#maybe i should have gone with the second half of the chorus but i did this last minute lol 😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

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Temporary - Oscar Diaz imagine Part 6

Previously...

"De nada princesa." He winked before stepping out into the yard, a chorus of 'spooky!' coming from the Santos as he closed the door behind him.

A cough from beside me brought me back to earth, turning to see three sets of eyes on me, Ruby and Jamal looking as though I'd killed somebody right then and there and Cesar with a knowing smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked innocently.

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

"What did you do?" Jamal asked, still stood staring at me with wide eyes.

"I have never, ever, seen an actual smile on that guys face." Ruby muttered, watching the front door as though Oscar would magically walk through it any second.

"He's got a point." Cesar added making my eyes move to him. "He's my brother and I've never heard him call anyone 'princesa' before, let alone offer to let a girl stay over with no repayment, if you get what I mean." He smirked as he looked at me, his eyes holding a knowing glint.

"Maybe I just have that effect on people." I shrugged with a slight laugh. "Anyway, what's this about a school dance?" I asked in attempt to change the subject.

"It's on Friday and we're gunna get freaky with it." Jamal sung as he moved his hips in what I think was supposed to be a 'sexy' way.

"Okay, that's gross." I stated pointing at the younger boy as he slowly stopped dancing, crossing his arms before flopping down on the couch besides me.

"What is with you people and throwing water on my flame?" He groaned to himself.

"Jamal, baby, you need to have a flame for someone to put it out." I spoke with false sympathy, laughing as he rolled his eyes and mimicked me.

"How were the school dances in Cali?" Ruby asked leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched me.

"Uh, I didn't actually go to any." I shrugged thinking back to how me and Jess would just take a couple bites down to the beach and drink the night away.

"You didn't go? Like, to any?" Cesar asked with a surprised look on his face.

"Not that I remember no, I used to just go down to the beach and get drunk." I shrugged with a small smile.

"You should come." He continued making me look up to him in slight confusion. "To our dance." He clarified with a smirk.

"Oh, well in case you haven't realised I finished school a couple years ago, and I didn't even go to yours." I smiled at his offer.

"So? We can bring dates from other schools, or not from school at all, this is freeridge, it's a pretty relaxed deal." He shrugged, the smirk still on his face.

"I'm not sure that's going to a school dance with a fourteen year old is such a great idea." I muttered unsurely.

"You're overthinking things here Lia." Jamal said loudly as he pushed himself up and stood next to Cesar and Ruby. "God, you're definitely related." He spoke to himself as he looked up to the ceiling.

"Hey!" Me and Ruby yelled at the same time making Jamal raise his eyebrows in an 'I told you so' style. "But he's right." Ruby shrugged. "It's nothing serious just a dance, besides, I thought you'd be up for some fun after whatever just happened." He continued.

"Ruby's right." Cesar nodded, all three boys stood watching me and waiting for an answer.

"Fine." I sighed in defeat. "You're on." I smiled.

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

"Thank you again." I smiled as Oscar grabbed what he needed from his room before spending the night on the couch.

"Ain't nothin'." He shrugged as he headed towards the door, fresh shirt and shorts in hand.

"I'm going to the school dance with your brother." I blurted out stopping him with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh my god that sounded so much stranger out loud." I groaned as I flopped back onto his bed staring at the ceiling.

"Why?" He snorted as he turned round, dumping his stuff on a set of drawers before he stood at the side of the bed looking down at me in a mix of confusion and amusement.

"They was talking about the dance and I mentioned I'd never been to one, then Cesar offered to take me." I shrugged before sitting up and looking up at him. "It's not that strange right?"

"You're 19 and going to a school dance with my brother." He said matter-of-factly as he looked down at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I know it's so weird." I half groaned, half laughed as I thought about what I had agreed to. "You know you don't have to sleep out there right? I'm more than happy to, this is your bed after all." I mentioned, running my fingers through my tangled hair.

"A princesa should sleep on a bed, not a couch." He gave me a small smile and a shrug.

"And what about a caballero?" I asked making him look at me in confusion. "Well, you were my night in shinning armour." I teased with a smirk, and I'm sure, I saw a hint of pink lining his cheeks before he cleared his throat and it was gone. "Oscar Diaz get your culo into the bed before I tell all your little home boys that you cried at Marley and me." I smirked knowing that seeing Spooky Diaz crying earlier was going to come in handy, not that he'd admit he was.

"A) I wasn't crying, and b) even if I was you wouldn't dare." He muttered narrowing his eyes at me although the small smirk on his face let me know that he wasn't quite 100% serious.

"Try me." I smirked.

I let out a laugh as he sighed loudly throwing his head back before huffing his way over to the opposite side of the bed, pulling his top over his head before throwing himself down dramatically.

"You're such a drama queen, you know that?" I laughed as I lifted the cover and settled down on the pillow.

"Let's remember who's bed this is yeah." He muttered, both of us laid on our backs and watching the plain white roof.

"Was you close to them? Your parents I mean." I whispered remembering Ruby saying that the Diaz brothers had been alone for the majority of Cesar's childhood.

"My mum died when I was younger, couple years after Cesar was born, I don't remember much about her other than she was a jumped up crackhead." He muttered, my eyes widening slightly at how blunt and open he was being about it. "Me and my dad were kinda close when it came to gang business, I guess, but other than that I barely knew the man personally." I felt him shrug from his place besides me. "What about you?" He asked making me scoff quietly.

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed or not but me and my mum don't exactly have the greatest relationship. She's constantly on my ass trying to put me down, she tried her hardest to make me into the housewife that she's always been, and that's just not me." I shrugged laughing slightly. "But my dad." I trailled of with a sigh, a small smile on my face. "He's the greatest man I've ever met, I mean sure, he's had some troubles in the past but he's always put me and mum above it all. Even when it costs him more than he has, he always finds a way to make sure we're alright." I smiled at the thought of the hero that was my dad.

"He sounds like a good man." Oscar whispered making me turn to face him only to realise that he was already watching me.

"He is." I whispered with a small smile, my eyes captured by his as the familiar butterflies from earlier suddenly reappeared, his eyes moving between my own and my lips.

Not risking another interruption he quickly leant forwards and captured my lips with his own, moving our lips against each other's slowly, the cliché of butterflies and fireworks never really making much sense to me until this moment, when I felt it all.

I kept my eyes closed as we slowly pulled away, his forehead resting against mine as he released my bottom lip with a slight pop. Taking a deep breath I opened my mouth to speak before I was interrupted by a quick kiss on my lips before he pulled back completely.

"Sorry, I uh, I shouldn't have done that." He said quietly, looking into my eyes briefly before reaching over and playing with the small 'D' pendant that hung around my neck. "I know you got a boyfriend." He muttered scowling, dropping the necklace as though it had burned him.

"It's alright Oscar." I smiled slightly, bringing my hands up to the sides of his face my thumb rubbing his jawline gently. "I'm done with him, enough is enough, right." I shrugged making him chuckle slightly.

"It's okay." I smiled bringing my hands to the sides of his face, my thumb rubbing over his jawline gently. "I'm not with him anymore." I shrugged making him chuckle slightly.

"Good." He smirked, placing his hands on he sides of my face forcing me to let go of his and hold onto his wrists instead. Giving me one more smirk he leaned in placing his lips against mine as his hands disappeared from my face, reaching behind my neck as I felt the weight of the necklace disappear.

Pulling away I couldn't help but laugh as Oscar threw the necklace towards the drawers opposite his bed, the small chain sliding across the surface before dropping down the back. Letting out a chuckle of his own he laid himself down pulling me towards him do that my head was resting on his chest, his arm wrapping around me waist from behind while his other was folded under his head.

"Night Lia." He mumbled, placing a small kiss on my forehead.

"Goodnight Oscar." I whispered into the otherwise silent room, placing a brief kiss to his bare chest before drifting off into the darkness.

——————

"Aye Spooky! Where you at?" Accompanied by a know at the door make me jump the next morning as I was getting myself a glass of water in Oscars kitchen the next morning.

Since I'd always been an early bird, as my mother would put it, it was no surprise that I had woken up before Oscar and Cesar, my head resting on Oscars chest with his arms wrapped around me tightly.

"Spooky man, open up!" A different voice called from outside again accompanied by a know that was more like banging.

Sighing to myself I debated whether to go and wake Oscar or to just answer the door myself, yet another knock on the door answering my question for me.

"Can I help you?" I asked as I opened the door to be met with the same Santo that had stepped up to Diego yesterday along with another one that I recognised from the Monse and Cesar fight, the one who tried to step up to me, bitch.

"Where's Spooky?" The bitch asked as he looked me up and down with smirk, only then did I remember that I was in the same clothes I'd slept in, a pair of Oscar's boxers and my tank top, luckily I had remembered to put my bra back on when I'd gotten up this morning.

"How 'bout you show me a little respect before I slam this door in your culo feo." I smiled sarcastically crossing my arms over my chest before the other guy got my attention.

"Hey, uh, Lia right?" He asked with furrowed brows like he was trying to remember. "I was there when your boy came for you." He smiled slightly.

"Right." I nodded. "Thank you for that." I smiled sincerely, genuinely thankful that he had stepped in.

"I'm sad eyes by the way." He smiled as he stuck his hand out for me to shake. "And that's Johnny." He nodded over to his companion.

"Lia." I smiled putting my hand in his and shaking it lightly. "But you already knew that." I laughed.

"Is spooky here or what?" Johnny huffed against the door frame, once again letting his eyes roam my half naked body.

"Spooky's gunna kick the shit outta you if you don't stop looking at her like that." Cesar's voice made me jump as he came to the door with a glass of juice in one hand. "Here." He smiled as he handed me the juice while taking the water from my other hand.

"Oh, thank you C." I smiled as I took a sip. "Oh shit yeah, you guys wanna come in?" I asked quickly remembering the two Santos stood waiting in the doorway.

"Thanks." Sad eyes laughed as he made his way in, fist bumping Cesar on his way.

"Apologise." I said, putting my arm across the doorway before Johnny could walk in, looking up at him with a smirk as he glared down at me. "Apologise for acting like a jackass or you can wait for Spooky out in the yard." I shrugged as he looked at me in disbelief. "Oh, and it rained last night so the couch is slightly damp." I shrugged again as I went to close the door before his hand stopped me.

"Alright, I'm sorry." He smiled sarcastically as he tried to take a step inside.

"You're sorry for what exactly?" I smirked as I stepped in his way again, getting a kick of amusement at the scowl on his face. "Well, I'm waiting." I sighed tapping my invisible watch on my wrist.

"I'm sorry for being a jackass." He groaned rolling his eyes. "Happy?" He sighed as he looked down at the smirk on my face.

"Very." I smiled as I moved out of his way to let him in, closing the door behind him.

"Aye spooky! Where you been man? Damn hyna trying to make me wait inside." Johnny cheered as Oscar appeared from the hallway in nothing but the pair of shorts that he'd slept in last night.

Sure, Oscar Diaz wasn't exactly rocking an eight pack and abs of steal, but my god was he something to look at first thing in the morning. I couldn't help but blush as his eyes landed on me, scanning me up and down quickly before he looked back to Johnny, giving him an uninterested look before shaking his head and heading into the kitchen.

"Lia." He called looking over his shoulder at me. "Come here a second." He added, motioning for me to go over to him.

"What's up?" I asked standing next to him as he opened the fridge only to from when it came up empty.

"I was gunna ask if you wanted anything but I gotta go to the store." He groaned rubbing a hand over his tanned head.

"I can take a walk to that cafe down the street, mama coco's is it?" I asked recalling seeing the small cafe a few times since I'd been back in town.

"Nah." He muttered shaking his head, closing the fridge and heading back into the living room. "Johnny, go down to mamma coco's and grab me a coffee and one of those roll things I like." He told him before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a twenty and throwing it onto the Santos lap.

"Do you normally sleep with cash on you?" I asked amused knowing that he had slept in those very shorts. "My bad." I giggled as he turned to look at me with an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"Nah, the girl just offered man." Johnny shrugged as he picked up the cash and held it out for me to take.

"I don't care." Oscar muttered as he pushed his outstretched hand away. "What do you want?" He asked looking over his shoulder at me.

"I'll have a tea with two sugars please." I smiled at him. "Oh! And a blueberry muffin!" I added excitedly, smirking when Johnny rolled his eyes.

I laughed as Johnny stood up with a huff before making his way out of the house, with one last laugh I made my way back to Oscars room to put on my clothes from yesterday since the rest of my stuff was back at Ruby's.

"Weren't you wearing that yesterday?" Monse's voice made me jump as I made my way back into the living room that was now occupied by Oscar, Sad eyes and the core 4, plus Olivia. The core 4 was dotted around the room, Sad eyes was laid back on the recliner in the corner while Oscar and Olivia was on the couch, their thighs brushing slightly, a wave of jealousy washing over me before I shook it off, he wasn't mine, I had no right to be jealous over silly little things like that.

"Uh yeah, I haven't been back to Ruby's because, well, ya know." I shrugged slightyl before turning to the blonde girl. "You must be Olivia." I smiled over at the young girl, I'd never met her before, or even heard of her before mum and Geny told me about he staying.

"That's me." She smiled. "You're Lia right?" She said, crossing one leg over the other subconsciously pushing hers and Oscars legs closer together.

"And my date to the dance on Friday." Cesar grinned as he came over to where I was stood and out his arm over my shoulders.

"Strictly friends only, got it." I raised my eyebrows as I looked to him, making him chuckle and nod in agreement.

"Since when are you taking her?" Monse asked confused, ignoring the looks that the rest of the crew was giving her instead opting to keep her attention on me and Cesar.

"Since last night when she told me that she'd never been to her own school dances." He shrugged casually, to him it was no big deal but I could see I'm Monse's eyes that she was hurting.

"You know I don't have to go, not if you two were planning on going together." I said quickly, not looking to be in the middle of a teenage love triangle or whatever this shit was.

"Nah, we're just friends, right monse?" Cesar shrugged as he pulled me close to his side, Monse not missing the gesture.

"Right." She mumbled looking at the ground just as Johnny stormed in and threw a paper bag down onto the ktichen counter before putting the drinks down considerably gentler.

"Oh food!" I grinned as I pulled away from Cesar's hold, jumping up on the counter and opening up the bag, immediately pulling out my blueberry muffin and digging in, sending a muffin filled smile in Johnny's direction. "Gracias." I smirked as he shook his head and leant against the wall.

"Aye where's mine foo'?" Oscar piped up, leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched me finish my muffin, throwing the wrapper to the side before taking a sip of my tea.

"I'm the bag." I shrugged with a smirk, watching as his eyes lit up with amusement while Ruby and Jamal watched with horror on their faces.

"Is that right?" He asked smirking at me with an eyebrow raised.

"That's right." I nodded as I blew into the lid of my tea before taking another sip.

"You not gunna bring it here?" He asked tilting his head to the side slightly like a confused puppy.

"I'm sorry, remind me how much you're paying me to be your waitress again?" I asked sarcastically, laughing as Ruby and Jamal's eyes widened that little bit more.

"I'll get it for you Mr Spooky Sir." Jamal said quickly getting up from his seat and rushing towards the bag only for me to grab the bad and hold it behind my back.

"Nu-Uh." I muttered shaking my head with a chuckle. "I'm gunna need the owner of the bag to come and collect it thank you." I smirked looking from Jamal to Oscar who was watching me with an amused smile on his face before he pushed himself to his feet and walked over.

"I'm right here." He smirked making Jamal jump as he appeared behind him. "Can I get my food now?" He asked as Jamal scurried back to his spot making me laugh.

"Of course." I grinned handing the bag over. "What do I get for keeping it safe for you?" I asked quietly, knowing that the other people in the room were watching the interaction.

"I could think of something." He muttered, a smirk on his face as he stepped closer.

"Oh yeah?" I smirked back as he took another step so that we were basically chest to chest only having to look up at him slightly from where I was sitting on the counter.

"Yeah." He mumbled before taking my head in his hands and bringing his lips down on mine in a slow but butterfly filled kiss.

The joint "Oh my god." From Ruby and Jamal making us pull apart slowly with small smiles on both our faces.

#on my block imagines #cesar diaz #on my block #on my block imagine #ruby martinez #monse #spooky diaz #Oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz imagines #Oscar diaz series #on my block series #temporary part six #temporary #temporary series #spooky diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagines

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helloalycia · 3 years

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teenage dirtbag [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: when you're paired with the most popular girl in your grade for Chemistry class, you definitely don't expect to start liking her like that...

warning/s: none i don't think??

author's note: okay so i have a ton of requests to work through but i got sidetracked and before i knew it, five parts of this imagine were written.

It's based off the song 'Teenage Dirtbag' and idk, i thought it was cute to write! Who doesn't love the popular girl!wanda and loner!reader concept?

Here’s a cover of the song to listen to because i really liked it and a girl sings it so it immediately made the song 10x more gay, just how i like it 🥰

"Are you all comfortable?"

The class stayed silent, watching our Chemistry teacher, Mr. Hale, as he looked to everyone with a raised brow.

"You all like who you're sat with?" he asked again, as if expecting an actual response from someone.

I exchanged questioning glances with my best friend, Y/BF/N, who was sat beside me. It was the first day back in Chemistry class of our final year of high school and we were just waiting to begin.

"Anyone?" he asked, looking around.

"Yeah," a few students mumbled in response so we could move on.

He clapped his hands together. "Great! Well, don't get too comfortable because I made a seating chart."

A chorus of groans erupted from the class, including from me and Y/BF/N. Every other class had successfully managed to not give us a seating chart. I'd heard that Mr. Hale was an awkward teacher who hated students (ironically), but I didn't think he'd stoop so low as to pair us with students who weren't our friends. These new seats were also our partners for the rest of the year and were non-negotiable, so any projects or work we did would have to be with our seat buddy. Fun.

Students began to shuffle to their newly-assigned seats reluctantly as Mr. Hale read out the chart. When Y/BF/N left my side, I frowned dramatically, waving goodbye to him.

"Wanda Maximoff, you're now partners with Y/N Y/L/N," said Mr. Hale, making me look up at the mention of my name.

I didn't get chance to register what he'd said as the aforementioned girl soon approached me, settling her bag on the table beside me. I looked up and saw Wanda Maximoff smiling my way before taking a seat on the stool.

Huh. Wanda Maximoff. She was one of the most popular girls in our grade. Everybody loved her, either wanting to be friends with her, be with her or be her. I'd personally never crossed paths with her apart from the few classes we shared. She seemed nice enough, but I guess I had preconceived notions of what she was like since she'd made the very poor decision to date the most obnoxious guy ever. Anyone making decisions that terrible definitely had a flaw.

She had a twin brother, Pietro, who was also in our grade and played on the football team alongside her boyfriend. Her parents were good friends with mine, through mutual friends, I think, as I recalled my mum mentioning 'Mrs. Maximoff's boy' or 'Mrs. Maximoff's girl'. And I remembered when her family moved into our town back in second grade.

Admittedly, Wanda was the star of the show back then, too. We were only kids, but child Y/N wasn't blind. She was the first girl I'd crushed on, an innocent child crush – the crush that made me realise I liked girls. Apart from that, and the fact that she had a locker behind me in the hallway, I never really thought about her.

I glanced behind me, catching Y/BF/N's gaze across the room as he sat beside some other kid. He frowned, implying he wished we were partners, and I knew just how he felt.

Once Mr. Hale finished assigning seats, he gave us five minutes to get to know our new partners as he struggled to find the powerpoint for today's class. If there was anything worse than getting assigned seats, it was ice breakers.

"Er, well, hi," Wanda greeted, turning to face me. Green eyes sparkled brightly behind a friendly smile. "I'm Wanda. But, I mean, we already know each other."

"That we do," I said with a nod, returning her smile. "How're you doing? Your summer go well?"

She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting herself so she was comfortable on her stool. And as she did, a waft of her perfume washed over me and I blinked, trying to ignore how nice it smelled. Floral. Subtle. It suited her.

"Good, yeah," she answered with a nod. "Could have gone on longer for all I care."

I chuckled. "I feel that. I'm definitely not ready to be back."

"Right?" she said with raised brows. "It's gonna take a while to get back into routine, that's for sure. But I guess I did miss seeing my friends everyday."

I hummed in agreement, eyes flickering to Mr. Hale as he attempted to tackle the oncoming stream of animations on his powerpoint. I tried not to laugh as I looked back to Wanda, who clearly noticed the same thing as me and stifled a smile.

"Have you had Mr. Hale before?" I asked, nodding his way.

She shook her head. "Nope. You?"

"Never."

"Sucks that he makes seating charts," she said with a sigh, before realising what she said and looking to me with panicked eyes. "Not that I don't like you or anything–!"

"It's fine, I get it," I cut her off with an amused smile. "I wanted to sit with my friend, too."

She breathed out quietly, a hint of relief in her eyes, and scrunched her nose with an apologetic smile. Okay, yeah, maybe that was kind of cute. Older Y/N wasn't blind either. Wanda Maximoff was beautiful, with long brunette locks and matching hazel eyes that seemed to change from blue to green to brown in a kaleidoscope of colour. A winning smile and soothing voice was enough for anyone to fall for her unintentional charm, but it was purely admiration. Everyone pretty much had a mild crush on her, you'd be stupid not to.

"If we're gonna be working together, d'you wanna get the whole awkward number exchange out the way now?" she asked, half joking, half not.

"I– er– sure," I stumbled out rather carelessly, before cringing internally. Where did that come from?

Thankfully, she didn't seem to pick up on it (or just saved me the embarrassment of acknowledging it) and was already writing her number on a slip of paper. Sliding it my way, she capped her pen and gave me her signature smile.

"Thanks," I said with a nod, accepting the paper and pocketing it. "Can't wait to start those lovely science projects we've got coming up!"

She let out a quiet laugh at my sarcasm. "It'll be fine. You're not dumb, right? So, we'll be fine."

"Can't promise you that," I joked, making her roll her eyes playfully.

"Maybe if we–"

But she was cut off when Mr. Hale spoke up loudly, interrupting everyone's conversations.

"Five minutes are up, let's begin!"

I wondered if everyone was thinking the same thing as me – that was not five minutes.

"So it begins...," I mumbled to myself, facing forward.

Wanda breathed out, a stifled laugh, probably having heard my comment, and I couldn't help but crack a smile. Maybe I judged her too harshly. She wasn't actually that bad.

—

Since being paired with Wanda, I was surprised by how much she'd made an effort to befriend me outside of class. We'd always been back to back with our lockers though not quite speaking, but since becoming Chemistry partners, she'd wish me a good morning if she caught me, or greet me briefly as we collected our books.

She didn't have to, but I could see why everybody liked her now. She was just genuinely nice. Due to circumstance, we'd become partners, but rather than leaving it at that, she made a genuine effort to befriend me. And not even just me, but also Y/BF/N, who was at the locker next to mine. He was as surprised as I was, expecting Wanda to mind her own business as we weren't exactly in the same social circles.

This was, I guess you could say, the start of our friendship. And it was a good one at that. I grew to learn how funny she was, how much she loved her brother, the passion she had for art and painting... she was a wonderful person. Which is why I didn't understand why she was with her boyfriend, Nate. He was a grade-A dick and everything Wanda wasn't. How were they a thing?

It sounds like I'm being a bitch and judgemental, but he really is the worst. The few unfortunate times I shared a class with him or caught sight of him around school, he was causing some sort of trouble with the teachers or picking on students in a way that made it seem like a joke but everybody knew it wasn't.

For example, there was a time when Wanda and I were studying for an upcoming Chemistry test we had. We decided to just help each other study since we already worked together in class, so knew we could motivate each other to actually put in the work. It was, maybe, the fourth studying session we had, and I was going over some notes when I felt her eyes watching me.

"You need a hand?" I asked, unable to take the staring any longer. I looked up at her, quirking a brow.

She seemed to fall out of her daydream and straightened up, eyes flickering to mine. "Huh?"

I gave her an awkward smile, unable to maintain her gaze. "You're staring."

She didn't seem fazed as I called her out, instead leaning back in her seat and continuing to study me curiously.

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

Subconsciously reaching for my hair, I straightened up my ponytail and shook my head. "No...?"

She chewed on her lip, saying after a pause, "You tied it up. You usually leave it out."

Did I? I wasn't sure. I just knew that her noticing something like that made me feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"It looks good," she decided, before offering up a small smile. "You should do it like that more often."

Quickly, I felt warm. Was it stuffy in here or was it just me? God, compliments already made me feel stupid. And compliments from pretty girls made me feel ten times that. It didn't help that she was watching me with an endearing expression, making me focus on my book before me.

"Thanks," I got out quickly. "I– yeah."

Her smile widened before she looked back down to her own book. Suddenly, I became acutely aware of the way her leg brushed up against mine under the table.

Thankfully, the strange fuzzy feeling following her compliment faded and we were able to get back to work without her tuning out again. As we were going over each other's practice questions, an annoying voice shouted from across the library.

"Wanda, head's up!"

"Hey, no talking in the library!" a librarian hissed at the voice.

Wanda and I looked up just in time for a football to smack me in the side of the head. I didn't even see it coming until I felt the thing slap my head, giving me an instant urge to strangle whoever threw it.

