#Half the time I feel like fighting bird brain

[astronomodome]

It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy

Rendog

c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise

cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me

Grian

c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening

cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t

Joel Smallishbeans

c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies

cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3

Scott Smajor

c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too

cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose

BigB

c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin

cc!: Man is yoked. I have died

Etho

c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid

cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten

Bdubs

c!: I could punt him with ease

cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it

Pearl

c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it

cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains

Martyn Inthelittlewood

c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me

cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die

Scar from Goodtimes

c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face

cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?

Impulse

c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes

cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though

Tango

c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem

cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope

Cleo

c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me

cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it

Jimmy Solidarity

c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time

cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.

Skizzleman

c!: Why would I do that

cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk

Geminitay

c!: Lol. No.

cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial

Mumbo Jumbo

c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him

cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over

Lizzie LDShadowlady

c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it

cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack

[cyborg-franky]

Hello,Franky! I'm here to ask if you can do a Yandere Marco fic?(⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

Ohoh it has been a second since I did a yandere. But I also have these written.

Yandere Headcannons Stowaway  Yandere Headcannons [N/SFW] Seasons Yandere Harpy Marco 

======

Marco x GN Reader SFW [Tho it's a little IMPLIED for rude things] YANDERE THEMES WC: 800

Marco wasn’t a jealous man by nature, happy to see his partner flourish and make friends. He smiled watching as you laughed with Thatch, your hand on his arm as you threw your head back in another howling laugh at the joke the chef had made. Marco loved your laugh, seeing you happy made his heart sing. 

But once a month he became someone else, the phoenix inside of him riled up and angry. He was seething with jealousy, an emotion Marco wasn’t used to and wasn’t always sure how to deal with it, especially in a healthy way. He could feel flames roll over his shoulders when he saw you getting close to others, how Ace wrapped his arm around your shoulders and leaned in to whisper something.

Oh, he knew Ace was just a friendly guy and would never encroach on what was his but the phoenix was louder than his rational thinking as he strode over to where you and Ace stood, chuckling at whatever stupid childish thing Ace had said. 

You blinked when Marco’s eyes narrowed, staring down his nose at you with a look of contempt, his lip curled into a sneer as Ace quickly straightened up and jumped back, his arm falling from your shoulder as he cleared his throat. “Hey, Marco,” He nodded politely but Marco’s scathing look was focused solely on you as he replied to Ace without his usually chipper tone. “I think you have duties to be attending to, right?” 

The way those beautiful blue eyes continued to stare you down, causing you to wriggle in discomfort, wilting under the heat from his stare. He was such a laid-back person, you’d never seen him mad. The edge in his voice was causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand, an unpleasant sensation thrummed through you as he clicked his tongue against his teeth when Ace hadn't made any move on leaving you two alone, Marco took his heated stare off of you, fixing it on Ace instead.

“Well?” 

“Oh, Y-yeah,” you could tell how taken aback Ace was at the dismissive way Marco spoke to him, probably feeling the intensity of piercing blue eyes narrowed at him because he almost tripped on his foot when he excused himself.

“And you,” he started when Ace had scurried out of earshot. “Flirting instead of doing your tasks yoi,” He hummed in thought as he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, using his grip on you to direct you back to his office. “You think taking a longer break is okay because you can’t help yourself?” 

You hated how it was worded like a question but the glint in his eye as he pulled you against him told you he didn’t want your excuses, there was nothing you could say to get out of this. You stammered uselessly and let out an awkward chuckle. “S-sorry.”

“Oh little bird, you think sorry is good enough? I think you need to make up for the time you’ve cost us yoi.” 

Your feet couldn’t keep up with his long elegant strides of haste, his arm left your waist in favor of gripping your wrist painfully. His skin was cold, the phoenix and his rational brain fighting the war for dominance within him. You stumbled when he tugged you into his office, slamming the door behind you both.

“You just can’t be trusted out of my sight, can you?” Marco sighed, tilting his head to one side to watch the emotions flitter across your face as you felt yourself backed against the wall. Unable to take your eyes off the shimmering blue of Marco’s predatory gaze, his half-lidded eyes and lazy smirk firmly in place as you stammered again. He chuckled and put his hands on the wall behind you, boxing you in.

Marco smirked when you closed your eyes, trying to briefly escape the unbearable tension that threatened to drown you. “Well?” he pushed for an answer, you didn’t know what he wanted you to say but standing there like a cornered mouse about to be snatched up in the talon of a hawk wasn’t going to do you any favors. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, cracking open an eye to catch his reaction. His smirk faltered for a second, so fast you thought you’d been seeing things. “Sorry?” he hummed to himself before pushing your legs apart with his knee keeping it between your thighs. “Little bird, you are going to have to show me how sorry you are, I’m your boyfriend after all yoi.” 

“H-how?” you wished you hadn’t asked when you saw the smirk grow, something flashing behind his eyes, not entirely him, nor human. He leaned in, warm breath fanning across your skin, you could feel his lips move, sending a tremble of confused feelings throughout you. “I have some ideas…”

[percyswhxre]

the percabeth kiss, annabeth’s pov

a/n: i started this a while ago, so the beginning may not be the best. also it will switch from using capital letters to all lowercase (idk if that bothers anyone, just putting it out there). also this was not proofread!!

Annabeth’s POV:

“Hey” I said, sitting next to Percy on the bench in the dining pavilion. “Happy Birthday” I held out a cupcake with blue icing, and it looked very messy. Percy stared at me with confusion “What?” He said. “It’s august 18th, your birthday, right?” He looked surprised that I remembered, but then his shock turned to happiness as he smiled at me. “Make a wish” I told him. Instead, he asked “did you bake this yourself?” I smiled. “Tyson helped” I replied. “Oh that explains why it looks like a chocolate brick, with extra blue cement.” He said, laughing and smiling. I joined him, and this was the happiest we’ve been in a while, with the war and all that. He eventually stopped and blew out the candle on top of the “brick”. We split it and half and ate it. “You saved the world” I said. “We saved the world” he said, and I looked over at him, seeing the blue frosting on his face and the small smile he made after the last thing he said. “And Rachel is the oracle” I started “which means she won’t be dating anybody.” I smiled to myself, thinking maybe Percy would finally take his attention away from Rachel. “You don’t sound disappointed.” He said chuckling and grinning. I shrugged it off and said “oh, I don’t care.” “Uh-huh” was the next remark out of his mouth. “You got something to say to me, seaweed brain?” I laughed, raising my eyebrow. He did that cute thing where he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d probably kick my butt” he said, nervously showing that lopsided grin that I loved so much. “You know I’d kick your butt!” I said giggling (which was very unlike me) and punched his arm playfully. He licked the frosting off his lips and brushed the cake off of his hands. “When I was in the river styx, turning invulnerable,” he paused for a second looking at me “Nico said I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal.” He stopped again, this time taking a longer pause. “Yeah?” I said, fighting the urge to look at him because I knew if I did, I would do something impulsive. “Then up on Olympus,” he continued “when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking-” I smirked and said “Oh you so wanted to!” “Well maybe a little,” a small blush started to creep across his cheeks “but I didn’t, because I thought I didn’t want things to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking…” he stopped, looking nervous. I turned fully and made eye contact with him “anyone in particular?” I asked, my voice soft as I was trying not to laugh. “You’re laughing at me!” He complained “I am not!” I said smiling. “You are so not making this easy!” Then I laughed softly, and looked him dead in the eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I am never, ever going to make things easy for you Seaweed Brain, get used to it.” Then, feeling it was the right time, I leaned forward and kissed him. Not hard, but softly and gently. He didn’t do anything for a second or two, and I started to think I had made the wrong choice. Then, he started to kiss me back, slowly, and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. It was the perfect moment and I wished it could last forever. But of course, as demigods, we never really get any peace. “Finally!” I heard someone yell, as Clarisse came into view, along with some other campers. “These love birds need to cool off!” Both me and Percy’s faces turned red, realising that all of them had just seen us kiss. “The canoe lake!” Connor Stoll yelled. Then, all the campers that were watching came out and picked us up and carried us down the hill. Thank the gods, they kept us close enough to hold hands. Percy and I started laughing, still bright red, as we were carried down the hill. We held hands until they threw us in the water. Then, Percy, being the son of Poseidon, made an air bubble for us at the bottom of the lake, which dried us off completely. he swam towards me and slowly wrapped his arms around my waist as i put my hands on his chest.

(i’m working on a part 2!)

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the slow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. His was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered by I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

[nyaniikat]

This has been itching my brain for the past few days. Hawks x male goat hybrid. Fun fact goats wag their tails constantly when they need to mate…. And I was thinking while hawks is teasing the reader and their tail keeps tickling his nose while he gives oral. That’s all I got *^*.

HELL YEAAAA GOAT HYBRIDDDD

ehehehehehehh I got a good one for this, hopefully what I wrote is alright ♡＾▽＾♡

This one took a while cuz I was pretty busy

•---------•

Sub Male reader/Dom Hawks

Female aligned DNI

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Keigo is basically eating you out here

-

Feeling his tongue in you was bliss, the juices spilling out of your cock went right onto the sheets

After Keigo noticed you being strangely more affectionate this morning, face flushed, the horny look in your eyes and your tail wagging constantly, he searched through his memories to figure out what day it was for you to act such a way.....and then it hit him.

Your heat

Your heat is here and it's early

Too early that he couldn't make a call about how he can't go to work for the next few weeks and had to worry about you while he was filling out paperwork, fighting villains and dealing with boring meetings.

Your panting got heavier and the moans were louder as you felt the overstimulation. However, something you didn't notice was how your tail was wagging and the fur at the end of your tail was tickling Keigos nose.

With every tired bone in Keigos body, he did his absolute best to not sneeze, laugh or even a tiny giggle at the fact that his very horny husband still had his tail wagging, if he did right now...well... he was definitely not sleeping in the same bed as you for the next few days. An idea popped up in his head, deciding to try and stop wagging your cute tail he took his hand and gently held your tail to hold it up so he could properly please you and make you cum and cum and cum again.

Although this sudden motion made you turn your head in confusion, the innocent look on your face with your eyes looking at him with a question made him smile a little.

"wh-why are you holding my tail???"

"Baby.. you were wagging your tail in my face I thought I was going to laugh because your tail tickles"

"A-ah I'm sorry I didn't realise my tail was bad for you"

The sudden sadness in your eyes made Keigo stop what he was doing only to flip you over and cage you in-between arms

"Hey~hey~ it's alright sweetie you don't need to apologise, things like this are just a natural thing to you and it's okay for you to show them"

"But didn't I just ruin this-"

"No no you didn't ruin anything baby bird~ I only did that so I could pound into you more when you're prepared enough for another round"

"Ke-keigo!! don't say things like that it's weird!"

