#I could get high off of those glittery puppy eyes

[st4rwrd]

Harvey Spector my beloved, my babygirl, my pookie, my manic pixie dream girl

[the-iceni-bitch]

OMG i just realize puppy was a stripper when he and jake were together. thats so hot🥵😳 can i ask what was jake's thoughts about it? did ransom ever give him a lap dance like with ninja? btw, i am SO enjoying your birthday domme week! i can't wait for day 5!

Jake was very into having a stripper boyfriend. He loved that Ran always came home to him even when there were all these guys throwing themselves at him and offering him tastes of the life he had while he wasn’t cut off. And of course he got lap dances, are you kidding?!

This made me want to do a little drabbling… Even though I should be working on my series and challenge entries.

Warnings: explicit language, mentions of sex work, mlm, fluff

“Christ, I’m gone three months for training and you managed to completely fuck up your security system.” Jake shook his head at Zach as he bumped him out of the way so he could take over the computer. “What’s your password?”

“Password1234, with a capital p.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Oh my god.” Jake ignored Zach laughing softly at him as he frowned at the screen. “Do you use the same one for everything? Don’t answer that. Just… change them. And you haven’t installed any recommended updates.”

“Nothing bad happened.” Zach held his hands up in surrender when Jake shot him a venomous glare, turning his attention to the dancer that was walking up to the bar. “You off, Gem?”

“Yeah, gimme a shot of Patron.” The dancer took the shot Zach handed him and tossed it back. “Williams is getting kinda handsy, might wanna keep an eye out.”

Jake stood up to start scolding Zach about something else when he finally got a look at who the bartender was talking to and choked on his tongue. Oh god, he was pretty, those long eyelashes that fell across his cheeks beautifully every time he blinked and high cheekbones and pretty much the definition of dick sucking lips (Jake chided himself in his head for that particular thought). Plus he was wearing this fishnet body stocking and tiny glittery thong that just highlighted how goddamn built he was. Then the man knocked on the bar top and walked away and Jake hated himself but he could not stop himself from watching the way his ass swayed back and forth temptingly.

“Who’s that?” Jake’s attempt at innocent curiosity failed horribly when his voice cracked, wincing to himself before bending back to work while Zach gave him an indulgent grin.

“That’s Gemini, started here while you were still at training.” Zach shook his head when Jake did his best to appear uninterested. “Kid’s a natural but also kind of an ass.”“

“Right, sure.” Jake tried to act like he was just focusing on beefing up the club’s security, but all he could think about was coming back later in the week to watch that pretty thing dance.

He left thirty minutes later after giving Zach a final lecture about internet safety, jumping when “Gemini” was right next to the back door smoking with his collar pulled up against the cold and looking all kinds of pissed.

“Uh, are you ok?” Jake didn’t know why he didn’t just keep walking, this man did not look like he wanted to talk to anyone.

“Fine, just missed my bus.” The dancer huffed as he dropped the butt of the cigarette and stamped it out, not making eye contact with Jake as he sniffled a little bit. “Another will be by at some point, get the fuck out of here.”

“Ooookay.” He didn’t know what he expected, this guy was probably sick of strange dudes chatting him up. But then it started raining a little and Jake couldn’t just leave. “Service is pretty spotty after midnight, though. I could give you a ride.”

“I don’t think so.” Gemini snorted at him and pulled out another smoke. “Williams over there made the same offer if I sucked his dick, I don’t trade favors.” He finally looked at Jake and cocked his head to the side, smiling a little around the cigarette at how uncomfortable the other man looked. “Course, he’s a disgusting married lard ass and you’re kinda cute.”

“Wasn’t looking for a favor, god. Wait…” Jake peered around the parking lot and spotted the aforementioned lard ass sitting in his car and glaring at the two of them while the motor ran. “You told him to fuck off and he’s still hanging around and watching you?”

“Chrissake, I’ll be fine.” The dancer rolled his eyes at Jake as he scowled at the car. “I can take care of myself.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t.” Jake chewed on his lip before pulling his gaze away from the creep who didn’t want to leave, shrugging uncomfortably and taking a deep breath before leaning next to him against the wall. “Think I’m gonna hang out here for a bit. Always been a fan of freezing, wet weather.”

“You’re fucking kidding me. What kind of white knight bull shit are you on?” The other man just stared at him as Jake crossed his arms petulantly, frowning at the car again. “You’re gonna catch pneumonia.”

“So will you, then.” Jake could be a stubborn ass too when he wanted, and he didn’t like the idea of leaving anyone with some weird old man who didn’t like being told no watching them. “I can take care of myself, too.”

“You’re really not gonna leave?” He scoffed when Jake shook his head, tossing the cigarette butt aside and pushing himself off the wall with a groan. “Fine, you can drive me home, but only because I don’t feel like hearing Z bitch about me getting his IT boy sick.”

“I’ll take it.” Jake couldn’t stop himself from giving him a crooked grin and he could’ve sworn he saw him fighting his own. “No smoking in the car.”

“Whatever you say, blondie.” The man sprawled across the passenger seat and stared out the window, ignoring Jake’s expectant stare until he finally pulled out with a sigh when he didn’t put his seatbelt on.

“So, have you been dancing long?” Jake had to do something to fill the awkward silence in the car, he didn’t think this man would appreciate his collection of 80s power ballads.

“No.” Jake didn’t even notice the way he was staring at him sideways, too preoccupied with his own nervousness and tapping his fingers against the steering wheel while the other man checked him out.

“Slaughter’s is your first dancing job then? That’s cool.” He really wished this dude would offer him some more information so he didn’t start babbling like he always did. “I myself don’t dance, except at home, don’t think that counts, though. What did you do before?”

“School, turn left here.” Jake turned a little to look at him to see where he was indicating and when their eyes met for just a second, his breath stopped. They were so blue.

“For, um, for dancing?” What a stupid question.”

“No.” The man spotted the flush creeping up Jake’s neck and decided to take a little pity on him. “English lit.”

“Wow, that’s really cool.” Jake took another turn when he told him to and stopped in front of the brick apartment building. “Well, uh… see you around?”

“Yeah, gimme your phone.” Jake blinked stupidly when he handed it over, his mouth opening and closing with unasked questions while he watched him tap on the screen. “Text me and ask me out to dinner once your brain resets. Bye blondie.”

“It’s Jake… wait, what?” Jake almost dropped the phone when he tossed it back to him, spluttering while the dancer gave him a wicked grin before getting out of the car. “You’re kind of cocky!”

“I know! I should be! Have you seen my ass?” He slammed the door behind him and waved back at Jake as he kept staring at him in shock.

“Well… yeah.” Jake couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he looked between the phone and the man who was walking away from him, rolling down the window and shouting after him. “I don’t know your name!”

“It’s Ransom, you shut the fuck up Mark! I know what time it is!” Ransom screamed at his neighbor as he walked into his building after winking at Jake.

Jake grinned to himself when he typed the name Ransom into his phone with the new number, fighting the urge to put little heart emojis around it.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Shit, should I write more of this? Even though it’s gonna have a crazy angsty ending? Maybe I should do all the exes for both ninja and puppy. Send me your thoughts!!!

[savagenutella46]

Standing Here With You

A valentine’s day gift for @thecaptainhelm lm. (By the way, I love you so much and you’re amazing) I hope YOU have an awesome eventful day filled with lots of love because you’re such an amazing writer and I love you!!!!!!

Also, @eat0crow , who is moderating the gift exchange! Thank you for all you’ve done!

Everyone has a soulmate. 

It's not a notable deal. Though it's something many people cherish and look forward to, it's just as much an ordinary fact as primary color mixing: that's just how the world works.

Blue and yellow mix correspond with each other to produce green; soulmate A and soulmate B each have tattoos to correspond with one another, completing either tattoo on the skin of their other half.

Marinette will be damned if she finds anyone to match her tattoo. She'd loved it as a child, sitting through boring classes with a pout and jittery knees so she could rush home and admire the strange tattoo that covered the length of her inner forearm.

But now, she couldn't find a single thing to be more ashamed about. 

Even as she moves halfway across the world from taunting bullies and mind-controlling sociopaths, the damage is done. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng does not want a soulmate.

She does not want to disappoint, to never live up to her soulmates expectations, because, "Your soulmate wouldn't like those pigtails, Marinette." and, "How could someone want a bully like you?"

Marinette does not want to relive her lycée experience, covering her mark every chance she could get so that Lila Rossi wouldn't antagonize whoever was on the other end of her soul line.

She’d watch as other people’s—normal—soul marks started to glow, indicating the one thing soulmarks are responsible for. Marinette witnessed on the sidelines as everyone she knew and had learned to love and lose found their other half, and left her in the dark. Watching, seeing, but never to experience what it was like. To find your soulmate.

Her mark. A white rose hanging upside down at the epiphysis of her radius, petals spread wide against each other, some looked as though they were flowing freely in the air, and some looked as though they were stuck to one another.

A deep red liquid spurting out of the center, running down the limp rose and glazing its petals as it oozes from the center bottom and down the sides of her arm, creating for a unique, yet concerning mosaic upon her forearm.

"Is that blood?" They'd asked, some looking curious, and some looking downright disgusted at the mere sight of her mark. Something that was supposed to be naturally celebrated, not hated and sneered upon. They were convinced she'd be a menace to her soulmate, like soulmates were anything other than fate.

Marinette did not know if it was blood, obviously. There was no superior entity whispering to her at night, informing her of every single petal's weight in grams. Instead, it was easier to have a friend pick apart the dubious meaning of such a cryptic mark, unlike so many others, hers was not so simple.

Kagami, especially, had a great eye for these things. The meticulous thought that girl compartmentalizes for the sole topic is unbelievable at first glance. It's only when you see much more of her, do you understand why she even bothers with soulmarks.

"You wouldn't believe the meaning behind such marks, Marinette. It's only when you start to break the first barrier, do you know." Okay, so, Marinette had no such way with words as the world-class fencer, but she was pretty sure the girl was saying that marks represent people the way names represent their spices.

Salt, for example. You can just tell the flavor of salt by it’s damn name.

“You’re the epitome of innocence, Marinette,—“ Marinette begs to differ, she’s read fanfiction. “But it seems you’ve been hurt, aged more than what a white rose will represent for you. That’s where the blood paints over you, like a parasite.” Marinette furrows her eyebrows at Kagami, a reoccurring gesture that will give her wrinkles by the end of the year, she knows, but it’s Kagami.

They’re sitting in their apartment, high above the Gotham smog and litter they’ve learned to acquaint themselves with, and looking out over the city from their ratty second-hand couch.

—Because Marinette wants to live with someone who will break her finger and then call her stupid and put a cast on it for whatever reason, you feel?

Another twig, green leaves still growing out of it—though, probably not since the severance—blows by their window, spurred on by a lone gust and back down to the ground, plummeting to an unfortunately placed puddle on the pavement.

“Stop moping.” Marinette makes a face.

“I was not moping.”

“You were making that sad face you make when you see a puppy walking by itself on the street. You’re moping. Why?” Marinette huffs in annoyance, and turns to look at her friend, who’s already staring with an exasperated quirked eyebrow.

She flounders for words, making exuberant gestures with her hands as she tries not to look Kagami in the eye.

An audible exhale from the woman. “You’re worried about, what, your soulmate, for whatever reason?” 

Marinette looks down at her mark, it’s entrancing rose petals glowing brightly against her skin, almost alike to the glittery sheen of highlighter she so often brushes onto her cheekbones.

“It started glowing last night, Kagami.” Marinette worries her lip and continues to stare at the now pulsing, almost obnoxious glow of her rose, the red liquid that spurts from its center taking on a glamorous shine.

“That’s wonderful. Right?” Kagami adds, when she fails to find a response. 

It should be. She knows that. She should be joyous right now, jumping ecstatically and rejoicing at the fact that she might find her soulmate sooner than later, but the ever-impending doom of, ‘what if’ continuously pops up in her brain, muddling any chance of happiness she might’ve had.

Marinette’s psyche is aged. She’s been through things. A lot of things that most people haven’t been through. Deaths, loss of loved ones, reoccurring terrorist attacks, and so much more that puts a haunted look in her eye and a deep hunch in her shoulders. She couldn’t bear to see the look on her soulmate’s face.

Kagami seems to read her mind and makes a low noise in the back of her throat. “Let’s go to the zoo.” So spontaneous, it almost makes Marinette do a double take.

“You? Want to go to the zoo?” She stares at Kagami, the latter unwavering with a borderline determined look on her face that says, ‘Nope. No fighting me on this one.’

“Distraction.” Is all she says, and for once, Marinette agrees that, yes, maybe a distraction is in order.

The Gotham City Zoo proves to be a great distraction, in between the hippo exhibit and the jungle-themed building just for showcasing snakes, Marinette finds a rather warmth in her heart.

Marinette grins widely at the crocodiles lounging across various rocks, seemingly not a care in the world is thrown around in between her and the fenced crocodiles, and she harbors  a sort of piece standing alone. (Kagami had ditched her at the zebras for the lions.)

Distantly, she hears what sounds like two people fighting—or, bickering. 

“—over here, got bit by a crocodile.” An erupt of laughter from two different voices, one distinct with a low raspy laugh, and the other, who starts hacking nastily in the middle of it.

“Those cigarettes do not benefit you, Todd. This is not a laughable event.” A third voice juts in, and she has to turn her head, locate the source of whoever said that.

Three men, one looking younger than the other two, stand slightly to the right of her in front of the crocodile exhibit, the two older men seem to be laughing at the younger’s expense—how do you even get bitten by a crocodile? She decides to not judge. This is Gotham, after all.

And, oh.

The guy they seem to be laughing at has the brightest green eyes she’s ever seen. Ink black hair frames his face beautifully, as he sneers down at the other two. The stranger doesn’t seem to notice her stare, but it’s cut short anyway by the sudden immense throbbing of her forearm.

Marinette winces, and slowly pulls down her sleeve to see her soul mark is—

Finished. It’s glowing, glowing far more than it had been over the course of the past two days, glowing so much she can barely squint to see that buried deep in the middle of her rose, a pristine dagger.

Marinette’s eyes widen, and she can’t help but make an incoherent sound that fights its way up her throat.

A tap on her shoulder, and she turns around to see the boy she was shamelessly staring at is right in front of her, and, woah, he’s tall. Marinette cranes her head up to look at the boy who so quickly grabbed her attention.

He also has the prettiest blush on his face, his eyes darting in between her and his companions, who seem to be laughing even harder, and in the distance, she hears a crude nickname being thrown at him.

“Holy shit, Demon Brat actually has a soulmate—“ a sentence cut off by more wheezing laughter, so she turns her gaze back to the boy in front of her.

“I’m Damian, you’re...soulmate.” The last word comes out wonky, like he couldn’t believe his own words, but she understands. He’s staring at Marinette now, bright green gaze fixed so intently on her, and she can’t help but blush, herself.

“Marinette. I figured, actually, when my arm started to sting like a bitch.” She says, once her mouth finally aligns with her brain and she gets the courage to say something relevant to smart.

Damian cracks a small smile, and she finds herself following the gesture with her eyes. It’s a beautiful movement, one she can tell is foreign to him, a shame.

And she doesn’t feel jittery. More at peace, looking at the equally aged look deep in his eyes, and the mark right in the middle of her forearm, she can guess he’s been through a hell of a lot, maybe more than she has.

Marinette will spend a lifetime learning what lies behind his exterior, looking at him now.

She supposes this soulmate thing won’t be too hard, after all, even as the two men behind them keep bickering and laughing at their predicament in front of the crocodile exhibit.

[fantasticfemmefatale]

Cold- Spencer Reid

not my gif

SUMMARY: reader is kinda bad at dealing with cold weather lmao, Spencer is rlly sweet, and everyone is happy for once in their trauma-filled lives. i live for this man. there’s some slight emily x reader if you use a microscope, i guess.

WARNINGS: fluff, canon atypical happiness, there’s this one homophobe in it, they should burn

Cold.

It was cold.

Had you left a window open? 

No, the window on your side of the bed was still firmly shut.

Why was it so cold?

You rolled over, on the couch, eyes screwed shut, half desperate for his warmth although you’d promised you’d give him space, after you were nearly on top of him when you two woke up last time.

Oh.

That’s why it was cold.

Sliding out of bed and grabbing your fuzzy robe off the floor, you somehow managed to make it out of the room while only tripping once. You wanted to laugh at him, tell him depressed elephant who? I am graceful after all, loser! However, gloating in his face required having his face nearby.

Where was he?

You thought back to those crappy stories you’d heard from Emily of sleazy guys in bars who’d scramble for a hook up then leave a girl high and dry before sunrise. But he couldn’t do that if you hadn’t hooked up, right? If he was just a friend who’d come knocking at your door at 8:43 for your biweekly movie night, then got stuck at your apartment because of the storm? Although, you wished he was more than a friend.

A sharp hiss resounded from the kitchen, followed by the faucet running, as you padded in. 

“Spence?”

His head shot up fast, like a puppy caught dragging trash through the house. He shut off the faucet with his right hand, and reached for a towel to dry his left as he spoke.

“(Y/N). Hi. Hotch called me saying we had a case, and I told him you were here with me so he didn’t need to call you, and I just thought I’d make you coffee before I woke you up,” he explained with a small, tired smile and equally tired eyes.

“Did you burn yourself?” you questioned, remembering the commotion when you’d walked in.

“Uh, yeah.”

You laughed slightly, one of those sharp nose exhales accompanied by a half smile when you just can’t laugh at the moment. Frankly, you were far too exhausted. You took the mug he was holding outstretched towards you with a grateful smile, returning to your room to get dressed. The warm mug contrasted deliciously with the cold air of your apartment. You didn’t need to tell Spencer that he could change in the bathroom if he needed to; he already knew. After the first time you’d been called in to work while Spencer was staying over, you’d developed a system. He brought his go-bag over with him, leaving it next to the door along with his Converse that you always said made him look like he was still 12. He’d bring two extra pairs of clothes to leave at your apartment, one for when you left and another, comfier pair for your return. Then, he’d gather anything he’d left in your apartment and walk down to his own. It was funny, honestly, how his apartment was just three floors down from your own and yet he refused to leave his stuff there. He’d ramble on about how but leaving my stuff at your apartment saves 9 minutes and 27 seconds, and that’s time we could be spending saving lives, and-

You left your room, dressed in black skinny jeans, combat boots, and an army green long sleeve with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows at the same time Spencer exited the bathroom in Converse, brown pants, a vest, and a button-down shirt. No words were spoken as you two grabbed your duffels from where they were sitting near your door, and Spencer grabbed his messenger bag as well, slinging it over his shoulder in the most uncoordinated way possible while simultaneously trying to open your door, resulting in him on the floor with a loud grunt. You laughed, loud and clear, and you grabbed his wrist and helped him to his feet, opening the door and locking it securely behind you.

The bullpen was colder than your apartment had been, you thought with a shiver as you walked in, with Spencer falling into step behind you. Still slightly groggy and nursing the coffee from Spencer- which you’d transferred to an insulated water bottle prior to leaving- you stayed quiet through Penelope’s run-down of the case and Hotch’s typical wheels up in 30. 

On the plane, you sat on the couch with Spencer, careful to leave an inch between you two. In the two years you’d known each other, he’d warmed up enough that you could touch him some, but you tried not to do anything more than the occasional hug or shoulder pat when the time called for it. Right now, nothing was calling except sleep. Just by looking outside the window, you swore you could practically feel the frigid night air of Wisconsin, the lovely location of today’s deranged criminal, a kidnapper. When you voiced your feelings about the cold to Spencer, he spewed facts from who-knows-where about different places the air could possibly get into the plane, meaning you weren’t just making up the feeling. You listened attentively, knowing how much it meant to him when he didn’t get cut off for once. After all, he just wanted to help.

The plane landed, and you were the first one out.

Cold.

It was cold.

And you forgot a jacket, idiot.

Morgan chuckled as he passed by you, clad in a t-shirt, no less, saying, “Cold, baby?”

“As if.”

You were in an interrogation room. 

It was less cold than the rest of the precinct, but still chilly.

The woman in front of you, a blond, small thing, looked to be no less than 20. And yet, she was kidnapping the children she babysat for after their parents returned, then trying to pass them off as her own. She was kidnapping the children of same-sex couples, a religious fanatic who believed that being anything but straight was worse than murder. Wow.

Screw homophobes.

Honestly, the case had wrapped itself up fairly well, complete with a glittery red bow, once Penelope- thank god- had figured out that each family had used the same babysitter at least once. Rebecca Umbrige. To be fair, the team had spent a while focusing on the same-sex couples aspect of it, only to change paths after all that turned up from that was dead ends. Then Rebecca came into the picture and brought everything together nicely. 

With that red bow, of course.

Still, one more thing was needed.

A confession.

Emily was in the interrogation room with you, watching as you took the lead. You were hoping to get something out of her through subtle hints at attraction between you two, and it worked, eventually.

All it took was holding Emily’s hand. Sad.

Emily laughed as Rebecca was dragged out of the room in handcuffs, earning her a stern look from Hotch when the two of you left as well.

Ugh, why did the rest of the precinct have to be so cold?

The plane ride home was uneventful, and so was leaving the bullpen after the last of the paperwork was finished, just before midnight three days after you’d left. Until, at least, Spencer jogged up to you, brown curls waving wildly in the D.C. wind, asking, “Wanna go out?”

“Like a date?” you asked, incredulous. If it was a date though, you wouldn’t  be upset. You’d had a not-so-small and not-so-sneaky crush on him for almost the entire time you’d known him.

He stopped suddenly, speaking so fast it was a miracle he could get the words out at all.

“Slow down, Spence.”

“I just meant, maybe we could go get hot chocolate, or coffee, or whatever, and then just walk around D.C. or something? I don’t think I can sleep right now,” he blurted, brown doe eyes watching you expectantly in that way that made your heart flutter.

“I’m cold”, you said, almost pouting like a child.

He laughed for a second at that. “We can stop by your apartment first and change if you want.”

26 minutes later, according to Spencer, the two of you arrived at the doorstep of a slightly shady 24-hour coffee shop that Waze had been all too happy to lead you to. After getting some surprisingly good lattes, you two wandered aimlessly around D.C., occasionally bumping shoulders from how close you were. He’d tell you the history behind different buildings and monuments you passed, and you’d interrupt every few minutes because oH MY GOD SPENCE THAT HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A FACE!, or, LOOK THAT CLOUD LOOKS LIKE A BUTT! 

Spencer laughed every time you got distracted, letting his eyes linger just a few seconds too long on your face when it lit up like a kid’s on Christmas, wanting to commit your face without stress, or fear, or anger to memory. Moments like these didn’t come often in your line of work.

When you realized it was starting to snow, Spencer swore he’d never seen you look this stunning, bundled up in one of his sweaters that you’d stolen months ago, with rosy cheeks and a red nose to match, eyes glimmering with excitement and lips spread wide in a smile and you spun around, eyes on the sparkling sky above. 

Eventually, he said, “(Y/N)?” in a voice barely above a whisper.

Your head whipped around, and you stopped suddenly, all your attention focused on Spencer, something that never failed to make him feel cared for. “Yeah?”

He didn’t answer, instead slowly reaching out to hug you, the first physical contact between you he’d ever initiated. His arms around your waist were uncertain, and he haltingly rested his head on your shoulder, thankful you couldn’t see him grinning like an idiot. As soon as you hugged back, he pulled you in closer in a bone-crushing hug that you could’ve sworn made time stop. 

“(Y/N)?” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I know I said this wasn’t a date, but if you wanted it to be one, maybe it could be one?”

“I’d like that, Spencer.”

Cold.

It was cold.

But with Spencer holding onto you like there was no tomorrow, you were much, much warmer.