"Fuck," I cursed, holding my head and closing my eyes to breathe through the pain.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Wanda's voice made me open my eyes and I saw her leaning forward, hand resting on my shoulder and the other on top of mine that was clutching my head.

"Been better," I admitted, trying to make light of the situation because as angry as I was at the idiot who threw it, I was also embarrassed because it hit me.

Wanda seemed concerned as she gently pulled me hand away, not letting go as she got a better look at the side of my face which I was sure was burning red. At least that's what it felt like.

"Shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up and saw none other than Nate Green, Wanda's boyfriend, hovering and stifling a laugh as he looked at me. He had his stupid varsity jacket on and I was tempted to strangle him with it.

"I thought Wanda would catch it," he explained stupidly, before moving around the desk to collect his football.

Breathing out through gritted teeth, I pulled away from Wanda and nodded reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Just need an ice pack."

"You're such an idiot, Nate!" Wanda snapped, looking to him with a glare. "You need to watch what you're doing!"

He smiled sheepishly, making me roll my eyes and clench my jaw at the heat on the right side of my face. Fuck, that really hurt.

"What did you want?" Wanda asked him with a quirked brow. She definitely wasn't impressed. I'd hate to ever be on the wrong side of that condescending glare.

"I thought we could go out," he said like it was that simple.

"I'm studying," she quipped with crossed arms.

"I'm happy to wait," he said, toying with the ball in his hands.

Knowing I definitely didn't want that, I closed my books and said, "It's cool. You guys go. I think we're done here anyway."

Nate grinned. "See? S'all good."

Wanda ignored him and looked to me with worried eyes. "Y/N, are you sure?"

"You know your stuff," I said, referring to the work. "You'll be fine in the test. I'm sure."

I offered her a small, forced smile, before standing up to pack my bag. She did the same, beginning to pack her own things, but her eyes kept flittering towards me.

"D'you want me to go to the nurse's office with you?" she asked, shame laced in her voice.

"It's fine, I'll be fine," I said, hurrying up with my actions so I could just get out of here whilst I still had (some of) my dignity left. "See you in class tomorrow."

She nodded, sending a guilty smile my way. "See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Without giving either of them a look, I shouldered my backpack and left the library. Just another reminder of why Nate Green was literally the worst person ever.

—

Liking Wanda as more than a friend wasn't something that happened for a while if I'm being honest. I guess I started to enjoy her presence more and more the longer we spent time together.

I'd come to appreciate it whenever she'd say something completely out of the blue that made no sense whatsoever, or whenever she'd laugh at something I'd said that was arguably not funny but she didn't want to make me feel bad, or even whenever I teased her about something stupid she did, resulting in her doing that cute little nose scrunch she did. But I didn't think of it as liking her, more just a randomly-formed friendship that I was glad to have.

Maybe it was this misinterpretation that didn't make me see how I was acting around her, such as the time I was in the dinner queue at lunch when I realised she was stood behind me.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," she said when she noticed it was me in front of her. Her usual bright, friendly smile was on her lips as she looked to me. "You good?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yeah. Just getting some doughnuts for Y/BF/N and I. You?"

"Same," she said, before nudging the guy next to her, who I recognised as her brother. "Pietro and I thought we'd treat ourselves."

At the mention of his name, Pietro looked down to his sister before his gaze fell on me. A mischievous smile appeared on his lips as he put out his hand.

"Pietro Maximoff," he introduced. "You must be the Chemistry partner, Y/N, right?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise as I shook his hand. "You, er, know who I am?"

He glanced at his sister with a cheeky smile. Wanda was avoiding both of our gazes, her cheeks dusting pink.

Clearly saving face for Wanda, he said, "We've been in the same grade since kids, right? 'Course I do."

Despite the truth to his words, something told me that wasn't how he knew who I was. Especially since I was sure I'd never spoken to him in my life. But, to save Wanda the embarrassment of clearly having spoken of me at home, I nodded to Pietro.

"Right," I agreed with an amused smile. "Duh."

I moved down the queue and grabbed two doughnuts from the display, putting them in two separate paper bags.

"Dibs the last one!" Pietro exclaimed as soon as I returned the clippers to the display. He reached around his sister immaturely and bagged the last doughnut.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "You know I can ask for more, right?"

Pietro grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Go on then."

The two were twins, but they couldn't have been more different. I simply revelled in their interaction, finding it adorable.

Wanda did as she said, asking the dinner lady if there were any more doughnuts in the back. Unfortunately for her, those were the last for the day, making Pietro laugh as Wanda pouted.

"Sucks to be you," he teased her, as I paid for mine and Y/BF/N's doughnuts.

"I hate you," she mumbled playfully, but I saw the disappointment in her eyes as he lovingly but annoyingly waved his bag before her eyes.

Without even thinking much of it, I held out one of the bags in my hand. "Here. You can have mine."

Wanda looked to me with surprise. "Are you sure? I can live without a doughnut, if that's what you're thinking."

I chuckled, grabbing her hand and making her take it. "It's okay. I wasn't in the mood anyway."

Plus, you look better when you're smiling and not pouting, I added in my head.

She accepted the bag reluctantly. "I– thanks. At least let me pay for it–"

"It's just a doughnut, Wanda," I teased, before nodding her way. "See you later."

Leaving her and Pietro to it, I headed back to the table Y/BF/N was sat at and took a seat opposite him before giving him his doughnut.

"Sweet," he said, quickly opening the bag before realising I didn't have one. "Where's yours?"

Over his shoulder, I saw Wanda and Pietro taking a seat at their lunch table, doughnuts in hand and a heartwarming smile on Wanda's lips.

"They ran out," I answered Y/BF/N. "Wasn't in the mood anyway. Enjoy."

He shrugged before digging in. I'd like to say I didn't spare glances in Wanda's direction every now and then for the rest of the lunch hour, but I'd be lying if I did.

—

I'm in the art department. You okay to bring it here?

I read over the text Wanda sent me before shooting her an 'okay' and heading to the Art department. I'd grabbed her notebook in class earlier on, only realising as I was studying with Y/BF/N in the library and pulled out an extra one, so I was going to give it her back.

I guess, when you realise you like someone, it comes randomly, suddenly, without warning. Liking someone isn't instant, it's constant and gradual and subconscious. I guess I'd been falling for Wanda for a while, without even realising, but today was the day I acknowledged that fact.

The Art department wasn't somewhere I frequented regularly – give me a paint and brushes and I'd probably present you with a finger painting – but it was definitely worth the visit. Art pieces from current and past students were hung on the walls, a mural of the school was spray painted on another, and sculptures stood around. The whole department brought a smile to anyone's face with its bright colours and open space – I could see why Art students always hung out here, Wanda included.

Speaking of Wanda, I found her in one of the classrooms sat at a stool in front of a series of canvasses. The room had a few other Art students littered around, working on their own pieces during their lunch period, otherwise it was empty.

"Hey," I called, getting her attention as I approached her.

She followed my voice and straightened up with a cheery smile. "Y/N, hey. Thanks for coming. I'm working on my Art project, so I couldn't pull myself away."

I waved my hand dismissively, joining her side. "It's all good, don't worry." My eyes wandered to the series of canvases on easels she was working on and widened. "Holy shit, these are so good."

Three unfinished hyperrealistic portraits of people were before us, one whom I recognised as Pietro. The paintings were so detailed, despite their medium-size, and I couldn't imagine how long they must have taken.

"You think?" she asked, glancing between them. "I think I messed up the nose here." She pointed with the back end of her paintbrush to the nose of Pietro. "It's a bit bent."

I almost laughed as I looked to her with disbelief. "Are you kidding? Wanda, these are amazing. How did you even do this?"

She looked down bashfully, a nervous smile on her lips. "I don't know. It's for a project. I chose to do family portraits." She pointed to each one as she said, "My mum, my dad and my brother."

I was in awe of her talent, jaw dropped with amazement still. I always knew she was an artist, but I'd never actually seen her work. I was starting to wish I'd come here a lot sooner.

"So, you got my notebook?" she asked, pulling me back into reality.

I looked away from the paintings reluctantly before getting her notebook from my bag and holding it out for her. As she accepted it, she must have forgotten she was holding her paintbrush as the tip brushed my wrist, leaving a swipe of red there.

"Oh, my bad," she said with a laugh, before setting her notebook and brush down and grabbing a paper towel from beside her.

Wetting it with water from her bottle, she pressed it to my wrist and swiped the paint away. It was such a mundane action, but the way her fingers gently held my wrist and emanated a warmth only she seemed to carry sent shivers down my spine.

I glanced up at her, letting her do it, and noticed the swipe of paint she had across her cheek, as if she'd touched her face without realising.

Now that I paid attention, I noticed how cute she looked in her Art getup. An old, oversized shirt covered in paint was being worn to cover her clothes, sleeves loosely rolled up to her elbows. Her long hair was tied back into a ponytail, but her baby hairs framed her forehead adorably.

When her hair wasn't in her face, her eyes only seemed more intense, glistening with excitement and happiness. I almost forgot to breathe when they met mine briefly, a hint of embarrassment there from when cleaning me up. She was in her element here and it made sense to me now.

I knew I'd fallen for her.

—

"You don't get it," I was saying to Y/BF/N as we hung about the school gym, waiting for the teacher to start the lesson. "It's bad. I like her. Like, like like her."

Y/BF/N laughed, clapping me on the back with pity. "You're screwed."

I frowned. "I know."

As he stretched for class, he continued, "I mean, I get it, I do. She's super nice. Pretty. And you guys seem to get on."

I chewed on my lower lip worriedly.

He gave me a knowing look. "There's one problem though."

I groaned, running a hand down my face. "I know, I know. She's got that dick of a boyfriend."

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

I sighed, crossing my arms with annoyance. Since realising I liked Wanda as a little more than a friend, things weren't going well for me. Whenever we worked together, I'd forget what I was thinking because I was too busy admiring her side profile or getting lost in her eyes. If she spoke about the work, told a joke or was simply speaking her thoughts aloud, I'd focus on every little thing she was saying, knowing I could listen to her speak all day. It was bad, but thankfully I hadn't stumbled over my words or made a total fool of myself in front of her. I was determined to not let it get that far.

My eyes wandered around the gym as Y/BF/N tried to give me advice, but admittedly, his words flew in one ear and out the other when I caught sight of Wanda.

She was standing with her friends, smiling and laughing to whatever they were saying. Like everyone else in here, she was wearing her gym kit – black athletic shorts and a blue and white tee shirt, the colour of our school. It wasn't anything special, yet she made it seem that way, outdoing anyone in here. Her brown hair was tied back, the ponytail falling down her back, showing her stunning profile and making my mouth go dry.

Another clap on the back from Y/BF/N pulled me from my reverie and I looked to see he was laughing at me.

"Majorly screwed," he corrected his previous comment.

He was definitely right.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu #wanda maximoff au #Spotify

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Note

Do yiu want to maybe write a lil smth about big dick daddy and his strength.... pleasd and thank u ❤️🥵

Okay hun just a quick headcannon might not be exactly what you were after but porn is ponr 🤷‍♀️ 😘😘

Warnings: smut, nsfw, size difference, toys, car sex, exhibitionism, daddy kink, filth

You bent forward with the slightest of winces, this probably wasnt the best idea to use this particular toy when you had yoga class.

Today was henry's birthday, you were going to skip class but sadly he had a meeting this morning and had insisted on you coming to class.

You really should of stuck to your guns and stayed home

But it was to late now, you were here in the middle of class, this time at the back becuase you were nervous about anyone seeing it through your leggings.

You had a surprise for your sweet boyfriend, it had taken a few days of prep work but you were on the final stage

You see there was an issue in the bedroom. He was ridiculously endowed... like seriously before meeting him you rolled your eyes at that whole 'i can see it in her guts' porn cliche that men tried to boast about.

Not anymore. Nope, it was definitely a thing.

You were thankfull he was strong enough and could lift you with his arms and make you 'hover' as he drilled you mindful of just how much he fed your needy but small pussy.

You could never take him fully and although he never minded it got to you. You wanted to be good for him, to give him everything. And take everythig!

So you decided to get a set of plugs to help... loosen you a tad, it was more a length issue then a... girth?

You were on your second day of your biggest toy and it was strange streaching and doing yoga with the toy rubbing your tender walls.

It was down right torturous!

You heaved in relief as the teacher wrapped up the class and bolted outside needing to get home and cool off

The beep of a horn called you across the road to where henry was waiting in the car.

You crossed the road quickly opening the door throwing your bag behind the passenger seat and climbed in "Ah~fucking fuck!"

Henry froze and cast you a strange look as you bit your lip and shuddered as your ass met the seat...

That didnt make sense? You hadnt been spanked for a few days

"Babe? You okay? Did you pull something?" He asked slowly concern creasing his brow

"I wish, no no i- lets go, i need to get back and chill... need a fucking shower you cringed, you really did, not just to cool down either.

"Okay if your sure" he said pulling away from the curb.

During the ride home he kept a close eye on you, noting the soft mewls and panting... especially when he let the car over rev a little, trying to help with the battery which had been playing up recently.

"Babe your going red, have some of your drink" henry said half way home nodding to your bag behind the seat.

"Yeah.. okay" you hummed unclipped your seat belt, holding the bottle would give you something to do with your hands, take the temptation of slipping you fingers to your crotch as the car vibrated the plug.

You moved leaning over the center console and cralwed back bending over reaching your bag. Unknowingly presenting the little bulging base of the plug in your pussy

"No fucking way!?" Henry growled doing a double take as he saw the little tell tale bump

Before you could ask what he meant a hugge hand came up landing over your slit in a light spank making you moan

"Oh god~ hen!?" You moaned and tried to reverse back into you sea but henrys hand remained on the end of the plug and wriggled it side to side sending you into a chorus of wanton moans

"Baby girl? You wore a plug to yoga?" He laughed enjpying the way you collapsed over the centre console

He moved repositioning his arm to rest his elbow and fore arm on your back fingers slipping under the leggings and following the creas of your ass to the wet pussing lips wrapped around the plug.

"Hen- daddy! Noo let me up!" Ou protested not likejng being bent over in the car for the world to see it they wished!

"Oh hush, we're almost home! Its nothing you dont deserve your naughty girl!" He teased clasping the plug and slowly began thrusting the toy in and out

"Oh gos! Listen to that~ such a messy girl? All drenched and slippy~" you mewled and began panting unable to stop rocking back.

"D-daddy please! Not in the car!"

"So yours embarrassed being caught with your toy in the car, but not your yoga class?-pfft yoga all those streches must have been fun baby girl~ tell me what was your favourite? Is this a naughty little secret?" He spoke cheerfully amused by the predicament youd got yourself in

"No-no i didnt mean it! Daddy its not like that!"

"No? Then why do you have this in your little pussy babygirl?" He asked genuinely curious

"Its for you daddy! For your birthday! I made'em bigger so you can... all in..." you stuttered as he began fuckingnyou faster. But he stopped at your comment

"You've been getting yourself ready so daddy can fuck you deeper?" He said out loud as he managed to pull the car into the drive thanking god this was an automatic.

Cy-yeah! Please-Ugh daddy!?" You cried as with a quick flick of his hands your leggings were at your knees and the plig was pulled free.

He whistled low when he saw just what your stuffed yourself with... definitely longer then anything else he'd seen you use before.

You moaned as he left you needy on the edge.

He didnt waist time just feeling hos wet and horny you were had him fully erect already.

He ditched the plug on the passenger seat paying no mind to your yells of 'is gonna stain!'

Deft fingers latched onto your hips as he pulled himself free.

"God your such a good girl~ so precious" he purred before hoisting you to straddle him and without hesitation impaling you on him fully.

"F-Fuuuck! Daddy it oh god!" You groaned feeling him press you down onto his thighs tightly grinding hissing through his teeth.

"Fuck! Fuck thats-god your so hot! So tight babygirl~" you whined as your leggings at your knees was stretched across his chest pressing your legs high and spread like a resistance band holding you open to him

"Ah daddy ! Please! Fuck please move!" You cried for him to fuck you despite being on top.

He chuckled heeding you and held your waist tightly before lifting your, bobbing you up and down on him.

He grunted straightening his legs into the foot well and moved you faster, just like he would a fleshlight useing your body as his own toy, only this time you were accepting him entirely.

His head rested on the head rest and he moaned louder widening his thighs reveling in the feel of your ass beuching his balls as he drove deeper.

You panted moaning and wriggling squirming in his grasp as he used you properly for the first time.

You fought him as things got too much, but it was no use, he had clamped his hands on you and was too lost to give any wiggle room. You loved it!

Then finally with a huge growl and roar he tugged your hips to his in bruisong thrusts markingnyou with his fingers as he plundered you in the last few thrusts

Bringingnyou high enough you feared oud hit to roof of the car.

Just as quickly as he'd taken you he finished locking you to his lap pressing as far as he could into your body floddjng your jnsides sendingnyou into your own orgasm

You flexed and kicked your entire body trembling and fighting as he held you still feedinnyour cunt as much as he could.

"Fuck! Fuck that- why has it taken this long to try car sex" you panted slowly coming down from your high.

"I dont know, but fuck if that wasnt the best quicky we ever had"

"Beats the public bathroom" you agreed

"Hands down... soo round two?"

"Inside... i can hear kal barking" you uttere flushing tipping your head hearing the bear belting out the song of his people

"Good shout..." henry chuckled

"Henry... happy birthday" you uttered

"Thank you... it's best present ever... how long you been wearing them?"he said nodding to the plug that had left an embarrassing puddle onnthe leather.

"Only a week" you shrugged leaning over grasping the plug.

"Used to it then?" He quipped staringm off in thought

"Yeah pretty much... why?" You answered anxiously

"I expect this as my very own homecoming treat from now on babygirl... do you understand princess?"

"Yes daddy~ comemon lets go inside i want round two!" You giggled nodding to him excitedly. You don't mind the inconvenience of plugs if it gives you mind blowing sex

"I thought this was my present?" He pouted sweetly at how excited you were for his present

"You gonna say no to round two daddy?" You teased prodding his chest the little sweat patch on the grey tshirt making your mouth water, you couldn't help it you were far too gone.

"of course not! Lets get your cuffs out!" He laughed patting you ass prompting you to climb off of him and crawl back to the passenger seat and redress.

#henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #oh for fic sake headcannon #oh for fic sake ask #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic

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ghostly-cabbage · 3 years

Text

Party In The Graveyard (Shiptember 2021 : Drunk)

It’s a day late but heres the Danny x Wes fic I wrote for @ghostgothgeek ‘s Ship Event!! Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Language, Underage Drinking, Mild Suggestive Themes Additional Tags: Post-Reveal, Aged Up Characters, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Getting Together

Summary: So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay? This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea. Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class. And it's just getting better and better. Why? Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in.

Or a fic in which Wes sees Danny getting shitfaced and says, "Is anyone else gonna take care of him, or?" and then doesn't wait for an answer.

Words: 6,233

Ao3

“I take back all my poor words. Talk is cheap, but my mind is rich When I close my eyes You grab my wrist, And pull me in to your cold dead lips”

So, here’s the thing; Wes never wanted to have a fucking house party, okay?

This was all stupid Kyle’s stupid idea.

Kyle isn’t even in highschool anymore. He graduated last year. But he invited his whole college freshmen class, and just about everyone from the senior Casper class.

And it's just getting better and better.

Why?

Because about half an hour ago, Danny Fucking Fenton walked in.

He walked in like he owned the goddamn place and the reaction went through everyone like a Whoop—like some kind of synchronized celebration of a miracle.

What, just ‘cause everyone knows he’s Phantom now?

Give him a fuckin’ break.

Currently, Wes is standing adjacent to the fridge, nursing a god-awful drink Kyle shoved into his hands before disappearing back into the throng.

Lighten up, bro, he’d said.

Yeah.

Sure.

The music pounds through the house—a heart beat—a fucking jack-hammer.

People talk and yell and spill their drinks on just about every surface that can stain.

A cheer goes up from the dining room and he rolls his eyes.

He slams his drink and focuses on the outdated calendar on the side of the fridge to keep from shuddering. It makes his mouth water, burns the whole way down and Jesus, seriously, what the fuck did Kyle put in this?

He throws his cup at the overflowing trash can.

His cheeks feel warm, but not even a buzz touches the wound up feeling in his chest.

He passes through the dining room, stops to watch Danny and Dash shotgunning sixteen ounce Mike’s Harder cans. From the looks of the table, they've already gone a few rounds.

Danny finishes five whole seconds before Dash. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crushes his can.

“Slowing down already, Baxter?” he says, a smug grin plastered across his face. His shoulders are slumped and he talks just a bit too loud.

Dash finishes his and tosses it over his shoulder, which—cool. Fucking nice, what, does he think they have a fucking maid?

“In your dreams, Fenton. We're just getting warmed up. No way I'm getting out-drank by a twig like you, half-ghost or not.”

“Guess we’ll see.” Danny shrugs. He talks like he’s one of those people, has always been one of those people.

Wes rolls his eyes and is just about to slip out of the room when—

“Ohhh shit! If it isn’t the one and only Wesley Weston!”

Fucking hell.

He turns and levels as unimpressed of a look as he can manage at Danny.

“Imagine that. It’s almost like I fucking live here.”

Danny swipes up a plastic cup and then proceeds to walk through the table towards him. People act like they’re finding out all over again.

“Oh come on, Wes. You’re not still mad are you?” He comes up to him and slouches against the archway’s frame.

Wes scrapes his tongue along his teeth. “Mad? What could I possibly be mad about?”

Danny looks at him like a puzzle.

When he talks his voice is quiet, hard to hear over the music. “I dunno, the fact that you knew all along but no one ever listened? They thought you were crazy and you weren’t but no one's even said sorry?” His lips quirk up at the corner and Wes can smell the artificial black cherry dancing on the top of the alcohol in his breath.

He wrinkles his nose and it has nothing to do with the smell.

“I was being facetious, prick.”

Danny smiles bigger, and his eyes glitter, something doe-eyed.

“Right. So you are still mad?”

He pushes air through his teeth.

“Not like it matters,” he says, looking away from Danny, drifting over the room. “Where’s your chaperones? Weird to see you anywhere alone.”

Danny just stares at him for a few seconds before understanding sparks.

“Ah. Sam’s got a family thing. Tuck took a closing shift.” He waves a hand and his head lolls against the wall with a thunk. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a swig.

Everything about him looks heavy. It’s weird for Danny.

“Have you tried the jungle juice your brother made?” he says. “It sucks. You’ve gotta try it.”

Wes lifts a brow and crosses his arms over his chest.

“How many’ve you had?”

Danny looks down into his cup, swirls its contents. It’s silent for several seconds too long.

“I’m not really sure, honestly. Didn’t know I was supposed to keep count.”

Wes slides a hand down his face.

Jesus Christ.

“Listen, maybe you should slow down—”

“Yo! Fenton! Stop flirting with Wes and fucking get over here, we’re not done.” Dash calls across the room and—

Flirting?!

They weren’t fucking flirting.

What the fuck.

Wes’s face heats up far beyond the liquor in his veins.

Danny looks up and flashes Dash a thumbs up. And then Danny is even closer—grabbing his arm. The chill of his hand goes right through to his stomach.

“Hey,” he breathes, “come watch me outdrink Dash.”

“Why would I wanna do that?” He ignores the way his breath flutters in his lungs, the way he feels light all the way to his toes.

Danny smiles like what he’s about to say is a secret—like it’s just for him, and all of a sudden Wes wants to be as far from Danny as humanly possible.

“Isn’t watching Dash lose at something for once reason enough?”

Wes forces himself to keep breathing and he swallows.

“Fine,” is all he can force out and then Danny is dragging him towards the table. He ignores all the people looking at them.

The fragmented group of A-listers cheer again and Dash slams a bottle of Fireball onto the table, making people's drinks jump and slosh.

“Let’s kick it up a notch, shall we?” he says, grin just shy of evil.

“Where’d you get that?” Wes asks.

Dash cocks a brow. “Paulina found it? Duh.”

God, Kyle really wasn’t joking about getting people fucked up.

Wes is not going to clean up anyone’s puke this time. This shit is all on Kyle.

“Dude, is it even cold?” Danny asks.

“No, it wasn’t in the freezer long enough,” Paulina says. She’s drinking from a champagne flute for some fucking reason. He didn’t even know they had those.

“Gimme that,” Danny says, swiping it from Dash. “No way in hell I’m drinking warm whiskey.”

His eyes glow blue, and when he breathes out its a thin vapor. Frost creeps over the glass and Wes can’t help but shiver.

“Dude, fucking wicked. I’m still not over this,” Dash breathes, clapping his hands together.

How could Wes forget that Dash is Phantom’s number one fanboy after all?

But Danny isn’t looking at Dash—he’s looking at him.

Only it’s different this time. Because before it was always a taunt, blatantly rubbing it in Wes’ face when he used his powers and no one else noticed.

But the way Danny is looking at him now… like he’s waiting for something, thinking about something.

Danny hands back the Fireball and his eyes slip away from Wes and he feels like a fish wrenched from water.

What the hell was that?

