#trying to work through the ick after being in bed for a few days

[placesyoucallhome]

hhguhgg

[yantalia545]

Headcanons about a yandere platonic germany? I hope ur having a good day/night ♡

Due to Germany's lack of romance, I can't imagine his relationship with you being much different. Just less intimate and a bit more relaxed with you; Just a tad more relaxed.

As your friend, he'll be very concerned over you much like he is with Italy. Even if you are a bit more put together like Japan, you're still at risk of the others. Especially Russia and America. Just one side glance over something he doesn't like would usually be enough to get them to stop. Though, Germany's not afraid to go verbal if he has to. It's all for you, after all.

Germany will hover over you much like a concerned parent. It would be nice for you since you always know that you have someone strong beside you to help you out if you find yourself in any trouble. However, sometimes he can be a little overbearing and strict. If things are getting a little tense between you two (The WW's for instance), you may suspect him of trying to take over your country or something and begin to restrain your interactions with Germany. Much to his dismay.

There will often be arguments over how much Germany is allowed to be involved in your personal life. Most times, he does tend to back down. Remembering to look over you in a more secretive approach as he apologizes.

He'll definitely dictate who you can consider friends. Germany can't risk losing you over a conflict of interest. Definitely gives in to more trade deals with you than others as an act of friendship. He wants you as close as possible to him without you lashing out at him. Germany desires nothing more than to have as close to a normal relationship with you as possible.

If things do become tense between you two or he feels you're in danger (most likely America and Russia's doing), then he may result in keeping you under rap until everything blows over. If you try to refuse or leave, Germany will take countermeasures. He's not above locking you in his basement until he feels it's safe. You are his dearest friend. It's his job to make sure nothing bad happens to you. Scream and cry at him all you want, but refuses to let you out in inmate danger.

Don't worry though, Germany would treat you much better than any of his prisoners. In his mind, you're not being held captive, you're just too damn suborn to see that you need his protection more than ever right now. You'll be treated with care. The best foods that he prepares, a comfy bed with your favorite colored sheets and comforter to sleep on, and even lots of books, art supplies, and games to keep you occupied while he's away. Have a precious pet? Hell, he brought them along too so you have no need to worry.

It looks like he's been preparing for this for a while now.

Try to escape and well....

~~~~~~~

You don't really know how long you've been down in Germany's care now. A few days. Maybe a week tops. It's hard to tell when there are no windows. The only way you have to tell time is through the different meals that Germany brings.

You've had enough of being here. You just want to go home.

Germany is being weirder than ever and you're not getting much of an answer out of him. From the years that you've known him you know that he can be quite stubborn. If reasoning won't work, then you'll just have to get out yourself and wait for things to die down with Germany again. This isn't the first time he's been too stubborn over something ridiculous.

You were trying your best to pry a bolt out from the barred door. The rock you found was a little too small, but it was all you got. It was like Germany made sure to clean the place you got here.

It was strange being here for lack of a better word. With the way everything was set up, all well put together and thoughtful of your hobbies, You began to wonder what other things Germany does when you're not around. It makes you feel a sort of ick that you just can't seem to shake. How long has Germany been planning to keep you like this? Better yet, when did he start planning?

There was the sound of the familiar screeching of the door from somewhere down the hall and you froze. Germany was coming.

You tried your best to quickly place the bolt loosely back in place. You barely made it over to your bed with a book before Germany was at your cell door.

“Good morning, (y/n).” Germany greeted as if it were a normal day. You tried to keep calm and act like you were reading the whole time, but your heart was pounding. You worried that Germany could hear your racing heart from across the room.

Just before you were about to speak you were interrupted by the sound of a small clink towards the stone floor. Just as Germany was placing the key into the lock, the bolt you were working on fell out of place.

Your heart jumped in your chest when he leaned down and picked up the object; inspecting it closely.

"Huh, the bolt from the door has seemed to come loose. You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you (Y/N)?" Germany asked. Taunting you. He wasn't a fool. He already knew you were the one to blame. An escape attempt that he's discovered.

You couldn't say a word. You were too stunned to make any sort of movement. You had been revealed by your captor.

A sigh emitted from Germany as he moved his hand through his gelled blonde locks. "You know, I do this for your own good. I tried to be fair to you, but now you leave me with no choice."

Your heart sunk at the thought, 'You leave me no choice'. What does that even mean?!

You could only stare in horror as he opened your cell door and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Out of instinct, you pushed yourself to the opposite side of the bed and pushed the bed at him. Germany didn't have enough time to react before he was knocked over the bed. You only made it about halfway out the your cell when you were tackled to the ground. You tried to retract your hands and get away, but Germany was too strong and pulled your hands behind your back.

[thedeb]

Hello there dear undertale au fandom despite the fact I'm taking a break from the fandom in hopes to be able to quit my fnafic will still continue.

If you have never seen my account or come across the fic I will include the first chapter here and the link to the fic on ao3 <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57182554 via @ao3org

Keep in mind this is my first ever fanfic so it won't be perfect but I will fix it as time goes by!

Third-person POV:

Let's start with a bit of a backstory y/n a normal person in their early adulthood life who has been living in one hell of a calm neighbourhood.

They inherited the house they currently live in from their grandparents, shocking how they gave the house to them and no one else well maybe they wanted the house intact for a few more years since y/n was not sure if it was in any other relatives' hands it would still even count as a house but y/n wasn't concerned about the reasoning they have been living there for some years now.

Their living area was far away from any distant or immediate family and they loved it to stay that way, they had already spent half of their life so far with them, their not going to live with them by constant meetings and contact since it would beat the whole purpose of moving out, buuutttt there was a bit of a problem with this house now you see there's this window that stares right into y/ns next door neighbours back yard very odd and uncomfortable but they didn't care after all that house has been on sale for ages at this point they should just count it as abandoned

And they were happy that no uncomfortable interactions were going to happen anytime soon

Right?

Well

It was as they thought until one day y/n was just laying down on their bed scrolling through social media, when they put their phone down and came back to reality they realised they missed a lot of noises coming from outside, noises that sounded specifically like heavy car or machines

They quickly got up and left their cave (room) to peek out from one of the house's many windows to see where these noises are coming from and why the hell would there be any type of heavy cars or machines near their house

As they peeked outside they were met with a massive heavy car in front of the house next to theirs

They paused why wouldn't they be informed about this wait no why would they even need to be informed on it, they thought:

"cool finally about time to give that dusty house the good old wrecking ball"

But, little did they know that their assumptions were more than wrong, as they kept on being nosy and peeking they spotted two skeletons in front of the house as people seemed to be loading the house with furniture y/n the thought:

"Wait is someone seriously moving into that old house? Or are people just getting all the stuff out to destroy? What are those two skeletons some Halloween decorations? No, I swear I saw them move maybe they're animatronics?"

Y/n just stood there staring and being a nosy neighbour and cooking up all types of possibilities&nbsp; in their head until they saw the skeletons walk, it took a long and confusing while for the realization to hit them like a train

"OH MONSTERS"

They screamed at themselves in their head.

The realization only occurred when y/n remembered that monsters have been living on the surface for a while now and a while we're talking about only 2 years, yes y/n did have to admit to themselves that 2 years is still a lot and bashed themselves for forgetting

But still, it was super weird seeing skeletons walk around, with no skin, you know...

Y/n then realised how creepy it was how their staring at these two monsters like a desperate ex trying to get someone back by stalking them, they icked at the idea then they decided to walk away from the window talking to themself:

"Well this will take some time to get used to.."&nbsp;

Well even though the monsters have been here for two years it still hasn't changed the fact that y/n has never met one close up or interacted with some to even live next to them, but they wonder .

"Why a neighbourhood that has old people in them...I mean by now monsters should know the most brutal racists and disrespectful people are these old people who think they're entitled to everything all because they soggy old meats of emoness"

Then they snap themselves out of it.

Present time

Y/n still hasn't interacted with the new unexpected neighbours all they do is go out for work and they do it quickly they waste no time to avoid any type of chance that will make them interact with the monsters, well the only reason y/n was avoiding them was because they where nervous they didn't trust themself to interact with these two they guess brothers would go well y/n was sure they will say some out of pocket things out of awkwardness and unfamiliarity..

But they ran into a problem, a BIG problem "Did I seriously forget?" They thought staring through the window that stares into the old house's backyard "Oh my God..." they say because that damn window is on top of the sink, the same sink that they use to wash their dishes and cook and this window wasn't tiny noooo their grandparents just needed to make it as long as possible "dear grandparents... I DON'T CARE WHAT TYPE OF FREAKY RELATIONSHIP YOU GUYS HAD WITH THE OLD NEIGHBOUR BUT THIS MASSIVE WINDOW IS WAY TOO MUCH" they fumed staring at the sink from far away as it was packed with dirty icky dishes .

Maybe it's time to become delusional like toxic religious people.

And this wasn't to be quick no... because y/n didn't have a dishwasher, they were too broke for all that money, so they just stood there like a lunatic staring at the sink like it murdered all their family members.

Yeaahhhhh...yippeeee this plan of avoiding their new neighbours is going to fail horribly .

How perfect

[devinescribe]

Found You

Part 8 to '100 Promises'

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Warnings: swearing, I think that's it

"Oh shit... agh, brainfreeze," you cursed, holding your head. It was a hot summer afternoon, and you had decided to get ice cream with Niragi. "Dumbass," he laughed, watching you groan in pain. You glared at him, the pain going away. "Fuck off," you said, going back to slowly licking at the ice cream. He shook his head, laughing slightly.

He made his way through the hole in the wall. No, it wasn't a hallway, a literal hole in the wall. It went through and led into the kitchen. He had found out about it once when he saw Last Boss come out of it during one of his patrols. He followed it, and saw were it lead. By process of elimination he had narrowed down the other player of the game to be Last Boss. So, in a general assumption, he assumed you would be in the kitchen. It was dark as he made his way through it, hoping to get out of it as soon as possible. It gave him a bad feeling. Why was there a random hole in the wall leading to the kitchen? It seemed awfully strange to him. Like something out of a horror game when the monster jumps out to attack you. "Oh hell no, damn my thoughts straight to hell," he cursed, walking faster through the tunnel.

Finally, he was at the entrance to the kitchen. It was covered up by a couple things, but, he managed. When he did he heard you giggling about something.

"You know, I think this was a great idea," you giggled, nibbling on one of the cookies. "I know of quite a few places to hide if you ever need one. It can get... loud... hectic... and chaotic here," Last Boss responded. You smiled. You were about to bite the cookie again, before arms were around you. In the moment, you panicked, grabbing the person back and flipping them onto their back. You quickly grabbed the knife you'd picked up earlier, pointing it them, before noticing it was Niragi. You let out a relieved sigh. "Ow... that hurt," he groaned, sitting up, holding the back of his head "Sorry. Don't sneak up on me like that," you said. He smirked. "That makes 1,853 games of hide and seek in a row I've won. 8 year winning streak," he bragged, obviously over getting hurt. "Oh go fuck yourself, you whore," you insulted, flipping him off, sticking your tongue out. You turned to Last Boss and smiled. "It was nice hiding with you," you said. Said man was confused on how you kept switching between your emotions so quickly. "Oh... uh, it was nice... hiding with you too, I guess," he responded. You laughed, holding a hand out to Niragi. He grabbed onto you, and you helped him up. "See, I'm a bitch, but at least I'm just a bad bitch, not a heartless bitch," you laughed. He smiled a bit. Standing in the kitchen with you talking, the warmth. Even Last Boss was talking to you. Everything about it felt like home. Home felt like you. Home felt like the feeling he got whenever he was with you. Maybe it was because you were home.

He watched as you talked avidly with Last Boss. You two seemed to get along, which was good. "Shit, it's already 12 am? Don't we have a supply run thingy tomorrow?" You questioned, finally noticing the time. "Uh... yeah," Niragi responded. "At least were not drunk... then Aguni might have a problem," Last Boss said. Both men shuddered, remembering what had happened last time. "Ooh, spill!" You said, sitting on top of one of the counters. Last Boss shook his head, and Niragi looked away. "Was it that bad?" You asked, a smirk building it's way across your face. "One thing you'll notice about Aguni is... he's like... a military dad. He's strict, but also doesn't care at the same time? But there's rules. And since there's few rules, it's not like you can forget. So... yeah," Niragi explained. "Can't wait to actually meet this man and see if you guys are exaggerating," you giggled. "Alright, get off the counter so we can go to your room," Niragi sighed, stretching his arms. "Carry me?" You asked, hiding your laughter. "Last time you said that, we both fell down the stairs," he reminded, rolling his eyes. "That's because you have weak noodle arms you lanky bitch," you said, laughing. "Ahahahaha fuck you."

You three finally made your way up the stairs. "So, does everyone just... party the whole night?" You asked, seeing as there was no on really in the lobby, but you could still hear the heavy bass of the loud music playing outside. Niragi nodded. "Fun for them, annoying for those who actually try to sleep," Last Boss commented. It was really just a paradise for people. A safe haven for players. And why wouldn't it? There's protection, other people, food, supplies, electricity. Anything you could want or need was at the Beach. It was curious how they managed to put it all together. So well thought out.

"Well... goodnight," you said, opening the door to your new room. "I'll wake you up tomorrow. By any means necessary," he stated, disappearing into his room. You sighed, closing the door behind you. It felt the same, but it was different. You knew that it would be hard to adjust, but a part of you had already adjusted. Maybe it was the years of torture through your childhood, or the things you put up with in your day to day life, but this didn't feel weird at all. It felt... normal. Besides the games, no negatives were really made clear to you. So, what was so bad about being here? It seemed better than your normal life. You sighed, shaking your head. You shouldn't be thinking like that, your life before was just fine with Niragi. You thought you had lost him. But, then you found him here. So even in places of despair and chaos, you could find a silver lining. "Ick... that sounds cheesy," you muttered, getting under the covers of the bed. The second you laid down, all the pain in your body was alleviated. The pillows were cold under you, the bed soft. You let out a satisfied sigh. If this was what staying at the Beach was like, you wouldn't mind. But, you also couldn't let yourself fall into that mentality. Your eyes drooped slowly, sleep taking over your body.

"And how was your date?" You asked as soon as he walked into through the door. "We never speak of her again," was all he said with a groan. "Goddamn, that bad? What did she do?" You questioned, as he walked over to the couch, sitting besides you. "Well, at first, she was ok. Then she immediately went into the topic of money, which like big red flag, but I didn't care. Right after we started talking about friends and family. I brought you up, and she was all like 'no, you see, that's not going to work because I have to be the only special girl in your life' and I was like, well... jealous much? I don't know who hurt her but it's... ugh," he groaned. Niragi had never been interested I'm dating per se. He didn't have any interest in anyone all throughout high school, which was one of the reasons people thought you two were together. "What about you? How'd it go?" He asked. "Not great. He was narcissistic, misogynistic, and rude. Like... 'women belong in the kitchen' kind of misogyny. God it was horrible. A total incel of a boy," you explained, shaking your head. "Looks like we both have trouble with dating, hm?" He said, leaning his head back, staring up at the ceiling, following the cracks in them. He'd always suggested you two move, especially with the occupation both of you had, you could afford to move somewhere else. You'd always tell him to wait a couple years because you never know what could happen. You had always said, "What if you meet the person of your dreams and decide to move in with them?" He never thought much about having someone else. It was always (Y/N) and Niragi against the world. It seemed weird to his mother last time she had called to ask about that. He'd told her the same thing. "No one really... interests me. No one ever has."

Now, his mother was a person who changed herself for the better. She had never had the courage to leave her husband, his father, however. She observed her son's behavior, and asked him something that really made his mind question itself. "Do you think no one interests you... because you like (Y/N)? In a more than friend way, I mean." He had never thought about that. At all. He had only ever known kindness from you, and his mother later in life. So, did he? He couldn't have. It would be wrong, wouldn't it? To insinuate such a thing to you?

Screaming, heat, fires, crumbling debris all around you fell. The smoke and ash heavy in the air. " 'Ragi?! What's going on?!"

Shattered glass stuck onto your arms, blood dripping onto the asphalt. "You can't leave me... you can't, not again!"

Wake up.

"(Y/N), you can't leave me now..."

"I can! What the hell made you think that was ok!"

Wake up.

"You're bleeding!"

"No shit Sherlock. It's called getting shot. Somehow, I just can't seem to die."

"Don't fucking say that!''

Wake up.

"Oi! Wake up!"

"Don't leave me-! What the hell? What's going on?"

"It's time to wake up. We have a supply run to do.''

[unsettledink]

Kinktober Day 25

No Lies

Prompt: Makeup

Word Count: 4803

Summary: Peter’s secret, shameful little fantasy— well, it isn’t any worse than Tony’s.

If Peter wants to make him cry, Tony will be more than happy to oblige.

(humiliation, crying, self loathing, slut shaming, emotional sadism, aftercare, Peter’s trying out new things)

*

Peter tells him about it in a hushed little whisper, a confession, curled up in Tony’s arms. Doesn’t look away from Tony’s chest, like he’s ashamed, soft and stuttering.

“It’s almost more like a picture in my head than a whole action?” Peter says. “This one image: MJ looking up at me, crying, and it’s made her makeup go all messy, smudged purple and grey around her eyes like a bruise and her lipstick smeared, these dark lines down her cheek.” He shivers. “And I know— I know she’s crying because I’ve done something to hurt her, because I’ve said some awful things, really mean, untrue things. I know it and I don’t feel bad about, I feel really, uh. Really turned on.” 

He tucks himself a little closer, resting his forehead against Tony’s chest. “Sometimes,” he says in a tiny voice, muffled, “that’s it, that’s enough that I come. But not always, and the rest of it— I just. She doesn’t say no or fight, but she doesn’t like it and I do stuff anyway. I don’t— I don’t know why I think those things. What’s wrong with me?”

“Hey, no,” Tony says, tipping Peter’s chin back. “Nothing’s wrong with you, baby. You’re not bad or weird or anything wrong.”

“I don’t want to hurt her!” Peter says. “I don’t even like the thought of it any other time, and it’d be awful if she cried. It doesn’t even make any sense anyway, MJ barely ever wears any makeup, especially not like that.”

“It’s not about reality, that sort of thing,” Tony tells him. “Fantasies just throw things together sometimes, stuff you didn’t think would be appealing. Anything can be hot, to someone.”

“I didn’t tell her,” Peter says. “I never would, I know she’d look at me like— I’m never going to tell her, especially not now, but I did ask her once if she’d wear some makeup for sex? I thought— maybe it was just the messiness?” He bites his lip. “She didn’t want to, and I couldn’t really explain why, so we just… didn’t. It felt bad. I kinda wish I hadn’t told you.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me. It doesn’t tend to end well, keeping those bottled up and hidden,” Tony says. “You know I like some strange stuff.”

“It’s not the same,” Peter mutters.

“It is,” Tony says, kissing Peter’s forehead. They stay curled up like that, Peter still tense under Tony’s hands. “Is— is it MJ specific?” Tony asks, carefully.

“What?”

“Do you only ever have that sort of fantasy about MJ?” Tony tries. “Or is the fact that it’s MJ what makes it hot?”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Peter says. “I’ve kinda had stuff like it before I was interested in MJ, so. It’s not just her.” He’s quiet while Tony thinks. “Does that make it better or worse?” and he’s gotten all quiet and miserable sounding again. 

“Neither,” Tony says, firmly. “It just makes it easier.”

*

When Tony’s gotten everything together—when he’s thought it through, as much as he can, planned things out—he sits Peter down.

“I have… a surprise for you,” he tells Peter. “Hopefully something you’ll like. Maybe not, maybe it won’t work at all, but then again if it does—”

“Tony,” Peter says. “Go back, you’re pulling a me.” Tony snorts. 

Dumps the bag next to him on the bed between them, makeup tumbling out.  

Peter stares at it. “What—” he says, and then seems to lose his words. He touches one of the tubes of lipstick with the tip of his finger.

“It won’t bite,” Tony says, which gets him a glare. “So, you said this wasn’t MJ specific, right?”

“It— what?” Peter says. “Are you— you’d wear it? For me? For this crazy thing? Seriously, that’s not— uh.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn it,” Tony says. “What?” he adds when Peter frowns at him. “It was the eighties, okay? Everyone was doing it. It’s more that I don’t know if it will work for you if it’s me.”

“It would work,” Peter says, dazedly, which is a great sign. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I can’t— how would I even make you cry, I don’t want to say those things to you! Even if they didn’t work on you, cause why would they? You’re all—” and he waves his hands, like that’s supposed to mean something.

“All that?” Tony says, grinning.

“Ugh, I mean, all put together and confident and stuff,” Peter says, and he should know by now how much of that is surface level. 

“You could make me cry,” Tony tells him. “Wouldn’t even have to be that mean, just hit certain spots the right way. And it helps if I’m sort of… in the right mindset. It’s—” Okay, he hasn’t brought this up with Peter yet, because Peter hasn’t really shown much interest in this sort of thing aside from this one little fantasy. 

“I don’t mind being treated like that,” Tony says. “Under the right circumstances, I can even, well. Like it. Or, not like it, but enjoy it. Get off to it, at least.” Peter’s staring at him, wide eyed. “You’re not the only freak here,” Tony says.

“You’re not a freak,” Peter says immediately. “But— really? You could? You do?” 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “I can tell you what would work best for the… intended effect, on me. And if that isn’t working, you can always get some tears out of me with a good face fucking.”

Peter blushes, but Tony knows he would like that. Both of them would. 

“We won’t mess around with any sort of consent stuff, okay?” Tony says. “If I say stop or no or anything like that, you can be sure it means exactly that. I don’t want you worrying about that for this. Not this time.” Peter nods, because they’ve talked about this, vaguely, before. 

“Just—” Tony hesitates, because this is the only part he’s not sure of. He doesn’t want to freak Peter out. “If it works really well, I might take a while to stop, even after you have? I can get… overwrought. Get so caught up it’s not easy to snap out of it and stop feeling like that. Do you understand that?”

“I think so,” Peter says. “I need to be patient?”

“Yeah, but as much— don’t freak out and start thinking you’ve done something wrong, or broken me. All I need is time and something to cling to and it’ll pass.” 

“Okay,” Peter says. “I think I can do that.” 

Tony gestures at the makeup spread out between them. “Then why don’t you pick out a few things.” 

*

Peter just stares when Tony comes out of the bathroom. 

Stares and stares and stares, completely frozen. “I know I look good,” Tony says, “but come on kid, don’t you want to do something about it?”

“I— oh my god, Tony,” Peter says, almost a whisper, shocked. “You— you look really—”

Tony walks up to him while he’s still stammering his way through that; kisses him on the cheek, leaving a perfect red lip print. “I look really what?”

Peter swallows. “Really hot,” he says, finally. “You look really, really hot. Way better than I imagined.” 

“So it’s working for you?”

“Yes,” Peter says, nodding. “So working.” 

“Okay, baby,” Tony tells him, “you know what you want, and you know what I will take.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asks yet again. “Completely sure?”

“Completely sure,” Tony says, and sinks down on his knees. “Make me cry.”

“Oh god,” Peter whispers. He touches Tony’s face gently, his fingers trailing over his cheeks, the faint blush tinting them; across his eyelids, the dark purple black smokey eye Tony spent longer than he should have on; slowly catching his lips, dragging the bottom one down, the cheap dark red probably already smearing.

Peter kisses him, a soft touch. Pulls back and makes a face. “Ick,” he says. “Tastes gross.”

Tony mock pouts, a little teasing. “You don’t like it?”

There’s a hesitation, Peter’s hand coming back to press against Tony’s lips. “No,” he says, and it’s still a lot uncertain, worried. “I— I don’t. It makes you look like a joke. Like a— a freak.”

It’s amazing how hard that hits Tony, even though he expected every word. Even though he knows Peter doesn’t mean a syllable of it. He still feels his face heat, and the smile drops off his face. “It does?” he says.

Peter’s hand is still on his face; he’s tense, nervous, and his grip is a little too tight. “It makes you look like a whore,” he says, looking almost shocked at himself for saying it. He presses his thumb hard against Tony’s lips, rubbing it over them. “A cheap one,” Peter says. “The kind that you don’t even have to pay because they’d do it all for free. You’d— you’d do it all free, every single gross, filthy, obscene thing I could think of. Wouldn’t you?”

It’s as much the dull pain of Peter’s hand as the words that make Tony’s eyes sting, the corners a little wet. But the words— “I would,” Tony says, quietly, staring up at Peter. 