Embarrassed, you covered your face with your hands yet your tail wagged furiously with love. Keigo laughed as he enjoyed this side of you, pulling you closer he kissed your hands and neck.

He loved every bit of you and seeing you get embarrassed remembered him the first time you both did it. Despite you being older than him by a few years you never had sex with anyone as you had no proper interest in them except for him.

Pushing your hands away from your face, he kissed you, slowly, deepening the kiss to a full-blown makeout. Rubbing your ass he lifts your lower half up giving your butt a harsh slap followed by your moaning. Once he heard you moan it was a sign for him to start fucking you deep into the sheets again. More harsh slaps were given to your butt as you felt Keigos hard dick against yours.

Ah, you were in for a long night for sure

•---------•

[sirenlulls]

emily, i'm sorry → c. zdunowski

pairing — cynthia zdunowski x fem!reader

summary — you were the one person cynthia never had to change for. all it took for her to realise was you leaving.

i just make it up as i go along, and i can feel myself becoming someone only you could want...

cynthia never really understood when people said, they "fell in love." to her, falling was an accident, something you don't want but have anyway — a burden. she much preferred to say she chose to love, with purpose and intention behind every thought and action. she always knew that when she did find love, it wouldn't be through a fall, but through a choice.

she chose to love you, how could she not? you'd grown up side by side, from cradles to cars, you'd always been there. you yelled at people who made fun of her and said you loved her hair. you balanced her out perfectly, her other half, the one thing that made her whole.

but now, hearing everyone get ready for the fall ball, she wondered if she'd made the wrong choice.

there was a guilt that stirred in her gut every time you looked at her with bashful eyes, full of joy from the lingering feeling of your lips on hers. there was a nagging in her mind that reminded her that no matter how good it felt, how good you felt, it wasn't normal. she couldn't explain it, so it mustn't actually be good.

but she had given you hope when she was dumped on your doorstep by the t-birds with drink on her breath and a half-apology in her eyes. when she kissed you the second you made it to your room. when she told you that she loved you, that she wanted you, that she always had.

you weren't one to be ashamed of what you believed in. in fact, for as long as she'd known you, cynthia couldn't remember one time where you stepped away from the chance to be brave and let your voice be heard. most people said you two were similar in that regard, she disagreed.

you see, cynthia was loud, she knew that, but you were proud. her words carried comic relief, while yours carried truth. she figured that's why everything was so hard for you now.

standing in your bedroom, chests heaving and eyes laden with tears. "what do you mean 'it was a mistake'?" you asked and cynthia's nails dug crescent moons into her palms at the crack in your voice.

"we shouldn't have- you know that." she swallowed around her words. her mouth was dry and she tasted bile. she didn't know which of you she was trying to convince.

"you don't get to say that. not after what you said the other night. it's not fair." there was a tremble as you spoke, and it took everything in cynthia to stick to her brain, to stick to what she'd seen her whole life.

"i'm sorry, but it shouldn't have happened. we're friends, girl friends. we shouldn't do that stuff."

"you said you loved me." the room ran cold and the air around you grew tense.

"i do! just... not in that way." her heart surged in her chest, as if it was trying to fight its way from her and take back everything she was saying.

a tear fell down your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away, taking a deep sobering breath. "i, uhm, i think you should go, cynthia."

cynthia. not cyn, or any nickname you'd given her before.

cynthia. a name she only ever heard you say when you were mad.

cynthia. the name of a stranger.

cynthia rolled her lips and sighed, scratching the back of her neck as if she was about to say something, to fight it, to fight for you. but she didn't. she let her hand drop back to her side and walked out of the room with a quiet "yeah."

for the first time since your friendship began, you didn't run to the window to make sure she got to her bike safely, as if something was lurking in the suburban bushes lining your front lawn. now you felt like you'd be sick if you saw her again, you felt a sob crawl from your throat before you could catch it, and once that passed, the floodgates opened and you sat on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands and tears on your sleeves.

as your shoulders shook, a small part of you hoped she could see you from the window to know how much she'd hurt you.

to you, cynthia was everything.

you had loved her from the moment you met her, a raggedy-haired prankster in kindergarten who spilled paint over one of the boys' shirts. when you made her daisy chains, you gave her your soul, and it stayed with her when the petals fell and the stalk wilted away.

she knew that. she knew, not just because you told her, but because she had eyes and could see the way you shone when she walked into a room. she could see the smile you couldn't contain when she made a horrible joke. she could see the downcast of your eyes when she put her arm around your shoulder in a diner booth.

she knew she had your heart in her hands, and she was cruel with it, burying you with your hopes and leaving without a eulogy.

when cynthia got home, she slammed the doors and screamed into her pillow. it was all too much. she was too angry, too sad, too hurt, too devoted to you.

she missed you already, nudging your foot with hers under the desk in chemistry, laying her pinkie finger over yours under the table at frosty palace, kissing your forehead under the blanket of night. she could feel the memories fade away, you shrinking away from her with hatred in your eyes. she could feel herself shrinking away too, at the mercy of the disgusted eyes of others.

but she had to do it because she knew you'd stay if she didn't. caring for her like a dog curled up at the foot of her bed, cynthia knew you'd accept her half-love, embrace her half-kisses, believe her half-truths. she knew you. she knew you'd take the bruising of her guilt and internalised self-hate. she knew herself. she knew she'd take it out on you, grow cold and callous.

besides, whatever lay between you two wasn't normal. the longing glances and the stolen kisses weren't something you should be doing together. not when shy guy looked at her that way, not when anyone could look at you that way.

she figured she was just dazed, giddy at the chance to love and be loved, that all sense had flown out the window. she was sure her sentiments would still be the same if they were directed towards someone else. maybe that's why her feet didn't drag as she walked to the phone and her voice was high-pitched when she asked him to the dance.

if someone had told you two weeks ago that you'd been dreading the fall ball, you would've called them crazy. your dress had been hanging in your wardrobe since september and your inspiration for your hair had been cut from a june-issue magazine. but now, when the night finally came and you sat at your vanity alone, you wished it was over already.

you hadn't spoken to cynthia in three days, having avoided her at every opportunity and, in doing so, avoided the rest of the pink ladies too. a part of you wished she was here now, sitting on the edge of your bed with bright eyes and countless questions, constantly in awe of you. but with a solemn glance at the picture frame to your left, the one where you were laughing with cynthia's arms around you, taken by jane on a random starry night, you remembered what she'd said and your face grew stoic again.

you stood up and smoothed out your dress, hugging your figure nicely in a deep emerald green. you gave yourself your best smile, taking a deep breath, and walking out the door for your father to drive you to the school.

"you meeting the girls there?" he asked. "mhm." you nodded with a tight smile. you could tell he didn't believe you, but for the sake of your peace and your dignity, he let it go. "have a good night, kiddo. call me if you need anything, yeah?" you smiled at him and kissed his cheek before bidding him goodbye.

you got to the door before your body froze, you willed yourself to move but anxiety rendered you paralyzed. "y/n?" lydia asked, concern in her voice as she walked up behind you. "are you alright?" you shook your nerves away, facing her. "yeah, just nervous." lydia furrowed her brows and gave you a short nod of understanding. she linked your arm with hers, leaning in to whisper to you, "me too." she winked. "let's do it together?" you beamed at her, squeezing her arm as you walked in.

the noise was the first thing you registered, tensing momentarily, lydia swore she could feel the anxiety radiating from you. "you look great tonight, by the way." she smiled to ease the tension. "so do you. i love the pin." you nodded to the heart on her dress and she lit up. "thanks." you could feel eyes burning into the back of your skull and when you turned around you locked eyes with cynthia. lydia followed your line of sight.

"go talk to her." "what?" "look, i'm not complaining that you and i have been hanging out a lot these past few days, but you're clearly happiest when you're with her." "but what about us doing this together?" lydia smiled at you warmly, nudging you forward. "go. i'm a big girl, i can take care of myself. find me if things go wrong, though, okay?" "yeah. thank you, lyds." she squeezed your arm once more, gently pushing you towards cynthia.

cynthia straightened up when she saw you walking towards her. "you look nice." you said, nerves lacing your voice. cynthia hesitated. "you really think so?" "i always think you look nice, cynthia." an awkward silence hung between you two, neither of you knowing what to say. "i missed you." she blurted out. "i missed you too." you were about to take it further, ask if you could talk in private, see if she really meant everything from that night. but then you saw something you never thought you'd see.

"hey, y/n." shy guy greeted, handing cynthia a drink and putting his arm around her. you tried to mask your shock. "hey! are you two...?" you trailed off. "together? yeah." cynthia butted in. "oh." you played with your hands, plastering on a smile. "well, uhm, have a great night, you guys. i've got to go but, uh, i'll see you around."

you walked away quickly, hastily brushing a tear from your face before anyone could see. "shit." cynthia cursed before following after you into the bathroom. "y/n—" she froze when your head snapped up, meeting her eyes through the mirror and mascara smudged around your eyes. "what're you doing here, cynthia? you're boyfriend's waiting for you." she sighed and bit her tongue. "i'm sorry." "for what exactly?" your words were sharp and uncaring. she didn't say anything. you turned around to face her.

"look, cynthia. i love you. i always have, and you know that. but right now, you're hurting me, and i have enough self worth to know that i don't deserve that. so until you're grown enough to admit to my face what you've done, we're done." her mouth hung open and she was about to object. "cynthia, i can't keep letting myself be hurt by people. i love you, i really do, but i can't be around you like this. it's too much."

she looked like she was about to speak again, but she saw the dead-set look on your face and knew she'd do no good at convincing you to stay. you cursed your longing and empathy when you wrapped your arms around her for the last time. "go have a good night with him." you managed to smile until she walked out the door.

when your legs stopped wobbling and you trusted yourself to blend into the crowd, you pushed through the door to find lydia, seeing her giggling with a pretty blonde across the hall. you tapped her shoulder. "i'm gonna head out." her face sobered in concern. "you want me to come with?" you looked past her to the girl looking at her with soft eyes. "no. stay here, have fun." you nudged her with a wink, laughing quietly when she flushed red. "i'll call you tomorrow for details." you promised before leaving.

when your dad pulled up, you could see the worry in his face, you could hear his unasked questions. "i don't want to talk about it." "i wasn't going to make you." understanding silence washed over you both as he drove you home. "i did have a feeling something was wrong, though, so i got you some ice cream on the drive back from dropping you off." he said after a few minutes. you smiled at him. "thanks, dad." he pulled into the driveway, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "anytime, kiddo."

it was well past midnight when a hurried knock came from your door, a bout of fear struck through you. you crept to the peephole and saw a disheveled cynthia looking at her feet. you opened the door. "what do you want? you could've woken my parents." she winced. "sorry. i just—" she let out a frustrated breath, fighting for her words. "i made the wrong choice." confusion spread across your face. "what?" "i was wrong. i lied. i'm sorry." she rushed out. "cynthia, what are you talking about?"

she started to pace back and forth at your doorstep. last week, when you kissed me, i told you i loved you—" "you didn't mean it like that, yeah i know." "no! no, i— i meant it. i meant it in that way, in the way nancy loves clothes and gil loves olivia." your palms grew sweaty. "then why'd you say it was a mistake? why did you go to the dance with shy guy?" she looked at you with a million apologies in her eyes. "i was scared. and i know that's not an excuse because you were too and i just left you, and i know i'll regret that for the rest of my life." she took a step closer and you let her.

