#i have never wanted more to tap and squeeze him like an almost empty ketchup bottle

[hyunpic]

#hyunjin #skz #q #these glasses looked familiar to me but i think im just thinking about that sponge bob ep where he wears glasses #fantaken #stray kids #i have never wanted more to tap and squeeze him like an almost empty ketchup bottle

[secret-rendezvous1d]

s5 spencer having a hair band on his wrist just has me thinking about him always having a hair band on his wrist for y/n in case she ever needs one 🥺

This is so soft *cue heart eyes*-

He never really thought of her as unorganised.

Having been with her for a little over four years, it became known to him that she was a rather organised yet messy person when it came to her life outside of the office. Her home may not have been immaculately organised and there were out-of-place and out-of-date magazines left in a pile on her coffee table and there were many opened bottles of tomato ketchup and mayonnaise and hot sauce amongst unopened ones and her tea bags never went into the pot they were supposed to because she preferred the box they came in, but that almost contradicted to her as a person. Routine-wise, he had a joy for that and there was a sense of schedule that he liked about her having morning and a night-time routines and he found himself picking up on some of her casual activities because they did them together when he stayed at hers and she always made sure she never strayed when she stayed at his. 

Her desk, which sat adjacent to his desk in the bullpen and gave him a perfect view of her and of her workspace whenever she was sat there, was always so perfectly set up so that she knew where all of her stationery and her paperclips and her highlighters and post-it notes were. All within easy reach, all in specific places that she organised when they were messy and refilled when they were all empty, so he never really expected her to forget anything that would be classed as a necessity for her. 

Organised seemed to be something she succeeded at... until it came to hair-ties and any other hair accessory that she needed.

She might walk into work in the morning with her hair down by her shoulders but it was always one-hundred percent likely that she would end the day with her hair thrown up in a messy bun or a ponytail, if she had a hair-tie around her wrist, to keep it from becoming an issue through the day. But, in a haste to leave her home in the mornings, it wasn’t something she remembered often and Spence first started noticing not that long.

Hearing her ask JJ or Emily if they had a spare hair-tie she could borrow for the day, asking Garcia after a briefing had finished because the meeting gave her time to check her wrist and notice there wasn’t one there, and he often caught her rummaging around her drawers to see if she had one lingering around in the office that she had forgotten to take home one time. To no avail, sometimes, and he could see her deflate.

It became a habit for him to nick a few from the drawer under her sink and keep them in a place where he could easily find them at his own home, entering the work-day with one on his wrist until she needed one, to replace it with another one.

“Do you reckon Penelope has some hair-ties?”

Spencer overhears the question she asks Morgan, trying not to steer his eyes away from the book he was holding in his hands because he didn’t want to make it obvious that he was listening and waiting for his moment to shine with what she was after, reading over the same line as he awaits Morgan’s answer.

“I don’t know, darlin’. She’ll probably try and dig around for one for you but I doubt she’ll come across one. Have you seen her desk?” He laughs and the sweet and angelic sound of her giggle makes it to Spencer’s ears and, this time, he can’t help but look at her and smile when she catches eye contact with him just a few steps away, “Have you asked JJ? She’s usually got some spare.”

“I did,” Spencer watches her face frown and the tie around his wrist seemed to get a little heavier as his mind pointed it out, “she said she needed to refill and didn’t have any on her right now. Prentiss doesn’t have any either.”

She tells Morgan not to worry, waving him off as he had informed her he was dying for a coffee before the next briefing began, and her feet take her towards her desk. The office chair squeaking beneath her weight as she sits down and rummages through all the nooks and crannies of her desk, just to see if one had fallen into a space, hoping for some kind of miracle but coming short.

“Is this what you’re after?”

She looks over to her boyfriend and sees a black hair-tie dangling from between his fingers, a gasp relieved from the grin on her lips as he stands up and walks the few steps towards her, leaning against her desk as he passes it to her and watches as she gathers her hair into a ponytail and tightens it with the black elastic. The teasing from Morgan and the questions from the girls in the office seemed like nothing when it was the smallest things and the sweetest gestures that made his girlfriend smile.

“Where did you find one?”

“I might have nicked some from your drawer at home. I’ll keep one on my wrist every time we step foot in her in case you forget one and need one for the day,” he explains, her fingers pulling soft tendrils to outline the side of her face so that it didn��t have a fully slicked-back look, running her fingers over the top of her head to give it a more distressed look, “I figured, you know, since you’re always forgetting one.”

She can feel heat on her cheeks and she grabs his hand, squeezing it softly and kissing the back of it, his other hand coming up to brush a stray hair from her eyes.

“Have I told you I love you?”

“Of course,” he states, tapping a fingertip to her nose, “you tell me every chance you get.”

“Then let me tell you again...” xx

#spencer reid chats #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagines #matthew gray gubler imagines

[blissfulalchemist]

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” + WesCat (Friendship)

Thank you for sending this in! Please enjoy Kate!

The phone vibrated away for the third time in a row as Cat looked at the screen. Wren’s name showed up again and Cat couldn’t bring herself to hit the hang up button as she laid curled up in bed. The time on the phone read two in the afternoon, she was supposed to be at work today, she called off last night, not telling Wren. It had to be the reason she was calling Cat now, wasn’t like Cat to just not show up with no warning. 

She had tried though, the whole week she kept going to work, putting the smile on her face, keeping herself upbeat and busy….and still she would sit in her car exhausted and crying driving home or to Raf’s. She stopped going anywhere else but home and work a few days ago. Her communication limited and dwindled over the week with everyone. Now, here she was not even going to work or making contact with anyone. 

Cat groaned and put the comforter over her face, shielding the small rays of light peeking through the curtains. She didn’t want to be mean but she also didn’t want to have to explain everything to Wren. They were just starting to become friends and she didn’t want to screw that up….though she probably was by ignoring Wren’s calls. Catlina sighed under the sheets, I’ll text her after a nap. Tell her I came down with a cold and I’ll be back to normal soon. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Wes slammed the door of the cruiser gathering the bag of hamburgers and drinks from the roof of the car, making his way to Wren. She had found a picnic table with a good view of the river, something she normally enjoyed admiring if she didn’t seem frustrated looking at her phone. She hit the redial button as Wes got himself and their lunch settled, her foot tapping as she waited for someone to pick up. Wes could hear the faint voice of a computer woman informing Wren that she should leave a message for whoever she was calling. Wren rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, letting out a breath, “Hey Cat it’s me Wren….again. Look can you just call me back when you can? I’m worried about you.”

Wes looked at Wren, eyebrow raised, “E’erything okay?” He asked as she pulled out her burger and fries taking a sip of her drink. 

She sighed shrugging, “Mostly. I just- Well Cat didn’t come into work today. They said she called out last night.”

Wes shrugged, “Maybe she got sick,” he let out a small laugh, “Raf finally gave her food poisoning.” He took a bite of his food watching as Wren tapped a French fry against the paper surrounding the burger. 

“That’s the thing though,” she started, “He came in and asked for her. He told me he hasn’t seen her for a few days now and she cancelled their plans for the week. He was hoping to bring her lunch.”

Wes’ mind replayed all that she had said, the pieces starting to click. Wren had the two statements backwards, Raf was bringing lunch because he hadn’t seen her due to the canceled plan. Cat was wanting time alone and during those times she didn’t always eat or care for herself as she should, Raf was trying to gauge how bad she had gotten. If she was still making it to work things weren’t bad yet, if she missed she was getting to a point where she needed more care. It had been awhile since she got this bad. “He tell ya not to worry?”

“Yeah, but how can I not worry,” Wren drew lines in the ketchup, “She’s my friend, Wes. We just started to get close and now she disappears like this,” she shook her head, “just doesn’t feel normal for her.”

Wes reached out, grabbing Wren’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll check on her. Think I know where to start.” He gave her a reassuring smile before going back to finishing their lunch quickly. Wes watched as Wren drove away in her Jeep before pulling out his phone sending a text to his friend: 

Going to check on her. Unless you already did. 

The response time was quick from Rafael:

Haven’t gotten a chance yet. Still at work. I'm going to when I finish, I’ll meet you at her place when I do. 

Wes nodded to himself as he put his phone away starting up the car making his way to the small studio above the Spread Eagle. Her purple sedan was parked next to him behind the building, a good sign. Wes looked at his key ring spotting the silver key with a pink flower sticker at the base, spares Raf made without her knowing after last time. Felt wrong to have it without her knowing but last time they had to break the door down after she stopped communicating for almost a week. It was a bit of a misunderstanding as to what the two men had walked into that day; Cat passed out in the bed, a medication bottle emptied on the counter, another, sleeping pills, beside her empty, the small uniformed cuts along her inner arm is what kicked their worry into overdrive. Both men worked to try and get her to wake up or respond to them in some way. When she wouldn’t they rushed her into the car making their way to the hospital. 

The actual story, Cat hadn’t eaten for three days straight and hadn’t slept for two days, she’d taken two sleeping pills to try and help get back to normal. They hadn’t agreed with her as she sleptwalked, her body trying to go about a normal day, flushing the sleeping pills down the toilet in the process. The cuts were shallow and created not for the purpose of wanting to die but for trying to regulate her mood. Rafael and Wes were halfway to the hospital by the time she started to wake up. 

Wes hoped it wasn’t so bad this time as he walked up the stairs, it seemed like they caught it early this time around. The studio was small and easy to see the mess of brown hair underneath the blankets, and other than the mess of dishes and take out, everything else seemed to be as it should be. He shut the door quietly as he walked towards the mattress on the floor, she was breathing still, asleep, but breathing. Her phone rang with another call from Wren, hand reaching to try and turn it off, Wes beating her to it. She didn’t wake and Wes didn’t want to wake her. He looked around and decided to pick up some of the empty food boxes and dishes lying about, trying to not make too much noise. When that was done Wes took the time to text Wren and Raf with his findings, his friend getting more details, leaving it up to Cat on how much she wanted to tell his girlfriend. He took a seat on the chair she had, turning the tv on to a low volume, the cooking he’d leave to Raf once he got here. 

By the time Catlina had stirred the sun had started to set and her stomach was twisting in hunger. The only other light in the room came from the black and white cowboy movie Wes was watching, she didn’t want him here. “You don’t need to keep watch,” she mumbled, turning to face the other side, “This isn’t a psych hospital.” Her hand felt around for the sleeve of crackers that she left on the other side of the bed last night, “Where are my crackers?”

“They ain’t a meal,” he replied, looking at his phone.

She grumbled, closing up into more of a ball clutching her stomach, “Don’t feel like cooking.”

Wes got up to look in the fridge, “You got leftovers,” he opened them making sure none of them were bad. Cat stayed silent as Wes let out a slow breath, “That bad huh?”

It was bad that she hadn’t even been able to heat up the food in the microwave, more than that though it felt like too much work to eat the meals. Crackers were easy and less hassle, she could keep them near, never had to leave the bed to eat. She felt her eyelids get heavier, the energy leaving her body quickly, “I’m tired Wes. You should go home.”

He shook his head pulling out some pasta they had over the weekend, the contents going onto a plate and then the microwave. She covered her head, the aching in her chest feeling painful, her eyes shutting as she tried to keep the tears from falling. “Take your meds today?” Wes asked as he nuked the food another thirty seconds, trying to figure out if she had based on what was left in the bottle. Math was never his strong suit and it looked like this would be something to leave to Raf when he got here. 

He grabbed the plate bringing it over to the bed sitting next to her, offering it to her. She looked up at him through narrowed eyes, the smell of the food calling her to wake up and eat. She gave a small shake of her head, her stomach betraying her. 