“Fuck yeah, Fenton.” Dash unscrews the whiskey, flicks the cap off the mouth with a finger, sending it flying. He pours directly into their cups, the liquid glugging through the frosted neck of the bottle.

“Two shots of vodka,” someone says and everyone laughs.

“No chasers?” Danny asks, eyeing his cup.

Dash puts down the Fireball. “What’s the matter, you scared of the burn?”

“Not a chance,” he says, and holds out his cup to Dash. They cheers each other and then they’re throwing it back.

It sinks in his stomach like a rock. There’s no way this ends well.

It’s on the sixth round of Fireball that Dash starts to look green. He sets down his cup and leans on the table. He stares at the clear storage container of jungle juice and Kwan comes up beside him, pats his arm.

“Dude, maybe you should call it.”

“I’m fine, ‘s fine…” His words slur together. He tries to stand up straight and Kwan and Paulina both have to keep him up right.

Danny laughs. “Not lookin’ great, Baxter,” he says, his own words falling sluggishly from his mouth. Danny goes to lift his cup to his lips again and Wes puts his hand over it.

“Nope. You two are done.”

“Come on, Wes. Don’t be a buzzkill. I’m good!” Danny says. “Dash is the one that lost!” He flings his hand towards Dash and knocks the Fireball over, spilling it all over the table.

The group all crows at once, a choir of “oh shit” “nice one” and “duuuude noooo”’s. A few people rush to grab their phones from harm's way.

Danny blinks at the table. “Oops,” he says.

A smile splits his face and he starts chuckling. It builds from him, a laugh, something outside of him—beyond him.

He laughs until he’s doubled over, holding onto Wes to keep himself stable.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’ve had more than enough.” He grabs Danny’s cup from him before he can spill that too and drinks it himself. The cinnamon burns through his sinuses and he shudders. Ugh.

Danny straightens and sways just a bit, stumbling into him—their faces inches apart.

“Hey, that was mine,” he says, voice twisted in a pout. “Not cool.” His breath is cold, thick with the smell of whiskey.

Wes feels frozen, feels like he can’t breathe.

His heart pounds in his chest and he prays Danny isn’t so close he can feel it.

Around them the choir starts again, a chorus of suggestive “ooo”’s. He can feel their eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl.

Fucking dammit, this is all Fenton’s fault.

He pushes Danny away from him. Not fast or rough, just to arms length. He coughs.

“Star, you should go to the kitchen and get them both some water,” he says.

She gives him an annoyed look.

“I don’t see you doing anything else,” he snaps.

“I’m drunk too, you know,” she says, but gets up and leaves towards the kitchen.

Paulina and Kwan coax Dash into a chair, and he puts his head down on the table, groaning. A few others are sopping up the Fireball with paper towels.

Danny sags in his grip, goofy smile still plastered all over his face.

“I’ve never been drunk before, this is awesome,” he says.

Wes rolls his eyes, and maneuvers Danny into a chair. His head lolls back and he stares at the ceiling for a second before perking back up and trying to go for someone else's cup.

“Dude, I’m serious.” Wes moves the cup out of his reach. “Quit while you’re ahead.”

Danny groans, sinking down in his chair like he’s boneless.

“Come on, Wes,” he says. “You think I don’t know my own limits?”

“You just said this is your first time being drunk.”

Danny blows a raspberry.

Star walks back into the room and hands Wes a glass of water and then slides one across the table at Dash.

“Here. Wanna drink? Drink this.”

“Ugh, fine,” he says.

He’s a few swigs into it when he stops.

“God, it’s hot in here. Is anyone else hot?” And before anyone can answer his eyes glow that bright blue and a chill works through the air, plummets the temperature.

“Danny—” Goosebumps rise over Wes’ skin and his breath fogs from his mouth.

At varying levels of exasperation, the people around cry out.

“Dude, cut that out,” he says, smacking Danny’s arm.

“Ow, why are you hitting me?”

“Because you’re being a pain in the ass.”

Danny looks at him, blinks heavy eyelids. He smiles.

“What.”

“Nothing, you just… You’re cute when you’re all annoyed sometimes.”

The ground feels like it opens up underneath him.

His thoughts screech to a stop. It smells like burnt rubber, like cinnamon and black cherry.

It’s just the alcohol. No fucking way Danny of all people would say that to him.

“You really are drunk,” he says, but his voice sounds off kilter.

Across the house the last song fades out and Usher’s Yeah comes on. People scream and cheer.

“Holy shit, I love this song,” Danny says and stands up. He sways and catches himself on the edge of the table, starts laughing again. “Whew, that was close. The spinning is normal, right?”

Fucking Christ, how did he end up on babysitting duty again? He rubs his temples.

Is he really about to do this?

“You should lay down.” He heaves a sigh. “Come on.”

“Jeez, Wes, that's pretty forward,” Danny says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Heat flashes through him.

“Would you just shut up,” he hisses. “And stop making it cold. Jesus.”

Danny snorts and when he moves from the table he wobbles. Wes grabs him before he topples and slings Danny’s arm over his shoulder to keep him up.

Danny leans into him, almost unbalances them.

“You got a problem with the cold, Wes?” he says, this time his cold breath is against the side of his neck. It sends chills down his spine.

“I don’t have to help you, you know,” he says, voice thick. “You can get alcohol poisoning for all I care.”

“You’re a bad liar, Wes.”

Wes yanks Danny along beside him and out of the dining room.

“Shut up, Danny. You’re drunk.”

He hauls Danny past the living room and the knot of people dancing and singing. A few call out to them, ask them to come have fun. He steers them away before Danny can pull away and join them.

“But I wanna have fun, Wes,” he whines.

“Dude, you can’t even stand without my help right now, you really wanna try dancing?”

“Dance with me, then.”

Wes stops. He looks over at Danny and…

He—

He blinks, shakes his head.

“No, not—not right now,” he mumbles.

“There’s a whole reason I came alone, you know,” Danny says.

“What, so you could get fucked up and no one would stop you?”

“Yeah! I mean… well, that’s part of it.”

Wes guides them towards the stairs, ignoring the looks.

“Your house is bigger than it looks from the outside,” Danny says.

“Thanks?”

“Mmhm.”

God. This is so not what he thought tonight was going to be like.

“Where are we going?” Danny asks.

“Somewhere you can lay down and sober up.”

“Tha’s not vague.”

Wes starts pulling Danny up the staircase. The second floor is dark, and he gropes around to hit the light.

The first few steps are fine, which is to say the next steps aren’t fine.

What he’s saying is that Danny says, “oh shit.”

And then he’s falling—pulling Wes down with him.

More accurately, Danny trips and pulls Wes down on top of him.

They end up in a heap and Danny groans like someone does when they fall on the fucking stairs.

“Ow.” He reaches for the back of his head. Then he’s laughing, like it's the funniest goddamn thing in the world, what just happened. His face screws up, the face of someone who doesn’t know he’s in pain, just pretending.

“Seriously?” Wes snaps. His shin smarts—must have hit it on the stairs.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs each syllable. “You good?”

“No, I’m not—” And he looks down and he realizes how close they are. Realizes the way Danny’s hair falls into his face, the light catching the slope of his jaw.

Danny quiets at the same time and it’s like they get stuck there. Like nothing else exists other than this staircase and this moment and the way Danny feels cool and solid like a summer night underneath him.

“Hey,” Danny says—sounds almost breathless. “Come here often?”

Wes rolls his eyes and just like that the moment is over.

“Ugh.” He pushes himself up, detangles himself from Danny.

Danny reaches for him, that stupid smile back on his face.

“Oh come on, Wes,” he says.

“Quit messing around, dude.”

Danny pushes himself up, runs a hand through his hair and Wes tracks the motion with his eyes against his best wishes.

“You’re so mean. I could have a concussion and this is how you treat me?”

Wes stands up and straightens his clothes. “You’re fine.”

Danny gives him a look and then something sparks in his eyes. “I’m going to text Sam and Tucker and tell them how mean you are to me.”

Psh. He says that like they don’t already hate him.

“Would you just get up?”

“These stairs are actually kinda comfy,” he says, head rolling back, sinking back down and closing his eyes. “I think I’ll just stay here.”

Wes kicks his leg.

“You can lay down in the room. Get up.”

Danny heaves a sigh, throws an arm over his eyes.

“Fiiinnneee.” He pulls himself up by the handrail, stops in a sitting position. “Jesus,” he says, voice just above a whisper. His breathing gets weird. It makes Wes pause.

“You okay?”

“...Spinning,” Danny breathes. He’s quiet for a bit, and Wes just lets him sit there. Danny holds his head in his hands for a while.

Worry creeps into the back of his mind. Maybe Danny wasn’t kidding about the concussion thing. Maybe he should get someone—

Then Danny is standing up and Wes steadys his other arm.

“I got you,” he says. “Feeling okay?”

Danny sends him a weak smile. “Yeah. Laying down does sound good though," he mumbles.

They make it up the rest of the stairs, and Danny leans against the wall as Wes opens the door to his room.

It’s dark and quiet inside and he flips on the light.

He helps Danny in, and he flops face first onto his bed. He groans and rolls over.

“I’m thinking those last few shots of Fireball were a bad idea…”

Wes snorts and closes the door softly behind him.

“Oh, just the last few, huh?”

“I was havin’ fun, smartass,” Danny grumbles.

Wes leans back against his dresser and crosses his arms. “I said you should have stopped but noooo, no one listens to Wes.”

It gets quiet and he can feel the heaviness in the air. He clears his throat. “If you throw up in my bed, I’m kicking you out the window.”

“I’m not going to throw up.”

“Famous last words, Fenton.”

“Shaddup,” Danny says, and it gets quiet.

Wes can feel the bass from the music through the floor, the muffled sound of singing, laughing, talking. He’s used to ducking out at parties early. He’s used to laying in bed and listening to the songs through the walls until the voices slowly fade and the house is empty again. He listens to Kyle stumble up to bed and knock into the walls and yell “I’m okay” when he does.

He’s not used to having… company.

Danny sits up like a puppet on too few strings. He makes a frustrated noise.

“It’s still hot,” he sighs.

“It’s the alcohol, dude.”

Danny runs his hands over his face, and then reaches back and starts pulling his hoodie off. It drags his shirt up with it and Wes can’t help but look. He looks at the multitude of scars staining Danny’s skin and the way his muscles move over his ribs and—he pulls his gaze away and studies the floor instead.

“This is your bedroom, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t look how I thought it would.”

Wes wrinkles his nose. “How'd you think it would look?”

Danny takes his time looking around the room, hoodie pooled in his lap, before he looks at Wes and gives a boneless shrug.

“I dunno. More,” he holds his hands up, splays his fingers, “raah!”

“I… don’t know what that means.”

“You know! Like… newspaper-clipping red-web on all the walls,” Danny says, smile creeping back.

Wes squints at Danny. He pushes off his dresser.

“That’s still all you think of me?” He picks a pillow from his bed and throws it at Danny’s face. Danny lets out a yelp.

“Besides, I took all that shit down when the truth came out anyway,” he says, trying and failing to keep the inkling of a smile from his voice.

Danny looks at him blankly for a second before he starts to smile again.

“Wait, was that… Did you just make a joke?”

Wes snorts.

“You did! Holy shit, Wes has a sense of humor, this is bigger news than my shit. I gotta tell everyone.”

Danny looks soft, sitting like this in the middle of his bed, eyes warm in a way Wes didn’t realize they could be.

Something in him loosens.

“Good luck getting people to believe you…” he says.

“Oh, how the turn tables,” Danny says, and for a bit all they do is smile at each other.

Danny looks away first, he glances up at the light and squints.

“You got a light that isn’t so fuckin’ bright?”

“I thought the light sensitivity was supposed to happen the morning after drinking.”

“You’re full of jokes tonight.”

Wes rolls his eyes and flips on the bedside lamp and then shuts off the overhead light.

Danny hums and flops back down. “Better,” he says.

It’s silent for a few beats and Danny lifts his head to look at him. He smacks the comforter a few times with a flat hand.

Wes blanches; he’s all too aware of himself, of Danny and the dim light and the closed door.

“Dude, chill,” Danny says, like he can read his mind—wait, he can’t actually do that, right? Ghosts can’t do that?

“Sit down or something. You just standing there watching me is creepy,” Danny says.

Wes swallows his own heartbeat, shakes his head. “Seriously, between the two of us, I’m not the creepy one.”

“Says the stalker.”

“I didn’t stalk you.”

Danny gives him a look, with raised eyebrows and everything.

Wes sits on the side of the bed, scoots back so he’s leaned against the headboard.

“I was… investigating.”

Danny laughs. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say,” and his voice is like smoke—hickory and rough but winding through the air like silk.

They fall into an amiable silence, cotton soft, but cold. Danny has an arm over his eyes again, and his breathing is so slow it’s hard to pick out from the music downstairs.

He rakes a hand through his hair and takes out his phone. He unlocks it and scrolls mindlessly for a while.

He can’t focus.

Not with Danny so close like this. Not when everything is different now. His mind drifts off and he tries to keep track of every breath, wonders if he’s fallen asleep—

“Hey, Wes.”

He jumps. Just a little bit.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

He puts his phone down.

“...For what?”

“For making everyone think you were crazy.”

Wes twists his hand in his comforter. Why the hell is Danny apologizing to him? After everything he’s done to him… tried to do to him. It gets stuck in his throat.

“It’s… You don’t have to—” he wishes he’d had a few more drinks.

“Nah. I do. Looking back, I didn’t handle you knowing very well.”

He chews on his lip. He’s never felt so out of place.

“Danny…”

Danny moves his arm and looks up at him and his courage almost shrivels.

“I’m the one who should apologize. Not you. I—” He balls his hands into fists. “What I did, trying to basically out you, that wasn’t… that wasn’t okay.”

“You didn’t know the whole situation.”

“Did I need to? It was still fucked up and. I’m sorry. I was so wrapped up in wanting to be right that I didn’t care what it could have done to you.”

It feels like glass coming up from his throat.

He’s lost sleep, engraved in the ceiling all the ways he fucked up, all the times he's glad now that no one listened to him. His eyes feel hot and there’s no way in hell he’s going to fucking get emotional in front of Danny.

“It all worked out in the end,” Danny says. He says it easy, gentle. “You were still technically right, though, so… There’s that.”

Wes huffs. “Yeah. I guess.” He fights through all the mess. “I don’t know how this didn’t happen sooner though. You were terrible at hiding it.”

Danny props himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude, I'm a great liar.”

Wes leans his head back on the headboard. “Sure, but you’re reckless as hell. How many times did you stick your arm through your locker in front of God and everyone?”

Danny smiles wide and bright.

“Honestly, after a while, it was just fun to see how far I could go before anyone noticed.”

Wes can’t help but chuckle. “Pretty far, obviously.”

“No kidding.”

Wes runs his palms over his jeans.

“You’re good though, right?” Wes looks anywhere but Danny. “At home and all that.”

“Oh. Yeah. It was, uhm, a lot for my parents. But we’re getting there.”

“Good… That’s good.” The words feel sharp and blocky, and he doesn’t know what else to say. What else can he say?

His buzz pulls away from him, pulls him down, makes his lids heavy.

“How do you think Dash is doing?” Danny says.

“Pf. If he isn’t hugging a trashcan right now, I’ll be shocked.”

Danny laughs.

Wes leans over onto some of his pillows.

“How are you this okay after drinking all that?”

Danny shrugs. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m feeling it. My guess is something to do with the healing factor ghost shit.”

“Right, makes sense.”

He feels tired and heavy and the darkness at the corners of the room get fuzzier.

“Paulina brought her own champagne glass,” Danny tells him. And he laughs because, who does that?

He rolls onto his back and they stare at the ceiling.

“Are you kidding? Paulina does that, it’s Paulina,” Danny says.

They stare at the ceiling like it’s not a ceiling, like it might become more than just ceiling. Wes imagines it disappearing completely.

Danny likes stars, doesn’t he?

When Danny talks again it’s like he’s far away. An arms length, an atmosphere’s length… he doesn’t know.

Danny says, “sucks that I’m missing the Super Smash Tournament.”

Wes tries to keep his eyes from slipping shut. The bed pulls him like quicksand, the smell of sleep. “Trust me, dude, Kyle always wins anyway.”

Danny says something, something about who he mains or doesn’t main. It becomes all the same, the sluggish rise and fall.

At some point between light and dark Wes decides that he likes the sound of Danny’s voice. He somehow likes that the room is colder than it usually is.

And maybe somewhere between all that he decides some other stuff too.

—

Wes wakes up before Danny. The sun streams in through a gap in his curtains, pooling on the wall and floor.

He doesn’t have a headache, but his neck hurts like hell.

Danny is lying on his side faced away from him and, fuck, thank God. He thinks about last night, about Danny in his arms and he—

He sits up and rubs his hands over his warm cheeks.

Water. He should get some water.

He slips out of his room and goes downstairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet.

Well.

Mostly.

He can hear the sink running and the clink of glass. When he comes around the corner he sees Kyle washing dishes. The house is only half as trashed as he thought it’d be.

Kyle looks up at him as he walks in.

“Morning.”

He grunts, going to pluck a clean glass from the drying rack.

“Hangover?”

“Nah. Slept wrong.” He fills his glass at the fridge and downs it all at once. The water helps wash the sour taste from his mouth. Ugh, he should still brush his teeth.

He fills the glass again and heads back upstairs. He pushes back into his room and when the door creaks he sees Danny jump.

He walks around the bed and offers the glass to a squinting Danny.

“Awake?” he asks.

Danny groans and pushes himself up. His hair is messy, hanging in his eyes. It's infuriating.

He rubs the side of his face and when he takes the cup their fingers brush.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

“We have pop-tarts and cereal and shit downstairs.”

Danny gives him a thumbs up while he drinks.

He wants to ask if he’s okay... He decides to leave it for later.

Wes leaves his room and goes back to the kitchen. When he gets there, he pulls the pop-tarts down from the cabinet.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Kyle says, “if you wanna clean the dining room, I’ll clean the living room.”

“Nope, no. This was your thing, dude. You threw the party.”

“But Wes,” he whines, “Dad’s gonna be home tonight.”

“Then you should probably get started,” he says and claps him on the shoulder on his way to the toaster.

“Dude, cold blooded. You’re just gonna watch me slave away for hours and not even help your own brother?”

“Uh... yeah.” He slots the pop-tarts into the toaster. He turns towards Kyle and leans against the counter, grinning at him.

Kyle gives him a look.

“How much.”

“No. No, I’m not gonna be bought this time.”

“Twenty bucks.”

“Kyle.”

“Fine, you drive a hard bargain. Forty.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“‘This time?’ What happened last time?”

They jump and look at Danny as he comes down the stairs. He has his hoodie slung over a shoulder and the half empty water glass in his hand.

“Holy shit,” Kyle says.

“It’s not important,” he says, sending a glare at the back of Kyle’s head.

Danny walks up to the counter and sets the glass down to pull his hoodie on.

“No fucking way,” Kyle says, voice pitched up. “I didn’t believe it when everyone was talking about it last night, holy shit.”

Danny tugs the hem of his hoodie down and gives Kyle a confused look that he moves over to Wes.

He returns the look, just as lost.

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You two hooking up last night,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious.

It feels like for a second time stops—

Hooking up?

Hooking up?!

His heart skips in his chest and heat rushes to his face and the tips of his ears. He feels like he’s been slapped across the face.

Danny looks like a deer in the headlights.

“Uh—”

The toaster pops.

“Which, can I just say, I totally called it. I knew there had to be another reason Wes was so obsessed with yo—”

“Kyle!” he snaps, his voice higher than he anticipated. “Kyle, oh my fucking god, shut up. We didn’t— Nothing happened last night, we just—”

His breath feels tight in his throat and he wants to lock himself in his room forever. He can’t make himself look at Danny.

“Who the hell told you that-that we—”

“Uh, dude, a bunch of people saw you guys go into your room together. You know Pualina was telling me that Danny was all over yo—”

“Okay! Thank you, Kyle!” he cuts in. “Jesus fucking—” He buries his face in his hands.

This is it, this is how he’s going to die.

“I’m just glad for you two! I mean, like, jeez, finally!”

“Kyle, I’ll help you clean if you shut up right now and never bring this up ever again.”

Kyle stops, face lighting up. “Dude, deal.”

“Cool. Now please leave.”

“What?”

Wes grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him out of the kitchen. “Leave. Go get the cleaning shit from the garage or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see. I get you. I’ll leave you two kids alone to enjoy your breakfast together,” he says with a wink and holy fuck, he’s going to kill his fucking brother.

Kyle heads for the stairs and calls down, “Lemme know when it’s safe to come back down!”

Wes drags his hands down his face. He lets out a slow breath and he tries to ignore his pounding heart.

Wes goes to the nearest counter and puts his head down. The surface is cold against his burning skin. He groans like an injured animal and at this point he really wishes someone would put him out of his misery.

“Well…” Danny says from behind him.

He hears Danny moving and the sound of the fridge being opened. He looks up, watches as Danny takes orange juice from the fridge. When he turns around he sees his face is red too.

“I mean… hardly the worst rumor to get spread around about us,” he says. That stupid smile makes its way onto Danny’s face.

“I once had this dude tell everyone at school that I was a ghost. It was super weird.”

Wes shakes his head. “Dude, shut up.” But he can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips.

Danny laughs, a quieter thing today than it was last night.

“I can have some, right?” he asks, lifting the OJ.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

They fall into silence while Danny pours a glass and Wes goes to numbly retrieve his pop-tarts.

“It’s probably spread through all of Casper now, huh.”

Danny glances at him. Something dances through his expression. He hums as he takes a drink of his juice.

“Uh. Probably further than that, now that everyone knows I'm… you know.” Danny shoots him an uneasy look.

Right. Right.

This was just getting better and better.

He takes a bite of his pop-tart. It crumbles in his mouth like sand.

“Are you… okay?” Danny asks. He reaches back and rubs his neck, and dammit, now he’s just adding insult to injury.

He looks at him, and he sees the nerves in the way he holds himself, stitched into the way the light hits him. He’s not asking just one question.

Wes swallows.

“Yeah… Yeah, I mean, like you said. There could be way worse rumors,” he says. He looks at Danny like he’s too far away, like he enjoyed last night way more than he should have. And he sees it in Danny too, some sort of mirror.

“I think so too,” Danny says, heavy the way he exhales it.

They break eye contact and Wes doesn’t really know what to do, what to say.

“Well, uh. You have cleaning to do, I guess. I should probably get home before my parents get too freaked out.”

Wes nods. “Yeah, probably.” He wonders if Danny knows what’s in his voice. The dark from last night is clouding his mind, pulling him, begging him to just say it.

“Yeah… I’ll, uh, see you at school?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

But Danny doesn't move.

He lingers like a shadow. He looks like he wants to go. He looks like he wants to stay.

“Wes,” he says.

Wes looks at him.

He worries at his bottom lip and moves along the counter towards him.

“Thanks. For last night.”

He lets out a puff. “Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t die the rest of the way from alcohol poisoning.”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were pretty bad.”

“Not even.” Danny smiles.

And they’re close again, sharing each other's space.

“It wasn’t… awful, I guess,” he says before he can stop himself. “Even with you being a pain in the ass the entire time.”

“Maybe we could do it again sometime,” Danny murmurs.

“What, me looking after your drunk ass the whole night?”

Danny snorts. “No, I was thinking more like I match you drink for drink instead,” he says.

“At least then you’d last till the Smash tournament.”

Danny glances away.

“I didn’t mind missing it too much, actually.”

Wes’s breath gets stuck and his heart beats like a drum in his ribcage.

“Really?”

“Yeah…”

In some ways it’s just like last night; Danny’s close enough he can feel the movement of his breath between them.

“It’s way more fun, bothering you.”

It’s a slow motion sort of thing, a hair raising thing.

“Well you’re an expert at it by now.”

Wes thinks about theme parks. Sitting at the top of the sky and just before his stomach drops—

“Always room for improvement. I could get better at it if you want me to.”

And what if he does? What if he wants to see Danny in all the ways he can? What if he wants to know Danny for real this time?

Maybe he wants pictures, proof that it’s real.

Maybe it’s always been leading to this.

Maybe it’s fucked up.

Wes having the power to hurt him all over again.

“Drink for drink?” he says, barely a whisper.

“Drink for drink,” Danny says—closer, closer, breath against his lips.

Danny gives him time to pull away. But Wes doesn’t. Something to do with what he decided last night.

“Prove it.”

#Unidentified Flying Ship #danny/wes #Danny Phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #my writing #DP Shiptember 2021 #drunk prompt #one-shot #wes weston #wesley weston

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justanobsessedfangirl · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Silence - The Maze Runner Newt Imagine

Request from @ausblack: was wondering if you could write a newt x reader where she’s like the new greenie and the only girl. Everyone think she’s mute because she never talked and Newt decides to take care of her since he’s the only one she seems comfortable with. One day another glader attacks her making her scream and for some reason Newt recognizes that it’s her, he gets protective and helps her out. Eventually she speaks her first words to him and they both get together in the end

Masterlist

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Sorry I haven’t posted in...a while. If it helps, you can think of me as a turtle. I’m damn slow and it’s pretty frustrating to wait but I’ll get there in the end! I hope I did this idea some justice because I thought it was pretty cool. Thank you for the request, I’m always open! (just remember the turtle analogy.)