“You’re a slut,” Peter says, and Tony shudders. Peter jolts, pulling his hand from Tony’s chin and looking down at him, trying to figure it out. It was a good shudder, as good as it could be from being called a name like that, but Peter probably doesn’t quite believe it even though Tony told him. “It’s disgusting,” Peter says, carefully, watching him.

And a moment later, soft and startled; “Oh.” 

Peter tips Tony’s head back and looks down his body instead. “You’re hard,” he says. “You— you really do like this,” and it’s still soft, surprised. “You like me calling you a slut,” he says.

Tony drops his eyes, feeling that first flutter of shame in his stomach. “Oh,” Peter says again. “You like it,” and it’s sharp this time, twisted into something unkind, in a way he wasn’t sure Peter could do.

“Peter,” Tony whispers.

“That’s— you’re disgusting,” Peter says. “You know that, right? Under everything, you’re just a nasty whore.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his chest tight, his cock twitching. Holy shit, he didn’t think Peter really had it in him. 

He doesn’t look up, but Peter’s hand is on his face, forcing him to. “Say it,” Peter says, a little softer. “Tell me that you know it’s true.” He rubs his thumb over Tony’s lips, onto his cheek; Tony can feel the lipstick smearing, the stiff tackiness of it on his skin. 

“I know it,” Tony says. “I know I’m just— just a whore,” and there’s some truth to it, under everything. All he has, is, has been for sale at one point or another. That sick feeling spreads, grows.

Peter’s silent for a moment, spreading the lipstick further. “It’s the only reason anyone wants you,” he says, distantly, cool. “You’re only good for sex, aren’t you.”

It hits, hard, and even though Tony told Peter to say it like that, to tell him no one wanted him, it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut, feels that shame rise, squirmy. “I’m good at other things,” he whispers.

“Are you really?” Peter says. “Are you good enough at any of those things for people to want you?” and the answer is no, Tony knows it’s no. He holds his breath, fighting back the start of tears. “Maybe they want your money,” Peter adds, “or your name, or the things you make for them, but you’re useless for anything else. They don’t want you. I mean, look at you,” so sharp and disappointed that it does it, it sends Tony hurtling into that awful sick feeling, feeling it close around him. 

“Oh,” Peter says, and then both his hands are on Tony’s face, cupping his cheeks. Brushing at the first tears slipping down his cheeks, probably not enough to make anything run yet. “Look at you,” softer but still mocking. “Look at how easily you cry, over just a few words. Just a little name calling. Just because no one wants you.”

They come faster, because Tony knows there’s some truth to it. No one wants him, wants whatever is hiding behind the Tony Stark™ that he wraps around himself every day, just like the Iron Man armor. 

“No one wants you,” Peter says. “Look at me!” Tony opens his eyes, tears sticking his eyelashes together, melting the mascara. “No one wants you,” Peter repeats, looking straight at him, into him, laid bare. “If you could see yourself, you’d know it’s true. Who would want that?”

“No one’s going to love you,” he adds, thumbs rubbing over Tony’s cheeks, coming away with pale shimmer on them. ‘Everyone knows you don’t deserve it. Look at all the things you’ve done— who could ever forgive you for that?” 

Tony moans, his eyes closing again, and god, he is sick, isn’t he, that this has him wanting to curl up and sob, has him wanting to grab his cock and get off right this second. “Please,” he gasps.

“Please what?” Peter says. “Please want you? Love you? Forgive you? Why should I?” Tony shakes his head, frantically, and reaches for his cock. “Oh, I see,” Peter says. “Please let you touch yourself, like the sick freak you are for getting off on this? Uh, no. Ew. You’re pathetic.”

“Peter,” Tony says, “baby, I—”

Peter leans down, his face close to Tony’s and Tony stares at him, blurred with tears. “You are pathetic,” he says. “Just a sad old man that’s desperate enough to hit on a teenager, like some sort of creep. Hoping that maybe I’d be stupid enough to love you when no one else would.”

God, it’s true; it’s everything he’s denied when it’s an accusation thrown at him, but like this? The simple fact of it stated so simply? “You’re right,” Tony says, “you’re right, you are, I’m pathetic.”

“That’s right,” Peter agrees, sounding almost breathless. He brushes the backs of his fingers under Tony’s eye, pulls them away with black smeared across them. “What a mess you are. Finally the outside matches the inside.” 

“Peter, Peter please,” Tony whispers. “I’m good at something, you said I’m good at something, let me do that for you.”

“I don’t know if I want something as disgusting as you anywhere near me,” Peter says, and Tony could almost believe it. Almost does, because that’s a thought that runs this his head every day; how could Peter want this for real?

“Please, let me try,” Tony says. “Let me, I want— I’m not good for anything else, you said it. Use me for what I can do, anything I can do.”

Peter shoves his leg between Tony’s knees, his shin bumping into Tony’s cock. Tony jerks at the touch, gasps. “If you like it so much,” Peter says, “then you should find it easy to rub off on me like this, like some sort of mindless animal.”

“Oh god,” Tony manages, and Peter’s hand is in his hair, tugging back his head. Peter’s cock is at his mouth, against his lips and sliding in so easily when Tony parts them. Finally, he thinks, finally, he can show Peter he’s good at something, he’s worth keeping around. 

Peter thrusts into his mouth, a few short strokes, and then shoves Tony down on it as far as he can. 

Tony chokes almost instantly, gagging hard around the width of him, eyes tearing up even more. Gasps wetly when Peter withdraws, and then moans and gags again a second later. Peter’s not giving him a chance to adjust, to relax enough for this to be easy, just keeps fucking deep into Tony’s throat and waiting for him to gag before he stops holding him in place. 

“Is this what you call good?” Peter says. He holds Tony on his cock longer that time, long enough Tony starts fighting it, choking and gagging so hard he’s afraid he might throw up. Lets Tony go, finally, Tony jerking back hard enough he almost goes over. “Is it?” Peter asks. “Because it seemed more like you were too busy rubbing off on me to focus on the more important part of this.” 

Shit, he had, at least somewhat, without even realizing it; Peter’s leg is wet with precome.

“So you’re not even good at that,” Peter says. “There really isn’t anything you have to offer,” and he pulls his cock all the way out of Tony’s mouth, stroking it. 

“Please,” Tony says, “I can do better, I can, please let me.”

“Beg harder,” Peter says.

Tony does, he tries, watching Peter jerk himself off as Tony begs to be able to suck him again, to offer him anything; tells Peter he could fuck Tony, could use him, could hurt him, anything at all. 

“The only thing you’re good for is looking at,” Peter says, “shit, Tony— I’m— oh,” and he’s coming, Tony jerking and closing his eyes as it hits his face, hot and thick over the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks, on his eyelashes. 

“Oh my god,” Peter says after a moment, a sharp slide from the tone he's been using. “Uh— fuck. You— finish off, finish getting off on me like that. I want to see you come looking all messed up, come just from rubbing off; I thought I was the horny teenager here, but you’re a slut.”

It’s not hard, it’s not hard at all to rut against Peter’s leg and come as fast as he can, not if he thinks about how Peter must be looking at him, at what he must be seeing, everything smeared and running and come on Tony’s face and tears— and Peter had said he was good for looking at, had said that and now he was looking, christ. 

He jerks, folding forward as he comes hard enough for his head to smack into Peter’s hip, getting his mess all over Peter. Peter pushes his head back, ignoring the way Tony’s still shivering, hips moving. “I want to see you,” he says, catching Tony’s neck, holding him there. Tony shivers, a sharp spike through his head at it; he doesn’t want, doesn’t like Peter’s hand there, doesn’t— 

Peter’s hand shifts, sliding more to cup his face, and Tony leans into it. Keeps his eyes closed as Peter tilts his head up, getting a better look probably. He feels cold, a little numb even, but those things aren’t really related. There’s a deep black blankness in his head, a hollow space that could be filled with anything at all; little whispers of thoughts skittering across it. 

Thoughts that he is everything Peter said. Who’s he really kidding, pretending as hard as he can that he’s redeemable, that he can make up for the things he’s done by saving a few people, doing a little good? Everything he attempts is immediately outweighed by the next disaster on his head. Everything he touches ends up twisted, ends up hurting people before he can make it stop. 

No one wants him, and he knows that’s too true. Has seen what happens when he stops trying, the silence that becomes the default, people just grateful he’s gone. Has seen that they’re better off without him around. Not Peter, some part of his head tries to insist. Peter’s not like that. 

Because Peter’s able to love anyone, he thinks, even someone like me, and that’s not a good thing. 

And— it’s true that he used to be good at sex, able to offer that at least, but he’s getting old. He’s getting older by the minute, and more tired, and what he has to offer now isn’t a piece on what he used to. 

Peter’s hands move on his face; when Tony cracks his eyes open, he finds Peter on his level, kneeling in front of him and staring. He’s still flushed, still looking a little dazed. “Holy shit, Tony,” Peter says, trailing his fingers along Tony’s face, through the mess, the tears still dripping down Tony’s cheeks. “That was insane, you look amazing,” and his voice is softer, higher, back to the way he normally sounds after sex. Not that flat, distant way he’d been talking to Tony. 

“That was so much better—hotter—than anything I could have imagined,” Peter whispers. Traces Tony’s lips, his hand dropping to rest under Tony’s chin, and kisses him. It’s soft, gentle; Tony doesn’t deserve that sort of thing, but he closes his eyes again and leans into it. It’s almost too much when Peter kisses him again and again, all along his jaw and his cheek, the tip of his nose, feather light on his eyelids. 

Peter sighs after a while, pulling back. “I guess we’d better get you cleaned up,” he says. “Uh— can you like, get up and walk around and stuff?” Tony nods and lets Peter pull him up, opening his eyes just enough to keep from running into anything as Peter tugs him along. 

He leans against the counter once they’re there, pressing his hands flat against it and trying to gather himself together while Peter does something over there, digging around. He can’t stop crying, this stupid, helpless sort of crying, nearly silent but choking him all the same, tears just dripping from his face constantly. It’s pathetic. He looks up, and— and sees himself. 

The mirror doesn’t lie, he thinks. He really is pathetic. Look at him. Red eyed and red faced, come spattered across his cheek and nose and brow. The shadow around his eyes has spread, diffused and smudged until it looks like he has two black eyes, and the mascara has run all down his cheeks, grey streaks that are rubbed away at points, where Peter’s wiped them away. His lips would have been red regardless, darkened just from the blowjob, but the lipstick makes it more obscene, the way it’s smeared, like a streak of blood along his chin and jaw. 

And all of it cut through with tear tracks, wet and messy and gross, he’s so fucking gross, god. 

“Here,” Peter says, “let’s just— Tony? Hey, are you okay?”

Fuck. He has— he has to pull it together. Has to not freak Peter out, not make Peter think he did something wrong; Tony told him, told him to say no one wanted Tony, that he wasn’t good for anything, he told him to. 

Peter hops up on the counter next to him, his legs swinging. “Tony,” he says, and Tony looks over at him. He doesn’t know what to say. It doesn’t seem to matter; Peter pulls at him gently until Tony takes a few steps to the side, until he’s between Peter’s legs. One of them hooks behind Tony, heel catching on the back of his thigh and holding him in place. 

“You were so hot like that,” Peter says, tilting Tony’s head up. He’s got a washcloth that’s warm and soft and feels ridiculously good when he wipes at Tony’s face. “I was kind of worried I wouldn’t like it? Or it would feel weird? Or— or I’d feel bad, feel too bad and not be able to do it.” He dabs the corner of it around Tony’s eyes, delicate. “But I didn’t, I— you liked it, I could actually tell you liked it and that was crazy hot, that made me feel so good— that I could make you feel good saying those things, doing those things was just. I don’t even know, Tony.”

He leans over to rinse out the washcloth, rewet it, and Tony puts his hands on Peter’s thighs. Peter looks at him, a stutter of a pause. Wipes Tony’s mouth, all that red gone, and kisses him. He kisses Tony like it’s all he wants in the world, slow, soft little kisses that go deeper, go hungry before Peter gentles them again. Tony leans into it, helplessly, wanting. 

“You’re still crying,” Peter says, softly. Tony nods. “I know, you said it’s okay,” Peter says, “but— it is?”

Tony nods again, unable to explain more right this second. He feels sick and hollowed out, and he doesn’t hate it. He folds, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder and curling as close to him as he can, starting to shudder as the tears come faster, harder. 

“Oh,” Peter says, “oh god, Tony—” His arms come up around Tony, holding him tightly. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, this is— we’re okay. It’s okay if you need this, just… um, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Shit shit shit— he’s asking a lot from Peter here, he tried to warn Peter but this, he’s not prepared for this. “Sorry,” he manages, just a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” Peter says. “Please don’t be sorry, cause then I’ll have to be sorry and neither of us need to be, right?” He turns his head a little, kissing Tony’s neck. “You made this not something I need to feel sorry for, I think? I don’t feel as much like a bad person as I thought I would, so— so you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, I don’t mind you crying. I mean, I mind it cause I don’t really want to make you cry, but it’s okay if you do. And you said you would so…”

He trails off, and yeah, that’s Peter, that’s Peter right down to the core, he knows Peter.

“You know what,” Peter says. “This is not the best place for this. Here, just let me—” He tips Tony back, sliding off the counter. Gets a hand around Tony’s waist and one under his ass and lifts him up like it’s nothing, Tony grabbing at Peter’s shoulders. Jesus, that’s hot. 

Peter takes him to bed. Dumps him in it and crawls in after him, curling up with Tony tucked close. “This is better,” he says. “Totally better. Right?”

Tony nods. The tears are slowing a little, and that blankness is starting to fade around the edges, leaving him exhausted more than anything. He wants to hold onto Peter and hide and sleep for a week. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” Peter says. He’s got one hand in Tony’s hair, smoothing through it gently. “I can’t believe you made that happen for me,” he says. “You turned it into something even better and I— I can’t even start to thank you enough for that, Tony. It’s crazy how you keep making things happen for me.”

Maybe he’s not just good for sex. “Good for something, then,” he mumbles— fuck, no, he knows that’s not all he’s good for. He does.

“Good for a lot of things,” Peter says. “Uh. Hey, you know— you know I didn’t really mean any of that, don’t you? Like one hundred thousand percent don’t actually think any of those things. It’s all bullshit, that you can’t be redeemed or wanted or loved.” He touches Tony’s cheek, soft, following a tear track down. “I love you.”

The other times he’s done this, most of them said something like that. Not all of them; he’d made the mistake of trying it with a few people who really did believe every horrible thing they said about Tony. He’d thought maybe that would be better, more real, but it was worse. But most of them have tried to reassure him after that they didn’t really mean it. 

Most of them—okay, all of them—he hadn’t quite ever believed. Maybe they didn’t mean everything they said, maybe they only believed one tiny part of it, but Tony knows he’s an aching void underneath it all. People know, they see when you play like that. 

“You know,” he tells Peter. “I’ve done this before, the humiliation part at least. And I always wondered, after, how much they meant. How much they believed, regardless of what they said. But— god, Peter. I believe you.”

“Good,” Peter says, fiercely. “Because it’s true.”

“I know,” Tony says, and he does. He actually does. “It’s— different, doing it with someone you know it’s all words for. With someone I trust as much as I apparently trust you. You— you say it different.”

“Tony—”

“Shhh,” Tony says. “It’s not something to really talk about now; I’m still too fucked up to say things right. Tomorrow, alright?”

Peter slides closer, tangling his legs with Tony’s, and kisses him. “Alright,” he says after. “Later.” Lets Tony burrow against him and settle, drift, completely safe for once. 

“You really are insanely hot when you’re messy and crying though,” Peter whispers after a bit, and Tony— Tony believes that too. 

He thinks he’d believe anything Peter told him.

[kwanisms]

Jealousy - ick

anonymous said: can i ask for something smuty with changkyun where he’s your best friend or something like that, and doesnt admit hes jealous of you until he loses his mind? thank uuu love your work <3

⤑ genre: angst with a bit of smut, idol!Changkyun, best friend reader ⤑ pairing: idol!Changkyun x bff!Reader ⤑ warning: sexual content, foul language, slight daddy kink, choking, ⤑ summary: Changkyun is your best friend and you notice how distant he’s become since you befriended the rest of his members, especially his hyung, Kihyun. ⤑ word count: 5k

a/n: I hope this is okay, I wasn’t sure what you wanted Changkyun to be jealous about so I made up a reason. Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it! ~K♡

You pulled out your phone and felt a pang in your heart when you saw that Changkyun hadn’t opened your message. It had been two days since he last talked to you which was odd. Changkyun had been your best friend since you were kids.

When he became a trainee, the two of you lost contact but after he debuted with Monsta X, the two of you reconnected like you hadn’t spent a day apart.

It happened at a fan sign. You bought a ticket, luckily, and flew to Seoul to attend. You were halfway to the stage when you spotted Changkyun. He was smiling at and talking to a fan, signing their album while they told him a story.

After she finished, she moved on and Changkyun took the opportunity to look around, spotting you instantly and his eyes widened when he recognized you. The entire time you were working your way down the table, he threw glances at you until you finally reached him.

“Wow,” he breathed, dropping Korean for your language instead. “(Y/N),” he said smiling at you. “It’s been a long time,” he said, resting his chin in his palm and looking at you with a grin. “You look amazing,” he added looking down as you pushed your copy of their album at him.

He took it and started flipping through the pages of the photobook. Once he found what he was looking for, he started writing. “What have you been up to?” he asked.

You regaled him with the tale of your high school experience without him, navigating the halls you once roamed together until you graduated and went onto university. He listened with interest as you recounted the past few years without him.

He smiled up at you, capping his marker and taking care to close your album and put it back in its sleeve. “Let’s catch up, yeah?” he asked, giving you a wink and handing your album back to you. He took your hand in his and gave it a small squeeze.

“Make sure to look through the whole book,” he said nodding at the album. Before you could ask, you were ushered along to the next member while Changkyun turned his attention to his next fan.

After the fan meet ended and you returned to your hotel room, you pulled out the album and pulled out the photobook, flipping through it to find the members’ messages to you. It wasn’t until almost the end that something caught your eye. Changkyun had written a note at the very back of the book on a blank page.

“I have a new number, but my KKT is the same. Message me sometime,” it read. You hadn’t used the Korean texting app in years, losing it when you changed phones and never redownloading it.

You decided to give it a shot, downloading it and trying to sign in with your own credentials. It worked. You had all your old contacts back, including-- Changkyun.

You clicked on his user and pressed the freechat option. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, not sure what to type. You settled for something simple. “Hey, what’s up?”

His reply came quickly.

Kyun [21:42]: hey (: not much. Just got back to the dorms. Wbu? You [21:43]: just chilling in my hotel room. I check out in a couple days. Kyun [21:44]: you don’t leave for another day? You [21:44]: nope Kyun [21:45]: i’m free tomorrow after morning practice. Want to meet up?

You froze. Should you? Wouldn’t he get in trouble?

You must have taken too long to reply because Changkyun sent another text.

Kyun [21:47]: you okay? You [21:48]: won;t you get in trouble for hanging out with me? Kyun [21:49]: probably, but who cares? (; You [21:50]: … okay (:

The next day, the two of you met up around lunch time, grabbing a bite to eat before exploring the city. You wore a black dust mask and baseball cap at the request of Changkyun. “To protect your privacy,” he told you. The two of you spend a whole day out together, enjoying the mild weather.

You parted ways, promising to keep in touch until you moved to Seoul for work.

Months later, you made the move and Changkyun used bit of every free time he had to spend time with you. He called it making up for lost time. You were loving it. Everything was almost as if you never parted.

At first, Changkyun didn’t tell the members about you, wanting to keep it a secret for a while but eventually, they found out and started pressuring him for details. He couldn’t keep you a secret any longer. He told the guys about you and how he knew you.

To his surprise, they encouraged his friendship with you and even extended an invitation to you to come around and meet them and perhaps join them in a movie night, an offer you accepted the moment Changkyun told you about it.

So one Friday night, you got dressed in your comfiest clothes and made your way across town to their dorm. Changkyun met you downstairs and led you up to their dorm. Once inside, you were introduced to the rest of the members of Monsta X.

You had a great time hanging out with them and they enjoyed having you over so they continued to invite you over. Movie nights were a popular thing with your group. Changkyun always sat you between him and Kihyun whom you formed a very fast friendship with.

Little did you know how much your friendship with Kihyun would affect your relationship with Changkyun.

Before long, Kihyun started asking you to go out with him. You didn’t think much of it, since it was kind of the same when you went out with Changkyun. Just two friends hanging out.

After the first time was when you noticed Changkyun’s distantness. You asked him if he was okay and he confirmed he was. He asked you to spend a day out with him and you agreed, needing another day out after a rough week at work.

After going out with Changkyun, he seemed to return to his old self. Until you mentioned going out to get lunch and go shopping with Kihyun.

Changkyun refused to answer your texts and that was where you were at now. Dealing with him being unresponsive.

You were starting to worry so you did they only thing you could think of. You called Kihyun.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, (Y/N),” he said in a cheerful voice. “Hey, Ki,” you replied. “Are you guys home?” you asked. “No, we’re out right now. Well,” he said. “Changkyun’s home.” he added. “He mentioned not wanting to go out,” he said.

You nodded to yourself. ‘He has to be ignoring me then.’

“I was thinking of popping by to see him. Is that okay?” you asked. “Of course!” Kihyun replied happily. “Try to cheer him up, if you can. He’s been acting like a kicked puppy for a couple days now.” You thanked Kihyun for giving you the code to get in and started getting ready to head over.

The commute over was long, giving you plenty of time to think about what you were going to say to Changkyun. Maybe figure out why he was being so distant.

When you reached the dorm, you made your way up, unlocking the door to get in. Once in the dorm, you looked around, noticing that there seemed to be no sign of Changkyun. You made your way back toward his room, the sounds of a computer game growing louder with each step.

You peered into the room through the cracked door and saw Changkyun sitting at his desk, playing some sort of online game. You pushed the door open quietly, watching him for a few minutes. He was cursing and muttering under his breath at his opponents.

It was kind of cute. You decided to get his attention and coughed, clearing your throat. Changkyun jumped, spinning around to look at you. The moment he looked away from his screen, his character died and he swore loudly, rounding on you angrily.

“How did you get in?” he asked, getting up from his seat and crossing the room to meet you at the door. “Kihyun gave me the code,” you said, letting out a yelp when Changkyun grabbed your arm and started to lead you down the hall and towards the door.

“Well, Kihyun isn’t here, so go home,” he snapped, shoving you toward the door, causing you to stumble. You stood up straight and rounded on him. “I didn’t come to see Kihyun. I asked him for the code so I could come see you,” you said, your eyes narrowed.

“But clearly I made a mistake coming here,” you added bending down to slip into your shoes. “(Y/N),” Changkyun started scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t worry,” you said, choking back sobs. “I’ll just go since you clearly don’t want me here,” you said reaching for the handle of the door and turning it.

You had only pulled the door opened a little before Changkyun pushed it shut. You turned to glare at him, finding only his soft expression instead. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. The two of you stared at one another before you sniffled. Changkyun pulled you into a hug, wrapping you in his warmth.

“You’re mean,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his shoulder. He shushed you, hugging you tightly. “I know,” he replied. “I suck. I’m sorry,” he repeated. The two of you parted and Changkyun led you back down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind you.

You turned to face him, watching as he sat down on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. You moved to stand in front of him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair. “What’s wrong?” you asked. He looked up at you and instead of answering, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer, resting his head against your stomach just below your breast.

“I’m an asshole,” he said plainly. You smacked his shoulder lightly. “You’re not wrong, but don’t say that,” you said as you rubbed the spot you hit. The two of you said nothing until something hit you.

“Why did you think I was coming to see Kihyun?” you asked. He shrugged. ‘Nope. That’s not good enough.’ You took Changkyun’s face in between your hands and forced him to look up at you. “Answer me, Kyun. Why did you think I was coming to see Kihyun?” you asked again.

“Because you’re always spending time with him,” he murmured, not looking at you, instead looking off to the side. You narrowed your eyes at him. ‘Was he… jealous?’

“I spend time with you,” you countered and he shrugged. “Lately it feels like you’re all about Kihyun,” he said quietly. You poked his shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” you said and Changkyun looked up at you. “You’re jealous,” you said. The word struck a chord with Changkyun and he got defensive.

“No,” he said. “I’m not.” You smirked at him. “Oh my god, you totally are!” you said. Changkyun growled and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you down past him onto the mattress.

You let out a squeal as Changkyun tipped you backwards onto his bed. “Changkyun!” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as your best friend hovered over you, his face dangerously close to yours. You gulped, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as your heart thudded erratically in your chest.