“Gotta eat. Worked hard on it,” he joked, smirking, putting the plate closer to her face, “Ain’t leaving till you eat.” Catlina sighed, releasing herself a little from the ball she had put herself in. She grabbed the fork with a bite on it chewing slowly once the pasta made contact with her mouth. As soon as she swallowed she felt like it was going to come back up. Wes set the plate on the ground next to him, “Here,” he grabbed her, moving her so her back hit the wall and she was mostly sitting, “Better.” He put the plate in her lap, getting up to grab her some water. Wes looked back at her watching as she slowly brought another bite to her lips, her hand falling limply back to her lap. 

Wes scavenged her cupboards for the stash of kool aid powder she had lying about, there was a lot she had stashed trying to keep her air of decent eating habits with Rafael. It was a mystery as to what she would do once they decided to finally just move in together, she’d still try to find places to hide them. He finally found what he was looking for in the top of a cupboard, “Do you jus’ climb everywhere?” He asked, reaching for it, his eyes straying to a plastic container with a panting coyote with a bright red tongue and a red pepper running away in victory. Wes pulled it down also looking it over, habanero pepper peanuts, his favorite. He looked up to Cat who had moved on to the third bite, “Thought you didn’t like spicy peanuts?”

She looked up to him briefly, her eyes not fully focusing on him, “I don’t,” her voice flat, “Got them for you.” 

Wes set the peanuts down, “They’re my favorites.”

“I know,” her tone of voice made it sound so matter of fact, Wes’ heart fell a little at the difference in his friend. 

“Raf?” He guessed, giving a smirk looking at the comical picture.

She shook her head, “No. You told me that night we got drunk, when we played twenty questions.” Wes mixed the water with two spoonfuls of mix, “It’s four spoonfuls.”

He rolled his eyes adding the two more scoops, “You ‘membered that?”

She gave a small shrug, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Wes stopped stirring the drink taking her in as she continued to look down, “I kept an eye out for them,” she gave a small snort and smallest of smiles, “I almost bought the whole box they had in the store for you.” She looked up to his face, “Only reason I didn’t was ‘cause I became unsure if they were the ones you mentioned.” Wes looked down to the container of peanuts, the corners of his mouth lifting, “Meant to give them sooner but….,” he made his way over to her as he saw her eyes fill with tears, “Sorry I didn’t. I didn’t mean to, I just-.” 

His arms wrapped around her tightly, Cat stiffening before returning the hug weakly, “Thank you. I love it.” He pulled back away from her with a giant smile on his face, laughing when his eyes looked at the bottle’s picture. 

Cat did a double take, “Wait,” she looked at his face, blinking back the tears, as he tried to go back to containing his emotions, “Wes did I sleep my way into an alternate universe or did you really crack an actual smile?”

“What of it?” he replied, getting up to grab her drink, waving off her comment.

Cat looked down pushing some hair behind her ear, the ache in her chest alleviating a little, “Nothing, just-. It- well you should smile more. It lights up a room.”

Wes didn’t respond, just shook his head as his phone went off, glancing briefly at the screen, “Raf’s here.” Cat looked down at the plate of pasta, it wasn’t very filling for her and felt tasteless.

“You think he’d-,” she stopped listening to something outside. It was muffled but was clearly music and nothing that would be played in the bar below. Cat tried to place the melody of the song, feeling it familiar, “With her sweetened breath,” she mouthed, “and her tongue so mean,” the song title hitting her, someone was playing Hozier outside her window. The knock at the door proved it to not be Raf as he walked in placing a grocery bag on the counter. 

She was slow as she moved off the bed, comforter wrapped around her as she made her way to the window. She pushed the curtain back a little looking down, there in the neon lighting she saw Wren, portable speaker in hand above her head. Cat opened the window a little bit, the song clearer now, Wren smiled at her, “Wes said you weren’t feeling well!” She shouted turning the volume down a little, “Thought you could use a little bit of a pick me up!” Cat gave her a smile, turning back to Wes who was already making his way to the door. 

Cat only turned away once she saw Wes come up the side of the building, making her way to Raf in the small kitchen, resting her forehead against his shoulder. He smiled, placing a kiss on the top of her head, “Should I make the usual, Conejito?” She turned her head looking at what he had on the counter through her messy hair, boxes of Kraft mac and cheese in various shapes and a package of hot dogs. She felt her eyes fill with tears nodding against him. He moved the arm she leaned against to wrap around her shoulders pulling her closer to him, “As you wish mi amor,” he gave her a kiss on her forehead as Wren walked in through the door. 

“Okay I want in on this rotation now,” she demanded gently pulling Cat towards her. Wren gave her a once over before pulling her in a hug, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she said into Wren’s dark hair, “I didn’t mean too.”

“No need to be sorry,” her hands ran over the blanket where Cat’s hair was, “Should have told me. You know I would understand,” Cat nodded against her, “But I know it’s because you don’t want to feel like burdening another person in your life. Now I know and I’m telling you that I do not feel like you are a burden.” She walked Cat back to the bed, “We’ll still give you the space you need,” if she wasn’t so tired Catlina would laugh at how quick Wren was in taking control of the situation, “but one of us will come by to make sure you’re at least eating one proper meal a day, got it?” Wren pointed a finger at her waiting for her response, Cat nodded, “Good. Now I made sure to get you at least a week off from work so you don’t have to worry about that. And tonight we are all watching your favorite movie and having dinner before we leave you alone.” Wren sat her on the bed taking a spot next to her grabbing a few movies options Cat had lying around. 

Cat nodded, snuggling into Wren, resting her head against her shoulder, “Thank you,” she said softly. Cat glanced to the bed’s orientation, “We should turn the bed around. Make sure there’s enough room for all of you to sit comfortably.”

Wren smiled, lying Cat down, “Wes,” she instructed pulling his attention, “You heard her. Let's get this bed reoriented.” They were fast at making sure the long side of the bed faced the television, Wren settling back into place next to Cat. She helped her pick a movie that they all could watch while the two men cooked. Bowls were passed around once the food was done and Stardust was loaded up to play. The group only paused the movie to switch from dinner to dessert; a pint of raspberry cheesecake ice cream for Wren and Cat, lemon bars from a local bakery for Raf, and the spicy peanuts for Wes. 

Cat was exhausted by the end of the movie and watched as everyone put things back in order. Wes put the bed back into place when she reached for his hand, he sat next to her on the bed, “Why did you call them here?”

“You needed us,” Cat looked down avoiding his face, “Can’t tell me you’d do any different.”

“You guys deserve all the love in the world,” she sighed, closing her eyes.

“So do you,” Wes laid her down, “It’s what friends do. Remind you how loved you are.”

#brotp: red brooks bros #Uhm yeah friendships that help the other are like my life blood okay #captain xwing

[timelock97]

Game Changer

Chapter One: Lost and Found

Word Count: 4524

Warnings: Language, mentioning of adult things

_________________________________________

I shift the bag over my shoulder as I slam the back door to my beat-up car and lock the door. My eyes fall on the not-so-far-off building as I begin walking across the crowded parking lot. First day of college, not that it should have been too much of a problem since I knew the small community college building well. I grab my phone out of my back pocket and bring it out so I can triple check the room number I was headed to.

My whole left side slams into something, er someone, causing me to gasp and my phone to tumble from my hand. Our hands bump into each other in an attempt to soften the fall or attempt to catch the device, but to no anvil. It lands on the ground with a small crack, causing me to wince, and I let out a small sigh, “Fuck.”

“I am so sorry,” the guy whispers as I lean down to grab my phone, “I was trying to make sure I was going to be heading to the right lecture and-”

“It’s fine,” I smile standing up and flipping my phone in my hand to check for cracks, and thankfully there are none. I flip it over to show him that no harm had been done, making him sigh in relief. That’s when I get the chance to really look at him; tall, tanned skin, golden honey eyes, and long purple hair that was thrown up in a pony-tail. God was he pretty. I let out a gentle laugh before continuing, “First day jitters got me too.”

He looks down, a small blush coloring his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck, “Believe me when I say they have been plaguing me all day. Especially since I am not from around here.”

“I can see that,” I giggle.

I watch as he rubs the back of his neck, “Um, is there any way you could show me where I am supposed to go?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I say, motioning him to follow me as I walk the rest of the way toward the building, “Where you headed?”

“Business 101,” he states as he follows me inside. We walk over to the schedule sheet, his face turning a darker shade of red now that he sees it. “I could have done that, I’m sorry-”

“No, you’re fine, this school is a maze. Here,” I motion for him to follow me again and move down the hallway. “So, where are you from?”

“Galar,” He states, chuckling when I give him a confused look. “It’s an island off of England. Not very well known, but it’s home.”

“Is it beautiful?” My curiosity is piqued, as we get to his classroom, the teacher is already speaking with a few students that are inside.

“It is.” He smiles, nodding his head and shifting his backpack. “Um, thank you again…” His voice trails, and the way he is looking at me says he wants to know more.

“(Y/N).” I smile, moving my hand out to shake his hand, my other hooking itself underneath my backpack strap.

“(Y/N),” he smiles when he says it, reaching and taking my hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “Leon.” He looks down again and shuffles his feet, “I would love to continue talking but I don’t want you to miss your class. Is there any way that I could maybe get your number?”

I nod and laugh, making a new contact and passing it to him. “As long as you promise to not try and break my phone again.”

“I can promise I will not try to break your phone.” He states as he types in his number. When he is done, I notice he makes a face as he passes his phone back. “Boyfriend?”

I blink at him in confusion before I glance down at the screen, the background is a picture from prom earlier that spring, my boyfriend’s arm is wrapped around my waist as we smile at the camera. “Oh, yeah, he’s at a university so we have been trying to keep in touch.”

He nods, and gives me another smile. “Thank you again, (Y/N), I’ll text you later?”

“Sounds good.” I smile, walking backward a wase before spinning around and heading to my class, heart feeling a little lighter than when I left that morning.

Leon quickly becomes one of my closest friends, and someone I rely on everyday. He is one of maybe three people that I text on the daily, hell I hear from him more than the guy I had been dating for two years. Leon slowly is picking up my habits, double texting when I forget to text back, and offers to hang out when I need to get away from school. So when my first practical comes up, and all at once I go quiet with no reason for it, Leon knows that something is wrong.

The tapping on my shoulder pulls me from my mindless scrolling, eyes lifting up to see Leon smiling at me, or at least until he sees the bags under my eyes. “Shitty weekend?”

“Yeah,” I whisper smiling a little more as Leon hands me a cup of hot chocolate, my phone finding its home back inside my hoodie pocket.

“Want to talk about it?”

I open my mouth, but the thought of admitting my broken heart only causes me to look down and hide the tears in my eyes and shake my head.

“Hey,” he says, taking my hand that isn’t holding the cup. “If you want, I can wait until you finish up with your practical and we can hang-”

“I have an exam after too, you shouldn’t have to wait for me.” I whisper as to not let the quiver in my voice show.

“I’d rather know you’re okay. I’ll wait in the lobby after my class and we can go out and get food. Then we can talk, or I can talk and you can laugh at me making myself look like an idiot, okay?” I nod, a small laugh leaving my lips, but don’t look at him. He places a hand on my cheek to gently force me to lift my head, and that’s when I know that he knows. He gives me a sad smile before tugging me into his chest for a hug. “You’re going to do fine on both your exam and your practical. You got this, (Y/N).”

I wrap my arms around his back and give him a firm squeeze, “Thanks, Lee.” I take a small step back before smiling at him. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

“See you in a few.”

~

“He’s a dick-” Leon states as he shoves four fries in his mouth, making me laugh. “I’m serious, he is.”

“He was a good first boyfriend though, never had to worry about well, that.” Leon looks up, an eyebrow raised with a fry hanging from his mouth. “Sex, Lee.”