Word Count: 3.6k

You stood in darkness. There was nothing in the darkness except for a quiet hum that rumbled the floor and the walls and the ceiling. It was power, some type of power that was running through this room and making it rise.

You stood in darkness. And you waited.

You weren’t alone, because your fear was so strong it had formed an icy hand, which wrapped around your throat, so tight it was hard to breathe. It took every ounce of your concentration to inhale, and exhale, and inhale again, and all the while the box hummed and rose, and you stood in darkness.

The hum cut off abruptly, the room halting with it. You strained your ears, and, through the loud beating of your heart, you could hear voices. Four heartbeats passed before the roof opened and the room was flooded with light.

You cringed away, raising a hand to block the brightness. Through squinted eyes, you saw boys encircling the room, level with where the roof would have been. Their voices floated down, gasps and shouts of “It’s a girl!”, and the sounds of shoving, bodies against bodies.

You took a step back, but there were boys above you there too. They were everywhere. One jumped down, making the whole box shake, and then you were turning around and around, looking for a break in the boys, a spot you could run through, someone to help, anything, anything, anything--

“It’s alright, love. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You whipped around to face the boy. He had his hands raised, and his eyebrows were knit together in sympathy. He had a kind face, with soft brown eyes.

Even so, any words you had were caught in your throat, caught by fear’s hand, trapped. Trapped, just like you. Your breaths came faster, your heartbeat quicker. Your hands trembled.

Across from you, the boy took a step back and looked up at the others. “Right, all you bloody slintheads need to back up!” He looked at one of the boys closest to the box. “Alby?”

The boy, Alby, nodded, then shouted, “Everyone, back to work!”

The crowd didn’t move. Your heart stopped. Your blood went cold.

Then, with a chorus of grumblings, the mob slowly dispersed. Boys peeled off this way and that, revealing grassy fields and large mountains in the distance. You peered closer. No, not mountains.

Walls.

“It’s a strange story, love, but we’ll tell you all of it,” the first boy said.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the walls.

“I’m Newt. D’you remember your name?”

No. You’d realized in the darkness that you couldn’t remember anything. You felt strangely detached, like you were watching some other girl with no memories who was abducted and brought to a strange place. You felt pity for her. You felt sad for her. And you kept drifting along, only half-listening to the boy next to her, the one who said his name was Newt.

Newt stepped closer. You watched the girl watch him, watched his mouth move, watched the girl take light, careful steps to the edge of the box and climb out. You watched her stumble.

It was the feeling of Newt’s hand on your back, steadying you, that brought you back to reality.

“I’ll take you on the tour, love,” he said to you, pulling his hand back. In a soft voice, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

Your lips parted. Words sat on the tip of your tongue. Are you sure and How do you know and Please be right. And, also, lingering in the back, Thank you.

You swallowed and looked away from Newt.

He started walking. He kept a slow pace, both because of his limp and so he could intermittently point out buildings and people. “That’s Frypan, he’s the cook, and there’s the kitchen. Next to that’s the Homestead. You’ll be sleeping there.”

He spoke with such authority that you wanted to ask what his role in this little society was. If there was a cook, there must be a leader, and you hadn’t seen any adults around. But your tongue wouldn’t move, so all you could do was tilt your head to the side and look at Newt.

He scanned your face, then nodded. “I’m Second-in-Command. Alby’s in charge, but he won’t raise a fuss about you sleeping in the Homestead. We…” Newt ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before making eye contact again. “We haven’t…” He sighed. “You’re the only girl here. We don’t really know how the rest of those shanks will react.” Noticing your instinctive recoil, Newt hastened to say, “But you’ll be okay. Most of these lot are good guys. And the ones that aren’t...Well, they know the consequences. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

There was that fear again, running its hands along your arms, past your shoulders, to your neck. It squeezed painfully around your throat, so painfully that tears threatened to spring up in your eyes. You gave Newt a quick nod and looked away, into the fields he was leading you toward.

He read you like a book and quickly switched topics. “These are the Gardens. When I don’t have other duties, I like to come out here. It’s good work, but it’s also just a good place to be. It’s peaceful.”

A short, round boy darted out of a row of tomato plants, cackling madly. Lumbering behind him was a tall boy with a shock of curly blond hair, who shouted, “Come back here, Chuck!” The younger boy, Chuck, gave no indication that he’d heard. He disappeared back into the plants, with the tall boy following him.

Newt sighed. “It’s mostly bloody peaceful,” he grumbled.

The smallest of smiles twitched your lips up. You forced them back down, reminding yourself that you were scared, that you couldn’t trust anyone here, and that the way Newt grinned down at you did not make you feel safe.

“We’ll have you start working here tomorrow, all right, love?” Newt asked.

You chewed on your lip, staring over the plants. Your eyes landed on the tomatoes, right where the boisterous duo had gone through. Flutters of anxiety filled your stomach.

“I’ll be with you. There won’t be anything to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Besides waking up with no memory, that is,” Newt added.

Your lips betrayed you again. Newt grinned, and the butterflies that had been flying inside your chest slowly started to settle down.

Newt led you through the rest of the Glade. You saw the Deadheads and the Blood House, learned about the various jobs and Keepers, and, through it all, you didn’t say a single word. Newt never pushed you. Instead, he watched for facial expressions. He responded to any tap on the arm or flick of your chin. He lingered in the comfortable silences.

As you sat in your room in the Homestead that night, knowing that Newt was asleep in the next room over, you felt your shoulders loosen, just a little. The fear was still there. It still held your throat tightly in its grasp. But you felt a trickle of hope springing in the cracks.

You woke the next morning to a knock on your door. Opening it, you saw Newt.

“Ready to get to work, love?”

You nodded. The smile you gave him was uneasy and weak, nervous and gone in a flash, but it made Newt’s eyes shine with happiness. He smiled the whole way to the Gardens. Under the shining sun, you weeded plants, hoed new rows, and picked vegetables.

Newt stuck by your side. He explained more about the Glade; all you had to do was point to a person or a place and he’d run through it, even if he’d already explained the other day. A few times, you found yourself picking out things you already knew, just so you could keep hearing his voice.

“And then Chuck convinced Minho and Thomas,” Newt said between laughs. Behind him, the sun sat heavy on the horizon, haloing him in gold. “He convinced Minho and Thomas to take the rest of Gally’s clothes and--” Newt broke off, devolving into laughter.

You hadn’t met Minho and Thomas yet -- they’d been busy in the Maze all day yesterday and in the Runner’s Hut all last night -- but you’d heard a lot about them from Newt by now. You’d also heard about “Captain” Gally, and you figured he probably deserved whatever ended up happening to his clothes.

Beneath the cover of Newt’s voice, you felt comfortable letting out a small laugh. It was the first noise you’d made in the Glade.

Slowly, Newt’s laughter stopped. He stared at you, eyes soft, his lips pulled up in a small, pleased smile. He didn’t say anything.

You looked down at the basket in your hands, trying to stop yourself from blushing.

After a second, Newt said, “Before we go to dinner, there’s one last place I want to show you.” He took the basket from you and handed it off to Zart, the Keeper of the Gardens.

The pair of you headed off towards the far wall, away from the buggy Gardens, the dark woods, and the noisy kitchen, where a hungry horde of Gladers clamored to get their dinner.

“It’s not one of the really important places,” Newt said as you walked, “so I didn’t show it to you yesterday.” His hands swung awkwardly at his sides, as though he wanted to reach one out, maybe to guide you, maybe to hold you, but couldn’t decide whether he should or not. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to or not.

All you did was nod.

Newt continued, “But I think, maybe, it could be good.”

As you neared the wall, you felt your stomach drop at the sheer size. You craned your head back and back and back, trying to see the top, trying to see if any ivy led all the way up. How could there ever be a way out of those walls?

A warm hand touched your arm.

Your head shot back down, eyes landing on Newt’s. The faintest pink burned on his cheeks, a glow from the sunset, maybe, or... You shook the thought out of your mind as he pointed to the wall.

Carved into the wall in front of you were names. Immediately, your gaze landed on Newt’s. Next to his, Alby’s name was done in blocky letters. Thomas and Minho had made their marks. Chuck’s name was squeezed between the two, as he often was in real life, when he’d inject himself into their days. You recognized enough names to figure out that every Glader had been here once and had left a permanent memento of themselves. Some of those mementos, like the ones with a single sharp line running through them, had already outlasted their creators.

“I thought, I don’t know...I thought maybe seeing other names would help you remember yours.” Newt rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground.

Your heart felt warm in your chest. Yearning took over. You reached a hand out, tracing the closest names, looping through the letters, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s. You wanted to remember.

Please remember. Remember for Newt. Remember for me.

You pulled your hand away and pointed to Newt’s side, where his knife was strapped. He unsheathed it out without a moment’s hesitation. When he handed it to you, his fingers brushed over yours and you could swear your heart stopped. You had to fight to keep your composure, especially with the feeling of his intense stare as he watched you carve the first letter of your name into the wall.

You felt, rather than saw, Newt step closer to you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his smile almost took the breath out of you. Your hand stilled as you finished the first letter.

Newt repeated it, sounding almost awed. “Keep going, love.”

Forcing your eyes away from him, you continued carving. Each letter of your name was done with precision, right below Newt’s. It felt fitting to do it there, like he was some guardian angel looking over you, keeping you safe. Being around him made you feel...the English language wasn’t sophisticated enough to describe it. You felt warm. And calm. And the kind of happiness that made your cheeks hurt and your jaw ache, even when you weren’t smiling.

When you finished, Newt said your name, his voice reverent. “Y/N.” He repeated it. He glanced down at you. “Am I saying it right, love?”

He’d gotten closer than you’d thought. His breath nearly hit the tips of your eyelashes. If you moved only a few inches you’d be touching him.

You nodded.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded again. He was so close you felt dizzy. You would’ve agreed to just about anything he said at that point.

“Are you able to speak?”

Your nod was more hesitant this time, slowed by dread for his next question.

“Why don’t you?”

You wanted to look away but his eyes had a hypnotic hold on you. You shrugged half-heartedly. How could you explain that every time you tried to speak your throat closed up? That your mouth went dry and you forgot every word you knew? That your heart started beating erratically, and your palms began to sweat, and it felt like walls were closing in, and you felt the fear again?

Newt nodded. He took a step back, the tension in the air dissolving. Jutting his chin at the wall, he said your name again. A smile crept onto his face. It was that soft, sweet smile that had gotten you through your first days in the Glade.

It got you through the next week, too. A week spent trying other jobs, where your lack of communication proved rage-inducing for a certain captain and ultimately landed you back in the Gardens.

It was rare that Newt wasn’t by your side. Today, though, he and Alby were caught up in meetings with the other Keepers, trying to figure out how to discipline a Glader who’d been making inappropriate comments and trying to instigate fights.

Newt had told you the basics the other day. You hadn’t wanted him to go into detail. He’d seen that on your face and quickly switched to telling you about the first crops they’d tried to plant, which had been such a disaster that the Creators sent up multiple books on farming the next month. The conversation was much lighter from then on.

Being with Newt was so easy. Most of the others pushed you too hard to talk, which only made your throat dry up and your tongue feel like lead. You wanted to talk with them, sometimes, but...you couldn’t get the words out. You couldn’t think of them when it came time to speak. You had a mental block, barricades set up to keep you from feeling too comfortable here. Part of you needed to feel the fear that came with trying to speak. If you stopped being afraid, you’d start getting complacent.

The sound of the Walls grating to a close struck the same feeling in you, even though you were safe in the Gardens, well away from the terrors of the Maze.

“Y/N.” Zart’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Good job today. Some of the other shanks left a bunch of tools out, could you bring them to the shed? I have to track down Chuck.” His normally placid expression morphed into a scowl as he shook his head, his blond mop of hair flopping over his forehead.

You nodded. The two of you split off among the rows, Zart’s cursing fading as you approached a scattering of trowels and rakes.

You pursed your lips in disappointment before stooping down and trying to gather everything. You ended up with two rakes and a hoe tucked under your right arm, a few trowels held close to your chest, and a sharp hand pruner held carefully in your left hand.

Boys.

You huffed as you headed for the shed. It was a crudely constructed building that was made in the first few weeks of the Glade’s existence. You’d heard some other boys say that the first Gladers originally slept here, but Newt hadn’t mentioned it so you weren’t sure how true that was. If they had slept there, you didn’t envy them. It was smaller than your room in the Homestead, which was a far cry from large. You supposed it was in a nice enough location, though; it stood on the edge of the Gardens, close enough to the woods to catch some shade, but not so deep that you were alone.

As you neared the shed, you saw that you actually weren’t alone. A figure paced next to it, head bent low, features hard to make out.

You purposely tried to walk louder as you came closer, hoping you wouldn’t scare him. At the sound of a twig crunching under your foot, his head shot up.

You’d definitely seen him before; he had thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jaw. The bruise forming under one of his eyes was new, as was his now crooked nose. You were pretty sure his name was Connor.

“Y/N,” he said, stilling in his tracks. He made no move to help you carry the tools.

You nodded, gave him a tight smile, and headed for the door. One of the rakes almost slipped from under your arm, but you squeezed it tightly and took a few hurried steps.

Connor crossed in front of you. You veered to the side. His arm shot out and grabbed your shoulder, hard enough to jostle it and send the rakes and hoe tumbling to the ground.

“You think you’re better than me or something?” He was speaking quickly, too quickly, you didn’t have a chance to respond or adjust the trowels that were slipping through your grasp or push him away. In one quick movement, he turned and slammed you into the shed wall. Two trowels dropped. You clutched the rest closer, your breaths turning into nervous pants.

“Is that why you don’t talk? You think you’re better than me? Than us?” Conor loomed over you. He glowered at you, his eyes afire with rage. “Answer me.” He slammed you back again. Your head cracked into the wall and you let out a soft whimper.

“So you can talk.” His grip was vice-like on your shoulders. His nails dug into your flesh like he wanted to tear you apart. “So why don’t you talk? Why don’t you fucking talk?” Again, he slammed you into the wall.

Were you crying? Were you talking? Were you making any noise at all?

Were you even breathing?

“You make this place even harder to be in. We don’t need some fucking mysterious mute bitch when we have to solve the Maze. Don’t you get it? You’re a distraction!” Every few words were punctuated with a slam. The air whooshed out of your lungs in a pathetic cry for help.

You’d never tried harder to talk.

But now there was so much fear in you. Not existential fear -- real, in-your-face danger.

One of Connor’s hands released your shoulder. It ached in relief until his fingers wrapped around your throat and he leaned in close to say, “Fine. Don’t talk.” And he squeezed.

Each second was an eon. Your lungs screamed for air. Blackness lingered on the edges of your vision, closing in, closing in, closing in, leaving only a pinprick of light. Your legs went numb, as if they’d just fallen asleep, and the feeling worked its way up your body, down your arms, to your hands, where the last trowel and the hand pruner were about to fall.

Hand pruner.

You had no more air, you had no more energy, and yet your body was moving and you were thrusting the sharp end of the hand pruner into Connor’s gut.

He let you go with a cry, curling over and holding his stomach. Air rushed into your lungs, only to leave a second later as you screamed, “Help!”

Connor groaned and straightened up enough to launch a clumsy fist at you. You twisted to the side. Your foot caught on a gardening tool, sending you sprawling to the ground, clambering away on hands and knees, still gasping for air.

A wet hand grabbed your ankle. You kicked, connecting with something solid, and yelled out, “Someone help!” The hand left your ankle for a second, then you heard something heavy moving in the grass, and the hand clamped down on your calf.

You tried to wriggle away. People were coming from the Gardens, you could see their black silhouettes as the sun set behind them. You heard your name, shouted by your rescuers and growled by Connor. You kicked at him again. His other hand caught your foot, using you to pull his body further onto your legs.

He was heavy. He slammed a fist into your back, knocking you flat.

“Get off of her!” Your rescuers closed in. They wrenched Connor off and surrounded him. Warm hands, soft hands, gentle hands, helped you stand. Connor’s blood rolled down the backs of your legs.

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, his voice frantic. He held you, his touch like feathers on your arms, as he scanned your body up and down, looking for any injuries. “Is that--” he started to ask, staring at your legs. Mid-sentence, Newt turned away, calling for a Med-jack.

“It’s not mine,” you interrupted him. The words were hoarse and quiet but audible, and Newt whipped back around to face you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

His touch slid down your arms, his hands enveloping your own. “I knew that was you yelling,” he said. His eyebrows lowered and his face grew serious. “I knew it was your voice. I knew it was you, love.”

Words hung on the tip of your tongue. Words you’d meant to say your first day in the Glade. Words you’d wanted to say every day since. Words that you could never get out. “Thank you,” you finally said.

Newt smiled, so wide and so bright that your heart started beating like you were sprinting. “I’ll always be here for you, love.”

The distance between the two of you was quickly fading. “I know you will,” you said, and then, again, “Thank you.” A second later, your lips met. And you felt like thanking him all over again.

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

Text

Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus.

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck.

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled.

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin au #jimin series #bts au #bts series #jimin dance au #bts dance au #jimin e2l #bts e2l

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infernal-fire · 3 years

Text

five types of love.

what to expect: smut, swearing, friends w/ benefits arrangement, mention of Imposter syndrome, fluff, angst, heartbreak, overstimulation, implied creampie, rough sex

a/n: a little warning; you will be choosing your ending - there is a happy one and a sad one. a huge shoutout to @mollygetssherlockcoffee and @angrybirdcr for talking to me about the fic and offering such amazing advice! and @tuiccim was so damn lovely, even offered to beta this (though all mistakes are my own).

summary: you once heard that there were eight types of love. you only knew of five; the five that caused you to fall for one, blue-eyed menace.

Ludus: uncommitted, casual love that can attribute to a flirtatious and fun conquest. Not to be mistaken for Eros.

“I think we’re forgetting the reason why the mission failed in the first place. If the older fellow took a suggestion once in a-”

“-Tony, you know damn well that there were civilians in there.”

Steve and Tony glared at each other from across the briefing room. The tension in the room was exorbitant, but then again, it had been that way since Bucky joined the team.

“This is exactly why we need the new girl. You super-soldiers and billionaires are getting tangled up in each others’ asses and forgetting about what it’s like for the normal people,” Rhodey sighed.

“The last thing we need is another trainee fucking up orders,” Tony snorted and began messing with his tech. The projector flipped through random screens, FRIDAY most likely filtering out the irrelevant news.

“If you have a problem, maybe you should say it to his face,” Steve seethed, now standing up to match Tony’s stance. Usually, this type of jab at Bucky wouldn’t rile him up, but the super-soldier was at his wit’s end following the events of the latest mission.

Beside him, Bucky lightly tugged on his friend’s hand, signalling him to disengage.

“You’re with them?” Tony incredulously questioned Rhodey.

“I’m with the idea of calming this room down.”

“Besides, she’s already been prepped for her first mission,” Natasha piped up. “We’re supposed to have a sit-down in 5 minutes... that is, if you boys can get your shit together.”

The room broke out into a chorus of muttering and everyone settled in their seats again. Captain strode to the front of the room and pulled up his game plan, fiddling with the map FRIDAY was projecting.

You, on the other hand, could not decide how to act in front of the Avengers: Laidback? They wouldn’t take you seriously. Know-it-all? No, that was Stark’s play. Timid Tiffany? If you wanted to seem secretly conceited? Sure. That would work for now.

When Vision floated out to bring you in, you didn’t even flinch at the unforeseen phasing. Impressed at your lack of a reaction, Vision faltered before ever-so-courteously introducing himself.

Could this sentient being laugh of his own volition? You gave him your name and dramatically curtsied to test your theory; he could laugh, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it was not at all robotic.

You felt the room intently eye you as you ambled to your seat beside one, blue-eyed menace. You half-expected the team to introduce themselves, but who were you kidding - anyone could hear the argument from three corridors away. There was no point in pretending like they wanted you here, but that wouldn’t deter you.

You glanced at your neighbour, met with the pleasant face of the one and only. James Buchanan Barnes was known to be a handsome devil, but the reputation of the Winter Soldier often precedes him; that, unfortunately, does not stop you from eyeing him.

When he caught your stare, you scolded yourself. You’re such a creep.

When he smirked at your ogling, you praised yourself. Oh, hello there.

This is gonna be fun.

Eros: sexual, passionate love that is fueled by lust.

It didn’t happen after the first mission; he had the decency to wait until the fourth mission to knock on your door.

You had been putting away the last of your belongings, finally adjusting to the grandiose living conditions the Avengers Tower provided.

As soon as you unlocked your knob, the door flung open; Bucky's stare was partially inhibited by his hooded eyes. He hadn’t always looked at you like that.

Like what?

With unadulterated craving.

That day, he strode in like he owned the place. You didn’t expect the shove that caused you to land on your bed with an oomph. Bucky wasted no time, climbing onto your form, straddling you. By the time you understood what was happening, a single finger was pressed into your lips.

“Either tell me you don’t want this right fucking now,” he leaned in, close to your face, “or shut the fuck up and let me use you.”

You whimpered in response.

“Not good enough.”

“Use me.”

That’s all the affirmation he needed.

You pushed off the bed to try and meet his lips but he firmly pinned you down by your shoulders. Bucky reached into your panties and circled your clit without hesitation. It only took some swivelling, his intense gaze and the unexpected plunge of his fingers in your channel to make you see stars. Bucky had made you come before kissing you.

When he finally slotted his lips against yours, it was nothing short of all-consuming; you hadn’t even realized the absence of clothes on your body. Had it been ten minutes? Or thirty? It was hard to tell when you were being ravaged by another.

He made you come twice more: once with his fingers’ repeated dipping and pressing into the soft, spongy part of your cunt. The second time was with the talented sucking and flicking of his tongue. Technically, it was the third time.

None of your past partners had been this steadfast in their duty to pleasure you. You were already putty in his hands, ready to be moulded according to his needs. Part of you was ready to tap out, unable to fathom the likelihood of coming over his cock again, but the better half of you needed it.

In your orgasmic haze, you failed to notice that his clothes were being discarded - if you did, it would have given you the opportunity to gawk at the body that you so desperately wanted to see shirtless. When you finally registered his naked person, your hand involuntarily traced the connection between the metal arm and flesh. He threw his head back and groaned before kissing you again.

He pulled off, just enough to get a good look.

“Look at you, all fucked out. I didn’t even put my cock in.”

He pumped his shaft with fervour before pushing the blunt head against your slit. You winced at his attempt to put it in.

“Made you cum three times and you’re still too fucking tight,” he muttered and ran his length up and down your folds. Once he had accumulated enough slick he tried again, this time, successful.

You moaned as he slowly sunk in and buried his cock to its absolute limit. If the walls of your pussy had a voice, it would be absolutely hoarse. You also realized that he only bestowed the three orgasms in hopes of reprieving the pain of the stretch. Without the preparation, he might have torn you in half.

When he began moving, the only thing that was slow or soft about him was his lips against your skin. The thrusts were punishing; if it wasn’t obvious that he was angry before, this made it clear as day.

You screamed and moaned, alternating between keening and arching your back; the pleas did nothing to falter his furious pace. The smacking of your skin was only heightened by the slick that your cunt produced in attempts to accommodate his length. Every time he pulled out, his balls were connected to your sex with a string of come.

If someone told you that you could come five times within forty minutes, you would have face painted and dressed them up like a clown.

Now you laid in bed, being used like a rag doll, begging Bucky to stop you from coming a sixth time that session. It was usually the dirty talk that got you off, but he hadn’t said anything aside from the occasional ‘shut up’ or ‘shhh’. His movements alone had you convulsing around his length.

His thrusts didn’t get sloppy. Rather, they increased in force, as his cock sought space beyond your cervix. You tried to scream, but all that came out was more broken tears and cries. At last, he let out a pornographic moan as his load flooded your insides. Sure, you had let past boyfriends come in you, but you never actually felt the liquid shoot up inside you, until today.

Following the pop sound that his cock made as it pulled out, you whined again. You could feel your heartbeat throb down there.

He flipped you onto your stomach and smacked your ass, laughing at the way you sobbed in pain before disappearing from your room altogether.

He was gone as fast as he showed up.

And he ruined everyone else for you.

In all fairness... you asked for it.

Philia: the deep, virtuous love that is formed in a good friendship. Lovers share a strong bond when Eros and Philia feed into each other.

What started as a release from the frustrations that accrue on the battlefield turned into a deep connection that neither of you had anticipated. Sex had only been used as a tool in the act of psychological detachment until that day.

It was a failed date of some sort: either you had been stood up or the guy was a total moron. You could wrack your brain for the memory, but in any matter, it was all irrelevant now.

You were upset, not just at your lack of a love life, but at the imposter syndrome that had weaselled its way into your liveliness. Feeling like you weren’t enough was catching up to your daily life and even Bucky had noticed the hesitation during your post-mission escapades.

Before you knew it, your hand was knocking on Bucky’s door at the ripe hour of 1 AM.

You heard the muffled thumps of his footsteps and considered booking it out of there, but before you made up your mind, the door opened. As you had predicted, Bucky was wide-awake.