You had never been this close to him before and it was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

“W-what are you doing?” you stammered, noticing the way Changkyun’s eyes dipped to your lips and then back up. Neither one of you moved nor said a word. ‘What is his deal?’ you wondered. ‘What is he thinking?’ you asked yourself.

Sometimes Changkyun was an enigma to you, doing and saying things to make you think one thing and then turning around and acting the opposite. It was confusing but you got used to it. You were experienced with his weird mannerisms. His cool facade.

What you weren’t used to was this man before you. The one with a stoic face but eyes that burned with the fires of jealousy. Changkyun had never been the type before to express jealousy before. He had never gotten mad at you for spending time with other guys. That just wasn’t him.

The man before you now was exactly that. Someone driven to do things he wouldn’t normally do because he got jealous over you spending more time with another man. What happened to him?

The feeling of Changkyun’s breath fanning over your face brought you out of your own thoughts, reminding you of the situation you were in. You watched as his eyes dipped to your lips again and back up to meet your eyes, flashing a split second warning before he acted.

He closed the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours and taking your ability to breathe away just like that. Your head swam with thoughts but your subconscious pushed those thoughts aside, allowing you to focus instead on what you were doing. You were being kissed by your best friend. So you did the only thing that made sense. You kissed him back.

Changkyun was shocked at himself for crossing the line he said he would never cross but he was even more surprised when he felt you soften under him, your lips moving against his gently as one of your hands moved to grab onto his bicep, squeezing slightly, urging him to continue.

Changkyun slowly laid his weight on you, forcing you down on your back, his hips resting between your thighs. The kiss slowly progressed as Changkyun parted your lips with his, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth and start exploring as your free hand moved to comb through his hair.

Feeling your nails against his scalp, Changkyun let out a soft moan, muffled against your lips. You tugged slightly, signaling him to pull back a little. The two of you didn’t move, instead stared at each other intensely as you both struggled to catch your breath.

“How long?” you finally asked. Changkyun took a couple of short breaths before responding. “Years,” he answered. You took his face in between your hands. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” you asked, studying his face. Changkyun shrugged. That answer wasn’t good enough for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked again. Changkyun sighed. “Because I would rather have part of you than none of you at all,” he answered. It was sweet in a self sacrifice sort of way. 

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss. “You can have all of me,” you murmured before kissing him again. Changkyun pulled away, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he asked sitting back up. You sat up to meet him. After studying his face you nodded. “Yes,” you said. “I mean that.”

Changkyun reached out, taking one of your hands in his. “Like, right now?” he asked and you cocked your head to the side watching as his eyes trailed down to look at his lap and back up. Glancing down you could see what he meant. You could see his growing erection through his sweats.

A sly grin pulled over your lips as you looked back up, meeting his gaze. You nodded your consent before grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him toward you, locking him in yet another kiss. Changkyun wasted no time in taking control, pushing you back on the bed, his lips still on yours.

He broke the kiss momentarily to remove his hoodie, revealing his white tee shirt. His lips attached to your neck, kissing along the sensitive skin under your jaw while his hands were free to wander, feeling their way down your sides to your hips and down the outsides of your thighs.

His hands gripped the underside of your thighs, pulling your hips closer against his as he pressed his hard on against your core, earning a gasp from you. You felt him nip at the skin on the side of your neck, running his tongue over the same spot before biting down a little hard, allowing a moan to escape your lips.

Changkyun, incited by your sounds of pleasure, grinded against you again, letting out a satisfactory moan at the friction. You could feel your arousal starting to pool in your panties and if he kept doing what he was doing, you would be soaking in minutes.

Despite never being intimate with him, Changkyun seemed to know your body better than you thought. Or perhaps he was just a quick learner. Whatever the case was, it was clear he knew what he was doing. Changkyun bucked his hips again, pressing his hard member against you and this time, you moaned out his name.

He pulled his head back to look at you, his pupils dilated as he looked into your eyes. “(Y/N)?” he whispered. Your hand moved to the back of his neck, preventing him from pulling away. “I need you,” you said breathlessly. Changkyun couldn’t believe this was happening.

He had fantasized about this for a few weeks now. Ever since he’d realized his feelings and desire for you were real, he’d wanted this exact moment to come but now that it was here, he didn’t know what to do. He froze, staring at you with wide eyes. ‘Shit.’

You sat up, taking his hand. “Changkyun?” you asked. At the sound of your voice, he seemed to come back to reality. His eyes met yours. “Are you okay?” you asked. He nodded vigorously. ‘A lie. He was terrified.’ “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

You could tell he was not fine. You could hear it in his voice. Instead of pressing him further, you scooted closer to him, almost straddling him. “Do you want to stop?” you asked softly, watching as he considered it. After a moment, he shook his head. “No,” he breathed.

He pulled you in for another kiss, his hands moving to your hips, guiding them against his own. You moaned, breaking the kiss to throw your head back while Changkyun’s lips kissed down your neck. “Lie back,” he said softly and you did, lowering yourself back onto the mattress. Changkyun grabbed the sides of your shorts and slowly pulled them down, pulling your panties with them.

He maintained eye contact as he discarded your shorts, tossing them to the side. His hands rested calmly on your knees before pushing them apart gently, eyes trailing down your body until he stopped at the place where you thighs met. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Your cheeks burned as he looked at you and you wanted to move; close your legs, cover yourself, something. Changkyun brought one hand down to trace your lips coated in your arousal and you shuddered at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut as he slipped a finger past your folds to find your clit.

He watched your face as he slowly massaged in circles, enjoying the way your hips twitched and you bucked involuntarily. It wasn’t long before he had you trembling, slowly building up your orgasm. He smiled as you tossed your head side to side, whimpers and moans leaving your mouth.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low tone, amusement laced in his voice. ‘Was he mocking you?’

You nodded, biting into the plush skin of your bottom lip. “Mhm,” you moaned, your hips slowly rising and falling to match his ministrations. Changkyun watched in awe as you started to ride his hand, your breath coming in shallowly, uttering soft whines occasionally. He couldn’t have you coming undone so easily.

He slid his finger into your entrance, enjoying the warmth that enveloped the digit. He could only imagine how amazing you would feel around his cock. The thought of sinking his hardened length inside you had him twitching in his sweatpants. He pushed those thoughts aside for later.

Right now, he was focused on your pleasure and making you feel good. Changkyun added a second finger, slowly pumping them in and out of you. One of your hands traveled from above your head down to cup your own breast and Changkyun’s mind filled with ideas.

He slowed his hand, causing you to look up at him. “Don’t stop,” you moaned. Changkyun chuckled, enjoying the amount of control he had over you. ‘Did he ever feel like this?’ he wondered but pushed that from his mind. Even if he did, it didn’t matter. You wanted Changkyun now, not Kihyun.

“Take your shirt off,” Changkyun said, nodding at the offending article. You obliged, taking it off you easily and tossing it aside. Changkyun had to stop and appreciate the sight before him now. You lying on your back, legs spread for him in nothing but a black lace bra. You were stunning.

Changkyun resumed his earlier speed, his fingers moving in and out of you quickly, stopping inside to curl against a spot that seemed to draw out the deepest moans he’d heard yet come from you.

“Fuck,” he swore, enjoying the way you sounded, knowing it was all because of him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, watching the rise and fall of your chest from your labored breathing as he coaxed a climax out of you.

“Please, Changkyun,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Changkyun smiled, moving to lie on the bed, his head between your thighs. “Soon, baby, okay?” he said softly. “I promise,” he added. You opened your mouth to respond but any words were taken and replaced with a moan when you felt the tip of his tongue against your clit.

He flattened his tongue, running it up and down, over your clit repeatedly before kissing it, sucking softly. You let out a cry, your walls clenching around his fingers. He tried not to smirk as he continued, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves while simultaneously pumping his fingers in and out of you, coated in your juices.

You couldn’t bear it anymore. Your body shook from the build up, unshed tears in the outer corners of your eyes. You just wanted to come already. You voiced your wants to Changkyun who merely chuckled.

“You want to come that bad, baby?” he asked, watching as you nodded frantically. He curled his fingers inside you again, rubbing against the rigid spot inside your walls that had your body trembling. “Do you want to come on my fingers or tongue?” he asked. Now he was getting cocky.

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t care, just please let me come!” you whined. Changkyun chuckled again. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t speak again, instead putting his mouth to better use as he brought you to the brink of orgasm with both his mouth and fingers.

Your body reacted to the overload of sensations by shuddering before you whimpered that you were about to come. Changkyun pulled back momentarily to encourage you. “Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.” He curled his fingers inside you, his tongue working wonders on your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge and you came with a cry of his name, your body shivering as he helped you ride out your high.

After a few moments, you felt Changkyun pull his fingers out, leaving you empty. He was only gone for a few moments before you felt the bed dip. He settled between your legs, moving them to make space. You felt the tip of his cock graze your entrance and you tried to sit up. “Wait,” you said and he paused, looking up at you with concern. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I should return the favor,” you said only to be met with a chuckle. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “I’d rather just be inside you right now,” he said, rubbing the tip of his dick against your slick folds. “Let me know if I hurt you,” he said, giving you a serious look. You nodded to show you understood. Changkyun slowly pushed past your lips, gliding into your wet pussy rather easily.

Or so you thought.

Once the head of his dick was inside you, he started to push further, a slight sting greeting your senses and you hissed. Changkyun stopped immediately, searching your face. “(Y/N)?” he asked. You nodded. “I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Please keep going,” you added.

Changkyun nodded and returned his attention to his length, slowly disappearing inside you. Little by little he slid in until he was fully buried inside. The throb of his member inside you made up for the feeling of emptiness earlier. Changkyun waited as your body adjust to him, feeling your walls contract around him occasionally. Finally you gave him the go ahead to move.

He held your hips in place as he slowly slid out of you until just the tip was inside before slowly pushing back in, drawing out his thrusts in an agonizing pace. “Stop teasing me,” you said after a few moments of this, causing Changkyun to laugh softly.

His grip tightened as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you at a faster speed. You moaned at the feeling of being filled, the earlier sting now replaced with a dull ache. You couldn’t be happier.

Changkyun, on the other hand was elated. He reveled in the feeling of your warm walls tightening around him as he thrust into you, a soft moan, falling past his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. It was undeniably the best feeling he’d ever experienced and being that it was you made it all the more special for him.

Your moans grew in pitch as he continued thrusting into you, the head of his cock hitting at rigid spot he’d felt earlier while fingering you. It seemed like that was your sweet spot and now that he found it, Changkyun was taking full advantage of it. He aimed for it, slamming into you harder, faster, and deeper in an effort to hit that spot, repeatedly. He wanted you to scream his name.

He wanted the whole building to know that he was the one fucking you so good. Not him.

Feeling his own orgasm drawing nearer, he focused on making you come again, his hand slid up your stomach, ghosting over your breast until it reached your neck. He softly wrapped his fingers around your throat, enjoying the way you clenched around him.

He remembered what he’d read about choking, taking care not to press against the front of your throat, only squeezing the sides, restricting the blood flow to your brain. You were still able to breathe but you head started to swim from the lack of blood to your brain, You let out a deep moan, your walls clenching around Changkyun tightly as he thrust into you, deeper than you thought possible.

He loosened his grip, allowing blood to flow once more.That didn’t stop his hips from snapping against yours though. Your entire body was hot, as if you had a fever but you knew you didn’t. You were close now. “I’m close,” you whispered. Changkyun moved his hand from your throat, sliding down your body until he pressed his thumb against your clit, massaging in time with his thrusts.

“Are you going to be a good girl,” he started, watching your face as your body started to shake, particularly your legs. “And come for me?” he added. You nodded, whimpering out a “yes.” Changkyun took this opportunity to push you just a bit further. “Yes, what?” he asked in a husky voice, his own orgasm within his reach.

You looked up at him, your face flushed, looking fucked out. You were a sight to behold. “Yes, daddy,” you breathed and that was all Changkyun needed to send you over the edge. Your second orgasm hit you like a wave, washing over you as you came on his dick with a cry of his name. Changkyun helped you ride out your high by chasing his own. He pounded into you, holding your hips against the mattress.

Not long after your second orgasm, you had your third as Changkyun was going for his. You came a third time with a whimper, begging him to stop. “It’s too much,” you panted, your body shuddering from the sensitivity of being overstimulated. 

“I’m almost there,” Changkyun whispered in your ear. 

He made good on his promise, and after a few more thrusts, he came with a groan, releasing into the condom he’d put on earlier. After a few shallow thrusts, he stilled, buried inside you as he panted to catch his breath.

After a few more minutes, he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back beside you, removing the condom and tying it off to toss in the trash can.

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments before he spoke. “That was incredible,” he said and you giggled, a blush forming on your face. You looked over to find him staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah,” you agreed. “It was.”

Changkyun turned his head to look at you. “I guess this means that you and Kihyun are--” he started.

“We were never a thing, Kyun. Honestly. We flirted a little but that was the extent of it. We never even kissed or held hands. He’s literally just a friend,” you said sitting up and looking at your best friend.

“I never wanted him, Kyun,” you added. “I wanted you. From the beginning, I always wanted you.”

Changkyun sat up, studying you with excited eyes. “I guess you can have me,” he said with a lopsided grin.

[alias-b]

sins of my youth. 002

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: Hello all~ Down the rabbit hole. TW: Teenagers can be the worst. Bullying. Fatphobia. Slut shaming. Cruel boys being cruel boys.

Chapter 2: A Million Dead Stars

   All Evie had to do was wait patiently. For Heather to pop out back and for Billy to swoop in and make his bold move.

   The goofy grin Heather walked back in with did not disappoint. Not at all.

   “Hey, you.” Curls bounced when Evie cocked her head and Heather plopped down with a drink. They tapped red plastic cups.

   “So, I just had an...amazing conversation.”

   “Yeah...?" Evie sang softer. "Pray tell."

   “Just...wow. Billy Hargrove. Him too, huh?”

   “We knew it would happen. He was being way too cool around us at lunch when the guy has been nothing but shitty toward me since moving here. He gave me a ride home, it was obvious. And so…?”

   “Where to start?” Heather put her arm up on the couch and took a long drink, laughing. Pretty in pink girl. “First he brought up Jane Austen. Said they were studying it in English which was a total bluff.”

   “We’re not.” Evie confirmed. “He’s in my second period.”

   "You gave up choir for that specific period with Bowers." Heather recalled more so to herself.

   "No, I just," Evie scrambled, "I just didn't want to do choir anymore. The teacher played favorites. Got sick of it."

   Another longer drink and she went on.

   "So, continue..."

   “He brought up Pride and Prejudice. Which, okay, but Emma is way better.”

   “You’re wrong, but I still love you.” Evie curled up to face her friend. Heather laughed and took her hand, leaned her head on the couch to gather herself in a fit of giggles. 

   “He said Mr. Dancy.”

   “No?” Evie died there. "And I hoped he might learn something."

   “Yes!” Heather smacked at her. Music pumped behind them. Teens roaming and making a mess of the nice mansion. "I felt bad because...I snorted about it. In his face."

   “You know, I’ll give Billy a point. Go on.”

   “Museums. Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, I love you...but I’d soon jump into a pit of alligators before going to a museum for a date. Bowling or mini golf please.” Heather was chuckling. “Ballpark hot dogs are way better than cheeseburgers. Popcorn over cheese fries and a damn milkshake? Slushies or nothing. I’m lactose intolerant. He was trying to bore me to death or poison me, Eve.”

   Evie broke to laugh again, barely able to speak.

   “I know! That’s why I suggested all of that.”

   “You bitch.” Heather was giggling still into her shoulder. Hands clasped. They broke to drink. “Oh! And campy action adventure movies or rom-coms only for Heather Holloway. I don’t get why you even go for horror, you wouldn’t hurt a fly and you squirm.”

   “He bombed.” Evie covered her eyes, wiped a tear aside. “I almost pity him.”

   “What’s funny is you like all that stuff. I’m not sure if he was faking it well, but he seemed kinda into most of it.”

   “I’ve been running out of ideas when your followers scramble. Sue me, Heath.” Evie pushed up. “I definitely need another drink.”

   “Fine, fine. Hey,” Heather laced their pinkies together, “teen boys are the worst. Thanks for bouncing another off me. Billy’s cute and all, but hell, I have too much on my plate for a boy right now.”

   “Got that right.” Evie weaved between dancing crowds to the punch bowl. Passed some guy puking into a vase and another group cheering on an arm wrestling match. Spooned herself a full cup. Was mid gulp when she turned to a pair of scathing blue eyes. Oh, Billy.

   “You fucking-”

   “I’m going to stop you right there, Hargrove, and walk that a-way.” She gulped again and passed him.

   “You think that shit’s funny?” Billy had a fistful of her jacket collar. Snarling like a mad dog. "She laughed at me."

   The humiliation of it seemed to make Billy the angriest.

   Evie felt that resonate bitterly because he sounded wounded and oblivious to what life threw her way.

   “Funny? Only after the first ten boys.” She shrugged. “Now it’s just sad. I’m not stupid.”

   “I’d say jerking me around is pretty stupid.” Billy was clearly smashed. Smelling of beer and weed. Eyes red to hell. “Maybe you’re so fucking single and miserable, you make sure your friend stays that way too, huh.”

   Billy knew a nerve was plucked at that by the way she stilled to go colder. Brown eyes molten at him.

   “You don’t know me. You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? I think we both know which one of us is miserable. Go show off for the school all you want, you don't fool everyone with those pretty blue eyes.” Evie shoved off him. Wondered if she caught that same frayed nerve.

   "Hey, we got a problem here?" A Hawkins football player towered. Couple of his buddies from other schools that weren't Ridgemont made a barricade between Billy and Evie.

   "I'm talking to Fenny, dickweed. You mind?" Billy spat. Evie huffed and rolled her eyes.

   "You're talking to the girl who kicked Brock Tannen's ass. Show some respect." Another meathead joined in. Evie hid amusement because this was an odd change over the year.

   "Guys, stand down, you really don't have to do this for me." It was...weird. Frankly, Billy looked like he was about to take on all of them.

   The boy in front gave Billy's shoulder a comical brush and they went off like a herd of happy buffalo.

   "The fuck, are you teen royalty somehow?" Hargrove made a face at her tired expression.

   "No, just some lucky idol they keep around. I still get stepped on in the hallway and I pass everyone's love notes for them." Evie sipped. "I don't care that you like Heather, I care that you pretended to be something close to kind with me to get at her."

   "Don't worry, I'm not interesting in being kind to you again." It came out nastier than he meant it too. Alcohol did that to his old man as well. Disgust welled and Billy had nowhere to put it so it flowed out. "No one here gives a shit about what you have to say, Fenny. Don't count on them trying either just because you're some freak they keep around for one sick story. They're all gonna laugh at you."

   Evie blinked a few times. Saw Billy's shoulders sink while they stared into each other, both searching long and hard. Finished her drink in one swig and tossed the cup at his shoes.

   “You fucking insecure asshole, check a mirror in five years and let me know if you like what you see. Not like you even do now, I bet, so enjoy denial. And stay away from me, Hargrove.” She went down the hallway beyond a spiral staircase and almost ran into a huge chest. As if this night couldn't get any worse.

   Fuck.

   Brock Tannen. Poster boy of rich asshole quarterback from their main rival school. Chestnut hair and chiseled good looks covered evil.

   “Fat Fenny. Oh, sorry. Old habit. Evie. Missed you around these parts.” He nursed a can of beer and leaned into the wall. “Go psycho on anyone lately?”

   “The year isn’t over.” She moved to pass him.

   “Look.” He jolted in front of her. “Admittedly, I was a real shithead. I know that now. My folks even got someone for me to talk to. I'm working through all my shit. But, I was an ass to you.”

   “We knew this.” Evie tried to go the other way, but his shoulder blocked her. She caught sight of his chain. A silver playboy bunny charm he loved to show off.

   “Listen, the year is almost up. I want you to know I don’t hold it against you. You went through some shit at home too. Truce?” No response. A beat before his chin lifted. “You never went crying to your slut mother about me. My dad said she sucks the mailman off.”

   "Don't say shit about my mother." Evie was on her toes. Hands clenching.

   "Didn't cry to daddy either, oh...my bad. You can't." Brock's laughter rang sirens around her head. He was begging her to go off again. "Why didn't you tell mommy about me? We almost had fun."

   “You didn’t get far with me if that’s what you mean, you think I’d give you my tears? Just embarrassed that you bat at fat chicks and get turned down. Eat shit, Tannen.” She got around him, staggered away.

   “Maybe I’ll convince you. I just want to be friends. It’s going to be a new year soon.” His voice lingered along the hallways. "Just messing with you cause I like you is all." More chuckles followed.

   Guys like Tannen secretly wanted her. Unobtainable and strange girls who didn’t conform to stupid high school stereotypes, it really pissed people off. Exotic, which was truly the worst word. Evie was easy to fetishize. 

   Billy got over Heather because Evie passed him moments later with his tongue down some Ridgemont girl’s throat.

   The boy was all mouth and hands. Sucked face like a fucking giant squid attacking a ship at sea.

   "Ick. Fucking Cthulhu." She got away from that, drank more to forget.

   Heather pulled her friend into the dancing. Lights blasting all directions. Music pulsed. Couple more drinks and they were stumbling to Heather’s place. Sneaking up the stairs to fall into a queen sized bed.

   “Can’t believe we didn’t wake my parents.” Heather rolled to her front, smudged the pillow with makeup. Evie was on her side snickering. “Hey, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

   “Nothing is wrong.” Brown eyes blinked. Heather nuzzled her pillow and breathed even, searching.

   “You changed last year. After, what happened at home… I know you miss your dad.” Delicate fingertips ran over Evie's arm. Slipped away.

   “He left.”

   Evie remembered coming home from school. He was just gone. Clothes and all. Mona crying at the table. Pictures down. Like he never existed.

   And her mother never really explained why. Just said they had problems and her dad wanted to be with someone else. He never called. Mona cried that day and hasn’t cried since. Evie couldn’t even remember the last thing she said to him. 

   People vanish. They have that power.

   “After...what happened with Tannen. You got all distant with me. I just worry about you a lot.” Heather’s fingers curled into Evie’s sleeve. “Kids are cruel, I don’t understand why. Why they're so mean...”

   “Some people don’t know where to put it when they hate themselves.”

   “I don't think I hate myself. Sometimes I hate that myself isn't enough, you know? Enough to please my parents all the time and enough to help other people out."

   "You're more than enough for me, Heather." Evie heard a sniffle.

   "D-Do you hate yourself?” An airy tone slurred.

   “I don’t know.” Evie sighed. “I’m fine, Heath, I’m happy. I dealt with it.”

   “Happy or pretending to be?” Heather mused, pulling at her hair scrunchie to relieve brown locks. “I just don’t see you a lot, like you’re always with someone else. You never wanted to hang out over the summer.”

   “I’m just busy with stuff, it’s nothing.” Evie peered at the walls plastered in their friendship. Felt every smiling version of herself in those old photographs wince at her lies. Stars exploding in total silence.

   “You’re going to leave Hawkins and sing your songs for people on a stage. You’re going to be world famous and I’ll get to point and say, that’s my best friend.” Heather grinned. “Keep breaking that shell. I can help you.”

   “I’ll try.” Evie scoffed. “You’re so drunk.”

   “I am…” Heather hummed. “Just talk to me, okay? I want you to be so happy again. Like we used to be when we’d go to the park. Play on swing sets.”

   “I won’t shut you out.” She replied as Heather settled, started to snore. “Goodnight, Heath.”

   “M’night.”

** ** **

   Billy was still raging into that night. Stumbled out of a bedroom pulling his tee back on, rooting around for his jacket. Most kids were starting to pass out on floors and couches.

   “Hey, this belong to you?” Brock plucked up leather so Billy snatched it. “Good to see you, Hargrove. You know, they say Hawkins would have finished out the basketball season with the title if you stayed on the team.”

   “They played favorites. Got sick of it.” Billy passed him, lightning a cigarette.

   “Come outside, sit with the guys.” Brock cocked his head, square jaw setting when he smiled.

   “Hey, B.” Tommy was stoned out of his mind. Looked at Billy like he was trying to find him in a haystack. Not with Carol so they must have had some fight. 

   Billy eyed the clear covered pool. Lights played up to touch his face before he plopped into a metal chair. Boys from Hawkins and other schools gathered around a glass table, drinking and shooting the shit. A joint was passed. Mostly rich, sporty types.

   “Hargrove. Hear you’re the Hawkins Keg King. What the hell happened with Harrington?” Brock faked interest, hands clasped.