"but right now all that matters to me is that you know that i love you. i love you more than i thought was even possible. i love the way you whisper me answers in math because you know i don't pay attention. i love the way your eyes kinda close when you laugh really hard. i love that i'm usually the one making you laugh. i love you for everything you are, and everything you aren't. for everything you've done, and everything you've yet to do. i love y—"

you cut cynthia off by grabbing her face and pulling her into a kiss, and in that moment, cynthia knew that this was what the poets wrote about. this was what drove artists made and carried people from war. this was what every sonnet and song was about. this was love. with your face in her hands and your lips pressed to hers, cynthia knew she would never need to make a choice again, because you were her definite, the one thing that would never change. cynthia knew you. she knew she'd never have to put up an act or pretend to be brave with you. she knew she'd never have to choose again. she pulled you impossibly closer as she smiled against you.

"i'm sorry." she panted when you pulled away to breathe, quickly chasing your lips again. "i'm so, so sorry." her desperation was clear in her broken words. "it's always g'nna be you. you're it for me."

you pulled away again, holding her face gently. "glad you finally realised." she laughed at your smile, moving to grasp your hands, holding them to her lips and pressing a light kiss to your knuckles. "i will spend forever making it up to you." you rolled your eyes.

"just kiss me again and we'll call it even." cynthia's face lit up and you swore you'd never seen her move so face as she gripped your waist and dragged you flush against her, swallowing your laughter with a kiss.

[ritz-writes]

@asleepyy so sorry for tagging u twice in one day and i hope im not bothering u with my brain rot 😅

but yes, i did actually dissect the lyrics. yes, i am actually insane. and yes, i love this au quite a lot.

here are my notes and what i think each song represents, tho its mainly just the vibes i get. i made notes as i listened to them (note: i see songs almost always in animatic form. idk if that will effect how i imagine what each song means, but i thought it might be worth mentioning)

join me as i lose my mind over the course of an hour and a half

say what you think: def making me think of them both in heaven and jophiel wanting to ask questions.

running up that hill: AHH this one hurt. very obvious as well. jophiel seeing that azazel shouldnt be a demon. "And if I only could I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get Him to swap our places." i am sobbingggg

what difference does it make?: at first i was going to say its jophiel wanting to figure out what went wrong but azazel makes them promise not to, but i think its better suited for azazel understanding hes a demon, but he cant help but still have faith in the almighty

please please please let me get what i want: fuckkk is this about azazel being a demon but still wanting to do good 😭 short but still painful

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've): my first reaction to the title alone was like the second image of the kambucha girl meme. anyway i think this one is about them becoming friends (or more?? 👀) but knowing its seen as wrong. "And if I start a commotion, I run the risk of losing you and that's worse" makes me also think of jophiel talking to the metatron and realizing he shouldnt ask about azazel lest he risk the poor thing being smited.

nothing critical: ohhhh this one gives hella vibes of jophiel not trusting heaven and knowing "something isnt right here" in regards to the fall-- HOLD UP "I know, someone had to go, If not him it'd be me instead" HELLO??? aziraphale asking for jophiel??? is this like after he finds out what azazels name used to be??

flowers never bend with the rainfall: hmm... i feel like this is a plot point song. not sure why. but "And I hide behind the shield of my illusion" makes me think it pertains to azazel

bird in space: oh this ones a bit tricky. i think ive reached the songs that no longer fit the lore we've been given thus far. so the only thing i can think rn is jophiel enjoying earthly pleasures? not rlly sure

angel, won't you call me?: oh fuckkk is this about a fight they have? "I fled at the face of my rival. When I felt his breath at the back of my neck. Angel, won't you call?" theres no way that isnt about azazel saying smth and then leaving, only to be scared he severed his tie to the only person thats been nice to him.

the stranger: first of this is a bop and im loving it. very groovy. the first thing that comes to mind is the "choose your faces wisely" prophecy. ooo is this about jophiel trying to convince azazel hes still meant to be an angel? that he wasnt meant to fall? also, the last verse is sticking out to me... not sure why

all i think about now: fuckkkkk this is giving me the vibes of jophiel finding out azazel Fell cuz of him and feeling guilty about it. "If I'm late, can I thank you now?" FUCKING OW?? oh yeah for sure this is about jophiel finding out and being sucker punched with guilt

ill be your mirror: oh goddd this song. i know crowley listens to this song but i cant remember what its about so lets see. AH SHIT YEAH THATS RIGHT. okay so jophiel reminds azazel that he is inherently good, regardless of if hes a demon. thats what im getting from this (also just tihnking of that ask i sent about the reflective sunglasses bthwjegkrw)

me and my husband: okay all im getting from this is "they r down bad". they r very very very much in love. getting vibes of this being after they stop the apocolypse. or maybe their feelings developing thru the centuries

time in a bottle: oh man this song always gets me. okay so, this and the last song r giving the oh-shit-i-might-be-in-love vibes. but this one is with jophiel's pov, while me and my husband is azazel's

ritz note: the last couple songs have been cute and lovey and i am now terrified of what the next ones r gonna be. cuz i know this fandom. and i am not ready for the pain. i am afraidddd

lonesome town: i fucking called it i knew the happy wouldnt last 😭😭 they had a fight didnt they. yeahhh they had a fight. FUCK why is this so sad but so pretty

across the universe: is this one sad too??? hang on theres a bit thats not in english, what does that mean... "Hail to the Heavenly Teacher." okay so i assume this is an azazel song. this is just making me think of the bookshop fire, but its azazel thinking jophiel died 😭 ....i am staring at the lyircs. i am glaring at the lyrics. this song MEANS something. i just dont know what. but its important. im squinting at it very hard (note: i came back to this song and am STILL glaring at it. its like. its like im seeing it covered in sand but i know theres gold underneath. i cant SEE the gold, but i know its there. this is driving me nuts /pos)

no wonder i: hm.. im not rlly sure with this one. OH?? is this azazel finding out heaven isnt that good?? "Suddenly I'm not so sure. That intentions can be pure." hmmmmmmm

what do they know?: holy shit okay this is a completely different kind of song than the others. im.... glaring at these lyrics too. feels like a plot point but cant tell what it is. i think its about jophiel? maybe heaven too?? idk im grasping at straws with this one

sea of love: oh yay a happy song again 😌 okay this is just short and sweet. gives me forgiveness and/or confession vibes.

who are you, really?: this one sounds important and i am glaring!! makes me think of "we dont need heaven we dont need hell" and also "a demon/angel that goes along with hell/heaven as far as he can". also just makes me think of jophiel speaking.

the moon will sing: i fucking love this song but i dont think ive ever looked at the lyrics so lets goooo. right away i see "I could have been anyone, anyone else. Before you made the choice for me" and think of aziraphale asking and falling for jophiel, and in a way making the choice of jophiel staying an angel. "Instead, I made a bed with apathy" jophiel trying not to care about a random demon. "I shine only with the light you gave me" jophiel giving azazel ideas on how to do "good" while being "bad". also with that line, thinking of azazel saying that to god and being sad about having fallen AUGHH i have a whole animatic in my head with this song and im losing my mind

matephor: hnnnn another important sounding song. jophiel vibes. fight song perhaps?? "Don't look too hard 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me" azazel vibes??? this one is elusive to me but i love it. okay im slowly getting more azazel vibes. like azazel trying to convince jophiel that he is a demon and fell for a reason

providence: right away getting "heaven and hell r bad" vibes. OHH okay okay this is giving me hella jophiel vibes, but specificly snarky and sassy jophiel vibes. of being like "oh yes heaven is oh so great, we kill children! but its for the greater good, of course. gotta beat hell and all that, even at the cost of innocents. all for the almighty and her ineffable plan." (this song is a bop omg)

earth angel: oh i know this one but only with crowley and aziraphale, so im excited to listen to it with an oopsie omens mind set. omg wait why does it hit HARDER. love sick azazel is such a cute image 🥺🥰

what more can i do: hmm.. them being in love but knowing its "forbidden"? cant tell who i imagine with it more

starman: this is just them. classic good omens song, regardless of the au. love to see it 💖

a pearl: AH FUCK ANOTHER SAD ONE. mitski whyy. hm.. azazel song? jophiel?? i think jophiel... tho my mind might be turning to mush at this point so im not sure. one of them is sad

duvet: oh def azazel vibes. oh maybe some jophiel vibes too?? i can see it swaping povs. i think it fits azazel more tho.

ritz note: OKAY the next song is in a different language and for a split second i legit thought i was having a stroke when i pulled up the lyrics ngl bgkewrrkjq

différent de toi: no idea what this song is about but its pretty 😊

oh thats all of them! i think the first half is more coherent observations, while the second half is just... rambling a bit lmao. idk if any of this makes sense. i might also be looking for things that arent there with these songs, but oh well. this was fun!

and now, after looking back at them all, i really does just slowly derail near the end lmao

[gaybananabread]

hellooo! for the fruit shop could you do pear + grapes with lee!miles and ler!hobie from ATSV? the idea I had in mind was that Miles would be stressed about being spiderman, and hobie would comfort him in his own special way (which would then include tickling Miles to pieces ofc) tysm!!

Fruit(s): Pears, Grapes

These two are incredibly fun to write for I swear- Miles would absolutely be one to way stress out over life, and I can see Hobie affectionately being a dork about it. Love how your brain works, Anon! As always, thank you for the request, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Miles

Ler: Hobie

Summary: Miles is falling behind due to his duties as Spider-Man and majorly stressing out about it. Hobie helps him calm down, as well as adding a special twist to make sure he's all cheered up.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Miles ran through the halls of Visions High School, racing to get to class…well, less late than he would've if he wasn't running. A few papers fell out of his binder, but he didn't stop. They weren't important anyway…probably. Extra copies exist for a reason.

He had run into two villains that morning; some weird bird guy and a rhino. The fight trashed his suit, ripping it in places and leaving him bruised up. Lucky for him, a good foundation can solve any problem.

When he finally burst into the classroom, his history teacher looked less than impressed. She pointed to his seat before continuing her lecture, silently letting him know to stay after class. Wonderful. 