[sylvie-writes]

Evans Family Christmas

pairing: chris evans x reader ft. Dodger hehe

requests: I need all the ugly Christmas sweaters, hot cocoa, Christmas cookies, everything in my life with the avengers or with Chris and his family 🥺 -anon

2. Just imagine that you and Chris are spending your first Christmas together and you’re decorating cookies and singing Christmas songs together and dancing around the living room with the fireplace going and of course hanging a stocking for Dodger. @aubreeskailynn​

warnings: just chris being the dirty minded man that he is

word count: 2,079

author’s note: pardon any mistakes! this is also for @fangirlovestuff​‘s birthday challenge! I’m so sorry for the long wait :(

challenge prompt: 25. that couple where one cooks and the other can’t cook for shit

PART OF MY CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION (check the tag for the masterlist)

gif below was found on giphy

From your spot in the kitchen, you could hear the deep chuckle of the man you have loved for the past two years. He was currently on the phone with his mother who you assumed was inviting you both to the annual Evans’ family Christmas get together.

Chris rushed into the kitchen a giddy smile on his adorable face and fists excitedly curled into his chest like a small child. You didn’t even need to hear the words spill from his mouth to confirm your suspicions that the two of you were, in fact, going to the party.

One who cared for Chris as much as you did, could easily tell that the bright grin on his lips was the genuine one he sported when around his family. A career such as his, made time with family limited and you were always more than happy to go along to any event with Chris’s family. Even if that meant you’d see them once a year or twice a week.

The Evans family truly lived it up on the holidays, something definitely instilled in your boyfriend who acted like a frat boy at parties. (You have many videos of him being the happy drunk that he is, to say so.)

With this being your first Evans Christmas, Chris literally went all out once his mother called him that week before. You were unaware of this until an ugly Christmas sweater was laying out on your side of the bed just the day before Christmas. As you had been working all day, Chris had run out to accomplish some errands but you had no clue it actually meant this. With a small giggle, you decided to amuse yourself and try on the sweater. The sweater itself looked like it had been pulled straight out of any cheesy 90’s holiday movie you could imagine. Decked in lights attached to a battery pack and lots of gaudy tinsel, the sweater was the literal embodiment of any office Christmas party attire. Even the Grinch would have turned his head at all of the very questionable, yet somehow eye catching, components of the knit top.

You decided to venture down the stairs in the sweater to surprise Chris, but oh how the tables had turned. Instead of surprising the man, he shocked you first and not for a good reason. Jaw half dropped, you slowly walked into the mess of a kitchen. Various cookie making ingredients spilled among the counter and you found the culprit’s back turned your way. His entire black sweater was covered in flour and somehow even the back of it. At the mess you let out a tiny, but very audible, shriek causing the man to cautiously turn.

A nervous smile graced his lips and he held up two mugs of hot cocoa.

“Heh heh. Your sweater looks nice, honey...” There was no sign of amusement on your face, and you just horridly stared at the colossal snow storm of flour in the kitchen. “...hot cocoa?”

You just slowly turned your head in his direction and if an eye can invisibly twitch, then yours was doing so. An insane chuckle left your mouth and you just walked closer, snatching the mug from him. The last thing you wanted to do was clean this damn kitchen, especially after a long day at work. You loved Chris, but that man never followed through with things. Of course it wasn't intentional, but if you did wait for him to do said things, they’d never get done in a timely manner.

A timer sounded from the oven breaking your small staring contest with the man who nervously gulped from time to time as you were yet to say a word since entering the kitchen.

“Sounds like your cookies are done, lover boy.” You turned on your heel heading to the living room, but not without looking over your shoulder to utter a quip.

“Wouldn’t want to burn those things. Especially after the mess you’re going to have to clean all by yourself.”

Chris knew you were teasing, as confirmed by the discreet wink, and he just shrugged his shoulders, laughing. He had already planned on cleaning the kitchen, but this time he actually meant it.

An hour later, Chris joined you on the couch, a plate of decorated cookies in hand. He threw an arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead. You decided to take a cookie and hummed in approval when the sugar dissipated on your tongue.

“My, my, Chris Evans. If you weren’t an actor, I’d say you could become a baker!”

In thanks, he once again kissed you, but this time on the forehead, making you crinkle your nose a bit. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I see you found the sweater. Do ya like it?”

You looked up at him with a dazzling smile and pecked his lips.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Against the plush lips of the man you murmured, “I hate to ruin the moment, but is the kitchen clean?”

Chris pulled back with a deep chuckle that seemingly lasted for minutes. He tried to speak between the choppy laughter, but failed and instead gave you a simple nod of his head. Leaving the man to his giggles, you quickly snuck off and then rushed back into the room in no time as Chris was finally ceasing his howling.

Arms secretly folded behind your back and a large, corny grin on your face, Chris’s eyebrows raised in suspicion. He cautiously reached out to pull you closer to him, pretty much to the point where you dropped to sit on his lap.

Once seated, you brought your arms around to your own lap and opened the glittery Christmas gift bag. Just as you were about to pull the final piece of tissue paper from the sack, you called Dodger who loyally came running in from the next room. At the point Chris was so utterly confused that he wasn't even aware Dodger had joined you both. Although, the man did wear a smirk that was borderline concerning.

The pup then curled up next to you on the couch after venturing in. Finally, you started to rummage through the gift bag, revealing its contents that had suspense looming in the air for a good while. Honestly, as you pulled out a beautifully embroidered stocking, which was for Dodger, Chris released a shaky breath that he had been unknowingly holding in.

You turned to see his reaction and instead started laughing at his tremendously cherry red cheeks. His smirk had also dropped and he now partly resembled a sad puppy. Even though he looked downcast, you could spy a sea of playfulness in his eyes.

“Oh my gosh, babe! Why are you so red?” It was now your turn to try and talk in between laughs.  

Chris shook his head in a manner of disappointment, dramatically sucking in air and widening his eyes as one would do when traumatized.

“Let’s just say I had assumed there would be stockings in that bag, but...not that kind.” His ears were all red now and the two of you were cackling loudly, causing Dodger to leave the room.

“You dirty man! I swear for a few seconds I thought I was looking at Clifford the Dog!” you continued to tease him for a good five minutes and Chris just accepted it until a feel-good, Christmas classic came on the radio and he scooped you up.

For a quick second you squealed in shock, but then the man set you down on the floor in the middle of the living room. He held out a hand and you accepted it.

Of all the songs that could have graced the radio, it had to be Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You. Thank the heavens the blinds on the windows to the house were shut or the whole neighborhood would have seen you and Chris dancing like fools. The two of you energetically bounced around the living room. Your hair was flailing around as Chris’s arms madly waved up and down. Off key singing resounded from the you both and poor Dodger became the unsuspecting victim to the horrid sounds. Regardless that he was all the way in another room.

From then on, you and Chris spent the rest of Christmas Eve alternating between decorating cookies and doing some Christmas themed karaoke. The night ultimately ended when the both of you crashed from your sugar highs on the couch, not even waking until Dodger came and nudged you in the face, annoyed.

----

Christmas morning came quick and unfortunately that meant both you and Chris had to be up bright and early for the party at his parents house. It had been a good couple of months since you’d seen them all last.

After a couple of groans and tossing around, you managed to find the legs to leave the bed as Chris did the same. The two of you went your separate ways and did the necessary tasks before you later met at the front door. You and Chris both had your ugly sweaters on, even Dodger had one on as he was coming along too. In your hand, you held a bin of the cookies from the night before and in the other you held dodger’s leash as he practically pulled you out the door. Chris, who was chuckling at the dog’s excitement, trailed behind with the many gifts for his family members.

The Evans clan greeted you both with open arms, quite literally, as you were engulfed by all of his siblings at once. Poor Dodger was thrown into the mix and got a bit squished, but he enjoyed the embrace nonetheless.

As soon as you and Chris stepped foot into the house and the door shut behind you, Chris’s sisters ushered you into the kitchen where you just looked back to your boyfriend who gave you a thumbs up and a cheesy grin. Little did you know that you were about to learn the most sacred thing about the family, which is their gingerbread recipe. For a good couple of hours, you chatted with the ladies and helped tediously decorate gingerbread while Chris and the guys were in the other room. Occasionally he’d pass by and steal some cookies to which you’d smack him. The man would quickly retract his hand and like a child in a cookie jar, he’d dash away, but not before placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Once dinner was served, everyone sat around the table, quieted down, stomachs full and feeling a food coma from the endless amount of servings. You and Chris managed to fight the urge to rest and instead collected dishes to wash. Just as you started scrubbing the dirtied plate Chris had handed you, he nudged your hip with his own. In confusion you turned to the man who motioned for you to look up.

Resting above your heads was a tiny piece of mistletoe, delicately hanging by a little silk ribbon. You lowered your gaze back to the man who had turned and now placed his hands on your hips. Pulling you flush against his chest, Chris kissed you deeply, prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck. Suddenly, you heard some cheering and could feel a protruding smile on Chris’s lips. Looking towards the direction of the sound, you saw the shutters on the kitchen pass through open, allowing everyone in the dining room to peek in.

“I was just about to give you guys some more dishes, but I should’ve known you both were up to no good. Thankfully your niece and nephews are in the other room!” Scott then set down the dishes and dramatically shut the mini doors making both you and Chris laugh.

“I’m hoping you won’t remember your first Evans’ Christmas for this.” Chris still had his arms wrapped around your waist and smiled down on you with a glimmer of hope.

Letting out a breathy laugh, you replied, “You and I both know I will, but hopefully there will be plenty more of these to come.” With that, you trailed your fingers up to his hair and gently tussled the locks, earning yourself a soft kiss on the temple from the satisfied man.

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline​ @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight​ @patzammit​ @iwik3it​

[redpandaramblings]

Laundry Day. Sero x F!reader

Content warning- Mature humor, Mineta mention, sexual situations, heavy petting.

 “Come on!  It would be so much fun!”  Mina was bouncing on her heels, practically vibrating with excited energy as she tried to convince the group to go along with her scheme.

“So let me get this right.” Bakugo sighed.  “You want to do this fucking thrift store scronging thing for Christmas?”

“Yep!”  Mina said.  “Let’s be real, none of us have a lot of money this year, and this will be a way to have a lot of fun on a budget!  It’s simple.  Everyone finds the weirdest or most inappropriate thing they can buy for five bucks or less, and then we have a white elephant party on Christmas Eve!”

“White Elephant?” Kirishima asks, tilting his head.

Kaminari nods, jumping in.  “Yeah man!  Means people take turns picking gifts out of a pile.  Or they have the chance to steal a gift someone else already opened.  Basically, don’t go picking stuff thinking it will go to a specific person.”

“Is this going to be just us?  Or are we inviting everyone?  Because I live in curious fear of whatever Mineta would manage to dig up.”  You asked from where you were lounging.

Mina blanched while Denki cackled in delight.

“Oh god, we have to invite everyone now!  Imagine Midoria’s face!  Imagine Iida’s!”

“It’s settled!  Party at Bakubro’s!” Kiri cheered.

“Oi shitty hair! Don’t fucking invite everyone over to my place!”

“But you make the best curry!  Please?  For your bestest friends in the whole wide world?”

“Fuck no!”

“Pleeeeaaaase?”  Kiri pleaded.

“NO!”

Kirishima looked around the squad, communicating silently as everyone nodded.  As a collective force, you all turned your best puppy eyes at Bakugo.  He squirmed, firmly trying to look away from all of you.  You all started fake whimpering and whining.  You knew you had won when Katsuki’s lips briefly twitched into a smile.

“Alright!  Alright!  Now stop it, you fucking extras!”

“Three cheers for Bakubro!” Sero exclaimed.

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, the party was upon you.  Katsuki had grumbled and bitched the whole time, and yet now was gazing with pride at the absolute spread he had spent the last two days cooking.  Everyone had showed up, had gorged themselves, and were now in the process of opening presents.  There had been a couple weird mugs, a lamp made out of a deer leg, and Iida had had the misfortune of opening the gift Mineta had brought.  Everyone stared in horrified awe at the three foot long, hot pink dildo.

“Are those teeth marks on it?”

“Yep, teeth marks.”

“Mineta, where the hell did you find this thing?”

“I swear I got it at a thrift store!  The price tag is still on the base, look!”

“Yep.  That’s a price tag.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“I wanna bite it.”

“Y/N!  NO!”

There was a lot of laughter and teasing as the evening continued, gifts continuing to be claimed or stolen at a slow pace.  Just about everyone after Iida had tried to steal ownership of the horror dong as it had been nicknamed.  Denki had just stolen it from you, so you had to pick a new gift.  You pointed toward a box that was rather conspicuously wrapped entirely in tape.

“Okay, someone toss me whatever the hell Sero got.”

The black haired man gave a little fist pump as he snagged the box, walking over to sit next to you as he handed the box over.  He casually pressed against your side and slung an arm around your shoulders.  “Amiga, I’m honored!  You’re going to love it!”

“Yeah, I’m going to love it if I can ever get into it.”  You began the process of slowly unwrapping the absurd amount of tape.  “Seriously, anybody got a knife?”

A chorus of “no”s replied, no one actually bothering to look for one.

You gave a dramatic groan.  “You’re all awful and I hate each and every one of you.”

Hanta gasped and placed a hand over his heart.  “Even me, Querida?”

“Especially you, you office supply elbowed freak.”  You replied, sticking your tongue out at him even as you snuggled more comfortably into his side.

After a couple more minutes of dramatic whining and tape unwrapping, you finally got the box open, only to reveal the gaudiest t-shirt you had ever seen.  It was a nauseating shade of Pepto Bismol pink.  There was glitter.  And oh god, what the thing said.  You started cackling.  You held it up for everyone to see, discovering as you did so that this had to be the largest shirt you had seen in your life.

“Ooo, nice one Hanta, that’s really awful!”

“Someone steal this from me, please!”

“No way, Y/N!  It’s the perfect addition to your wardrobe!”

“Hermosa! I’m wounded you would get rid of my gift right after opening it.”

“Look at this thing!  Fatgum would swim in it!”