His eyes bug out and he coughs as I slide him his water which he gulps down. “Holy hell, (Y/N)-”

“You wanted me to be honest!” I giggle, stealing a fry from his plate.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be blunt.” He coughs, shaking his head and making his hair fluff around his head.

I gaze back down at my now empty plate, looking at the swirls of ketchup left on the plate. Once he had calmed down, I decide to speak up. “Hey, Lee?” He hums in response. “Thanks for checking in on me today, and doing this.”

I glance at him to see him already looking at me. He places his hands on the table, palm side up. He playfully pats the table making me laugh as I place my hands in his. “There is no place I would rather be. I was worried about you. I knew you were studying, but you’re usually better at replying, so I could only assume something had happened. Especially since you had mentioned what that idiot was doing.”

“Lee…”

“The way he treated you wasn’t right. If he wasn’t going to keep the relationship going then he should have talked to you about it before it went this far.” He shakes his head and gives my hands another firm squeeze, “You deserve better.”

I give his hands a gentle squeeze back. Smiling, I let out a small teasing laugh, “Are you better?”

He shrugs, giving me a bashful smile. “Well, I don’t know about that. Right now, all I want is to be here if you need me. That okay?”

“Sounds like the kind of friend I need right now.”

~

2 years later

“Another date?” Lee’s voice echoes through the phone as I lay in bed in pajamas, hand placed over my eyes as to avoid the brightness in the room.

“Don’t you another date me. Tracey has been on Tinder, she said it’s a good start-”

“This is the third start,” Lee groans, I can almost hear him counting them on his fingers. “You let one friend set you up on a date with one of their friends that ended up with no call back. Then you met that guy at that oddball coffee shop and talked to him for what, three weeks until he couldn’t get the hint you weren’t ready for a relationship, especially that early. And now, it’s a date from a guy you don’t even know!”

I let out a soft laugh, “You’re worried-”

“Damn right I am!” He basically yells into the phone. He groans for a second before his voice softens. “I just want you to be happy, and I don’t think this will do that.”

“I have to get back out there somehow, Lee. I start my program in the fall, and I just want to try something.” I roll over and look at my side table, seeing the two photos that sit on it. One is of Ginny, my best friend, and me. The two of us are in our prom dresses from high school. The other was of Leon and I from a night of just hanging out. He had happened to lift his phone to snap a photo to send to his little brother while we were laughing at something. “And I’m being safe, staying in town, and driving separately.”

“Good, I want you safe, and I don’t care what time you get home, text me so I know you’re safe. Okay?”

“Sure thing, Lee.” I smile, nodding softly. “I’ll let you go, I know it’s late there.”

He lets out a soft sigh,“You’re worth losing sleep over.”

I slam my car door shut and let my feet drag as I trudge back up the steps of my house. One word, awkward. He couldn’t hold a conversation. More than that, I just wasn’t comfortable. Looks like text conversations didn’t transfer to real conversation.

“That bad?” My mom asks, almost laughing at the way I kick my shoes off and toss my purse over the chair.

“Never again.” I groan, pulling my hair out of its hair tie and letting it fall. I throw my hands up into the air and walk past her, hearing her laugh as I stalk to my room to change into comfy clothes.

As I change, I notice my screen light up. I flop across my bed and see Leon’s response to my ‘made it home’ message.

_______________________________________________________________

Lee Lee

You’re home early

How bad was it?

(Y/N/N)

Let’s NOT talk about it

You were right

I was wrong

Let’s leave it at that

_______________________________________________________________

Once the messages send, I finish changing and toss my clothes in the hamper. The screen lights up with Leon’s face. I laugh as I grab and place it to my ear, “Gonna tell me you were right and I was wrong?”

“No, you already stated that,” he laughs as I roll my eyes at him, “Just want to know what went wrong.”

So I tell him in full detail, and when I get to the end I let out a small sigh. “I think I’m just doing this all wrong.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Cause they’re all the same! Awkward awkward awkward. This is the reason I have always stated that I need to be friends with the person first. Then it’s a different sort of awkward, ya know?”

“It’s just first date jitters, not 'I’m meeting this person for the first time’ jitters on top of it.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, rolling over so I can grab the picture of Leon and I off the side table. That, that’s what I wanted. Easy, comfortable, simple change; and that had always been Leon.

“You should let me take you on a date. These guys don’t seem to know how to treat a woman.” Leon teased after the first guy never texted back after our date.

I had always shrugged it off, but what if?

I nervously bite my lip, contemplating even saying what had been on my mind the past few months. “Do you remember when Adam and I broke up, you told me that I deserved better?”

There is a small pause on the other side of the line, “And you asked me if I was better?” The curiosity was evident in his voice, I can hear him sitting up, in what I can only assume is his bed.

“Did- would you- when you come back, I mean. Would you want to go on a date?” My eyes are staring at the comforter underneath me, and when he doesn’t say anything, panic sets in. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought, you know what nevermind-”

“(Y/N), hey,” I hear him laugh, “You have to let me answer before you back track.” He is giggling, and I feel the blush to crawl across my cheeks. “I wasn’t planning on coming back until the fall, but,” he sang the last word, making me laugh. “I miss you, so I’m going to go, uh, talk to my boss about coming out for two weeks. Then we can see about that date.”

“Really?” The joy and excitement was evident in my voice, making him chuckle into the phone. “That sounds perfect, Lee.” I smile, biting my lip before glancing at the clock, it’s late where he is. “Am I still worth losing sleep for?”

“Always, darling.”

Thinking back, Leon had been the obvious choice for a boyfriend. A long-term boyfriend. He was kind, cute, knew what made me tick, and just fit the weirdness criteria that I needed to function correctly. But, the night of our first date ended up happening three weeks after it had been planned.

Lee had to plan with his boss about taking some time to come back, and since they were mid-season, he couldn’t just leave willy-nilly. But, he got the two weeks off with some badgering.

He offered to pick me up, and we decided dinner and a movie would be perfect. Of course, not everything ever goes as planned; especially when Lee doesn’t have an internal compass. He missed our exit, twice. Then we missed the movie, so we looked for a later time which was much later than either of us wanted.

I opted for us to just go get dinner instead, which led us to a bit of a fancier restaurant that needed a reservation to even get into. When I could tell that Lee was getting frustrated, I smiled at the server he was trying to persuade into letting us in and just wrapped my arms around his arm to draw his attention toward me.

“Why don’t we just drive down the road to that little diner we saw on the way in? We could get burgers and milkshakes?” I bat my eyes at him, which caused him to chuckle.

“Whatever you want, darling.” He hums, moving his arm that I was holding onto to wrap it around me before apologizing to the server and walked out with me.

Once inside the car, I whip out my phone and type in the directions making Lee sigh. “What’s wrong, Lee?”

“I just wanted to make this date perfect, and I just keep messing it up-”

“Leon,” I place a hand on his arm, making him look at me. “This is so typical of what we do, and that is what makes this date so perfect, because it’s just us. I don’t need fancy, I just need you.” Now that I had said it out loud, I could feel the blush fall across my cheeks.

Leon opens and closes his mouth, trying to find the correct words before he just smiles at me and nods. “Arceus, I’m so lucky I bumped into you that first day.”

I giggle, taking his hand that he places on the middle console as he gets ready to pull out of the parking lot and back into the main drag. As we drive, something crosses my mind. “Did you just say Arceus? Like the Pokemon?”

He glances at me, a small smile falling across his lips, “Yeah, sorry it slipped-”

“No, you’re okay, I just wanted to make sure that was what you said. I’m behind on the franchise so it took a minute to register.”

“Franchise?”

I give him a lopsided smile, “Yeah, Pokemon. It’s a franchise, by Game Freak. They have card games, movies, t.v. shows, and lots of other stuff. Did- did you not know?”

He blinks, mouth gaping as if he was trying to find the right words. “No, I know. I just never thought about it like that?” It comes out more as a question, before he changes the subject, “Where do I turn, love?”

When the date ended, Lee stated that he was going to take me on two more dates. “Now, why two you may ask-”

“You already know I am going to ask why specifically two-”

“It’s just to see if what we are feeling is more towards the relationship side, or still just the friendship side. Fair?”

“Fair,” I giggle as I unbuckle. When I reach for the door I hear him open his. He walks me to the door, and that little bit of awkwardness settles in. But, it’s a good kind of awkward, new kind of awkward. “So, what are we gonna do?”

“Like tomorrow?”

“Well I have work til seven…”

“I’ll grab movies and can be over after you get out?”

The two of us shift slightly on the front porch, and I was surprised my family hadn’t come to see what we were doing. But it seemed we had the same thing in mind.

“Lee-”

“Can I-?” We spoke at once, making us laugh slightly at the awkwardness of it.

“Go ahead,” I giggle, taking a small step toward him, only now noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

“Right, uh, can, could I possibly kiss you?” He shuffles his foot against the ground, “I mean you, we don’t have to, but-”

“Weren’t you the one who told me not to back track before letting the other person answer?” I giggle, now letting him see that I had closed most of the space between us.

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah, I guess I did.” His eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips before his hand cups my cheek and leans in, my hands falling to rest against his chest. The kiss is soft, and it may have taken a bit for everything to get comfortable, but the blush on our faces was enough to make us both giggle.

Let’s just say, those two weeks were filled with more than just those two dates. Leon ended up meeting my closest friends, and spending a lot of time with me when I wasn’t at work. We even spent some time with his aunt and uncle’s house on days we wanted to get away from everyone else, but those were limited.

“I know you told me about him,” Ginny whispers as the two of us walk up from her boyfriend’s family boat to grab our towels so we could go swimming. “But I didn’t realize how close you two were.” She’s teasing, of course, but it makes you smile back.

“I think I was just too blind to realize that he was right in front of me, but it is still early.”

“I think you look happier than ever before, but I think you have also matured. I really hope this works out for you. He really clicks with you, (Y/N).”

“I hope so too.”

~

Leon is an amazing boyfriend, but there are some things that are just off. Some of the things are easily debunked since he lives in a different country, but some of the things are just weird. Like on our lazy-day study dates, Leon would describe things that weren’t something I had ever heard of.

“Lee, what should I draw?” I ask as he slides in behind me on the floor, replaying the movie he put on after he finished his homework.

“Hmm,” he takes a sip of his drink before offering it to me. “A wooloo? Wooloos are cute.”

I twist in my seat to raise an eyebrow at him, “What’s a wooloo?”

“Its, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “like you have sheep here, and we have wooloos-”

“So it’s a sheep?”

“But better.”

“How is it better?” I laugh, taking a sip of his tea which causes me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

“It just is, it’s so fluffy.” He laughs, taking back his tea and trying to reposition me so that I am pressed against his chest. “I’ll describe it, and then you try and draw it and we will see if it looks the same.”

This was one of the easier things to explain, the drawing challenges he gave me on lazy days. However, when it came to other things, that raised some concerns. Like when his boss continued to call when Leon obviously had given him his schedule.

Leon let out an annoyed groan as his phone lit up next to him while we were cuddled up on the couch at my house. The name that came up was 'Rose.’ “Sorry, love, let me get this.” He hums as he untangles himself from me to walk out of the room. “Chairman, how are you?”

When Lee came back, he looks fatigued and annoyed. “You alright, Lee?”

“Yeah, just my boss. You know how he is.” Lee mutters, sitting to get settled when his phone buzzes again. He groans again before he sighs softly at who texted him. He uses one hand to swipe out a text before settling back next to me, tugging me into his side. “Raihan just texted because he knows Rose called me, when he knows to call on the weekends if he needs something.”

“Rose?”