Time seemed to crawl as he half-listened to the lecture, knee bouncing furiously beneath the desk. The bell finally rang, somehow sending both a pang of relief and dread into his chest. It had just been that kind of week. She approached his desk, sighing and leaning on it. 

“Look, Miles… I know you’re a good kid. You pay attention, don’t talk unless it’s appropriate, and write me apologies when you’re late or forget an assignment. What I can’t understand is what’s distracting you so badly that you’re late every day and write the same date on your papers for a week.” Her voice wasn’t judgemental; she just sounded tired and wanted to know what was happening. He could relate to that.

“I…I just got a full plate.” It was a lame explanation, but it was the best he had. She frowned, though it was a look of mild frustration rather than disappointment or anger. “Maybe you should try to clear it a bit. At this rate, that plate’s going to get so heavy that you won’t be able to carry it anymore. I don’t want to see your plate shatter, Miles. Think about it.”

That wasn’t so bad. He felt horrible for lying, but that icky ache was growing more dull with each fib. “But. You have been late to my class four times now. You know the rules.” His heart sank; four tardies meant a write-up and a call home. Not so bad to most, though he had no good way to explain himself. 

“I know there’s more to this, so I’ll be nice. You’ve got a choice. Either take the normal reprimand or write me a one thousand word report on the development of political institutions throughout American history.” Damn it…

-

Miles frowned down at his ever-growing to-do list, tallying up his work for the weekend. He chose the essay for his history teacher; he couldn’t get another reprimand. His body ached from the fight, his mind dragging as he tried to focus on the political article. The word “exhausted” felt like a gross understatement.

The teen was so out of it that he didn’t notice things floating around the dorm, nor did he see the lanky Brit that came out of the portal. He did, however, feel the arms that wrapped around him and lifted him into the air. “Ey, short man! What’cha mopin’ for?” The small shriek he let out shocked both of them. Hobie set the boy back down, frowning slightly. “Damn, you al’ight? You’re jumpy as hell.”

That look…he decided he hated it. The worried, slightly pitiful look made him feel crummier than he already did. But…he could actually tell Hobie what was bothering him. Hobie was like him; a part of their crazy, high-pressure world. Miles actually had someone to confide in. “Nah, not really…”

Hobie bit his lip, sighing at the simple admission. His friend looked…tired. Tired and sad. He’d have to fix that.

The punk brought Miles to his bed, laying him down and sitting beside him. Whenever his friends are upset, Hobie has a special way of cheering them up. Miles’s cheer-ups include a special step, one he never sees coming; it’s always clear he enjoys it though.

Hobie wrapped an arm around his friend, pulling him into a tight and comforting hug. “Hey, c’mon Miles. You can tell me anythin’, bruv.” Miles sighed, leaning into the hug. Finally, someone he can talk to… 

“Uh…it’s just been a lot. With Spider-Man stuff, school’s been impossible, and my teachers are gettin’ closer and closer to callin’ my parents. I dunno how I’m gonna explain it if they do…” His voice trailed off at the end as he buried his face in Hobie’s shoulder. 

The taller man rubbed Miles’s arm, trying to help him feel better. There wasn’t much that could be done for his situation unless he told his parents; that was only happening when he was ready. “”M sorry, Miles; that’s just rotten. If ya want, I could ‘elp with some’a those assignments. Was pre’y decent in school, long as it ain’t Maths.” 

His eyes lit up at the offer; he had to bite his tongue before he sounded too desperate. “Y-yeah, that’d be awesome! Only if it’s easy for you, though; I-I don’t wanna cause problems.” Hobie huffed, deciding it was time for the special portion of his cheer up session. 

A squeeze on Miles’s side cut off his half-apologies, his words ending in a squeal. “H-Hohobie? What’re you- nYAHAhahaha!” Miles shoved at the other spider’s hand as it poked and prodded at his side. Seriously, that?! He didn’t mind it, but still…

“Isn’t it obvious? ‘M cheerin’ you up, lil’ man.” Hobie smirked, moving to spider his fingers on Miles’s stomach. He squeaked, his giggles occasionally jumping up to choked laughter. “I-Ihihi dohon’t neheed chehehEERIHING UHUHUP!” 

The teen squirmed and thrashed, trying to get away from his friend’s tickly touch. He was trapped; Hobie’s strong, firm grip on his shoulders was inescapable, his evil fingers going to town on Miles’s poor belly. “Course ya do, yer all mopey. Those giggles suit ya much better than a frown.”

Hobie’s wiggling fingers went exploring, landing on the younger spider’s ribcage. His arms slammed to his sides, trying to stop that hand from going any higher. “HOHOHObiehehe! Ihi’m hahappy! Y-youhu can quihIHIHIT!” 

The fact that he didn’t outright say to stop only made the punk want to go on forever. It was clear he wanted a bit more; that blocked spot was quite enticing… The arm around Miles’s shoulders moving out front, gathering up his hands and holding his arms above his head. Hobie smirked, the lopsided look sending a flurry of butterflies to Miles’s stomach. “Brace ya’self, giggles~”

Not wanting to wait any longer, Hobie dug into his hollows, mining for all the laughter he could find. And laughter he got. “HOHOHOBIEHE! NAHAT THEHERE! NAHAHAHO!” Miles bucked and thrashed, almost knocking them both off his bed. Hobie got ahead of the mess, pushing him down onto the mattress so neither of them could get hurt. 

Loud, boisterous, almost childish laughter rang out in the dorm, almost definitely going through the walls to his “neighbors.” He wasn’t exactly hating what was happening, but it was problematic. It was hardly the worst noise that had ever come through dorm walls, though he was sure someone would call in a noise complaint. That thought made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “SOHOHOMEONE’S GOHOHONNA CAHALL SEHEHECURITYHYHY!” 

Hobie rolled his eyes, hating the logic; it was true, but he didn’t have to like it. He wasn’t ready to quit just yet. Instead of stopping completely, he moved his fluttering fingers to Miles’s neck. The boy’s raucous laughter calmed to sweet giggles, his struggling almost ending. 

Anyone who personally knew Miles could tell how adorably sensitive his neck was. Even the soft, gentle tickling had him giggling like a little kid. That person could also tell that he absolutely adored any attention on that certain spot; he practically melted.

Normally, he would’ve let Hobie continue with the gentle tickling. He had a lot of work, however, and was getting more and more tired with every giggle. Miles weakly tugged at his arms, whining through the sweet sound. “C-cohohome ohon! Plehehease?”

Hobie chuckled, seeing how tired the other spider was getting. “Bah, fine. Lucky I‘m feelin’ nice today, giggles.” He dragged a claw from Miles’s pit to his belly before stopping, giving his entire midsection a parting gift before he let go. Miles shrieked, curling up into a ball the moment he was released. 

The punk rubbed his back, chuckling softly. Miles flinched at first, thinking Hobie was going back for another tease. “Ey, I’m done, I’m done! Calm it down, Miles.” A small huff left his full lips as he looked over his giggly friend. “You al’ight, lil’ man? Didn’t go too far, did I?”

Miles shook his head, relaxing at the calming touch. “N-noho, you’re goohohod. Just…just tihickled.” That got a laugh out of the other hero; guess some things never change.

Once the teen had fully calmed down and regained his composure, the two got to work. Well, Hobie started on one of the essays while Miles finally got a much-needed nap and meal. After he got his rest, they both worked on assignments, music playing in the background to help them focus. Every so often, Miles would groan in frustration, earning him a quick and reassuring poke to the side. And you know what? He didn’t mind it one bit.

[mj3llyfish]

Fallen angel!Adam x Moth Healer!Reader

Chapter 3: The beautiful light

(Ch.1) (Ch.2) (Ch.3)

Warnings: Swearing, nightmares, cannibalism, and smoking

A/n: Just wanna thank all the peeps that were able to vote on the poll I made a few days ago <33 Had no idea what to do for the story so voting really helped me. Also this one’s kinda L O N G, I just had a lot of ideas for this part. (Also this song just reminded me of this fic listen to it PLS)

Adam’s pov:

Another weird ass dream, ever since I moved in this chicks hip-dip apartment I’ve been getting them. It’s mostly the day of the extermination, I can’t believe I didn’t turn back as soon as they started fighting back. Now I let everyone in heaven down, even Lute.

Whatever, I need to go wiz. I should probably stay quiet otherwise that butterfly bitch might wa-

Third dream pov (idk what to call it):

Before Adam can finish his thoughts, he looks towards the mirror, revealing his angel form but severely injured, and with a large gaping wound in his chest, surrounded by blood. Adam lets out a startled yelp, backing up against the bathroom door, awakening him.

Normal third pov:

Adam wakes up, startled at his new dream. He had still been lying on the couch, but his eyes wider than ever. He sits up, some of the leather couch sticking against his sweaty body, scratching the back of his head. The grey morning sky shined between the window blinds, he wanted to go back to sleep, but who could after a dream like that?

Adam rushes to the bathroom, quickly opening the door and turning on the lights, heading straight to the mirror. He gently touches his left horn, feeling a mix of relief but also disappointment that he’s back in his new body.

A lousy cough escapes his chapped lips, feeling that his throat is dry, and decides to get water from the kitchen tap, grabbing a mug and filling it up with water. Sure it tasted weird and warm, but he didn’t care. He chugged the nearly the whole thing in one sip, with some water spilling from the cup to his chin hairs. Adam slams the cup against the table.

Suddenly, a displeasing alarm goes off in the distance. He realizes that he’s not alone in here, what could that alarm be for tho? Y/n steps out of from her room still in her pajamas, yawning.

“Oh Adam!... What are you doing up this early?” She asks while heading to the kitchen. “I dunno man, just felt like it.” He responds in annoyance, “What are you doing up this early? You’re the one with the annoying ass alarm.”

Y/n rolls her eyes a bit while opening the fridge and taking out a box of frozen waffles, “I just have somethings to do today, so I thought I’d wake up early. I’m planning to pick up something from cannibal town.” She begins putting some waffles in a toaster while making herself a latte. “Gasp, you should totally come!!” Y/n exclaims excitedly.

Adam looks alarmed, offended even, and just stairs in confusion. “Y/n, why in the fuck, would I want to go anywhere, in this miserable place.” He says in a brutally honest manner. “I mean seriously, are you blind? Have you seen what goes on out there??” Adam pulls y/n to the window opening the blinds, revealing a guy getting his brains blown out.

Y/n cringes at the sight, “okay yeah it’s not great, but cannibal town is pretty enjoyable! Cmon you’ll see what I mean when we go there, plus you get to try out those wings of yours.” She says pointing at his scaly two scaly things, leading Adam to spread one of them a bit.