   “Crashed and burned, man.” Tommy chortled, smacking Billy’s arm.

   “Who?” Just play dumb.

   “Don’t play coy, man, we all know you beat the shit out of him. Knocked the pretty boy down a few pegs.” Brock only grinned there. “So, you’re in the circle now.”

   “Oooh, do I get a medal?” Billy flicked his smoke aside and swiped Tommy’s beer to drink.

   “I like this guy, Hagan.” 

   “We can trust him.” Tommy winked, sitting back.

   “You’re not going to hunt me for sport, are you?” Billy inhaled sharper, unworried. Laughter erupted.

   “It’s funny you say that,” Brock took the floor, “because we are going to let you in on the deepest secret between the high schools. Something that brings all the boys together. Hawkins. Ridgemont. Hill Valley. Bates. We have this little tradition we do between Homecoming and Prom.”

   “Skirt Safari.” Brock’s right hand man chuckled, sucking the joint down. Few boys echoed it with laughter.

   “The hell is that?” Billy drank, shaking his hair out.

   “Some of us guys throw this big dance party. Rent out a nice place in town, pour some good money into a pool.” Brock shrugged. “You take a girl and we vote.”

   “Vote?” Billy puffed. More cruel smiles.

   “Yeah, on which girl is the ugliest beast.” Hyena cackling followed. Billy just stared with his brow raised.

   “Ah...What the fuck is this? Are you joking?”

   “Open season, man.” Another boy chimed in.

   “Walk with me, Hargrove, you have something special about you.” Brock got up, swiped the joint to finish it. Billy looked irritated and followed. Fresh air cleared his head. Behind them, teens chattered. “I think you’ll fit right in here. You live on Cherry Lane, right?”

   “What’s it to you?” Billy chucked the beer aside.

   “Next to that Fenny girl. Kinda cute in her new little outfits if you like something extra to grab onto.” Brock shrugged. Turned from Billy to eye the sky clearing up.

   “Didn’t she beat your ass last year?” A sly grin crossed.

   “Ah, you heard. Rumors have been exaggerated. Just like you and Harrington I’m sure. Getting booted from the team over a tiff.”

   “I left on my own, fuck them.”

   “Fenny had a thing for me and I said no because I was with someone, so she got emotional. Girls are like that. They get attached and upset when we don't give them what they need.” Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets. “She’s untouched, you know, so I heard. Flaunting her shit now and not letting us grab the goods. Asking for it man, but too afraid to follow through. I hate that teasing shit. They say the bookworms are wild in the sack. Bet you that musical girl can sing too.”

   “You obsessed with her now and her little outfits?” That earned Billy a brief heated expression. The boy was more observant than he was given credit for.

   “I just wanted to raise a challenge for you. Get Fenny to go to Skirt Safari as your date. New Years Eve, we’ll give you the address. Kiss her before the clock strikes twelve. She won’t earn you the win, but I’ll bet you money that you can’t get the famous ice queen to go.”

   “Man, this is so fucking stupid.” Billy clearly didn’t fit with this crowd of uppity shits. Heels spun to go.

   “Is three hundred dollars stupid?” Brock watched Billy skid. Blue eyes shifting to see him again. “Ah, I have your attention.”

   “Cash?” Billy could use it. Three hundred would go far for him. Brock Tannen knew that immediately about him.

   “I can show it to you if you like.” Brock displayed his teeth, almost glowing and sharp. “Show us that Hargrove charm and break the unbreakable. If you're the Keg King. Prove it. Let us see you in action.”

   “I take her to the shitty party and you give me three hundred bucks?" Billy asked carefully, eyes darting. "She doesn't have to find out about this vote shit you guys do?”

   “No, not a word from us. I'll even pay your end of the pool as a token. Just an innocent kiss before the ball drops. You don't have to screw her, unless she's your thing. Easy enough?” Brock held out his hand. Billy eyed the campy bunny chain around Tannen’s neck, huffed out his nose.

   Took the offer with a hard expression.

   “Deal.”

** ** **

   Evie rubbed her eyes the next morning and said bye to Heather, raking fingers through curls as she was dropped off. Jacket pulled close while she fumbled for keys and Heather drove off.

   Not even a second after, a blue Camaro was pulling up next door. 

   It was annoying how great Billy looked even with a hangover after a hard night of partying. He stunk of beer and smoke and his hair was ratted, but glowy as always. Evie groaned when he spotted her and got the key in the door.

   “Hey, Evie.” Was that her name he just used? “Hey, wait up.” Boots clicked to hurry toward her house. A stronger hand yanked the front door closed and Billy held his ground there. "Wait a second, I'm trying to talk to you."

   “Aren’t we both too hungover for this?” Already on the defensive. Makeup smeared around her eyes. She turned, applying some chapstick and sighed out. "What?"

   “Look.” Billy pushed his hands into his back pockets, eyes flicking away and back. “It was a dick move. The whole Heather thing.”

   “Yeah.” She waited for him to go on.

   “And I’m…” Sorry? “It was shitty.” He craned down toward her. "The stuff I said, I was fucking wasted."

   "And you're..." She tried to spell the word out with her eyes. Billy blinked innocently.

   "An asshole."

   Evie flattened.

   "Yes, but not what I was...ah, look, it doesn't matter. I was drunk and I jabbed too. And I am...sorry." A shrug before she tried the door again.

   Billy pulled it shut once more like this was a game, earning a sigh of irritation.

   "I'm still talking at you. I was...I am...a shithead." He couldn't wrap his squid tongue around a fucking apology. Christ.

   Evie looked expectantly, leaning in as if more should come.

   Billy sucked at this so he decided to jump right in.

   “I wanted to make it up to you. There’s this dance up in the city. Real bar. Real drinks. New Years Eve bash. Go with me.” It sounded like an order.

   “Go with you?” She blinked in shock. Grew pointed. “Ah, no, Billy.” Evie got her front door open again and pushed by him. Wondered if he was used to rejection in any form. So, she pushed pride aside. “But, Heather thinks you’re cute okay. Just ask her. It’s fine.”

   She got around the door and hid half behind it. Billy’s hand went flat to stop it from shutting.

   “I don’t want to ask Heather, I’m asking you.” He shrugged with big eyes. Bet ladies fell for it. Evie searched him, beyond confused. She hated confusion. It was too much. “You’re single, it’s this or some lame ass high school party.”

   He noted she opened her mouth and decided not to protest the single part. The hesitation was odd.

   "I...I happen to like lame ass high school parties." She stammered out.

   "Oh, sure." He winked.

   "Y-Yeah, I just love them actually because kids our age are very stupid. It's better than public television."

   "Right. Right." He sounded not convinced.

   "And, you're Billy Hargrove so any girl will jump at the chance, just ask-"

   “I’m asking you, Angel. Deal with it.” He lowered his tone and got closer. Flashed a darling smile then bit his lip. Slid that tongue over it. "Don't make me beg. You know I will."

   “You...I… Look, I’m...flattered but, I can’t. I, uh, have a thing.” Her voice trailed off. “Sorry.” The door shut.

   Billy gave this growl low in his throat. 

   “We have time, Fenny, I’m fine asking again.” His voice picked up. Silence. "All you gotta do is nod that pretty head of yours."

   Billy knew she heard it. He turned and dropped the grin when he spotted Max there on the sidewalk, skateboard in hand. Watching.

   "Are you asking Evie out?" She narrowed on him.

   "Mind your fucking business, shitbird." Billy stepped off the porch. "She's going to a party with me."

   "Sounded like she just said no to you."

   Billy swerved to get angry. Remembered a nail bat crashing between his legs. Shut his mouth.

   "Whatever." A puff.

   "She's nice," Max trailed after him, "you should, you know...ask her to something if you... She's cool. Cooler than you."

   He slowed, eyebrow raising.

   "Doesn't matter."

   "It's Saturday." Max explained, red hair catching the sunlight to flame up.

   "I know what day it is, Max, leave me alone." Billy was going up toward their house.

   "She probably said no because you stink so bad."

   "What the fuck?" He wheeled around again, chest puffing.

   Max smirked at him and Billy found himself matching it. Bold little shit.

   "I know what I said. And it's Saturday, that means she'll probably be helping her mom at that salon later. You should shower and show up. Girls like spontaneous stuff, it's thoughtful and you suck at that."

   Billy scrunched at her.

   "Since when do you care about...?"

   "About what?" She shuffled there on the grass. Peered at Neil's car in the driveway. "We're family now whether we like it or not. Which means I'm stuck looking out for you. Right, Billy?" Max dropped her skateboard, popping it up with one foot. "I like Evie and I don't want my brother being a jerk to her. Or anyone."

   Billy scoffed, near amused.

   "Right." He grumbled. Went up and paused to turn once more. "Max."

   "Yeah?" She readied to ride off.

   "Watch the board around my damn car, will you?" Billy heard her snort. "I got shit to do now, stay out of the way."

   "Take a shower and show up. Try asking instead of telling. See what happens." Max rode off with a clatter of wheels on concrete. He only shook his head again. Smiled to himself without thinking before he went in.

   Billy decided to take the advise on all accounts. She'd go with him.

   Certainty crept the more he looked at himself in the mirror and applied his aftershave. Maybe he forced the feeling so often, it was second nature. Fuck, looking at his reflection was never this difficult. Evie's words rang harder this morning.

   He didn't blame her for once.

   All these false fronts Billy showed the world. Old photographs flashing like a million dead stars. That was all we ever saw of them. Somewhere else, Evie heard those same stars dying too. Decayed and twinkling too pretty even still. It sounded almost like a cruel fate.

   A tongue swept over his lips before he tried something new. Eyes averting to speak quietly like someone might hear. Fingers twisting the silver ring about his middle finger.

   "Sorry."

   He resumed fixing his curls. Polished up that Hargrove charm until it shined bright.

   What Evangeline Fenny didn't know couldn't possibly hurt her, Billy reasoned.

   Right?

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, chat with me if you have time! Tried to push another chp out quick. Imma pass out now XOXO TAGGED: @80sbxtch​ @nottherightseason​ @orxhidshavana​  

[drawlfoy]

2019 Draco x Reader Secret Santa Gift Exchange - - Inevitable

masterlist request guidelines i know, i know...it’s been a bit. this is for @eltanin-malfoy​ ‘s secret santa gift exchange.

pairing: draco x reader

requested: kind of! this is part of the xmas gift exchange :)) also i hate to say this but i kind of deviated from the request...i wanted to make it a bit longer and didn’t like how it specified how they were the only two students left at hogwarts...wanted to mix it up some :)))))))))

summary: ravenclaw y/n is remaining at hogwarts over the holidays to study for N.E.W.T.S while her family is away on business. despite never really having been close to him before, y/n begins to form an unlikely connection.

warnings: just swearing and underage drinking and a mention of a sexual relationship between snape and a student (don’t worry...NOT the central focus and just an anecdote provided).  

a/n: damn....it’s really been like....almost two months. i’ve been logging on and off occasionally to see what’s been going on. i know that there were a lot of requests over the summer that kind of sunk that i never got to, and to that i’m very sorry. maybe one day i’ll be able to get back to them (i’m thinking of doing so over the next summer!!). i’m so so so thankful for the fact that you guys are still here, reading my content and enjoying draco malfoy as much as i am. i love this community and feel very blessed to be a part of it.

music recs: any christmas music!!

word count: 3,859

“And you’re sure that you’re alright with staying behind?” 

Y/N sighed, twisted her hair into a knot behind her neck in a nervous gesture. “Yes, Mum. It’s really okay. I hope you and Dad have a good time in Paris.”

“You know we won’t,” her mother said. “I can’t believe we have to work through the holidays.”

“I’m sorry Mum.” Y/N took a glance out the window, watching the rest of her friends leave the grounds with the intention of catching the train back to London. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I’m one of the only students staying here this winter. I’ll just be working too.”

“Be sure to write often.” There was a brief pause before Y/N could hear some commotion in the background, and her mother’s face, which had previously been gazing at her from the common room coals turned. “I’ve got to go, dearie. Love you!”

With that, the fire was extinguished, and Y/N was left to sit alone in the empty Ravenclaw common room. It was rather dark now that the sun was hanging lower in the sky, and every sound she made echoed. She had never noticed just how much space her housemates took up until they had gone home.

Once Y/N had gotten over her miniature pity party, she gathered up her robes and headed down to the dining hall. There was one particular Slytherin girl, Daphne, who she knew was staying behind for sure. There was something about the Slytherin house staying over the holiday break to study for N.E.W.T.S...or perhaps all their parents had gotten sick of them and their snooty attitudes by this point.

Y/N snorted ungraciously at this notion as she entered the dining hall, pushing open the two large doors. The eerie hum of quiet chatter hit her ears instead of the familiar roar of 4 houses, and her footsteps echoed--actually echoed--as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She quickly changed her mind when she saw Daphne waving at her from the sparsely populated Slytherin table. 

“Over here, Y/L/N,” she called, shoving someone who was sitting next to her to the side. Y/N couldn’t get a good look at who it was, but the long, flowing dark locks suggested that it was Pansy. “Move, Pans. We have special company.”

Y/N gratefully accepted the offer, ditching her completely empty table and sliding in next to her Potions partner.

“Thanks, Greengrass.” Y/N never understood the Slytherin obsession with calling acquaintances by their last name, but on Merlin was she going to follow that rule whilst she was the only friend she had. 

“Of course,” Daphne responded, daintily picking at the food on her plate while Y/N grabbed a roll and spooned stew into her bowl. “Just don’t embarrass us too much, you know. Blue and green just don’t really...vibe well. We’ll have to get you a Slytherin tie for the holidays if you don’t want to be harassed in the common room.”

“In the...what?” 

“In the common room,” Pansy said, barely looking up from her own plate. “You don’t seriously think we’re going to leave you to go up to an empty dorm every night, right?”

“Does...that....huh?” Y/N knew that her mouth was gaped unceremoniously open, but she didn’t know how else to act. The Slytherins were...inviting her to live with them?

“Yeah, Pans and I have an extra bed now that Millicent is off in Peru on holiday,” Daphne said nonchalantly. 

“Does that mean I get to call you Daphne now, or...” 

She laughed, her perfectly straight white teeth glinting in the light. “If it makes you happy. Only me though. Or Pansy. Anyone else will have a bit of an attitude.”

Y/N smiled nervously, pushing her stew around with a spoon. “I really wasn’t expecting this, Thanks for not making me spend the holidays completely alone.”

“Honestly,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t get why people give Slytherins such a selfish rap. Look at how empathetic and caring we are.”

Y/N laughed, casting her eyes up from her food and taking in the table. The 6th year Slytherins were well-represented, with Zabini, Nott, and....Malfoy? She frowned at him. Malfoy had blabbed the entire year to all of his croonies about how well-regarded he was in family and how he was such an integral part of his father’s work. It was surprising to see him at Hogwarts and not home, where he would’ve been much more useful to his family. The extra line in his scowl suggested to Y/N that he was well aware of the fact and was staying against his will. Then again, she could’ve been wrong. She’d had some classes with him, but they’d never personally spoken, but it didn’t take much for her to draw the conclusion that he was a spoiled prat.

She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t think to pull her eyes away when Malfoy turned away from his conversation with Zabini, his head tilting in her direction. His grey eyes snapped up from the table to meet hers, and she jerked away the moment they made contact. Y/N stared at the table as nonchalantly as she could, counting 7 cracks in the wood before she felt confident enough to peek back up again. Malfoy was turned back around, talking a bit more animatedly to his friends. 

That was weird she thought, putting her energy back into her stew. I’m never looking that direction again.

<^>

The Slytherin bunk beds felt slightly more comfortable than the Ravenclaw ones. “Daddy’s money always makes for a thicker cushion,” Pansy said to this observation as she rifled through her drawers, trying to find a few acceptable pieces for Y/N to borrow. “I don’t have an extra jumper, but I’ll be right back. I know someone who does.”

“Isn’t this kind of extra?” Y/N asked Daphne as Pansy dashed off through the open dorm door. “I’ll just avoid wearing blue stuff. I swear.”

She laughed at this, tossing an extra Slytherin tie on Y/N’s bed. “It’s weird. I think it’s kind of a Slytherin thing. It’s fun to indoctrinate you or something like that.”

“Kind of kinky.”

The two snickered as Y/N continued to unpack her things into Millicent’s now empty drawer, shoving her sweats and unmarked sweaters to fit as much as she could. 

“I wouldn’t go that far, but if it floats your boat.”

“You’re gonna love me for this,” a prim voice sang from the doorway. Y/N turned to see Pansy holding a bundle of clothes. “Full set of Slytherin robes. I say that you try and convince everyone that you’ve been in this house the whole time.”

Y/N cackled at this. “I feel like I’m rooming with absolute lunatics.”

“Because you are, darling.” Pansy flounced forward, pinching Y/N’s cheek. “Anyways. I say you get changed into something a little less...blue...and we go to the first Christmas party of the year. I hear it starts at 11.”

With that, the girls descended into a flurry of motion. Y/N slipped into one of Daphne’s deep emerald dresses, which felt more expensive than her family’s home, and prayed that it would stay intact for the rest of the night. She was never a wild partier, but she would never forgive herself if a rogue glass of mulled firewhiskey found its way onto the expensive velvet fabric. It felt uncomfortably tight and revealing, so she snatched the first Slytherin article of clothing she could find--what appeared to be a black cape with a snake emblem on it--and draped it over her shoulders.

“Let’s talk about girl things,” Pansy announced as she took out her makeup bag and sat herself in front of the mirror. Daphne smiled in exasperation. “I know all about Daphne’s vast experiences with Blaise, but I know nothing about you, Y/N. Got any horrid men messing up your educational experience?”

Y/N laughed as she finished trying to spell her hair smooth. “No. Not really. I wish. I was into this one guy in my Charms class this September, but he turned out to be a whole clown.”

“Oh, ick.” Pansy paused just long enough to make eye contact in the mirror and send her a disgusted expression. “I hate men. Except for mine, of course. “

“And that is...?” prodded Y/N.

“If I told you, it’d ruin all the fun,” Pansy teased. “He does look good in red, though. I’ll let you know that. Do with that information what you will.”

“A Gryffindor?! Aren’t you afraid that he’s gonna kill himself cliff-jumping over the holidays or something?”

“Oh, hush little Y/N. He’s here for a good time, not a long time.”

Daphne snorted from her corner of the room, sending Y/N a look that said “see what I have to deal with?”. 

11 came around sooner than expected. Y/N’s dress was feeling tighter with each breath she took, her anxiety brewing within her. Despite being on friendly terms with Daphne for a season, she had never been invited to a Slytherin party, but she had heard plenty of morning after stories that left her wondering what really went on. 

Now I’m going to find out she mused, running her fingerpads over her ring. 

“Are you going to just stand here or are you going to open the door, kiddo?” Pansy’s voice sounded behind her, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t be fucking rude, Pans,” Daphne chided. “This is a monumental moment for Ravenclawkind.”

<^> 

Y/N never thought that she’d see people getting absolutely trashed to Frank Sinatra’s christmas album, but her first Slytherin party shook this preconceived notion. The moment she stepped into the common room, Daphne pressed a hot goblet into her hand that was full of something that smelled suspiciously like fire. 

“It’s a Slytherin specialty,” she explained. “Firewhiskey, but with more fire.”

Whatever it was, it tasted good. Really, really good. If Y/N hadn’t been so nervous, she would’ve downed the goblet in one go, but she knew better and only took small sips. Daphne and Pansy were a little less conservative, pouring themselves a third go before she had even finished her first. 

“So proper,” Daphne managed to get out as she looked at Y/N, an amused expression on her face. “Come on and be festive.”

Y/N managed to hold off on heavy drinking and instead retired to a dark green leather armchair, choosing to people watch. The Slytherins were stumbling about in a fashion that was very unSlytherin-esque but oddly charming. Pansy was chatting up Nott and Malfoy, and when she saw Y/N sitting alone, she grabbed the two boys by the tie and dragged them over. 

Malfoy didn’t look nearly as hammered as his companions as he stared daggers at Pansy’s hand, clutched at the emerald fabric encircling his neck. They were standing in front of her in moments with Pansy smiling goofily. 

“Y/N, doll,” she began, dropping the ties and reaching out to grab Y/N’s hands. “Have you met my friends? Draco and Theo?”

“Why are you wearing my cape?” Draco’s voice cut past Pansy’s easily with his posh accent. 

“Your...what? Are you talking to me?” Y/N asked, her mind clouded with confusion.

“Er, yeah,” Malfoy said, motioning towards the cloak settled over her shoulders. “That’s mine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Y/N shifted awkwardly, working it off her shoulders and holding it out to him. “You can have it back, if you want. Pansy just said that I could borrow it.”

Malfoy stared at her, his silver eyes flickering in the dim light. He seemed very out of place--the Malfoy energy didn’t exactly match with the classic Christmas love songs that were echoing through the room.His pale hair reflected the festive green lights strung up around the dungeon ceiling and walls, making it look much colder than she thought it normally did. 

It took him clearing his throat for her to realize that she’d been staring again and that no, he hadn’t reached out his arm to take the cape.

“It’s yours now,” he said stiffly. 

“Ooooookaaaaay,” Pansy sang, slipping her arm through Nott’s and shoving Malfoy towards the couch. “Looks like you two need to talk this out! I’ll be going!”

With that, she darted off, leaving a very awkward looking Malfoy standing substantially closer to her.

“You can sit down if you want,” Y/N said, a wave a boldness washing over her. So what, he was cute, and there was nothing stopping her from talking to him now. “I don’t bite.”

He seemed receptive to this, settling down onto the couch and leaving a healthy distance between them. “Your name is Y/N, right?” 

She was surprised by this. There was no point in time where she was referred to anything but Y/LN in front of him, but it appeared as if he somehow knew her first name anyways. “And you’re Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to call you Draco or Malfoy?” she pushed, curling her legs up under her and turning to look at him better. Now that he was just about a foot away from her, she could see that his hair was slightly ruffled. 

“Whichever you fancy,” he answered. 

“Do we have Potions together?” 

Before Draco could fully answer, there was an explosion of motion behind them and an infectious spread of laughter.

“Mistletoe!” Pansy gleefully shrieked from somewhere out of Y/N’s line of sight as a floating patch of greenery made its way through the common room air.

“The fuck is that?” Y/N cast a questioning look at Draco. “What’s the point of mistletoe if it doesn’t stay still?”

“It’ll stop in a moment. It goes to the pair with the most chemistry in the room.”

“That sounds kind of dangerous.”

“Oh, believe me.” Draco’s face broke into a rare smile, revealing dimples that Y/N had never seen before. “I heard that one time Snape walked in while that thing was floating about. It stopped over the heads of him and one of the 8th years. The cruelest thing is that it won’t leave the pair alone until they kiss.”

Y/N closed her gaping jaw and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish I could return to the point in my life where I didn’t know that information.”

He smiled a little wider, his eyes seeming to be a little warmer now. Their was a strange fluttering inside of Y/N’s stomach, but she chalked it up to the firewhiskey. The distance between them had shrunk significantly since they had first begun to talk, and now they were so close that Y/N could smell his cologne--a tasteful mix of pine and mint.

Her throat dried up as she saw Draco blink slowly, resting his chin in his hand and looking at her in a way that made her feel...not right. Wasn’t he supposed to be a prick? Her attention was caught by a flash of green leaves in her peripheral vision, speeding towards their direction.

“I should go,” she hastened, grabbing the cape and pulling it snug over her shoulders. His eyebrows raised the slightest bit in interest, but he didn’t seem to move at all. “I’ll....er....see you around, okay?”

With that, she booked it to her room.

<^>

“I’m never drinking again!” Pansy’s shrill voice awoke Y/N from a rather deep slumber. “I swear to Merlin, Daph! Never let me do that again!”

Y/N leaned over the side of the bunk, glaring down at the two girls. “Can you be a bit quieter? Some of us are trying to get some sleep here.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “And some of us are trying to get up in time to get a good study spot in the library. Care to join us, princess?”

While it pained Y/N to admit, Daphne was probably right--every single student staying at Hogwarts over the break was there with the purpose of studying for N.E.W.T.S, meaning that the library was going to be overflowing. A quick glance at the clock on the wall confirmed her suspicions--most spots were probably already taken at 11 in the morning, and they’d be lucky to even find a table open at this time.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N moaned, sliding down from the bunk to get dressed. They all readied quickly--after all, studying wasn’t the most glamorous event--and made their way down to the library.