“What?”

You had wanted to sass him for his tone but decided against it since you were the one who interrupted his 1 AM activities. You shook your head from the clouds and mumbled incoherently, starting to walk away. The coldness of his metal arm abruptly gripped your wrist.

“Are you okay?”

You hated that question. You could be doing so good, holding in the burden of a horrible week, but the moment someone asks you that question, the dam would disintegrate into dust, only to be washed away by the inevitable waterworks.

The sob you let out didn’t loosen his hold. He let you cry and watched as you tried to wipe away the unrelenting tears, still refusing to close the gap between your bodies. Finally, you shuffled into his arms where he bear-hugged you, cupping the back of your neck and holding it to the junction of his neck.

"You smell nice,” you sniffled.

He lightly chuckled before dragging you into his room and seating you on the bed. He ordered you to stay there and rummaged around his cupboard before pulling out a bottle with red liquid sloshing around.

“You keep that in your room?” you snickered, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, before blanching at your state. Hell, he had seen you naked, how you look right now is the least of your concerns.

“In case of emergencies,” he winked. “This seems like a real emergency.”

A fresh wave of tears pooled in your waterline as you peered at your hands that were picking at each other.

“I don’t have wine glasses, so we can just chug.”

Bucky stuck out the bottle and you grasped it firmly before gulping one-fourth of it. That’s all the coaxing it took to get you to spill.

You don’t even remember what you talked about, but before either of you realized, 3 AM blinked on the digital clock that hung above the bed frame. You were almost asleep, now resting on Bucky’s lap while he occasionally hummed or offered his two cents. Right before you drifted off, the super-soldier lifted you, placing you under a cover. He climbed in from the other side, one hand cupping your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“Thanks, Buck.”

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay,” he whispered.

Your eyes drooped but swiftly opened as Bucky leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His lips barely touched yours, grazing their presence, but you moved, tenderly catching them. He returned the movement, the delicacy of his actions reflected in the softness of his eyes.

You pulled away and the two of you wordlessly bore into each other’s eyes. At last, you succumbed to the fatigue, as did he; both of you resting in the others’ possession.

Mania: an unhealthy, obsessive love that plagues the mind.

It was the third time Bucky didn’t show up at your door after a mission. Three missions, each of them ending in something that would have indubitably pissed him off - after all, they were HYDRA bases. That’s when you first suspected it.

The second was when you noted his intentional avoidance of your presence. Whether it be the kitchen, the gym or the hallways, the stealthy ex-assassin didn’t have trouble actively dodging you. Initially, you chalked it up to wanting space or simply taking a break.

Then you heard it.

Why was it that your gut told you to go right then? All this time you had been biding, yet it was at this precise moment that your hunch asked you to speak to him. It could’ve been the duration of the month that it took you to prepare yourself, but it had to be now. You raised your hand, prepping to knock on the door, but stopped.

Your hand froze mid-air. The elegant laugh of another girl sounded behind the door. It was faint, the noise slightly suppressed by the wall between you.

It could be anyone.

But it wasn’t. Your intuition, the one that told you to come here right now, was wise enough to know that this wasn’t just anyone. It was her.

You cupped your mouth to stop the sob that threatened to liberate itself from the confines of your constricted airway. You fell forward, onto your knees, as if to pray to the gods to not let it happen. But it already did. You let go of your mouth, gasping for air from holding your breath all this time.

Shoulders sagged and spine bent, you stalked back to your room like a zombie. Face devoid of all emotion, you fell onto the corner of your bed and crumpled into a ball. For twelve hours, you laid there. Sometimes sleeping, other times letting the tears leak out of the corners of your eyes. Memories of his fingers weaving through your own, the pleasures that chilled you to the bone. Most of all, the way you held his head to your chest as he whimpered about the nightmares that invaded his nights. It felt like those things happened to someone else. Nothing more than a distant memory.

Your heart clenched, tugging on the heartstring that you once thought was connected to him.

It was as if he knew you stood outside his door that day. There was an unspoken agreement to never speak of it. Yes, yes, don’t ever speak of it. The dam that you built so carefully will come crashing down. He stopped avoiding you, but you wished he didn’t; it was crueller to be reminded, easier to pretend he didn’t exist.

Be honest with yourself.

You didn’t pretend like he didn’t exist.

In fact, the first thought after waking up? Bucky. Last thought before going to sleep? My Buck. Every time he wasn’t around? James Buchanan Barnes.

Please, don’t act like every waking moment isn’t spent loving him. Because deep down, you know what’s true.

He never did introduce the mystery girl to anyone at the Tower, but you knew his disappearance after missions could be credited to her. Did he take out his anger on her as he did to you? Or were you nothing more than a toy?

Guilt was one of the few emotions you could make out from the rare occasions you caught his stare. Longing was there too, but you couldn’t be sure that you weren’t projecting. Months went by, waiting for thoughts of him to abandon your disturbed mind. The time never came.

As promised, he ruined anyone else for you.

Pragma: the type of love that endures all shortcomings. Committed relationships that stay in love have an element of significant Pragma to them.

a happy ending.

That relationship may have ended but it didn’t mean he would come back to you.

He did come back. But he wasn’t yours. Bucky made that clear when two more relationships ensued the last. Each time, the buffer period between them was filled by you.

His back-up plan. That’s what you had been reduced to.

After the third time he brought a new girl, you’d think you would be used to it, maybe even uncaring. Unfortunately, the opposite would always prevail.

Steve caught your fist and tutted, commenting on the bad form. You stopped, shook your shoulders and began hopping on the balls of your feet again. Jab, jab. Swing. At first, you’d imagine the faces of those girls. Nowadays, it was easier to envision the pads Steve held as his best friend’s face.

“Bucky’s girl broke up with him.”

“Oh,” you made out, focus slightly wavering.

“You know what happened?”

“Are you asking me ‘cause you wanna know or because you already know?”

“I already know,” he sighed, lowering the hand pads.

He exhaled your name, shaking his and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “When are you two gonna stop playing around?”

“I really don’t understand, Steve.”

“You know why she broke up with him?” You blinked, tongue poking the inside of your cheek in anticipation of an answer.

“He moaned your name during sex.”

“God, that’s so corny,” you huffed, now beginning to make your way out of the boxing ring.

“So what, you’re gonna do nothing? Keep letting him use you?” Steve jogged to catch up to you.

“No,” you faced him, “I’m not letting him use me as a fallback anymore. I’m putting an end to it.”

Steve pursed his lips and shot you and exasperated look before shaking his head. “Don’t let something good go to waste.”

It used to be something good.

You wondered if you could hold up the promise you had just declared to Steve; in the past, you failed every time he showed up at your door. Bucky knew exactly how to play into your emotions, how to say the right things every time. And just like that, the next morning you’d end up in his arms. That stops today.

Determined, you practically punched the button to go up on the elevator and impatiently tapped your foot. As the doors slid closed, you took one look at yourself and turned away, fighting the urge to fix your appearance for him. The doors opened again and you check the floor number, ready to step out, but stopped at the sound of your name. His ex. You almost ran off, unwilling to put up with an angry ex, but she called on you again. You sheepishly stood there, as if you were the one who did something wrong, until she stepped in and pressed the button to go to the lobby.

The silence stretched on, much like your patience. Does she even know who you are?

“We were both fooling ourselves.”

You turn to check if she was speaking to you. Her stare was unwavering and she maintained eye contact that almost made you squirm.

“We both love different people.” She smiled, an obvious melancholy tainting her face. You stood there, absolutely clueless as to how you should respond.

“It’s too late for me, but it’s not for the two of you. Just... don’t let him go. He’s one of the good ones.”

You turned again, now looking down at the ground. Even if she expected you to say something back, it was impossible, at this point. Your mind was in shambles, everything she said contradicting the choice you made five minutes ago.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened and she stepped out. She turned one last time and nodded as if you knew what to do now.

Bucky’s door was unlocked. You called out his name, barely above a whisper and sauntered with hesitation lining your every step. Nothing. Empty. He wasn’t there.

It was a sign. You almost ignored the advice his ex gave, ready to walk into his room and end things. Your shoulder slumped as if your bore the weight of the world on them as you slunk back to your room. Now it would take another outburst or another month to prepare yourself to talk to him again.

As the days went by, you barely saw him around. It reminded you of the times he intentionally ignored you, except this time, you weren’t sure it was intentional. When you did see him, it was clear that he wasn’t doing good; his beard was unkept and scraggly, the bags under his eyes heavier than any trauma he carried. You pretended as though you didn’t notice and went about your routine.

1 AM

A knock sounded at your door. You knew who it was, how could you not, but hoped it wasn’t him anyway. The encounter would most likely end with tears or sex and you didn’t favour either outcome.

You waited a minute. Maybe he would leave if he assumed you were asleep. The knock sounded again.

You cracked the door open. Whatever you were expecting, surely, it wasn’t this. Eyes red and puffy, it was clear he had been crying and most definitely not sleeping.

He held up a wine bottle, and chuckled pathetically at himself.

“Maybe this is bad idea,” he sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his left arm.

It didn’t feel right to say anything. Rather, you opened the door wider and beckoned for him to step in.

“Emergency?” you asked with a little smile. God, you were so close to crying and he hasn’t even said anything.

“Oh yeah. Big emergency.”

He sat on your bed and felt the sheets, trying to remember the feeling of it on his knees. The days he would buck into you while you clutched them like a vice. The soldier pursed his lips and watched as you settled beside him.

“You don’t have to talk... if you don’t want to,” you said. Your voice cracked and you almost smacked yourself for being so weak around him.

“But I do. I should talk. I have so much to say... Can I explain?” He turned to face you, reaching out for your hands, holding them in his own. You didn’t say anything, opting to return his request with a pleading look in your eyes. He knew what the look meant: just don’t break my heart. Again. He took a deep breath in acknowledgement, trying to form the words that would help you understand.

“I can’t believe I hurt you. I swear, I didn’t know I was doing it, at first.” You mustered your best unbelieving look, almost scoffing for good measure. “No, really,” he hastily added.

A few tears streamed down your face and you frantically tried to wipe them. Bucky took one look at you before he began breaking down, tears slipping down his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry... I just- I don’t understand? I thought things were good?” you questioned. You had given up on trying to wipe your tears, as did he.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. And by the time I realized, we were so far in. Then I found a distraction... and I really thought I was over you,” he paused, wondering if he should continue or not. You showed no sign of speaking up, so he went on.

“I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I was so convinced that you wouldn’t blink twice but then... but, I-... I heard you at the door that day. I wanted to kick her out and hold you, but I-...”

“But you what? You what, Bucky?”

“I thought it was too late for us. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Then why are you here now?”

“Don’t be mad,” he murmured, retracting his hands and fiddling with his fingers.

“I don’t think anyone can ever replace what we had. Maybe... still have? Because you’re it for me. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that. I was on the brink of losing myself.” He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a new wave of tears. He mumbled your name weakly, croaking out a please at the end.

You curled in on yourself and fell into his arms, hoping that was enough of a answer.

“I can’t promise you that everything will be back to normal by tomorrow morning... but with some time, I can learn to trust you again.”

Above you, Bucky hurriedly nodded. At the state he’s in right now, you suspected that you could ask him to sell his soul and he would agree.

“And if you ever break my heart again-,”

“-I would die before that happens,” he finished for you, kissing the top of your head for good measure.

“I love you,” you whimpered, “so fucking much.”

“I love you too. I really love you too,” he affirmed and encased you with his arms again.

Though there had been some rough patches on the road to happiness, with Bucky by your side, you felt as though you could make it through anything; for that, is the power of pragmatic love.

an unfortunate ending.

The tears that would’ve been shed during the ceremony have dried on your pillowcase about five hours ago. Now, you sat beside the team, waiting for her to walk down the aisle.

Bucky looked nervous, as if he were reconsidering his life decisions. The little devil on your shoulder was holding onto every little thing he did: the wrinkle of his forehead, his repeated tugging on the suit and his flustered glancing around. Oh lord, and when he accidentally locked eyes with you? You may have bitten your lip and looked away in contempt but the shoulder-devil was as persistent as ever.

He secretly still wants you.

Shut up.

He wants to call it off.

Get a life.

At last, the lucky girl stood at the end of the winding path and you couldn’t help but sneak a look at the groom. His tension and nervousness crumbled at the sight of her; it was difficult not to feel happy that he had found the one that made him feel this way.

It may have been him for you, but that notion was long forgotten, a nuisance of memory at most. Your love for him, regardless of the storms it has endured, is no longer respected or wanted by either party.

If he loves her, why does he come to you when things get bad?

You shook your head at that, having no answer for the nature of his secret infidelity. It was nothing more than taking out his frustrations on you - much like the old days.

Your reminiscing was cut short when a voice asked everyone to rise for the bride. You stood and straightened out your outfit, flicking off the little white petal that clung to your maroon dress. A hand grasped your own, and you turned to see Steve smile reassuringly. You squeeze his hand in appreciation and turned your attention to the white-clad figure walking down the aisle.

And that’s all you remember. You wish you could recall the rest of the wedding. You really do. Too preoccupied with what was going to happen after the event, you disassociated from the ordeal altogether. No matter how hard you grilled yourself, nothing would come to mind - dissociative amnesia only occurs as a protective coping mechanism during traumatic events; was that what Bucky’s wedding was to you?

What type of question is that?

For once, you agreed with the little red beast that sat on your shoulder. Long ago, the first time you saw someone else Bucky’s arms, the devil pierced the pitchfork right through the angel’s heart. These days, it was all you could think of.

After the bride and groom exchanged ‘I do’s’, you willed yourself to stay a while longer. Your only companion, Steve, slow danced with you in silence, knowing that whatever he says would be of no consolation. Bucky did have half a mind to ask you for a dance, but he saw you leave. You didn’t think anyone did. He waited for you to turn and look at him one last time, but you never did. It’s okay, he thought. I didn’t deserve her anyway.

No one saw you after that.

On your bed, Steve found a single note that didn’t explain anything more than what he already knew. If anything, it simply affirmed that you were gone for good. Your things packed up, no trace of a person ever having lived there. Even if he pulled some strings, it would take years to find you again.

After all, you had already been lost for quite some time.

hey folks. i know this seems a little desperate-sounding but i would really appreciate reblogs and would absolutely love to hear your thoughts on the story. what was you favourite part? which part made you feel some way? i really love knowing these things. love each and every single one of you.

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missblissy · 3 years

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Heyo! Do you think you could write something for demon al finding out his demon s/o also likes to sing? I love singing and it think it would be really cute to do it with Alastor 🤲🏻

((I would love to nonny! Im sorry for the wait :') I hope you like it! I turned it more into a song fic? Like.... A... double song fic xD??? Anyways I hope you enjoy!! Here and Here are the songs used in this fic!!))

He took a deep breath in and held on to it for as long as he could. The one and only joy he really had within the walls of this hotel was this. If it wasn't for these weekend shows, he might have just killed everyone by now out of sheer boredom. Every weekend, the Hazbin Hotel opened its doors to the general public. The lounge was opened up, tables were set, seats were filled. Dinner and a show were to be served to all who came in those doors. Though not free of charge, much to Charlie's protests. But the hotel had to make money somehow, so Alastor was put in charge of that.

The curtains pulled and opened before him and a spotlight flashed upon him. Alastor smiled wide, "Hello~!" He said in a cheerful tone. He was already scanning the crowd of people, looking for you, "How is everyone doing tonight? Horrible I hope!" The audience let out a little laugh at that. Alastor kept looking around, but the seat you normally sat in had someone else in it. No noticed, but there was a twitch of anger in his smile for a second, "Well! Let's get this show started!" He snapped his fingers and the spotlight turned off. Music started to play and soon enough Alastor transformed himself into a more casual outfit. As the music picked up, his spotlight turned back on and Alastor was half tempted to not sing this song especially if you weren't even here. Well, he did only meet you a few weeks ago, and you only did just started some... flirtationship if you would even call it that.

Oh well. Here goes nothing. Some much for trying to impress you with this, "I heard the time just slips from your sugarplum lips. So I go there just to watch it fall and then my jaw just drops when your cherry lollypops! I get nervous when you bounce my ball~" He gave a charming smile to no one in general, unfortunately. Come on, were you late? No... You knew when the hotel opened....

"I get the strangest sense we were lovers, past tense. Like a dog in heat, I just can't be indiscreet and when I see you there I whisper my prayer so sweet~ I'm getting shaky on my feet, I'm incomplete~" Alastor's mind raced while he sang on autopilot. Maybe he just couldn't see you in dark? Maybe you were all the way in the back? "I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear! I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown~"

Alastor paused with the music, letting the song play only enough for him to take a deep breath and wonder where the hell was his favorite little play thing, "I heard your glass hips swayed while the jitterbugs played. Every man was on his bended knee~ And all my hopes got smashed as my nerve just crashed! I was as heavy as a boy can be." He went on to sing the chorus again, while somehow giving up on looking for you in the crowd at the same time. It was almost too ironic that the next lines fit his feelings perfectly, "And if you just can't do me right, then, honey, please do me wrong! I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown!"

He sang on, with a slight hollowness to his voice that no one picked up on. He didn't move as quickly or flash as big of a smile. Alastor finished his little musical number and left the stage with a round of applause, and quickly someone else took the stage. All kinds of people showed up to sing, to even do comedy (Which Alastor did as well, he just didn't feel like it today. Maybe he should have seeing as you weren't even here.)

There was a special place where Alastor got to sit. In the very front, in a booth with Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk. Nifty was never around for these kinds of things, and Angel often made some kind of sexual escapade out of a song later into the night. When Alastor finally sat down with the rest of the group, he found it very odd that Charlie was bouncing with joy.

"Hi, Al!" She said a little too loud. She got "shh"ed by a few people close by, "Sorry-" She whispered out, "Hi!" She said again to Alastor with a little wave of her hand.

His ever-present smile grew only slightly, "Hello, Charlie. Excited for tonight, are we?"

"Yeah!" She blurted out again, with another round of people hushing her up. So this time she whisper-yelled, "You're in for a great show tonight, Al!"

Alastor flickered his gaze to the stage, the same person was still there trying to make music out of whatever horrible sounds they were making. He looked back to Charlie and raised a brow, "I am?" He asked, "What makes you say tha-"

"Shh! Shh!" Charlie held a finger to her mouth and waved her other hand in the air, "It's starting!" Alastor looked to the stage again, now empty with no lights shining on it.

Music started to play once again, but the lights remained low. He could barely make out someone walking in the darkness of the stage, then suddenly, the lights flashed on and it was you, "You call me on the telephone, you feel so far away. You tell me to come over, there's some games you want to play," You stared him down, eyes lock on no one else but Alastor. Finally, the table have turned, and little did Alastor know that he was going to be the one seduced with a song tonight, "I'm walking to your house, nobody's home. Just me and you and you and me alone~"

You quickly take step after step down the front of the stage, matching your movements to the tempo of the song. It was only a few steps before you stood right in front of the table Alastor, and everyone sat at. But somehow you made him feel like he was the only one in the room, "We're just playing hide and seek, it's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you~ I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing- chasing after you~" It was like you a spell on him. Your words were sultry and loose enough for him to read between your lyrics. You even gave him that sneaky little smirk before going on to sing, "I don't give a fuck about you anyways! Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you~"

You spun on your heel quickly giving a wave of your hand. You were playing hard to get and you knew Alastor couldn't resist. As you made your way back up the long stage, Alastor couldn't even stop himself before he realized he was following you up there. At that moment, he knew everyone was watching him... and you. How entertaining.

Just as he got close enough, you turned quickly to face him and quickly point a finger at him, then press it into his chest to push him away, "Wake up in your bedroom and there's nothing left to say. When I try to talk you're always playing board games," You then quickly moved your hand and grabbed him by his chin. You gave a dirty little smirk and made sure to give him look he couldn't resist, "I wish I had monopoly over your mind, I wish I didn't care all the time. We're just playing hide and seek~ It's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you! I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing, chasing after you~"

You walked circles around him, Alastor's eyes hard on you and watching every move. His smile was weak, shaken, and there was a hunger in his eyes you'd never seen but always wanted to, "Ring around the rosy, I never know- I never know what you need~ Ring around the rosy, I want to give you- want to give you what you need~ I don't give a fuck about you anyways. Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you."

Alastor made an attempt to reach out and grab you, but he was slowly and only half attempted. You spun by him quickly, missing him, and making sure to give him a wink as you avoided him. But you stopped just shy of him, standing dead center. You smiled, then tilted your head slightly and held your hand out for him to take, "You know I give a fuck about you everyday, guess it's time that I tell you the truth. If I share my toys, will you let me stay? Don't want to leave this play date with you~"

There was a loud round of applause, cheering, and whistling. To say he was stunned, walking around like a drooling dog, that would be an understatement. You smiled wide, giggling to yourself as Alastor started to remember where he was. He didn't like all these eyes on him, and especially on you. He looked over his shoulder and saw Charlie and Vaggie laughing, in a good way, at least. They seemed to be enjoying watching Alastor fawn over someone.

That drew the line in the sand for him. He quickly grabbed onto your wrist and with his free hand, he snapped his finger. In a little cloud of smoke and dust, the two of you were gone from the hotel's auditorium. You watched as Alastor poofed the two of you away, and manifested out in the hotel hallways. His grip on you was tight as you giggled at his flustered face.

Your little giggles grew as you asked, "So? Did you lik- Mwh!" Alastor cut you off by slamming his lips into yours. He held onto you, hands gripping your arms as he dragged you in closer to him. You were caught off guard as he pushed you backward until your back was pressed against a wall. He deepened the kiss, hungry for more and more of you. You moaned, falling into his embrace and giving in to his demands.

Alastor pulled only inches away but made sure to press you into the wall, hard, trapping you against him, "I loved it." His words were deep and husky, filled with a desire you've never seen him have before. The low growl in his voice sent chills down your spine and caused your skin to heat up, "But don't ever do that kind of shit with me ever. Again. Understood?"

You stared back at him with wide eyes and lips pressed together. You nodded quickly and watched as his sinister smiles curled onto his lips, "Good," He gave you a small kiss, then teased you by licking your lips. He knee was quickly between your legs as he rested an arm on the wall behind you. He went to the crook of your neck, whispering in your ear, "Now, where were we~?"

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rowansparrow · 3 years

Text

Juke Box Hero: A Rose Story

This is SO STUPID LMAO But I hope you guys like it anyway. I’m back on my bullshit and I am here to provide you with a little story based off THIS POST. Anon, thank you for your service, because this was very, very fun.

This snippet takes place during Chapter Seven of BAON, during the flashback when Reader is meeting Rex for the first time and Rose and Co. are stuck cleaning up the barracks. You don’t necessarily have to have read it for this to make sense, but the right context might be neat.

Also, for timeline purposes/in BAON, Tup and Dogma technically never met Rose, as they weren’t part of the 501st before he died, but I’m including them in this because I make the rules and I wanted to.

Also Denal’s here because I think he’s a funky dude and deserves more content.

The clones deserve to dance and have fun and who’s gonna write them doing that if it ain’t me?

Rating: Mature-ish? There are some dirty jokes and swearing but mostly it’s Just fun shenanigans with Rose and Bros.

(Also I spent a TON of time picking everyone’s songs so pls tell me what you think of my selections lmao).

I’m tagging everyone from the BAON tag list in case you’re interested. Enjoy!

In retrospect, perhaps Rose should have put a stop to the loth cat situation – or as Hardcase called it, Operation: P.U.S.S.Y. He claimed it was an abbreviation for “Petting Unusually Sweet Strays, Yeah!”

“You have to call it something else.” Rose had said at the time, staring at the loth cat cradled protectively in Hardcase’s arms.

“But you’re not saying no?” Hardcase prompted eagerly, already bouncing lightly on his heels.

“Just…” Rose pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just… clean up after it? And if it breaks anything, it’s on you, and for the love of Force, don’t get caught.”

Now, as the Lieutenant surveyed the disarray that had befallen the barracks, and the company of very disgruntled subordinates, he was reconsidering his earlier leniency.

“I feel as the acting SIC, you’re the one who should be taking the flak for this, not the entire company.” Jesse grumbled, glaring at Lieutenant Rose over his shoulder as he scrubbed at the floor of the barracks.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not the one who brought a pregnant loth-cat into the barracks in the first place.” Rose replied, straightening up for a moment where he’d been hunched over, his back cracking as he moved.

“Well, you didn’t fight me very hard on it!” Hardcase protested. “And I didn’t know Beans was pregnant at the time! I didn’t even know she was a girl!”

His explanation only earned him several slugs to the arm from nearby vode.

“And just because I’m second-in-command does not make me exempt from the Captain’s wrath.” Rose added. “You didn’t get the dressing-down, you just have to carry out the punishment with me.”

“Hang on, I thought we agreed the cat’s name was going to be Road Rash?” Coric asked.

“That’s unladylike.” Said Denal. “And rude. She can’t help her scars.”

“And Beans is ladylike?” Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“She likes it! And her kits looked like beans when they came out too!”

Rose shook his head fondly at his men as they bickered. At least they weren’t complaining anymore.