Y/n stares at Adam waiting for an answer, he sighs in annoyance, “eugh, fine I’ll go. Whatever means I can crash in here.” She then jumps in excitement, “Yess!! Also you’re going to have to pay at least half of the rent here if you wanna stay.” (He really thought 😭)

Time skip: 2hours

Adam waits on the couch waiting for y/n to finish up getting ready, y/n was lucky to find her old roommates clothes in his size. He has a leather jacket, along with black jeans and a Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt. He’s wearing the same boots he wore when he got here tho, he thought they’d look good with his jacket. Adam flinches at the sudden steps of y/n who just finished up, walking in the room.

“Sorry, I didnt scare you did I?” She says chuckling whilst brushing her hair. She had a long forest green skirt, along with a brown laced top and a cardigan that only reached her elbows. “So do you wanna fly or walk there? I can teach you how!”

Adam realizes, he has to pretend he doesn’t know how to fly, otherwise she might get suspicious. He assumes that since one angel has fallen, then there must be a shit ton. He can’t let her know that he’s the reason for the exterminations. “yeah, yeah totally totes you can definitelyteachmehowtoflymanandstuffhahahha” He rambles on while his eyebrows are furrowed and making finger guns to him, noticeably sweating his ass off.

Y/n notices this, then coming to a conclusion. “I know why you’re nervous, Adam..” She says gently, while looking up at him. Adam panics, nearly choking on his spit, “Ar-Ar you serious?”

“Yeah..

you must be afraid of heights!” She exclaimed happily, truly a eureka moment for this woman. Adam sighs in relief, the most unbearable relief anyone has ever felt. “I knew it from the moment I saw you, it’s always the tall ones.” She says shaking her head. “We don’t have to fly, Adam. It’s only a mile or two away, we’ll get there in no time!” Y/n adds picking up her messenger bag. “Now, let’s get going!” She says with a bright smile.

As they step onto the sidewalk, y/n notices that Adam seems a bit cautious. Normally when he was in hell it was to commit a massacre, not having to worry about a sinner hurting them because-well they couldn’t at the time. But now things are different, he’s one of them now.

“Relax,” Y/n starts, “just stay out of trouble, and stick with me. Oh and also watch your step, these guys are open to just taking a dump anywhere they’d like.”

The two begin to walk on the dirty sidewalk, y/n being extra careful about where she’s walking, but Adam doesn’t really mind stepping on a used condom or some junkies bag of coke.

“So, what’s it like up there?” Y/n asks, Adam gets alarmed at her question, stuttering a bit. “uuuUUP WHERE?”

“On earth! I heard that the sky is blue instead of red. And the animals there are not as scaly” y/n begins to stroke the soft hairs on her left wing, she was truly torturing this poor man. “How do the animals look here?” He asks, before y/n can respond,

splat!

A large red fleshy snake falls onto the ground, not really moving that much, just there. “I think that should answer your question” y/n then walks over the seemingly dead snake, while Adam does the same.

“So like, what do you guys do here all day?” Adam questions while sneering at the explicit posters causally displayed out in the open. “I mean, that depends on who you’re asking. Most people go on a rampage as soon as they get here, at least from what I see.” Y/n shrugs. “But sometimes you find a stable part of hell, or at least as stable as hell can be.” Adam becomes slightly intrigued about what she’s saying about hell. “Like, I work at a cafe around here. It’s nice but it’s a bit hard to keep up the wage when angels and demons wreck the place every now and then.” She says sadly, Adam feeling a wave of shame, that she has to live in constant fear while working because of others, and sometimes him.

Eventually, both y/n and Adam finally enter cannibal town. Adam being a bit wary, since he sees many familiar faces around the place, but not for good reason. Y/n then noticing, “Adam? You don’t look so good, is something wrong?” She questions. Adam begins to snap out of his cautious mode, “uhh, yeah?It’s not like on earth people are open to just eating each other out in the open-and NOT in the good way.” He scoffs, pointing to a gentlemen eating another’s guts out. “Oof, Rosie might wanna get that checked at.” Y/n says looking over at where Adam is pointing.

“And who the hell is Rosie??” Adam asks pretty loudly, “The mayor, but I’m sure she’s busy today. Anyways, I’m gonna go to the florist shop. Whole I go you can..” Y/n begins to look around, trying to find a place for Adam to get distracted, then finding a smoke store nearby. “-go to the smoke shop!” She suggests pointing nervously to the shop, hoping that her assumption wouldn’t offend him.

Adam stared at the shop for a bit, he had smoked before, but it was mostly when he was able to disguise himself as a human and go to earth. But he hasn’t done that in a while, last time he smoked he found himself passed out at the back of some hippies van. Ever since Sera made sure he was always watched whenever he went to earth.

“…yeah sure I’ll go smoke.” He submits. Y/n taking a breath of relief, “good! I’ll be in the shop if you need me” Y/n quickly gives him a nice 50, then going off to the flower shop.

Adam finishes his shopping trip pretty quickly, to be fair all he had was 50$ and the store was quite small. He just bought a bubbler and a pack of cigarettes, along with a lighter of course. He sits on a bench that had been between the two stores, then smoking one of the cigarettes.

He sat on that thing for at least 6 or 7 minutes. As he was sitting, he did notice that this place was nicer than every other part of hell. A bit weird to think about, how just a few days ago they were trying to kill each other. A huge gust of wind blows his cigar onto the floor, and into a puddle to his left. His attention is then drawn into the reflection for a few seconds, but he shrinks away from the pain of realizing he’s a demon now, and turns away closing his eyes.

After a good 9 minutes, y/n comes out with a woven basket of lavender, as well as candles with flowers inside of them. “Oh I took so long didn’t I?” She apologizes. “They just had a great sale on candles I couldn’t resist!” Y/n begins to sit down with Adam, hoping to rest a bit after standing round for a bit. “So, how have your last few days been down here?”

“Shitty. Do you have any eyeliner?” Adam replies manspreading, him being slightly slouched down. Y/n then scurries in her bag, hoping to find some. “I didn’t strike you as the type to wear eyeliner.” She chuckles, handing him the small stick along with a hand mirror. “What shape do you like putting it? I like a thin feline, it’s cute but basic.” Y/n shrugs, “Do I look like Jeffery star to you? I don’t know the fuckin species of eyeliner.” He laughs shaking his head giving himself a soft Smoke. Y/n laughs along with him, setting down the basket of lavender and candles between them.

“I got the lavender stuff for you.” Y/n says, Adam pauses, looking over at y/n. “…you’re not that smart are you?” Adam stares judgmentally, y/n taking lots of offense to his comment but keeping quiet. “Why do I need flowers right now? I don’t need a pity gift, especially if they’re some fucking flowers.” Adam scoffs. “No, they aren’t a pity gift or anything, I can tell you haven’t slept peacefully ever since you’ve gotten here.” Y/n removes a bit of the cloth on the basket to take one of the lavenders out. “These will be able to help you, I can make tea out of them and they’ll help you out. Or we can use the aromatherapy I got with it too, just in case you don’t like tea.” Y/n offers, she reaches over to gently grab Adam’s hand places it on hers.

“I know you’re going through a lot Adam. You don’t have to tell me why, but I need you to know that hiding your feelings wont do any good for you.” She explains giving a worried but weirdly comforting look at him, “so please, let me help you.”

Adam stares into y/n’s maroon and green eyes. He then feels as if a big weight of pressure left his chest, he’s never been able to have a person understand him like this. Especially when they don’t really know who he is. Tears slowly form in his red eyes, as y/n pulls him in for a hug. Feeling the warmth in her body made him feel safe in a way, that he could trust her. That she can always help him when he needs it. He didn’t know the exact words for it, but all he knew is that he hadn’t felt this way ever since Eden.

Adam’s dream pov:

Both Adam and y/n had gotten back to the house, it was a nice trip back since Adam finally trusted her a whole lot more. Once they got back y/n gave Adam some lavender tea, sure he would rather drink a cup of literal vomit than tea but he was desperate to sleep soundly for once. Hell, he could even sleep in jeans if we wanted to.

Adam practically throws himself on the couch, immediately going to sleep as soon as his cheek hits the pillow. He dreams of nothing but a void of darkness, as others do, but in that void he sees a familiar face in it, carrying a beautiful light with it. As the light came closer, it transformed into something Adam can only described as beauty.

He wasn't sure who it was tho, he's seen many women in his life, but he couldn't poke out who it was, only little things.The way she laughed, felt like small bubbles popping in his head. and her teeth coming from her smile, like beams of light, peaking through clusters and clusters of trees. And her eyes, oh her gorgeous eyes, like two pearls shining against the sunlight. Whoever it was, was truly gorgeous. But who was it?

Lilith?

Eve?

Lute?

No, it can’t be

You just met her..

Y/n? ♡

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick’s head was killing him.

He focused on that, not on the cage he was trapped in or the burning sensation under his skin or his dry throat or the useless panic button on a suit Dick wasn’t wearing, because he thought—foolishly—that he wasn’t in any danger as a civilian in Gotham in broad daylight.

One year in Bludhaven, and he’d apparently lost his self-preservation instincts.

They’d gotten him in the shadows of a dark alley, drugged him before he could put up a fight, and when he’d woken up, he’d been half-naked and shivering with a thick band of leather around his throat, duct tape across his mouth, and his hands bound behind his back.

Given time, Dick would’ve been able to slip through the ties, but then they’d dragged him out of the cage, injected him with something that burned, and ziptied his ankles too before he was thrown back in.

Whatever it was, it was fast-acting, and Dick’s general apprehension at being kidnapped slid to a sharper dread when he felt the needles prickling all over his skin.  It was going from uncomfortable to unbearable faster than he would like, and since he hadn’t told anybody of his visit, this was unlikely to have a swift ending.

Bruce was also out of town, which was the whole reason he was visiting in the first place, except if Bruce was there he would’ve promptly freaked out and checked whatever subcutaneous tracker he’d installed without Dick knowing and then Batman would’ve showed up to rescue him.

Dick tried again to get a grip on the zipties.  No Batman.  No distress signal.  No one who’d suspect he was in trouble until far, far too late.

His fingers slipped, too sweaty and dangerously weak.  Dick felt like an overcooked noodle and trying to shuffle forward, closer to the bars, made the world spin around him.

Not good, something pinged in the back of his brain, as a door screeched open somewhere in the warehouse.

“—to worry, our operation should be wrapped up by the end of the week.  Security should be minor—intel says that the Bat is out of Gotham—”

“There’s always a few birds flitting around,” a low, gruff voice said.  Dick instinctively tensed.  It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Well within your capabilities I would assume, sir.”

A grunt.  The booted footsteps were echoing in the large warehouse, sounding far away.

“There was, um, a minor matter with the issue of your payment—”

“What issue.”