You made a show of grumbling, but you stowed the shirt back in its box and enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friends.  When you got home quite late that evening, you shoved the box into the back of your closet and didn’t think about it again until almost a year later.

~~~

Today had been the day from hell.  You muttered curses to yourself as you stomped down the hallway to your apartment.  Work had been harder than usual, the kind of day that made you grateful to make the long commute back home.  So of course today would be the day that the subway would be taken over by a villain who had a sludge quirk.  Asshole had flooded the cars with the thick, foul smelling, viscous ooze that reminded you of things unmentionable.  You and the other passengers had had to scramble to make sure no one ended up in over their head.  Lucky everyone had been saved.  Unluckily you and many others, you had spent the better part of two hours standing shoulder deep in the muck.  It was in your hair.  It had soaked your clothes.  It was in your underwear.  And the icing on the cake was of course it was your friends and neighbors who had rescued you.  Of course your crush had seen you when you looked like you had taken up competitive septic tank diving.  

It took you three tries before your key actually got in the lock.  You shuffled into your apartment and straight for the bathroom.  Grimacing as you peeled your clothing off, you unceremoniously chucked everything into the hamper before stepping into the shower and turning the water as hot as it would go.  You stayed in the shower for over an hour scrubbing and rescrubbing every inch of you.  With great reluctance, you eventually stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel.  You lazily dried yourself off as you walked into the bedroom, intent on putting on pajamas and pretending you didn’t exist for the next several hours.  

You opened your underwear drawer only to be filled with a deep sense of dread.  Empty.  Your pajama drawer? One pair of extreme booty shorts that say “creepy” on the butt.  Your t-shirt drawer?  Empty.  Your closet?  Empty.  Frustrated tears threatened to slip down your cheeks as you realized that the shorts were the only clean item of clothing in your apartment.  You had been meaning to do laundry for a while, but you hadn’t realized that it had gotten this bad.  As much as you hated to, you were going to have to do your laundry tonight.  You put the shorts in and  looked through your closet again, desperate enough to find a sheet to try and fashion into a toga when you spotted a rather bedraggled tape covered box.  You hadn’t thought about your ridiculous white elephant gift in several months, but now?  Well, it technically was a shirt.  It certainly would cover you better than an improvised sheet toga.  Before you could think twice about it, you opened the box, grabbed the shirt, and slipped it on.

The shirt swam on you, going past your butt.  The color was bad, and you winced at the image on the front.  But, you were now decent enough to venture down to the building’s shared laundry room.  So, after grabbing your hamper, detergent, and quarter jar; you did just that.

You hummed the Mission Impossible theme to yourself as you descended the stairwell to the ground floor.  Most of your friends lived on this level, but chances were they were fast asleep at this time of night.  You were glad of that as you hurried along.  You really didn’t want to run into anyone wearing your current getup.  It took several minutes to sort your laundry into a few machines and get everything started.  You were leaning against the last machine in the line, debating going back to your place or just staying here when you heard something that made you freeze.  Upbeat whistling that was growing closer each second.  You knew that whistle You did not want to see the owner of that whistle right now.  You had already been embarrassed in front of crush today, you really didn’t need him showing up for round two.  You were debating how quickly you could scramble into a dryer to hide when Sero Hanta entered the room.  

He briefly glanced your way.  “Hey Y/N!  I figured I might see you here.  I’ll admit I’ve seen some shit, and that was gross even by my standards.  I wanted to ask how you were doing.  Make sure you weren’t injured or any…”. He trailed off when he finally registered what exactly you were wearing.  His grin turned positively feral as he set his own laundry bag to the side.

“My, my, my.”  Sero gave a rumbling chuckle.  “Whatever do we have here?”  Sero’s eyes could sweep up and down your body.  His signature grin grew wider as his gaze lingered on your t-shirt clad chest.  

You crossed your arms, attempting to hide the gigantic image of a lime green, glittery, prancing unicorn proclaiming “I’m horny!”  What were the odds that someone else would be washing their clothes at two in the morning?  Apparently changes were pretty damn high, you thought as you leveled a half hearted glare at your friend and neighbor.  

“It’s laundry day, Hanta, don’t read into it.”

“But Hermosa!  How can I not?  The first time I see mi corazón wearing the gift I so painstakingly chose for her?”  He waggled his eyebrows as his trademark teasing grin spread over his face.

You blushed, turning your head to the side and refusing to look at him.

“You’re full of crap, Cellophane.  It’s been a really shitty day, and this was literally my only thing to wear.”

Sero nodded and hummed, turning to put his own laundry in the machines.  “Si, si.  It was a rather difficult time, it looked like.  And you okay though?  Not injured?  I didn’t get a chance to catch up with you after the fight was over.”

You groaned, tilting your head back and covering your face with your hands. “I’m afraid I got a nasty case of extreme embarrassment and took a heavy blow to my pride.  Of course you fuckers had to be the heros on duty for that whole debacle.”

Hanta looks at you seriously as shoves disorganized armfuls of laundry into the nearest machine.  “I’d rather it be me saving you than anybody else, Querida.”

You let your hands fall to your side with a disgruntled sigh.  “Why?  So you can witness all the embarrassing situations you can blackmail me with?”

“Well now that you mention it, yes.”  Sero dumped an obscene amount of soap into the washer before turning it on.  “However,” he purred in a sinful voice that startled you.  He stalked toward you like a hungry jaguar.  He stalked toward you like a hungry jaguar.  Squeaking, you inched away from him until the back of your legs were pressed firmly against the cold metal of the washing machine. Hanta leaned over your retreating frame, placing an arm on either side of you, caging you in.  “Querida mia, I want to always be able to make sure you are safe.”

You placed your hands on his chest, halfheartedly trying to shove him away.

“That’s very touching.  Now get out of my personal space.”

 “But Querida,”  Sero murmured, his voice going low and sensual, moving closer until your hips pressed against each other.  “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than your personal space.  Si supieras las cosas que quiero hacerte...”

With him so close, there was nothing you could do to disguise the shiver that ran through you at his words.  

“Oh?  What’s this?”  Sero said.  His large hands traveled to your hips, his long fingers finding their way under the hem of your shirt to tantalizingly stroke your skin.  He leaned forward, voice turning to a growl with his mouth next to your ear.  “Hermosa likes me speaking Español, hmm?”

You bite your lip before giving in and nodding.

“Well, in that case…  Taco supreme!”

The fingers that had been stroking your skin suddenly became deadly, horrible tickle weapons; digging into your sides and moving rapidly.  You shrieked with surprised laughter, thrashing from side to side as you tried to escape.  However, Hanta’s large frame and firm hips kept you pinned against the washing machine as his traitorous fingers continued their assault.  He continues to tease in between his own laughter.  “Nachos grande!  Cinnamon Twists!  Quiero Taco Bell!”

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you wheeze and slap at his chest.  “Stop!  Stop!  You horrible man!”  He gets in a few more tickles before he does stop, wrapping his arms around you, pulling into a tight hug as you both take a few moments to pant and calm your laughter.  He nuzzles your neck before asking softly, “Feel better?”

You nod, just enjoying his warm body wrapped around you.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”  Your voice just as soft as his, one of your hands finds its way up to stroke his hair.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

“Please.”  You whisper softly, tugging at his hair just enough to encourage him to move his head back.  Your lips find each other, cautious and gentle at first.  Then, Hanta nips at your lower lip, and you let your mouth fall open with a whimper.  The kiss is hunger and passion, and heat.  Tongues wrestling, teeth lightly biting and teasing each other as hands roam and grope.  Sero’s hands find the back of your thighs and soon he’s lifting you, setting you down on the edge of the washing machine.  He presses himself between your spread legs, bucking against you, and you can feel his hard length teasing you through your clothes.

“Wanted this so long.  You have no idea how long.  Y entonces hoy estaba tan preocupado por ti.  Cuando vi que estabas en peligro, quise matar a ese villano y encerrarte donde nunca más estarías en peligro.”

“Me too.  Wanted this so long, but didn’t think you felt the same.  Now get back here and kiss me like you mean it!”

He happily complied, his lips fitting over yours as if they had been made to be placed together.  The kisses and touches didn’t stay innocent long, his hands finding your breasts through your shirt, teasing and pulling at your nipples.  One of your hands traveled down to stroke the obvious bulge that was rutting against you.  Between his thrusting and the vibrations of the machine you were sitting on, your shorts were becoming visibly soaked.  His fingers found their way up a leg hole and he moaned sinfully when he found there weren't any undergarments keeping his touch from your soaking folds.  It was your turn to smirk, pulling away from his kisses to whisper in his ear.

“I told you, Darling.  Laundry day.”

“Amore, you’re going to be the death of me.”  He groans, shoving his face into your cleavage as he slips a finger into you.

You laugh breathlessly.  “You better not die on me, Hanta.  What I have in mind will be much less fun if you’re dead.”

“HOLY FUCK!”  Shouted a very recognizable voice from the doorway.  Your groan was not from pleasure as you rested your head on Sero’s shoulder.

“Piss off, Denki.”

“Hanta’s finally getting some honey!  Score man!”

“What’s going on?” Mina’s sleep heavy voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Y/n and Sero are going to Pound Town in the Laundry Room!”

“Denki, en el nombre de Dios, I will kill you if you don’t back out of that doorway and let me finish what I started.”

Bakugo’s voice rang down the hall “No fucking in the goddamn Laundryroom!”

Kiri’s voice soon followed “Take it easy, Tsuki!  They can clean up when they’re done!  Get some guys!  You need condoms?”

Sero sighed deeply, pulling his hand out of your pants as your shoulders shook from silent laughter.  “I think, Hermosa, we can agree no fucking in front of the friend group?”

You nodded, laughing as you jumped down from your washing machine perch. “Not until the third date at least.”

Sero moaned softly, not expecting the way that statement had made his cock twitch.  Acting quickly, he scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  “My room.  Now.”

“Ooo, Caveman Hanta.  Sexy.”

Denki jumped to the side to let Sero pass, calling after you “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

You called back “Well, I’m going to do Hanta, so what does that say about you?”

Sero’s hand came down on your bottom with a firm smack as he continued down the hallway and around the corner, taking you two toward his apartment and out of sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spanish guide- 

Amiga- Friend

Querida- Darling

Hermosa- Beautiful

Querida mia- My darling.

 Si supieras las cosas que quiero hacerte- If you knew the things that I want to do to you

Y entonces hoy estaba tan preocupado por ti.  Cuando vi que estabas en peligro, quise matar a ese villano y encerrarte donde nunca más estarías en peligro.-  And then today I was so worried about you. When I saw that you were in danger, I wanted to kill that villain and lock you up where you would never be in danger again.

Hey guys!  Pan here, hope you enjoyed it.  It’s been quite a while since I’ve put any of my fanfic out there, so please be gentle with me.  I just used Google translate for the Spanish, so I’m sure some of it is very wrong.  If you have corrections, please feel free to send them my way!  Also, if you see any triggers that need tagging please let me know.  I also accept constructive criticism, and appreciate having spelling and grammar mistakes pointed out.  Also want to take the chance to answer this question ahead of time-

“The fuck is up with the dildo?!?!”

The Dildo of Doom is based on real events.  That actually happened.  One of my former sorority sisters found the dong of death at a thrift store.  It did indeed have teeth marks on it.  Human teeth marks, I should clarify.  Truth is stranger than fiction.

I have to thank @reinawritesbnha for helping me edit some clunky sections.  If you aren’t already familiar with her work, please check her out!

Taglist- @reinawritesbnha @nkjktk

[laequiem]

No tricks, only treats [ONESHOT]

/ Cardan and Jude join the rest of the family to enjoy Halloween in the Mortal World.

Part of Tales from the Mortal Realm, a collection of random moments in the lives of the Queen and King of Elfhame.

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

Read it on ao3

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

I saw him prowl towards me through the glass. He slid his arms around my waist, staring at me through my reflection.

Today is October 31st and Oak insisted we join him in celebrating Halloween. Of course, this means we all need costumes. I decided to go as the one character I knew more than anyone else.

Cardan.

I looked through his wardrobe for my outfit. It was quite hard to find a top that was loose enough to account for my breasts, as most of his clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly. I also found a dark blue coat, its collar covered in iridescent feathers. I gave up trying to find pants in his collection, as my hips would never fit, and just wore a pair of black leggings with black combat boots.

"What do you mean, dear Jude?"

"The only thing you love more than booze is yourself."

He raised his brows, making a show of looking offended. 

"Your capacity to lie to yourself will always impress me,” he said then plucked a kiss to my temple, “I love you more than I love wine."

I don’t think I will ever get over him being  caring . It felt as if he was a completely different person from the boy who would disturb lessons just to get attention.

Cardan turned me to face him, then inspected my face. “Something is missing.” He took my hand and directed me to his personal vanity. He opened the drawer and pulled out some cosmetics. He lined my eyes with kohl and coated my lashes with dark mascara. I suppressed my laugh when I saw he was so concentrated that he had stuck out his tongue. Then, he took out some glittery gold powder and applied it on my cheekbones. 

He took a step back to look at his handiwork and smiled.

“And the final touch,” he said as he plucked his crown off his head and put it on my head at an angle, “Voilà!”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I did not bother with any kind of wig. I put my hair up in elaborate braids, letting a few short curls hang in a few places. Yet, even without his signature dark hair, I still looked like him. I made faces at myself in the mirror, trying to get his grin right. 

Finally, I got up. “Your turn now, dearest Cardan.”

When Heather learned that Cardan would be coming too, she started suggesting outfits for him. She even went as far as drawing some of them. Something about his otherworldly looks inspired her. Maybe it's the tail, since a lot of her designs included it: a devil, sexy cat man and my personal favorite, a cute puppy.

In the end, I chose my own, petty idea. I walked in the closet and pulled out the outfit I had the servants clean for the occasion. 

“A King needs his Queen,” I grinned as I revealed the Queen of Mirth dress and crown.

Cardan threw his head back laughing. “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”

Thankfully, my husband was a team player, and he went with it. Even in this, he looked strikingly handsome. Or pretty, I guess. Unfair.

We landed in Maine in the early afternoon. It was strange to be awake so early, but Cardan did not seem bothered at all. We met up with Vivi, Heather, Oak, Taryn and Garrett at the entrance to FallFest, some kind of harvest festival that was held every October in the local park. It had everything from harvest contests to food stands, a section with typical carnival games, a small hay maze and even a haunted house.

I was not surprised to see my eldest sister dressed up, she went crazy for Halloween every year. Vivienne would dress up for a week straight before Halloween, even when she still lived in Elfhame. She was wearing a tight black bodysuit with a tail and claws as well as a black leather mask with cat ears. Heather dressed up as some kind of … plant lady? She had a short bodysuit made of green ivy leaves, green stockings and a long red wig. Oak was with them, wearing a reddish pink shirt with a big yellow star on it. I can only assume they went for pop-culture references I am unfamiliar with.

The real surprise was seeing my twin Taryn and her quiet lover also dressed up.

"What are you dressed as?", Cardan inquired, cocking his head to the side, "You ought to have dressed as Jude, you have already proved to be so good at it."

I snapped my head at him and slammed my foot as hard as I could on his. He was joking, of course. But the peace between me and Taryn was still fairly new. We mostly kept to ourselves and rarely talked. Garrett was back with the Court of Shadow and we were friendly, but he kept his professional and personal lives completely separated.

Cardan was hopping on one foot, scowling at me like he did not understand why I was upset. Taryn understood, though. She was sheepishly looking at the ground.

"I… I'm sorry for tricking you, Cardan."

I tried finding something to say to end the awkwardness. I wanted Cardan to apologize for what he said, but I knew he would not. Fae don't apologize.

Thankfully, Vivi broke the silence. "C'mon guys, we're here to HAVE FUN!" she complained, "What ARE you two dressed as?"

"Phantom of the Opera." Garrett replied.

"Nerds."

"Says the one dressed up as Catwoman." Garrett mocked.

The bickering continued, though less mean-spirited than Cardan’s original comment, as we walked down the main path. Our first stop was the pumpkin carving station. Each couple got their own pumpkin to carve, though Vivi and Heather’s pumpkin was mostly Oak’s handiwork and the couple making sure he did not stab himself. Taryn and Garrett made some intricate flower design on theirs, Garrett being the one doing the carving of course. As for us, well… Cardan had creative ideas, but no skills with a blade, and my skills were more of the  stabbing  variety. We settled on giving our pumpkin a traditional jack-o-lantern face. 

After the effort of carving pumpkins, we were starving. Oak was complaining, dragging his feet on the ground so much that Vivi and Heathers were holding both of his hands to pull him along. Behind them, I saw Taryn with her arm looped around The Ghost's.

I was suddenly very aware that Cardan and I were the only ones not holding hands.

Nobody knows us here. We needn't keep the appearance of the power couple, together to rule and nothing else.

I took my hand out of the pockets of my borrowed coat and tentatively brushed my fingers against Cardan's hand. I saw him whip his head towards me, and I blushed when I witnessed the surprise in his face. Soon enough, he smiled. One of those smiles he kept for me and only me, blissful and happy. The smile he gives me when we have the time to spend hours cuddled together in bed, enjoying each other's presence.

Cardan took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating good food, trying to guess the weight of giant pumpkins and visiting a haunted house. Cardan was fascinated by the weird human traditions and absolutely ecstatic about the food. Pumpkin-spiced flavored food will become the new trend in Elfhame, judging by his reaction.

When the sun started to go down, Taryn and Garrett left for Madoc’s, who decided to try giving out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Heather and Vivienne had initially volunteered to take Oak trick-or-treating himself, but when one of their friends invited them to a party, we offered to take him instead. Oak was excited to spend more time with me and “Uncle Cardan”. 

I had not gone trick-or-treating in...10 years? Maybe 12? Since my parents died. Cardan, obviously, had never gone. So, dressed up as each other, with Oak dressed as some cartoon character, we roamed the residential streets of the city to beg for sweets.

“If it is called ‘trick-or-treat’, does that mean I can make bargains if someone refuses to give me candy?” Cardan asked as we watched Oak go up to a house.

I gave him my best ‘I’ll-strangle-you-if-you-do’ stare. “No. No turning people into cats, no curse making them hear imaginary insects buzzing around their ears.”

“Why is it called trick-or-treat, then?”

Vivienne told me they had to explain this to Oak, too, a few weeks ago. Someone at school had mentioned being excited to go trick-or-treating and my brother had been very confused.

“I don’t know.”

Cardan hmmed and smirked, “Perhaps the Folk were involved when the holiday was first established.”

I crossed my arms.

“If that’s the case, not all traditions need to be brought back.”

He laughed at that, then reached around me and pulled me closer to him.

“You win. I won’t trick anyone,” he crooned in my ear, “but I want a kiss for being well behaved.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “So needy.”

Once again, I had to remind myself that nobody knows us here. Nobody recognized our costumes today: in the mortal world, dressed as each other, we were only The Guy In An Ugly Dress and Fashionable Emo Boy. Nobody knew we are King and Queen of Elfhame, therefore there are no expectations to be the hedonistic king and his murderous wife.

I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him down. I felt him smile as I captured his lips with mine.

“Ew, gross!” Oak’s voice came from the other end of the driveway, “Stop that, come here.”

Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other and looked towards the house. Oak was in front of the opened door, talking with a couple. 

“Honey, look,” the tallest woman exclaimed as we walked down the driveway, “She’s dressed as High King Cardan!”

“Oh my god,” the other one replied, sounding so very human, “that sounds kind of profane. Do you think he would have her hung for this?”

As I looked at the two women, I realized that Oak had stumbled upon the house of a Fae couple. They saw through his glamour, and he saw through theirs.

“This is my sister Jude,” Oak started, “and this is my Uncle Cardan.”

Both females had gone completely still and were staring at Cardan with wide eyes. Simultaneously, they bowed deeply. 

“Forgive us, Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting you.”

“We so rarely see our kind around here,” the shorter one said nervously, “we… wanted to meet who little Oak was with.”

“We have tea, if you would like.”

I dared a glance at Cardan and noticed he seemed amused. Was he delighted to make them uncomfortable?

“That won’t be necessary,” he said as he took my hand, “My  wife  has us on a tight schedule, we have other houses to visit. Have a nice evening.”

I caught the emphasis on  wife  and realized they only recognized him as royalty. ‘  Your Majesty ’, singular. I could tell from the two females’ expressions that they also understood their mistake. I felt bad for them knowing they had no ill intent, probably unaware of the situation in Faerie. Yet, I could not help the grin that crept on my face. I worked hard to become High Queen. I fought and killed my way through the ranks, almost dying. Multiple times. I made decisions that will haunt me until the day I die. I am High Queen, and the Folk must know. 

“It was nice meeting you,” I say as I take Oak’s hand, “You are welcome to visit us at the palace if you wish.”

My memories from before Faerieland were to blurry, I did not remember getting so much candy. Did Taryn and I get that much? How could we possibly have eaten all of that? Cardan and I each had a smaller bag, only accompanying Oak to some of the doors, but Oak had multiple full bags. Once he went to sleep, Oriana was more than happy to give us some. She had learned how bad candy was for children’s teeth - even little Fae kids. She filled little bags for us to take back to Elfhame. 

Like anyone eating candy for the first time, Cardan went a little crazy. He wanted to try everything. Faeries might be different in a lot of ways, but I now have proof that chocolate is addictive even to them. 

The High King of Elfhame ate so much candy that he fell asleep on the couch, to the former General’s dismay.

[aintguiltyy]

I'm sorry you're not feeling well!!! I LOVE YOU!!! For a distraction, please tell me your favorite Lesbian!Reddie HCs!!!!

Thank you bby, I appreciate it so much😭❤️

I feel like a lot of my lesbian!Reddie HCs correlate with the established ones, but I’ll try to be original. Also, I know you only asked for HCs but I basically wrote a whole ass fic bc I’m a mess and nothing can stop me😇

Whenever I think about fem!Eddie, I see a typical soft girl with cute hair bows and glittery nails, always a cherry lipgloss in her purse. Like, she’s the human version of the strawberry dress and you can’t convince me otherwise.

As for Richie, I feel like she would be somewhere between a butch and a femme. One day she can pop up to a party wearing a flannel shirt with Calvin’s showing from under her ripped bleached jeans, and the next day she’s rocking a tight black leather dress and heeled sandals.

Fem!Eddie would so be into alternative music, like Lana Del Rey, King Princess, Frank Ocean, Clairo, Billie Eilish... Can you picture Eddie being one of those girls that went to Halsey’s concert and asked her to be her first kiss? Because I can.

Fem!Richie would definitely be the “if a song is a bop, it’s a bop” type of person. If you open her Spotify, as Stefon says, this place has everything. Tyler, The Creator, The 1975, Justin Bieber, Jorja Smith... The list goes on and on. It’s because I’m flexible, she says. Well, that one time she pulled her leg trying to stretch in PE and couldn’t walk for a week would beg to differ.

As for them coming to terms with their sexuality, I have a whole list of scenarios in my head, don’t even get me started.

With Eddie, she kind of always just knew, but tried to hide it, especially while she was still living with her mother.

After moving away to college and seeing how open people were about their sexuality there, Eddie grew more confident, not shying away and locking up whenever girls apart from Beverly and Richie complimented her, but she still didn’t have enough courage to actually come out (until one day she did, but that’s another story).

With Richie, in all her life she didn’t really pay attention to anyone, never really thought twice about some guy or girl that subtly tried to hit on her. All of Richie’s attention was always focused only on her friends and maybe, just maybe, a bit more on Eddie.

It finally hit Richie that she’s not only into girls and not into guys, but into Eddie, when Eddie dragged her to Macy’s after earning her first paycheck and almost made the cashier cry because they didn’t have the right size of a dress Eddie really wanted to buy. Just watching her fuming, one second away from stamping both of her feet because the store didn’t have some low quality lilac summer dress, was enough for Richie to finally realize just how in love she was.

As for coming out, I feel like Richie would be the first to tell all of the Losers and then the rest of the world, but with Eddie, she struggled with being open about that part of herself mostly because of her mother, but also anxiety and fear of losing her only friends, even though she knew that they wouldn’t leave her if they found out she was gay, because Eddie’s seen how supportive they were of Richie.(I came up with a whole fic while writing this so if you want to see how I picture lesbian!Reddie coming out, feel free to stop by my ask box!)

The last but not least — fem!Reddie getting together.

Even though my favorite getting together trope is probably “person A walking in on person B and jumping their bones”, I wanted to throw something cute and soft in here, so enjoy 💞

Even after Richie and Eddie come out and the cats are out of the bags, they are both too scared to make a move, because just because she likes girls doesn’t mean she might like me.

So, when they do get together, it’s completely on accident.

Eddie’s teeth has been hurting for a few days now, and she, being the definition of a hypochondriac she is, makes an appointment with the dentist where they tell her that she needs to have one of her wisdom teeth removed as soon as possible.

Rchie drives her to the clinic the next day and waits for Eddie in the waiting room with shitty coffee and some pamphlet on how to avoid STDs just to be met with her barely conscious best friend wrapped in a soft blanket, slurred voice blocked by the cotton balls in her mouth and drugs in her system, and the most adorable, barely understandable comments Eddie makes during all of their way home.