In truth, he was surprised the situation had been managed as long as it had been. They’d lasted almost a full three weeks without anyone figuring out they were hiding a cat in the barracks. Of course, the kittens made it much harder, and they could only hide them in overturned helmets during inspections for so many days before the helmets started to mewl.

And once Beans threw a tantrum over not having her kits with her, it was game over. She’d knocked over an entire can of armor paint in her wrath, and blue pawprints and large paint puddles coated the durasteel of the barracks, and a few of the bunks had claw and bite marks in the fabric.

“It’ll take us an hour, maybe more, to clean this whole mess up.” Fives complained, looking around the barracks forlornly. He had a nasty scratch just under his eye from finally snatching Beans up in her rampage. “Kriff. I was excited to go out tonight.”

“Not to mention after we finish here the Captain said we had to go take over latrine and canteen detail from other battalions.”

“Then I guess you better get scrubbing.” Kix said absently, thumbing through medical requisition forms on his datapad and sitting cross-legged on one of the few bunks that didn’t have blue paw prints streaked across it.

“Why aren’t you helping? You’re part of the company too.” Echo said. “Fives and I are ARC troopers, if anyone here should be exempt from company-wide punishments, it’s us.”

“I’m not helping because I didn’t participate.” Kix replied, not looking up from his ‘pad.

“The kark you didn’t, you delivered the kits!” Fives snapped.

“Well, Captain Rex didn’t catch me, so.”

“That’s because you went and hid in the medbay and didn’t warn the rest of us he was coming.” Tup muttered under his breath.

“Not true. I sent Jesse a comm.” Kix said, finally looking up only to shrug and return to his work. “Which he didn’t check, and that’s not my fault.”

“It doesn’t matter who was involved and who wasn’t involved.” Dogma piped up. “Clearly, because if it did, I wouldn’t be here either.”

“We know.” Said Jesse and Fives in unison.

Rose sighed, his eyes drifting forlornly to his bunk. He spotted his footlocker sticking halfway out from underneath the durasteel, and he lit up. He opened it quickly, pulling out a beat-up radio he’d gotten at a market stall during one of his first deployments. He’d had to trade a droid popper and half his rations for it – Rex had not been pleased about it when he found out – but it was worth the two-day latrine rotation he’d gotten as punishment.

He’d already downloaded several songs off the HoloNet, along with a few channel recordings of past BoloBall games. Even if he knew who won them, it was still something to listen to on long stints on cruisers.

“What’cha doing, Lieutenant?” Tup asked, peeking around the corner as Rose straightened back up, fumbling with the little radio for a moment and propping it up on one of the bunks so the music could fill the whole room.

“No. NO! No.” Jesse jabbed a finger at the Lieutenant as he saw him set up the radio. “No. Absolutely not. I have had enough of your osik-brained, Force-forsaken, whack-ass music to last me a lifetime.”

Kix chuckled, rolling his eyes at the other trooper. “You listen exclusively to electronic dance music. Even when we aren’t at 79s. You have no room to talk.”

“This is better than that.” Rose promised, dialing up the volume. “This is the kind of stuff you’d find on the jukebox at Dex’s Diner.” He grinned. Dex was personal friends with General Kenobi, and was one of the few Coruscant establishments that was friendly to clones, as long as they behaved themselves. Rose had gone there with his brothers a handful of times, and even Anakin had dragged his Padawan Ahsoka, Rose, and Rex along once.

“You have a radio?” Dogma frowned. “Isn’t that contraband, sir?”

“Relax, it’s an old prewar-era radio, it’s not hurting anything.” Fives drawled, knocking Dogma lightly on the shoulder. “What’re you gonna play, sir?”

“Let’s see…” Rose filtered through his downloads, and grinned wider, pressing play.

Immediately, soft music rang through the barracks, and Jesse smacked his head against the bunk, groaning loudly.

“I’m begging you, Lieutenant.” Jesse said. “I’m begging.”

Rose was already swaying his hips, bending over to grab Jesse by the chin.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.” Rose serenaded him.

Jesse swatted Rose’s hand away, and Rose turned, swinging around on the side of the bunk and pointing to Fives this time. “Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.”

Fives grinned, joining in even as he stumbled slightly over the words.

“There she stood in the doorway. I heard the mission bell and I was thinking to myself, this could be Heaven or this could be Hell.”

Kix was drumming his fingers on his datapad, nodding along and singing under his breath.

“Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way. There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say…”

“This is too slow.” Echo griped, rising to his feet and stepping over Dogma, who was still stubbornly scrubbing away at the barrack floors and refusing to engage even as the rest of the clones began quietly singing along with the chorus.

The ARC Trooper fiddled with the dial for a moment, scrolling through Rose’s music and selecting another song, already grinning as the chanting started through the speakers and eventually rippled through the ranks of the 501st.

“STOP.” Jesse barked, trying to kick Fives as the other ARC trooper hopped to his feet, stomping his feet and chanting along. “STOP, I HATE THIS ONE!”

Rose and Hardcase were chanting too, and Coric had started clapping his hands on an overturned bucket, a few shinies clapping their hands together as Echo shook his ass, kama swaying as he climbed up onto a nearby table. He scooped up a mop, pulling the handle to his mouth.

“I can’t stop this feeling, deep inside of me.” He pointed to Kix, grinding against the handle. “Girl, you just don’t realize what you do to me.”

Kix gave him the finger, and Echo pointed to Fives, who was still chanting with the others but was now holding up his helmet, recording the whole thing. Echo amped up his performance.

“When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything’s alright. I’m hooked on a feeling!”

Tup whooped from where he’d moved to sit on one of the bunks. Dogma shot him a nasty look, which he ignored in favor of watching Echo strut on the table.

“I’m high on believing that you’re in love with me. Lips as sweet as candy, its taste is on my mind. Girl you got me thirsty for another cup of wine.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I have a good one.” Fives shoved his helmet at Hardcase, letting him take over recording as he scrambled to the radio, quickly turning the dial once again and elbowing Echo off the table as fast, loud, angry guitars shredded through the barracks.

Jesse seemed to perk up just slightly, and any of the 501st troopers who were still trying to actually clean – save for Dogma – had abandoned their supplies and had elected to dance instead, crowding the table and forming a makeshift mosh pit.

Fives was nothing if not a showman, and when he snatched the mop from Echo, he performed.

“When I get high, I get high on speed. Top fuel funny car’s a drug for me, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

He stomped his foot hard on the table, flipping his head back and running one hand messily through his hair.

“Always got the cops coming after me, custom-built bike doing 103, my heart! My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Rose laughed, watching as Fives looked at the helmet Hardcase was hoisting up over the crowd, singing into the camera and rolling his shoulders back.

“Ooh, are ya ready, girls? Ooh, are you ready now? Woah, yeah! Kickstart my heart, baby give it a start. Woah, yeah! Baby! Kickstart my heart, hope it never stops. Woah, yeah, baby yeah!”

The clones joined him for the chorus, and then Fives dropped to his knees like he’d seen rockers do on the HoloNet, high fiving the nearest vode. Dogma was still stubbornly trying to clean up the barracks, but had moved on to one of the far corners, only giving the rest of his battalion the occasional side-eye.

“Skydive naked from an aeroplane, or a lady with a body from outer space, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart.” He wiggled his hips as he straightened back up, biting his lip through a grin and dropping his hand to his hips and shaking his fist obscenely, as though he was jerking himself off.

“Say I got trouble, trouble in my eyes, I’m just looking for another good time, my heart. My heart! Kickstart my heart!”

Before Fives could do something else profane – or possibly attempt to crowd-surf and give Rose a handful of incident reports to fill out, the music suddenly shifted, and all heads turned to the radio.

Kix was smirking. He’d divested himself of the top half of his armor, instead electing to shimmy his way up onto the table in just the upper half of his blacks and lower armor plates. Fives exited, rejoining the crowd as Kix leveled a sultry look at the camera for just a moment before turning his back on the crowd.

“Clean shirt, new shoes, and I don’t know where I am goin’ to. Silk suit, black tie, I don’t need a reason why.”

He spun quickly, switching his grip on the mop handle as though he was holding a woman in his arms, dipping it low towards the crowd as he sang.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives and Echo were howling with laughter, and Hardcase wolf-whistled loud enough that Rose’s ears rang. Even Jesse had finally joined in, nodding his head along to the music and trying to bite back a grin. Tup had left the crowd to instead attempt to pull Dogma in, and Denal had rounded up a few newer members and was trying to push them closer to the front.

Kix unzipped the top half of his blacks, doing a slow strip-tease in time with the music.

“Gold watch, diamond ring, I ain’t missin’, not a single thing. And cufflinks, stickpin, when I step out I’mma do you in.” Kix shrugged out of his blacks and rolled his hips along the mop handle, dropping his ass low and slowly dragging himself back up, grinding against the handle.

“They come a runnin’ just as fast as they can, ‘cos every girl’s crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

Fives actually pretended to faint, falling backwards into Echo, who was laughing so hard that he fell over with him.

“ALRIGHT!” Dogma shouted over the music, elbowing his way through the crowd with Tup following anxiously behind him. Dogma firmly stopped the music, hands on his hips as he turned to face the rest of his brothers, who’d begun to boo.

“We have orders,” Dogma reminded them. “This is a punishment, not a party. When we finish here, we’re supposed to clean the shower block, and then we’re supposed to report to the mess hall and take over the canteen cleanup shifts.”

“We know the orders, Dogma.” Rose said, putting a hand on the younger trooper’s shoulder. “There’s no harm in having fun while you work.”

“I’m the only one still working.” Dogma grumbled.

“Alright, alright, we’ll turn it low for now, and we’ll finish up in here, then we can bring the radio with us when we move to the refreshers and canteen. Fair?” He asked, turning to the rest of the men. There were a few muttered responses, and Rose raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite make that out.” He said. “We are cleaning this mess up, correct gentlemen?”

“Sir yes sir!” They all answered quickly, hurrying back to work.

Rose chuckled, shifting the music to something a little calmer, the gentle piano wafting through the barracks as they continued to clean up.

Denal’s head perked up as soon as he heard the piano start, and while he didn’t climb up onto the table like his brothers had, he smiled to himself, turning back towards the spot he was scrubbing and singing to the durasteel floor.

“I'm sailing away. Set an open course for the Virgin Sea.”

Echo hummed, closing his eyes and rocking back on his heels for a moment, listening to his older vod croon.

“'Cause I've got to be free. Free to face the life that's ahead of me.” Denal continued, his voice soft but steady. “On board I'm the captain, so climb aboard. We'll search for tomorrow on every shore and I'll try, oh Lord I'll try… to carry on.”

Somebody whistled, a few scattered claps ringing through the barracks. Coric picked up where Denal left off.

“I look to the sea, reflections in the waves spark my memory. Some happy some sad.” He sang. “I think of childhood friends, and the dreams we had.”

Tup glanced to Dogma, who was practically seething as he scrubbed at the same spot on the floor that he’d been working on for the past several minutes. “You like this song, don’t you, Dogma?”

“No I don’t. Shut up.”

“Join in. They won’t mind.” Tup encouraged.

“No.”

“We live happily forever, so the story goes. But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold.” Sang Coric. “But we'll try best that we can to carry on!”

The music picked up, and Jesse shot Rose a look.

“This is a deceptively fast song.” He said.

“It sneaks up on ya.” Rose chuckled.

The barracks devolved into chaos once again, the clones all screaming along to the lyrics, even the ones who didn’t know the words picked it up quickly, encouraged by their brothers.

Despite the distractions, they finally finished cleaning the barracks, and Rose plucked the radio from where he’d stashed it, leading the way down the hallway towards the refreshers. The 501st were especially rowdy in the quiet halls – most of the barracks were empty, the clones who weren’t being punished for loth-cat related shenanigans were taking advantage of the shore leave.

When they opened the door to the shower block, they encountered a few members of the 212th already in there, cleaning up.

“Pack it in, lads.” Rose announced. “We’re taking over for you.”

“What? Why?” Boil asked, leaning on a mop and raising an eyebrow. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Yes.” Hardcase replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“All of you?” Waxer poked his head out from inside one of the refresher stalls, Crys and Wooley pausing from where they were wiping down countertops.

“Yeah, it’s Hardcase’s fault. As usual.” Jesse said, strolling over to Boil and plucking the mop from his hands. “We’re supposed to take over your shifts.”

“Good, I was hoping to get to 79’s tonight before last call. I hear they’ve got purple spotchka.” Boil said excitedly, glancing at Waxer over his shoulder.

“We can help you finish.” Waxer said, immediately raining on his brother’s parade. “There isn’t much left to do anyway.”

“You sure?” Rose asked. “It’s technically a punishment -.”

“Nah, it’s fine, there really isn’t much left, aside from the toilets.” He grinned. “But you boys can handle those.”

“Fair enough.” Rose chuckled, nodding over his shoulder to his men. Fives, Echo, Jesse, and Hardcase were in a heated four-way battle of rock, flimsi, cutters in order to determine who had to clean the toilets first.

“What’s that?” One trooper Rose didn’t recognize asked, pointing to his hand.

“It’s a radio!” Rose said cheerfully. “I’m err… technically not supposed to have it. But we’ve been listening to music while we worked.” He set it up on the countertop. “Do you have a favorite song…?”

“Spitter.” The 212th trooper supplied helpfully.

“Spitter.” Rose repeated, chuckling to himself and wondering how the hell he’d earned that name. “Do you have a favorite song?”

“I don’t know the name of it.” The trooper admitted shyly. “But – but it’s the one they play on the hits channel all the time. I hear it playing in the admiral’s quarters on the Negotiator all the time.”

“I know that one!” Waxer said excitedly, nodding to Rose. “It’s the one Commander Cody likes. You were playing it in the hangar a few weeks ago when our flight detail overlapped.”

“I remember.” Rose smiled, and turned the song on.

Immediately, every head, including Dogma’s, perked up at the familiar tune. Fives clapped his hands together, getting them started.

“When I wake up, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you.”

The younger trooper, Spitter, lit up and followed it up.

“When I go out, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.”

Waxer elbowed Boil, trying to get him to join in, but the other trooper shook his head and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes even as Waxer sang.

“If I get drunk, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.”

Their voices carried through the refresher’s tiled walls, and Jesse picked up where Waxer left off.

“And if I haver, yeah I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you.”

When the chorus rolled around, everyone joined in, their voices bouncing off the walls around them.

“But I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door.”

“When I’m working,” Kix began, offering a hand to Wooley and giving him a playful spin. “Yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s working hard for you.”

“And when the money comes in for the work I do, I’ll pass almost every penny on to you.” Wooley laughed, shoving Kix away with a grin.

“When I come home,” Tup piped up quickly, before someone else could. “Oh, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you.”

“And if I grow old,” Crys smirked, shaking his shoulders at Fives, who punched him playfully in the arms and joined in, singing the line in unison. “Well, I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you.”

The chorus returned, and they sang with even more feeling than before, dancing and tossing their heads back, shouting along to the words and nearly drowning out the music itself as they sang.

As the final verse approached, Waxer sidled up next to Boil, giving him a hopeful look. His brother sighed, scrubbing a hand bitterly over his face and reluctantly joined in.

“When I’m lonely, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who’s lonely without you.” He sang.

“And when I’m dreaming,” Echo called. “Well I know I’m gonna dream, I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you.”

“And when I go out, well I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you.” Fives followed.

“And when I come home, yes I know I’m gonna be, I’m gonna be the man who comes back home with you.” Denal said.

Tup took a deep breath, preparing to finish off the verse, but he was cut off.

“I’m gonna be the man who’s coming home,” Dogma’s voice was shaky as all eyes turned to him, and he finished in a squeak. “With you.”

The room erupted in cheers, Fives catching Dogma under his arm and giving him a noogie as the chorus rang out once again, everyone shouting along to the lyrics together.

When the song ended, and the cleanup was done, the 212th parted ways with the 501st, the brothers patting one another on the back and jeering affectionately at one another now that the song and dance was done.

“If you finish with everything before final call, catch up with us at 79’s.” Boil called over his shoulder. “We can give the vode there a run for their money with our rendition of that song.”

“Count on it.” Rose chuckled, giving the other company a little salute before leading his men on towards the canteen.

The canteen, blessedly, was empty, and most of it was already clean. All they really had to do was wipe everything down, mop, and then make sure the kitchen was well-prepped for the next day.

“I didn’t know you had it in ya, Dogma.” Echo said affectionately, knocking his younger vod playfully in the shoulder as they walked.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Dogma muttered, his ears burning as he pushed into the canteen, grabbing the cleaning supplies from the nearby supply closet.

“Who’s turn was it for a solo?” Fives asked, watching as Rose started to set up the radio above one of the food windows so it could project into the entire cafeteria.

“I think Dogma should go.” Kix grinned. “Now that we know he’s got some pipes.”

“Absolutely not.” Dogma said immediately, not looking up from where he was wiping down tables.

“I can go first?” Tup offered, raising his hand sheepishly. Dogma shot him another stern look, but Tup was already wandering over to the radio, moving the dial and tentatively pressing play.

Upbeat music filled the canteen, and the other troopers cheered as Fives ushered Tup over to the nearest table, boosting him up on top of it and then thrusting a mop into his hands. Hardcase was already fumbling with the helmet again, trying to get a recording as Tup tapped his foot along with the beat, nodding his head as he found his rhythm.

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say. I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way.”

Fives was leading other troopers in pounding the surrounding tables in time with the drumbeats while Echo was leading another group to clap in time.

“I ain’t nothing but tired! Man, I’m just tired and bored with myself.” Tup flashed the camera a grin, reaching up and pulling his hair tie out, shaking his wild curls loose around his head. “Hey there baby, I could use just a little help.”

Jesse whistled, and Dogma had stopped cleaning and was watching his brother, the slightest smile pulling at his lips.

“You can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

Tup shook his hair out of his eyes, tossing his head back and jerking his hips.

“Messages keep getting clearer, radio’s on and I’m moving ‘round my place. I check my look in the mirror, wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!”

He swayed his hips again, and Hardcase shoved the camera at Kix instead so he could join in the clapping.

“Man, I ain’t getting nowhere, I’m just living in a dump like this. There’s something happening somewhere, baby I just know that there is.”

He hopped off the table, instead taking Dogma’s hand and dragging him towards the makeshift stage.

“You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark. This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.”

He pushed the mop into Dogma’s hands instead, beaming at him as he scurried off the table, sprinting over to the radio and quickly changing the song.

Immediately, slow guitar started but quickly escalated into heavy drums and fast riffs. Dogma’s cheeks turned a darker shade, and he looked frantically to Tup, trying to climb back down off the stage.

“No, no, come on!” Fives shouted, trying to body block Dogma from getting down. “Come on, you got this!”

The lyrics began, and Dogma sang along, his mouth barely moving, voice almost imperceptible.

“Another head hangs lowly, child is slowly taken… and the violence caused such silence, who are we mistaken?”

“Come on!” Tup called to him. “You LOVE this song! Let ‘em hear it!”

Dogma grit his teeth, his voice gaining strength. “But you see, it’s not me, it’s not my family, in your head, in your head they are fighting.”

He stomped his foot on the table, practically snarling out the words. “With their tanks, and their bombs, and their bombs, and their guns, in your head, in your head they are crying.”

He threw his head back, and for not the first time that night, the radio was drowned out by cheers.

“In your head! In your head! Zombie, Zombie, Zombie. What’s in your head? In your head? Zombie, Zombie, Zombie!”

Dogma climbed off the table quickly, his ears and cheeks burning but a small smile was on his face, even as he was smothered by Hardcase, Fives, Tup, and Echo swarming him with hugs and rubbing his head affectionately.

Jesse climbed up onto the table next, picking up the discarded mop and clearing his throat.

“I would just like to dedicate this song to the gorgeous woman I picked up at 79s last week.” He drawled, nodding once to Kix, who was hovering knowingly by the radio. He nodded once to the helmet, which was now stationed on a nearby table, still recording. “Darling, you had the best pair of tits I have ever seen in my entire life, and you had the mouth of an angel and the coochie of a devil.”

Fives whistled, and Coric snickered. Rose rolled his eyes.

“So, babygirl, this one is for you.”

Kix turned on the radio, and Jesse grinned.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name.”

Guitar rang out through the mess hall, and Jesse bit his lip, rolling his hips as he leaned slightly off the edge of the table.

“An angel’s smile is what you sell, you promised me heaven then put me through hell. Chains of love got a hold on me, when passion’s a prison, you can’t break free.”

He dropped into a crouch, singing directly into the camera.

“Whoa, you’re a loaded gun, whoa, there’s nowhere to run, no one can save me, the damage is done!”

He jumped to his feet, the table shaking under him as he landed.

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give love a bad name. I play my part and you play your game, you give love a bad name!” He turned his back on the crowd, dropping low again and slowly rising, shaking his ass. “Yeah you give love…”

He looked over his shoulder, tossing the camera a wink. “…a bad name.”

The music changed abruptly, and for a moment Jesse looked pissed. “What the hell, ‘Case?”

But his expression shifted as Hardcase rushed to the table, pushing his brother out of the way and taking the mop from him. The crowd cheered all over again as Jesse climbed down, brothers slapping him on the shoulders as Hardcase’s song started up.

“We finish strong, right vode?” He asked cheekily.

“We still have to finish cleaning!” Dogma called back.

Hardcase only smirked in response, and sang quickly to keep up with the lightning fast lyrics.

“Backstroking lover always hiding ‘neath the cover, can I talk to you, my daddy say. He said, you ain’t seen nothing ‘til you’re down on a muff and then you’re sure to be a-changin’ your ways.”

He cupped his codpiece, bucking his hips forward into his own hand.

“I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder, all the times I can reminisce. ‘Cos the best things of lovin’ with her sister and her cousin only started with a little kiss, like this!”

He swung his arms wide, shaking his ass in time with the music and stuck his tongue out, having the time of his life.

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

He walked backwards along the table, rolling his shoulders back as he moved.

“So I took a big chance at the high school dance with a missy who was ready to play. Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘cos she knew what she was doin’, and I know love is here to stay when she told me to walk this way!”

The rest of the 501st joined in with him, repeating the chorus of “Walk this way! Walk this way! Walk this way!” over and over again, Hardcase taking over again as the next verse began.

“School girl sweetie was the sassy kinda classy, little skirt’s climbing way up her knees. There was three young ladies in the school gym locker when I noticed they was lookin’ at me.”

He ran his hands along his thigh, mimicking raising a skirt.

“I was a high school loser, never made it with a lady ‘til the boys told me something I missed. Then my next-door neighbor with a daughter had a favor so I gave her just a little kiss, like this!”

“Do you think he has any idea what he’s singing about?” Kix asked Rose, leaning back against the counter and chuckling.

He watched as Hardcase went back to grabbing his own crotch, dry-humping the air and hummed.

“I’d say most likely.”

“See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school and your feet flyin’ up in the air. Singin’ hey diddle diddle with your kitty in the middle of the swing like you didn’t care.”

Hardcase grinned, and to both Kix and Rose’s utter chagrin, Hardcase actually did dive off the makeshift stage and attempt to crowd surf.

“I’m not patching you up!” Kix shouted over the roar of the music. Rose chuckled, turning the volume nod down as the rest of the 501st shouted in protest.

“Alright, that’s enough for now.” The Lieutenant said, taking control once more. “We can listen to it quietly in the background, but we really do need to wrap up cleaning.”

“Why? Got a date tonight?” Jesse asked with a raised eyebrow. Rose punched him lightly in the arm, and they got back to work once again.

They worked in relative silence, the occasional voice humming or singing along to the music, but they remained productive right up until one of the final songs Rose had downloaded cut through the speaker. The piano wasn’t as rich-sounding as it was through a regular speaker, but even through the tinny cadence of the beat-up radio, every single trooper in the canteen bolted upright, eyebrows raised. Rose smiled knowingly, and turned up the volume once again.

Fives beamed, sitting down on top of one of the tables and laying back, one leg bent and the other stretched flat, a hand behind his head as he sang up at the ceiling.

“Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world. She took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Jesse leaned back against the wall on the other side of the canteen, closing his eyes as he joined in.

“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train going anywhere.”

Echo kept mopping, but was grinning as he picked up the next line. “A singer in a smoky room, the smell of wine and cheap perfume.”

Kix grinned. “For a smile, they can share the night, it goes on, and on, and on, and on.”

The rest of the 501st joined in together, their voices carrying in perfect harmony.

“Strangers, waiting. Up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“Night!” Hardcase shouted, straining every muscle in his chest and neck as he struggled to reach the high note.

Tup picked up the next verse, climbing onto one of the tables and dragging Dogma up with him once again.

“Working hard to get my fill, everybody wants the thrill. Paying anything to roll the dice just one more time.”

Dogma smiled, nodding his head along to the music. “Some will win, some will lose.”

Tup threw his arm around his brother, and the two of them sang together. “Some were born to sing the blues!”

Rose’s voice carried from over by the radio. “Oh the movie never ends, it goes on and on, and on and on!”

“Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard, their shadows searching in the night. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the -.”

“NIGHT!” This time, it was Dogma, of all people, who rang out with the high note, and the explosion of shouts and cheers was deafening. They were screaming along to the lyrics, dancing and jumping and shouting and swaying in time with the song.

“Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feeling. Streetlight people! Don’t stop believin’, hold on-”

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

The booming voice was so powerful, it could be heard even over the shouts of all the clones. Echo was closest to the radio, and quickly shut it off as the song and dance stopped immediately, every clone scrambling to stand at attention.

The Jedi that filled the doorway was massive, an imposing shadow in the entrance to the canteen. He zeroed in on Tup and Dogma, who had been standing closest to the entrance, and stormed towards them.

“Who is your commanding officer?!”

“Me, sir.”

The Besalisk Jedi turned, spinning on Rose immediately. He stalked over to the Lieutenant, jabbing a meaty finger into his chest, hard enough to send him stumbling backwards.

“What is the meaning of this?” He snarled.

“Sir, we were assigned cleaning detail.” He explained. “We were just finishing up.”

The Jedi bared his teeth. “Doesn’t look like much cleaning was taking place to me.”

He surveyed the rest of the troopers, but turned his head back to Rose.

“What is your designation?”

“CT-7673.” Rose recited immediately, keeping his back ramrod straight at attention, even though the Jedi was deep in his personal space. He knew this man. General Krell had quite the reputation through the GAR, and Rose had no clue what he was doing outside of the Jedi Temple this late at night.

“Who is your commanding officer?”

“Captain Rex, sir.”

“Not a clone! Is there a malfunction in your design?!” The Jedi bellowed. A few feet behind him, Hardcase flinched at the sudden loud sound, but Rose held still. “Your general, CT-7673! Who is your Commanding Officer!?”

“General Skywalker, sir.” Rose said instead. The canteen was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

He turned his head, noticing the little radio on the table and picked it up, the device small in his massive hands, raising an eyebrow at Rose. “Contraband, disturbance of the peace, behavior unbecoming of an officer, insubordination.” He hissed. “That’s plenty of grounds for a court martial, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.” Fives spoke up, taking a step towards them. “Proper chain of command designates General Skywalker as the one to hand down a court martial order, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with contempt. “With all due respect, sir, you do not command this battalion, and cannot order a court martial on the Lieutenant.”

“Fives.” Rose snapped, whipping his head around to face Fives. “Stand down. Now.”

The ARC Trooper shrank back, his hands curled into fists at his sides, and the General turned back to Rose.

“Be that as it may,” he began icily. “You can rest assured this breach of conduct will not go unreported.”

“Yes sir.” Rose replied stiffly.

General Krell pulled back at last, surveying the battalion. “I want this canteen spotless, and not a word out of you in the meantime!” He ordered. “And I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.”

With one quick motion, he smashed the radio in his hands. Rose heard a soft, hurt sound somewhere behind him, but ignored it. He didn’t look away from the General.

“Dismissed.” Krell growled, turning and stalking towards the doors. “And as for you,” He turned, jabbing one large finger at Fives. “I’ll be mentioning you in my report as well. Pray our paths do not cross again, clone.”

And with those words, he left the canteen.

Rose relaxed, but only minimally so. The silence hung heavy over the 501st, and everyone quietly shuffled back to work.

Rose gripped the mop handle tightly as he worked, his knuckles turning white. His chest burned, a tight, constricting feeling wrapped around his insides. It was a feeling he’d never felt before – anger, sadness, humiliation, resignation – all rolled into one hateful ball, coiled in his gut.

“Finished with the kitchen, sir.” Came Tup’s small voice. He’d put his hair back up, the tight bun back to regulation standards. Dogma was standing stiff beside him, still not entirely relaxed yet. “And the um – the canteen area’s just about wrapped up as well.”

“Very good.” Rose said with a small nod. “I’ll report back to Captain Rex, let him know we’ve finished for the night.”

“Sorry about your radio, sir.” Hardcase murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, ‘Case.” Rose smiled, but his eyes were sad. “It was – it was old, anyway. Just a silly thing.”

Fives bristled, his jaw setting as he tossed the bucket he’d been holding back into the supply closet with far more force than necessary.

“We aren’t supposed to leave base for the rest of the night, right?” Denal asked, arms folded across his chest as they finished the last of the cleanup. “Guess we could play Sabacc or something back in the barracks?”

There were a few murmured agreements, and the 501st shuffled back towards the barracks. Rose was still thinking about the General, and had a bitter taste in his mouth. They hadn’t been doing anything wrong, really.

Was it such a crime to enjoy oneself? To simply exist?

Fives and Echo fell into step on either side of Rose, the ARC Troopers bracketing their Lieutenant. “I bet Echo and I could rebuild the radio.” Fives offered. “Might take a little bit, but even if we can’t, Kix is real good at bartering stuff down in the markets. Remember when he got us those HoloDisc movies for just a tube of bacta?”

“We could find another radio for you?” Echo suggested hopefully. “Or maybe,” he lowered his voice slightly. “Maybe Y/N could find you one?”

“Let it go.” Rose said, picking up the pace and pulling away from the ARC Troopers. They reentered the now far tidier barracks, and Rose gravitated back to his footlocker, starting to close it up and push it back under his bed. The metal clacked slightly against the edge of the bunk, and he paused, the tinny sound echoing in his ears.

He knocked the footlocker against the bunk again, listening to the little noise again.

Kark it. He was more than just a mindless flesh-droid. He was a person. A human being. And he liked music.

And he wasn’t about to let anybody take that away from him.

“I never got to do a song.” He announced, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips.

“You can’t be serious, sir.” Dogma said, shaking his head at him. “Haven’t we gotten in enough trouble?”

“I’m sure the General’s slithered back to the Temple by now, where he belongs.” Jesse replied, turning back to the Lieutenant. “We don’t have a radio anymore, sir.”

“We don’t need one.” Rose said, pulling his footlocker back out and propping up one leg on it. He tapped his foot against the metal, the rhythm settling, nodding his head along. He took a deep breath.

“Standing in the rain, with his head hung low. Couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show.”

Fives recognized the song, and started tapping his foot along, drumming his hands on an overturned weapons crate.

“Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene. Put his ear to the wall, then like a distant scream.” Rose climbed up onto the table. “He heard one guitar!”

Jesse slammed a bucket from earlier down against the supports of a bunk, the loud clang mimicking the strum of a guitar.

“Just blew him away. He saw stars in his eyes, and the very next day, bought a beat up six string in a secondhand store. Didn’t know how to play it, but he knew for sure, that one guitar!”

Another clang, this time from Kix repeating Jesse’s motion, and Echo, Denal, Coric and Fives were all drumming on overturned buckets and crates.

“Felt good in his hands! Didn’t take long to understand, just one guitar, slung way down low, was a one way ticket, only one way to go.”

Tup and Hardcase had picked up a brush – typically used for scrubbing their blasters and armor down – and were knocking it against the durasteel wall. Dogma had rounded up the others, a look of sheer determination on his face as they clamored around the bunks and tables, smacking their fists in rhythm with anything they could get their hands on.

“So he started rockin', ain't never gonna stop. Gotta keep on rockin', someday gonna make it to the top!”

Rose stomped his feet, and the rest of the 501st joined him for the chorus.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero!”

“He took one guitar,” Rose sang, while the rest of the battalion echoed “juke box hero, stars in his eyes” around him. “Juke box hero, he’ll come alive tonight.”

The singing quieted down, listening for a moment to see if anyone was coming, and Rose grinned, starting again and pitching his voice low.

“In a town without a name, in a heavy downpour, thought he passed his own shadow, by the backstage door.”

The clones took position, preparing to resume their makeshift instruments as Rose picked up in volume.

“Like a trip through the past, to that day in the rain. And that one guitar, made his whole life change! Now he needs to keep on rockin', he just can't stop! Gotta keep on rockin', that boy has got to stay on top!”

Once again, shouts rang out as his brothers joined him for the chorus, their voices louder and more determined than ever, refusing to be silenced.

“And be a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. He's a juke box hero, got stars in his eyes. Yeah, juke box hero, stars in his eyes. With that one guitar, he'll come alive, come alive tonight.”

As they finished the song, Rose panted softly, glancing down at his commlink again. He decided he was going to go off base after all. He wanted to see you, and nobody, not his Captain’s orders, and definitely not some karking General like Krell, was going to stop him.

“Dismissed.” He said curtly, and took off out the door without another word.

SONGS USED (because they’re all bangers and you should listen to them):

The 501st (introduction): Hotel California Echo: Hooked on a Feeling Fives: Kickstart My Heart Kix: Sharp Dressed Man Jesse: You Give Love a Bad Name Coric and Denal: Come Sail Away Dogma: Zombie Tup: Dancing in the Dark Hardcase: Walk This Way The 212th and 501st: I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) The 501st (Canteen finale): Don’t Stop Believin’ Rose and the 501st: Juke Box Hero

TAG LIST (Aka everyone on the tag list for BAON): @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex @bubblegumcat229 @generalcannoli @hellothere501stlover @in-the-crosshairs @vaderthepotater @for-the-love-of-clones @babyhowzer @imrealatedtothe501st @chewychewyque @bobafettuccini @baba-fett-writes @chromia7567 @coffeeandtodd @thedomesticatednerd @kirinpl @djarrex @a-c-lee @embarrassedauthornerd @kaorikoizumi @the-girl-of-rain-and-shadows @sammi9498 @theroguesully @salaminus

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flightlessangelwings · 3 years

Text

Hot Chocolate and Kisses

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: none really, fluff, Marcus being a perfect boyfriend

Notes: This is part of the Laundry Day series, but can be read on its own. Link to the rest is in my masterlist. I imagine in this setting that the Heroics are like celebs, and Marcus is too much of a sweetheart to turn people down. I hope y’all like this cause I had fun writing this one!

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire as you walked towards the coffee shop. It was hard to believe that just a week ago you bumped into the most handsome man you had ever seen in your life. You felt luckier than ever that he gave you his number when you asked and actually called you the very next day. This whole date was Marcus’ idea after you chided the hot chocolate stain on his shirt the day you met.

“The hot chocolates at this place are the best,” he insisted on the phone and it didn’t take much more convincing from there.

You picked out a casual outfit, but you still felt cute. A coffee shop date was the perfect start in your eyes: fun, casual, and laid back. It had been some time since you had dated, but there was something about Marcus that made you want to take the chance again. You lingered at the door for a moment and took in a deep breath before you stepped inside.

Marcus was already there and he spotted you immediately as if he watched for you every time someone walked through the door. The truth was that his eyes did dart right to the door every time it opened in the hope that it was you. He was just as nervous as you were. It had been a long time since he had been on a date that he thought he forgot how to do it. But the smile on your face when you spotted him made all the nerves melt away.

“Hey,” Marcus gave you a half smile as he stood and pulled a chair out for you, “You look nice.”

“So do you,” you felt butterflies in your stomach at the compliment from him. He was dressed casually as well in a nice shirt and jeans, you noticed he wore his glasses again. It was a look you absolutely loved.

“Not wearing ‘don’t talk to me’ today?” Marcus joked. When you tilted your head in confusion he clarified, “That’s what Missy and I call that shirt.”

When you met Marcus at the laundromat that day, you wore the exact same shirt as his daughter and you all had a laugh about it. “No, I want you to talk to me today,” you joked back.

Marcus grinned as he glanced down, “I hope you don’t mind I got you a drink already,” he seemed nervous as he gestured to the two mugs on the table, “They make this s'mores hot chocolate that no one else in the city has and I wanted you to try it.”

Your eyes lit up, “I love s’mores!”

Marcus gave you a light-hearted laugh that made your heart skip a beat, “Cheers then.”

It was as if the two of you had known each other for months instead of meeting for the second time. Conversation flowed so naturally with Marcus and you both made each other laugh with ease. Everyone else in the cafe seemed to disappear and all that was in focus to you was Marcus.

But, there were others in the cafe. And some of the others seemed to stare at your date a lot. You furrowed your brows in confusion but you didn’t say anything. Marcus either didn’t seem to notice or he just didn’t pay the lingering eyes any mind.

“Excuse me, Mr. Moreno,” a woman with her son tapped Marcus on his shoulder, “Would you mind taking a picture with my son? He adores you.”

Marcus glanced over at you with an apologetic look before he answered the woman, “Of course.”

You watched in silent awe as the woman’s son leaned against Marcus and smiled widely for a photo. The kid rambled on for a few minutes about how much he admired him and how cool he was before his mother ushered him away. Just as Marcus turned back to you, someone else approached him and asked for a photo as well. You sat still in silent confusion as people crowded your table and fawned over your date.

“Marcus Moreno, use your powers!” one child spoke up above the crowd.

“Yeah! Let us see!” another bounced around, and a chorus of children joined in.

“Alright, alright,” Marcus chided with a grin, “But then I have to get back to my date here. Deal?”

The children all cheered and nodded their heads enthusiastically.

That was when it dawned on you: your date was Marcus Moreno, the leader of the Heroics. Your mouth dropped open as the realization came over you. Suddenly, you felt so stupid that you didn’t know who he was until that moment and you hoped he didn’t think less of you for not bringing it up sooner. But a pair of hands on top of yours shook you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to see Marcus’ apologetic face right in front of yours, “Sorry about this,” he leaned in and spoke to you in a hushed tone, “After this I’ll be done, ok?”

All you could do was nod as you watched him stand and survey the cafe. He looked around for something he could summon. A grin graced his face when his eyes landed on a vase on the counter on the far end of the room and he reached his hand out to summon it. You watched in awe along with everyone else in the cafe as Marcus concentrated all of his energy into the vase and within moments, the vase shot across the room and into his outstretched hand.

Applause filled the room as all the children bounced around, but Marcus barely even noticed it. He plucked a single flower from the vase and handed it over to you. He didn’t know it at the time, but it just happened to be your favorite. You glanced down at the flower before your eyes trailed up his arm and to his warm face. You couldn’t help but smile at him as you took it from him and immediately sniffed it.

The flower somehow smelled more fragrant than it normally would have, and you attributed that to the fact that it came from Marcus. While you were lost in thought again, Marcus thanked everyone and wished them well before he sat back down in front of you, “Sorry, that usually doesn’t happen much anymore.”

“Marcus Moreno?!” was all that shot out of your mouth. When he gave you a questioning look, you cleared your throat and sat up a little straighter, “You’re Marcus Moreno.”

“Yes…?” it was his turn to furrow his brows. He sat in contemplation for a moment before a smile lit up his face, “You really didn’t realize?”

You felt yourself heat up in embarrassment and your eyes darted down to the table, “No,” your voice was week, “You Clark Kent’d me Marcus!” you quipped in a stronger voice.

That made him burst into laughter, which you joined in after a flustered moment. His smile was unlike anything else you had ever seen before, and the sound of his laughter was something you already knew you wanted to hear every day. There was something about Marcus Moreno that just drew you in completely. Maybe it was his warmth, his kind eyes, or his thoughtful mind. Either way, you found that you already wanted another date with him and this one hadn’t even ended yet.

The two of you fell back into conversation after that and you talked for so long that he got you both refills on your hot chocolates. You tried to pay for this round since he bought the first ones, but he insisted that he would pay. The barista grinned at him as he ordered, but he didn’t even notice. He was too busy looking at you every chance he could.

Marcus just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face whenever he did. He felt like a schoolboy with a crush again, and his heart pounded in his chest whenever your eyes met his. Your energy just drew him in completely and the more he learned about you the more he liked you.

“Traditional hot chocolates this time,” he said with a grin as he sat the mugs down.

“I’m happy with anything Marcus,” you replied sincerely as you wrapped your hands around the warmth.

Conversation flowed again with ease. You talked about your job and your hobbies and asked him about what it was like to be a part of the Heroics. Marcus happily answered your questions, especially since you asked things that no one else did. Your mind definitely intrigued him without a doubt. He was attracted to you physically of course, but your mind was what really drew him in. By the end of the date, Marcus’ cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“It’s getting late,” you said reluctantly when you noticed that the sun had gone down, “I should get going.”

Marcus stood with you, “Let me walk you to your car.”

“Thanks,” your smile lit up the room as you let him walk you out.

Parking in this part of town was always a pain. You had to park a few blocks away, but Marcus didn’t mind. To him, it was just more time he got to spend with you and unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way. You also found you felt safer with him by your side, and it wasn’t because he was the leader of the Heroics. Marcus already felt the intense need to protect you, so it was a no brainer that he would walk you to your car.

“Well, this is me,” you gestured to your car as you fiddled with the flower in your hand, “I had a nice time, Marcus.”

He bit his lip, “I did too,” he shifted on his feet as he gathered his courage and suddenly felt nervous again, “Can I take you out again? Maybe dinner next time?”

You felt your heart flip in your chest and you thought you almost choked on it, “I’d like that.”

Marcus felt like he could go in every direction at once, but he kept his cool. He shuffled closer to you until your bodies were just inches apart. Your eyes went wide as you froze, but you didn’t move. You were sure he heard how hard your heart pounded in your chest, but if he did he didn’t say anything. He whispered your name and when he saw your eyes glance down to his lips, he made his move.

As much as he wanted to kiss you on your lips, he didn’t want to overstep. Instead, he leaned in and kissed you on your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch as you held onto his arm. His mustache tickled your skin, and you giggled softly but made no attempt to move away from him. The warmth and softness of his lips was everything you imagined it to be. You found yourself wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your own. But at the same time, you liked how he took it slow with you. There was already the promise of another date anyway, and you both couldn’t wait for that day.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagine #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 2 years

Note

Song: “Sunset” by The Midnight

Character: main Rider of your choice ^_^

There are several Riders who I feel would fit with this song, especially the line “make our home where we stand, one suitcase and half a plan” so I’m interested to see who you pick! Also I love this song and everyone should listen to it, lol.

Hey, hon! I picked, uh...every main Rider of Heisei Phase 1, Kuuga through Decade. It got a little long.

Readers, please note that these little vignettes are all set after their respective series, and may contain spoilers.

Song: "Sunset," The Midnight (Spotify)

sunset, no regrets

we could run away

The beach is crowded, and Kaoru briefly regrets caving to the affectionate pressure of his friends and booking a vacation in Hawaii. He could have gone somewhere quiet and had time to himself, instead of being in the middle of such riotous noise.

At the same time, though, the sun feels nice on his shoulders, and there’s a good wind. He hasn’t been swimming in years, really. Honestly, he hasn’t been entirely comfortable going to public pools since…he doesn’t go to pools anymore. But the ocean is different. The ocean smells nice, and the sound of the waves is soothing even coming as it does only underneath layer after layer of voices. He can relax here a little. At least, he’ll try to.

After some hunting, he does find somewhere to sit that’s a bit away from the crowd. He spreads out his towel, sits down, and pulls out a novel. Even if he’s not quite ready to swim, he can at least get some reading done.

He’s barely three pages into the book when his concentration is briefly shattered by a chorus of dismayed shouts from a crowd of children down the beach. Some itinerant entertainer has apparently decided to pack up for the afternoon. The children continue to protest and then disperse, in ones and twos and little clusters, and he can return his attention to the page.

At least, for a few more lines, at which point a shadow falls over the paragraph he’s reading and a man says, “Hey, this is an awfully big beach towel for one person, you mind sharing? I forgot to bring mine, would you believe it?”

Irritated, Kaoru opens his mouth to say something and then has to stop as he’s struck by two simultaneous realizations.

The first is, this man is speaking Japanese. Not that there aren’t other Japanese holidaymakers in Hawaii, on this beach even, but it’s still surprising.

The second is—he’s already looking up. He’s looking up, and the sun is in just the wrong place for this, and the hair’s the wrong shape, but the mouth is the same, broad and grinning, the eyes are the same, and he says, “Godai, I don’t believe for a second that you actually forgot to bring your towel, you’re the most prepared man I’ve ever met.”

“Well, yeah, you got me. But it’s all the way over there,” with a vague gesture down the beach, “and you’re over here. So obviously I’d rather be over here. Who finally managed to make you take a vacation?”

“Your sister, actually. I was in Tokyo on a difficult case and I showed up at the restaurant for lunch I think…eight days in a row? She scolded me because I apparently had bags under my eyes, and then she got everyone else to start bullying me too.” He’s not crying. It’s just how bright the sun is that’s a problem. “She was even the one who suggested Hawaii, did you…tell her you were here?”

“I mean, I might have mentioned I was heading here the last time I wrote, I don’t actually remember.” Godai sits down on the towel next to him. “You look great.”

“So do you, you’ve gotten very tan.” He’s not crying. “It’s good to see you.”

Godai just looks at him for a moment, and then shifts on the towel, turns his back, and lies down with his head on Kaoru’s leg, as comfortable as can be. Looking down at him like this, it’s easier to actually see his face, and then he looks up at Kaoru and says, “Good morning, Mr. Ichijo,” just like he did three years ago on a rooftop in Tokyo.

Kaoru stares down at him and is maybe crying a little, but he’d never admit it out loud, and says in return, “Good morning, Godai,” despite it being two in the afternoon.

The grin is blinding. “You can call me Yusuke, you know.”

“I know,” Kaoru says, voice hoarse, “but if I do then I’ll almost certainly cry, and I’d rather not do that with so many people around. Similarly, you can, ah.” A droplet of water falls on Godai’s face, and Godai very politely doesn’t acknowledge it. “You can call me Kaoru.”

“Kaoru. Ok. I’m sorry I’m interrupting your reading, by the way, but you mind if I get some shut-eye? I figure we can catch up later, but I had a really late night, I had to climb a tree. Actually, that’s not accurate, I had to climb…” some counting on fingers, “I think it was three trees? Maybe four.”

“You had to—you can tell me why later. Of course. Rest all you like.”

He half expects Yusuke to get up and head back to his own things, but the sunny, “Awesome, thanks,” is followed by him closing his eyes and promptly falling asleep with his head still in Kaoru’s lap.

After a moment of surprised blinking, Kaoru allows one hand to drift down to rest on Yusuke’s hair, and then goes back to reading.

---

one suitcase and half a plan

The rain is torrential, the wind is high, and Shouichi’s only halfway through the dishes when he hears knocking. He frowns. “Hey, Makoto? Were we expecting someone?”

Makoto leans into the kitchen, also frowning. “I mean, I wasn’t. You didn’t tell Ryou to stop by, did you? Or Mana or someone?”

“No, definitely not.”

More knocking.

“So we should probably see who that is, it’s pouring outside.”

The person on the doorstep is very young-looking, soaking wet, and visibly terrified, and Shouichi gets the door open as they’re raising their hand to knock a third time. They freeze, staring wide-eyed from inside the hood of their sweatshirt, and then say, very slowly, “Are you. Are you Tsugami Shouichi?”

Shouichi blinks. “Yeah, that’s me. Are you looking for a lost dog? I saw one come through the garden earlier but I couldn’t catch it.”

Damp head-shaking as lightning cracks over head. “I. Um. The lady, the lady at—Miss Okamura said come see you.”

A beat, some peering, and then, “Here, you’d better come inside. Hey, Makoto, get a couple of towels, please? And maybe some spare clothes or something? It looks like—what’s your name?”

“Harada Haruko.”

“Haruko is soaked.”

Fifteen minutes later, Haruko is sitting on their couch, practically swimming in some of Shouichi’s old clothes, wrapped in a blanket, and clutching a cup of tea in both hands. Shouichi sits down next to her and says, “You want to tell me what happened?”

She stares into her teacup. “A goose scared me and I yelled at it and it. It d. It died. And the lady at that French restaurant was outside when it happened and she saw and she said I should come see you.”

Makoto catches Shouichi’s eye over Haruko’s head and mouths, “She’s an Agito?”

Shouichi nods back and then says, to Haruko, “That’s my restaurant, Rina works for me. Has that sort of thing happened before?”

“I…I can move things with. With my mind. But don’t ask me to do it now, I can’t do it on purpose mostly except—”

“It’s ok, I believe you.”

She sniffles and takes a gulp of tea before choking out, “I never killed anything before.”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to do it now.” He reaches out and pats her on the wrist comfortingly, and she lets out another watery sniff. “Most people don’t mean to hurt anyone, it’s just a bad thing that happens. Do you remember when it started happening? Being able to move things?”

“Um. I think. A year and a half ago?”

More than an hour later, Haruko’s drunk two more cups of tea and eaten all of the leftovers from dinner and finally gotten through her halting story, and her energy’s clearly starting to flag. Shouichi peers at her and then says, “Do you need me to call your par—”

She’s shrinking into the blanket and the oversized sweater before he even finishes the sentence, and Makoto says, from the doorway, “I already made up the spare room.”

Twenty minutes after that, she’s passed out asleep in the second bedroom, and Shouichi looks up at Makoto and says, “That was sweet of you.”

“I called the precinct while you two were talking, I think we can, ah, hold off on calling her parents indefinitely. And I finished the dishes.” Makoto glances back towards the closed door of the second bedroom. “I’m almost surprised she didn’t end up at Ryou’s.”

Shouichi sighs. “No, Ryou gets the ones who are scared of everyone else. I always get the ones who are scared of themselves.”

---

first chance

Shinji would live in this tea shop if the old lady would let him.

Honestly, the fact that she lets him set up his laptop in here once or twice a week is a miracle already. She’s not exactly the friendliest person. For some reason, though, she’s decided she likes him. Maybe because he helps with the dishes at the end of the day, and he does make sure to keep buying tea. Plus she always wants to hear about what he’s writing—today it’s an article about locals who say they have psychic powers, she’s going to eat it up.