“My boss, he can be a bit annoying. But I have been gone most of the year when usually I’m there. He is just going to be more on my case until I graduate.” Lee glances at me, and notices the concern crossing my features, making him smile and cup my cheek. “Nothing to worry about, love. I’ll call him before my class tomorrow and settle the stuff he wants me to do.”

However, Lee got pulled away earlier that evening by his boss’s assistant. He apologized a dozen times, but after not ever seeing this before I could only assume this was what I had been missing the past two years. One of the final things that was weird was how his extended family thought of his home country.

“How come Galar isn’t on the map?” I ask, standing in his aunt and uncle’s house, looking up at their world map mural while Leon grabs us a drink.

Before Lee can explain, his uncle interrupts. “Because the damn place isn’t seen as a real place. It’s a myth to the rest of the damn world.”

“Jefferson!” His aunt calls, annoyance evident in her voice.

“What! It shouldn’t exist!” He growls as he walks into the kitchen, the argument already starting.

I turn my head and look over at Lee, his eyes downcasted to the floor. I move, taking the glasses from his hands before slowly wrapping my arms about his waist. “Will you tell me about your hometown? You always tell me you’ll tell me about the place you grew up, but we never get the chance to.”

I hear him sigh, eyes lifting to look at my face. He gives me a soft smile squeezing me in a hug before turning me in his arms so that my back is pressed to his front, directly in front of the mural.

“Galar is right about here,” his finger brushes against the paint. “And Postwick, which is a small village outside of Wedgehurst. It’s filled with fields and small houses that are covered in vines and flowers…”

Despite all the weird things that have occurred, Leon is one hell of a great guy. My family adores him, makes comments all the time that they hope he sticks around, and after dating him for two years, he has still done just that. But, now Leon is graduating in a few weeks, and we don’t know exactly where our relationship will go. What we do know is that we would like it to be for the long-run, but only time will tell.

“I have a question for you,” Lee’s voice carries across my family’s office where the two of us were settled to do homework.

“Shoot,” I mutter, typing in another sentence to the paper that was due at the end of the week.

“You always ask about Galar, and my family-”

“Only because you know basically everything about me, and the stuff I know about you is your hometown, your mom, and your little brother Hop.” I hum, twirling in my chair to face him.

Leon is smiling at me, sitting on the couch diagonal from me. He shakes his head and chuckles. “Why don’t you come for the summer.”

I blink at him before standing and sitting next to him. “Come to Galar? Lee, I have one more summer I can work until my last two semesters. You know that-”

“You have clinicals all next summer, I know.” He cups my cheek, smiling softly. “That’s why you would work while you were there. All I have to do is talk to my boss and he could figure something out for you.”

“I don’t have a passport.”

“Then I guess you will have to get a passport! C'mon, (Y/N), come home with me. Let me show you where I grew up.”

I make a face in fake thought before giggling. “Guess I better get a passport.”

Lee let out a whoop before pulling me to stand and spinning us in a circle.

Maybe all the weirdness would end with that one trip, a trip that never happened.

————————————————- 

A/N: Hey hey everyone! I am really excited for you all to see where this story goes! Let me know if you wanna be tagged so you know when the next chapter comes out! ~CG

Masterlist

#cg writes #champion leon #champion leon x fem!reader #champion leon fluff #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #dandeleon #dande #pokemon leon #pokemon shield leon

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Jigsaw // Red: Part One

Valhalla 

A/N: Picking up right where we left off with Blue (which you can find on the Billy Russo page of my masterlist). Billy’s on the run and needs to find a place to hide out while he comes up with a plan. 

Warnings: character death

Word Count: 3,730

.

Left. He hit the sidewalk and immediately turned, shifting himself sideways to disappear down the alley. Go, go, go. Legs turning over with perfect form, he ran between the buildings, a blur of red brick on one side, pale gray concrete on the other. The sound of his breathing drowned out everything but the voice in his head telling him where to turn. Right. Coming through to the next street, he spun, socked feet splashing through a puddle of condensation from the A.C. unit in the window above. Alley, now. A trash bag lay across the opening of the narrow space. Jump it. Right leg extended, he vaulted over the garbage heap, springing off his coiled left calf and landing in stride, continuing to run without missing a beat. An aluminum chain link fence greeted him at the end of the alley, and he quickly calculated the necessary motion to climb it. Wait! Back pressed against the grime covered wall, he held his breath in the shadows as two police cruisers flew by, sirens wailing. He counted to ten, waiting to see if any more were in pursuit. He could hear more sirens joining in from other parts of the city, but for now the way was clear. Go, up and over. Securing the folder inside his zipped sweatshirt, he jumped and gripped the fence with both hands, fingers curling through the wire diamonds. He pulled himself up with ease, throwing one leg and then the other over the top and landing hard on the soles of his feet.  

Keep fuckin’ going. Listening to the commanding voice in his head, Billy immediately took off running again. His lungs were on fire and he had a cramp in his gut but just like in an active warzone, he knew that he couldn’t rest until he’d reached the checkpoint. Not that he had one in mind when he broke free, but as he scaled the fence he realized that his legs were taking him to a specific location- an abandoned warehouse in Red Hook. Of course. He coughed, wheezing slightly as he pushed himself to follow his feet as fast as he could. Of course that’s where I’m goin’. He reverted back to auto pilot, following the commands to make turns and slip through alleys, allowing his thoughts to traverse the labyrinth in his brain like a mouse in a maze, desperate for the cheese. With a wince and a jerk of his head, a memory tumbled to the frontlines as he got closer to his destination.   

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  .. 

‘S’just an idea I had,” Billy shrugged and shoved his burger haphazardly into his mouth, filling it with food so he’d have an excuse not to elaborate too much. You watched him from across the retro red table, tapping your thumbnail against the grooved aluminum edge.

  “It’s a great idea, Billy,” you’d said encouragingly, French fry suspended over your plate, a dollop of ketchup plopping off the end of it.

 He chewed around a small smile, keeping his eyes on you as he reached for the pebbled plastic soda glass in front of him. He swallowed the bite he’d taken and chased it down with a few loud slurps of his drink before setting what was left of his lunch back on his plate. “I dunno about great,” he said with a minute shift of his shoulders. “Still got a lot of work to do. Gonna need investors and warehouse space and-“

You stopped tapping at the aluminum trim and stretched your hand across the small two top booth to grip his, giving a light squeeze. “Yeah,” you said with a nod. “Yeah, you got a lot of work to do. But the idea is a good one, and a lot of good people will benefit from it.”

She gets it. He cleared his throat and sniffed, nose wrinkling up. “Yeah, I mean… just thinkin’ about guys like me’n Frankie. Guys that gave decades of their lives to the military. Guys that need to have somethin’ to fall back on when they get home… what kinda jobs are gonna hire 38 year olds with no experience, ya know?” He was talking mainly about Frank, but he wasn’t far behind his friend in terms of age or the things he was willing to risk as that number went up.“Give ‘em a chance to use the skills they have instead’a tryin’ to scramble to fit in to some 9-5…” Let ‘em be with guys who understand…

 “So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?” You’d pushed your plate aside to give him your full attention, one hand still linked with his over the scarlet and silver boomerang patterned laminate.

He’d hesitated to tell you about his idea of starting his own private security company, because saying it out loud meant that it was real. Telling you about it was essentially sealing a promise to himself...and to you, that he’d make it work, and he wasn’t sure that he could. But the way that you asked those questions, with nothing but clarity and belief in your tone, the way your hand never left his, it made him feel like maybe it wasn’t so crazy. Maybe I can. “Well, I gotta figure out how much I need to get started. Equipment, endorsements, facilities,” He ticked those off on the fingers of his free hand before his tongue came out to lick his lips.  “I...actually, I looked into this one warehouse in Brooklyn already. Not that I’m expectin’ it to still be available when I’m ready to pull the trigger but… I wanted to look into the numbers.”

“Will you show it to me?” The excitement on your face pulled his cheeks up slowly, almost making him laugh.

“What?” He shook his head looking down at your hands. “Nah, you don’t wanna,” he looked back up to find that you hadn’t so much as blinked. “I only got two days left, you wanna waste one of ‘em in a dirty old building?” But even as he tried to talk you out of it, Billy realized that he did want to take you there.

The server came over then, coffee pot in one hand and stress written all over her tired face despite the fact that there were only three other occupied tables in the joint. “Get you two anything else?” The way she asked the question dictated what she hoped the answer would be.

Without missing a beat you turned to respond to the woman. “Nope, we’ll take the-” she dropped the puffy black check presenter on the table where it clapped together with a soft thud. “-check, thanks!” You pulled your hand from Billy’s and let him inspect the bill before he dug his wallet out, tucking some cash behind the curled thermal paper and then placing it on top of the dented silver napkin holder.

When he had returned his wallet to the back pocket of his dark jeans, you tilted your head and cocked one eyebrow. “What?” He asked, to which you’d only changed the angle of your chin. “Really?” Your smirk answered and he felt a swelling in his chest at your stubborn faith in him. “You’re serious.” That one wasn’t a question.

 You stood from the booth and wrapped your scarf around your neck before slipping your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. Billy did the same, following your lead. When you’d both donned your outerwear, you pulled your hair up and over the thick cable knit loops of your neck covering and bounced up on the balls of your feet to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I am, Russo.” Motioning toward the door and lacing your fingers with his, you licked your candy apple lips. “Lead the way, Billy.” 

 ..  .. ..  .. .. ..

His breathing picked up, uneven and ragged, fingers shaking as they clutched the rusty gate, swinging it open. The chase was over and his body reacted accordingly, heightened senses returning to normal levels, the adrenaline slowly draining from his blood. The greedy gulps of air he was taking would make him sick. He knew that, but there was nothing he could do. His survival instincts got him as far as they needed to before vanishing into the abyss, leaving him alone. Closing the gate behind him, Billy staggered through the fenced in loading dock of the abandoned warehouse, shoeless feet tripping on the cracks in the pavement where stubborn weeds were pushing through the concrete. Broken glass littered the ground as he got closer to the building, an entire pane having fallen from the third story, nothing but a few jagged spears remaining in the window frame.

The crunching, crashing sound of glass shattering echoed in his ears, forcing a wince and a pitiful hissing sound that was a mixture of pain and fear. Tearing his eyes from the fragments, he gripped the top of his head and shook it hard, jogging the sound and the visions that came with it from his mind. The blare of a bus horn from a few blocks away brought him back to the moment. Chest heaving, Billy gripped the folder that he’d tucked under his sweatshirt, confirming for the tenth time since his escape that he hadn’t lost it. What little relief was left for him trickled through his body as he finally reached the door and found it unlocked.

Tugging the handle he pulled it open, flakes of rust falling from the hinges as they creaked and screeched their disuse. The bottom of the door dragged over the concrete, scraping a crescent shape into the ground. He stumbled inside and yanked the door shut behind him, giving three hard pulls to close the stubborn portal. He kept moving, using the sunlight that filtered in through the thick, clouded windows to seek out the staircase on the near side of the vast and empty space. It had been over a year since he’d last been there, but he was confident that the steps hadn’t decayed past the point of use. Testing his weight on the bottom few he saw that he was right. He gripped the oxidized rails, the peeling metal rough against his palms as he climbed to the second floor, footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.