“A slight shortfall in liquidity, sir.  We assure you, you will be paid in full, and to compensate you for the inconvenience, we are pleased to offer you one of our specimens.”

There was a stretching silence.  Dick was beginning to feel…itchy, but rubbing his cheek against his shoulder didn’t help.

“If I wanted a goddamn sex slave, I wouldn’t get one from Gotham.”  The derisive tone sparked another note of recognition, and Dick’s head was pounding but he registered the fear.  The knowledge didn’t come with it, not with the distracting pain, all Dick knew was that he should be very, very afraid.

“These are unique,” the milder voice said.  “Cultivated to show extreme sensitivity to touch.  All have already been given our cocktail, and can be activated with a second dose.  You can choose whichever one you like.”

“Perks of the job, is it.”  The voice was sardonic.

“Given the lack of need for training, we have a surplus of supply.  As long as your demands aren’t…unreasonable, we can accommodate them.” 

His skin felt like it was buzzing.  Like there was a static field just above its surface, and no matter which way Dick twisted, it wouldn’t go away.  He couldn’t help the wordless snarl of frustration.

He was getting distracted.  He needed to get out.  Dick tried again to grip the zipties.

“How many do you have?”  The footsteps were getting closer, moving between the rows of cages.  Several were empty.  The few that were occupied had occupants slumped over or curled into a corner.  Dick could hear ragged breathing and quiet whimpers, but nothing more.

The drugs.  Extreme sensitivity to touch.  That didn’t sound like anything good.

“Twenty or so, currently.  Are you looking for anything specific?”  There was only a noncommittal hum as the two entered his row.

The cages were low to the ground and all Dick could make out was about three-quarters of their legs.  Both wore boots, both had thigh holsters, one of them was significantly more armed than the other judging by the—

Orange.

They had orange detailing on their boots.

Dick inhaled sharply.  It could just be a coincidence.  Maybe they were common boots.  Maybe they weren’t what Dick was imagining, what Dick was dreading, but it was too late, the pieces were already beginning to click into place.  The voice that Dick now recognized, the infamous color scheme, and the way the man stopped at Dick’s sudden, sharp breath.

The man crouched until he could see through the cage and Dick met a one-eyed, two-toned mask with sinking despair.

Dick held perfectly still.  Maybe he wouldn’t be recognized.  Half-naked and bare-faced was certainly not a common look of his, and his general dishevelment and the binds would contribute to the unfamiliarity.  He could not be recognized.  He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he was.

“Mr. Wilson?” the mild voice asked.  “Is this the one you would like?”

“Yes,” Deathstroke replied.  “Yes, he is.”

Dick had just enough presence of mind to scramble back when the cage was opened, but all his muscles seemed to be moving on a delay, and he couldn’t stop the other man from reaching in and grabbing him by the ring on his collar and dragging him out.

“It’s to keep sensation from his skin,” the man explained—Dick noticed that he was wearing gloves as he brought out a syringe.  Dick tried to writhe away but the man held him easily in place as he injected the syringe in.  “He’ll be absolutely desperate for it soon.”

Deathstroke just watched as Dick futilely cursed the man behind his gag.  This drug burned even hotter, like he’d been injected with lava, and soon Dick was trembling all over, writhing even harder with the urge to claw his skin off.

“There,” the man said, voice still mild but eyes flashing cold and cruel.  “Yours, to do with what you like.  Your shift starts at seven, you are free till then.  If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Dick was beginning to feel lightheaded.

“I think I’ll manage to figure it out,” Deathstroke said, and there was a hand on Dick’s shoulder now.  Dick’s muscles locked up, his focus narrowed to the burning point of the warmth of the grip.

Dick wanted to run.  Dick wanted to scream.  Dick wanted to—lean further into that grip, get closer, feel more—

He went ice-cold underneath the increasingly painful heat.

Extreme sensitivity to touch.  Dick thought that meant—pain, jumping at the slightest of flinches, not this burning desire to be close to someone, a yearning, buzzing need to feel human touch.  Not something that twisted up his control until he moved easily with Deathstroke’s manhandling, looking up at the mercenary and not even trying to get free.

“This collar suits you,” Deathstroke said quietly, “little bird.”

There went Dick’s last hope that all of this was just an unpleasant coincidence.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Yandere!Toji Fushiguro x reader

Trade off

So i accidentally deleted the toji ask like an idiot im really sorry anon bestie:( you tried. I just failed. 

Prequel and if enough ppl like it ill finish the fic i just wanna see how this does 

(Yandere, breaking/entering, attempted plan to murder, etc, etc idk) 

Living near the countryside has desensitized you to the thumps and crashes you’d hear at night. In the beginning you’d be paranoid, laying in your bed for hours before gathering the courage to step out of the room, trusty bat in hand, only to find a stray cat staring back, right beside an open window. Nowadays, you’re coolly shooing away whatever creature that finds their way in your home. Mostly it’s cats, sometimes you’d get the occasional bird or racoon. 

The situation has happened so many times that you aren’t even surprised to hear the soft rattle that comes from your kitchen tonight. You’re already moving, rousing from your soft bed, grabbing your trusty broom ready to scare away whatever creature you’d find scurrying about your kitchen floor. A rat, most likely. 

But the thing rustling through your fridge is no rodent, and you don’t recognize this man. 

It doesn’t occur to you that you’re being robbed until half a second later. Mainly because of how casual this bizarre situation is. He’s rifling through your food like it’s normal and you’re the weirdo carrying the broom. 

“Damn, there’s nothing here. Do you not eat or something?” 

You assume he’s thinking out loud, but he glances back at you like he expected you there. 

“I-I haven’t gotten the chance to go shopping this week,” You find yourself replying. 

He gives a hum, slamming the fridge shut, standing to his full height and you’re instantly aware of how ill-prepared you are to fight him. He’s huge, not just in height. He looks better fit for a bodybuilder than a run-of-the-mill robber. 

You left your phone upstairs. Why the fuck did you leave your phone upstairs? 

You lower your broom, trying to make yourself seem as little threatening as you can. Your mind is running too fast to conjure any real thoughts, but the part of you that hasn’t completely broken down yet is telling you it’s better to avoid any confrontation. A distraction. 

“There’s a TV in the next room,” You numbly point towards the living room, “It’s brand new….would probably go for a thousand.”

He barely seems interested, eyes flicking to glance over before going to you. 

“That’s nice,” He waves your offer off, “But I’m not here to steal your stuff.” 

“You’re…you’re not?” You reply weakly. 

There’s a grin on his face, a touch away from being maniacal. His hand is brushing his hip, lightly playing with the hilt of a gun.

Oh. 

Maybe it’s because you’re still half asleep, your brain isn’t working as efficiently, it takes you a bit longer to process his intentions. When it finally does, the realization hits you like a train. Your mouth gets dry, it suddenly feels so cold. Fear. You’ve never felt fear like this before. 

You don’t notice the steps you take backward. He does. The man groans in something you can only discern as annoyance. 

“Don’t do that,” He frowns, “Come on, I’m trying to be nice here. I can’t chase you around the house, I'm supposed to make it look like an accident.” 

His nonchalance is terrifying. Like he’s done this before. He probably has. How many people has he murdered in their own homes? How many bodies does it take to be so calm around imminent death? 

You don’t have time to wonder, not when something he said catches your attention. 

“Were…were you hired to come here?” 

His mouth twitches and it looks like he’s thinking. Finally, he shrugs, like the information he gives won’t really do anything to harm him. 

“Yeah, some rich folk in the city. Can’t remember their names for shit though.” 

Someone had a vendetta against you? Enough to want to kill you? Your mind is running through every single name, every quarrel you’ve had. Family members, friends, acquaintances. Nothing enough comes up. 

Nothing is supposed to. Only crazy people hire hitmen. 

And hitmen are even crazier. 

You take another step back.

He takes another forward.

(End of prequel)

[deathrooteater]

Assorted Bloodborne Headcanons

-Gehrman, before the Dream, was a certified bird watcher.

-Ludwig had only dueling experience before Byrgenwerth. Gehrman taught him how to fight dirty by making him eat dirt.

-Simon sees himself in hares, and as such, loves them. If having a non-practical pet was possible in Yharnam, he would have adopted a hare in a heart beat.

-Elaborating on the non-practical pet thing, since we only see dogs and snakes as pets, I fully believe only animals with practical applications (such as a dog's hunting skill) are allowed in Yharnam since the Beast Scourge started.

-Cats do still exist in Yharnam though. They're just sneaky.

-Laurence is the sole reason cats haven't been banned, saying that they can still hunt rats (as if the rats aren't bigger than the cats). He just wanted to keep his own cat.

-Micolash was fascinated by marine wildlife even before Byrgenwerth. He is very autistic about octopuses.

-Rom was the same but for bugs. If she lived in the modern day, she would have had a spider bugsona, complete with expensive fursuit (with functional extra legs!).

-Kos and Flora (Moon Presence) used to be lovers. They parted on bad terms, but Flora still has a thing for Kos (even if Kos is, well, dead).

-Brador likes annoying people. He likes seeing them seethe with rage. Absolutely an internet troll kinda guy.

-Adella is bi but repressed as fuck. She also has a crush both on the Good Hunter and Arianna, but between the Night of the Hunt being as it is, the Amygdala on the roof of the chapel and her own issues, she ends up turning murderous.

-If Adella had asked, Arianna would have taken her virginity in a heartbeat.

-Gehrman doesn't love the Doll, but he also doesn't hate her. He understands she didn't ask to be given life. He also hates himself for dressing his doll of Maria in feminine clothes, and for even making the doll in the first place; he did it because he wanted to imagine Maria in a more peaceful life, but between his badly processed grief and the Bad values of the time, he fucked up Bad.

-Ludwig is trans, though he hasn't been able to get anything to transition. He just bears the dysphoria, though it did get better when he started presenting more masc and people started referring to him by he/him.

-Gehrman, Ludwig and Brador are Laurence's harem (half joking).

-Laurence is gay as fuck, which means he once laughed at a woman who declared her love for him (she dodged a bullet there).

-Djura likes drawing in his free time.

-Eileen fucking hates the feeling of blood and grime on her skin. It is part of the reason her garb covers everything.

-The Brain of Mensis was formed from the fused bodies and consciousness of the Mensis Scholars (sans Micolash and Edgar) fusing with a Winter Lantern.

[beanghostprincess]

Tumblr crossed soul mates yessssssss you have the BEST opinions and dropping asks here is so much fun and really it's the highlight of my day.

Shanks trying to get flirting advice from the crew, specifically Roger, is both so in character and absolutely hilarious. Like. Dropping my own headcanon here, but I feel like Rouge was probably ALSO a badass of a woman, and so Roger's type is women who could destroy me. Shanks has the same taste, plus a little extra friends-to-lovers trope seasoning for extra Flavor. Crocus is just off to the side, either NO help or equally as bad. Rayleigh is certain he's going gray already bc of the Shenanigans.