The tall guy’s back again today too. They’re not always here at the same time, but Shinji can tell whenever he comes in, because of the way his stupid coat swishes when he comes through the door. Today he spends twenty minutes or so talking with the old lady up at the counter, quietly. She starts out looking annoyed, and Shinji almost gets worried, but then the look on her face softens and he relaxes a little bit. Then the swish swish swish again as the tall guy heads back out, with a pause at the door so he and Shinji can peer at each other suspiciously.

“I just don’t trust that guy, Mrs. Kanzaki,” he says as he’s washing plates at close. “Something about him seems off.”

She laughs, the little chuckle that always sounds unhappy to him even if she says otherwise. “Who, Akiyama? You’ll have to learn to get along with him eventually, Kido. You missed a spot.”

“Oh, I did, sorry—why’s that?”

“He wants to buy the place, and I think I’m going to sell it to him.”

“You’re. You’re going to what? Why? And wait, that guy wants to run a tea shop?”

“He’s nicer than you give him credit for.” She glances up at him sidelong. “Terrible personality, but what can you do? He reminds me a little of my late grandson. Anyway, I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but I’m getting old.”

Shinji blinks innocently. “Are you? I thought you were my age.”

She punches him in the arm, but very gently. “Don’t flatter me, Kido. I want to move somewhere warm, and Akiyama’s been moping around here ever since that girlfriend of his broke it off with him, he knows the whole place. He’s got the money and I like him. Don’t worry, I told him you’re a fixture. He’ll have to learn to get along with you too.”

He blushes. “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Kanzaki.”

She snorts. “I’m not kind, I’m selfish. I’m old and tired and lonely and I like having you around the place with those big dopey eyes of yours. Like a puppy, only you do dishes and you can reach higher shelves than I can.”

He sputters for a few moments before managing to speak again. “I’m a—well, I guess it’s good to know what you actually think of me.” A few moments of silence as he does more washing, and then, “I’ll miss you, Mrs. Kanzaki. But if you really want to sell this place to that guy…I guess I’ll have to keep coming by to make sure that he takes care of it right.”

She doesn’t quite smile. She never really smiles, not once since the first time he met her. Her eyes go soft, though, just a tiny bit, and she nods. “Good.”

"So what'd you say his name was? Akechi?"

"Akiyama." She squints up at him. "I'll tell you what, Kido, he's coming by again tomorrow to talk terms, you set up in your usual spot and I'll introduce you."

---

lazarus, we're coming back

Kaido takes his coffee black and visibly steaming, but with about five sugars, and Takumi's tongue is practically withering just from the smell of it. "How can you even drink that stuff?"

"Oh, because you've got such a sophisticated palate," with a raised eyebrow at Takumi's glass of fruit juice. "Coffee's good. Sometimes, if I drink enough of it, it almost feels like my brain is working. Used to go through gallons of it in school."

"That's probably not good for you."

"Whaddo I care? Actually, what do you care? We're both dead anyway. Speaking of which, uh," an awkward pause before, "how are you?"

Takumi shrugs, swallowing his mouthful of sandwich. "Pretty much the same. Squinting a lot. You?"

"I'm...the picture'a health, actually." Kaido frowns fleetingly.

"You're not having…" Takumi also frowns, gesturing vaguely at his own eyes, "problems?"

"Nope. Still living for free, too, I keep waiting for Smart Lady to stop by and kick me out but I think maybe she's not gonna."

"Maybe she likes you."

"With legs like that I kinda hope she does." Another one of those uncomfortable beats. "How's. Uh. How's Mari?"

Sip of juice. "Fine. Lonely." Another sip. "She misses Kusaka."

"She seriously misses that guy?"

"She misses what he meant to her. He was...he kind of, he kept her connected to when she was a kid? Like, yeah, he was a massive creep, and she gets that, but she doesn't have a lot of classmates left. There were never a lot of them anyway." Takumi stares at the tabletop. "Did I mention Mihara died? So it's just her and Rina, and Rina's busy with the orphanage all the time, and Mari misses having someone living with us who she was a kid with."

"Mihara? Delta? He died?"

"Stroke. Apparently the Delta Gear kind of puts a lot of strain on the body."

"Fuck, man, that's grim."

"What isn't?"

Silence, for a while. Takumi finishes his juice, goes up to the counter and buys a sandwich, eats it in slow, contemplative bites. Kaido continues to work his way through his enormous, oversweet coffee. People pass by on the street, come in and out of the bistro and take no notice of them. Just two guys, sharing a light lunch and thinking about death.

Then, finally, Kaido drinks the last sugary sludge of his coffee and says, "You got a dream yet?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What the hell kind of answer is--no, I don't fucking believe in--yeah. Ok. Yeah, maybe I believe in ghosts a little. Dead man walking, I oughtta maybe believe in ghosts."

"I've been dreaming about Kiba a lot lately." Takumi stares down at his half-eaten sandwich. "I think maybe he's haunting me."

Kaido doesn't answer for a moment, and then says, eyes narrowed, "You liked that guy a lot, didn't you."

"...yeah. Yeah, I did."

"I. Uh. I mean. If it's any consolation, I'm...pretty sure he liked you a lot too. But, but also you know that's not what I meant, asshole, you got a dream or anything?"

"Not really." Takumi shrugs, and then he smiles, just a little, staring off into the middle distance like he's seeing something--or someone--that Kaido can't. "I think that's the only dream I need."

---

they say it's darkest before the dawn

First he had to get money on his phone card, and then it took some work to find an actual pay phone, but at least there's no one else waiting to use it at this hour of the morning. Kazuma stares out at the foggy streets as he listens to the ringing on the other end of the line, wondering if he should stay in Sweden a little longer after he takes care of this or if he should head somewhere else.

Click as the line picks up, and then, "Good morning, you've reached BOARD, office of the pres--"

"Mutsuki. It's me."

Pause. Clattering as Mutsuki definitely drops the phone and then scrambles to pick it back up. "Kenzaki?"

"Yeah." Kazuma grins at his own reflection, imagining the startled look on Mutsuki's face. "I'm in a phone booth in Sweden and it is incredibly foggy here, it's amazing. Is Tachibana free?"

"I, uh, he's on a conference call with D&P right now, but he'll get off that if he knows it's you."

"You know I don't like to interrupt him, but this is actually kind of important, can you go get him?"

"Uh, sure, can I put you on hold for a second?"

"Of course. Although, uh, first--" Kazuma swallows hard. "Is Hajime getting any better at basketball?"

A pause, and then an awkward laugh on the other end of the line. "He's improving, yeah. Still not as good as me, though. And Amane had a growth spurt, she's nearly at his shoulder now."

"Oh wow, that's a lot. Ok, sorry, thanks, could you go get Tachibana for me?"

"Sure thing."

A click as Mutsuki puts him on hold, and he spends a minute or two listening to BOARD's terrible hold music, and then another click and some scrambling and Tachibana's voice saying, nervously, "Kenzaki? Is that you?"

Kazuma grins again. "You sound so nervous about it, who else would be calling this number claiming to be me?"

"You'd be surprised, I was on the phone yesterday with a group called ZECT--never mind that, look, how, how are you?"

"I'm...doing well, you know, considering. Europe is nice. What about you?"

"I think I've nearly succeeded in repairing BOARD's reputation, we just established an archaeology scholarship fund with Jounan University. And I was over at Jacaranda recently, did Mutsuki tell you that Amane had a growth spurt?"

"He did, and that Hajime's getting better at basketball." Kazuma tries to smile, hoping that Tachibana can't hear his voice falter. "Anyway, um, you're probably wondering what's got me calling you from Sweden at two in the morning. I found something."

A sharp intake of breath before, "What kind of something?"

"A statue. It makes my skin itch whenever I go near it, and it looks like...it looks like him. Hajime. Or, you know, the other guy. It's...I spent about an hour just staring at it yesterday. And there's an inscription on the base that I can't read, but I think it has something to do with the Sealing Stone, I'm hoping BOARD might be able to arrange to get a look at it."

Another sharp breath, and then a long exhale. "What do you need from me right now so that we can make this happen?"

Kazuma shifts awkwardly, even though he knows that nobody else is out on the street right now to see him and the only person who might be listening in is Mutsuki. "Well, the statue's in a local museum, and mostly I need to know that I can give the director your name and contact information. And also I need some money so that I can take her out to dinner."

A beat, and then--Tachibana's laughing at him. "You need me to transfer you bribe money."

"It's not a bribe, it's a business dinner."

"That you're going to use to charm this museum director into shipping a piece of her collection to Japan on academically shaky grounds." Tachibana's still laughing. "And you're going to be very earnest about it and she's going to fall slightly in love with you, because you have that effect on people." Kazuma starts sputtering, but Tachibana just continues with, "I'll have Mutsuki transfer you some funds this afternoon. Let us know if you need more."

The tension goes out of Kazuma's shoulders, which is startling, because he hadn't realized that he was so tense. "Thanks, Tachibana."

"It's the least I can do. Ah, do you think you might find yourself in Austria any time soon? I'm going to be flying to Vienna in March for a conference, it would be nice to see you."

Another release of tension, enough that Kazuma finds himself smiling again. "I think I might be in Vienna in March, yeah."

"Wonderful. And, ah, Kenzaki?"

"Yes?"

"Send Hajime an email or something, would you?"

Now he actually laughs."I know, I'm the world's worst correspondent. I'll email him. I promise."

---

follow the words and sing along

"Does it hurt when I do this?"

Kyosuke opens his mouth, clearly intending to give an actual answer, and then cuts himself off abruptly with, "Ow, fuck."

"Ok, yeah, that's sprained." Asumu starts carefully unwrapping the bandage around Kyosuke's ankle, biting back laughter at Hibiki's expression and the sight of Kyosuke very obviously trying not to curse more. "I mean, I can't really confirm that without an X-ray, which I can't do because I'm, you know, nineteen and not even in pre-clinical studies yet, but I know how to handle a sprain just from hiker resc--ok, who wrapped this?"

Kyosuke's mouth sets at the corners, and Hibiki coughs awkwardly. "Kyosuke did it himself. Under my instruction, of course. We were--oh, that doesn't look good."

"Yeah, you can get that striped bruising when you don't wrap it correctly. Like, nothing's actually wrong, it just looks really nasty--come on, Kyosuke, don't make a face at me, it's really hard to wrap your own ankle. Especially when you've never done it before."

Kyosuke's scowl doesn't lessen even slightly, but he does at least have the good grace to blush. "It hurt a lot, it was hard to focus."

"Yeah, that's fair, sprains suck." Asumu reaches for the fresh roll of bandage on the table, grasps at air, and then nods in absent thanks as Hibiki passes it to him. "You actually did a really good job for a first time, like, I've seen people make their sprains way worse before, but this is gonna look gross for a few days." His hands are steady and sure as he begins wrapping the new bandage. "Mostly you need an ice pack and some Advil, but you'll have to take a couple of weeks off from hunting. So what were you guys doing? You said something about...mushrooms?"

Hibiki nods. "Yes, there's a particular mushroom that can be dried and powdered for use against one strain of Makamou, Kyosuke spotted a patch of them and took a tumble down a hill when he was--"

A soft knock on the door frame, and Tachibana Hinaka's stomach precedes her into the room. She's balancing a tray on it, in fact, very carefully, moving at a sort of stately trundle as she steps over the threshold. "I come bearing dango for the wounded warrior and his entourage. You'll have to reach up for it, though, I can't exactly bend."

At her Kyosuke smiles, nose going pink as he reaches up to take the tray from her hands. "Thank you, ma'am."

She grins at him. "You've gotten so polite, I love it. How's the doctoring going, Asumu?"

Asumu's fastening the bandage as he looks longingly at the plate of dango. "I mean, it's more first aid than--fine, it's going fine, how are the twins?"

"Taking up more space than I'd like." She pats her stomach. "I hope you're ready to deliver a couple of babies, I'm really sick of being pregnant. Kasumi's getting sick of it too, maybe you can deliver hers at the same time and the cousins will all have the same birthday."

Asumu turns bright red and mumbles, "I don't know how to deliver a baby, Ms. Hinaka." Kyosuke snorts. Hibiki covers his mouth with a hand and mutters something about not being mean to the boys, and Hinaka snickers and heads out of the room again, as slow and steady as before.

"So," Hibiki says once she's out of the room, "are you going to share those dango or what?"

Kyosuke freezes in the act of reaching for a stick. "Obviously, yeah."

"Wonderful, could you pass me a--thanks, fantastic." A pause, and then Hibiki leans forward and pokes him gently in the ribs with his free hand. "Also, you're backsliding, isn't there something you should be saying now?"

Kyosuke glances sidelong at Asumu, blushes again, and says, "Thank you for taking care of my ankle, Asumu," before passing him a stick of dango.

Asumu grins at him. "Any time."

Hibiki cranes his neck to examine Asumu's handiwork as he's sliding a dango off his stick. "That looks excellent, Asumu."

"Thanks!" Asumu flashes him a smile. "It's because I've trained."

Hibiki and Kyosuke both stare at him for a moment, and then Hibiki breaks into a broad grin and says, "All right, I deserved that," as Kyosuke stifles a burst of laughter.

---

even bad guys know good love

Sou is sitting on a park bench, eating a cup of instant noodles and staring out at the water, when he hears footsteps slow behind him. Slow, and then stop, and there's the prickle of eyes on the back of his neck. He listens, gauging and guessing, and then says, "I'm not a spectator sport, Tendou," and takes another bite of noodles.

A beat before Tendou says, "No, you aren't," and then another pause before, "May I sit with you?"

"Who's stopping you?"

He doesn't look up as Tendou sits, waiting until the man's settled before even glancing at him. Stylish and impeccably groomed as always, wearing a vivid blue scarf that he definitely didn't pick out himself, carrying a reusable jute bag filled with a tasteful selection of expensive groceries. He looks no older, no less poised and collected than he ever did.

"So was there something you wanted, or are you just stopping by to remind yourself of your place at the center of the universe?" Sou takes another bite of noodles. "I should probably remind you that historically I don't react very well to being laughed at."

Tendou stares out at the water. "I'm not here to laugh at you. I wasn't even looking for you."

"But here you are anyway."

"Here I am anyway." And--there's a flicker, a momentary disturbance of Tendou's statue-like serenity. "It has been pointed out to me that I owe you--"

"If you say you owe me an apology," Sou says, not looking at him, "I'm going to punch you in the stomach."

"Not an apology. A debt. For certain things which, when they occurred, I did not care enough to prevent."

"Hm." Beat. "So what'd Kagami do to put you up to this, promise you a treat if you came and made nice at me?"

Tendou makes a soft sound, not quite laughter. "No, actually, he said he'd never speak to me again if I made no attempt to reach out to you. I've learned over the years not to discount the power of his intent."

Sou has to hold back a laugh himself, imagining that conversation and very nearly able to hear the threat in Kagami's voice. "He's an interesting man."

"I often say that myself."

"So there was stuff you could've stopped if you'd given a shit. Why should you have cared? He never meant anything to you."

"No." Another glance shows Tendou staring out at the water still, fingers tightening on the handle of his grocery bag. "But he meant something to you, and to himself, and that should have been sufficient to deserve my care."

"You're wrong about one thing."

"Mm?"

Sou swallows a mouthful of cheap, salty broth. "He didn't mean anything to himself at the end there. But he did mean something to me." Another sip of broth, and the cup is empty; he crumples it and tosses it one-handed into a nearby wastebasket. "And I'm not interested in giving you absolution."

Tendou is silent, throat visibly working in the corner of Sou's vision, and then says, "That is entirely your right. Is there anything that I can--"

"You can buy me a decent lunch."

"I would be happy to make--"

"I don't want to eat anything you've cooked. Buy me lunch and then I don't ever want to see your fucking face again. That's what you can do for me."

"...name the place and I will buy you lunch."

They sit together in silence for a few minutes. The weather is beautiful, the wind is good, the water smells nice, and yet Sou feels like he's looking at it through black gauze, dimmed and indistinct. He hasn't spoken of Hell in some time, since he generally has no one he cares to speak to, but that gauze, that dimness of the world, that's Hell.

Tendou hasn't left yet.

"So what else is eating you? Hoping if you hang around me long enough you'll figure out how to get your win back?"

There's a pause, and an uncomfortable shifting next to him. "My sister will not eat my mapo tofu. She says that yours was the best she's ever had."

That, somehow, makes Sou crack the very smallest of smiles. "Good. I'm not giving you my recipe."

A barely perceptible sigh of disappointment. "I would not expect you to."

---

i'll go with you

"Airi said she'd have dinner with me on Saturday."

Ryotaro blinks, processing this, and feels himself start to smile. "Hey, that's great! Where do you think you'll take her?"

“We had a really good conversation,” Yuuto says, which isn’t an answer. “Do you ever feel weird about the fact that your whole life’s already kind of planned out for you?”

“…what do you mean?”

“You know. The whole…fate thing. I mean. We know my daughter. We met your grandson.”

It takes a moment for Ryotaro to figure out what he’s asking, and then the impact of the thought is nearly enough to make him rock on his heels. Not that he hasn’t considered it before, but it’s so much every time, knowing how much apparently depends on him living his life in exactly the right sequence. Lives hang in that balance, people who may never have the chance to live if he makes the wrong choices, says the wrong things, meets the wrong girl or no girl at all—

Yuuto says, “Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel about it too.” He takes a sip of his coffee, and he does make a face, but he’s clearly making an effort. “I’m not sure I’m the guy that I’m supposed to be, you know? I hardly even know that guy.”

Ryotaro nods. “I know what you mean. People keep telling us who we’re going to be, and it’s not as if they’re just making decisions for us, they know.”

“They know and we don’t.”

“Yeah.”

Another sip of coffee, another wrinkle of the nose, and Yuuto looks older than he did. Not in a bad way, just—aged, not stuck in time. Maybe some of that’s just the way his face works, that he looked so young for so long, but he’s actually starting to seem like an adult. Maybe Airi’s seeing that?

Still, though, he doesn’t look anything like Ryotaro…remembers him looking. Inasmuch as he can remember it at all. Or talk the way Ryotaro remembers him talking. The other him, that is. The other him seems like a different person.

He’s met plenty of people from all over time, now. He’s not sure if he could handle meeting himself.

“Hey, don’t space out, I’m having an existential crisis here.”

Ryotaro jumps. “Right, yeah, the crisis, sorry. I was just, I was thinking about—”

“No, not that crisis, this is a new one, I think I’m starting to like black coffee.” Yuuto stares at his cup. “Next I’m going to start liking shiitakes and Deneb’s going to cry. Hey, look, we’re figuring this out together, right? I don’t just have to work this whole future thing out myself? You’ve also got stuff that you’ve gotta do and nobody’s telling you how to actually do it.”

“Of course.” Impulsively, Ryotaro reaches across the table and grabs Yuuto’s free hand. “We’re family…somehow, right? What’s the point if we don’t have each other’s backs?”

---

taste so sweet it hurts a little

When did the house get so crowded?

Wataru’s lived here for his entire life, and he can’t once remember the house being crowded. He can, when he thinks back, remember the occasional visitor when he was very young, indistinct adults who generally spoke to him little if at all. For most of his life, though, it’s just been Kivat and business visitors—someone from the bank if he needed to draw funds, sometimes delivery people before he was old enough to take things in himself, tutors whose origins he’d always been unclear on.

Then, a few years ago, he’d agreed to take a student, and there’d been Shizuka, and he’d had to speak to her face-to-face without hiding behind the door. And then Megumi, talking to him whether he liked it or not. And now—

Now, tonight, the house is crowded. With Shizuka and her mother, Shizuka playing violin in the living room as her mother sings along in a slightly out-of-practice but still sweet mezzo soprano. With Megumi, who is newly pregnant and twitchy and irritable, and Nago, who is handling Megumi’s pregnancy by looking perpetually dazed. With Taiga, and Taiga’s absolutely terrifying girlfriend Erika, who works for a business acquaintance of his and who ate more at dinner than anyone else while still maintaining an incomprehensible rapid-fire conversation about cosmetics with Megumi. With Maya, who is presiding regally over the gathering, looking pleased with herself.

The house is crowded, and Wataru is hiding in the kitchen.

Well, he’s not…he’s not hiding.He’s just taking a breather.

There’s a faint scratching sound, and then Kivat drifts down from his violin-case nest and says, “Hey, Wataru, aren’t you backsliding a little? Shouldn’t you be out there with everyone instead of hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding.” Wataru takes a deep breath. “There are just…a lot of people in the house right now.”

“I’d noticed. I want to ask your brother’s girlfriend what happens at Kougami Foundation that she needs to carry a small semi-automatic in her purse."

"Kivat. Don't go through her things."

Kivat loop-de-loops in the air. "How else am I supposed to keep an eye on you?"

"Anyway, it's just, I'll go back out in a minute, but it's. It's really crowded."

He stands over the sink and inhales deeply, breathing in a whiff of varnish from a semi-successful experiment that had nevertheless mostly gone down the garbage disposal. The familiar stink helps to steady his nerves, and to steady them further he starts going through the recipe in his head. Tweak the liquor content, maybe. Using imported bourbon might be a little extravagant, but he's got a good feeling about the color tone he could get—

Someone knocks on the door frame. "Can I come in, or do you need another minute?"

He straightens up. "It's fine, I'm fine now. Come in."

Taiga grins at him, stepping over the threshold from hallway to kitchen with his hands in his pockets and taking a deep breath in, as if he, too, wants to savor the bite of varnish underlying all of the lingering cooking smells. "Too crowded for you?"

Wataru nods. "Still not used to having people in my house."

"Seems fair enough, it's only been a couple of years, you had it to yourself your whole life before that. Mother was asking where you'd gone."

"Which means she wanted you to come get me."

"Pretty much, yeah. Megu's decided she wants to play some kind of game, and once you come back in we'll have an even number of people for teams."

“Oh, good, Megumi wants to play a party game.” Wataru glances at his brother sidelong, feeling himself start to smile again. “You don’t suppose it’s too much to hope for one of our kids from the future to show up with some kind of emergency?”

Taiga grins at him. “Not really likely, no. But we can hope.”

---

last dance

Daiki is teaching Yuusuke how to dance.

They’ve pushed everything out of the way in the studio and put up an old backdrop that Natsumi found, a heavy canvas on which flaking paint depicts a grand European ballroom detailed in scarlet and gold. “It was for some goofy rich couple’s wedding pictures, some actor and his girlfriend,” she’d said as they pulled it out of the storage, “they had a big themed wedding and got this painted specially and then they left it with us and we never used it again.”

Now she’s leaning against the wall and tapping time with her foot and watching as Daiki and Yuusuke spin very slowly around the room, and Daiki’s saying, “Just follow my feet. We’re both doing the same thing, the only difference is I’m moving backwards.”

Yuusuke nods, following Daiki through a turn. “So how do you know how to do this?”

“Oh, you know. I learned it in school.” Daiki’s voice is deceptively light. “Social dance promotes social harmony, and it’s terribly important to promote social harmony.”

Tsukasa, next to Natsumi, raises an eyebrow. “And they taught you how to follow, specifically? Instead of lead?”

Daiki’s mouth twitches, and when he replies this time the lightness is more genuine. “Well, as a rule that was sort of the curriculum, but no, in school I was always paired off with some girl or other and I’d lead. You taught me to dance the other part.”

“…I did? This isn’t you messing with me?”

Another careful turn, and Yuusuke flashes a grin up at Daiki as their movements begin to smooth out. Daiki doesn’t quite grin back, just smiles his frustratingly catlike smile and completely fails to answer Tsukasa’s question.

Tsukasa shifts uncomfortably, and Natsumi glances at him and then reaches over to grab his hand. “Dance with me.”

“You know how?”

“Yeah, that same couple who had that backdrop made had me and Grandma come out to do pictures on their wedding day and the groom’s little sister taught me how. I was twelve or something, but I’m pretty sure I remember what to do.” She tugs him away from the wall. “Come on.”

He may not remember the steps, but apparently his feet do, and that’s enough to make everything work. They don’t collide with Daiki and Yuusuke, either, at least until they do, and then it’s less of a collision and more a change of partners, so that now Daiki is dancing with Tsukasa and Natsumi is dancing with Yuusuke. A few more turns around the room, and then another half-collision, and Daiki and Natsumi are now dancing together quite comfortably while Tsukasa and Yuusuke trip over their own and each other’s feet trying to figure out who’s going to lead. The conclusion is, in the end, neither of them, as they finally fall down and narrowly miss bringing down the backdrop with them.

Daiki and Natsumi stare down at them for a moment and then sit down on the floor at well, trying and failing to conceal laughter.

“I can’t be perfect all the time,” Tsukasa says, with as much dignity as possible.

Daiki grins at him. “I wasn’t going to comment. Maybe it’s time to break for lunch, anyway, we’ve been at this for a couple of hours now.”

Natsumi and Yuusuke make agreeing noises, and Tsukasa glances over at the backdrop hanging motionless on its roller and says, “We might as well take our time with things. We’re not going anywhere today.”

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