“Damn, there’s only a few spots left open.” Daphne frowned as she surveyed the room. Sure enough, there were no empty tables, just scattered empty seats throughout the library. 

“Guess we’re splitting up then,” Pansy said. “We can all meet up in an hour for lunch. Until then, good luck! I have some Wide-eye potion if either of your hangovers get too bad.”

Y/N snorted at this, turning away to find her own spot. If she was lucky, there’d be an empty seat by the windows that overlooked the forest. It was snowing, and she wanted nothing more than to watch snow fall as she revised.

Thankfully, there was exactly one empty seat, but unthankfully, this seat was next to a certain someone.

“Hi Draco,” she greeted, immediately wishing that she had just kept her mouth shut. Her tone of voice was way too cringy. 

He looked up from his Charms essay, his face lighting up when he saw who it was. “Hello.”

“Do you mind if I sit here?” She motioned towards the empty chair, and he shook his head, even going as far as pulling out the chair for her. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded but turned his attention back to his essay, dipping his quill back into his inkwell and continuing to write. Y/N rested her chin in her hand as she watched the snow swirl outside the window and paint the trees white. 

After a bit, she unpacked her books and began to read up on outlawed hexes. Every once and a while, Draco’s elbow would bump her arm as he immersed himself in his essay. 

“Isn’t that my tie?” Draco asked, his voice breaking the silence. 

“What?” Y/N’s eyes cast down to the Slytherin tie she had haphazardly thrown on that morning and caught something she hadn’t noticed before--the Malfoy crest.

“Oh,” she said. “Pansy gave me a whole bundle of things. I’m assuming all of it was yours. I don’t plan on keeping this stuff, by the way. Once I go back to Ravenclaw, I’m never wearing green again.”

“Shh!” A random student looked up from their work to glare at Y/N. She whispered a quick apology before turning back to admire Draco’s amused expression.

“Those are fighting words,” he told her simply, quirking an eyebrow and tapping his lip with his quill like he was thinking.

“Can I see your quill?” she asked suddenly, holding her palm out. The feather was something she had never seen before--it shimmered with some kind of charm that projected silver light. Without a word in response, he passed it to her, his hand dragging across her palm for a second as he placed it in her hand. She shivered--his hand was surprisingly warm considering his fairly cool demeanor.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Very wintery.”

“That’s not a word,” he said matter-of-factly, but one glance at him was enough to tell that he wasn’t being serious. 

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N told him. “But you must know that.”

His face broke into another smile, lines forming around his silver eyes. “Insufferably wonderful.”

“Seriously, can you guys shut up?” the same Slytherin asked from the other end of the table. “Some of us are actually trying to work.”

“Yeah, take a walk if you guys can’t be quiet,” another Slytherin added. 

Draco sent them both a death glare that made them turn back around and get back to their work without another word of caution. 

“Maybe I should leave,” Y/N offered, motioning to the blizzard outside. “I like the snow anyways. You can come with me if you’d like.”

His dimples pressed into his cheeks again at this as he packed up his things, a bit haphazardly and carelessly. “I think a walk sounds great.”

The two made their way out of the library, passing by Pansy who sent them a curious look. The library doors were obnoxiously loud to open, and it took both of them throwing all of their weight into them to get out.

“I hear they’re harder to open the more students are inside,” said Y/N absentmindedly. 

“And where did you read that?”

“Hogwarts: a History, I think.”

“Of course.” Draco seemed amused at this--which was admittedly a great look on him. Today he had worn a white collared shirt, the collars barely peeking out of the dark green jumper he wore over it. That color always looked absolutely stunning next to his near-white hair...something made Y/N feel warm for noticing.

“So....er....” Y/N struggled to stay upright on a particularly slick patch of ice. Draco’s arm shot out to steady her. “Oh, er, thanks. Are you enjoying the holidays?”

His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Yes, I guess so. You?”

“They could be better.” One of his eyebrows arched. “Er, no, I mean, not because of you, because of all the studying I have to get done.”

“I almost forgot you were a Ravenclaw,” he teased. A few snowflakes had nestled themselves into his eyelashes, and he looked indescribable to Y/N. 

He cleared his throat, and Y/N stopped staring. 

They walked in silence around the grounds for a bit, and Y/N cursed herself for not wearing any gloves. The winter air swirled with snowflakes that stuck to her bare skin, and Y/N shivered a little more with every step she took. 

“D’you want my--”

Draco’s proposition was cut short by the sound of something whizzing through the air.

“How did that get out of the common room?” Draco said instead, motioning with his head to the flying patch of greenery that was coming their way.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s out now.”

The two waited awkwardly for a few seconds, and Y/N was sure that they were both praying that the mistletoe would change its course and veer back in the direction of the castle, but it didn’t. It made its way straight for them, hardly stopped at all through the battering of the blizzard.

It stopped only when it was directly above the two of them. When Y/N tried to lean away, it was like she hit a forcefield that forced her back in, even closer to Draco. He seemed concerned at this, running his fingers through his hair once and sighing.

“I guess this was inevitable,” he said, offering further explanation when he saw Y/N’s confused expression. “I saw it heading towards us last night. If we had gone to another Christmas party, I’m sure it would’ve found us anyways.”

“Maybe it’s better that it’s here than in public,” Y/N mused. Before she could add anything else, Draco took his gloves off and took her hands in his.

“Another reason why this was inevitable,” he began, dropping her right hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, “Was that I was planning on doing this anyways.”

final a/n: sorry i really really didn’t feel like writing a kiss scene and also i procrastinated and started this yesterday and that was NOT the move i’m so so sorry kings and queens and nonbinary royalty--i hope you can enjoy the lead-up and use your imagination to fill in the blanks that i have left (please please please don’t kill me). alright love u all and merry xmas. wonders of ohio is coming out soon and is in progress

[rivalsforlife]

oooo i'm sorry but one more scene for commentary if youre up to it: maya and phoenix talking in chapter 6?

Of course, no need to apologize!! Once more, keeping this under a “keep reading”:

Around noon, his apartment intercom buzzed. “Nick, it’s Maya! Let me up.”

Maya? What was she even doing here? Maya never visited him out of the blue anymore… Whatever. She’d probably think he was at his office. She’d go away soon.

There was another buzz. “Nick! I know you’re in there! I called your office, you know!”

Kids these days. Selling out their bosses that easily… Maybe he should cut Athena’s salary. Nah, he wasn’t Edgeworth. … Edgeworth.

“don’t think about Edgeworth don’t think about Edgeworth -- ah damn it”

“Nick! Hello! Nick!”

She had to give up eventually, right? Whatever she was here for, someone else could help her…

“Security’s coming after me, if they arrest me you’re gonna have to defend me, you know, do you want that? I’m not even gonna try to pay you for it since it’s gonna be your fault —”

Ugh.

Phoenix stumbled out of bed and buzzed her in. “Fine. Come up.”

“Thank you!” she chirped in a sing-songy voice. “Hey, you heard him, let me go…”

Maya’s Obnoxious Little Sister Energy is eternal. Her next strategy was to break from the guards and dash as far as she could go trying to break her way into Phoenix’s apartment which... wouldn’t have ended well haha.

Also! Like I mentioned in the previous ask, a lot of this fic was just Phoenix’s Relationship Issues, and the way I characterized him in this fic was a lot of... he needs to have people around or he kind of falls apart, and his history of having people around was that these people needed him in some way -- Maya after she was accused of murder and then hanging around for Mia’s sake, Trucy being abandoned and needing looking after, even Miles to an extent needing to be saved from his corrupt ways and the von Karma influence -- and now that they’re all growing up and don’t need him anymore he thinks they’re going to abandon him.

That’s a long-winded way of referring to that one sentence of “Whatever she was here for, someone else could help her”

Also... I don’t live in an apartment and haven’t visited many apartments? So I’m not totally sure how the whole buzzing someone in process works. no one’s called me out on it though so I guess I’m okay.

Phoenix sighed and wondered if he should make himself look presentable. There probably wasn’t enough time. Maya wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t changed his clothes for two days, right?

She probably would. But he couldn’t do anything about it, as just then there was a knock on the door. Figuring he should appease her so she wouldn’t give security anymore trouble, he reluctantly let her in.

Indeed, there was Maya, looking cheery as ever. “Hey, dude. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” said Phoenix, and in response to Maya’s raised eyebrow as she took in his appearance, “Just not feeling well. Why’re you here, Maya? I thought you were busy up at the village.”

passive-aggressive “oh aren’t you supposed to be busy?” from Phoenix here...

One of the other major changes I made to this fic in the editing process was cutting out a LOT of Maya content. I really love her and wanted her to be here more, but to properly go through the Phoenix Characterization Study I had to make it seem like she wasn’t around as much so that Phoenix would feel more lonely. again, sorry, Phoenix... but like originally she came down for the picnic in chapter 3 and was around at the beginning of chapter 4, so it would be SO WEIRD if she showed up in every single chapter except for chapter 5 and then Phoenix accuses her here of being too busy to hang out with him. She was there all the time! So I only had her show up for the wedding and added in a few more lines alluding to her not being here as much as she used to in trilogy days.

“I am,” she admitted, pushing her way into his apartment. “But your daughter called me yesterday morning and said that if you didn’t call, I should check in on you. So. Here I am. And I know you’re not just sick.”

Kids these days indeed! Like Phoenix didn’t feel bad enough, his own daughter had to go and parent him. “Look, Maya, everything’s fine. I’m sorry Trucy made you think something was wrong.”

One writing tip I got and I’ve been working on implementing is like... trying to have a general idea of what every character is up to when they’re not “on screen”, so to speak. Even then, what they’re thinking about when they’re not the POV focus. So basically after the call with Trucy just prior to this scene, she immediately decided to call Maya (because she could tell something was Off with her dad and Miles, given his reaction when she mentioned his name,) and then told her to check up on him because he really scared her during that phone call... though she wouldn’t admit it. She basically saw it as a hint of returning to a sort of... disbarment-era depression, which she didn’t want, so she wanted to make sure someone could check in on him as soon as he could since she couldn’t.

Also another small aspect of Phoenix characterization (that’s going to be like 99% of my commentary about this fic I’m sorry) is that the way he deals best with depression is like... being around people, and doing things with people. It’s obviously not a method that works for everyone, but it keeps him from dwelling on things and kind of gives him a purpose, helps him feel like he’s needed. Mostly got this headcanon from RFTA where he says he was unable to take on any cases when Maya was gone until Ema showed up... and then even at the beginning of 2-2 he does seem pretty down. Trucy kind of knows some of this since she was the main thing keeping him together during disbarment era, at least enough to know that when Phoenix is depressed he’ll do much better if he’s got someone he cares about around.

Anyways, Trucy probably told Maya just to call in, because she knows her aunt is busy and part of the reason Maya hasn’t been around much is because she’s stuck with all sorts of Master responsibilities at Kurain, but Maya herself wanted to come down and check on Phoenix in person because she knows how he can get and if it was enough to worry Trucy, then she was pretty worried too.

Maya planted her hands on her hips. “No way, mister. I did not take a two hour train ride down here for you to tell me everything’s fine. Do you know how difficult it was to get permission to leave?! I had to pull the old ‘I need to visit my boyfriend’ card for them to let me go!”

Phoenix groaned, despite himself. “Have they still not caught on about that?”

“Their desperation for an heir has blinded them to common sense. They made me drink some disgusting fertility tea before I left, so you really owe me one.” She lowered her hands and sighed. “Look, Nick, I know something’s up. So talk to me. Please.”

I took a few liberties to sprinkle in my Kurain headcanons in here... which I’ve rambled about more in depth elsewhere, so I won’t go into too much detail, but basically: hereditary spiritual power leads to a lot of pressure on people who have said hereditary spiritual power to reproduce so they can pass it on to the next generation. Particularly with Maya (and Pearls to some extent though I believe Maya would willingly take the heat on it) since the two of them are the only remaining spirit channelers of the Kurain technique. And since it took Maya a really long time to become the Master officially (I don’t buy the idea that she wasn’t skilled enough by the end of T&T, my headcanon is the Master training process involves two years in Khura’in but she put that off until Phoenix was in the clear regarding Kristoph stuff) they probably don’t want her leaving the village to “goof off” unless she’s doing it to produce an heir. her biological clock is ticking! haha! (... ugh.)

And this kind of leads to -- in the elaborate backstory of this fic that I can only touch on through DVD commentaries which is like half the reason I do these things -- Maya and Phoenix agreeing that if Maya needs to get out of the village but whoever the other people in the village are start putting pressure on her, she can say she’s “visiting her boyfriend” who they think is Phoenix but really isn’t... and I guess they assume they’re getting up to heir-making activities but oh darn! didn’t work this time! guess I’ll have to go again next week! (obviously they’re just out getting burgers or something.) 

Hence people in the village pushing fertility tea on her because they think the problem is that she’s not getting pregnant... although they’re kind of misunderstanding the reason why she’s not getting pregnant... because no amount of fertility tea in the world will lead to a spontaneous pregnancy without other activities first. which aren’t happening. I feel like I need to clarify this multiple times just in case someone misunderstands.

Pearls both knows about this agreement and knows that Phoenix and Maya aren’t actually dating because she’s like nineteen now? She’s probably known for years, she never brings it up during DD and SOJ.

“I won’t go into much detail” oops. I’m so sorry.

Phoenix didn’t say anything.

Maya took him by the arm and guided him to the couch, plopping him down none-too-gently before sitting next to him. “You can trust me, right?” she asked. “You’re my best friend. I’m here for you, even if you did something really stupid.”

Phoenix laughed a bit. “Yeah… I did something really stupid.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

Phoenix buried his face in his hands with a sigh, then rolled his head to peek through his fingers at Maya. She looked — angry, sure, he wasn’t exactly being the most cooperative of people right now, but — open. Prepared. Like she was actually going to listen.

I know that SOJ called Miles Phoenix’s best friend, which don’t get me wrong I absolutely loved, but I do wish Maya was ALSO considered Phoenix’s best friend if not one of his closest friends, because they’re so obviously best friends. They’re a different flavour of best friends than Phoenix and Miles, because Phoenix and Miles are the “it’s complicated and there are secret romantic feelings possibly but we trust each other unconditionally” best friends, Phoenix and Maya have a twenty-five step secret handshake they have to execute every time upon meeting.

But of course that doesn’t mean they can’t be serious, Maya is absolutely here for her dumb best friend

“It’s…” He sighed, again. “Have you ever — have you ever wanted something for a really long time, but — but you never thought you’d get it, and then you have this chance, and you just… panic?”

Maya nodded solemnly. “Steel Samurai movie premiere tickets. I won a raffle, but I forgot I signed up for them and thought it was a hoax, and didn’t get to accept them before the deadline. The bad Wi-Fi didn’t help, either.”

“But that doesn’t mean they can’t be serious” um

The one constant among all the ace attorney main characters is that NONE OF THEM WANT TO TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS EVER

Also I struggled a lot with this fic trying to figure out... exactly what was going on in Phoenix’s head, and how he would interpret what was going on in his head. I kept changing opinions all the time and it was so off before I did editing haha. Even this line is still a little weird with the “Have you ever wanted something for a really long time” because he probably shouldn’t be aware that he has wanted this for a long time. ... I’m going to stop pointing out the flaws in my own fic now--

At Phoenix’s glare, she added, “I’m just kidding. Thought I’d lighten the mood a bit. Is this about Edgeworth?”

“What makes you think that?”

“‘Cause when is it not about Edgeworth with you,” asked Maya, cutting straight to the heart of things, as always. “Did he ask you out?”

“Not even that.” Phoenix turned his gaze to the floor, ashamed. “He said he loved me. I… I told him I didn’t feel the same.”

Maya was silent for a moment. Phoenix didn’t dare look at her. “Do you?”

“I like being around him,” said Phoenix. “I like seeing him smile, and laugh, and — and he makes me happy.”

What he wouldn’t give to see Edgeworth smile and laugh at him again.

“Not what I asked, dude.”

“Nick’s being really broody again it’s GOTTA be Edgeworth...”

Anyways that second-to-last line there is sticking out at me and I’m pretty sure it’s one I wavered back and forth on deleting before deciding to keep. ... at least I think I kept it? I’m taking these from google docs so there might be a few tiny changes from the ao3 version but I don’t think there’s anything too major I changed while doing last-minute edits.

Again we run into the problem of Phoenix Is Incapable Of Admitting He’s In Love With Miles -- which is the whole psyche-locks thing that pops up in the scene after this. The psyche-locks were also a pretty last-minute addition plot-wise... I think this fic was the most I deviated from my outline, but I was pretty rushed for time so I didn’t do as much planning as I normally would.

Hm I think there’s another ask where I can talk more about the psyche-locks? I’ll talk a bit here because I put a lot of thought into it. Basically I ran with the idea of black psyche-locks hiding something even the owner isn’t aware of, and that those psyche-locks are (typically? who knows about Kristoph) inflicted through traumatic events. Phoenix has three because I came up with three main Issues he had to work through, but some of them kind of blend together... two of them came up through specific traumatic events (Phoenix guesses them in chapter 8) and another one is just general overall trauma. if no one brings up the particular scenes by the time I get to that other ask, I’ll talk more about them, but basically there are three locks from three separate traumas and three occasions where they break -- someone guessed one of the breaking scenes on the narumitsu discord, but no one’s brought up the other two yet! 

Long-winded way of saying that the psyche-locks are the reason that Phoenix can’t admit that he’s in love with Miles yet... and it’s kind of a cheap fantasy visualization of the trauma, basically? Maybe not the most elegant way of addressing it, but I never claimed to be writing for a series which addresses issues elegantly.

“But — but can you even imagine it?” Phoenix demanded, raising his head to gesture fully at the ridiculousness of it all. “Me and Edgeworth?”

“Yeah,” said Maya, simply. “It’s not that hard, really.”

Phoenix had no response.

“You two balance each other out well, and you trust each other, and you both care a ton about each other,” Maya elaborated. “If you love him, what’s the problem?”

oh Phoenix you have no idea. you and Miles are so easy to imagine together that you’re the number one pairing on ace attorney ao3 by a longshot.

Also one thing I kind of wanted to avoid was less of the... “you and Miles are PERFECT for each other how do you not SEE this” thing. nothing against the trope, of course! Just the whole concept of people shipping their friends intensely is something I’m not super familiar with and tbh would make me pretty uncomfortable...? It’s sort of the deal with rpf. Of course this is fanfiction with fictional characters but from an in-universe perspective...

So Maya’s taking the approach of more “Yeah, I can see you and Edgeworth as a couple, I think you’d work well together” rather than “you two are SO perfect together and I’ve been shipping you since 2016!!” because while that may be what Maya is THINKING it’s definitely not what Phoenix needs to hear right now.

“It just… seems like a recipe for disaster. I wouldn’t even know how to… like, this isn’t my first time feeling like this, but when I think about us, me and Edgeworth, it’s…” Why couldn’t he find the right words? “It’s too much.”

Maya brought a hand to her chin and tilted her head thoughtfully. “So — tell me if I’ve got this right — you like Edgeworth too, but for some reason, when he confessed to you, you panicked and you don’t know why.”

“I guess…” Phoenix returned his face to the comforting darkness of his hands. “I don’t know what it is. I-I shouldn’t have a problem, right? But the thought of a-actually admitting that I… or being in a relationship, it feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and am about to fall off.”

Maya was silent for a long time. Phoenix just hoped that whatever she said next, it would somehow magically fix all his problems.

Instead, she said the most ridiculous thing Phoenix could possibly imagine. “Maybe you have trust issues?”

It certainly lightened the mood. Phoenix threw his head back and laughed harder than he had in a long time.

Phoenix is a very trusting person, absolutely, but you can’t tell me this man walked out of the Dahlia Debacle without quite a few romance-related issues. It’s kind of a weird sort of contradiction... 

“No, I’m serious,” she persisted, through his laughter.

“What are you talking about, Maya?” Phoenix managed to get out, once he had that fit of mirth under control. “There’s no way I have trust issues. My whole thing is trusting people and believing in people until the end, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But trusting someone not to be a murderer is a bit different, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like that’s as far as it goes,” Phoenix argued. “I trust you, I trust all of our friends, more than just not being murderers.”

“Yeah, sure, but romance is kind of on a different level.” She leaned back into the couch thoughtfully. “When’s the last time you’ve been with anyone?”

“... At least not since I got Trucy,” Phoenix admitted, only a little shamefully. “You try hooking up with people while having the world’s most perceptive daughter who’s desperate for a ‘new mommy’.”

“Been with anyone seriously, I mean.”

Phoenix winced. “... College.”

“I rest my case, Your Honor.”

Prettty self-explanatory here, I managed to get most of my thoughts on the actual fic instead of wanting to put it in an appendix or something. Basically... you can trust people in different ways? Phoenix can trust someone to not be a murderer to the extent of putting his own life on the line for them... but when it comes to revealing any sort of details about himself, or general emotional intimacy, he’s kind of stingy about it. Of course the out-of-universe explanation is “Phoenix doesn’t talk about this stuff because we need suspense so the player keeps playing the game instead of an exposition dump as soon as the issue comes up” but I like finding in-universe explanations for out-of-universe stuff.

I think I just regurgitated my points in a few excerpts oops.

Last little comment there regarding the idea of Phoenix presumably having a casual sex life -- Iiiiii am super asexual, have known that for a long time, generally kind of squeamish about the concept and also live a very sheltered life. so I don’t know much about people hooking up... like how people just go out and do these things. But I know people do these things so I try to reference it within my limited knowledge. Anyways yeah presumably that was happening in the background throughout the trilogy in the universe of this fic. probably not an important point. i’m moving on now.

“I’m not hung up on that!” Phoenix insisted. “Iris was a good person, she was the person I trusted. I’ve known that for years, now!”

“But she did lie to you,” Maya pointed out. “And you thought she tried to kill you for five years. I dunno, if it were me, I’d have a hell of a lot of relationship issues now.”

“Do you want me to psychoanalyze you too, now, Maya? It’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Oh, no thanks, that’s what therapy’s for,” she said, far too cheerily. “But really, Nick.”

Anyways I’m pretty invested in the whole Iris-Phoenix dynamic post-Bridge to the Turnabout, because like on the one hand, hypothetically the woman you were in love with but you thought was a killer coming out to say that she actually didn’t kill anyone and was actually in love with you should resolve all your lingering relationship issues resulting from that... but I don’t see that actually happening.

It probably took Phoenix the whole five years to come to terms with the fact that Dahlia hated his guts and tried to kill him, because I do believe he was seriously hardcore in love with her at the time. Well, Iris, but he didn’t know the difference. And then finding out Iris actually loved him... but not enough to actually, say, tell him this beforehand?... makes things kind of messy. Phoenix probably thinks he should be all better now but really the whole Dahlia-Iris thing was messed up and undoubtedly messed him up a lot.

Last little bit is just me squeezing in that Maya probably also has a lot of messed up relationship issues and also definitely needs therapy. (And is getting a bit of therapy in this fic! Good for her!) I have a lot of thoughts about Maya’s trauma... but unfortunately this fic is about Phoenix so I couldn’t go too in depth about that. Sorry, Maya. One day.

Phoenix sank further into the couch. “I don’t have trust issues.”

“Y’know, there’s still a lot of stuff I don’t know about you,” said Maya. “You never tell me anything personal until there’s a murder or something and then you have to. What happened to Edgeworth, both times. The whole Dahlia thing. It took me ages to get you to tell me how you got disbarred, even! And, like, romance has this level of intimacy to it, where he’d need to know stuff about you that I wouldn’t know, that Trucy wouldn’t know. And Nick, you know I love you, but I know you’re scared of that.”

“What do you know about it?” Phoenix snapped. “You’re barely ever here.”

He felt horrible as soon as the words left his mouth. Maya gave a sharp inhale and stiffened, her eyebrows knitting above an angry and hurt glare.

“I’m sorry,” Phoenix apologized, looking at the floor. “That was… that was unfair.”

“Yeah,” said Maya. “Yeah, it was.”

yep regurgitating my points from above. Anyways, highlights: platonic “I love you”s are great, we should have more of those. Just... emphasizing that it’s platonic because the Phoenix and Maya friendship is one of my favourite things in the series.

And there’s that “You’re barely ever here” comment that I had to cut Maya out of most of this fic to fit in, because otherwise it wouldn’t make any sense. In the universe of this fic Maya was pretty distant being busy with training and spirit medium Master stuff after the trilogy... and presumably hasn’t seen Phoenix as much as either of them would like. She loves hanging out with her best friend, and probably feels super guilty too, that Phoenix is dealing with all these issues and she can’t be there because she has other responsibilities -- so obviously it upsets her when Phoenix kind of accuses her of not being there for him, because she definitely would be, if she could, and if Phoenix would let her. 