Imagine for a moment that Shanks keeps Not Being Clear. He thinks he's being OBVIOUS, but Buggy, while Suspecting Smth, isn't gonna make it easy on him (she also is terrified to be misreading things and refuses to take that chance. She talks mad shit, but Shanks is her PERSON. Of course she loves him, of course he's her soulmate, her beloved, her bst friend, her comrade, of course of course of course. But she'd rather remain best friends and pining inside than risk losing him at all.).

It comes to a head when they have their Regularly Scheduled Whitebeard V Roger Fight.

((Insert a crack ship here but-)) Maybe, after the battle, during the cool down, this time around there's no Teach to set Buggy's instincts off. Maybe Marco, just a few years the cabin kids' senior, has Noticed Buggy. Maybe the Phoenix is preening and fighting weird, sudden instincts and is so absolutely FLUSTERED by it. Maybe Buggy is, in turn, flustered or flattered by the attention - maybe she even misconstrues it.

Marco is letting Buggy look over his books, is offering her his hand when boarding or stepping off a ship - either ship, mind you - is sharing his food, is shouldering others aside to give her something Shiny and Pretty, is attentive to if she shivers, if she sweats, offers her comfortable places to sit, is just.... in her orbit.

And Shanks does not like that, not one bit.

So he's in a Mood, as one would expect of a jealous teen boy, no matter his general disposition.

Others have noticed by now, the intense glaring matches between Marco and Shanks are shooting over an oblivious Buggy's head. She's just too excited by treasures, fabrics, textures and books to care much about the boys - until the evening.

Marco invites her to read together by the firelight, a blanket in one arm. She's tempted - he has a few books on constellations that she's debating lifting from their dusty shelves, and so few on the Oro Jackson enjoy reading the way she does.

But then a hand hooks decisively on her waist. Suddenly, Shanks is beside her, arm around her, holding her, pinning her, to his side and chest as he shoots what may generously be called a smile at the zoan devil fruit user.

"Buggy is capable of speaking for herself, Red-yoi."

"Oh, she is! Absolutely, I'll never cast doubt on that. She's spirited, alright. But ya know something, bird brain?" His eyes darken, smiled falling. "She's mine."

"Is she now?"

"If she wants to be - I won't force it. But watch your hands. Don't get so touchy with my Buggy."

"Stay in your lane, Shanks-yoi."

And suddenly the hand on her waist is gone. Suddenly Shanks is gone. Suddenly there's a brawl, right there, and Buggy is left gaping as her brain works on overdrive.

Half the assembled crews are drunk and cheering them on, a good chunk are asleep or off wandering, but Buggy is soon swept into the safe cocoon of Toki's arms, tucked to her side.

She is transfered to Roger, to Rayleigh, taken home and calmed down because the fragile, precarious structure she has assembled now has become full of unknowns. She's losing her mind over it, but more than that, she's fighting a desperate hope that she hates herself for having.

Shanks can do so much better than her, she tells herself.

The boy in question comes staggering in soon after - he was pissed at Marco, sure, but he noticed when she started panicking, when she began floating, when she was gone - and he came for her. He came as quickly as he could.

And he apologizes. "I shouldn't have called you mine."

Her chest feels like it's been stabbed.

He continues without hesitation. "You're your own person. You're too bright and smart and strong and awesome to just be some guy's girl. You're Buggy, and my feelings for you shouldn't ever take that away from you."

"What..."

"Mm?"

"What are you feelings for me?"

And they cry that night. They yell, and scream, and cry, and laugh, and when they fall asleep, it's tangled together in his hammock, her head resting on his chest and his grin buried in blue curls.

Marco and Shanks, both as adults, still have a semi-playful rivalry going on where they're down to throw hands at the drop of a hat, but it's all in good fun. They still sometimes argue over Buggy, but it's mostly to get her to blush, cackle or yell at them - usually, all three, though not in that order. Marco calls her "the one that got away" and makes the melodramatic "sometimes I can still hear her voice-" comments if only bc it makes people either laugh, groan, or get absolutely flabbergasted.

He was invited to their wedding.

AAA I'm so glad you're having fun sending the asks because I have so much fun reading your ideas <33 They're just SO good.

This is all PERFECT. Rouge was definitely a badass of a woman and somehow Roger managed to date her. Somehow. He doesn't know. He thinks he knows. He doesn't. And his advice isn't really that helpful for Shanks, ngl. He's just left without knowing exactly what to do to win Buggy's heart, but at least he can talk to Roger about it.

And,,, The Marco thing,,, The jealousy,, Especially with the rizz this man has, honestly, Shanks is righteously feeling intimidated. He's older than them and he's hotter. He looks more mature and calm and he reads and does those things Buggy enjoys. He makes her laugh, too, and Shanks is furious because he should be the one making her laugh!! It's not only that it makes him mad, but also, it makes him feel insecure about himself and his abilities. The thing is, Marco makes Buggy feel comfortable and appreciates her a lot, but he isn't Shanks. She thinks that Shanks doesn't feel the same and she won't confess either because she's scared of ruining their friendship. So Marco is the best option here, right? She should settle for him. But he isn't Shanks. And Shanks knows he doesn't have any right to claim Buggy or whatever, but this is pissing him off a lot. Both of them being stupid and feeling insecure about the other's feelings is so good,, And then they talk things out, of course, because Shanks shouldn't have said those things, but also Buggy did like it. Kind of. The fact that he was so protective of her. And that night they finally confess and kiss for the first time and it's just so good-- They laugh and whisper sweet nothings between kisses and it's the first time they do it but it feels so right. Buggy thinks about them being soulmates, but Shanks is the one to say it out loud.

And ever since, Shanks and Marco have had this rivalry and nobody knows exactly why because they never tell people about it. But it's just so hilarious to see them bicker for something that happened years ago. Every time Buggy remembers that, her self-esteem goes higher and higher, so at least she gets something good out of it.

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week: Day 3

Prompts: Angst / Kai Recs! *aka the best combo ahahaaaa*

Angst Recs (get ready for a lot of Wu being sad):

The Tale of the Teacher: BASICALLY a look at Wu's very tragic life through the eyes of Wu himself, and my personal inspiration for all things, well, Wu and tragic (and you do need to be logged into an Ao3 account for this one). A must-read for all Wu fans, and especially for those who are not~

Photographs: Wu reminiscences on all he's lost in the midst of Season 11 through pictures of times gone by~

No Eye For These: Wu reflects on losing his brother, right after just banishing him ;w;

It Will Rain Again Someday: Not necessarily angst but fills me with enough emotional damage to feel like it is, Wu adores his older brother so so so so much, even when they butt heads, even when they have opposing but equal opinions, even when they're on opposite sides of the battle field...probably the most potent Spinjitzu Brothers thing I've ever read. Changed my brain chemistry, man.

for want (for nothing): the staff corrupted!kai story that speaks to me very specifically snksnksnk Reading the gradually (or not so gradually) descent into enveloping himself in all that power is maddening and awesome and so very painful

Cry Me a River: Kai Post-Seabound; short, bitter, visceral, and powerful in the deliverance of emotions~

Married to the Sea: In case anyone wanted to relieve the pain that is Seabound's ending again, but with a Jay-colored coat of paint <3

half hearted-boy, maybe we'll have more connection: GUT-WRENCHING thing on parallels b/w Lloyd and Harumi. I am not the same person i was before. Tragedy does not have an age limit.

Kai Recs:

All I've Ever Known: One of the best kind of fics- Kai having to cope with team bonding during the events of the pilots <3(I have very obvious tastes). But! Has a lot of introspective Kai moments and outrospective (?) moments with him and the future team he's one day never going to imagine a time without.

Spice, and Everything Nice: Kai, in both a show of brotherly love and brotherly pride, attempts to outdo his siblings in a test of all things spice and chocolate. It's just so cute aaaaaaa!!!!

Bonfire: Lloyd wants to make a fire, Zane tries to offer suggestions, and Kai makes it personal. Slice of Life fic that would have made for a nice little episode during Season 2, honestly! And a nice look at the characters outside of their normally hectic settings~

Flicker: A story about Kai and the warmth he brings to himself and others, doesn't seem like much at first but you will be gutpunched by love and softness by the end~

Bucket List: In the category of angst and Kai with probably a guilty pleasure fic of mine, Kai strikes a deal with Morro and a horrifying journey of self-discovery ensues. It get a little dark but it's funny, gripping, heart-wrenching, and will probably have you looking at Kai in a new light by the end of it.

N Stands for Neutral: Kai teaches Lloyd to drive, chaos ensues, nuff said

Why Birds Fly: Probably not for the squeamish around eggs, insects, or ear-related agony (it's not nearly as bad as I'm making it sound I promise just being cautious) BUT another non-life-threatening crisis story that has an amazing dynamic between Kai, Cole and Jay, and their tendency to be both the best brothers you could ask for and the absolute worst.

The Process of Making Amends: Kai and Garmadon butting head and it's goes about as well as you'd expect....but, there is one thing they can reach a consensus on.

Going, Going, Gone: Vintage Classic on kai's take on Skylor throughout Season 4. Definitely Kailor, but also not exactly "shippy". It really is more of a character examination in the form of lil snippets and it lives in my mind rent-free.

From What It Was: Kai reflects on all the changes in the team post-s7. It makes me misty-eyed every time ;w;

Kai and the Futile Fist Fight: Anyone wanna see Kai and Jay have a real fight during Crystalized, with 50% more awesome fight moves and 50% more raw emotion and 100% more Kai being distressed over his sister in his own way? Here ya go!

"Mr. Smith" At Your Service: Kai pretends to be Nya's father. Nya gets far too much of a kick out of it, and it goes about a well as you'd expect snksnksnk

broken pieces: More Pilots!ninja bonding, short and sweet and ofc with a special focus on Kai! Left a very big impression on me, haha

this isn't how it's supposed to be: MOAR PILOT BONDINGGGGGGG and UNGH it's so BEAUTIFUL, especially love the character dialogue in this one!

[adelaidedrubman]

every fucking wednesday huh

tagged today by my dears @socially-awkward-skeleton and @direwombat to share something for wip day!

on this second nanowrimo wednesday (boo!) i give you a VERY rough excerpt of a hl&s scene i had envisioned in my mind’s eye for quite some time and banged out during the early november sprint before i immediately lost steam. very sloppy and very long (as always no pressure to Read All That) but here is a bit of jessie answering john’s questions about what is so special about fishing

“Everyone who actually has to live in the real world finds some way to kill all that angry static buzzing around in their brains. Something that sets off that click —” she snapped her fingers, then curled the hand back into a tense fist, “that shuts it all down to go peaceful for a while, without just making you feel dead. Lotta folk turn to drink. Real simple folk find the Lord. Me?”