This wasn’t Anvil’s home, but it might have been, almost was. There was more graffiti than there was the last time he’d set foot inside, depleted spray paint cans littering the ground and coming into view as he took the last few steps. The word Valhalla was scrawled across the bricks in the loft, accented with flames and shadows, a few broken, lumpy chairs and mattresses spread beneath the mural. The room had clearly been used as some kind of illegal den for drugs or other illicit activity, and simply hadn’t been cleaned out when the inhabitants had been dispatched. A rat scurried out from under one of the dilapidated pieces of furniture and found refuge inside of a potato chip bag in the corner. Billy stood before the painted wall. Valhalla. What a crock of shit. He recalled the way that he and his brothers in arms had often compared themselves to the Vikings, to the Gods of War, talking about valor and the glory that was waiting for them back home. There’s no glory left, no good death for me. He tore his eyes from the lettering and sank down onto one of the badly torn couches, a broken sound coming from his throat as he pulled the folder from where it was tucked beneath the zipper of his sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ripped cushion beside him, his head falling to hang between his hands.

Outside, the clouds shifted in the sky letting hazy afternoon light find its way through the damaged windows. It created a spotlight effect that drew his gaze to a hastily sprayed “X” on the floor in the center of the room, the splotchy ruby red paint scuffed from where careless boot soles had stepped over it. His mouth fell open, an incredulous breath bursting forth as he dragged his palms over the close cropped hair on top of his head, fingers curling around the helix of his ears and memory hurtling back to the last time that he’d been in that building.

..  .. ..  .. .. .. 

You reached the door before he did, both hands gripping the chunky steel door handle, eagerly trying to tug it open but struggling to do so. He watched your shoulders hunch up as you tried to pull harder before you turned to look back at him. The excitement on your face would have been more suited to opening the door to a luxury suite in a gilded mansion than a rundown old paint factory with more broken panes of glass on the floor than existed in the window frames, but he knew it was there and it was real. Because she loves me. That simple, overwhelming thought was the hardest thing he’d ever wrapped his head around. He shook his head as his lips parted, one side quirking upwards involuntarily. “Easy there killer, lemme do that.” Billy reached passed you and grabbed the handle, a flush of warmth flooding his veins as you leaned back into his chest, your fingers falling away from the door as he gave a hard pull to pry it open, the bottom scraping the ground. “Still can’t believe this is what you wanna-“

  You turned quickly and pressed two fingers, skin chilled from the early spring air, against his lips to silence him. “Believe it. This is where I wanna be. Nowhere else. Now,” You winked at him and turned back towards the darkened entry that he’d just wrenched opened. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Russo, but you were going to take me on the tour of your new facility, were you not?” You started to take a step through the door when his arms quickly circled around your waist, stopping you. They flexed, tightening his hold and forcing a bubbly laugh to spill from your soul.

  “Yeah,” he brought his lips to your ear, pressing them to the flesh behind it. “Right this way, ma’am.” He unwound his arms and took your hand, carefully leading you into the building. The heavy door swung shut with a thud and you jumped slightly. “I got ya,” he said, squeezing your hand as the metallic sound of the door echoed throughout the cavernous space. You squeezed back and threw a smile in his direction.  

  Late afternoon light was streaming in through the remaining glass panels, showing off an iron staircase that lead to a lofted office area, and behind it an enormous room with concrete flooring. “So down here we’d build this out for training purposes,” he motioned to the space with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Put up walls, build rooms for guys to run tactical drills in. S’enough square footage to run two teams through drills at once.” He cleared his throat and nodded. “I uh, I looked into that, too.”

  He’d looked into more than he let on at the diner, already researching contractors that might be willing to work with a US Marine vet when it came to budget. He watched you take in the room, blinking slowly in the dim light, breathing quietly in the musty air. “It’s perfect, Billy.”

  He shrugged but allowed his cheek to twitch up towards his eye in a one sided grin. “It’s not. But it doesn’t haveta be. Just has to be big.”

  You dislodged your hand from his to explore the space some more, wandering between the support poles that ran from cracked floor to vaulted ceiling. Swinging around one of them, your hair fell like a curtain over your face and you pushed it back. “Well it’s definitely big. So check that off the list.” You came back towards him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “What else?”

  “Well,” his eyes darted to the staircase, yours following until they came back to meet. “Up there is where the offices would be.” Tongue flicking out to lick his lips and teeth flashing behind them, he said, “Where my office would be.”

  Your grin turned mischievous. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “Just up those stairs?” Another nod. “Well this I gotta see,” you said, taking off in the direction of the loft.

  “Hang on, wait,” he shot his arm out, catching you by the wrist and wrapping his fingers around it. “Lemme… I dunno if the stairs are…” you let him go ahead of you, testing his weight on the rickety staircase. Satisfied with their structural integrity, he looked back at you. “Okay, c’mon up.” He gave you his hand again and you took it, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

  The top floor boasted an exposed brick wall to the right and a huge half circle window high up near the ceiling to the left, long narrow windows running down beneath it. A series of smaller offices overlooking the first floor could be seen down a short hall. A few stray papers and paint cans were strewn about, and a pigeon cooed as it fluttered from rafter to rafter over your heads. You spun in a slow 360 degrees, directly in the center of the beam of light filtering in through the lead glass semi-circle. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is perfect. “So what do you think?”

  “I think your desk should go right over there,” you pointed out a spot in the middle of the large brick wall. “You close this off,” you moved your arms to indicate the area around where his phantom desk stood. “Your secretary can sit-“ you looked over your shoulder at him, devilish grin climbing your lips to change the color of your eyes to a darker shade. “She’s not gonna like me, I can tell. But she can sit over there,” again you moved your arms to indicate where walls would be. “Outside your office. More privacy that way.” You’d come back to stand in front of him, slipping your arms beneath his and pressing yourself tightly against him.

  Billy looked down through his lashes at you as you reached up to fix a stray lock of his hair that had fallen in front of his eye, tucking it back in order before trailing your fingertips down the stubble on his face. “S’not what I-“

  “I know.” You gripped the back of his neck and flexed your fingers. “I know that’s not what you were asking. You wanna know what I think, Billy?”

  His hands came up to either side of your face then, eyes searching yours. “Yours is the only opinion that matters,” he said. “So yeah, I wanna know what you think.”

  You looked around the space again, hand dropping from behind him as his fell away from your cheeks. Finding what you were looking for, you smiled and took a few steps into the corner, bending down to pick up an aluminum can with a bright red plastic top. You shook it like a maraca, the liquid inside sloshing around to tell you that it wasn’t empty. Popping the top off, you walked over towards the area you’d cordoned off for his office, finger resting atop the depressor.

  “What are you…” his sentence fell apart as you stooped down and sprayed a big “x” on the ground, dropping the can and letting it clatter by your feet.

  “There,” you said, wiping your hands together and then brushing them off on your jeans. “X marks the spot, Billy. That’s what I think. I think now you have two things to come home to, lieutenant.”

  He shook his head and moved closer to you. “That’s not even… ‘course I’m coming home to you, that’s not-”

  “Yeah, you better.” You stood on the wet X, not caring about getting paint on your shoes. “But this? This place, this goal? I think there’s no way in Hell you don’t make this happen, Billy.”

  He reached for you then, pulling you off the X and into his body, wrapping you up as tightly as he could. “X marks the spot,” he said, lips covering yours, glad that this was how you’d ended up spending the rest of the day.

  ..  .. ..  .. .. ..  ..

  He stooped down to run his fingers over what was left of the red mark, the patterns from the soles of your shoes faintly visible in the splotchy paint. She should be here. She should be here and she’s not. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled fat and heavy onto the floor as rage roiled in his blood. Frank did this. Frank and… and Madani. He stood then, shuffling back over to the folder in the couch. There’s gotta be… He knew needed to get their attention. Gotta be some way to flush ‘em out, to… 

He flipped through the file, the photos of the two of you from the park socking him hard. Military records, session notes, accomplishments, crimes, details from every aspect of his life typed out neatly in 12 point double spaced font. One name caught his eye as he turned the pages, one name that he’d only ever shared with three people in his adult life: Frank, Madani, and you. 

“So what do you have to do then, Billy? How do you make this happen?”

  Your voice filled his ears then, and he knew what he had to do to make Frank take notice.  

  Thoroughly exhausted from the events of the day, from the pieces he’d put into place and the staggering realizations he’d come to, Billy took the photo from the folder and fell into the broken couch. Outside, the sun had started setting, darkness slowly swallowing the world and ending the day. They took her from me. Slow, shaky breaths puffed through his nostrils as he crossed his arms over his chest, aching to hold you one more time. They took her from me and they’re gonna pay. 

  Though it felt like his anguish would keep him from sleep, his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off, holding your picture and repeating an address over and over, like counting sheep; an address he couldn’t believe he remembered after all these years. 

 They’re all gonna pay.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @lexxierave @songforhema @thesumofmychoices @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @stories-you-wont-hear @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime @luminex3 @ificouldhelpyouforget @obscurilicious @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!  

#jigsaw #jigsaw // red #valhalla #billy russo #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #the punisher #the punisher au #frank castle #dinah madani #they're all gonna pay

[iwannafuckyexiu]

A TEASE A DAY BRINGS YOU CLOSER TO YOUR DEATH  005

FACEPALM-KUN AND THE ABANDONED RAMEN between the yandere, sunshine boy, tsundere, shy boy, kuudere, which one would you choose?

Y/N stretches his arms, yawning as he makes his way towards the school gate in a drowsy approach. He ended up getting home by eleven thirty at night and stowed into the arms of Morpheus at two in the morning, scrubbing off the filth on his body before he went to sleep - which took the most time, even more than the time used to scroll through his phone.

The mob before the school invades Y/N's sight as he walks along the sidewalks towards the gate. "Damn what's with that crowd, is like a celebrity coming to our school or something?" he mumbles, nearing the horde, he recognises them as reporters from all the biggest news platforms in Japan, "oh wait, our school is filled with celebrities."

Spotting a familiar person whilst he attempts to wedge his way towards the entrance, he taps the guy's shoulder, "Hey, blonde guy it's you again."

"Heyyy! "

"What?!" the blonde guy yells through the rowdy flock of reporters, head yanking in Y/N's direction, his brows crumpled up and his eyelids tapered as he tries not to get squeezed to the side by the others.

"You know what's going on?" Y/N squints his eyelids as he gestures towards the mass of people in front of the school gate with his chin.

"I don't know, look yourself!"

The blonde guy tweaks his head back and thrust himself through the reporters with brute force, Y/N closely tracking behind his back, hand suspended mid-air throughout the entire fatiguing process of mashing into people and making an attempt to enter the school grounds without letting any reporters in.

"Wow, intense exercise early in the morning," Y/N comments as he walks along the corridor to his class with the blonde guy beside him, not minding that his uniform is wholly crinkled up and hair coiled with strands poking out, an untroubled grin stretches his cheeks.

"Oh, here's my stop, I'll see you later!" they pass by the class 1a door and Y/N bids his farewell to the blonde guy with a blow kiss - in which the latter clicks his tongue then turns his head away to (his scarlet neck rats him out).

Katsuki sits in his seat, his head lowered whilst he passes time with his phone in his palms on his table blatantly when a book is flung into his vision. He curls his hand into a fist and bashes the table, clacking his tongue in crossness.

"Who the fu-"

"Yep!" a radiant voice inserts before he can finish his sentence, even without looking up, Katsuki can pretty much guess who it is from the tonality and 'harmonious' book on the table.

"Midnight's lookin' hot on the cover there, don't ya think? " Y/N says as he bends over to flash a teasing smirk at Katsuki, crooking his head to the side, a brow raised at him.

Katsuki 'hmph'ed at the remark, ruby eyes never veering to look at Y/N, mumbling so tacitly that Y/N can barely hear it, "Fucking pervert." That's something new from the usual 'asshole' and 'fucker', Katsuki's updating his vocabulary too, damn.

To his unfriendly words, Y/N only lets out a faint chuckle, he sparingly flicks the side of Katsuki's head, "I heard that." Katsuki doesn't yell or shout at him for the action but he scowls and responds Y/N with a middle finger - which the latter gives a classic wink to.