Pretty much you can’t always be around for everyone all the time, Maya would be so worn out if she had to juggle coming down to the city to hang out with Phoenix all the time on top of all her other responsibilities. She knows this, Phoenix knows this too, he’s just kind of lashing out right now because he’s hurt and confused and misses all his important people, but Maya just happens to be in front of him right now.

And yeah what Phoenix said was pretty uncalled for, which he realizes right away, and Maya acknowledges -- a pretty short fight, I don’t think these two would stay mad at each other for too long. 

They sat in a tense silence for some time, until Maya sighed and brushed back her hair.

“Look, I’m saying these things because I’m scared of it, too,” she said, barely above a whisper. “After Mia, and Mom… I don’t want to be left behind again.”

“Maya…”

“Just think about it, okay?” She extended a pinky towards him. “Promise.”

Reluctantly, Phoenix linked his pinky with hers. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

points at this and says Maya’s Definitely Got Trauma From Trilogy Events then brushes it off to get off the uncomfortable emotion topics

“Good.” Maya hopped up from the couch and stretched her arms above her head. “I’ll forget about what you said if you buy me lunch, okay? I’ve got a client this evening, so I can’t stay long, but I’ve got enough time to stop by Eldoon’s.”

“If you insist,” said Phoenix with an exaggerated sigh, and Maya laughed, so Phoenix willed himself to push the conversation from his mind for now. Maya would be spending four hours on a train today for his sake; Eldoon’s really was the least he could provide.

and in true Phoenix and Maya fashion we’re just gonna forget about the emotions and go get ramen! 

Anyways thanks anon for requesting this scene I apparently have so many thoughts about Phoenix and Maya friendship... sorry if this is totally incoherent I should not have started this so late it’s like 11:30! But thank you! I will do more of these tomorrow... hopefully.

[gaamagirl565]

Matters of the heart S2 ep 9

Matters of the heart Season 2 Episode 9

Going under {OPENING CREDITS} {Open to raps turning over in bed and she realizes Eugene isn’t next to her; she gets up and looks around} Rapunzel: Eugene? Eugene: Out here, Sunshine… {She looks and sees him out on the balcony; she puts on her robe and walks out to him and hugs him from behind} Rapunzel: The sun is only barely Rising, how long have you been out here? Eugene:  maybe 20 minutes... I don't know. Rapunzel: a penny for your thoughts? { Eugene shows her a scrap of paper} Rapunzel:  what is that? Eugene:  I didn't want to wake you... another message from The Cult. Rapunzel:  do they ever give up? Eugene:  they’re never going to stop... not until they get what they want.  and with every passing day, the state of our kingdom grows more dangerous. Rapunzel:  we can't attack... we don't know where they are. according to Varian, they keep moving their hideout. as much as I hate to compliment them it's a smart tactic no one can ever pin them down. Eugene:  that and we don't know their numbers... we could outnumber them or they could outnumber us... it's just a giant game of what-ifs. Rapunzel: And whatever we choose next... could decide the fate of Corona. Eugene:  if we continue to ignore them they'll just keep attacking.  starting to feel like our only choice to protect our people is to agree. Rapunzel:  Varians’ not going to be too happy about that... I have an idea! Eugene:  I'm willing to go with anything right now. Rapunzel: what if you send them a response and say you're willing to meet and talk about a peaceful resolution. Eugene: the only peaceful resolution they want is us giving up the shard. Rapunzel:  I wasn't done... I was going to say go meet with them and discuss a time for an official Exchange.  however, you tell me where the meeting place will be and we'll Ambush them with Corona's finest.  everyone will be safe and the moonstone shard will be safe! Eugene:...actually that doesn't sound like too much of a bad idea they wouldn't really see it coming. The only obstacle would be getting Varian and Isaiah involved. Rapunzel: See?  I still got it! Eugene:  it never left you, Sunshine. {he smooches her; cut to Varian working on a new invention and Isaiah coming down the stairs} Isaiah: Mor-... what am I looking at? Zapada: Copilul mea, I've been here since the beginning of this morning and I don't even know what I'm looking at. Varian: BEHOLD! I give you the cooler! Isaiah:... the what? Varian:  well with Summer here I thought it'd be a good idea to make an invention to allow Cooling air to be transferred throughout one's house. Zapada:  how does one work such a thing? Varian:  I'm glad you asked!  Ice goes through the top here and I pour my alchemical solution of my own design into this little hole here.  the solution keeps the ice nice and crisp while the fan here blows the cool air across the room. Isaiah:  that's... actually not a bad idea dad. Varian: Wanna help me fire it up? Zapada: you mean Ice it up? Varian:...I love you. Isaiah: Okay enough with that, please.  I haven't even had my breakfast yet and I already feel nauseous. Varian: Alright relax... when I pour the solution in, just pull the lever over there. Isaiah: got it! {Varian goes to pour the solution and Isaiah grabs the handle of the lever; as he prepares to push it forward he stops} Varian: Buddy? {Isaiah twitches and looks up with pink and green eyes} Varian: oh no… {Isaiah smirks evilly and kicks him to the floor} Varian: OOF!...gh..Zapada! RUN! Get the syringe! {Zapada goes as fast as she can into the other room; Isaiah kicks Varian while he’s down} Varian: Augh!...Isaiah..c’mon buddy I know your in there fight it! Isaiah: shut up… {Isaiah steps on him; Draki slithers onto Varian’s back and hisses with his hood up} Isaiah: stupid snake… {Isaiah kicks him to the side; Zapada runs up behind Isaiah with a syringe} Varian: Sorry buddy… {Varian grabs Isaiah’s arm and flips him over pinning him to the ground} Isaiah: AH! *growls* {Varian grabs the syringe and pulls the cap off with his teeth before injecting Isaiah} Isaiah: GAH! {Varian keeps him pinned and after a few minutes Isaiah’s eyes return to normal and he blinks a few times} Isaiah: W-What happened? Varian:  you went feral again… Isaiah:... sorry. Zapada:  don't apologize... you're clearly not yourself when that happens. Isaiah: did I hurt any of you!? Varian: not too bad no... your old man's been through much worse than a possessed 13 year old. {Isaiah looks over to his side and bolts up} Isaiah: DRAKI! {He runs over but stops when Draki hisses at him} Isaiah: Draki? Draki: *slithers away* Isaiah: Draki wait! I didn’t mean it! I-... Varian: Give him some time buddy... you really did a number on him. Zapada: I'm actually surprised he did not bite you! Isaiah: Draki has never bitten me before... I wouldn't expect him to start now.  I'm sorry... I didn't mean to hurt any of you. {Varian pulls him into a hug} Varian: It’s okay now buddy… Isaiah: no it's not!  it's never going to be okay! not as long as I have this!  I'm just going to keep hurting people.  This stupid power grows stronger but I can slowly feel myself dying and I don't know wh- Varian: WHAT!? Isaiah: I...I just-... I need to be alone… {Isaiah runs out the door} Varian: Isaiah!...oh… Zapada:  like you said before... give him time. Varian….dying? {Cut to an alleyway with Eugene walking in with a hooded cloak draped around him we see two eyes in the darkness of the ally} Vergus: Your Majesty's so nice of you to meet us here… Eugene: what's skip the pleasantries and get to business shall we? {Larkspur steps out of the darkness with two others} Larkspur: now now your majesty... is that any way to treat your guests. and in my opinion, you could have chosen a better meeting place than a dirty alleyway. Eugene:  and most of the people that you've been trying to convince aren't exactly jumping at the idea of meeting you you're lucky I'm even considering it. Larkspur:  I always find it hilarious that people are not willing to listen until you give them the right reasons.  for some people it's money, others its power,  and then there's those where you just have to push the right buttons. Eugene: get on with it already… Larkspur:  fine then... we are willing to set up an exchange.   we are willing to meet on neutral territory owned by no Kingdom. you see some of our members have some past issues with Corona and I'd hate to put my loyal followers through distress. Eugene: how very considerate of you... I know a neutral territory not too far from here.  the North Shore Cliffs overlooking the bay. No Kingdom really holds any ownership over it. Larkspur:  how very Grand. Eugene: I need to make sure you'll keep your word though. Larkspur: why your majesty you wound me.  Do you truly think I'm willing to kill all of you and just take the Moonstone Shard for myself? Eugene: yes… Larkspur:  you're right that would be the easy way.  and it would be quite fun.  however, it's risky there's always the chance I could lose. this is the most Surefire way that I'd be getting what I want. So I'll tell you what we're going to do.  we'll meet on the territory at about noon next Wednesday.  sound good?  We’ll suck the magic out of the alchemist’s little brat,  you give us the Moonstone Shard and we'll be on our way. Eugene:  alright... the North Shore Cliffs at noon next Wednesday. Larkspur: it’s a date then… {she blows a kiss at him} Eugene: ew… Larkspur: Come on boys...let's go home.  I have arrangements to make. Both: Yes mistress. {They all turn to leave} Eugene: ick..Dare I say it but she's worse than Stalyan. {Cut back to Varian’s house; Isaiah slowly opens the door to the front parlor room; he looks over to a candle on the mantle, above it is a portrait of Quirin; he walks over to it} Isaiah: ...I wish you were here. you’d know what to do. Varian: yeah he would… Isaiah: Ah! Varian: Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. Isaiah:... sorry for freaking you out earlier. Varian: you didn't freak me out if anything I was worried for you. tell you what I think I have a way to fix all this. Isaiah: hmm? Varian: I have an old invention of mine...It was kind of destroyed before but I found the old parts and put it back together.  it's able to analyze anything down to a molecular structure. Have to warn you it's not going to be comfortable at all but it could give us some answers on this power that you were given. You willing to give it a try? {Isaiah takes a deep breath} Isaiah: will you be there? Varian: I'll be working the machine I swear I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Isaiah: Okay... let's do this but first I need to go get something! {He runs up the stairs and some crash is heard before he runs back down holding a stuffed animal} Varian:  your stuffed bunny? Isaiah:  his name is bun thank you very much! and I'm not doing this without him. Varian:  okay okay.  you can hold bun while the tests are being done... hey that kind of rhymed… Isaiah: I'm doomed… {Fade to the dungeon at the cults HQ; Noremoth lays still on his side} Cassandra: noremoth?..you alive over there? Noremoth: ..ngh… {The door to the dungeon opens loudly startling them both; Larkspur walks up to Noremoth’s cell} Larkspur: Are My Little Darlings getting along? Cassandra: piss off… Larkspur: tsk tsk...how very naughty. Noremoth: What..what do you want? Larkspur: we finally got the king to agree to a meeting. Noremoth: and I should care why?  last time I checked you locked me up in a cell. Larkspur:  you wanted to end this peacefully will now we have the chance to and I need this to go off without a hitch.  I'm willing to forgive you for your past indiscretions… Noremoth:  what's the catch? you never do things for free... Larkspur:  you will not be getting your position of second-in-command back. you have to earn our trust back and then maybe I'll throw you a bone until then you'll be at the very bottom of the totem pole around here.  our troop can get a little overzealous I need to make sure if they don't get ahead of themselves during the meeting and they respect you. Cassandra: Heh.  what are you saying they won't listen to you? Are you saying they don't respect you? {Larkspur whips around and grabs Cassandra’s throat pulling her against the cell bars} Cassandra: Augh! Larkspur: THEY FEAR ME! that's better than respect! Noremoth:  I'll do what you say just let her go! {She drops Cassandra; Cassandra gasps and coughs} Larkspur: but it's because they fear me but I need Noremoth... I need someone to keep the troops calm.  someone who has a level head.  and even though I'd like to admit I'm perfect I tend to have a quick temper. I'm not looking to lose any more people. so do we have a deal? Noremoth: fine… Cassandra: Wait! Larkspur:  what is it, Vessel? Cassandra:  Noremoth is practically wasting away.  he needs to gain his strength back! start bringing him regular meals and fresh clean water.  you want this to go off without a hitch, you better have a healthy person commanding your troops Larkspur: ... I will take that into consideration. until then welcome back, Norie… {She walks away} Noremoth: Cassandra? Cassandra: yeah? Noremoth: Th-thanks. {Cut to the lab; Isaiah is in the machine being shaken around before it stops} Isaiah: owww… Varian: If I'm going to keep using this machine me I should work on the tests a little. Isaiah:  no, you think? Varian:  you only have two more to go don't worry. Isaiah:  you said don't worry for the last 55 tests. and let me tell you, Dad, My worry is only growing! {Varian folds down his goggles} Isaiah: why are you folding down your- {Lightning zaps through the machine} Isaiah: AHH! {Varian bites his lip as he watches; the lightning stops and Isaiah slumps forward} Varian:...oh no..Isaiah!? Are you okay!? {Pink crackles of magic form around him as he twitches} Varian: Isaiah!? {Suddenly Isaiah arches his back in a horrific scream as pink electricity zaps around the lab; Isaiah’s eyes are glowing green and pink} Varian: NO! {Varian runs over to the emergency shut off and presses the button as the last test singles it has finished; Isaiah collapses against the Machine as smoke and steam rise from him; Varian runs over and undoes the straps on the machine; he brings Isaiah to the floor and holds him} Varian: Isaiah!? Are you okay? C’mon wake up, breathe buddy! {Isaiah coughs and hacks} Varian: oh thank goodness...i’m so sorry buddy...never again okay? Never. Isaiah: d-dad? Varian: yeah? Isaiah: what about... the results? Varian: the res...right! {He helps Isaiah up and grabs the paper from the machine as Varian reads it he is pacing} Varian: okay...so according to the results what the cult told us is true. It was transferred via blood.  it's very strong... it seems to be growing in strength just as you said.  its wavelength is off the charts. I don't think I've experienced this raw power since… {Show a quick flash of Cassandra and Rapunzel fighting in Cassandra’s tower; Varian shakes his head and continues reading} Varian: ... what your physical results... you are getting weaker...it looks like… Isaiah: it looks like what!? Varian: as your getting weaker the magic gets stronger... it's like it's feeding off of you. every time you have an outburst it feeds more off of you...  the cult must have been giving Cassandra treatment so she’d be able to maintain it. Isaiah: so what does that mean for me? Varian:... Isaiah: dad come on I need to know this! Varian: if you continue at the rate you're going.  you'll get weaker day by day... until eventually, you can't fight it anymore. Isaiah:  it's... it's going to kill me? Varian: NO!..no. {he rushes over and forces Isaiah to look at him} Varian:  I'm not going to let it do that to you... you're going to be fine okay? we'll find a way around this we always do! I'm not going to let anything happen to you... that’s a promise okay? {Isaiah throws himself into his father’s arms and Varian hugs back tightly; he looks up with tear-filled eyes} {END CREDITS}

[ilu-writes]

Sneezes

Days and Nights (solangelo)

Rating: G | Warnings: None

AO3 | FF.net |

Prev | x | Next

A kind of continuation from the last one! Will’s trip into the snow doesn’t sit well with anyone, but he’s not one to admit when he’s down. 

Will groaned when he felt two hands shaking him, and buried his head deeper into his pillow. “Go away.”

“You’re going to miss breakfast.”

“That’s fine,” he mumbled, and the shaking stopped.

“Are you feeling okay?” Asked Avalon, and he could feel her shifting her weight onto the bed as she sat down.

“I’m fine. I’m just really… tired.”

“Do you actually want to miss breakfast, then, or are you just being whiny?”

He paused to consider that for a second, then sighed. “I don’t want to miss breakfast.” He grumbled, rolling over. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Great,” she said, pushing herself off the bed with a smile. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He sat up groggily and rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s just, y’know, winter.”

She made a sympathetic sound of agreement as she left. Children of Apollo didn’t take cold very at all, and they also seemed to have their internal clocks set to wake up at sunrise, which made winter mornings a very specific type of hell.

Then again, waking up also meant food, and Nico, and probably no work because it was midwinter, all of which was very worth waking up for.

He got dressed as quick as possible, making sure to add an extra thick coat and a few more pairs of socks for the cold, and then made his way out. As he passed through the door, he let out a small sneeze, but he didn’t think too much of it.

As he walked, he glanced up at the sky. The barrier protecting the camp kept out the worse of the weather, but it still let in a light flurry of snow. In theory, Will loved it – it was nice to look at and fun to mess around in, especially when it came to sledding down all the hills surrounding the camp. In practise, Will hated the cold weather, strong winds, short days, and everything else it came with it.

He made a beeline straight towards the Apollo table when he entered the Pavilion, unsurprised to not see Nico there yet. This might’ve been late for him, but it was probably pretty early for the son of Hades, who’s internal clock seemed to be set a few hours ahead of everyone else’s.

He sat down and groggily stared at his plate.

“The head councillor has arisen!” Said Kayla, deepening her voice for dramatics.

“Morning.” Will mumbled.

“How’s Nico?” Asked Austin, looking smug as he speared a piece of sausage with his fork.

“He’s fine.” Said Will tonelessly, long since used to getting these questions whenever Nico wasn’t around.

“And the extra lessons?” Prompted Kayla.

“Going fine.”

“And the date, yesterday?” Tried Austin.

“It was fine.”

“Come on.” Kayla pouted. “Don’t we get any details?”

“Nope.” Will turned his attention to his plate, ordering his usual – bacon, eggs, and toast – even though he didn’t feel that hungry. They still smelt great. “I need to burn some food.”

“Do we get details when you come back?” Asked Austin, and Will rolled his eyes and didn’t bother answering, instead going to join the queue.

He glimpsed Nico walking in out the corner of his eye, and turned slightly as the boy walked towards him. “You’re up early.” He pointed out, somewhat sarcastically. Nico gave him a small smile.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he said with a shrug. “Also, I was hungry. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You look exhausted.” Nico gave him a quick once over. “Also, this is way later than you usually start eating.”

“It’s not that much later,” Will grumbled, before giving in. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I blame winter. It saps the strength out of me.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Said Nico, sarcastically, before raising an eyebrow. “Are you still up for training later? We can move it, if you need to.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” Said Will, supressing a yawn as he stepped up to give his offering. “I’ve got nothing else to do today, anyway.”

Something flickered in Nico’s eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad I rank so high on your priority list.” He hummed, and Will rolled his eyes, stepping down again.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Asked Nico, before smiling. “If you’re up for it, we can go straight after breakfast. There shouldn’t be anyone over there today anyway.”

“Sounds great.” Will grinned, ignoring how achy his arms felt. “I’ll need to check on the infirmary first, but then- yeah.”

They made their way back to the Apollo table together, and Will felt a rush of relief as he realised that none of his siblings could bug him about Nico if he was actually at the table.

#

Nico looked up as Will walked into the training area, interrupting his bored pacing. “Hey,” he grinned, grabbing one of the swords off the rack. “How’s everything at the infirmary?”

“Good,” said Will, running a hand through his hair. “We haven’t had any admittances, so.” He shrugged. The camp was usually empty enough this time of year that he could get away with doing the bare minimum of work, which was always a relief. The worst they got was people with colds or the flu, and the treatment for that was just warmth and sleep, because giving them ambrosia or nectar was too much of a risk.

He reached out to take the sword, but then faltered half way and had to grab a tissue out of his pocket, sneezing into it. Nico blinked, and then frowned at him.

“Ick,” said Will, before tossing the tissue almost perfectly into the bin. “Sorry.”

He reached out for the sword again, but Nico hesitated. “Are you sick?” He asked, sounding surprised.

“No.” Grumbled Will, immediately. “I’m fine, it was just a sneeze.”

“If you are sick-“

“I’m not.” Said Will, firmly. “I can do this.”

He sounded so determined that Nico caved and tossed him the sword, which he managed to catch. “If you’re sure…” he trailed off and waited a few seconds for Will to back out. When he didn’t, he sighed and raised his sword. “Okay, then. We’ll start with a few basic blocks.”

Will nodded, and adjusted his stance accordingly. After checking he was ready, Nico moved forward and brought his sword towards the other boy in a slashing motion. The blonde brought his up to block it, but sneezed right before they connected, managing to cover his nose at the last second but dropping his weapon in the process.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, grabbing a tissue. Nico frowned at him.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” He asked after a second, concern leaking into his voice.

“I don’t get sick.” Declared Will, throwing that tissue into the bin, too. “My immune system is too strong from helping people who do.”

“Then why are you taking your coat off?” Asked Nico, raising his eyebrow. Will faltered for a second, but then continued shrugging it off.

“It’s hot in here.” He declared, simply.

“No, it’s not. It’s freezing.”

“Well… you’re wearing more layers than me.” Said Will, clearly trying to defend himself, but even he trailed off a little at the end.

Nico considered for a second, then sighed. “Fine. But- we aren’t practising with actual swords again. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not-“

“I know,” Nico sheathed his sword and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “But if you sneeze again, or lose your focus in anyway, and I hit you… You could get seriously hurt. You were lucky this time that I have quick instincts – you’ve seen the injuries.” He chastised him, trying to sound firm-but-not-too-condescending.

“Fine,” Will conceded, after a second. “What do you want to do instead?”

“We’re going to practise some strategies,” declared Nico, walking over to the edge of the arena and going through the boxes.

“What kind of strategies?” Asked Will, suspiciously.

“Sword fighting ones.”

“Helpful.”

Nico straightened up with a grin, tossing Will one of the two objects he was holding.

“Nico,” he said after a second of processing, “is this a pool noodle?”

“It’s a short one, so it’s easier to control. Also, I got you the yellow one.” He held up his own black noodle as if to emphasise it.

“Thanks?”

The son of Hades ignored the ‘are you serious’ look he was getting in favour of walking back into the middle of the arena and repositioning himself in a fighting stance. “It’s much safer, don’t you think?” He pointed out, raising his eyebrow. Will couldn’t argue with that, even though he wanted to, so he just maintained his blank look. “Fine. Think fast-“

Nico stepped forward, swinging his noodle towards the other boy, who instinctively raised his own noodle towards it. They connected, and then Nico grinned and slid his noodle under Will’s and bumped into his side.

“See? Strategy. You blocked, and I still got you.”

“I get it,” said Will, sniffing slightly. “I need to have a full… plan to carry out.”

“Right, as opposed to swinging wildly- or even just reacting to your opponent. You need to know what path you’re going to take before you take it- and to do that, you ideally want to know your opponent. Just like I knew how you’d block that shot.”

“You have an unfair advantage.” Noted Will. “You trained me.”

Nico shrugged. “I also have several years more of experience with the harshest teachers you can find.” He pointed out. “Most of your opponents will have an advantage of some kind over you. You have to work around it.”

“Right.”

Nico demonstrated a few more moves, and then they started to spar like they had real swords. Eventually the sense of ridiculousness started to wear off, and it got pretty fun. He even managed to get in a few hits at Nico, although he was pretty sure his boyfriend was just going easy on him.

After about ten minutes, he held up his hand to indicate he needed to pause, and turned away to cough deeply into a tissue. By the time he turned back, his chest ached with the effort and his head swam unhelpfully. “Sorry,” He mumbled, weakly.

Nico opened his mouth, seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, and then hesitated a second before speaking. “Are you okay?” He asked, gently.

“Yep,” said Will, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.” Nico still looked uncertain, but Will adjusted his stance and grip so he was back into a more ready position.

After a moment, Nico matched him. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Nico swung forward, going for the knees, and Will leapt back out of his reach.

Or rather, he tried to leap backwards, but what actually happened was more of a stumble where he felt like his entire brain flipped over from the motion, and then everything went black.

#

Will opened his eyes to a blinding light, and instinctively squeezed them shut again. Wasn’t he at the arena like two seconds ago? Wasn’t he standing up?

He felt a soft nudge at his side – not someone trying to wake him up, but someone tucking a sheet around him. A sheet? That wasn’t right.

He opened his eyes more cautiously this time and glanced around, ignoring how the slight motion seemed to make his head ache. He would’ve recognised the room anywhere – he as lying in an infirmary bed, in one of the private sections.

A few feet away, Nico and Avalon were talking softly. Nico realised he was awake first, glancing past the latter’s shoulder, and smiled at him.

“Welcome back,” he grinned, walking over. “Good to see you’re awake.”

“What happened?” Asked Will tiredly, still feeling disorientated and confused. “How did I get here?”

“You passed out while we were training.” Explained Nico, raising an eyebrow.

“He carried you back here,” said Avalon, waving her hand at the Italian, who shoved his hands in his pocket. “It was very heroic, but also terrifying.”

“I passed out?” Will repeated, frowning. Nico shrugged.

“I told you you were sick. But do you ever listen to me? No.”

“I don’t get sick,” mumbled Will, which seemed like a pointless statement even to him.

“Try telling that to the rest of your body.” Retorted Avalon drily, before holding up a thermometer. “May I?”