She smiled, huffing out a gentle, breathy laugh.

“I go fishing.” The calm she had described now belatedly slipped into the even pace of her words. “Because everything about the world that pisses me off, fishing is the exact opposite. It’s a challenge. A battle of wits. You gotta work to catch a fish — real work, not just doing shit because somebody decided you gotta to take home a paycheck. With fishing, you gotta think, you gotta feel, you gotta use your hands. Stay alert to every little movement in the water. Know what’s gonna catch a fish’s eye, and have the skill to do it right. Know how to think like a fish. Appreciate ’em so you can lead ’em to their doom. Feel the tension in your muscles as you fight against a big one on the line. Your heart racing at the thrill of finally reeling it in. You’re using your brains and your body to wrestle for control with the fish — and if you do it right, you actually get it. It’s work, but it’s also —”

Her fist unclenched, tension easing from her shoulders.

“Calming,” she concluded, almost under her breath. “It’s so simple, but you’re accomplishing something. You’re part of the world around you, and for once it all means something. For once, it’s not a world I hate being in. It’s a world that’s just the sun beating down on your back, the wind in your hair, the sound of water beating against the dock. And beneath all the equipment and technique, it’s just you and the fish. It’s engaging, but peaceful. Fishing is —”

She looked down at her feet, her nose crinkling with an almost lazy, half-hearted irritation. “When I’m fishing, I feel real. I feel free,” she said softly, resolutely. “You wouldn’t fucking get that.”

John didn’t bother to hide the way he slowed his stride this time, nor the way he looked at her — drawing in a deep breath before coming to a complete stop, then turning to face her. He allowed himself a moment to rake his eyes along her profile, bask in the sense that he was truly seeing her for the first time — all that high-strung energy, all that barely contained fury packed into the tense ridge of her jaw, begging for release.

“I get it more than you would ever know,” he told her, heart pulsing an extra beat at the responding jitter of starlight glittering golden eyes towards him, before she stubbornly looked away again. Such a fragile flutter, a baby bird’s wings just beginning to beat against its breast.

Human — she was so undeniably human. In a way most people weren’t, in a way that managed to burrow itself down to that deepest, most difficult to reach part of his soul that was still soft and warm and a place where joy could spread. A place someone could nestle into and make a home. As if she’d snagged her fishing line at the depths of the lake, and managed to hook a long-lost sunken treasure.

“It’s exactly how I feel when I’m flying,” he explained, looking up towards the skies. “It requires complete concentration. If my focus slips for one moment — if there’s a single shift of the wind I fail to account for, I could go hurtling to my death. Just as easily, send every sin —” He caught himself, “...single person beneath me to theirs. I hold all that destruction within my grasp. I’m powerful. I’m in control. I’ve bested fate.”

He paused, finding only the slow building chirp of crickets filing the silence — for once, she wasn’t interrupting him, wasn’t rushing to fire back some clever insult. For once, she was hanging off his every word.

And looking at him. Hard as she tried to hide it — tucking her chin down and pressing her ear near towards her shoulder as she twisted at the waist to face him without facing him, the lingering of deepening tawny at the corner of her eyelids betraying her facade of detachment.

“But more than that…” He dared to take a step towards her, to turn himself so they were just a sliver closer to facing each other directly. “When I’m up in my plane, I feel —” A smile. One that felt natural spreading across his face. A smile just for her, the kind of smile he so rarely ever got to give — one given knowing that the person on the receiving end of it would actually understand why he was smiling. “Free. The world and every horrible thing in it is miles away from me — and if I want to, I never have to come down without bringing hellfire with me. When I’m up there, nothing can reach me.”

He dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. “I’m in control, but I’m free.” He let the revelation settle in the air between them — it was odd, he didn’t know if he would have ever been able to vocalize it so clearly, without her. “There are very few things in this world that can really give you that feeling.”

Jessie lifted her jaw — so strong, so proud, always. Imposing enough it had caused him all this time to overlook just how delicate her features really were. Those soft, rosy lips; her round little button nose; those wide doe eyes framed by darling doll lashes, taking him in so fully.

Yes, there it was — her eyes met his, she was looking at him.

It was just as he’d dared to hope. She saw him, she saw everything.

He was seen, and she kept looking.

She stepped closer. Her eyes trailed along his face at a leisurely pace. She finally blinked, slowly, but never looked away.

She inhaled, deeply, her eyes not wavering as her chest rose.

“That’s nothing like fishin’, dumbass,” she said decidedly, craning her neck back and shaking her head back and forth, as if in complete disbelief at just how ridiculous his statement was. “Flying planes is a dumb rich people hobby,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, looking back over her shoulder at him as she walked past him in the vague direction he’d been leading them. “Those aren’t the fuckin’ same.”

sending no pressure tags out to @unholymilf @belorage @florbelles @g0dspeeed @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @quickhacked @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano + anyone with things to share + opt in here!

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - 7th Year

Rated: 18+

Warnings:  cursing, being overworked, exiling yourself from your friends. 

Author’s Note: it has come to my attention while re-playing the game that I’ve been spelling Garreth wrong, in my defense autocorrect also thinks its “Gareth” so I feel like I should have a pass.

Little Bird Masterlist

I took my sweet time getting ready that morning, brushing my hair and teeth meticulously before putting on my robes and leaving for breakfast. I’d hoped that by dragging my feet the dining hall would be mostly empty and I could just swipe a few things before going to class. 

Of course - I was not that lucky, Sebastian was standing outside of the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

When he sees me talk out the door he stands up straight, moving his bag filled with his school supplies to his other shoulder. “I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”

“Running late.” I mumble, not completely over the fight we’d had the evening before. 

Sebastian easily keeps up with me as we walk down the stairs, “I needed to apologize.” He says and I blush, “I was the one who set the Undercroft on fire.” I sigh, embarrassed by my outburst. 

“I deserved it. I had been pushing you too hard and I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, grabbing my arm so we stop walking down the stairs and he can turn to face me. “I’m sorry, Bird.” He says and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I hate when we fight.”

Fighting seems to be the only thing I’m good at lately. 

I want to give in, just squeeze him around the middle as tightly as I can and say it’s all water under the bridge, but his face last night, the pure fear in his features was burned into my brain. I’d never forget it. 

“Sebastian.” I sigh and pull back. “I just. I’m running late, okay?”

“No.”

“What?” 

“I said no, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay until I’ve made up with my best friend.” God he’s so fucking stubborn. 

“We’ve made up, Seb. We’re fine. I just really am running late today.” I lie. “I told Professor Weasley I would meet her before lessons started today and I’m afraid won’t make it in time.” 

“O-Oh.” He says, not really able to argue with that, even though I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it. I don’t often lie to him, and it’s making me feel a little sick.

“Maybe we can have lunch? Or do a dinner with the little beasties, yeah? Ominis hasn’t been bothered by the Nifflers in some time. I think we could go for a laugh.” He suggests, pulling at threads.

“Yeah.” I give a half hearted smile. “Maybe we’ll do dinner.” With that as my farewell I turn and start taking the stairs as quickly as I can without breaking out into a full run, and head to a floo flame. 

To make myself into less of a liar I do go toward Professor Weasley’s classroom. Ever since Fig had died my fifth year, she’d become my confidant. She’d been a tremendous help my sixth year when I was stressed out about school, about trying to rebuild my friendships after everything. 

I slip into her classroom and move to the back, knocking on the door. No one was waiting in the room so I assume she didn’t have a class this period. 

She calls for me to come in and I crack open the door, walking into her pristine office. She was always so put together in my eyes, well for someone who was practically running the school without the title of headmaster. “Good Morning, Professor.” I smile lightly at her and she gestures to the little sitting area sitting by a window. “How nice to see you, how has your term been so far?”

I felt the immediate urge to lie, to tell her that everything was alright, that my year was going beautifully. I didn’t want her to think I was failing, but at this point I wasn’t sure what much of an option I had. 

As soon as I opened my mouth the floodgates broke. I told her about me struggling in lessons, about not being able to contain my magic, or stop myself from fighting with my friends. My the end I had fully lost control of my emotions and I was just sobbing into the sleeve of my robes. 

“Oh deary.” She sighs and comes around to sit on the same couch as me, putting her hand around my shoulders and rubbing my arm comfortably. “And on top of all of it.” I sob. “I’ve got bloody boy problems.”

She lets out a laugh that breaks me from my train of thought. “I know it seems silly, given the rest of it, but really these boys are driving me mad.” I giggle a little, wiping the tears off my face, taking deep breaths to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they never get better.” Professor Weasley smiles. “I didn’t think so.” I sigh. 

“Does one of these mad boys happen to be my nephew?” 

I blush, answering her question for her. “I can tell him to leave you alone if you wish.” She smiles kindly and I shake my head. “No! No- I think he’s actually quite... charming.” God was this awkward to talk about with his aunt. “But-”

“The Sallow boy?” She asks and my mouth drops open, I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “How did you know that?!”

“As much as we try to act above it all the teachers do talk. We all thought you were...” She trails off and I shrug. “He doesn’t like me like that, and... he knows about my magic how I don’t always... act normally. It scares the Jesus out of him.” I sigh, “I can’t blame him.”

“I doubt that.” She sighs. I shake my head and stand up, looking at the time piece on her desk. I was already 5 minutes late for Charms. 

I wipe my face once more. “Thank you... for speaking with me.” I sigh, I don’t know fi I felt any better, but it was nice to get off my chest. 

The Professor waves her hand and a quill floats up, writing a note on a piece of parchment. “I don’t know how much I can help in the boy department, but let me know if you need help with any lessons, I’m always here. And I’m going to start looking for someone who might be able to help you with that ancient magic.” The note floats over to me and I grab it out of the air, just a pass for being late to class. 

I nod, thanking her once more before heading off to Charms. 

When I get to my class I slip the paper on the Professor’s desk and slip into my seat next to Ominis, Sebastian on his other side. I open my books and Sebastian leans over our friend. “You’ve been crying.”

I ignore him, now was neither the time nor place for this. “Bird talk to me.” He begs, leaning closer to Ominis. “Bird ple-”

“Sebastian I am trying to pay attention to this lesson can you PLEASE stop pretending I don’t exist.” Ominis groans, maybe a touch too loudly. 

“Sallow, Gaunt. Am I boring you?” The Professor asks, the entire class turning to look at us three. I try to hide my red, puffy face from the prying eyes. 

“No, sir.” The two answer at the same time. 

“Five points from Slytherin, more if you continue to ignore my lesson.” He scoffs and turns back to instructing the class. 

Thankfully, Sebastian drops it.

_________

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