calling upon a lady.”

Violet’s eyes widened.“What? When? Who?”

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/L/N)? They are quite reputable.”

Eloise rolled her eyes.“Mama, she is a lovely girl. I don’t think you should just judge her on what family she comes from.”

“Oh, so you approve of this girl?”

“I...I mean...Well, I only spoke with her for a mere few minutes.”

“But?”

Eloise let out a huff.“I enjoyed her company. I think Benedict likes her. I didn’t see him for the rest of the night until it was time to leave. He spent all his time with her.”

Violet became overjoyed.“Oh, what marvelous news! I wish he had told me. Do you know what he took to her? Flowers? Food?”

“I have no idea mama. Just wait for his return and he will tell you all the details. I am not a psychic.”

Violet was impatient as she awaited the return of her son. Poor Collin had also been questioned when he showed up in the drawing room, but he had overslept in bed, waking with a terrible headache. It seemed that it was about to come back to him when his mama bombarded him with questions as to why he hadn’t called upon anyone that morning. Eloise kept her giggles quiet, ducking behind her book when Collin sent her daggers.

Poor Benedict had no idea what was in store for him. His cheeks were aching from how much he was smiling. He wasn’t surprised when he arrived at the (Y/L/N)’s house and saw multiple callers for (Y/N). However, jealousy rose inside him when he thought about these men dancing with her, trying to convince her that they were the man to marry. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers, remembering that (Y/N) had mentioned her favourite the night before. Looking around at any other flowers she received, he was glad to see no other gentleman had chose it. Surely that would show he was listening? He endured sonnets, stories, songs and boasting from the other men, trying not to show his dissatisfaction as each one stepped forward. There was pressure that her parents were there, especially when he realised he was the last gentleman, everyone else had left.

(Y/N) had been incredibly anxious when she saw Benedict that morning. He had been the only man she genuinely smiled at, hoping he came at his own will, not forced by his mama. The night before had been the best ball (Y/N) had ever been to. Benedict was sweet, charming, handsome and interesting. They were able to talk about anything and everything, no small talk involved like all the other men she danced with. He had swooned her, and here he was, calling upon her. 

Back at the Bridgerton house, Violet had not sat down since talking Collin’s ear off. Eloise was still in the drawing room with her, as were her two youngest siblings, munching on biscuits as they threw questions at their mama. She did not have all the answers, sometimes not even hearing them speak for she was too deep in her thoughts. At one point, she did sit, but beside the window, o the lookout for any signs of her son. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, Violet leapt out of her seat, startling her children. She made a beeline to the door, standing there with her hands clasped together. When Benedict walked in, he too flinched, not expecting his mama to be there.

“Mama, how long have you been stood there?” Benedict asked as he walked past her, pinching a biscuit from his brother’s plate.

“She’s been waiting for you.” Eloise explained, also excited to hear about his calling.

“I hope you sat down at some point.” he joked, sitting beside Eloise and slouching.

Violet hurried to sit on the sofa across him.“You didn’t tell me you were calling on a lady this morning.”

“Well, we got back late from the ball yesterday evening, and I had to leave early to ensure I got there in good time. Though it seemed every other man thought that too.”

“There were many men there?” 

“Yes, quite a few.”

Eloise straightened up at her brother’s grumpy expression.“You really like her!”

“How wonderful!” Violet gushed. 

“Do not get ahead of yourselves.”

“But you do, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called on her.”

Ben was lost for words. He couldn’t argue with that, and he did like seeing his mama happy.“Yes, yes I do. And it would seem she reciprocates the feelings.”

“This is such good news! I must see what our social calendar looks like, we must ensure you two spend time together.”

“Actually mama-” Eloise went to tell her about the art exhibit until Ben interrupted.

“Good idea mama.” he nodded, smiling at her as she walked away, a spring in her step. Once she was gone, he let out a big breath.“I just needed a moment without questions from her.”

“Well, you’re going to have questions from me.” Eloise angled her body to face him, her elbow perched on the sofa with her face resting in her hand.“I didn’t think you were going to call upon her. Are my match making skills really that good?”

“I hate to admit it, but yes, you have done an excellent job.” Benedict felt relaxed thinking about (Y/N).

“So, what happened this morning?”

“I took her flowers, she told me her favourites last night, and then I had to sit there whilst her other gentleman callers desperately tried to impress her. It was agony! Finally I was able to have time with her, and it was just...I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“Did you bring her anything else?”

Benedict became bashful.“I brought her a sketchbook, like the one I have. She mentioned how she used to often sketch when she was younger. I thought it would be a unique gift.”

“Benedict, you truly are a romantic at heart.”

“For her I am, yes.”

Eloise smiled for her brother, until a smirk fell on his face.“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Aw, is someone also a secret romantic?”

“No!” Eloise protested, quickly grabbing her book again.“I am just happy you found someone.”

“And you helped, because you secretly want everyone to find someone.”

“No I don’t! You’re ruining this moment now Benedict.”

“Don’t worry Eloise, you’ll find someone.” Ben joked.

She groaned.“You are insufferable...but I still want to go to that art exhibit.”

“To see love bloom?”

“N-no, to see the art work.”

“Of course, of course. But, thank you Eloise.”

She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it.“You’re welcome.”

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[ecoamerica]

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