When Richie lays Eddie down on her bed and tucks her in, meaning to let her rest, a weak hand reaches out and tugs on her wrist, wordlessly asking to stay. And who’s Richie to refuse cuddles with her favorite person in the world?

She lays down next to Eddie, who lifts her blanket to let Richie snuggle closer to her and instantly buries her nose in Richie’s neck, signing softly.

Richie smiles when a few minutes later she hears quiet snores, the ones she knows from two years of living with Eddie mean she’s definitely asleep, caressing the small of Eddie’s back where her hand hugs her.

She appears to be wrong though, because suddenly Eddie lifts her head and Richie almost coos at how cute and sleepy she looks, but there’s determination in those honey-brown eyes that throws Richie off-balance.

“You need to rest, Eds. Go back to sleep,” she says softly, hugging Eddie even tighter, but Eddie only shakes her head and looks into Richie’s confused eyes before demanding as seriously as she can with two cotton balls in her mouth: ��Did I ever tell you I love you?”

Taken aback, Richie furrows her brows, tries to catch up with what’s happening, already thinking of a way to turn this into a joke because clearly Eddie doesn’t mean it like that. She likes girls, yeah, but she’s never shown any interest in Richie like that, like they might be more than best friends.

“Yeah. Remember that time you forgot your wallet and you were really hungry and I bought you, like, two burritos with extra guac?” Richie jokes, grinning to mask everything she’s feeling right now, from confusion to fear, but Eddie only shakes her head.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she says, and Richie tries so hard not to freak out because even though Eddie still looks so out of it, the seriousness in her voice and the words falling from her puffy lips are making her feel things.

“What did you mean, then?” she croaks, trying to read the situation, because from the way Eddie’s looking at her right now, she might, might be saying what Richie thinks she’s saying.

“That I love you. Not for those burritos, but for you,” she says and instantly cringes, and Richie barely suppresses a snort because Eddie’s too fucking cute when she’s high on medicine. “That came out cheesy and talking fucking hurts, so please tell me you get what I’m saying,” Eddie whines, and her puppy eyes have always been impossible to resist, so Richie shuts the anxiety and fear already screaming in her mind up and smiles, pulling Eddie even closer.

“I get it, Eds. I love you too.”

The way Eddie’s eyes light up at her words is almost enough to have Richie’s heart bursting out of her chest and falling right into Eddie’s hands, but a moment later Eddie furrows her brows and studies Richie before asking “For realsies? Like, love love?”

Snorting, Richie smiles softly. “Yes, Eddie. For realsies. I love love you”.

This time, Eddie actually squeaks and Richie wants to kiss her so badly, but it’s not the best idea as long as there’s an open wound in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie, as it seems, comes to the same conclusion, her half-lidded gaze falling on Richie’s lips before she sighs.

“I’d kiss you right now if this damn tooth wasn’t cockblocking me,” Eddie mumbles, burrowing her face in Richie’s neck once again, and Richie can’t hold back a delighted chuckle at this side of Eddie that only comes out when she’s not in full control of her mouth before gently kissing her on the forehead.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll have plenty of time to do just that and more once you feel better.”

“Okay,” Eddie mumbles into her neck, making Richie shiver a bit, and she feels so happy she could burst and decides that the second Eddie feels better, she’ll do everything in her power to make her feel just as happy as she’s feeling right now.

In conclusion, yeah, I have a lot of feelings about Lesbian!Reddie🥺.

[amerrierworld]

Wicked

Marvel (Thor Ragnarok) oneshot

For anon 

Summary: Thor sets you up on a date with Hela, and everything seems to go well until old high-school ‘friends’ interrupt your meal.

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Thor, former high school friends (I haven’t given them names or too much detail, so imagine whoever you’d like :) )

Word Count: 2,107

Warnings: uh, annoying high school girls?

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course!” Thor responded, trotting next to you. “Trust me, you’ll love her.”

“Hm, why am I finding that so difficult to believe?” you huffed, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt as you walked down the street. “If she’s anything like her brothers, I doubt I’ll be able to sit across from her without slapping her across the face immediately.”

“Very funny, Y/N,” he responded. “Give it a chance, will you? You’ve been single for forever. And Hela’s been single for, well, eternity.” 

“I can’t help but wonder if this is just a scheme of yours and Loki’s to try and keep Hela off your butts from what I’ve been told.”

The God of Thunder shot you a look as he led you inside a diner, winking at a few passing people who squealed in delight at recognizing him. You rolled your eyes.

As the two of you waited at the front of the diner for your date, you shuffled nervously, hugging your purse tightly.

“Just don’t question her power, you know?” Thor was going on about all the tips he could think of so Hela wouldn’t accidentally kill you and everyone else enjoying their lunches.

“And don’t bring up family, bit of a sore topic that. Steer clear of Asgard and the Avengers, she’s still a little salty about not getting to rule it and such. Oh, and don’t talk about me or our brother too much, she finds us really annoying.”

“I wonder why?” 

“Haha,” he said, bumping your arm. An easy silence fell between you two, and you glanced around to see anyone that might stick out to you as a god.

“What does she look like?”

“Oh, irritating, mostly,” Thor sighed. “Like an absolute pain in your ass, completely incoherent of understanding other people’s lives-,”

“Stop it, you doof,” you said, shoving him lightly. “I’m serious.”

“Right, well she looks a little like Loki- same dark hair, love the colour green. Bit of a copy cat if you ask me. Tall, just as tall as me-,”

“Intimidating, cunning, and absolutely bored to death by her little brother’s dialogue,” a smooth voice spoke up behind you. “Is this her, then?”

You turned around and stared, stunned at the sight in front of you. She was tall, with black boots adding an inch or two so she towered above you. With a tight, dark green tank top hugging her curves and showing off her toned arms and a pair of black leather pants she looked, frankly, delicious. 

You swallowed thickly and blushed as you met her gaze, piercing green eyes framed by a mess of black waves. 

“Hello sister,” Thor said dryly. “This is my friend, Y/N. Treat her nicely.”

“Oh, don’t worry little brother. I don’t bite... often.”

She gave you a coy smirk and you felt your face become even more flushed. Thor clapped your shoulder.

“Right, I’m off then. You two have fun,” he shot his sister a warning look and she smirked back before he was gone.

“Should we find a seat, darling?” Hela began, pressing a hand to your back. You nodded meekly as you watched her. She moved swiftly like a cat waiting to pounce. Either way, her sudden touch on your body sent your heartbeat into a wonderful overdrive as the hostess led the two of you to a booth.

-

“Do you do this often?” Hela asked, grumbling as she scanned the menu.

“What? Dating?”

“No, ordering food like this,” she said. “How are you supposed to just pick one?”

Her dark eyebrows were furrowed intently and you couldn’t help but giggle, making her look up.

“We can split an appetizer first, if you want,” you offered. “You don’t have to just pick one, but it’s not very common to go scrounging on like, three meals at a restaurant.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, her gaze flickering down to the menu again, almost nervously. 

“So what would you like to start with?” you asked. “The calamari is pretty good, unless you don’t like fish? Maybe nachos...”

“What are nachos?”

You blinked at her, stunned once again, but for a completely different reason. This time you burst into full-on snickering that didn’t dissipate for a solid few minutes, with Hela staring at you in confusion until you were done.

“What?”

You patted her hand. “We’re getting nachos. I can’t believe you’ve been on Earth with those two knucklehead brothers of yours and you haven’t ever had nachos.”

Hela was looking at your hands touching before a grin split across her face and suddenly she seemed more at ease.

“Nachos it is.”

-

Your meal with Hela was going wonderfully, which was a surprise for both of you. You steered clear of the advised topics that Thor had told you about, but found that conversation flowed easily enough without it; Hela was more intrigued about Earth and your every day routine than any realm-enslaving conquest she’d ever been on. When Asgard did come up, it was always in passing, or by her own choice, and you listened whenever she spoke of it, holding her hand tightly. 

You learned her favourite colour is green, that she had a pet wolf named Fenris that she couldn’t wait for you to meet and that she’d only been on Earth for a little while, so she wasn’t really sure how to act human around everyone. 

Nodding along, your hands intertwined easily and automatically. Hers were cool to the touch and you found yourself tracing her figure with your eyes as she spoke. The conversation turned to you, talking about your upbringing, and you were eagerly talking to her about your life when a high-pitched, god-awful squeal caught your attention. 

“Oh my god! No way! Y/N?”

Rising from a table a bit further from your booth was a trio of girls from high-school that you’d hardly talked to since graduating. Your stomach plummeted; they were the exact few ‘friends’ that you had during your four years that you avoided after leaving that school behind once you realized how horribly toxic they really were.

Your face paled as you forced a smile on your face, and your fingers suddenly had Hela’s hand in a trembling death-grip. She noticed, eyes scanning between you and the group, silently watching. 

“Girl, it’s so great to see you! How long has it been? God, you look so different than you used to!”

You grimaced and said a weak ‘hi’ to them. You pulled your hands from Hela’s and buried them under the table to wring them together, sweaty and trembling. 

“What are you up to these days? Do you work in the city? I never would have thought you would have made it, you know? None of us could have imagined it in high school! You were always so weird back then, right?”

The same preppy tones, glamour bags and glittery lip gloss stared at you like demons coming to haunt you again. You had been much different than their clique from school, and yet you had found yourself wound up in their drama and constant bickering anyways. 

Through your haze, you made out a clear, cool voice from across you speaking up.

“I’m sure Y/N wasn’t anymore weird than anyone else who went to that school of yours,” Hela chipped in. You came back to reality to watch Hela speak with the leader of the girl group, a loud and pretentious girl who had a way of making everyone feel useless without trying. Yet your date was staring at her with a feline look, waiting for something to happen. 

“And who is this, Y/N? Your girlfriend?”

“I’m Hela, pleased to meet you,” she ignored the question and reached to shake the girl’s hand. In a split second you saw her face contort in an ungodly pain from Hela’s grip. She struggled to pull her hand free and when she did she was huffing, clearly offended. You smirked a little.

“Huh, quite a grip there, lady. Martial arts?”

“No, just a lot of experience killing people.”

The girls chuckled nervously. “What, are you one of those Avenge folk or whatever?” they scoffed, cackling amongst themselves as if they had made the best joke of the century.

“No, but Thor, who spends a lot of time with them, is in fact my brother.”

“O. M. G. What! You know Thor? As in God of Thunder? Like, super-hot blonde dude with a hammer and stuff?”

“That’s the one. Although he seems more fond of Y/N than me, sibling-rivalry and all that.”

In an instant you were bombarded with questions how did you meet him? is he really that hot? god! isn’t he an absolute dream? c’mon Y/N let us meet him you owe us that much at least.

Your heartbeat sped up again and you found it difficult to breathe, clamping your hands together. Your leg was bouncing up and down until you felt a heeled foot press against your calf, rubbing up and down soothingly. 

“If you’d like, I could introduce you much faster you know,” Hela drawled, drawing their attention like a predator playing with its prey. “I can easily summon him if you want to come outside for a second. It’ll be too much of a commotion indoors.”

They were scuffling about like puppies begging for snacks as Hela stood up, towering over them. You felt nervous, wondering what she was going to do but she turned to you and winked before saying,

“Be back in a minute, babe.”

Once you got your bearings again, you shot up from your seat to follow and hurry outside, afraid to find three corpses littered on the street. You hated high school bullies, sure, but not that much.

As soon as you stepped out the front doors, high-pitched screaming erupted from the streets and you watched all three girls scamper for their lives, away from Hela and a massive black wolf that was growling and roaring at them by her side. A shimmering portal was pulsing behind Fenris, and Hela was nearly doubled over in laughter as they ran.

When she saw you approach nervously she stretched out a hand.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite either, unless I ask him to.”

She gave you the sweetest of smiles and your anxiety melted away. You placed your hand in hers and she pulled you closer to pet Fenris, who nuzzled your palm. 

“Off with you, now,” Hela said, patting the wolf’s head. “You don’t fit anywhere in this world.”

Fenris purred in protest and Hela tutted. “Now, now, I’ll visit soon. Thor keeps telling me if I bring you here they’re either going to hunt me or fear me, and apparently that’s not what the Avengers want right now. Scram now.”

Fenris turned like a wounded puppy and you giggled as he grumbled, before stepping through the portal and disappearing. 

“You alright, darling?” Hela asked suddenly, standing much closer than before, her face inches from yours.

“Y-yeah, I think so. Now that they’re gone.”

“They were absolute bitches, you know that?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, they’ve always been like that.”

“Were you really once friends with them?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. I was a different person back then, and a lot of things happened that just weren't right. Eventually I locked them out of my memory but seeing them like that; that was the best revenge ever.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Though I’m afraid when Thor gave me a blueprint of ‘typical first dates’, summoning a giant wolf and scaring off old bullies wasn’t anywhere on the plan.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Regular first dates are boring anyway.”

She grinned again, a hand snaking around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sucked in a breath.

“I couldn’t let them stand there and belittle you like that, it angered me so much.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t kill anyone,” you said, poking her playfully. “I consider that progress.”

She smiled at you.

“I had a wonderful time, Y/N.”

“Me too,” you breathed, before leaning up and pressing your lips to hers this time. She held you tightly as you kissed, her cool touch making you relaxed and dizzy all over.

You pulled away and brushed your hands through her hair, feeling the soft textures run through your fingers.

“Does that mean a second date is in order? Thor said a first kiss shouldn’t be until the third date, at least.”

“Thor is an idiot,” you mumbled against her lips. “I may owe him one for the best first date ever, but he’s terrible with dating advice.”

A/N: this was so much fun to write! thank you for the anon who prompted this <3 i don’t know about you, but I definitely had some specific people in mind when writing the hs girls and it made me very satisfied to write them running for the hills. let me know what you think folks!

[sit-down-and-shut-up]

cold- s. reid

warnings: none

words: 1698

summary: reader is bad at dealing with the cold lmao, spencer is an adorable idiot of a genius, and these poor people are happy for once in their trauma filled lives

Cold.

It was cold.

Had you left a window open? 

No, the window on your side of the bed was still firmly shut.

Why was it so cold?

You rolled over, on the couch, eyes screwed shut, half desperate for his warmth although you’d promised you’d give him space.

Oh.

That’s why it was cold.

Sliding out of bed and grabbing your fuzzy robe off the floor, you somehow managed to make it out of the room while only tripping once. You wanted to laugh at him, tell him depressed elephant who? I am graceful after all, loser! However, gloating in his face required having his face nearby.

Where was he?

You thought back to those crappy stories you’d heard from Emily of sleazy guys in bars who’d scramble for a hook up then leave a girl high and dry before sunrise. But he couldn’t do that if you hadn’t hooked up, right? If he was just a friend who’d come knocking at your door at 8:43 for your biweekly movie night, then got stuck at your apartment because of the storm? Although, you wished he was more than a friend.

A sharp hiss resounded from the kitchen, followed by the faucet running, as you padded in. 

“Spence?”

His head shot up fast, like a puppy caught dragging trash through the house. He shut off the faucet with his right hand, and reached for a towel to dry his left as he spoke.

“Y/N. Hi. Hotch called me saying we had a case, and I told him you were here with me so he didn’t need to call you, and I just thought I’d make you coffee before I woke you up,” he explained with a small, tired smile and equally tired eyes.

“Did you burn yourself?” you questioned, remembering the commotion when you’d walked in.

“Uh, yeah.”

You laughed slightly, one of those sharp nose exhales accompanied by a half smile when you just can’t laugh at the moment. Frankly, you were far too exhausted. You took the mug he was holding outstretched towards you with a grateful smile, returning to your room to get dressed. The warm mug contrasted deliciously with the cold air of your apartment. You didn’t need to tell Spencer that he could change in the bathroom if he needed to; he already knew. After the first time you’d been called in to work while Spencer was staying over, you’d developed a system. He brought his go-bag over with him, leaving it next to the door along with his Converse that you always said made him look like he was still 12. He’d bring two extra pairs of clothes to leave at your apartment, one for when you left and another, comfier pair for your return. Then, he’d gather anything he’d left in your apartment and walk down to his own. It was funny, honestly, how his apartment was just three floors down from your own and yet he refused to leave his stuff there. He’d ramble on about how but leaving my stuff at your apartment saves 9 minutes and 27 seconds, and that’s time we could be spending saving lives, and-

You left your room, dressed in black skinny jeans, combat boots, and an army green long sleeve with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows at the same time Spencer exited the bathroom in Converse, brown pants, a vest, and a button-down shirt. No words were spoken as you two grabbed your duffels from where they were sitting near your door, and Spencer grabbed his messenger bag as well, slinging it over his shoulder in the most uncoordinated way possible while simultaneously trying to open your door, resulting in him on the floor with a loud grunt. You laughed, loud and clear, and you grabbed his wrist and helped him to his feet, opening the door and locking it securely behind you.

+++++

The bullpen was colder than your apartment had been, you thought with a shiver as you walked in, with Spencer falling into step behind you. Still slightly groggy and nursing the coffee from Spencer- which you’d transferred to an insulated water bottle prior to leaving- you stayed quiet through Penelope’s run-down of the case and Hotch’s typical wheels up in 30. 

On the plane, you sat on the couch with Spencer, careful to leave an inch between you two. In the two years you’d known each other, he’d warmed up to you enough that you could touch him some, but you tried not to do anything more than the occasional hug or shoulder pat when the time called for it. Right now, nothing was calling except sleep. Just by looking outside the window, you swore you could practically feel the frigid night air of Wisconsin, the lovely location of today’s deranged criminal, a kidnapper. When you voiced your feelings about the cold to Spencer, he spewed facts from who-knows-where about different places the air could possibly get into the plane, meaning you weren’t just making up the feeling. You listened attentively, knowing how much it meant to him when he didn’t get cut off for once. After all, he just wanted to help.

The plane landed, and you were the first one out.

Cold.

It was cold.

And you forgot a jacket, idiot.

Morgan chuckled as he passed by you, clad in a t-shirt, no less, saying, “Cold, baby?”

“As if.”

+++++

You were in an interrogation room. 

It was less cold than the rest of the precinct, but still chilly.

The woman in front of you, a blond, small thing, looked to be no less than 20. And yet, she was kidnapping the children she babysat for after their parents returned, then trying to pass them off as her own. She was kidnapping the children of same-sex couples, a religious fanatic who believed that being anything but straight was worse than murder. Wow.

Screw homophobes.

Honestly, the case had wrapped itself up fairly well, complete with a glittery red bow, once Penelope- thank god- had figured out that each family had used the same babysitter at least once. Rebecca Umbrige. To be fair, the team had spent a while focusing on the same-sex couples aspect of it, only to change paths after all that turned up from that was dead ends. Then Rebecca came into the picture and brought everything together nicely. 

With that red bow, of course.

Still, one more thing was needed.

A confession.

Emily was in the interrogation room with you, watching as you took the lead. You were hoping to get something out of her through subtle hints at attraction between you two, and it worked, eventually.

All it took was holding Emily’s hand. Sad.

Emily laughed as Rebecca was dragged out of the room in handcuffs, earning her a stern look from Hotch when the two of you left as well.

Ugh, why did the rest of the precinct have to be so cold?

+++++

The plane ride home was uneventful, and so was leaving the bullpen after the last of the paperwork was finished, just before midnight three days after you’d left. Until, at least, Spencer jogged up to you, brown curls waving wildly in the D.C. wind, asking, “Wanna go out?”

“Like a date?” you asked, incredulous. If it was a date though, you wouldn’t  be upset. You’d had a not-so-small and not-so-sneaky crush on him for almost the entire time you’d known him.

He stopped suddenly, speaking so fast it was a miracle he could get the words out at all.

“Slow down, Spence.”

“I just meant, maybe we could go get hot chocolate, or coffee, or whatever, and then just walk around D.C. or something? I don’t think I can sleep right now,” he blurted, brown doe eyes watching you expectantly in that way that made your heart flutter.

“I’m cold”, you said, almost pouting like a child.

He laughed for a second at that. “We can stop by your apartment first and change if you want.”

+++++

26 minutes later, according to Spencer, the two of you arrived at the doorstep of a slightly shady 24-hour coffee shop that Google Maps had been all too happy to lead you to. After getting some surprisingly good lattes, you two wandered aimlessly around D.C., occasionally bumping shoulders from how close you were. He’d tell you the history behind different buildings and monuments you passed, and you’d interrupt every few minutes because oH MY GOD SPENCE THAT HOUSE LOOKS LIKE A FACE!, or, LOOK THAT CLOUD LOOKS LIKE A BUTT! 

Spencer laughed every time you got distracted, letting his eyes linger just a few seconds too long on your face when it lit up like a kid’s on Christmas, wanting to commit your face without stress, or fear, or anger to memory. Moments like these didn’t come often in your line of work.

When you realized it was starting to snow, Spencer swore he’d never seen you look this stunning, bundled up in one of his sweaters that you’d stolen months ago, with rosy cheeks and a red nose to match, eyes glimmering with excitement and lips spread wide in a smile and you spun around, eyes on the sparkling sky above. 

Eventually, he said, “Y/N?” in a voice barely above a whisper.

Your head whipped around, and you stopped suddenly, all your attention focused on Spencer, something that never failed to make him feel cared for. “Yeah?”

He didn’t answer, instead slowly reaching out to hug you, the first physical contact between you he’d ever initiated. His arms around your waist were uncertain, and he haltingly rested his head on your shoulder, thankful you couldn’t see him grinning like an idiot. As soon as you hugged back, he pulled you in closer in a bone-crushing hug that you could’ve sworn made time stop. 

“Y/N?” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I know I said this wasn’t a date, but if you wanted it to be one, maybe it could be one?”

“I’d like that, Spencer.”

Cold.

It was cold.

But with Spencer holding onto you like there was no tomorrow, you were much, much warmer.

[everlarkficexchange]

Sunset on Grass

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

  Rated M: for later chapters/ this particular one is actually G. 

  Tags: Age Difference- Peeta is 19 years older than Katniss, but there won’t be any romance until she’s of age, so I might as well tag this as Slow Burn. Time Jump. Mr Everdeen is alive in this one, which makes Katniss OOC. Tags will update according to chapter posted.

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. This chapter closed at around 4200 words. Happy reading.

Thank you to @javistg and @xerxia31 for once again hosting Our Beloved Exchange. You guys are the best!!! 

—————

CHAPTER ONE:

It was a very cold day; Mama made us wear hats and gloves and clunky snow boots, but the worst offender in my 8 year old opinion, was the fact she forced me to wear a fleece over my long sleeve shirt with the sparkly pink hearts, and then a heavy winter coat to top it all, covering my favorite outfit that happened to be perfectly apt for the month of February… who had time to worry about layering for the weather, when Valentine’s Day gave us the perfect excuse to wear mushy, pink, glittery hearts in public?! 

  Prim had just turned four recently, and Daddy decided she was finally old enough to sit through a movie at the theater with us ‘grown ups’ like a big girl. Normally, he would’ve let Prim pick the movie, since it was her first time joining us, but when we got to the theater, I begged to see Bridge to Terabithia, because all the girls in my class had a crush on the main character actor, some Josh Hutcher-something or another, and I really wanted to see what the fuss was about with the boy. 

  Well, none of my little girlfriends bothered to tell me the movie was so darned sad! 

  Prim wailed and sobbed despite not really understanding what happened in the story. All she knew was that Mama sniffled and dabbed at the corner of her blue eyes with a wadded-up napkin, and that was enough for her to let her tears fall freely, clinging to Daddy’s neck until hiccups raked her tiny frame. 

  At the end of the movie, Mama’s eyes were red rimmed but she at least was done sniffling. Daddy and I just sat there stoically, like the hardened leaders of our small clan, we were… if my lips trembled, it had nothing to do with the sap fest we just endured. 

  Daddy sighed, “Some movies should come with disclaimers.” He grumbled, adjusting Prim on his hip while pulling open the exit door.

  “I thought it was great. The young actors were marvelous. Such range of emotion…” Mama gushed, before wiping the corner of her eye daintily. “I’d recommend it to other people, personally.”

  Daddy gave her a look, and then Mama amended, “With a warning for grief and depression.” Her lips formed a thin line, but Daddy seemed satisfied, so we walked into the frigid February afternoon and winced in unison as soon as the cold hit our faces. 

  Prim was still intermittently sobbing.

  “Primrose, honey, will a treat help you cheer up some?” Daddy asked quietly, tenderly caressing her cheek.

  My baby sister nodded, her pitiful big o’ blue eyes shining with unshed tears. 

  “Let’s get you a nice treat then. Let’s take advantage of those neatly shoveled sidewalks our tax money afforded us.” Said Daddy smiling sweetly, his gray eyes twinkling. 

  We crossed the street and kept on going until we reached the square a block away and then hesitated for a second in front of the ice cream parlor, finally settling for the quaint little bakery two doors down. 

  Immediately, my cheeks warmed up and I tried to walk with my back a little straighter, just in case a certain baker boy was working that day. My heart rattled against my ribs and I tried real hard to keep my eyes up, but as usual, chickened out last minute and all I could see was the ground. 