"Aye Izuku," he greets as he strides towards his next target he is going to scourge. Y/N ruffles through Izuku's fluffy broccoli curls with one hand and the other chucks a long cardboard tube at the boy. "Here's an All Might poster since I couldn't bring the ice cream," he answers when he sees Izuku's puzzled cast on his features.

"Thanks!" Izuku says, dipping his head to convey himself, the corners of his eyes curving into arcs as wells as his pinkish lips.

"Also," Y/N begins while he tows a seat from the currently empty desk beside, straddling the chair with his arms tending on the top rail, "did you speak to that hedgehog there after school or something yesterday?"

"...how did you know?" Izuku first nods his head then twists his head and questions Y/N, green pupils peering agape at him.

"Saw it when I was running to work."

"Ah ... yeah, he said he's going to be number one from now on."

"Ahahahah, sounds like him," Y/N quenches a howl as he peeps at Katsuki from the side, visualising him shouting at Izuku like a tsundere schoolgirl: 'I-I-I'm going to be number one from now on, don't you bastard underestimate me!!'. The imagination of Katsuki doing that is too wicked, too wicked - Y/N heaves a sigh to himself at the overly whimsical thought.

"Also-oh, Aizawa's here I'm gonna go back."

As Y/N's words died down, he inches his way to his seat at the back of the room to prevent that yellow condom from calling him out for not being in his seat again, he's not one for attention you know.

"Good work on yesterday's combat training, I saw the video and results," Aizawa heaps slight praise to his students, his hand setting down his stack of papers on the desk at the front. "Bakugou, you're talented so don't act like a kid," his sagging eyes slothfully roves to Katsuki as he speaks of him briefly, gaze full of disdain.

"I know," Katsuki shifts his gaze to his left whilst he says with an overt frown, leaving the rest of the class dumbfounded at his unexpectedly composed temper.

"Hey slap me."

"Ow-oh my god, it's real."

"And Midoriya," Izuku instantly straightens up and tucks his arms atop his lap at the mention of his name from Aizawa, "you settled it by breaking your arm again, huh? You can't keep making the excuse that you can't control your quirk. I don't like saying the same thing over and over again. But as long as you fix that issue, you'll have a lot of things you'll be able to do."

"Feel a sense of urgency, Midoriya," Aizawa winds up his remarks on Izuku, in which the boy replies him with a firm 'hai! ', gushing with a youth's determination.

"Now let's get down to homeroom business, I'm sorry I didn't warn you beforehand but today I'll have you ..." letting his voice dwindle off, Aizawa has everyone put their heart in their mouths.

"Is he gonna say that he's resigning?"

"...Decide on a class representative."

Everyone sets about hoisting their arm up and screeching for Aizawa to pick them, almost sounding like a certain 101's theme song: "pick me! ". To all the ruckus going on in the classroom, Y/N just huddles his head between his weaved arms on the desk and sinks into sleep's deadly arms.

"Silence!"

The class quietens down at once straight after Iida's shout, and all eyes are bonded to his now-standing figure. Iida clinches an arm high up in the air but interposes to his classmates, "This is not something that just anybody could do! This is a job that requires leadership skills! Everyone's trust in you is required in order to be a good leader ... so we should vote! "

"Why did you suggest that?"

"We even don't know each other very well yet, how are we supposed to trust?" ribbit ribbit queries, stoking up the other students' pertinent comments.

"Everybody's gonna vote for themselves anyway."

"That's exactly why the person with most votes should become class president," Iida prods up his glasses with his fingers, the lens glistening in the artificial light, he turns to Aizawa (who's nearly asleep), "don't you agree, sensei?"

"Tsk whatever, just choose one before class ends," Aizawa says moodily and zips his yellow sleeping bag up to return to his slumber, making sure it's soundproof.

So everyone agrees to use the method Iida suggested. One after another, they walk to the front to vote for the most suitable person to be class president, including Y/N who awoken when Iida silenced the class. And too waspish from his interrupted nap, he scratches his mark beside the first name he sees on the blackboard and walks back to his seat as if a zombie.

Bypassing to when they reveal the final results of the mini-referendum, Izuku got three votes, sealing his class representative position, and Yaoyorozu got two votes, making her vice president.

"Deku? Who voted for him?!"

And Katsuki is back to his regular self, brimming with rage. The class now think that maybe a calm Katsuki isn't that bad, they want that him back.

、、、

"That took too fucking long!" Y/N grumbles to the mustard and ketchup duo as he cautiously rambles towards the table they're on, balancing a warm (and heavy, Y/N doesn't forget to mention) bowl of noodles on his tray.

"You could've chosen something else to eat you know ramen's one of the most popular choices between students," Denki pokes fun at him with a suppressed smile by his lips, then giggling at the boy's strange posture while he settles the tray onto the table.

"I was just craving it too much, after rewatching Naruto and Shippuden over last night."

"Ai ..." Y/N emits a lasting and theatrical sigh, he sways his head at Denki. "You won't get it, bro," he says perplexingly, acting profound and inscrutable to the two.

"But I get you," the ketchup of the duo who has been silent for the past conversation finally speaks, giving the male opposite him a 'yes I get you bro' expression which Y/N responds with his hand pounding on his chest lightly.

Y/N lifts his chopsticks up, dredging up a clump of noodles from the soup, ready to eat it all up when a resonant toll sets off within the canteen.

"Just as I was gonna take a sip," he snarls and tosses his chopsticks in the bowl, pressing his lips together as he gets up from his seat, "Shitting hell, in the single moment I just blank out a bit they all run out."

Y/N ventures out the canteen and around the hallways, he attempts to pinpoint where exactly the others are but he only ends up astray from his destination. And on the fourth time of laying his eyes on the same wall after roaming around, again and again, his mentality snaps.

"AHHHH, DENKI YOU FORGOT TO BRING ME ALONG!" Y/N howls in the hallway to his heart's content, off-track in his breakdown, not noticing the presence nearby, "first I don't get to eat my ramen, then I get lost." He leans against a wall and slouches down to perch himself on the ground slowly, the lesions from the day before twinging as his skin smears against the solid surface.

"What fucking sorcery is this?!"

Finally quelling down, Y/N turns his head to skim his surroundings when a dim figure by a wall grasps his eyes, he shrinks his eyelids at the direction, "Hold on, is that a person there?"

"H-"

"You better shut your fucking mouth up or I'll disintegrate you," before he even speaks the silhouette lashes out at him and shows himself from the shadows.

His voice is husky, coarse and guttural, but tone simmering through into Y/N soul with spite and malice. Giving a hasten glimpse at his appearance - slender yet fit figurine, unkempt but appealing ultramarine locks - Y/N supposes the face behind those slightly greyed but dainty and slim fingers is not bad too.

"Okay, okay," Y/N says in a reposeful manner, taciturnly distancing himself from the clearly perilous man just close by, his features malformed into a grovelling cast.

"Tsk tsk tsk, looks good but seems too yandere," Y/N mutters in a low tone, darting a sidelong glance at facepalm-kun, his tongue pricking out to moisten his chapped lips.

"What?"

"Nothing." Y/N works towards a canon ball shape, burrowing his head further into his knees to minimise his existence to the brink.

The man hums shortly then reaches his hand towards Y/N direction, he intimidates him, "Don't tell anyone about me, or else ..." His single veined eye pops in Y/N direction menacingly, sending the latter's hair and goosebumps raising in cold blood.

Even when Y/N sets back to his class, he can still recollect the blood-curdling aura the man dispersed from a single stare. Worn out from the taut tension with the man before, Y/N drapes himself across his desk as he gapes at one place blankly until Denki calls him.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

"Where did you go just now?" Denki asks, eyes enlarged at Y/N's figure without the slightest cut since he didn't find him beside him during the drill, which gave him a great shock.

"Oh, uh ... the bathroom you know, I had to pee real quick," tilting his head to the side to act above suspicion, he gives Denki an answer full of faults.

But Denki doesn't uncover him, he plaits his fingers through Y/N's hair, tousling his curls, he says to him with fondness. "You're lucky it's just a fraud or you might just get in trouble with the villains."

Hahhahhahahhahaahhahaa.

He did.

"But it's a fraud this time, so I'm fine!" Y/N draws a viscid grin to show, he lifts his brows at Denki and provokes, "see, you can pinch me to test!" Denki hoists a hand up and harshly nips at Y/N's waist, muting his laugh as he sees the boy's twisted expression from the force of it.

"Ow ow ow! Not that hard!" yelling at him whilst also smacking his hand away repeatedly, Y/N gnaws on his bottom lip as the mark throbs for a few seconds, his E/C irises blazing holes through Denki.

"Hm, just as noisy as always," Denki jokes with him, stroking his chin with two fingers in a pondering position.

"Tsk."

"Oh, there comes Aizawa, I gotta go back to my seat."

"Talk to you later, see you~"

"Can I say something?" Izuku steps up all of a sudden, fists clasped by his sides, chin tipped upwards with determination. "I think-I think that Iida is more capable for the position of the class president! He managed to calm the crowd down during the drill, so I think he's the most suited for this job," the poor boy's body quavers slightly as he announces to the class, eyes meandering everywhere.

"I agree with Midoriya."

"Me too, Iida was kinda a good leader just now."

"Like everyone literally just stopped talking when he flew up and said his thing."

"Same."

"Alright, if you're all done with that, then listen to me." Everyone hush down at the din of Aizawa's sluggish voice.

"We'll be participating in a rescue simulation for your basic hero training class," Aizawa starts lazily, ignoring everyone's roars at how excited they are for the event and resumes to speak, "this time you can decide whether you will wear your hero costume or not, because for some people it may be restricting."

"We're going there by bus since the training is going to be outside of the school grounds," he explains whilst he removes his hands that were propping himself up from the desk.

"That's all, now get ready."

TO NOTE

soooo updates are gonna be slower after this chapter because my holiday's ending! yayyyyyyy

but yeah updates will be slower and most likely too slow.

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

I’m Sorry, What? 

Chapter Two, Jughead’s POV 

Read Me On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: Jughead Jones’ massive crush on Northside Princess, Betty Cooper, has him a bit…distracted.

note: hi babes! the response to Betty's POV of I'm Sorry...What? absolutely blew me away and I appreciate every comment, kudos, like, reblog, everything so so much! ❤ 

this is Jughead's POV of the same week. Enjoy!

Monday, 8:57AM

Nothing reminds Jughead that he is in desperate need of a haircut like her sitting almost directly behind him in their AP Geography class.

He’s pinching a point of his worn crown beanie, rolling it lazily between his fingers, as she walks by him, gripping her pastel pink binder to her chest before sliding into her seat.

His hand falls to the back of his neck, needing to ease his nerves as class begins, but he immediately feels his dark wild curls peaking out from beneath his beanie and his cheeks redden.

You need a haircut, boy.

He’d rolled his eyes at his father’s remark last weekend, but now that he can hear her scribbling away in her notebook, he’s hyper aware of how right his father may be.

Maybe she likes long hair? It’s not like it’s that long, his hand drops and he takes up tapping his pen lightly against his notebook as his mind wanders, no, she’s definitely not into long hair, that’s why she’s always with that Andrews guy.

He attempts to tune into the mountainous landscapes their teacher is droning on about, his fingers absentmindedly raising back to the crown point on his beanie.

But maybe she could be into long hair? A small smile plays on his face as he thinks about the far-fetched possibility of her running her fingers through his hair, playfully tugging on the curl at the base of his neck as they kiss, yanking a bit harder when things get a bit more heated...

“Jughead? Hello, I need a pen? Jughead?” Ethel is whispering to him, wiggling her fingers near his face to grasp his attention.

“Shit, sorry! What?”