Will opened his mouth obediently, and Nico moved around to sit on the end of the bed so he could watch the blonde, crossing his legs. When the thermometer beeped, she pulled it back out.

“102 degrees,” she read out loud. “Definitely a fever. How does your throat feel?”

“Fine,” replied Will, automatically.

“That’s great.” Avalon deadpanned. “How does it really feel?”

Will paused to consider before he answered. “Sore.” He admitted, finally.

“And your head?”

“Also sore.”

“And your chest?”

Will gave her a tight smile. “How about we just go with ‘everything is sore’?”

She hummed gently, and put the thermometer down on the side. “Definitely the flu, then. Which means you’re on bedrest for the foreseeable future.”

“But-“

“No.” Nico held up his hand to cut him off. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll take care of you.”

Avalon nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And, Nico, just remember- lot’s of water, warmth, and rest. That’s all he needs.”

“Noted.”

She grinned at him before leaving and closing the door gently behind her.

Nico turned back to Will, who was glaring at him. “I’m not staying in here,” he grumbled, and Nico laughed.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I feel like whenever you make me stay here.”

“So this is revenge?”

“No,” Nico rolled his eyes, still smiling. “This is taking care of you, sunshine, because you’re sick.”

Will pouted. “I don’t like being sick,” he muttered. “I hate everyone fussing over me when there’s more important stuff to do.”

“First of all, you don’t really get a choice in that, we’re going to look after you until you’re better,” he held up his finger to punctuate, and raised another one. “Second, you said yourself there’s nothing to be done around here anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Technically, Nico was right, but it didn’t really help him much. When he didn’t respond, the other boy sighed.

“Plus, if we’re stuck in here, it means we can do this all day.” He pointed out, leaning forward so he was lying opposite the blonde, their faces inches apart. Will smiled, and then sighed and held up his hand between them, making Nico raise an eyebrow.

“We can’t. You’ll get sick too, if you stay like that.” Will muttered, tiredly.

This time, it was Nico’s turn to pout. “I don’t care.”

“I do, I’m not getting you sick just ‘cause I’m lonely.”

“You’re not letting me do anything, I’m just ignoring you.” Sighed Nico, but he got up anyway and moved to the chair by the bed, settling for a brief kiss. “What do you want to do, then?”

“I don’t know,” replied Will, after a moment of consideration.

“Helpful, thanks.”

“Sorry,” said Will with a grin, not sorry at all. Nico leaned forward and propped his head on his hands.

“Come on, I’m currently your slave for the day, so we can do whatever you want.” He prompted. Will considered for a few more seconds then grinned.

“You could teach me Italian,” he pointed out, and Nico rolled his eyes.

“Seriously-“

“Please?” Will did his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “Just, like, a few phrases?”

For a few seconds Nico just stared at him, as if questioning his resolve, and then he sighed. “Fine. What you want to know?”

Will paused think about it. He hadn’t expected to get this far; apparently being sick did have it’s up sides. “How would I introduce myself? Like, ‘hi, I’m Will’?” He asked, finally, deciding to keep it simple.

“Ciao, sono Will.” Said Nico. “Or, mi chiamo Will. Either one.”

“What about ‘this is my boyfriend, Nico’?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Questo è mio ragazzo, Nico.”

“How about ‘I love you’?”

“Depends on the context and who you’re saying it to-“

Will gave him a deadpan look. “How do I say ‘I love you’?”

Nico felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Ti amo.”

“Ti amo.” Will repeated back to him, grinning. Nico supressed a laugh.

“Ti amo.” He repeated back for a first time, before sighing. “Why don’t we do something else?” He suggest. Will looked like he was going to disagree for a second, but then he shrugged.

“We could read. Or, more accurately, you could read to me.” He offered. “I bet you missed out on a ton of good books.”

Nico still found it kind of weird to talk about his seventy-ish years in limbo, mostly because he couldn’t really explain any of it properly, but he’d mostly gotten used to the fact that he’d missed a lot of stuff. “I’ve read a lot of good books,” he argued, albeit it mostly jokingly. The only books he’d really bothered to read where the ones they made him read in school.

“Mhm.” Said Will, raising an eyebrow. “How many of those did you read optionally?”

“… Not the point.”

“Look, we have books in the Apollo cabin. I can introduce you to much better books than whatever you had to read in school.”

“It wouldn’t be hard, all we read in school was, like, Shakespeare and stuff.” Nico shrugged.

“Watch it,” said Will, using a faux-warning tone. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

Nico snorted, but conceded and left the room. A couple minutes later, he returned with a book in hand. “I was advised by Kayla to start with this one.” He said, holding it up.

“Great,” said Will, smiling as Nico sat back down on the chair.

“The Friday before winter break…” he started.

#

By the time they finished the book, it was already dark outside. Will was watching Nico with a small smile on his face, distracted by the way the boy focused as he read and sounded out the words. He got extra credit for putting up with blonde’s occasional sneezing or coughing fits, too. As soon as he closed the book, Will pushed himself up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Asked Nico, looking surprised as Will let himself fall back onto the bed.

“No reason. I just love you.” Grinned Will. “Also, you’re cute.”

Nico made a soft humming sound in response and tossed the book onto the side table, leaning forward to prop his chin up with his hand above Will’s face. After a second of studying him, he leaned over and brushed his boyfriends hair out of his eyes. “I love you, too, then.” He said gently, and he moved his hand to brush his thumb over the other boys lips.

Will’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart did a backflip in his chest as Nico kissed him lightly, first on his nose, then his mouth, and then his jaw, moving around.

“I’m contagious,” he breathed finally, swallowing hard.

“Mm-hm.”

“You- you might get sick,” he added as the kisses moved down to his neck, trying not to get distracted.

“I’ll take that risk.”

“My siblings could walk in at any- any- any moment.” He drew in a deep breath, but he could feel his resolve shattering.

“Alright.”

Will made a small sound and looped his hand smoothly around Nico’s waist, pulling the boy on top of him. Nico laughed, but readjusted himself so his legs were either side of his boyfriends waist.

“I believe I won this round.” He said smugly, hovering inches above Will’s face with a grin.

“Shut up, death boy.” Will muttered, threading his hands through the other boys hair and pulling him down so their lips crashed together.

Nobody was particularly surprised to find them still entangled in each other the next morning.

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 2

“You’re a pilot, right?”

Van glanced up from his drink at a girl in a rather drab beige robe cinched tight around her body that covered most of her face. The robe was immaculate, without spot or wrinkle despite the squalor of their surroundings. He couldn’t help cocking a brow; if she was attempting to go unnoticed, she wasn’t doing it very well. She carried herself far too proudly, kept her shoulders too square, held her head too high. But there was a craze behind her eyes, one that spoke desperation, He scratched at his chin for a moment as he looked around the cantina. Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Seemed nobody had noticed her. This sort of hire had a tendency to get him into trouble… but having spent the last of his credits on that fill-up, Van wasn’t exactly in any position to turn her down.

“Uh, yeah.” He smiled. “Van Taris, pilot-for-hire. You got somewhere to be?”

The girl nodded, frantically it seemed to Van’s eyes. “An orbital station, above Bonumaan.”

In the back of his head, Van felt a twinge of excitement spark. Bonumaan was a ways out. That kind of a trip.... that would be the ticket right there. But he wasn’t fool enough to say as much aloud, instead feigning a half-sneer. “Ick… Never liked Bonumaan,” Van replied. “So muggy everywhere you go… least, where I’ve been. Big planet, all that.”

“But you can get me there, yes?”

“Of course, yeah, but uhhh, y’know... not free.” Van pulled his sleeve back and began punching in a few quick calculations on his wrist console. It was a simple little gadget, mainly just used for this exact purpose. “Lemme see… We’re on Natoth, and Bonumaan is about… 2400 parsecs Rimwards... rounding down, anyway, to save you money.” Van winked at the girl. People usually liked that bit. “That’s gonna be a couple days’ travel… maybe we can stop over on Takodana--”

“No! Please, we have to be as fast as possible.”

“Alright, alright! No stops…” Van continued, changing his calculations. “So accounting for fuel cost these days, food and water for the road, plus my extra twenty percent…” A moment of further calculation, then a quiet ping from the console. “That’ll run you 1680 NRC.”

“Can you take Imperial?”

Van frowned. “Sorry, I… people still do Imperial? That was… that was kinda before my time. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright, nevermind…” The girl dipped a hand into her robe and pulled out a stack of 500-NRC chips. Four, to be exact. Van licked his lips; that was a big fat tip.

“Now, I can’t make exact change, you gotta understand…”

“It’s fine,” the girl urged. “Just… please. I have to hurry.”

Van nodded, turning back and draining the rest of his drink. It was an effort to hide his excitement. 2000 credits… back in the day, that would have been enough for a pretty decent used speeder bike. Nowadays… well, Van would put it to good use. Maybe get the Bird shopped up, see if he couldn’t improve her fuel-rate so that his current situation didn’t happen again. Between the creds, and his tank filled up now… Van liked his odds of making it home.

“Alrighty, you got yourself a pilot. If you’ll follow m-ohhh…” The pilot shook his head as he stood up from his stool. He never drank anything too strong, but perhaps that had been a bit of a chug. He cleared his throat and got his feet back under him. “Okay, okay. Follow me, Bluebird’s this way!”

Van led the girl on a quick jaunt out of the bar and across town, in the chilly Natoth air. This particular hemisphere was hitting the middle of winter, and things on this system got particularly cold, cold enough to build up ice on the windows of any structure without proper heating. He liked Natoth well enough, but he didn’t have the blood for it. He blamed Naboo for that one.

Rinng met him outside his ship, covered in grease. Van produced his last 5-credit chip and dropped it into the mechanic’s hand. He would have tipped more, but he was going to need every credit of that 2000.

“Hey, hold on before you take off,” Rinng called after the pair. Van turned curiously back to the tendril-headed fellow. “I noticed a bit of buildup around the base of your cannon, so I went ahead and cleaned it off for ya.”

“Oh, thanks man! You really didn’t have to do that.”

The Nautolan waved the comment aside. “I’d go ahead and fire up the bioshields, get started warming those windscreens up. You know how bad the ice gets these days.”

“Thanks again, Rinng. See ya soon.” Van offered a sloppy salute as he opened the Bluebird’s hatch and led his passenger inside. As he eased himself back into his seat at the helm, he heard the klik-ssssssssssssss of the station’s fuel line disconnecting. As he began firing up the ship, the fuel tank showed at full capacity. While that was always a good sight, Van still couldn’t shake an odd feeling about this gig. Last time he was on Natoth, he picked up a shady character… admittedly he’d been more obviously sketch than this lady, but he’d picked him up in the Cantina just like her. Cheap scum didn’t even leave a tip, and Van was pretty sure he saw the creep try to swipe his blaster on the way out the door. All said creep got away with was a holster… which Van had to replace, since the creep apparently just up and disappeared a day after he left the Bird and couldn’t be hunted down. Either way, this gig still seemed on the verge of being sketchy, but these days… again, 2000 is 2000.

Van grinned as the engines roared to life, and the Bluebird began to lift up out of the station. He quickly pulled up his astrogation chart, plotting a course for Bonumaan, past Takodana--avoiding open space, for Rinng’s sake--as the ship lifted itself up through the atmosphere.

“So!” Van called, turning to see the girl strapping herself in. Nearly swallowing his words, the pilot hurriedly secured his own safety belt as well. “Once we make the jump, that’ll put us just past Takodana, at which point we’ll swing around the planet and make a second jump to hit Bonumaan. Normally I’d just shoot straight there, but I’ve heard about some, uhh… well, some unsavory activity goin’ on right in that sector. Do hope you don’t mind.”

“What sort of unsavory activity?”

“Fighter Jockies,” Van replied with just a hint of a sneer. “Pirates. Like to blast apart good honest travelers, then pick at whatever’s left of their ships like animals.”

“Sounds like you’ve encountered them before.”

“I have,” Van said grimly. “I was lucky I’d just hooked my cannon controls up to the helm, because I didn’t have a gunner with me. If I hadn’t sprung for the upgrade, they prob’ly woulda blown me right outta lightspeed, scattered what was left of me across the whole parsec.”

“How would they fire on you at lightspeed? No weapon can fire that quickly.”

“Not a cannon. Some of ‘em have these big ol’ blades strapped to the flanks of their fighters. So long as they can swing in beside you, they’ll carve your ship wide open.”

“That’s horrid!”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Van, “which is why it’s such skiff that the Senate can’t decide on what to do about it.” He paused for a moment. “Uhh, pardon my language.”

“It’s fine.”

Van turned back to the helm. “Anyway, I’m gonna take us around the other end of Tako just to be on the safe side, alright? If it helps, I can offer you back 20 credits.”

“Don’t worry about the money, I just need to get to that station soon…”

“Don’t suppose you have any reasons for the express treatment you’d like to share?”

The girl frowned. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”

Van held up a hand. “Totally cool, pretend I didn’t even ask.”

They had just passed into the void of space, pinpoints of starlight shining through the blackness stretched out forever before them. Van wrapped his fingers around the warp switch and turned back to his passenger. The girl pushed back into her seat and offered a single nod of confirmation. The pilot whipped back forward and slowly pushed the switch forward. The stars stretched and shone brighter and brighter, until the blackness of space gave way to a swirling vortex of shimmering blue hyperspace.

“Beenine. Stabilize, please.”

“Of course, love,” came a voice from overhead.

The girl jumped. “What was that?”

“Oh, that’s Beenine. She useta be a droid, but then we got into a scuffle with an ex-Imp cell. One of ‘em had one of those riot batons, Beenine took a hit. Lucky me, I was flying into Nar Shaddaa at the time, so I swung by a chop shop, got her patched up as best I could. Beenine, say hi!”

Van pointed up over the console, where built into the ship itself was installed the round head of a protocol droid. The girl let out a little gasp as the droid’s illuminated eyes.

“Nice to meet you, love. Designation B9-V at your service. Welcome to Taris Travels, ready to do all we can to make your travels as smooth and swift as possible.”

The girl blinked profusely for a moment, but she nodded. “Pl-uhh, pleasure to meet you.”

After a moment longer, the Bluebird’s pressure-stabilizers kicked in, alleviating the force pressing the ship’s occupants into their seats. Van heaved himself up from his chair and stretched. “So!” he started, “lemme show you where everything is. Don’t worry, she’s a real small ship… sure you noticed on the way in.”

The tour was brief. Van had two sleeping quarters on opposite ends of the Bluebird, one for himself and one for his passenger, or two for his passengers if he was flying for more than one. The pilot’s seat was a perfectly fine napping spot… usually. Foodstores and a very, very rudimentary kitchen took up most of the lower deck, and the rest of the ship was either working parts or storage. Van made a point to keep things cozy. Sure, it was a source of occasional complaints, but what did it matter? This ship wasn’t a home to anyone but Van, and Van liked things the way he had them.

“I believe I’ll retire for a bit, if it’s all the same to you,” said the girl. “Forgive me, but it’s been…”

“Hey, I get it,” said Van. “That’s what the beds are for. Take a load off. I’ll be up here keepin’ an eye on things.”

The girl bowed, and disappeared into the hallway. Van turned back to the swirling hyperspace before him.

Beenine’s head swiveled down to look at her pilot. “So what do we know about her?” her voice came from a smaller speaker on the console now, rather than the overhead speakers.

“Not a thing,” Van replied. “Picked her up in Sen-Trill.”

“Sen-tr--” Beenine sighed, an exaggerated sort of sound. “Captain, we’ve discussed this, nothing good comes out of Sen-Trill.”

“Well that doesn’t change the fact that we’re out of work,” Van shot back. “She gave us 2000 creds, we can’t afford to turn that kind of money down!”

“Is this about Life Day?” Beenine groaned. “We’ve had this conversation a thousand times! Just Comm your mother, she can take care of it!”

“And I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not doing that! I’m a grown man, I don’t need a handout from my mother.”

“Your credit account says differently.”

“Bee! We literally just got 2000!”

“And before that, you had six.”

“Oh, shut up and plot us a course!”

Both pilot and droid let out exasperated half-shouts as they went back to their respective duties. Van would never think about wiping Beenine’s memory, but times like this she just tested his patience so much…

Just keep flying, Van thought to himself as he gazed out the windscreen. His eyelids grew heavy, and he felt weariness settling on his shoulders like a great weight. Everything will work out fine if… if you just keep… keep... flying...

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

there has been an enquiry after our big baby boy, foster pupper Harvey

they have the right fences and have had big dogs before, are willing to take the time to train him (when we got him he couldn’t sit still for more than half a second and just jumped and bounced because he was s stirred; he is so much further along, but not ready for socilaisation yet), had a little elderly great dane until they passed of old age 

they have a nice spot and pyjamas waiting for him, if the meeting goes well

but I would be very sad. he may be a little shit sometimes, but having him curl up as a little spoon on my bed is lovely, even if he sometimes sits on your head and licks you relentlessly because he worked out how to jam his face under any pillow you put up as a shield

he can sit, have quiet time, come, play ball, and almost interact with cats (never unsupervised, but if you bring one in in your arms and tell him to Wait, and introduce them nicely, he’ll sniff and lick them for a bit)

like, he came so very, very far from when we got him, even stopped being bone-guarding (to an extent) when we firt got him he legit bit my sibling (a little) in panic that someone would take his bone... the other day, like a year later, he sat at my feet and ate it. I could pat him, I actually told him I was going to take it and then did, and he was chill about it.

My son. My puppy boy, who can put his paws on your shoulders and lick your forehead and has since we got him at 9months...

-------

There had been a few enquiie before, but they had little kids in the house and he has no real concept of his size or strength yet. Some also had small fences, and didn’t want to change, so like... no. This dog could be called houdini, he can get out of normal dog fencing (he squishes down like a fucking octopus and slid right through a Square. itshould not have worked. but it did) and we changed the house fence to smaller dog wire to prevent that happening a fourth time

he escapes because he’s impulsive as hell. ‘oh, wallabies out there? gotta chase!!!’ and the next thing you know. he’s out there, chasing them and not coming no matter how many treats or squeaky toys you try to lure him in with. He might come now, because there’s a lot of work gone into it, but im not spending 6 hours chasing him just to test it lmao

----

He is our fifth foster puppy, and the longer you have them, the harder goodbye is. But, sometimes you get a really good family who sends you updates, or even a One year later update with photos, like Willow’s new furever family did.

And knowing that if they decide the pupper doesn’t fit in or they find them too hard to handle/too much for them... they’ll come back to their original foster family, is reassuring. 

----

You should have seen my face when I initially went to get what was supposed to be two tiny puppies, and was provided with Harvey a supposedly nine month old. Allegedly. He was like, bigger than a shetland pony, and his first instinct was to lick my forehead by, you guessed it, putting his paws on my shoulders and just COVERIGN me with spit.

Had to ick him up from the local RSPCA (where the transporter was able to drop him off, to wait to be picked up, so they could cntinue with the other animals in their care to the next town), and the little bugger already leapt the five foot playpen holding enclosure thing... so three people helped wrestle him into the only-just-big-enough harness I brought

getting him into the car was... fun. driving home with him was... even more fun. Especially loved the part where this dog, with his harness and doggo seatbelt on, was able to stand up, lean forwards vaguelyuely and lick the back of my head, shoulders, neck and hair the ENTIRE way home...

and then I was like, “Dude, you will not believe the size of our new foster brother” (the fmily joke being that parental unit s the foster parental unit, and we’re the human siblings.

sibling was like, “?” and then “!!!”

I remember calling the parental unit at work like, “Hey, so could you maybe come home at lunch and Meet the New Puppy”

Parental Unit always says that was when they got suspicious... and then they met this huge boy. “Ah, I see what you meant”.

He had to have a crate, because there was no way to calm him down except (wait for it) putting him in the crate and covering it with a sheet and talking softly.

Oh, and Harvey makes these sad high pitched noises you’d never expect of a bg dog, and he sounds like a bird. Just the SADDEST bird boy in the WORLD when he wants affection and doesn’t get it (which would be 24/7 in his perfect world). 

He also has learned to pee in the manner of all his sisters (the animal ones) by squatting. He was very confused at the praise he got the one and only time we caught him peeing with his leg up, like a big boy, but otherwise hs never done it again. Lmao. As long as he’s happy.

----------

He might just... find his furever family, very shortly. And that will be hard, but the people who asked after him seemed... perfect.

Maybe. 

My boy... 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Eyestealer 2 - ao3 link

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama (mostly gen, hints of other relationships later)

Summary: Hashirama really doesn’t approve of the thoughtful way his father looks at his younger brother’s bright red eyes. He’s sure it doesn’t mean anything good for anyone.

He’s right.

A/N: I feel like I’ve at least mentioned this to @blackberreh-art, @kitsunesongs, @writhingbeneathyou and maybe @perelka-l

——————————————————————————————

Tobirama never forgets anything.

Ever.

No matter how much Hashirama might wish he does.

Every rashly made promise (Hashirama quickly learns not to commit to anything he isn't sure of, though he never quite gets over his tendency to engage in dramatics), every embarrassing mistake (at least the memories make Tobirama smile, Hashirama assures himself as he nurses his injured pride), even the useless things like what they'd had for breakfast on some random date, like three months and fourteen days ago.

Hashirama knows that one for sure, because he's tested it.

Still, sometimes it's helpful - Tobirama attends the same lessons Hashirama does, since Butsuma refused to get him his own tutor, and his brilliant memory means that he can recite exactly what sensei said about how to do a particular jutsu when Hashirama is struggling to practice them on his own time later.

Tobirama even learns the jutsus faster than Hashirama does. It's almost as if he only needs to watch a single demonstration one time, and then he’s able to repeat it. He's practically Uchiha levels of good at copying, even, and everyone knows they have the Sharingan to help them with it.

But Tobirama's a Senju, not an Uchiha.

Hashirama had hoped that Tobirama's obvious genius would appease their father, but while it gets a certain smug satisfaction, Butsuma remains as antagonistic to his second son as ever, even going ahead and naming little Kawarama as the official spare – next in line to clan leadership after Hashirama – before he'd even survived infancy.

Rude.

"I don't know what his problem is," Hashirama complains one day as he helps Tobirama with his daily morning ritual.

Hashirama need only roll out of bed and into new clothing to be ready, but Tobirama needs much more preparation than that: cream to protect his skin from the sun, a rinse to darken his hair a little to a grey color that could be excused as the inheritance of their distant Hatake cousins rather than admitting his albinism to the enemy, a nasty-smelling drink that Hashirama swears he heard someone say was made in part out of spider web (ick!) to help make his blood stronger, an iryo ninjutsu technique to strengthen his immune system...

He even has special lenses to protect his eyes. He wears them all the time, even when he sleeps, but since he needs to change them out a minimum of once a week before they get dirty, he’s made a habit of changing them in the mornings as well. Though honestly, Hashirama doesn’t really think the lenses actually do all that much? Tobirama's vision is never anything less than perfect, and he confessed once that he didn’t notice a difference once he'd adjusted enough for them to stop itching.

The only thing they actually seem to accomplish is making Tobirama’s eyes a dull flat matte red instead of the shiny red-with-black-flecks they were underneath.

But why would anyone bother just with changing the color such a small degree, especially since they’re still red either way?

"What do you mean?" Tobirama asks, sitting still so that Hashirama could brush the rinse through his hair. He likes that little indulgence, sitting in Hashirama’s lap in a way he considers himself far too dignified to do the rest of the time, and Hashirama likes it too, likes taking care of his little brother in a way he’s not allowed to do most of the time. Being considered grown-up before he's even ten is awful.

"Butsuma!" Hashirama exclaims. He's complained about this before, but he'll happily complain about it again. "You're better at jutsu than I am, you're training yourself in taijutsu and kenjutsu all the time, you're basically teaching yourself how to create seals in what little spare time you have, our teachers say your grasp of battle tactics is second to none - I don't understand what more he could want from you!"

"I don't have the Mokuton," Tobirama answers, because he always takes questions very literally. He's a serious child, and Hashirama finds himself playing up his own childishness in an attempt to compensate. The other children, their cousins, don't like to play with Tobirama, and their parents all seem to have followed Butsuma's lead in respecting Tobirama's abilities without respecting his person. Only his teachers adore him. "He could want that."

"That traveling Uzumaki said you were the most promising suiton user he'd ever seen," Hashirama retorts. "And barely anyone has the Mokuton, anyway!"

"You do."