  Daddy walked in making the bell above the entrance chimed cheerfully; he held the door open so Mama and I could scoot into the building. We all stood just inside the door, taking a collective sigh of relief at the warmth and inviting aromas of the bakery: Yeast, sugar and freshly brewed coffee mingled in the air, welcoming.  

  “Afternoon Everdeens!” Called a deep, velvety and familiar voice from somewhere ahead. “Come on in and make yourselves at home, please!” Mister Peeta smiled, like us, walking into his family’s shop was the highlight of his day. 

  It surely was mine, of course; not that anyone would’ve been able to tell just by how gun-shy I acted, except from my parents that is. 

  They knew alright. 

  They knew all about my crush on the young baker, and at least Mama thought it was cute. Daddy wasn’t too comfortable acknowledging it, so he usually rolled his eyes at Mama about it.

  But who wouldn’t have a thing for mister Peeta, really? He was nice, polite, and handsome, with a soft looking face and bright blue eyes, always smiling, and wavy blond hair that curled under the many baseball caps he wore (currently, he donned one with the Mellark’s logo on the front.). He was also strong… or at least I figured he had to be, since he was school wrestling champion and all. I hadn’t witnessed it myself of course, mister Peeta and my folks were ancient compared to me, but I grew up hearing the stories. 

  Mama and Daddy had been high school sweethearts who’d been in the same grade as mister Rye— mister Peeta’s older brother— so they knew the Mellark brothers some. Daddy said Mr. Peeta was the pride of the town as a teenager, since he became State Wrestling champion in his senior year of high school, a full two years after my folks graduated Panem

high. 

  “How are you doing, Peeta?” Said Daddy reaching a hand over the counter to shake the baker’s.

  Mama waved and smiled, offering her own little “Hello, Peeta.” Then nudged me to do the same, and my eyes about popped out of my sockets when the baker smiled and winked one of his bright, blue eyes at me. 

   “I heard you’re leaving for Europe soon?” Asked Daddy.

  Mister Peeta smiled widely, “Yes! Got accepted to study pastistry at a prestigious school in France. I can’t wait.” His excitement was contagious.

  “That’s great, Peeta!” Interjected my mama. “I bet your folks are pleased. The bakery will boom with everything you’ll bring back with that training.” 

  Mister Peeta nodded, and though he was still smiling, he didn’t look happy. “Full scholarship ride, and I came up with my own ticket and expenses money from a year’s worth of savings. My mother is really pleased.” 

  For some reason, it didn’t sound like Mrs Mellark was truly pleased. Not for the first time, I thought adults could be so weird when they talked, not saying what they truly meant. 

  Still, Mama and Daddy offered congratulations again and I felt my stomach knot when Mister Peeta spoke again, and for once my eyes were glued to his kind face. 

  “Enough about me. Y’all came in right on time,” Mister Peeta clapped his enormous hands once, “I just pulled a tray of cheese buns out of the oven, and sat them to cool on a rack in the back. Let me go grab y’all some. I heard cheese buns are Miss Katniss’ favorites!” 

  I almost choked at that, and turned my head owlishly to glare at my parents, wondering who’d spilled my secrets behind my back to the handsomest man ever. 

  Mama was already sitting at a table; she was covering her smile behind the gloves she just pulled off her hands, while Daddy rolled his eyes slightly before sliding into the bench with Prim still wrapped around him like a baby Koala. 

  So Mama then. She tattled on me. 

  Traitor! 

  At Daddy’s behest, I came and sat next to him; Prim on his lap, and all of our coats in the space next to Mama on the opposite side of the half booth. 

  Mister Peeta came back with a tray bearing hot chocolate in white mugs engraved with ‘Mellark’s’, and a dish piled high with pastries. He placed four small plates in front of each of us, and gifted us with one more of his wide, welcoming grins. 

  “Tuck in, Everdeens! Enjoy!” The bell above the door chimed with more customers, but right before he left, mr. Peeta leaned closer to me and suggested, “Dip your bread in the chocolate. Is my favorite snack on cold days like today.” He winked again and I almost fainted.

  He truly was the handsomest man ever! 

  Mama’s smile just widened. She tried to hide it behind her cup of cocoa though, but Daddy let out a noise, like a grudgingly amused grunt of sorts. 

  “Lily,” He warned halfheartedly. 

  Mama looked up at him, wide, blue eyes innocently. “What?” She mumbled.

  “Stop teasing.” He said, sinking his straight teeth into his cheese bun. “She’s too young for crushes. Even on bakers that make amazing cookies and cheese buns. Ain’t that right, Catkin?” Daddy looked at me, arching one bushy eyebrow. 

  I scowled and turned my nose up at the lot of them before tearing chunks of my bun and dunking them in my hot chocolate. At the first bite, I had to admit, the baker was onto something! 

  “I don’t know what y’all are yapping about,” I said haughtily. 

  “There you go,” said Daddy grinning smugly at Mama, “That’s my girl!”

  Mama rolled her eyes and waved us off. “Oh well, it’s just puppy love. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, especially when he’s away in Paris and out of sight.”

  I chewed on my chocolate infused cheese bun, and my eyes lifted to watch mister Peeta bagging a customer’s order, taking payment with a grateful smile. 

  My heart drummed harshly in my chest. 

  I had no idea what the love of puppies had to do with anything, but I found it hard to believe the strange feeling of bubbles popping in my tummy would go away any time soon, even if I didn’t see the baker ever again. 

  ————————-

  My 16th birthday brought me a set of wheels, in the form of my daddy’s ancient but still reliable pick-up truck. But with the wheels, came Daddy’s caveats. 

  “Young lady, if you want to be driving around town, here are the rules,” he stated, “You gotta drive your sister to and from school. No boys—“

  “Or girls!” Interjected Mama, passing to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

  “Or girls,” Daddy continued glaring at Mama, “Unless Mama or I are in the truck with y’all.” 

  That one earned him a big groan from me, not that I’d planned on having friends ride with me places; after all, Gale had been driving his daddy’s old Jeep for the last two years, and Madge just got a new Volkswagen Beetle for her birthday, despite having failed her driving tests… twice! So we all had our own transportation, thank you very much. 

  “And, you are to keep the tank of the truck at least half full at all times.”

  “Alright. That’s cool—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted. 

  “What your daddy means is, Sweet pea, you are responsible for your own gas. We won’t pay for it, unless it’s an emergency.” Said Mama delicately, her eyes shifting to Daddy’s for support, which he gave in a curt nod of his graying head.

  “Wait… what?” I stared at them in turn. “You mean I need to come up with my own gas money?” I asked just to clarify. “Even while having to chauffeur Prim around, like I’m a courtesy shuttle driver?” 

  “Lily, our daughter is a genius!” Said Daddy with his goofy dad smirk, “Haven’t I said so a million times before?”

  Mama giggled, “You sure have, Dear. Our Katniss is one bonafide genius!” 

  Truth be told, the prospect of having spending money of my own was actually exciting for me. We lived a decent life, not luxurious like the Undersee’s, or as tight as the Hawthorne’s, but comfortable enough to always have a pocketful of allowance dough; but having my actual money, without having to ask for it or justify why I needed it, was very appealing to me.

  I still groaned at my folks for their exuberance. I didn’t mind working hard; I’ve always helped Daddy doing house work around our place, and never complained about the daily chores imposed by Mama growing up; having an honest to God paying job sounded kind of… liberating. Like I was an adult, instead of a kid. 

  “You should try the shops in town,” Mama suggested. “Something close by that won’t interfere with school—“

  “Or archery club—“ Father chimed in.

  “Or soccer.” Said Prim crossing the room out of nowhere and plopping on the couch next to Mama, to munch on her popcorn. The demand was for her, since I didn’t play the sport. “I can’t miss practice. Rue would have a fit if I get kicked out.”

  “Fine! I’ll go ask around town if anyone needs help.” I made a show of rolling my eyes and shrugging, but inside, my blood quickened with the excitement of my impending job hunt.

  Twenty eight hours later, I was stumbling out of the Sweet’s store in town square, walking backwards and grinning like a lunatic. 

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Donner! Really. You won’t regret it! Thank you again!” I gushed and barely repressed a squeal of excitement, “I’ll see you Monday. Bye!” 

  I had to grab on to the frame of the open door, not to fall on my bottom like an uncoordinated noodle when I tripped on my own feet, and finally pulled myself away from the store front. I turned on my heel and practically skipped down the sidewalk, giggling non-stop. I managed to reel it in and climbed on my truck before pumping the air with my fists in a tiny victory dance. 

  Everything was coming up Katniss, and my spirits soared high! 

  I got myself a job, and while it wasn’t my first option— Mr. Mellark said his bakery was fully staffed at the time— I had effectively secured myself a source of gas money, which was my main concern and the literal driving force behind my job hunt. I counted as a perk, the fact that Mellark’s Bakery was sitting across the square from the Sweet Shop and I was granted an unobstructed view of the front room of the bakery from behind my counter, because watching the Mellark men working was just inspiring. And I meant that in a non creepy way… hopefully.

  I tried not to be as obvious with my crush on Mr. Peeta, but I wasn’t deaf and his mama— dubbed The Witch, by the town youngsters— enjoyed bragging loudly about her successful business, and a good chunk of that came from Peeta’s success as a baker. I pretty much knew anything a nosy sixteen year old girl could know about a guy twenty years her senior, hoarding all kinds of gossip about him like a dragon hoards gold.

  Being only a few years younger than my own father, Mister Peeta graduated from Panem U when I was a toddler. He earned a business degree he’d really never used; then, he went to Paris-France for almost three years, and trained with the best chefs in the pastry business, returning to our small town to open up his own high end patisserie, but since the economy had taken a dive those days and his shop was so new and fancy, he was forced to close up and take over the cakes and pastry side of Mellark’s, until things stabilized for new businesses. Sadly, he never ventured back on his own, which was a downright shame, because the man was a culinary genius and so artistic at that. 

  Currently, he worked weekend’s at Mellark’s while teaching at the Pastry school in Capitol City… not that I was keeping tabs on the man or anything. 

  I was just observant that way… 

  Sort of. 

  Mrs. Mellark liked to boast about things she had no hand in doing, like her youngest son’s accomplishments and success abroad and locally, but she was also a ruthless disparager who couldn’t care less when and where she criticized her sons or husband when something didn’t go her way. The Witch was always going on and on about Mr. Peeta going to France and becoming an expert cake decorator, and teaching pastrity at some hoity-toity culinary school in Capitol City, as if she herself had done it for him, and in the next breath she’d be groaning about how much of an inconvenience to her it was he went overseas for the training. The woman was a hag, but I couldn’t help people in town were so gossipy and when she started with the stories. I just perked up my ears and gobbled up all the information she was sharing. 

  Anyway, my mama’s prediction about my infatuation with Mr. Peeta ending, kind of flopped. The crushed endured all the years between his absence to Europe and his return; it was still going strong even at age sixteen, but I had learned to pine discreetly, surreptitiously sneaking peeks at mister Peeta from a distance and daydream about scenarios where the handsome baker finally noticed me, and we fell madly in love with each other and lived happily ever after in a marzipan house, eating all kinds of bread and cake without ever gaining an ounce of weight… Also, in those scenarios, Mr. Peeta was like ten years younger, and nobody batted an eye at us being together. 

  Of course, I wasn’t delusional. I knew nothing like it would ever happen; after all, Mr. Peeta was nineteen years older than me and devoted to his craft. But dreaming was free, and as long as the fantasies stayed locked in my head, I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself.

  ————————

  My first Saturday morning working at the Candy shop, I parked in the public parking lot, diagonal to the town square, before opening time. The lot was built adyacente to a few city offices to accommodate anyone running errands downtown, like paying their license tags, filing taxes, getting permits of miscellaneous natures, or simply taking a stroll around the square at dusk, licking on a frozen treat from the ice cream parlor or having dinner at the pizza place. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to park there if one worked in one of the mom-and-pop shops littering the picturesque merchant center of Panem. 

  I could’ve used the designated parking spaces on the road behind the sweets store, but there was a humongous dumpster next to ours, and Ms. Donner hadn’t given me a key to the back door yet, so even if the threadbare upholstery of my truck wasn’t threatening to absorb the stench of the whole neighborhood’s trash, there wasn’t any benefit to me parking there. 

  I yawned dispassionately tossing my keys in the new purse Prim gave me when I announced I’d found a job, because according to her, I was now a grown-up and needed a proper purse instead of my ratty messenger bag, that honestly had seen better days. I swept the bag off the bench and slammed the door shut without bothering to lock it. There was nothing in the cab worth stealing; everyone knew me and my folks, we were just another run of the mill middle class family, without any wealth to our names. 

  “Ouch!” A velvety, deep voice spoke from a little ways over, and my whole body went rigidly straight. “Shouldn’t treat your steed so harshly, Hunter. I don’t think old Francine appreciates it.” 

  I turned on my heels and peered at Mr. Peeta trying to keep myself from screeching in a panic or something equally embarrassing. 

  The man was just straightening up from retrieving a chef jacket from the back seat of what I surmised was his car, and lifted his gaze in my direction with a slight smirk on his lips that quickly fell off, giving way to a confused expression, as his bright, blue eyes fixed on mine. “You ain’t Hunter,” he mumbled, squinting a little.

  To his credit, it had been a while since he saw me last, despite me keeping tabs on him and stealing glances when I could. He had no reason to seek me out or anything, plus he was a busy man, always in the back room of the bakery working his pastillage gifts. Then again… ‘Francine’— my daddy’s former ‘89 F150– was like forever linked to Hunter Everdeen’s persona or something.

  “Katniss?” Mr. Peeta frowned, like fog was slowly lifting from his mind and vague recognition finally set in, making my heart lurch and beat unbearably fast. 

  I nodded mutely, but soon I answered a spastic, “Morning, mister Peeta. How do you do?” My mama hadn’t drilled sixteen years worth of relentless Southern hospitality for me to stay silent for long. I hesitated a second and trudged along without giving him a chance to respond, scowling at the ground, “Francine, she’s sturdy,” I chance a glance at his face, “But you’re right, she’s too old to be treated poorly. I’ll make sure to be gentler with her in the future.”

  Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, as if surprised by my mere voice. He tugged the collar of his plain white t-shirt, and then huffed a chuckle. 

  “Little Miss Katniss is driving now,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. He eyed me curiously, “Well, I guess you’re not little anymore. But wow! What a way to humble a man about his old age.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, making me shift in place in mild arousal.

  He draped his chef’s shirt over his forearm and closed his car door softly. “I have no words to describe how I feel, discovering young Katniss Everdeen is old enough to drive Francine,” He tsked at his boots, but his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “End of an era… for me at least. Beginning of a new one for you, I supposed.” He smiled self deprecatingly. 

  My face burned and my chest tightened at his words, not sure if I felt elation or embarrassment. 

  “Oh… you ain’t old, sir.” I waved him off, still scowling for no good reason. 

  Mr. Peeta laughed. “You’re too kind, Miss Katniss, but my I.D. disagrees. Plus, knowing you’re old enough to drive is a sobering thought.” He smiled kindly again. 

  “I turned sixteen a week and a half ago. Daddy gave me the truck for passing my driving test.” I volunteered without prompting.

  “Neat! Spring baby, then. Makes sense. Suits you.” Mr. Peeta smiled, and I got incredibly shy, excited and happy at his short words.

  “Yeah, May 8th.” I offered softly, “That’s me. Spring baby.” 

  “As I said, it suits you. I’m a wintry kid myself, so I try to be extra warm to counteract any cold disposition I might have.” He said, checking his watch. 

  I panicked slightly; I knew time was closing in, and I’d be dismissed soon, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “What brings you out here so early on a Saturday morning, anyway?”

  Mr. Peeta cocked his head sideways and glanced at me curiously. “Work.” He said in an amused, lilting tone. He lifted his arm to point at his chef uniform laid neatly folded. 

  I clamped my mouth immediately, to prevent any other ‘brilliant’ questions might escape. 

  Mr. Peeta smirked, probably realizing what a dork I was. “How about you? It’s awfully early for a kid to be downtown.” His face took a distant quality for his next words. “When I was your age, my mother would beat me out of bed for my Saturday shifts at the bakery… all I wanted to do was lay in bed until noon, you know. But, baker’s hours aren’t exactly flexible.” 

  My whole face twisted at that tidbit of information. I couldn’t read his emotion about his comment, which bothered me somehow. I started talking just because I disliked the way his face turned blank. 

  “I’m a morning person myself.” I shrugged. But my folks made me get a job so I could finance my gas addiction,” I was smuggly pleased when the baker started laughing heartily at my silly joke. It felt nice, knowing I said something he found funny. “Anyway, I’m working too. At Ms. Donner’s shop.”

  “Nice! Good taffy. Did old Maysilee offer to pay you in candy? I swear she did that to my brother, Bannock, one summer he decided to give another shop a try. ” He said conversationally, activating the alarm of his car. 

  “Oh, gosh!” I laughed, “No, she offered to give me a check every two weeks.” Then I looked at him dead in the eye, “Now the Christmas bonuses, those are in candy.” 

  We both laughed at that 

  Mr. Peeta nodded. “Well, Miss Katniss, I won’t keep you much longer, but if you need anything… a cheese bun for example,” He winked, putting my heart a flutter again, “Don’t hesitate to come in!” 

  With that, he started walking towards the narrow street behind the row of shops, no doubt heading to the back door of the bakery. 

  “Bye, Mister Peeta!” I croaked out belatedly. 

  Peeta waved over his shoulder. 

  All I could think after the encounter was how wrong my parents had been about my “puppy love” being a passing crush. 

……………………………..

Josh Hurcherson starred in Bridge to Terabithia, which came out in February of 2007. To this day, I can’t watch that movie without bawling my eyes out. Everyone should see it!

[subbyyang]

'Cause I like you quite a lot, everything you got don't you know

Tencas/Luten/Yukten: Omega!Xuxi leaking slick all over his pretty baby pink silky lingerie [self hate - Xuxi thinks he is too big to wear pretty lingerie, copious amounts of the word “puppy”, rimming, all that fun stuff]

Lucas stood in the doorway, staring at Xiaojun while he tried on his most recent set of lingerie. Dejun kept twirling around, looking at his reflection from different angles.

“What do you think?” he asked once he turned to Lucas.

“Looks beautiful, Xiao...” Lucas couldn’t lie. The way the lacy panties hugged his figure, how the top flowed so delicately, how the white of the fabric matched so beautifully with his skin. He looked like an angel. Beautiful. Ethereal. Small and cute, just like an omega should be. Everything Lucas was not.

Lucas was big, his muscles toned, strong enough to pick up any of the alphas and he towered above all of them. At a first look no one would say he was an omega, not until the sweet scent of strawberries and whipped cream filled the room.

“What is it, Xuxi?” Xiaojun got closer to Lucas, one hand petting Yukhei’s arm. Dejun could read the little tinge of sadness in his eyes. Lucas simply shook his head and tried to put a smile on his face again, only to manage to make himself look sadder. “Please? You look sad, what’s wrong?” Dejun’s hands were now holding onto Xuxi’s hips as his thumbs drew circles on the tanned skin.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid...” Lucas planned on leaving it at that but one stern look from Xiaojun had his mouth moving again. “I just wanted to look pretty like you and Yangie...”

“But...you are pretty!”

“No, I’m not...’m too big for an omega” Lucas mumbled. “None of the alphas has ever given me pretty gifts like they give you two” he continued, playing with the strap on Dejun’s shoulder.

Dejun’s eyes followed Xuxi’s hands to his shoulder and as he watched his fingers gently toying with the fabric, his brain made the connection.

“Xuxi...would you like to wear lingerie?” Lucas nodded shyly, his eyes never meeting with Dejun’s. Xiaojun picked Xuxi’s hand before turning back into the room, pulling Lucas with him. “Come on, let’s find you something pretty...”

As the minutes passed and the pile of lingerie on the ground grew bigger, Xuxi’s spirits kept on deflating.

“I like tighter clothes, that’s the problem...let me call Yangie!” Dejun frantically said as he left the room, leaving Lucas standing in front of the mirror, a pair of champagne colored panties digging painfully into his skin. A few more minutes passed until Xiaojun returned with Hendery and Yangyang in tow, the youngest carrying his biggest sets in his arms.

“Let’s try again! Take those off and try on...huh, these ones!” Yangyang said as he rummaged through the lingerie he had brought, pulling out some red velvet panties with lace trimmings. They seemed to be bigger than any pair Xiaojun owned and that got all the boys excited...until Xuxi put them on and it was clear they weren’t going to fit either.

The originally sweet strawberry scent was now turning sour as Xuxi got sadder. They had tried all the pieces Yangayang had brought in but none of them worked.

“Don’t be upset, baby...let’s get your measurements and we’ll buy some online, what do you think?” Hendery approached Lucas who was now dejectedly sitting on the bed, head hung low. He sat next to him as he ran his fingers through his hair softly, letting his calm beta aura surround Xuxi as he waited for him to reply.

After some coaxing with soft words and softer touches from the other boys, Lucas finally agreed to let them measure him. He stood up and let Dejun and Yangyang move his body around, measuring him with the tape Hendery had brought in.

“Let me write it down so we don’t forget...” Hendery pulled out his phone and started to type down the numbers Dejun and Yangyang kept shouting at him.

Lucas was feeling a little less upset by the time they had finished fussing over him with the measuring tape, their love for him evident in the way they showered him in compliments or how Dejun’s fingers ran softly over his skin or even how Yangyang would leave small kisses to the space between his shoulder blades whenever he passed behind him. But there was stil that cloud of self doubt as they sat comfortably with their backs against the wall on Dejun’s bed, looking at different websites on Yangyang’s laptop. All the models were tiny omegas, their bodies much closer to Dejun’s and Yangyang’s than his own. This wasn’t going to work. They weren’t going to find anything that fit him, they should just give up.

They were still looking when they heard the front door open and then close and a minute later Ten was in the doorway staring lovingly at his pack members, much like Lucas had been staring at Dejun a couple of hours before.

“I heard you were upset, baby...” Ten was now standing right in front of Lucas. When Lucas didn’t look up, Ten held onto his chin and softly tilted his face up. “Oh puppy...your heat is close, isn’t it?” Lucas just nodded, his eyes fluttering shut when Ten started to run his fingers through his hair. “You always get more sensitive around it...but it’s okay, I’m here, puppy. Come with me...alpha’s got you a gift” Xuxi’s eyes snapped open at the mention of a gift. He never got gifts! What could it be?

Ten grabbed his hand and pulled him along. They left the bedroom and crossed the hallway, Dejun, Yangyang and Hendery right behind them and finally Ten led him to their livingroom. The first thing Xuxi saw was the rectangular, not very high box sitting in the middle of the coffee table. It was baby blue and on the top there was a white bow decorated with a very intricate glittery pattern.

“Go ahead, open it...” Ten said once Lucas looked in his direction. Xuxi excitedly lifted the top of the box and gasped once he saw his gift. Inside the box, amidst the white crinkly paper laid a baby pink silk set of lingerie. It was simple, consisting of some short-like panties and a little bralette, no ruffles or decorations, but to Lucas it was perfect. He yelped when he felt arms snaking around his waist from behind, Ten’s spicy cinnamon scent flooding his senses. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful” Xuxi turned around in Ten’s arms, letting himself be held tightly by the alpha. He still couldn’t believe Ten had bought it for him. That he had gotten this from his alpha. “Is it really for me?”

“Of course it is! Look at me for a second, baby...I’m sorry for never getting you gifts. We thought you didn’t care too much for gifts and that you had no interest in lingerie...that was so stupid! We should have asked you...oh puppy, don’t cry!” Xuxi tried unsuccessfully to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. He really hated the way he got before his heats. Ten kept cooing at him as he used the sleeve of his shirt to dry the tears from Xuxi’s eyes.

“Try it on!” Yangyang broke the moment by yelling. Hendery pinched his side causing everyone, even Lucas, to laugh.

“You heard him! Everyone wants to see how pretty you look in it, puppy...”

“What if it doesn’t fit?”

“That’s very unlikely...I had your measurements when I bought it” Xuxi’s head snapped towards the other boys in the room who just shared a guilty smile between them. “And...” Ten placed his hand on Xuxi’s chest, getting his attention once again. “...in the unlikely event it doesn’t fit, I’ll just take you to the store to exchange it and we can look for your size”

Lucas muttered a tiny “okay” and started to take his clothes off under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, his cheeks heating up when someone whistled. The sound of hands slapping against skin and the pained yelp that followed told him not only the culprit had been Yangyang but that either Dejun or Hendery (or both) had swatted at him. Even though it wasn’t the first time he had been naked in front of the others, this time he felt much more vulnerable and exposed. He finally started putting on the lingerie, first the bottoms and then the top, breathing out in relief when they seemed to fit perfectly, a little shudder running through his body at the cold feeling of the silk against his skin. He looked up nervously, trying to gage everyone’s reactions. He was surprised at the hungry look mirrored in their eyes, not just in Ten and Hendery but in the omegas too.

Ten took a step forward and held onto Xuxi’s hand before pulling him towards the mirror near the front door. He placed Lucas facing the mirror as he stayed behind him, his hands at first simply resting on Xuxi’s hips before moving up his abdomen.

“Look at yourself, puppy...how can you say you’re not pretty?” Ten was now on his tiptoes so he could rest his chin on Xuxi’s shoulder, his hands still keeping their bodies tightly together. “So. So. So. Pretty.” He punctuated each word with a kiss to his neck before letting go and going back to the living room. Lucas followed him, goosebumps on his skin where Ten had touched him, already missing the warmth of Ten’s body.

Hendery, Xiaojun and Yangyang looked at eachother, wordlessly deciding to leave the two alone. Ten whispered a “thank you” to them when they started to leave and then sat down on the sofa.

“Come here...sit on my lap.” Ten beckoned Lucas by patting his thighs.

“What? No! I’m not like the others, I’m too big...” Lucas took a step back, distancing himself from the sofa.

“I know I’m not big like other alphas but I can handle it...”

“That’s not what I meant! I’m the problem, not you!” Lucas got closer once again. He didn’t want to make Ten upset. He had never seen him as a lesser alpha because of his size and the last thing he wanted was to make Ten feel insecure.