Tuesday, 2:57PM

“I expect nothing less than perfection from the squad,” Cheryl is saying as her, Toni, and Jughead head out to the parking lot, “I can’t help that you’re the only person who meets my standards.”

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, their conversation fading as he glances around the parking lot. His motorcycle remains untouched in its usual spot and he’s about to tell them he’ll see them tomorrow when her name catches his attention.

“...Betty has really been improving and I think you just need to ease up on her a bit, babe,” Toni is saying, squeezing Cheryl’s hand affectionately.

“Betty’s a cheerleader?”

They stop in the middle of the parking lot as Cheryl arches an eyebrow in his direction and Toni smiles at him, curiosity coloring her gaze.

“She’s basically a cheerleader trainee, but yes, she’s a River Vixen-”

“Why do you ask? I didn’t know you knew Betty Cooper,” Toni interrupts her girlfriend and immediately Jughead wishes he had simply said his goodbyes and headed home. His cheeks are pink as he glances wearily between them and shrugs, adjusting his jacket like metaphorical shield.

“Yeah, she’s in my geography class or something,” he quickly says, wondering where the hell Pea is when he needs him as he rubs the back of his neck, “anyone else I know on the squad?”

Nice save.  

“I really don’t have time to relay the roster to you, Jughead,” Cheryl snaps, turning to place a soft kiss on Toni’s temple before smiling sweetly at him, “but I’m sure Toni will fill you in.”

She turns to walk to her car and he tries to avoid Toni’s stare as the flush in his cheeks only deepens.

“Well, I’ll see you later too-”

“Ohmygod,” she breathes, giggling once Cheryl is out of earshot, “you like Betty Cooper!”

He tugs on his beanie, shaking his head as a nervous chuckle escapes him, “uh...no...what?”

Wednesday, 7:42PM

Large pile of hot, freshly salted fries. Cheeseburger, double cheese, with the works. Extra chocolate milkshake with a cherry perfectly perched atop of swirl of whipped cream.

He literally could not be more excited about the meal in front of him, taking a moment to appreciate Pop for all of the good he’s done in this world just by simply existing…and, of course,  bringing this plate of food out.

“I will never understand how you can put away all that food and still be able to fit into any of your clothes,” Jellybean teases, dipping her fry into her vanilla milkshake a few times.

“I was born with a gift, JB, it would be a shame for me not to put it to good use,” he grins in return, taking a huge bite out of the cheeseburger, ketchup dripping onto his chin.

It’s then that he hears her giggle as she slips into the booth in front of him, hugging Veronica Lodge, who is seated next to the window on the bench seat they’ll share. There’s a frosty strawberry shake sitting in front of Betty, having already been ordered by her friends.

Her finger slips into the whipped cream before she steals an apprehensive glance at the other girls, who are currently looking at pictures on Veronica’s phone, and pops her finger into her mouth.

Her lips wrap around it in a perfect “o” as she sucks the whipped cream off and Jughead’s mind is nowhere near Pop’s Diner anymore. He’s back in the darkness of his trailer and her mouth, illuminated by the light of the moon, is wrapped around something a bit larger than her finger.

He groans inwardly, glancing down at the burger still gripped tightly between his fingers dripping ketchup onto his plate, in sheer disbelief at how immediate he had turned into an average teenage Neanderthal.

“Jughead? Hi, it’s your sister, Jellybean. You probably don’t remember me since you seem to have landed on planet Betty Cooper, never to return again,” Jellybean giggles, rolling her eyes at his currently distraught state.

“Sorry, JB!” he shakes his head, grabbing a napkin to wipe the smear of bright red sauce from his chin, “wait, what?”

Thursday, 7:47AM

The aroma of vanilla with a hint of honey is so faint he almost doesn’t notice it.

But then it surrounds him like a warm, comforting blanket on a chilly evening and he can’t help but shift his gaze to where she’s just walked past him.

Sweet Pea is leaning against the locker in front of him, chattering away about an old bike he’d seen strewn carelessly on the side of the road earlier this morning, but Jughead’s focus is elsewhere and his words fall on deaf ears.

She’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, her books pressed against her chest and her ponytail swinging lightly behind her as she giggles at something her friend is saying.

He finds himself wondering what it is that makes her smile so brightly at such an ungodly hour in the morning. Not even the hottest, largest, highest caffeinated cup of coffee could get him to smile this early, that’s for sure.

She glances in his direction, a curious smile now tugging at the corners of her mouth and he quickly brings his focus back to Sweet Pea, attempting to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Jones?” Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow, a playful sigh escaping his lips as he shakes his head, “I seriously don’t know why I bother talking to you before noon, man.”

“Shit, sorry, what?”

Friday, 10:49PM

The last thing Jughead has planned for his weekend is a Riverdale Bulldog after party.

And yet here he is, casually walking into an already-in-full-swing celebration at Thornhill. It’s dark and the music is blaring, making him and his Serpent brothers unnoticeable as they walk towards the kitchen, but he still feels out of place.

Arms wrap around his neck in an overjoyed drunken hug and a small, relieved smile falls on his lips when he realizes it’s Toni.

“I’m so happy you came! Let me get you all drinks!”

She quickly hugs Fangs and Sweet Pea, leading them all into an empty, yet also dark and loud kitchen.

She’s thanking them profusely for supporting her and attending the game and he wants to tell her that of course they support her. No Serpent left behind.

But she has just walked into the kitchen, a red solo cup firmly in her grip, and when her eyes meet his, his breathing shallows.

She walks over to him, resting the cup on the table as she offers him another bright smile.

“Wow, a football game and an after party?” she says, tilting her head as she teases, “you’re almost more Friday Night Lights than me now.”

He looks down, trying to play off the grin on his face before he raises his eyes to meet hers once more. She’s wearing a River Vixen t-shirt and jeans and he really wants to tell her how beautiful she looks.

But his nerves get the best of him and he clears his throat, now noticing that his friends are long gone, leaving him alone with her.

“Want me to get you a drink?” he asks her, offering her a soft smile, “must be a little dehydrated after all of that cheering.”

“I thought I saw you out there watching me,” she tilts her head and smirks playfully, making him roll his eyes as his heart skips a beat.

“You’re hard to miss, Betts.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip before offering a small smile and the smile reflected on her face is so genuine he can almost hear his heart pounding above the music.

She turns, grabbing a napkin and a pen so that she can jot something down. He glances towards the water bottles resting on the counter, uncertain of whether this is where the conversation ends.

But then she’s handing him the napkin and leaning into him a bit more to say, “I’m leaving now, but in case you’d ever like to do something other than notice me.”

She’s gone before he can reply, but her phone number is written on the napkin, and he’s definitely not hiding the grin on his face as he run his fingers through his hair, “wow, what?”

Leave a comment if you’d life, I love and appreciate your thoughts! ❤

#bughead fanfiction #betty cooper x jughead jones #I'm sorry what? #bughead #southside serpent jughead jones

[mariequitecontrarie]

Meet Me in the Courtyard: Part 7

Summary: Belle and Gold realize they’ve been assigned to the same hotel room in New York City. Oh no. What now? ;) The Fic: Belle hosts a monthly movie night in Storybrooke, always leaving the seat next to her empty. Gold loathes movies, yet movie night at the library is the one community event even he can’t seem to resist.  Rating: T A/N: For the February @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Surprise date, stockings and lace, babysitter canceled. I wanted to do the smut this chap, but it didn’t happen. Written for @magnoliatattoo. Love you, girl!

{On AO3} Previous parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Did I miss an appointment?

Had he actually said those words? Perhaps an alien had swooped in and taken temporary possession of his brain. Gold smoothed damp strands of hair over his ears to cover their burning tips. He didn’t want Belle to see him blush, not after the entrance he made.

There had already been more than enough embarrassment for one evening.

After hearing the sound of movement in the room, he swaggered out of the bathroom like some sort of overconfident beast, droplets of water still dotting his body, wearing only a thin bath towel.

All it took was one glimpse of the pale, pinched look on Belle’s face to send him scurrying back to the bathroom to don one of the plush white robes the hotel had provided. The color drained from her cheeks and her eyes dropped to the carpet, her lips pursed into a tight little line.

It was an expression no man should have to see on the face of the woman he’d fallen in love with.

“You’re in New York,” he said softly.

“Librarians conference,” she confirmed, still staring at the floor. “You?”

“Same. But Pawnbrokers Association.”

“Oh.”

Following that brief, stilted conversation, he returned to the bathroom yet again to put his pajamas on beneath the robe.

He eyed himself under the garish flourescent lights of the hotel bathroom and cringed. He looked older and pastier than usual, and the wet strings of hair hanging around his face reminding him of a drowned rat. The idea of facing Belle again made his palms sweat, but there was nothing to be done except go back out there and find a solution to their problem. The last thing he wanted was for Belle to think he was angry with her. Who knew they would both be in New York at the same hotel, each for a work event? It was an outcome no one could have predicted, like the spike in reality television shows, or the popularity of men wearing skin-tight trousers without socks.

Earlier this afternoon at the diner, Belle had murmured something about a suitcase and a trip, but he didn’t have the time or the presence of mind to ask her where she was going, or to volunteer his own plans to attend the Annual Pawnbrokers Conference over the next three days.

He creeped out of the bathroom and peered around the corner.

Belle was seated on the loveseat facing the window, her back ramrod straight as she stared out at Times Square. The lights from the skyscrapers wreathed her curls in an ethereal glow, and though her back was turned, he could feel her twisting her fingers together in her lap. The silence was tense and uncomfortable.

It was hard to believe that hours ago, she had been attacking his hamburger and fries with a voracious appetite, and he had almost kissed the blob of ketchup off her adorable face in front of one hundred pairs of curious eyes.

Even Ms. Lucas had been kind to him in the diner, smiling when he paid his bill and thanking him for coming in. Belle’s reaction to seeing him was another matter entirely. She was fidgety, edgy, and refused to meet his eyes. Anxiety twisted his gut. 

He was nothing much to look at, he knew. He fingered the lapel of his robe and glanced longingly toward his bag of suits hanging in the closet. Imported Italian silk always made him feel more attractive. 

He looked far better in a suit than he did out of one, a truth his father had pounded this truth into him from a young age. “Clothes make the man, Branny,” Malcolm Gold used to say. “Without fine clothes, no one will respect you.”

Gold had inherited his father’s taste for the finer things, but unlike his father, he funded his expensive habits himself.

He tightened the sash on the robe tighter with a grim smile.

Typical of his lousy track record with with relationships. Well, then. He would take his frustrations out on the hotel staff.

With his mouth twisted into a snarl, he dialed the phone and barked orders at the poor unfortunate soul who answered. “Manager. Now.” Someone would be held accountable for this mix-up with the rooms, of that he was certain.

After ten minutes of growling and making threats, he was getting nowhere.

“As I told you before, sir, the system shows Mrs. Gold cancelled her room yesterday,” the manager explained in a bored tone. “Your wife is registered to your room in our system and that’s why we followed standard check-in procedures and gave her a key. I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have another room for your wife.”

“Perhaps the system is wrong,” Gold said, grinding his teeth.

“The system is never wrong, sir.” The manager sounded appalled by the suggestion. “Mrs. Gold’s room was cancelled.”

“You mean Miss French’s room.” Gold’s head was beginning to pound. “Did Miss French cancel the room or did Mrs. Gold?”

“What would please you, sir?”

“None of this pleases me, damn you!” He reached for his cane and squeezed the handle, pretending it was the throat of the halfwit on the other end of the line.

“Profound apologies, sir,” the bored voice replied.

“There are over 1800 rooms in this hotel,” he snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Surely there’s another room available. A suite?”

“No, sir.”