"Well, yeah. But I'm only as good at it as I am because you keep helping me figure stuff out. And you're always coming up with new ideas, too; not just for me but for everyone!"

Not too shabby for a six year old.

“My chakra levels are also disappointingly low,” Tobirama points out. This is true, unfortunately: he’d had such potential when he was a baby, the medics all said, and they'd spiked dangerously low a few times when he'd been in that dangerous age when his body first started developing its chakra coils, but by now they'd steadied to a fairly low amount that Tobirama was only able to very slowly increase with lots of practice and effort.

And, far worse in Hashirama’s view, the low chakra levels meant that Tobirama is tired all the time. Not that it stops him: Tobirama gets up before dawn to train, and studies late into the night, but even on days where he did get enough sleep there always seem to be circles under his eyes and sometimes a slight tremor in his stride. Hashirama can tell that some days, bad days, any movement at all beyond the most sluggish causes him physical pain; they're working on a iryo jutsu to deal with that, but there's only so much they can do.

“But your control is amazing,” Hashirama says, avoiding the issue of chakra entirely. He wishes that Tobirama had the same reserves he did, but wishing wouldn’t make him suddenly capable of sharing the too-much he had to compensate for Tobirama’s too-little. “You can do more with less chakra than most of the adults in our clan can do with everything they’ve got.”

Tobirama doesn’t need to reply for them both to understand that all this effort, however impressive, was not and would never be enough for their father.

Tobirama shrugs. "I'll just have to try harder to make him happy," he says, like he hadn't cried into Hashirama's shoulder for an hour the night before because Butsuma had absentmindedly praised little Kawarama in a way that he'd never done, not once, for Tobirama.

Hashirama's hatred for his father burns in his chest like he's an Uchiha, cursed clan that they are, and it gets worse every year as he watches Tobirama torture himself for their father's approval in what they both know is futile hope.

Tobirama had been so happy for Kawarama, too, that was the most gut-wrenching part of it; even through his tears of despair and hopeless envy, he'd managed a shaky smile, the ones that more and more often appeared only in his eyes, saying that he was glad that Kawarama would get the chance to know what it was like to have his father be proud of him. He loved Kawarama so much, so very much, had raised him the way Hashirama had raised him because Hashirama was now too busy with the war to do it himself. Of course Tobirama would blame himself for the envy their father so cruelly created.

Oh, how it made Hashirama's heart burn. It would be so easy for their father to make Tobirama happy: a kind word, even a smile. It would cost him nothing. And yet, time and again, he treats his second son with nothing but disdain and endless, escalating demands.

He'd even sent Tobirama out to the battlefield when he was only four, two years before the usual age, despite Hashirama's screams of protest. Only as a courier, yes, toddling through trees to carry messages from one post to another, but it was still only through luck and Tobirama’s own skill that he survived.

"Well, whatever. Who you are is more than enough for me," he says to Tobirama, not for the first time, because it's true and because Tobirama loves to hear it, even if it will never fill the hole in his heart that their father created. "Screw the old bastard anyway."

That last part is something he doesn't normally say. Maybe Hashirama was a little more sore about yesterday's crying session than he'd thought.

Tobirama frowns at him. Serious, always serious. "You shouldn't say such things, Hashirama."

"Why not? He's not here to hear it."

"I don't want to risk him hurting you."

Surprised, Hashirama frowns at him. "You mean hurt you."

That's new, too, and it wounds Hashirama more than anything else, made him hate more than anything else, made him want to hurt something, someone, even himself if it would make the pain go away. It's already intolerable enough that Butsuma routinely put Tobirama at terrible risk, but no, he felt free to punish him, too.

Not for his own mistakes, as Tobirama had few enough of those - but for Hashirama's.

As the only living inheritor of the fabled Senju bloodline limit, Hashirama is now virtually untouchable. Even his father, who used to raise a hand to him at the slightest provocation, wouldn't dare let anyone see Hashirama limping out of their household after one of the beatings he claimed, when Hashirama was younger, were meant to correct his character, and that meant the beatings stopped entirely.

At least, they stopped for Hashirama.

Butsuma had been pleased to learn that his eldest son's behavior could be just as easily corrected by a threat of beating Tobirama (a threat carried out often enough to give it teeth), and possibly even more than it ever had been by beating him directly.

Hashirama tries so hard, now, to be a good child, but even when he’s trying he finds that he's not very good at it.

But Tobirama shakes his head in negation. "No, I do mean hurt you. Our father...he 's terrifying when he's when he's really angry. I don't want you to see that, not ever."

"When have you seen that?" Hashirama asks, frowning. Had he missed something? Has he let his brother down again?

Tobirama hesitates, which is uncharacteristic of him.

"What? When was this? Did he do something -"

"I don't remember," Tobirama says, and he never says that.

Hashirama gapes at him.

Tobirama seems to almost shrink in on himself. "I can't place it, I mean," he corrects himself. "I know what happened on every day, and this didn't happen on any of those days. I can’t place it in the sequence of my memories - but I still remember it happening."

Tobirama had viscerally horrific dreams, so realistic that he couldn't tell they weren't real when he was having them, but he always knew what was real and what wasn't when he was awake, as he is now.

"A genjutsu?" Hashirama suggests.

"I can break almost any of those."

Tobirama is freakishly talented at genjutsu, despite it not being a traditional Senju strength. It isn’t like it really matters, though; no matter how good a Senju could become at genjutsu, any Uchiha would tear it apart like it was nothing. That’s what they’re famous for.

"No, not an illusion. I mean, maybe something to make you forget when it happened, papering it over with some other memory. Maybe?"

"Possible," Tobirama allows, though he still looks disturbed.

"What do you remember? Just Butsuma being angry?"

Hashirama hasn't called Butsuma a respectful title in years, not even to his face.

Tobirama considers the question for a long moment. "I'm scared, in the memory," he finally says. "Really scared, badly, worse than anything. He's angry, but also pleased, smug. I feel his killing intent. I know there's nowhere to run - my leg is trapped by his doton jutsu, and I don't know how to escape. I'm trapped. He laughs and says, 'At last.' He steps forward. And then -"

"And then?" Hashirama prompts when Tobirama trails off, sick to his stomach and not really wanting to know, but certain that he has no choice. If sharing the burden if this mysterious memory will lessen it for Tobirama, Hashirama will gladly shoulder his part of it.

"And then he rips my eyes out of my head."

Hashirama recoils. "He wouldn't!" he protests automatically. "That's – even if he doesn’t do anything with them, that’s still practically eye-stealing! It's - it's forbidden!"

Immoral and disgusting, too, but the important thing is that the Senju are locked in battle with the Uchiha, a dojutsu clan. If the Uchiha ever got wind that they'd started stealing eyes like dishonorable bandits, they would immediately summon all the other dojutsu clans, as well as the daiymo and his samurai in their roles as dispensers of justice, to aid them in eradicating the Senju from the face of the earth.

"I know," Tobirama says. "But I still remember it."

His eyes are distant.

"Do you remember anything else you can't place?" Hashirama asks, curious. “Any other memories, I mean?”

"My best friend falling off a cliff and breaking his leg."

Hashirama frowns. "But - I'm your best friend. And I've never fallen off a cliff."

"I know," Tobirama says, looking upset. "I know that. But in the memory, it’s different. I just know he's my best friend and that he's falling and that I shouldn't have dared him to climb."

Tobirama's never dared anyone to do anything on his entire life. He’s far too serious.

“That’s…awful,” Hashirama finally says, even though he knows Tobirama knows it already. “How long have you remembered this?”

A shrug. “Always, I think?”

Hashirama shudders in revulsion at the thought of it. “Why only mention it now, then?”

“I’m six.”

“…so?”

“I’m not six in the memory,” Tobirama says. “I know I’m not six yet. I don’t know how much younger than six I am, but I’m definitely not six. I thought, you know, maybe it was something that hadn’t happened yet or something? Something in the future? But you still haven’t fallen off any cliffs –”

Now that Hashirama thinks about it, Tobirama’s always hovered around him whenever they were near a cliff.

“– and anyway you don’t really look like the person in the memory.”

“Do you…?”

“No, I’ve never seen him before. Or even anyone who really looks like him. He’s got lighter skin than any Senju but me, but that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, the Uchiha are pale enough to fit, but obviously I’ve never actually met any of them outside of the battlefield.”

Hashirama nods solemnly, shuddering at the thought. He’s been on battlefields across from the Uchiha himself, careful never to look them in the eyes; he’s a ninjutsu expert, or will be, and that means he doesn’t have to come into close contact with any of them.

It’s probably for the best – Butsuma’s always needling him about his soft heart and tendency to adopt sad looking animals no matter how dangerous or wild, jeering that Hashirama would probably try to adopt an Uchiha if he found one that looked upset, and honestly Hashirama’s not entirely sure he’s wrong.

“Anything else?”

“Not really. Next thing I remember is a Senju clan medic standing there with a scalpel, saying he thinks he’s cut them down enough to fit.”

“Cut what down?”

“No clue. I started crying at that point, so everything is blurry.”

"...okay. And that’s it?”

Tobirama nods.

“Where do you think the memories come from?" Hashirama asks.

"I don't know," Tobirama says, and wraps his arms around himself, looking so miserable that Hashirama immediately reaches out to hug him. "I don't know. But Hashirama, promise me - however you feel about our father, don't ever face him like that: weak and helpless, while he laughs. Please. Promise me."

"I promise," Hashirama says at once, and means it with all his heart.

He fully intends to be the one laughing on the day their father falls.

[vesuvianvienna]

Surprise

someone recently commented that there wasn’t enough portia smut and frankly i agree so pls enjoy some pure lewd fluff with the biggest cutie in vesuvia!

cw: smut

It had been a long, trying day at the shop; the marketplace had been crowded and noisier than usual, and it seemed that one customer after another had something to complain about--odd how no one seemed to grasp that magic wasn’t an exact science. So you were a little disappointed to return to the cottage you shared with Portia on the palace grounds and find the windows dark, the hearth cold. “Portia,” you called out, hoping she had just laid down for a nap and overslept; you weren’t sure you could handle her having to work another late night at the palace.

“Back here!”

Relief washed over you as you heard her voice come from the bedroom, and you set down your bag at the kitchen table and pulled off your boots before walking barefoot down the hall. The door to the bedroom was shut, and you pushed it open, your eyes widening at the sight that awaited you.

Portia lay draped across the bed, which had been adorned with silks and furs in a rainbow of complimenting colors and scattered with rose petals. Candles flickered on every flat surface, some even enchanted so that the flames glowed in different colors. Her body was covered in intricate lace in a stunning deep green, the cut displaying each soft, sensuous curve. You froze, jaw hanging nearly to the floor. “P...Portia?”

She tried to hold a sultry expression, but it quickly gave way to uncertainty. “Do you like it?” She sat up, loose fiery hair spilling around her shoulders. “We’ve both been working so much, I feel like we never really spend any...y’know, quality time together, and I thought this would be a nice surprise, but if you-”

You silenced her by all but catapulting yourself across the room and into her arms, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was sweetened by laughter. Her arms closed around you, knees gripping your hips as your hands plunged wrist-deep into her hair. When you finally broke from her mouth, your restless lips peppering her face with tiny kisses, you murmured, “You asked Julian for help, didn’t you?”

Portia sighed as you trailed kisses along the curve of her jaw. “More like I mentioned how much I missed you and he gave me his advice whether I wanted it or not. I will admit, the enchanted candles he got from Asra were a nice touch.” She laughed, the sound breathless as you grazed your teeth over her pulse. Your name sounded holy, whispered reverently as you left a mark on her throat. Her body rocked beneath yours, so soft and warm it made your chest ache as your head lowered to trail the tip of your tongue up the line of her cleavage.

“And this?” Your finger hooked in one of the delicate straps of her lace ensemble, lifting a questioning eyebrow. “I doubt Julian had one of these just lying around.” “No. Ick. This was a suggestion from mila-from Nadia.” Portia’s cheeks colored; though she had been released from the Countess’s service months ago, old habits die hard, and she still found it difficult to address Nadia by name, no matter how many times she was encouraged to do so. “She has a tailor at the palace who specializes in lingerie.”

Your hands cupped her breasts, so full and soft beneath the lace, and you bit your lip at the sight of her eyes fluttering shut. “Mmm, remind me to thank her...and to see if this tailor can make you a few more pieces like this. I’m not sure if this one will survive tonight.” Her hips bucked as you pulled down the lace and gave her nipple a teasing lick, the hard tip sliding wonderfully against your tongue. Portia’s mewls and whimpers sent heat flickering down each nerve, like tiny tongues of fire that pooled between your legs, your thigh pressing between hers. “God, I missed you.”

“Oh, I missed you too,” she breathed as your kisses dipped lower, down to her stomach. This was undoubtedly your favorite part of her body, soft and pleasantly rounded, quivering deliciously when you ran your fingertips over it or kissed the cup of her navel. Her hands slid into your hair, pushing it out of your eyes as your reached the top of her thighs, delicately taking the forest green lace between your teeth and letting it snap back against her skin. “Wait,” she murmured, sitting up and tugging at your shirt. “Time for you to show some skin.”

With a grin, you replied, “Yes, ma’am,” and pulled your shirt over your head, slipping off the edge of the bed to unwind your skirt and let it flutter around your feet. While your undergarments weren’t quite as enticing as hers, her pupils nearly swallowed up the blue in her eyes as she watched you crawl back over her, thighs parting in greeting as you kissed their sensitive inner faces. That whisper of your name became a moan as your tongue pressed against her center, warm through the lace, then with a pop and a purr of parting fabric, you ripped it open, your eyes rolling back in your head as you tasted her properly. You all but purred against her as her hands slid into your hair again, lightly scratching your scalp but never really digging in; if she could have gathered her wits enough to look down at you then, she would have seen such a wicked look in your eyes. Your hands pressed against her thighs as you kissed her folds, lowering your head to lap your tongue over her entrance. As much as she liked being teased, she had very little patience, and you knew that soon she would be curling her little fingers in your hair and tugging, all but demanding your mouth on her clit.

Sure enough, less than a minute went by before she gave your hair a sharp yank, beckoning you further up with a frustrated whine. Even as you followed where she guided you, you couldn’t help a soft chuckle. When your tongue grazed her clit, her body jolted, hips bucking helplessly. “More,” she moaned, and you noticed with amusement the rose petals stuck to her skin. “Please, more.”

Part of you wanted to draw this out longer, to tease her into a breathless, whimpering mess, but it had been a long time for both of you, and you wanted to make up for lost time. Your mouth closed over her clit as you slid two fingers inside of her, groaning at the slick warmth of her and grinding your tongue against that sensitive little bundle of nerves. Her back arched, soft thighs quaking as you buried your head between them, loving her like your very survival depended on it. Soon, her shrieks could rattle the glass in the windows, her body rocking wildly beneath your mouth as you sucked hard at her clit, grazing your teeth over it to make her squeal as you relentlessly stroked that hidden sweet spot inside of her. You reached up to take her hand in yours, her fingers clutching desperately as she neared her release. Your mouth lifted away from her for a brief moment, planting a damp kiss on her hip before you cooed, “Come for me, pretty girl.”

With that, she was molten beneath you, your mouth latched to her as she arched her back so hard you could hear the vertebrae popping. Her walls clenched hard around your fingers, which were pressed against that rigid little pleasure point, drawing out her bliss for as long as you could. When she at last collapsed against the bed, panting and starry-eyed and more beautiful than anything you could ever remember seeing, you withdrew your fingers and pressed one last parting kiss to her folds, stretching up to lay your head on her stomach. “How was that?”

“That,” she said breathlessly, “was a good start. Give me a minute to recover and I’m gonna make you see stars, honey.” You chuckled as she gently pet your hair, making plans to contact Asra with sudden severe symptoms of some vague illness once Portia allowed you out of the bedroom. You had a feeling the two of you were in for a long night.

[trashcanband4]

I Don’t Need Your Pity

Part 2

Prompt: Imagine Daryl accidentally reading your journal and finding an entry about him.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2242

You had kept a journal for as long as you could remember. Even now in the middle of the world falling apart you still kept a journal. You didn't always have time to write in it, but since moving into the prison and settling down you had found time every night to add a small entry. For the past few nights though, you hadn't been able to write because you had somehow managed to lose the dark brown leather book. You'd looked everywhere you could think of and still hadn't found it. So when night rolled around you went to bed without doing your usual entry.

~Meanwhile~

Daryl, bored as hell, moseyed around the library looking for something to read. He normally didn't read, but since things had settled down he found himself bored at night. After looking on practically every shelf and not finding anything that seemed interesting he gave up. He turned around one of the wooden chairs at the table in the room and sat down in it backwards. On the table sat a dark leather bound book with no markings indicating what it was. So curious, he picked it up and flipped to a random page.

“Today was a good day. We cleared out the walkers from other parts of the prison and found the shower block. People are actually smiling now.” Daryl knew right away that this was someones journal and that he should stop reading, but for some reason he kept going. “However while everyone else has formed strong bonds with each other, everyone has a best friend, I don't. I have been with this group for a few months now and I still don't really feel like they have accepted me. I mean, yeah, we all help each other. We all cleared this prison together, but I still just feel like a visitor, like I should be leaving soon.” Daryl now knew who the journal belonged to and he intended on stopping, but his name at the bottom of the entry made him continue. “I pretty much have everyone's personality's figured out now. But there is still one person that totally confuses me, Daryl. He talks and laughs with other people, but when I try to talk to him he just grunts or nods.”

Daryl sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face feeling ashamed at his behavior toward you. “Have I done something wrong? Do I smell bad or something? He makes me feel like there is something completely off putting about me and I, for the life of me, can not figure it out. Maybe he simply has no more room for friends. I don't know, but it sucks because I have observed him around the others and he seems to be a good man. He helps out more than the others, if there is a run that needs to be done he is the first to volunteer. Hell, not just runs. If there is anything that needs to be done he is on it. He is hard working, sweet, and caring. He has a moral code and from what I've seen he sticks to it like glue.”

Daryl wasn't used to hearing or even reading good things about himself and he felt a tightening in his chest at her words. “If I'm being honest, I find the quiet, closed off man to be incredibly attractive. There are so many things about him that pull my eyes to him like a magnet. First there's his eyes, they're this really crystal clear blue. I've always had a thing for blue eyes. Then there's his arms. Oh my gosh his arms are like, the arms of a god or something. His muscles are so well defined but not too big like one of those disgusting body builders or something. He walks around with sleeveless shirts on all the time and every time I look at him it feels like my hearts going to pound out of my chest.”

Daryl knew the feeling, he was pretty sure his heart was about to burst through his chest and land of the journal. He also knew that he should really stop reading your private thoughts about him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. “But I've noticed that he has this really gross habit of biting his nails. I mean, does he know how much ick is probably under those things? Disgusting.” Daryl smiled at that. He had thought about how much bacteria was under his nails, he just couldn't break the nervous habit. “Anyway, I should probably stop gushing about a man that hates me and get to sleep. I'm sure we are going to have another day of hard labor ahead of us in the morning. We are still moving dead walkers out of the tombs. We're trying to clear them but more just keep on coming. So we need to find where they are coming from and close it off. Anyway, Goodnight journal. Wish I had someone to talk to other than you.”

Daryl closed the journal and pushed it away from him. He felt terrible for reading your private thoughts. He knew, however, that the right thing to do would be to return the book to you so that no one else would have the chance to read your journal like he had. So he grabbed the leather book and headed to your cell. When he got to where the sheet was hanging for privacy, he peeked in to see that you were asleep. He sighed and sat the book down.

When you woke up the next morning and stood from the bed with a yawn the first thing our eyes landed on was the journal sitting on the small metal table in the room that was attached to the wall. You scooped it up and looked out of the cell to see that there was no one in sight. “Oh, dear God I hope no one read this.” you sighed as you tucked it into your bag.

As your day progressed you noticed Daryl was acting different toward you. When you passed each other in the dimly lit hallway, dragging bodies out for the fourth day in a row, instead of looking away from you like he usually did he gave you a simple nod. Shocked, you nodded back then carried on your way.

Then while you all worked to move the bodies that had been dragged into the yard, outside the fence to be burned, you stopped to take a breather and clear the sweat from your brow. Daryl noticed how hot and sweaty you were and walked over. You jumped when you felt someone nudge your shoulder. When you turned around you saw him holding a half empty bottle of water out to you. “It's easy to get dehydrated out here.” he explained as you opened your mouth and pored some water in without touching your lips to his bottle. “I ain't afraid to drink after ya.” he explained, taking in how slick your lips looked from the water that had splashed on them. He had noticed many times before how nice they were and often found himself wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

“Old habit.” You explained as you capped the bottle and handed it back to him, but he didn't take it. He was too busy staring at you. “You okay?” you asked making him shake his head clear of his thoughts. He just bit his lip and nodded before taking the bottle and walking off. He was acting strange. A good strange but strange none the less and you couldn't help but wonder what was going on with him.

Later that night everyone sat around eating a dinner of rabbit that Daryl had killed and rice from the prison stock. It was good, even if it was a little bland, and you were enjoying your meal, sitting alone like usual when you felt like someone was watching you. You looked up to see Daryl looking at you as he chewed his food. You self-conscientiously brushed your hair behind your ear and looked back down at your plate. After a few seconds you looked back up to see him still watching you, this time he gave you a small smirk. You gave him a small smile back then looked back down at the food on the paper plate. Why was he smirking at you, did you have something on your face? It seemed like he was flirting with you, but there were several reasons why you were sure that wasn't the case. One, you were nothing special. Despite the lack of food in the new world you were still what you liked to call soft, and you never considered yourself sexy or even pretty. The second reason? You were pretty darn sure that Daryl hated you. He never spoke to you, today aside, never looked at you unless shit was hitting the fan and really never even acknowledged you were there unless you spoke first.

When you finished your food, you told everyone goodnight and headed to your cell to write in your journal about what was going on. Hopefully writing would help you think and figure out why Daryl was suddenly being nice to you. You had just sat down and opened up your journal when you heard someone clear their throat outside your cell. “Yes?” you asked and the sheet was pulled to the side to reveal Daryl's face. “Hi.” Your shocked tone made the word sound more like a question. He had never come to you before.

“Hey, can I...?” he asked with a motion to the second chair in your cell that you usually propped your feet up on.

“Yeah sure.” you answered then closed the journal and sat down the pen. “What's up?” you asked, trying to sound like him being in your cell wasn't a big deal when it really was.

“I, uh, have a confession.” Daryl stated with a scratch at the back of his neck as he turned the chair around and sat down in it backwards.

Suddenly everything clicked. Your journal appeared that morning then Daryl started acting weird, being nice to you. “Son of a bitch.” you said as your eyes got wide. “It was you wasn't it?” you asked and Daryl just stared at you with a blank expression. “You're the one that returned my journal.”

It wasn't a question, but Daryl nodded before he started biting on his thumb nail. “I read some of it.” he confessed around his finger. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and you quickly turned around in the stool that you sat on, not wanting him to see your face. Those were your private thoughts, how could he do that? How could he read them? “I didn't mean to. It was just sitting on the table in the library. It wasn't labeled. I didn't know what it was until I started reading.” he rushed to explain. “I'm sor-”

“How much did you read?” you asked, your tears turning to anger as you turned to face him. Daryl actually leaned back away from your pissed off tone.

“Enough.” he answered quietly.

“How much is enough?” you asked, glaring at him.

“You're whole last entry.” You could see how sorry he was for what he had done. It was written all over his face, but that still didn't keep you from being pissed.

Then you remembered exactly what all you had written in your last entry. Particularly the parts about Daryl. Your face flushed bright red, you could feel the burn of your cheeks. “Oh my God.” you gasped as you stood up and ran from the cell. You ran until you were outside where you could get some fresh air. You felt tears of embarrassment sliding down your cheeks as you sank to your knees in the wet dirt of the field. “Y/N?” Daryl asked from behind you.

“Go away Daryl.” you growled in an attempt to hide the shake of your voice.

“Alright, I just... I really am sorry.” he said quietly and you heard him walk closer before a red rag made its way into your vision.

“I don't want that.” you said as you stood up, your tears turning to anger again. “I don't want your pity.”

“Wasn't pity.” he scoffed as he tucked his shop rag into his back pocket.

“Really because up until you read my private thoughts you wouldn't even give me the time of day. You couldn't stand me now you're smiling at me and talking to me as if you don't hate my guts?” you asked, your hands clenching at your sides. “Bullshit.” you scoffed as you walked around him back toward the prison.

“Fine, be that way. Makes no difference to me.” he called out to your retreating back. “I know what it feels like to not fit in.” he said quietly to himself with a shake of his head then started walking the fence taking down the few walkers that had gathered there.