“Puppy, be the good omega I know you are and come sit on alpha’s lap...” Lucas couldn’t fight against those words, not when they were being spoken firmly but oh so lovingly. He finally sat down, straddling Ten who wasted no time in pulling him closer. “Good puppy...” Ten’s hands were now resting on Xuxi’s ass, kneading it softly. He loved the cool feeling of the silk under his fingers, contrasting with Xuxi’s overheated skin against his lips.

“Alpha, please...”

Ten licked a stripe along the pack bite on Xuxi’s neck, causing him to unconsciously spread his legs and push his head back, bearing his neck in an act of submission. Ten groaned and bit into the soft skin, his hands holding tightly onto Xuxi’s waist. Lucas whimpered softly, pressing his hips down and feeling Ten’s hard cock trapped in his tight jeans. The strawberry scent was everywhere, completely overpowering any other scents in the room and Ten felt absolutely drunk on it.

“Are you getting wet, puppy? I can feel your slick soaking through my jeans...” Ten slid his hands inside Xuxi’s panties and when he removed them, his fingers were covered in slick. He took one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the sweet taste exploding on his tongue. Maybe Xuxi’s heat was closer than both of them expected. “Open up, puppy” he said when he placed two slick soaked fingers on Xuxi’s lips. Ten waited for a second until Lucas obediently opened his lips, letting him slip his fingers into his mouth. Lucas moaned around the fingers in his mouth as he tasted himself. He felt some movement under him but kept his eyes closed as he sucked on Ten’s fingers just like the alpha wanted until he heard a shuttering sound. He opened his eyes to find Ten pointing a phone in his direction, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Ten? Did you take a picture?” He said, letting Ten’s fingers slip out of his mouth.

“I did, puppy...you just looked so pretty sucking on my fingers! Do you want me to delete it?” He moved his fingers so he could cup Xuxi’s cheek, petting his cheekbone with his thumb. Lucas held onto Ten’s hand with both of his and nuzzled into it.

“No, no, it’s fine! Did-did I really look pretty?”

“You really have no idea how pretty of an omega you are, have you?” Ten put his phone down to go cup his other cheek. He pulled his face closer and left a small peck to his forehead, “Such innocent, big doe eyes...” another peck, this time to Xuxi’s lips “those full lips that look so pretty wrapped around an alpha cock and...” his hands slid down Xuxi’s neck and chest all the way to his hips and then went around to once again slide inside his panties. Xuxi’s breath hitched when he felt two of Ten’s fingers massaging his rim, his hole loosening up quickly to let him in “...your little hole, always so ready to take us, always so wet for us...” Lucas whined when Ten inserted two fingers at once, the slide easy thanks to all the slick coming out of him “...and yet, still so deliciously tight...you’re perfect, puppy”

Lucas snaked his arms around Ten’s waist and leaned down to rest his head on Ten’s shoulder, whines and whimpers falling from his lips as Ten’s fingers kept pulling in and out of him at a languid pace.

“Ten...alpha, no...” Lucas whined, his arms and legs tightening around Ten when he pulled his fingers completely out of him. Ten shushed him with kisses and placed his hands on Xuxi’s waist, gently scratching at the skin and successfully calming down the omega on his lap.

“Puppy, I just want to take my clothes off so I can make you feel good. Don’t you want my cock to spread you apart? To fill you up so good?” one of Ten’s hands slid down so he could grab onto Xuxi’s cock over the panties, smiling when he noticed the little wet stain of precum on the fabric. Lucas nodded as he mumbled something Ten couldn’t quite understand, his head still placed on Ten’s shoulder. “What is it, puppy? Speak louder so alpha can understand...”

“Want your knot, alpha...please, need it so bad” Lucas whispered right in Ten’s ear causing him to shudder visibly, his grip on Xuxi’s waist and cock tightening.

“Is that so, puppy? Do you want to feel my knot pushing against your walls as I fill you with my cum?” Ten could feel Xuxi’s cock twitch in his hand, the wet stain on the silk panties getting bigger.

“Y-yes alpha, please...please want to be spread so wide on your cock...and your cum, need it, please...” Lucas kept pleading, nuzzling Ten’s neck and inhaling his scent. It was intoxicating and it made it hard for Lucas to think. He felt hot and dazed and all he knew was that he wanted...no, he needed his alpha to fuck him, his cock so deep inside him pumping him full of cum. He wanted to feel his tummy bloating with all the cum inside and he wanted Ten to press down on his tummy while still inside him and he...

“My my...what a mind you have, puppy! Like this?” Ten placed a hand on his stomach and pressed down lightly and Lucas whimpered. He hadn’t realized he had been saying all those things out loud. “Whatever my little omega wants, my little omega gets...let alpha undress”

Lucas preened at being called a little omega, his chest feeling warm as hot slick gushed out of him at the praise. He reluctantly got out of Ten’s lap, immediately noticing his jeans around his mid thigh much darker than the rest, absolutely soaked in Xuxi’s slick. As Ten got up to take his clothes off, Lucas got back on the sofa, placing himself on all fours. He waited patiently as Ten quickly discarded his clothes.

“Fuck...can I take a few pictures to send to the pack? You look so good like this, puppy...”

Ten started to pet Xuxi’s lower back as he waited for him to reply. With his permission Ten pushed on Xuxi’s shoulder blades so his face and chest were completely against the sofa, only his ass in the air. Ten just stared for a few seconds, absolutely mesmerized by how beautiful his omega looked, before grabbing his phone and snapping a few pictures. Some of just Lucas, others where his hand could be seen grabbing at Xuxi’s ass or sliding inside his soaked panties. He loved the one where he had started to thumb at Xuxi’s rim and managed to take the picture right as he started to moan, his eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. Pleased with the results, Ten sent the pictures to their groupchat, making a mental note to do a proper photoshoot with Lucas once they bought him more sets of lingerie.

“Look at all the replies, puppy...” Ten turned his screen to Lucas so he could see all the fast paced messages flooding the chat. Lucas smiled brightly and tried to hide his face between his hands. He knew he was good looking, he knew he was handsome...but he wasn’t used to having his pack call him pretty, or delicate, or soft or any other adjective usually associated with omegas.

Ten silenced the chat before putting the phone away, his attention back on Lucas, who had stopped hiding his face and was now staring at Ten with his pretty, big eyes. He could still see the blush tinging his cheeks, his skin glistening with a thin layer of swear.

“So wet, puppy...look at the mess you made of your new panties...” Ten said, eyeing Xuxi’s ass. His initially baby pink panties were now mostly dark, slick dripping from the ends and running down Xuxi’s thighs.

“Sorry, alpha...puppy’s s-sorry...”

“Oh I’m not complaining!” Ten kneeled behind Lucas and grabbed onto his ass. “So...not...complaining...” he leaned down, mouthing at the slick soaked lingerie, his pupils dilating at how much stronger and sweeter the strawberry scent had gotten since he had arrived. “Want to show you off to other alphas...show them what a perfect little omega I have. To make them jealous they can’t touch you like I can, can’t feel you tremble underneath them like I can..that they can’t...taste you...”

Ten pulled the panties down to Xuxi’s thighs and spread his cheeks apart, his hole pink and glistening with all the slick pouring out. Lucas moaned when he felt the flat of Ten’s tongue licking up the slick covering his thighs.

“Alpha...” Lucas whined, slumping further into the couch all the while pushing his ass closer to Ten “Please...Ten, please...”

Ten started to leave little kisses all over Xuxi’s asscheeks and finished it off with a bite before, finally, pushing his face between his spread cheeks. He could feel Lucas shaking, his thighs trembling when he started to suck on his rim. Slick kept gushing out of him to the point where Ten’s face was soaked, slick sticking to his hair, dribbling down his chin, falling from his eyelashes. He groaned at the feeling of being surrounded by Xuxi’s increasingly sweeter scent. He continued to push his tongue in and out of his hole, one of his hands letting go of his cheek to slide all the way around his hip to Xuxi’s small, leaking cock.

“Alpha, alpha, touch me...” Xuxi’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when Ten started to jerk him off, his tiny cock fitting perfectly inside Ten’s fist. The mixture of Ten’s tongue fucking his hole with the delicious pressure of his hand around his cock was driving Lucas closer and closer to his orgasm.

“You’re close aren’t you, puppy? Don’t hold on...” Ten pulled away for a second before going back to sucking on the rim. Lucas came with a sob, his little cock spurting cum all over Ten’s hand and more slick falling from his ass directly onto Ten’s awaiting tongue.

Ten left a wet kiss to Xuxi’s ass before pulling the panties back up and kissing up along his spine all the way to his neck. Lucas had a pleased smile on his face as he turned his head to share a gentle kiss with Ten.

“Your face is all wet and dirty...” Lucas mumbled between kisses. Ten just laughed before brushing his cheek against Xuxi’s, covering him in his own slick.

“My fingers are dirty too...clean them for me?” Ten pushed his cum covered fingers into Xuxi’s mouth who started to suck on them right away, his tongue dancing around each finger as he looked up at Ten, his innocent gaze contrasting with his actions. “Perfect...such a perfect little omega! Turn around, puppy, your knees must be getting tired...” Ten said once he deemed his fingers clean enough.

Lucas lifted himself up from the sofa on shaky legs before lying back down on his back. Ten sat down and pulled Xuxi’s legs on his lap, petting them slowly, letting his blunt fingernails gently graze the skin as Lucas moaned softly. His attention was drawn to the way Xuxi’s tiny cock was already hard inside his panties even though he had just climaxed.

“I think we kickstarted your preheat, puppy. Your heat is probably a couple hours away” Ten maneuvered himself so he was now lying down, his front close to Xuxi’s side. “Oh what a shame, I guess we’ll have to spend the next days in bed...my cock deep inside you...”He started to suck a bruise onto Xuxi’s neck, right above his mating bite and placed one of his hands on his stomach before moving it down, his fingers gently grazing over the small bulge on his lingerie before he slipped it inside, holding onto his tiny cock and jerking him slowly, almost teasingly.

“Alpha...please fuck me, please...” Lucas whined, a string of moans falling from his lips when he felt Ten tightening his grip around the head of his cock, his mouth still working on covering Xuxi’s neck in hickeys. “Want to make you feel good too...”

“Aren’t you just such a sweet and considerate puppy? Well, like I’ve said before...what my little omega wants, my little omega gets...” Ten sat back up and helped Lucas sit up too. “Come here, puppy...” he patted his own thighs and, this time, Lucas straddled him immediately, without any complaints.

Ten whispered sweet praises in his ear before starting to kiss down his neck, all the way down to his chest. He lowered part of the bralette, revealing one of Xuxi’s perky, light brown nipples and took it in his mouth. He could feel a new wave of warm slick wetting his legs as Lucas started to grind against him, his neglected cock springing to attention and leaking precum all over Xuxi’s panties. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they ran over Xuxi’s body, grabbing at his waist, moving towards his hips before settling on his ass.

He lifted his head at the same time that Lucas leaned down, their lips mashing together in a brutal kiss, their teeth clashing together and their tongues intertwined. Lucas moaned into Ten’s mouth, letting the alpha take control of the kiss, the grip on his ass tightening , hopefully enough to leave hand shaped bruises behind. They pulled away from the kiss, both breathless and in a moment of boldness Lucas grabbed one of Ten’s hands and slipped it inside his panties.

Ten played with the rim, massaging it with a finger, barely letting it slip inside before he was pulling out again. He did this numerous times, every time pulling a new whimper from Xuxi’s throat and a new gush of slick from his cute hole.

“Stop teasing! Please, alpha...” Lucas whined, the frustration clear in his voice as he tried to chase after the fingers Ten was, once again, trying to remove from his ass.

“Okay, puppy...I’ll stop now! You just looked so cute and so pouty, I couldn’t resist...” this just caused Xuxi’s already pouty lips to turn even poutier as he leaned down to place his head on Ten’s shoulder. “Can you give alpha a kiss? Let me kiss that pout away, baby...” Lucas obliged (he was a very good omega after all), letting Ten kiss him, gently this time, their lips brushing together so softly it was almost ticklish.

He was so distracted by the sweet kiss that when Ten finally slipped two fingers inside him in one swift movement, he could only groan, his hands grabbing tightly onto Ten’s shoulders. They broke the kiss and Ten tentatively inserted a third finger, marveling at how easily Xuxi’s hole opened up, offering no resistance whatsoever. He looked into Xuxi’s face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort but all he found was Lucas with his head thrown back, eyes shut and a pleased smile on his face. He scissored his fingers around for a bit, but it was obvious Lucas needed no preparation, the preheat causing him to produce more slick and his walls to easily accommodate any penetration.

“Are you ready, puppy? Want alpha’s cock?” Lucas nodded enthusiastically as Ten removed his fingers from his ass, using Xuxi’s slick to coat his own cock, which grew impossibly harder and leaked some more precum. He pushed Xuxi’s panties to the side and lined himself with his hole before Lucas started to sink down on Ten’s cock, breathless moans escaping his lips.

Once Lucas was fully seated on Ten’s cock, he started moving around, circling his hips, moaning both at the feeling of being so full and at the delicious friction of his silk panties against his little cock.

Ten placed his hands on Xuxi’s hips, helping him pull himself up and then sink back down. Lucas threw his hands around Ten’s neck, pulling him into a kiss as he kept on fucking himself on Ten’s big cock. Their pace started to increase and they soon worked out a fast rhythm, their lips close together but their kiss long forgotten as their breaths mixed with each breathless exhale.

“I’m so close, alpha...can I cum? Please, f-fuck Ten...alpha”

“Go ahead, puppy, cum on alpha’s cock...let everyone know who is making you feel this good...” Lucas cried out when Ten’s hand slid inside his panties to play with his cock and he came in a second with Ten’s name on his lips. Ten kept on praising him through his orgasm, his thrusts faltering but not stopping. “You’re so tight, puppy...get on your hands and knees for me...”

Lucas whined when Ten pulled him off of his cock, shuddering at the waterfall of slick that gushed out of him, but he did as he was told. Ten kneeled behind him and the view almost convinced him to eat him out again before the tingling sensation at the base of his cock brought him out of his thoughts. He pulled Xuxi’s panties to the side one more time and spread his cheeks before pushing into him again. Lucas sobbed, part from overstimulation, part from simple pleasure as Ten managed to hit his prostate from this new position.

Ten knew he wasn’t going to last long. Not when Lucas purposely clamped down on his cock so tightly. Not when the view of his cock going in and out of his loose hole, framed by the pushed aside silk panties was so sinful. And definitely not when Xuxi’s usual strawberry scent had now that unmistakably sweet heat undertone. He tried to thrust into Xuxi’s awaiting heat for as long as he could but, when his knot started to form, he was afraid to hurt him so he just pushed deep inside Lucas one last time and stayed there. He started to circle his hips, trying to get some friction but it was the sight of Xuxi’s fucked out gaze as sobs of “so full” fell from his lips that pushed Ten over the edge, his knot popping completely as he emptied himself inside his omega. The feeling of Ten’s warm cum shooting against his walls paired with his knot pressing into his prostate caused Lucas to cum once again, much stronger this time. He kept on trembling as his little cock spurted out cum for what seemed like minutes.

“Good job, puppy...you did so good for alpha. So, so good!” Ten covered Xuxi’s body with his own, leaving small kisses wherever he could reach, helping Lucas come down from his high.

The room was silent except for their laboured breathing until the front door open and closed. Seconds later Kun and Sicheng appeared in the living room, hands full of bags, taking in the situation. Sicheng was the first to approach them, squatting down next to Lucas to move the sweaty hair from his forehead and leave a kiss there, causing Lucas to let out a little contented noise. Ten took advantage of the increased manpower to move himself and Lucas around so they were both laying down on their sides, Ten’s knot still locking them together.

“We could smell him from the elevator...no wonder you guys triggered Dejun’s and Yangyang’s heats...” Kun yelled from the hallway as he came back from putting the bags on Xuxi’s room.

“We did what??” Ten asked incredulously. He never got an answer as Hendery stormed into the room.

“I have two very needy, very whiny omegas on my hands right now and only one dick! I need backup!” Kun and Sicheng let themselves be pulled by Hendery into Xiaojun’s room as Ten smiled and circled his arms around Xuxi’s waist, pulling him into a backhug. Lucas whimpered when Ten’s knot pressed into his prostate again and Ten simply left an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck, causing his satisfied smile to grow bigger.

[headoverhiddles]

The Band-Aid Effect - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: After a blow out fight, you and Marilyn have to survive a flight together. Maybe he'll have time in the airport to get back on your good side... maybe not.

Notes: Good old fashioned hate sex! Set during Mechanical Animals era!

"You know, you are a piece of work."

"All I said was, you look like Dora got a facial from Grape Ape, with that lipstick choice. Could've been a compliment. Wasn't, but I mean, it could've been. And the eyeliner? Sweetheart."

You two walk briskly down to gate B90 for your flight back to LA from Prague.

"You're such an asshole."

He takes your arm, moving his hand down to grip your wrist tightly as you both continue toward your airport gate.

"What?" you mutter, "Don't want me to cause a scene in front of the cameras?"

"I just wanted to hold your hand," Marilyn's drawl comes out from those pink painted lips. He lets go. "Make a scene. I don't care."

"Fuck, you're so apathetic."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks. I'm apathetic. Like I don't get that enough."

"Don't make this about your career. This is about us."

"Who bought you a fucking puppy for your birthday?!"

"It's not about the dog, it's about... co-existing in a healthy relationship, jesus!"

He spends a long time looking at you, as the two of you sit down at the first class gate. You're both silent for a good three minutes. He patters his nails along his knee. You cross your arms and look out the window, trying to let the sound of all the planes taking off calm you down. 

His voice jolts you out of your peaceful trance. "You know what I think?"

"Oh, please tell me," you nod. 

"I think what you need is a good fuck."

"Wow." You shouldn't even be surprised he would say that at this point.

"I do, you look like you could use a quickie. Quick fingering, you know, in and out."

"Sex isn't always the answer, Brian," you growl.

"No, but it's... a band-aid," he tries not to smirk.

"I'm not fucking you after you were a complete asshole to me this morning!"

"I'm sorry if I came off as insensitive."

"I spent a long time doing that makeup!"

"I mean, I would fuck you even if you had the other stuff on."

"Enough with the fucking!"

He cocks his head. "Really? Cause... your pussy might say something different. Maybe you should ask it."

"Maybe you should ask your dick why it's always hard!" You snap.

"That's easy, the answer is right in front of me." He glances down at your cleavage. "Need I remind you of my allergy?"

"What?!"

"I'm allergic to breasts. I break out in erections."

You start to smirk, but wipe it off your face. "You... are so..."

He puts his hand on your knee, and starts to rub higher.

"Baby girl, I want you."

"Literally fuck off right now."

"Okay. Alright," he nods. "You don't want it? Fine. I'm not gonna force you."

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, watch him purse his lips, and pick up a fashion magazine from the pile provided by the lounge.

"You know..." you sigh, "I'm just pissed, okay?"

"Which is the perfect reason to fuck."

"Oh my--"

"I want you to beat my ass, bite me all over and tell me I've been a bad little boy. Punish me for it."

"Like I can do that here."

"You know, it was proven in the 17th century that... like, women were less hysteric when they orgasmed, cause their like, uterus was floating around or something."

You glare at him in disgust. "That's fucking offensive!"

"Yeah well... have you met me?" he laughs helplessly.

"Get your fucking fingers... out of there, we're in an airport!"

"There's an airport bathroom right there."

"We can't just walk in together."

"Yes we can, I look like a woman."

He stands up, but you tug him back down.

"Jerk it yourself."

He puts his hands over his chest, pretending to be shocked. Don't look at him. Don't look at him-- fuck. He's biting his glittery lips, and you can already see the outline of his sizeable bulge.

"Babygirl. My dick is dying to get inside you," he whispers, "It's throbbing so bad, I think that... pissed off looking airline attendant lady is gonna hear it, I think she's gonna think it's a bomb."

You can't help it. You burst into a flurry of giggles, covering your mouth. Marilyn giggles with you, until he sits back down and rubs your back.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Mhm."

"...We can always wait til we're on the plane. I've always wanted to join the mile high club."

Without another word, you get up, grabbing his hand and leading him to the women's washroom. You get a few stares, but Marilyn keeps his head down so his long red hair tumbles over his face, and you generally go unnoticed until you get into a stall.

"Make it fast," you moan.

He purses his lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll make it fast and hard."

He turns you around, pressing your front up against the wall of the stall. You hear him unbuckling his belt, and he holds you by the back of the neck, rolling his hips a couple of times against your ass.

"Mmm, get it in me," you groan, and he smirks.

"Not so mad now, are we?"

You growl. "I'm this close to opening this goddamn door and showing the world your dick."

"That's not fair, it's not fully hard yet, it's not as big as it would b--"

You shut him up with a kiss, then he turns you around again, moving your hair aside to attach his lips to your neck. You moan, pushing back against him, and he parts your legs, positioning himself and--

"Ohh," he murmurs in your hair, "So wet."

"I had a... nice dream... last night. That's why..." you gasp out between his deep, rough thrusts.

"Mhmm. Sure." He sinks his teeth ever so slightly into your shoulder, and you have to force yourself to make any noise at all. You're so used to fucking in his house, where you can scream, bang around, shout whatever the fuck you want to with nobody around but Marilyn's cats (and the new dog) to hear.

"Bet you wanna scream my name, huh?" he whispers.

"M-mm-mm.... fuck... you..."

"You are fucking me," he grins, and gives a particularly hard thrust, chuckling deeply as he watches you fall apart. "And enjoying it too."

"God, I'm so... mad at you..." you manage out. "Think you can try actually making me cum?" It's a completely low blow, since he always does, but it has the desired effect.

He slams his hips in hard, and you gasp, starting to slam your hips back just as hard.

"You wanna fuckin' cum?" he growls in your ear, "I'll make you fuckin cum, little girl."

You two rock together like that, Marilyn holding one hand to your back to keep you pressed against the wall and the other hand squeezing your breasts.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispers, "How close are you? I'm about to make wet in you."

"Mfff... don't call it... that..."

"How c-close?"

"I'm almost there, ah," you gasp, reaching back, and he tugs your hair back, sucking a hickey right into your neck. He gives your ass a couple of spanks, not caring at this point who hears since they have probably heard the creaking of the stall by now. He squeezes your ass as he pumps in and out fast, chasing his and your orgasms.

"You like that? You like that?" He keeps fucking you hard. "How's that for an apology, huh?"

"Unghh," is all you can mutter, and you start to feel your toes curl and point as your climax approaches.

"Mar... Mar, oh god..."

"Fucking cum," he growls in your ear, "Cum for me, now." You bite your hand, holding the moan in as you cum hard on his cock. He keeps thrusting in, but strategically, rocking gently and rubbing your clit until he's sure your orgasm has waned. Then he fucks in hard again, giving three thrusts before he bites your shoulder again, stifling his own moan of your name. He slumps, and you both stand there for a second, catching your breath.

When Marilyn pulls out, you feel his cum dripping down your thigh. You smirk to yourself, pulling your panties up.

"Do you love me again now?" he whispers, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Probably," you sigh, and he peeks over the stall door. Nobody, thankfully. The two of you quickly exit the stall, and you regard yourself in the mirror. Other than the four hickies you've got populating your neck, your boyfriend's glittery lip gloss is all over your mouth.

"Well. It's an improvement from this morning's makeup job," he remarks, and you shove him out of the bathroom.

[spicyfloaty]

Give & Take | Chapter 5

pairing: kacchako

genre: slowburn/fluff

words: 2.7k

summary: Ochako's grades are slipping. Bakugo is dangerously nearing suspension, or worse, expulsion. A certain twist of fate pairs them together for tutoring sessions. He teaches her math. She keeps him from getting suspended. A simple exchange, but what if this only brings them closer than necessary?

header credits: @alexbenedetto

[READ ON AO3]

Chapter Four

Chapter Five: Happy?

It was weird seeing Bakugo in class the following week when he didn’t bother showing up to their second session last Friday.

The next day after their first session, Ochako had made a mental note to arrive 15 minutes earlier than the agreed upon time on their schedule, something about the image of Bakugo waiting for her, leaning against the doorway made her feel queasy. She made sure to bring two pens this time, the lingering thought of their fingers brushing past each other somehow made her feel more like she was going to hurl the whirlpool in her stomach into a glittery mess on the floor.

30 minutes pass and Bakugo is nowhere to be seen. That’s fine, it’s not really like him to show up on time, maybe he’s just running late. The 30 minutes that came after was when Ochako started to have second thoughts. Maybe it slipped his mind? It’s okay, we still have an hour to spare. The last hour goes by and Ochako is already out the door, her imagination had made the ground look like Bakugo with that smug look on his face and her angry footsteps were hellbent on stomping it off him. 

Did her little stunt with the eraser manage to piss him off that much somehow? No, this is Bakugo we’re talking about here. If she actually wanted to piss him off, it would take more than a piece of rubber for her to do that. Her thinking led her to the possibility of Bakugo requesting Aizawa for another student to tutor, she was surprised by the slight squeeze in her chest that accompanied the thought. Would he?  

Ochako slams her head onto her desk before her thoughts could go farther. Why should she care if he did? It just so happened that she needed a tutor and he needed a get out of jail free card at the same time, but it wasn’t exactly necessary for them to be what the other needed. He can do whatever he wants. 

It was only after the voices around her come to a standstill when she realized that suddenly ramming her head on her desk wasn’t the best thing to do when her friends were standing a few feet away from her, “Are you okay, Ochako?” Tsuyu asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine! My hand just um...slipped.” Ochako should really stop zoning out into thoughts about Bakugo around her friends. If anything, she should stop thinking about Bakugo in general.

“Are you sure?” Iida checks, “Your head hit the table quite harshly, you might have a concussion!”

Ochako quickly shakes her head and waves her hands in front of her, “No! I’m okay, don’t worry.” She was about to add to Tsuyu’s topic prior to the sudden interruption her head had made, when Todoroki decided to shift the conversational spotlight onto her, “How was your tutoring session with Bakugo?”