“The honeymoon suite! Yes, Miss French can move her things in there and I’ll…”

“I’m sorry, sir.” The manager cut him off. “We don’t have another room for your wife here. Perhaps we can ease you with some complimentary champagne? A wheel of brie?”

There was that word again—wife. “I don’t want apologies or cheese. Bloody hell, I want results.”

“Yes, sir, but with the number of conferences being hosted here, the hotel is full. We have no other rooms available for Mrs. Gold.”

Gold pinched the bridge of his nose again. He didn’t want to hear another syllable about the room across town or hear them utter the name Mrs. Gold again. He wanted a room across the hall or next door for Miss French, plain and simple.

“There is no Mrs. …” Belle’s head came up sharply, and Gold dropped his voice to a dangerously low tone. “You had better make this stay worth our while, or I’ll see to it that neither the Art Libraries Society nor the Pawnbrokers Association ever do business with this establishment again.”

There was a lengthy pause, the rapid tapping of keys, and frantic whispers.

“What can I for you and your wife, sir?” The same manager was back on the line, talking as though they hadn’t been talking in circles for the past twenty minutes.

“I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!” He snarled an obscenity, then slammed the receiver back in the cradle.

Through her hazy vision and the buzzing in her ears, Belle could vaguely hear the sound of Gold’s voice ranting in the background.

Is this what it felt like to go into shock?

This afternoon Belle had taken his food, and moments ago she had tried to steal his hotel room. It wasn’t the best way to turn the man she was quasi-dating into her boyfriend.

At least he wasn’t angry with her. Yet.

He’d smiled and greeted her like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be snooping around his room. He padded out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel from the waist down, his lean chest wet from the shower and his hair hanging in damp waves around his shoulders. She’d wanted to comb her finger through the those silky brown strands and never stop. Even from six feet away he smelled incredible, like citrus and heather.

Seeing him practically naked with a huge, comfortable bed as a backdrop was one of her wildest fantasies come to life. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak, and she sank into the couch while her brain shut down. By the time she collected herself, he was on the telephone growling in a way that shouldn’t be sexy, and who was he yelling at, anyway? Belle shook her head, her thoughts scattered like dry leaves in an autumn breeze.

Should she leave? Head downstairs to the reception desk herself to straighten out this mess? She looked toward the door, not certain she could walk out of the room without falling over. Thinking better of making an idiot of herself three times in one day, she fumbled through her handbag in search of her phone. Thank God she’d made up with Ruby. Leroy was a darling, but she couldn’t explain any of this to him. But Ruby? She would know what to do.

Belle: You there?

Ruby: Halfway through my third apple pie martini. $5 tonight at the Rabbit Hole. You in NYC yet?

Belle: I’m dying. Not literally, but yeah. Gold and I are at the same hotel in the city. In the same room.

Ruby: Wow!

Belle: So what do I do?

Ruby: I’ll skip over the obvious and go straight to the advice: Jump him.

Belle: ???!!!

Ruby: I mean it. Go for it. You want him. He wants you. This is like a repeat of Granny’s at lunchtime, only you’re alone now so it won’t shock anyone when you start tearing each other’s clothes off and throwing them at the windows.

Belle: He was naked when I got here.

Ruby: Even better.

Belle waited, seeing the little bubbles indicating Ruby was still typing.

Ruby: For you. Not for me.

Belle: Haha. Funny. Yesterday you hated him. Now you want me to go to bed with him. There’s no halfway with you, is there?

Ruby: Nope. What’s the point of dancing around the obvious? The two of you are perfect together. Now go make out and other stuff. I want details later.

“I have no wife! There is no Mrs. Gold!”

Belle dropped her phone to the carpet with a thud at the sound of Gold’s bellow, then scrambled to drop it back in her bag. Ruby had been no help anyway. She stood up and smoothed her clammy hands down the front of her skirt. “What happened?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” Gold combed through his hair with his fingers. It was almost dry now, tousled in soft waves. Belle stared at him in disbelief, waiting for more. The tick in his jaw seemed to speak to her, revealing that he knew more than he was letting on.

“You were on the phone for quite a while.” Laughter burst out of her in a nervous squeak. “Things like this don’t just happen. This is a massive hotel in the middle of Times Square.”

“Indeed.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Maybe that’s precisely how it happened and why. According to the twit of a manager I spoke to, you cancelled your reservation yesterday.”

“What?”

“You’re now registered to my room, under my reservation.”

“What?”

“You already said that.” He rubbed his fingers together, his smile patient. “Some women work under professional names and are married under a different name. Clearly they assumed…”

“They can do that?” She wrung her hands.

“Apparently.” He laced his fingers together behind his head and sighed, the motion parting his robe about the waist to reveal a v-shaped patch of skin. The top three buttons of his pajamas were undone. Her fingers itched to touch his lean, golden muscles, to discover if they were as soft as they looked.

Keep your hands to yourself, Belle. He didn’t want her here; she was in the way. His harsh words on the telephone told her as much. It wasn’t like she expected him to marry her tomorrow, or ever, but they were sort of dating, weren’t they? At the very least they were friends. His anger at the hotel’s assumption that they were married stung like a slap.

“Are you done in the bathroom?” she asked in a small voice.

“I am.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to go in there and die now.”

“Belle, please. Don’t—”

“You’re right; I should leave,” she amended in rush before she had to listen to him ask her to go. “Did they say…is there another room I can move to?”

“There is.” He winced. “Downtown at a partner hotel. It’s in Tribeca.”

“Fine.” Relieved she had a place to go, yet crushed he didn’t want her to stay, she retrieved her shoes from under the desk, then gathered her suitcase and shuffled toward the door.

“Belle, stop. It’s late.”

She paused halfway to the door, but didn’t turn around. “All the more reason for me to be on my way.”

At her back, she felt the warm weight of his hands on her shoulders.

“Please, let’s think this through,” he said, squeezing her shoulders slightly. His breath tickled the back of her neck. She stiffened, bothered by the effect of his hands on her body, and he stepped away.  “We’re both here in a professional capacity and there’s no reason we can’t share the room.”

She didn’t reply and he furrowed his brow. “You’re not here for a conference?”

“No, I am.”

“Then you need to stay. You can’t be running to and from downtown to midtown over and over for what, two days?”

She shrugged. “Three, actually, but—”

A knock at the door cut her short. Gold moved around her to answer it, and a young man with nondescript features wheeled a cart into the room. Gold tipped him with a crisp $20 bill and sent him away.

“I’m sorry for the interruption. You were saying?” Gold whisked the cover off a platter of cheeses, crackers and fruit. A bottle of champagne was nestled on ice inside a sterling silver bucket. Belle’s stomach rumbled.

“Nothing.” She extended the handle on her suitcase and started wheeling it toward the door again. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’ll let you get back to your room service.”

“It’s not for me, my dear. It’s for you.” Smiling, he skimmed a stiff sheet of cream stationery, then handed it to her. It was a note from the evening manager addressed to Mrs. French-Gold, expressing the entire management team’s deepest apologies for the inconvenience.

“Groveling, as well they should.” Gold’s nod was sharp. “Mrs. French-Gold indeed. I told them we are furious at this misunderstanding and have considered never working with this hotel again.”

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise, but no sound came out. She wondered if he was more angry about being forced into this situation or at being forced to claim her as his wife. Her shoes began to pinch her toes.

“At least stay and have a drink with me,” he continued, grabbing the handle of her suitcase before she could protest. He placed it in the far corner of the room and threw her a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Then, if you really want to go, I’ll call a taxi and escort you to the other hotel myself.”

She glanced at the elegant cart laden with wedges of brie and roquefort, nuts, dried apricots, grapes and apples. It did look delicious and she was hungry. There was no way Mayor Mills would approve an extravagance like this on her own hotel bill, and she couldn’t afford decadent five-star room service on a small-town librarian’s salary. “You would do that for me?” she asked, unable to keep the irony from her tone.

“Of course I would, Belle.” Hurt flashed on his face.

Her confusion mounted when the inviting gleam in his warm brown eyes turned flat and dull, making her regret her words. He said he wanted her to stay, and despite his rough, angry tone on the telephone, she wanted to be here with him. She bit her lip, considering. As he said, she didn’t have to spend the whole night. How much harm could one drink do?

“I see you’ve come to a decision. Good.” The endearing, lopsided smile that tied her stomach into knots was back. He handed her a champagne flute filled with a bubbling, rose-colored liquid, his warm fingertips brushing hers. “Let’s think of this evening’s events in pleasant terms…more of a surprise date?”

She looked down at her feet in surprise to find she’d already kicked off her pumps.

“All right,” she said, raising the cool crystal to her lips. “I’ll stay.”

Convincing Belle to stay had been harder than he expected, but after her first glass of champagne she seemed to forget all about going to the other hotel. Now she was seated in the middle of the huge bed, legs tucked under her, popping chunks of blue cheese into her mouth and chasing them with gulps of champagne.

A bit of cheese caught on her lip and she frowned, darting after it with the tip of her tongue. Gold settled against the leather desk chair and enjoyed the view. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Since she’d arrived, he hadn’t been able to stop imagining laying her out on the bed. He would peel away her clothes to reveal her sheer black stockings and white lace panties, then kiss his way up and down her body, bringing her pleasure until she begged him to stop.

He was painfully hard from playing his fantasy reel, but common sense prevailed. It was close to midnight and they both had early mornings. He dragged himself toward the bed and lifted one of the pillows she wasn’t leaning against. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, look at the time! You don’t want me here all night.”

Gold tamped down a groan of frustration. She had no idea. But hadn’t he practically tripped over himself begging her to stay? “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You did.” She pouted, her sweet mouth forming a delicate moue he always found annoying on other women, but on Belle…good God, Belle.

“I may be clumsy and awkward and kinda tipsy but I’m not deaf.” She rose up on her knees and jabbed her finger at his chest. “I heard what you said on the phone. When they thought I was your…we were married…you acted like you’d been accused of murder.”

“Belle, no.” He whisked away her empty glass and took her hands. “You have it all wrong. This is just a huge misunderstanding.”

“So you’ve said.” She hiccupped. “I hope you realize I didn’t do this on purpose. Set you up to be in the same room with me.”

“I know that, sweetheart,” he soothed, rubbing her palms with his thumbs.  

“And you’re not the one who completely mortified yourself in front of everyone in Storybrooke and Manhattan.” She chewed her lower lip, deepening the color of the flesh to ruby. “I may not have had sex in three years, but I wouldn’t trap you into spending the night with me.” Still kneeling on the bed, she removed her hands from his and put them on her hips. “I have self-respect.”

“Oh, come now, Mrs. Gold,” he teased. “It’s not as dramatic as all that, is it?”

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You really know how to make a girl feel better, don’t you?”

“Well, interpersonal relationships are my speciality.” He started to laugh, but the sound died on his tongue. “But what if I want to?”

“Wanna what?” She pinned him to the spot with those inquisitive blue eyes.

Gold hesitated; he could change the subject. They were both tipsy enough for him to laugh it off, but the words were out there and he didn’t want to take them back. The bottle of champagne they’d consumed together had loosened his inhibitions and he was tired. Tired of holding out, guarding his heart, pretending he didn’t care.

Since he first started spying on her during the movie nights three months ago, all he wanted was to be with Belle French. Now she was here in his hotel room. He would be a complete fool to send her away.

“Spend the night here.” He cleared his throat. “With you.”

She smoothed her hand across the comforter, then met his gaze. “You mean in the same bed?”

“Yes,” he said, surprised by the huskiness in his voice. “I don’t mind if we sleep in the same bed. Do you?”

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#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #a monthly rumbelling #mr. gold x belle french #bedsharing is coming #ruby lucas #meet me in the courtyard #mqc writes