“Good!” She replies almost instinctively, her voice pitching a bit too high for someone who was trying to convince everyone that she was telling the truth. She was though, telling the truth. Their first session had already shown significant results, though it technically only lasted an hour thanks to a certain someone’s silent treatment and the bickering that followed it. The only thing that could turn her remark into a lie was the fact that he didn’t show up the second time around.

Ochako notices the confused looks on her friends’ faces, probably because she answered in such lightning speed, “We, um, it went well.” She adds. Way to go describing it in perfect detail, Ochako.

Everyone seemed to be satisfied with her detailed explanation except for Tsuyu, “Bakugo?”

Ochako almost face-palms herself, but Iida didn’t need more reasons to have Recovery Girl assess her for possible concussions. She had completely forgotten that Tsuyu didn’t know about her situation with Bakugo yet, she hadn't exactly asked about it, let alone brought it up whenever they were hanging out in her room, so she never had the chance to tell her.

“Yeah,” she confirms, “he’s been tutoring me.”

“Since when?”

“Last week,” She doesn't know what came over her, but she decides to paint a better picture for them, “We had a hard time...cooperating at first, but after um--hashing it out, we eventually started to get things done and I feel like it’s helped me improve so far.” She intentionally leaves out the part about her outburst and the singular desk they shared during the whole ordeal, they don’t need to know about that.

Deku was in the middle of asking a question when they hear Bakugo’s booming voice from the other end of the classroom, “Fucking drop it already, dunce face.”

Instead of doing as he says, Kaminari slings an arm around Bakugo, “I don’t know Bakugo, you were in such a rush to bail on us last week, you didn’t even tell us where you were going!” He says tauntingly.

Two questions spring inside Ochako’s head, the first one being: If he were in such a hurry to go to the first one why not bother showing up the next day? And the second one being: So his friends never asked about his meeting with Aizawa? Or did he just not tell them about her?

“All of you can fuck right off.” Bakugo spits, forcefully shrugging off Kaminari’s arm, only for it to be replaced by Kirishima’s.

“Come on, man, why were you in such a hurry to leave us so soon?” He pouts, bringing his free hand to his chest to make it seem like it was wounded by Bakugo’s actions. Kirishima also hits Bakugo’s vicious glare with the full force of his puppy dog eyes.

Sero joins the party, placing his hands on top of Bakugo’s head for his chin to rest on, Ochako couldn’t help but be amazed by the sheer bravery these three had,“You hiding something from us?” He teases, grinning at Bakugo from above.

Bakugo looked like he was three seconds away from exploding, “Another word and I beat all three of you to the fucking ground.” He growls behind gritted teeth.

Just when she thought those three were fearless, Mina approaches the lot with a devilish smile twisted on her lips, “I heard Bakugo was with a certain lady.” She points out in a sing-song voice, elongating the last syllable of her sentence.

A chorus of gasps and howls, the latter mostly coming from Kirishima, fill the room and Ochako doesn’t know if her face grew two shades pinker or just got completely devoid of all color at the implication Mina was trying to push. Sure, he was with her, a lady, during that time, but it wasn’t anything like what she was making it out to be. Bakugo and her? Please.

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Bakugo lifts himself from his seat but the three thorns on his side were quick enough to block his way. Kirishima stands in the forefront of the three-man barrier and even hardens himself in the event that Bakugo does stay true to his word, which was to, and she quotes, beat all three of them to the ground.

“No way we’re letting you go when you’ve been out here bailing on us to fool around with this lady you’ve never mentioned before,” Kirishima says as a matter-of-factly.

“You three fuckwipes have a deathwish or something?” Bakugo snarls. Ochako couldn’t agree more, these three were just asking for it.

“Nah,” Kirishima smirks, “Sero, tie him up.”

“You fucking assho--!” Sero gives Bakugo a little push back to his seat before trapping him in his chair with several layers of tape, “Tell us who she is or we ask Mina instead.” Kirishima threatens.

It’s almost a miracle that Bakugo’s chair doesn’t tip over from him trying to escape in order to accomplish the sentence he roars next, “I’ll fucking kill all of you!”  

“Not talking, eh?” Kaminari’s arms rest on his hips as he turns to Kirishima, “What now, boss?”

“Mina who’s th--Woah!” Sero starts to ask, but it takes all the effort for him to successfully maintain his tapes’ hold on Bakugo from breaking, “Mina, who’s the girl?” Kirishima finishes for him as he turns to Mina, the dirty look on her face only growing more sinister by the second.

“Dont you fucking dare, raccoon eye s.” Bakugo hisses, still trying to pry himself off of Sero’s grasp.

“I don’t wanna expose anyone here so let’s just call her by the name of…” Mina pretends to think about it for a moment, only for a sickening smile to sneak its way onto her face, “OCHAKO URARAKA!”

Everyone's eyes were instantly on her except for Bakugo’s and she begins to wish for that concussion Iida was talking about not too long ago. She’d much rather be in the care of the school’s sweetheart of a nurse than to be in the presence of her classmates’ inquisitive stares and suggestive smiles. She’d follow Bakugo’s example of getting out of here as quick as possible, but it was too late for that. Instead, she hides behind the palms of her hands, hoping for either death or unconsciousness.

Bakugo’s aversion doesn’t go unnoticed by his friends, “So it is true!” Kaminari declares.

“Why don’t you come over here and find out, dunce face?” Bakugo breathes out, seething with malice, “Raccoon eyes already told you didn’t she? So there’s no need for me to be tied up now is there, flat face?” he turns to Sero, a menacing smile filled with homicidal intent twists in his lips.

Sero audibly gulps, “Uh, I don’t know about that, man, you look like you’re just about ready to tear us apart limb from limb.”

“FUCKING RIGHT I WI--” Another piece of tape slaps itself on Bakugo’s mouth.

“Wait! There’s more!” Mina hurriedly adds while jumping excitedly at the extra piece of gossip she’s been holding out on, “I heard from Hagakure, who heard from Jirou, who heard from Momo, who heard from Todoroki that he was also tutoring her! How adorable is that?”

Ochako instantly whips her head towards Todoroki’s direction at the mention of his name, she was already puzzled by the fact that this information had spread like wildfire in such a short period of time, but she never expected the root cause of it to be Todoroki.

Todoroki looked as shocked as Ochako was, it seemed that he was also hearing this for the first time, “She did?” He asks cluelessly.

Momo turns to him, “We were going over last week’s homework and you mentioned that Bakugo and Uraraka were probably doing the same thing during that time.” she explains as if she was teaching a toddler how to spell.

Todoroki stares at his desk for a moment before the memory of that conversation clicks in his head, “Oh.” He turns to face Ochako, “My apologies.”

Before anyone could react or say anything else, Mr. Aizawa enters the classroom. Everyone returns to their seats just in the nick of time. His attention immediately focuses on Bakugo, still very much tied to his chair, muffled profanities coming from the piece of tape still plastered on his mouth.

Mr. Aizawa sighs, “I’m not even going to ask.”

---

Ochako caught up with her friends in the hallway after class, her head still spinning from all the new lectures along with the entire gossip-fueled-dumpster-fire of an ordeal just a few hours ago. Her thoughts drift back to the two questions that had sprung inside her head a while ago, Why didn’t he tell them that this thing between them was mandatory? It’s not like he was the one who offered to tutor her, contrary to popular belief.

Judging by his behavior and overall reactions under the prying questions of his friends, she assumes that maybe Bakugo just wasn’t the kind of person who would open up to anybody so easily, even to his friends. He would have to tell them about his situation with his conduct and how close he was to getting suspended or even expelled if he were to say that their sessions were only pre-arranged and not voluntary. She didn’t think that Bakugo would like to be the center of everyone’s worry, or worse, pity.

Somehow, she understood where Bakugo was coming from. She was practically doing the same thing by hiding her father’s injury and part-time job from her friends for nearly the same reasons. With this understanding, she taps Todoroki on the shoulder, “Todoroki? Is it okay if you try to be careful next time and not mention the meeting with Aizawa to anyone else?”

She turns to Iida and Deku, “The same goes for both of you too.”

“I would like to apologize for my mistake once more,” Todoroki starts, “it was not my place to disclose that to Yaoyorozu.” he says with utmost sincerity.

“Of course, Midoriya and I will also keep that mind.” Iida adds.

“Why though? If you don’t mind me asking,” Deku interjects, “Is everything alright with Kacchan?”

“Yes, it’s just that,” Ochako tries her best to answer him without looking at him directly, “it’s not my place to say, but I think it’s important to just keep it to ourselves for now, okay?”

“Okay.” Deku says reassuringly. Her eyes meet his for a brief moment when she spots a familiar mop of blonde hair behind him, she turns to Iida, “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up and meet you guys at the cafeteria.”

She swiftly walks past Deku, making her way towards Bakugo, “Bakugo!”

His head snaps back, piercing, red eyes locking her in place again, “What?” He barks. Guess she wasn’t the only one with that ordeal still on the back of their head. She stops right in front of him, suddenly forgetting what she was about to say, so she just blurts out the first thought from the top of her head, “Sorry about what happened a while ago.”

His eyebrows furrow, gaze still boring holes into her skull, “And what the hell are you apologizing for?”

“Well,” Her eyes avoid his gaze, “I should’ve said something back there.” She could have ended any sort of implication that the two of them were a thing had she only spoken up about it before it got out of hand.

He lifts an eyebrow, “Like what?”

“Well for starters, the fact that we aren't dating.” She points out.

“Tch, that’s pretty obvious.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

“That’s not what they thought a while ago.” She retorts, folding her arms on her chest this time. She wasn’t about to let Bakugo intimidate her, two can play this game.

“Who cares what they think?” Bakugo spits, “If you want to tell them, then go right ahead, but if you’re just gonna waste my time bitching about something you can do yourself, I suggest you fucking beat it, round face.” His glare sends shivers down her spine, How is he so good at that?

Ochako sighs, “Nevermind,” then finally remembering the reason why she approached him in the first place, “I came here to talk about last Friday.”

“What about it?” He snaps.

She narrows her eyes at him, “You know what.”

“I just missed one day, round face, missed me already?” That smug look that she hated so much makes its way into his face again, the corner of his mouth twisting into a punchable grin.

She couldn’t roll her eyes far enough in response to that, “I sat there for two hours waiting for you.” She places both hands on her hips before she gives into the growing urge to punch him, “Where were you?”

“I don’t remember it being your business to know where I am and how I spend my time.” He retorts.

She throws her hands up in frustration, “It is my business since you’re the one who stood me up!” She instantly feels the eyes of the students passing by land on her. Ochako’s face flushes at how she phrased her words. She won’t be able to blame them if they thought that what they just saw was a couple in the middle of a heated argument and to make matters more suggestive, she adds, “It’s like you’re not even serious about this!”

Bakugo looks at her dead in the eyes when he says, “I am serious.”

An exasperated sigh escapes his lips as he raked his fingers through the blonde knotts of his hair, “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

“Try me.”

Bakugo’s eyes darted away as he spoke, “My mom was sick,” he began, his hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I went home to cook for the old hag.”

Ochako just stands there, feeling stupider with every passing second. A surge of guilt floods her as she imagined Bakugo taking care of his mother while she was at school, pretending that the floor was his face and before she could apologize, Bakugo interupts her, “And before your dumbass apologizes, she’s okay now.” He looks away once more, eyes focused on the ground as he turns away, “You got your answer, now scram.”

“Wait!” She catches his sleeve before he could get any farther.

Red eyes, blazing with burning inferno meet hers, “What now?!”

“Can I get your number?” She hastily asks.

The creases on his forehead disappear and the flickers of flame inside his eyes dim to a look of complete and utter confusion, “Two minutes ago, you said we weren’t dating.”

She immediately lets go of his sleeve, quickly shaking both hands in front of her, “No! Not like that ! It’s so we’d have some sort of way to let each other know when something like that comes up again!”

Bakugo studies her for a while, “What if I said no?”

Ochako’s face gawks at him, “You wouldn’t.” She regretted it the moment she said it when she saw the glint of competitiveness in his eyes. She should’ve known better than to tell Bakugo Katsuki what he could and couldn’t do.

He grins, “Watch me.”

Ochako missed the opportunity to grab onto his sleeve again as he disappeared into the sea of students beginning to flood the hallway. A knot forms in the pit of her stomach. An unpleasant, annoying, borderline infuriating knot with Bakugo’s name written all over it.

It’s not until she receives a text from an unknown number hours later, during her shift at work that this knot comes undone, sending a wave of relief flurry inside her veins and maybe just a few butterflies in her gut.

Unknown Number: Happy?

Another text follows immediately after.

Mina: GIRL BAKUGO JUST ASKED ME FOR YOUR NUMBER !!!!!!!

[afternoonteawithme]

Hi @erenlevijeager! I’m your Secret Levi :) 

(read it on AO3) 

As Levi pushed his way through the throngs of people filling the street, all too busy gawking up at the tacky lights over their heads to pay attention to where they walked or what they did with the bulky shopping bags they all seemed to be carrying, he thought longingly of his quiet, warm living room, his comfortable couch, the new book he’d picked up that morning. He wondered, most definitely not for the first time that evening, what in hell he was doing here.

And then the crowd in front of him parted, and he saw his reason.

Eren Jeager had tumbled into Levi’s life a little more than a year ago, when he’d gotten a job at the café attached to the museum where Levi worked. Levi had taken one good, hard look, and then spent the next few months doing his best to pretend he hadn’t fallen instantly in lust.

It hadn’t worked. In fact, it had worked so badly that Eren had been living with him for almost three weeks now.

Levi’s organized, structured, predictable life had been shattered. He’d gone to more dinners, parties, spent more time out with friends over the last six months than he had in the whole decade before. Suddenly, he shared his bed, his shower, his kitchen cupboards, even his comfortable couch. Someone else’s clothes hung in his closet, sat in his dresser. Another man shaved into his bathroom sink in the mornings, and two toothbrushes sat in the little jar they’d picked out together. They’d even been talking about going to the shelter, picking up a dog.

Maybe two.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, Levi had fallen in love with the asshole, and nothing would ever be the same.      

Brown hair a little messy from the wind, eyes bright, glittering, and with a gigantic grin spread across his face, the love of Levi’s life laughed at him as he reached out to grab his hand. “There you are! Don’t get lost, we’ll never find each other again in this crowd.”

An elbow jabbed Levi in the back, knocking him forward a step. With a hiss, he leaned in towards Eren’s ear, almost shouting to be heard over the crowd, the traffic, and the obnoxiously cheerful music piped in over it all. “Why are we here, again?”

“Because it’s Christmas Eve, Levi.”

“I know it is. That’s why half the city is out here with us. But why are we here?”

Laughing, shaking his head, Eren kept pulling Levi through the throngs of people. “Because it’s the holidays, and we can’t just stay home and do nothing. Come on, let’s go look at the lights in the park.”

“I like staying home and doing nothing.” Levi thought longingly of the box of tea he’d bought that morning, sitting sealed and unused on his kitchen counter. He hunched his shoulders. “It’s too damn cold to be outside, anyway.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” With another laugh, Eren tugged Levi out of the flow of people, pulling him into a little empty pocket at the side of the sidewalk. He slid his arms around Levi’s waist, made round and puffy by his thick coat. “Come on, this’ll be fun. Haven’t you ever gone to see the pretty lights for the holidays?”

Levi snorted, though, since it was cold, after all, he snuggled in a little closer, raising his own arms to slip his hands beneath Eren’s warm scarf and anchor them behind his neck. “Why would I?”

“Then what do you usually do on Christmas Eve?”

“I stay home, alone. Out of the cold and the insanity.”

“Well, this is our first Christmas together, so alone is out.” And then, for the first time since he’d dragged Levi out of their apartment earlier that evening, the bright happiness on Eren’s face faded. “Unless you really don’t want to?”

“No, I-”

“I mean, I know we haven’t really been living together for all that long. Maybe I’m being too pushy.” Eren bit his lip, his voice a little uncertain when he continued, “I thought we could make some new traditions, just the two of us. But maybe you’d rather do your own thing?”  

“I didn’t say that. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You don’t hate it? You’ll try and have fun?” Eren’s eyes were anxious as they studied Levi’s expression.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s go look at the damn lights.”

The sad look on Eren’s face evaporated at light speed, replaced by such a wide, beaming smile that Levi felt suspicion bloom in his soul. He narrowed his eyes. “You were faking it?”

Eren blinked innocently. “Faking what?”

“You’re such a sneaky asshole.”

“Now why would you say something so hurtful.” Eren leaned down, bopped a kiss onto the tip of Levi’s nose. “Coming?”

“That won’t work forever, you know. One of these days you’ll try those puppy dog eyes on me and I’ll just laugh.”  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Weaving his arm through Levi’s, Eren tugged him back into the flow of bodies moving along the pavement. “But if I did, I’d say that sounds like fun. I like it when I make you laugh.”

“Not this time, you won’t.”

“No?” Eren shot a mischievous grin down at Levi. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

It took them a few minutes to weave their way out from the crowd when they reached the park, but once they finally broke free, they found the park itself easier to move through than the sidewalk they’d left behind. There was a fair of some kind set up, and couples and small groups of people wandered between the booths that lined the paths and across the wide greens scattered with trees and strange wire frame creatures, all cheerfully lit with bright multi-colored lights.    

And over it all, that ubiquitous and tinny music continued to gleefully bounce through the air.

Levi smelled roasted nuts, apple cider, and hot chocolate. He wondered, just for a moment, if the cheap food stall hot chocolate might possibly taste as good as it smelled.  

“Oh, look!” Eren darted forward, dragging Levi with him towards one of the booths. He pushed through the thick press of bodies of other fairgoers browsing tables heaped high with glittery and sparkly decorations, heading straight for a well tossed over display of hats, headgear, elf ears, and Santa beards.

He grabbed one of the headbands and slipped it onto his head, before turning to smile angelically at Levi. “What do you think? Suits me, right?”  

A tinsel halo, held up by thin wire, hovered a few inches above Eren’s head. “They got any devil horns?”

Eren rolled his eyes, unoffended. “They wouldn’t, it’s all Christmas stuff. What about these?” He swapped the halo for a pair of felt reindeer antlers.

He looked so damned adorable, with his flushed cheeks and wind-tossed hair sticking out in all directions. Levi’s fingers itched to stroke it back, off his forehead, so he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “They’re alright.”

Paying no attention, Eren picked up a fuzzy Santa hat, plopped it onto Levi’s head. He nodded firmly. “Now that works almost too well.”

It slid down over Levi’s eye, and he pushed it back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, well.” Eren tilted his head, even as he reached out to adjust the hat’s position, his fingertips cold as they brushed against Levi’s skin. “I can’t really explain. It somehow suits you, though I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know how warm and gooey you really are under that suspicious glare you always watch me with.”

Offended, Levi jerked his head back. “I am not gooey.”

Eren’s eyes were laughing, but direct, when they met Levi’s. “I think you are, though. And I like the hat on you.” He stepped in a little closer, dropping his voice. “I think you look sexy in it.”

“How the hell is it sexy? It’s a Santa hat.”

“Yeah, but you’re wearing it.” Eren grinned at the look on Levi’s face. “Still, if you don’t like it-” He reached out to pull it off of Levi’s head.

Almost before Levi realized what he was doing, his hands slapped over the hat, holding it in place. “Leave it. It’s warm. Plus, if I’m Santa, and you’re one of my reindeer, doesn’t than mean you have to do what I tell you?”

Eren blinked, but the corners of his mouth were curved as he studied Levi. “And what are you planning on having me do?”  

They were already standing directly in front of each other, but Levi took another half step forward, until he could stand on tiptoe, brace his hand against Eren’s chest, and breathe into his ear. “You can start by giving Santa a good, hard ride, later tonight.”

He’d said it expecting Eren to laugh, or at least roll his eyes. Instead, when he stepped back and looked expectantly up at Eren, he found a very, very strange expression on his face.

When Eren spoke, his words were slow, careful, and his eyes were locked on the Santa hat Levi wore. “I’m not sure what’s worse, the picture you just put in my head, or the fact that I’m a little turned on right now.”

It took Levi a second. He jerked back a little, staring up at Eren with wide eyes. “Oh hell no. I didn’t paint that picture, you did that all by yourself.”

“You started it. I was just being a good little angel.”  

“Uh-huh. Pervert.” Levi yanked the Santa hat off, turning away to drop it back onto the display.

“Well, maybe, a little. You still started it.” And then Eren let out a yelp that made Levi jump, spin back around. He found Eren crouching down and rummaging through the pile of merchandise that had fallen onto the floor beneath the display. “No way! How’d this get here?” He snatched out his prize, a cheap plastic crown with the words ‘Birthday Boy’ printed across the front.

He stood back up, setting it carefully on Levi’s head, then pulled away to study it. “Perfect.”

Levi hunched his shoulders. “It’s not as warm as the Santa hat.”

A wicked grin spread over Eren’s face. “Yeah, but the birthday boy is a lot more likely to actually get laid.”

“Oh well then.” Startled, Levi laughed. “I’ll take this one then.”

Eren leaned back, smiling down at him with an odd look in his eye.

“What?”

“I told you, I just really love it when you laugh.”

Levi blinked, a little embarrassed. “That wasn’t the type of laugh I was threatening you with.”

“No, but I like them all. Happy Birthday, Levi.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.”

“I just wanted to be the first to say it. I’ll tell you again, in a few hours. In any case, I love you, Levi. Happy Birthday.”

Levi flushed, shifted, feeling both warmth and embarrassment filling his chest. “Yeah. I um, love you too.”

Eren’s lips curved. “Do you think, one day, you won’t be embarrassed when you tell me that?”

“Maybe. Don’t know.” Desperate to change the subject, Levi frantically looked around the booth. “Where the hell do we pay for these things, anyway?”

When they finally left the booth – proud owners of one plastic birthday crown and one pair of antlers – Eren slid his arm around Levi’s shoulders, and after a quick inner battle, Levi nestled in against his side.

As they moved on through the booths, along the brightly lit paths, he realized that at some point he’d stopped minding all the people around them, and when he glanced up at the lights sparkling over their heads, he found them remarkably pretty. Even the ever-present music, as tacky as it was, somehow didn’t seem to be all that annoying anymore.

Despite the bitter cold, he felt warm.  

And as he walked through the lights beside Eren, Levi decided that he liked this new tradition of theirs, after all.

[redwoodwrites]

Relativity Falls Season 1 Episode 1: Tourist Trap

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12579416/chapters/28652568

Next

A/N:Welcome, one and all, to Relativity Falls! Here you will find the adventures of a certain dynamic duo as they spend the summer at their Grauntie Mabel's utterly tacky tourist trap. Updates will be every Friday, and after each episode there will be a “Short”, a much shorter original fanfiction which occurs in the time between the episodes. See you in a few days, and enjoy All Hallow's Eve! Warning: *This fanfiction may trigger feels, warm fuzzies, and certain amounts of deja vu. *May cause minor amounts of time travel (forward only) *Author does not claim responsibility for any sightings of ghosts, triangles, or woodpeckers that may or may not occur during or after the reading of this text.  Enjoy!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The golf cart plunged over a cliff, punched straight through a billboard, and landed with a squeal on the road below. The two boys in the cart held on for dear life.

“WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE WE'RE GONNA DIE!” Stanley screamed.

Ford jerked the wheel, fishtailing around a hairpin turn. “Hold on!”

The ground shook with an ominous thumping.

Stanley twisted around, gripping the seat's back so hard his knuckles went white. “Floor it, Ford, it's gaining on us!”

A huge monster rose behind them, throwing a massive shadow over the road. The thing was over thirty feet tall, a crazy conglomeration of glaring eyes, sharp teeth, and bright red hats.

It ripped up a redwood as easily as a dandelion, took aim, and threw. Ford looked up and gasped as the tree soared right over their heads, landing so hard it bounced on the road in front of them.

“Look out!”

Ford jerked the wheel. The golf cart careened, tipping left, then right, skidding crazily. The tree's huge trunk loomed like a brick wall. They braced themselves against the dash and screamed.

A few days earlier...

The bus pulled away from the stop sign, leaving Ford and his brother standing alone on the sidewalk. Stanley had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the superhero-themed band aids on his arms, and the suitcase sitting next to him was covered with half-chewed gum.

Ford was wearing his signature aviator jacket, his notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. His suitcase was covered with stickers of ghosts and monsters.

Ford shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around expectantly. The town's main road was lined with a few stores, most of them restaurants, plus some arcades, a couple of hardware stores, and a grocery store. Aside from a few random pedestrians, the street was empty.

“She does know we're coming, right?” he asked anxiously.

“Dude, who cares?” Stanley put a foot on his suitcase and struck a heroic pose, shading his eyes like an explorer in a new land. He peered at the redwoods that surrounded the town. “Did you even see this place? It's got nothing but forest for miles! It's the perfectly place for buried treasure!”

Ford rolled his eyes, grinning. “Stanley, we don't have treasure yet.”

“Not yet we don't, but I'll bet you anything we'll find it!” Just then Stan's stomach rumbled. He looked down at it. “Right. First things first. Food time!”

Ford opened his mouth to say they should wait to be picked up, but his stomach cut him off. It had been an eight-hour bus ride and he was seriously hungry. He looked around.

“I think I saw a diner around here...”

“There!” Stanley pointed. There was a restaurant set back against the woods, with a flickering neon sign that read Greasy's Diner.

“Sounds...greasy. We don't even have any money,” Ford pointed out. “You spent our food allowance buying those dumb scratch cards. And all they had on 'em were football players with omelets.”

Stanley shrugged cheerfully. “Don't worry, Sixer, the puppy-dog face works every time! Race you to the door!” He ran into the street.

There was a roar and a screech of tires. Ford yelled. Stanley jumped back, narrowly avoiding a bright purple motorcycle. Stan lay on the ground, shaking a little, and Ford ran to help him up. He glared at the driver.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” he growled.

The rider, a heavy-set woman in a blue blazer and pink skirt, revved the engine. “'Scuse you,” the lady grumped, her voice muffled. “What were ya tryin' to do, kid? That is not how you paint the town red.”

“Guh-guh-guh,” Stanley stammered.

The rider paused, then flicked up the visor. She blinked. “Stanley?”

He stared at her. “Huh?”

“It is you!” She whipped off the helmet. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she had a heart-shaped face with light green eyes that glowed with warmth. “And you must be Stanford!” she said to Ford. “You two have grown so much I didn't even recognize you!”

The twins gaped.

“Grauntie Mabel?” Ford finally asked.

“The one and only! Hop aboard, kids, we got a lot of work to do at the Shack!”

They looked at the bike. It wasn't just purple. It was glittery purple, with a chrome finish and a matching side car so rusted it looked ready to disintegrate on the spot.

“Um, there's just one seat,” Ford said.

“Meh, you're each, like, half of an adult! So together you'll be fine!”

A slow grin spread across Stanley's face. “She's got you there, Sixer!” He scrambled to his feet. “So you're really Grauntie Mabel? I don't remember you being so fat.”

“And I don't remember you being so ugly,” she said cheerfully. “Now grab your gear and get in, time is money!”

They hauled their suitcases into the sidecar. It was so small they had to sit with their knees pressed to their chest and they couldn't even take a deep breath. She tossed them a couple of helmets and then took off with a roar, tearing down the quiet road at a decidedly illegal speed.

The bike's engine was too loud for talking, but the town had sights enough to keep them occupied. There was a church, a deserted convenience store, a junkyard, and a gigantic mall. Ford caught his brother staring at the mall, mouthing “babes” with a familiar gleam in his eye. Ford laughed.

The buildings petered out as they turned onto Gopher Road. The forest, which was always in the background of the town, now loomed up around them. The redwoods spiced the air with a sharp, earthy smell. Beams of sunlight sliced the forest with bars of yellow light. Motes of dust and quick-winged birds darted through the canopy, and wind rustled the treetops, which were high enough to touch the clouds.

But the trees grew so thick that they cast deep shadows starting just a few feet from the road. More than once Ford thought he saw movement in those shadows – things that scuttled and creeped and seemed to be watching them as they passed. He shivered.

The sudden appearance of the clearing drove the thought from his mind. Mostly because of what was in the clearing.

A two-story, steeple-roofed cabin stood in the middle of the lawn, completely covered in hot pink glitter, right up to the weathervane (which, instead of the cardinal directions, had the letters W, H, A, and T). Under the gaudy sparkles, he could make out a large sign reading “MYSTERY SHACK” positioned on the roof, with a dozen smaller advertisements above the front and side entrances. An enormous pig lounged on the front porch.  A sign next to it read, 'Picture With Pig - $50!' A Native American totem pole was rose a few yards away, but it was hard to tell what the animals were, since all of them were wearing sweaters of various neon colors.

“Um, wow,” Stan said dubiously, as soon as the engine died.

“Don't mind the glitter,” Mabel said cheerfully. “The girls and I just went a little nuts on our last sleepover.”

“Sleepover?” Stanley muttered to Ford. “But she's, like, grandma-age.”

They got out of the sidecar, grabbed their suitcases, and followed their great-aunt. The pig opened one eye and oinked at them, but otherwise didn't move.

The inside, at least, was less sparkly. They'd entered through the Mystery Shack's Gift Shop. Wood floors, wood walls, and a wood ceiling gave off a definite 'cabin' vibe. Most of the walls were covered in overpriced merchandise and taxidermy monstrosities. There were some clothing racks on the right, next to some tables loaded with snow globes and Grauntie Mabel bobbleheads. The back wall had a vending machine and two doorways, one marked “Employees Only” and the other marked “Museum”. The cash register was on their left, under a stuffed bear head with a narwhal horn glued to its brow. A red-haired teenager in a flannel shirt sat behind the register, his face jammed into a Manly Muscles magazine.

Their great-aunt stood in the center of the shop, legs planted wide and hands at her hips. “Alright, kids, welcome to the Mystery Shack!” she said, gesturing grandly. “Meet our first underpaid employee: Flannel Man!”

“It's 'Boyish Dan',” the teen grunted, without glancing up.

“I'll call you that when you stop reading at work!” Mabel sang. “Flannel Man, meet my great-nephews...my grephews?...Stanley and Stanford Pines!”

“Just 'Ford,'” Ford said, at the same time Stan said, “Just 'Stan'.”

“We also have a mechanic around here somewhere,” Mabel told them. “She's usually fixing things, or breaking them, or both at the same time...oh, Maria! Perfect timing!”

The Employees Only door opened, and a woman in her early twenties stepped through. She wore a faded green hat over her curly dark brown hair, a size-XXXL Mystery Shack shirt, and khaki shorts. One hand gripped a tool box, and the other held a broom.

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ria, this is Stan and Ford! My grephews! I told you they'd be coming today.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ria said politely. “Mrs. Pines, I fixed the pipes, but I might've broken the copy machine.”

“Oh, that wasn't you, it's been broken for ages,” Mabel assured her. “Anyway, you two boys go throw your stuff in the attic, and then come back down. I've got a tour bus coming at eleven hundred sharp and I need this place to look spic 'n' span!”

“Wait-wait-wait,” Stan said quickly, holding up his hands. “You mean we're gonna do chores?! But we're on summer vacation!”

Their great-aunt pulled two orange coveralls from behind her back. They had black letters on the front reading “Unpaid Intern #1” and “Unpaid Intern #2” on them in big black letters. She grinned mischievously.

“Not anymore! Now get to work, suckers!”

Stanley managed to talk Grauntie Mabel out of the overalls, but she wasn't kidding about making them work. In the first two days of their stay, they scrubbed the Shack from roof to lawn, swept the house, cleaned out the fridge (Ford swore that was actual glitter in that chicken casserole), and reorganized practically the entire Gift Shop. The only thing they didn't clean was the vending machine, which Mabel declared off-limits after she caught Stan stealing twelve candy bars at a time. They'd even had to re-sew some of the taxidermic monstrosities in the Museum.

The exhibits in there drove Ford crazy. It was all he could do not to shout out corrections when she guided tourists through, calling jackalopes “Antelabbits” and introducing them to bizarre creatures like the “Centaurtaur.” Ford was pretty sure she'd just made that up.

Stan, however, loved it. There was at least one hot babe per bus, and he was determined to make a move on every single one.

Ford watched his brother approach a blue-eyed brunette who was browsing through the shirt rack.

“Do you know a good dentist?” Stan asked, leaning casually on the rack and grinning. “'Cuz you're so sweet I'm gonna get cavities.”

She leaned away from him. “Um, ew.”

Stan didn't give up. “So do you have a name, or should I just call you 'mine'?”

“You can call a lawyer, 'cuz I'm about to sue for harassment,” she snapped, and stalked out of the shop.

This had happened so many times that Stanley didn't even look fazed. He scoffed, turned to the window, and eyed the next busload of tourists shuffling around the lawn.

“Welp,” he said, “one babe down, thirteen to go!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Stan, some of those girls are like, Mom's age.” He wiped off a jar of eyeballs (which he was convinced watched him when he wasn't looking). “I know you're getting all girl-crazy, but could you turn it down a notch?”

“Not until I get a girlfriend,” Stan said with determination. “All those girls in Jersey were stupid-heads. Now that we're here, I'm going to find the perfect girl to date me.”

“That doesn't mean flirting with every girl you see. Remember when you hit on that lady with a pet turtle? She looked ten years older than you!”

“So I have a thing for older women.” Stan threw one arm around his brother. “Come on, Sixer, I need a wingman! We can both land a hot girl this summer!”

Ford glanced reflexively at his hands, but Stan didn't notice.

“Besides,” he went on, “I got a good feeling about this summer! I wouldn't be surprised if the girl of my dreams walked through that door right now!”

The second Stan pointed to the front door, Grauntie Mabel walked through it and belched up a handful of glitter.

“Ugh, eating actual glitter, not good, ow,” she grumbled.

“Ew, why?!” Stan yelped. Ford laughed.

“Alright, people,” Mabel announced, “I need someone to go hammer these signs in the spooky part of the forest!”

“Not it!” Stan yelled.

“Not it!” Ford echoed.

“Uh, also not it!” Ria called, nailing up a new shelf on the wall.

“No worries, Ria. Flannel Man, I need you to put up these signs for me, please!”

He glanced up. “That's a left-handed hammer. I only use my right hand! The manly hand!” He leaped to his feet. “I'm gonna go make a right-handed hammer right now! HYAAAH!” He ran out the door.

“Oh, not again,” Mabel muttered. “Alright, let's make it eenie, meenie, miney...you.” She pointed to Ford.

He flinched. “What? But Grauntie Mabel, whenever I'm in those woods I feel like I'm being watched.”

“I've been in those woods a hundred times, kiddo. How many times do I have to tell you there's nothing scary in there?”

“Except maybe bears,” Stan added.

“Why don't you do it?” Ford demanded, looking at Stan. “You're the one who wanted to hunt for buried treasure!”

“Nope, she picked you, sucker! See ya!” He dashed out the door after Boyish Dan.

“But it's creepy!” Ford insisted. “I'm telling you, there's something weird about this town. Look – yesterday my mosquito bites spelled out 'BEWARE'!” He pulled up his sleeve to show Mabel.

She peered at it. “First, that says 'BEWARB.' Second, there's no such thing as the supernatural. And third, the longer you wait, the darker it'll get, so hop to it!” She dumped the signs into his arms and moved past him to handle the tourists.

“This is so not fair,” Ford grumbled, hammering up another sign. This deep into the forest, the thick trees cast an eerie shadow over everything. Even the sky looked tombstone gray. “Why doesn't anyone believe me when it comes to the supernatural? I know something's not right here...”

Clang.

Ford blinked. The tree he'd just hammered sounded...metallic. He leaned closer and tapped it again with the hammer.

Clang, clang.

“...huh.”

He ran his fingers over the bark, leaving trails through the dust and dirt. His fingers caught on something and he pulled.

A portion of the tree trunk swung open.

There was a rectangular compartment lined with metal recessed into the tree. Centered on the bottom was some kind of control box, with a dusty screen, a few weird buttons, and a couple of levers. With growing fascination, Ford leaned forward, tapping the buttons and toggling one of the levers.

WHIIRRRR!

Ford spun around. A section of the grass had retracted, revealing another compartment set into the ground.

Grauntie Mabel's pig, which had apparently followed him out here with surprising stealth, gave a startled oink and waddled quickly away.

Ford hurried over.

The compartment was full of cobwebs, millipedes, beetles – and one very old, very filthy book, covered in layers of dirt and dust. Ford picked it up carefully and blew the dust away.

The book was bound in deep blue leather, the corners reinforced with a dull bronze-colored metal. In the middle of the cover was a gold pine tree with the number “3” written on it, shimmering against the blue background. The book looked very old, and very strange, like an ancient tome from some kind of secret society.

“Whoa,” he breathed. He laid it carefully on the grass. His head was spinning with questions. Who would hide a book way out here, in such an elaborate hiding spot? Who built the mechanisms? What amazing secrets were written on these very pages?

He opened the book.

The inside cover had an owner's label, but the name had been ripped off. There was a monocle attached to the binding. He picked it up for a moment, weighing it in his hand, before he turned the page and began reading aloud.

“'It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon.'”

Secrets? Ford was right – there was something going on in Gravity Falls!

He flipped eagerly through the pages. They were filled with illustrations of strange beasts – eyebats, gnomes, gremloblins, with notes taken in precise cursive. There were also several lines of strange symbols and numbers, obviously some kind of code.

“What is all this?” Ford whispered.

He stopped flipping the pages and started to read again. A bold subtitle had caught his eye: Trust no one.

“'Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this journal before he finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls, there is no one you can trust!'” He picked up the book and stared at the words. “No one you can trust...”

“HELLO!”

“GAH!” Ford jumped and nearly dropped the book.

Stan sat on the log behind him, grinning from ear to ear. “I swear, Sixer, I shoulda pretended to be a bear. Betcha woulda peed your pants! Hey –” He caught sight of the book in Ford's hands. “Whatcha readin' there, some nerd thing?”

“Uh – uhhh, it's nothing!” Ford said, hiding the book under one arm.

“'Uhhh, it's nothing!'” Stanley mimicked, laughing again. “What, are you actually not gonna show me?”

Ford felt a slight tugging on his book. Grauntie Mabel's stealth pig had come back and was chewing the cover.

He tugged it away. “Let's go somewhere private.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “We're in the middle of the forest, bro,” he pointed out. But he followed Ford back to the Shack.

Since the pig wasn't allowed in the house, Ford went to the Shack's living room to show Stan the journal. There was a tour bus out front, so he figured their great-aunt would be busy for a while. He didn't really want to share the journal with her. She didn't believe in the supernatural, anyway.

“Ok, so what's the big thing with some dumb book?” Stan asked impatiently, jumping onto their Grauntie's orange chair.

He took the book out of his jacket, smiling down at it. “It's amazing – Grauntie Mabel said there's no such thing as the supernatural, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a secret dark side.”

“Whoa, shut up!”

“And get this! After a certain point, the pages just – stop, like the guy who was writing it mysteriously disappeared!” He held up the blank pages to show his brother.

“Do you think he was eaten by one of those monsters?” Stan asked.

“Hey – maybe!” Ford said. He hadn't thought of that. “But he hid it first, so I don't think he got eaten. Plus, the author says he was being watched, so I don't think it was a random monster.” He started pacing as he talked. “If he knew he was being watched, did he take steps to protect himself? Is the author still around somewhere? Could he be someone in town? There are some coded parts of the journal in here. I bet if I could crack them, I could figure out what happened, maybe who the author really is!”

Stanley grinned at him. “If anybody can do it, it's you! You're the smartest guy I know!”

Ding dong.

Ford looked up. “Who's that?”

His brother grinned. “Welp, time to spill the beans!” He reached over and flicked an empty can of beans sitting on Mabel's stack of romance novels. The can tipped over. “Haha, beans. This guy's got a date with destiny!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. In the thirty minutes I've been gone, you've already managed to find a girlfriend?”

“Well, not exactly.” Stan ran off to answer the door. Ford hopped up on the chair and sat down to read.

Grauntie Mabel walked in. “Whatcha readin' there, kiddo?” she asked.

He jumped. “Oh – uh, uh –” Ford hid the book behind him and grabbed a novel from the stack. “Just reading, um...Wolf Man, Big Chest?”

“That's a good series,” she commented, taking a swig of Pit Cola.

“Alright, family!” Stan announced, marching proudly into the room. “Say hello to my new buddy, Norman!”

A slouching, black-hoodied teenager shuffled into the room. He wore dark pants and a black hoodie, all covered with bits of dirt and grass, with an actual tree root sticking out of his hood. When he turned to greet them, his face was paper-white, and his eyes were round and bloodshot.

He looked at them. “'Sup.”

“Hey,” Ford said, just as Mabel said, “Hi there!”

“We met at the cemetery,” Stan said. “He hangs out there all the time. Isn't that cool?”

“Um, are you bleeding, Norman?” Ford asked, pointing to something red and drippy on Norman's chin.

Norman's eyes darted nervously. “It's jam,” he rasped.

“Anyway, we're going treasure-hunting!” Stan declared. “You wanna come, Ford?”

The journal pressed into Ford's back. “Um...maybe later,” he said.

“Aw, come on! We were gonna go hunt for treasure! You know you're gonna love it.”

“No thanks,” Ford said, a little more firmly. “I've got...summer reading to do.”

“Oh...” Stan looked dubiously t the book's hiding place. “Fine. Come on, Norman!” he yelled, racing for the door. “Last one out's a rotten egg!”

Norman raised a hand in farewell, walked into a wall, and stumbled after Stan.

Ford got up from the chair, hiding the journal in his jacket, and went to the window. He frowned, watching them leave. “Did Norman seem...normal, to you?” he asked Grauntie Mabel. But he wasn't really expecting an answer. She'd already started rereading that lame romance novel.

He touched the journal, thinking hard. If there was something supernatural about Norman, maybe it could give him some clues.

Half of the upstairs attic was taken up by his and Stan's bedroom. The other half was empty, utterly devoid of furniture with the exception of a single bay window, with stained red glass decorated with a triangular design. Ford sat on the cushioned seat, scooting close to the window to make the most of the light.

He flipped through the book until he found something that caught his eye. It was a hunched figure with its limbs held out stiffly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Norman.

He started to read. “'Known for their pale skin and bad attitude, these monsters are commonly mistaken for teenagers. Beware of Gravity Falls' notorious –’” he gasped. “ZOMBIE?!”

Grauntie Mabel looked up from the bathroom mirror.

“What was that? 'Crombie'?” she wondered. “No, maybe it was chompy. Or maybe hungry. Hey, I should finish off that Chicken-Glitter Casserole!”

Ford jumped up to a kneeling position and pressed against the glass. There! Stanley was sitting on the picnic table, concentrating on a piece of paper spread out before him. Norman was stalking towards him, arms outstretched, grunting with every step. Stanley was so focused that he was utterly oblivious to the danger.

“Oh no – Stanley!” Ford shouted, but his brother couldn't hear him.

Norman came closer. He loomed over Stanley.

He grabbed him –

Ford yelled –

And Norman pulled back, a miner's helmet on Stan's head. Stanley turned around, grinning and feeling his new hat.

“Is this a real miner's helmet?!” he asked, reaching up to flick the light. It blinked on and off, visible even in the bright sunshine. “Wow! Where did you get this? It's so cool!”

Ford slumped with relief, watching for a few seconds longer as the two of them started pointing to stuff on the paper. From here, it looked like it was some kind of map.

He drew back, shutting the book and sticking it under his arm. For all he knew, the teen was just another emo teenager. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. He held the journal more tightly.

“Is Norman really a zombie,” he muttered, “or am I just going nuts?”

“It's a dilemma, to be sure.”

Ford jumped and spun around. Ria was on a step stool, changing the bulb in the attic's ceiling lamp. Ford hadn't even heard her come in.

He hesitated, but he needed to think this through with someone. “Ria, you've seen Norman, right?” he asked. “He's gotta be a zombie!”

“Hmm. How many brains have you seen him eat?” she asked politely.

He sighed. “Zero.”

She stepped off the stool, wiping the dust from her hands. “Don't fret, chiquito. I do believe you. There are many strange things that happen in this town. The florist, for example. I am almost certain that he is a satyr.”

Ford knew who she was talking about. The florist's shoes made weird clopping noises, he always wore a hat even indoors, and he had flower petals everywhere – even between his teeth.

“But you must have evidence,” Ria continued. “Otherwise, people will simply believe that you are one piece shy of a chess set.”

“I guess you're right,” Ford conceded.

She nodded sagely. “Wisdom is both a blessing and a curse.”

Grauntie Mabel's voice called up to them. “Ria! The portable toilets are clogged again!”

Ria straightened her hat. “I must get the special vacuum.” She held the step stool like a shield and marched out of the room.

Ford looked after her, thinking hard. Ria was right. He'd need some actual proof that Norman was a zombie...hadn't he seen a camera left in the Lost 'N' Found box in the Gift Shop? Grauntie Mabel always waited until the end of the day, then emptied the box, stuck price tags on everything, and resold it as “haunted merchandise”. He could borrow the camera and return it later for her to sell. If he followed Norman around, he'd be able to film actual proof that Norman really was a zombie.

A slow smile spread over his face. He'd be a hero – he could protect his brother, prove the existence of the supernatural to his great-aunt, maybe even get an article published in the newspaper. This was definitely a good plan.

It was time to collect some evidence!

“Here, let's take this one, too,” Stanley said. He and Norman had gone straight to the closest hardware store and begun stocking up on supplies, using Norman's zipped-up jacket as their shopping cart. He shoved a second flashlight down Norman's collar and stood back to admire the effect. With all the stuff they'd packed in, the jacket bulged in unlikely places, but they could just say he'd broken both arms or something. “Perfect,” he decided. “Man, how do you fit all that stuff in there?”

Norman eyed the next item doubtfully. Stanley was holding a shovel almost as tall as himself – three and a half feet long with a wide, pointy steel blade. “Uh, I don't know about the shovel...”

“Well I'm not paying for a perfectly stealable shovel. Are you?” Stanley twirled it like a baton. “Won't we need two of these?”

Norman grunted. “You dig it up, you get 80% of the gold.”

“Well hot dog! You got yourself a deal!” Stanley practically danced with glee – then remembered not to do that. Ford was the only one who didn't laugh when he danced.

Thinking of Ford made his chest twinge. If his brother hadn't found that stupid book with its stupid mysteries, maybe they'd be doing this together...

He gave himself a good mental shake. So what? He and Norman would dig up the gold using the treasure map they'd found, and they'd get filthy rich and Ford would be incredibly jealous, and then Stan could use the gold to buy all the fancy monster-hunting equipment Ford wanted and they'd go exploring the forest together for the rest of their natural lives. In a limo. In two limos!

“C'mon, c'mon, let's get out of here!” Stanley whispered excitedly. “We got some gold to find!”

They picked the lock on the Emergency Exit door and snuck out. Norman insisted they pick up provisions at “the place with ingredients for pie”, which Stan guessed meant the grocery store. But first they decided to dump their equipment at the cemetery. There was a tombstone with a winged angel pointing at something, and her wings were big enough to hide their stuff behind.

Stan threw the shovel in the dirt like a harpoon. A pile of blankets was already stacked there, plus a wagon loaded with a pickaxe and a coil of rope from their previous tool heist.

“Dude, you're like, an expert at this,” Stan said. “By the end of the day, we're gonna be filthy ri–”

“WAGH!”

Stan turned right as Norman did a face-plant in an open grave, spraying him with dirt and gravel. After a second, Norman crawled his way to the surface. Stan burst out laughing.

“Oh, man, that was hilarious!” he gasped, bent double from laughing so hard.

Norman laughed along with him. Stan knelt by the edge of the grave. “Dude, you are covered in dirt. You look like a zombie! Wait – it's like a zombie swimming pool! Swim through the dirt!” He started chanting. “Swim through the dirt! Swim through the dirt!”

Norman grunted and tried to pull himself out. Tools fell out of his jacket and pants. Stan looked down at the grave in dismay.

“Aw, man, you dumped it all.”

Norman handed him the shovel. “Here. Practice.”

“Uh, you're the one who dumped it.”

“I'm...like...not crawling back into an open grave.”

Stan scoffed. “Chicken.” He jumped in feet-first. The dirt was all soft on top, soft enough to move with his hands, so digging was no problem. He brought up their flashlights, thermoses, and a waterproof watch before he noticed Norman watching him. There was a hungry kind of look in his eyes.

“Um...dude. You're freaking me out.”

“Sorry. You're really good at digging.”

“Whatever. Get the stuff and pull me out, would you?”

Norman put a hand down, but when Stan went to grab it, he somehow lost his grip and went tumbling back in the grave. He banged the shovel on his knee.

“Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Ugh...” Stan rubbed the back of his head. “I swear I'm gonna have, like, three concussions and amnesia by the time this summer's over. Get a better grip this time, okay?”

Norman helped him out of the grave and they piled all their stuff in the wagon. By that point, they both looked so filthy that Stan knew they'd never make it in and out of the grocery store without getting caught. You had to look nice and respectable for people's eyes to glaze over you, and somehow grave dirt just wasn't the fashion style of the season.

Fashion style? Ew! Grauntie Mae's rubbing off on me. Definitely time for some manly gold-digging.

Aaand that sounded wrong.

“Let's just get back to the Shack,” Stan said angrily, scowling at the wagon. “You pull, I'll push. We can just grab some stuff from the kitchen and fill up our thermoses there.”

Ford paced the living room angrily, the camera in his hands, disgusted with the wasted day. He'd followed Stan around for the past five hours, and while he'd gotten plenty of evidence of Stan's sticky fingers, there was absolutely nothing to suggest that Norman was anything other than a very awkward teenager.

He heard Stanley slam the back door. It was easy to tell who it was, since he grumbled under his breath the whole way up the stairs. Ford headed up as well and entered their bedroom just as Stanley was putting on a fresh shirt.

“Stanley!” Ford said. “We've gotta talk about Norman.”

“Isn't he the coolest?” Stan asked. He held up his right forearm and pointed. “Check out this neat scar I got!”

“Gah!” Ford stared, alarmed. The scar was at least a foot long and bright pink, the skin around it mottled and purple.

“Haha! Gullible.” Stanley put his arm down and rubbed it. “It's just some paint, see? We painted the wagon we're using. I called it 'The Stanleymobile!'”

Right. Ford had seen Stan and Norman outside earlier, messing around with paint and a rickety-looking wagon. They'd tried to use a leaf blower to make it dry faster and ended up having a sword fight with the blower and a shovel.

Stanley smiled. “That was fun, Sixer, you shoulda joined us!”

Ford shook his head. “No, Stanley, listen – I'm trying to tell you that Norman is not what he seems!” He pulled out the journal, its gold-leaf pine tree glinting ominously.

Stan thought for a second. “Do you think he could be a werewolf? That would be so awesome!”

“Guess again, Stanley,” Ford said, and flipped quickly through the pages. He held it up dramatically. “Sha-BAM!”

Stan yelled in surprise, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

Ford checked the page. “Oh, oh wait, hang on –” He had flipped it to that page about gnomes, all chubby-cheeked and starry-eyed. He turned the pages back until he found the one on zombies. “Okay, sha-BAM!”

Stan was not impressed. “A zombie? That is not funny, Ford.”

“I'm not joking!” Ford started to pace the room. Why didn't anyone believe him? Not Grauntie Mabel, and now not Stan?! He knew what he was talking about! “Look, it all adds up – the bleeding, the limp... He never blinks! Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking,” Stanley said.

“Stanley, remember what the book said?” Ford whispered urgently. “'Trust no one!'”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Well what about me, huh? Why can't you trust me?”

Ford grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Stanley, he's gonna eat your brain!”

Stanley frowned and pushed his hands away. “Stanford, listen to me. You can join us or not, but Norman and I are going treasure-hunting at five o' clock.” He started marching toward Stanford, who was forced to back up a step at a time. “And we're gonna find an awesome pile of gold,” Stan continued, “and we're gonna spend it however we want, and I'm not gonna let you ruin it with your crazy conspiracies!”

Stan slammed the bedroom door in Ford's face.

Ford sighed and slid to the floor, sitting against the door. “Oh man...what am I gonna do?”

Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and dragged himself downstairs, where he flopped on the yellow armchair. He pulled out the video camera and flipped open the viewing screen, glumly rewinding and fast-forwarding various moments of the day. There wasn't even a shred of proof...

The doorbell rang.

“Coming!” Stan yelled.

Ford glanced over the arm of the chair. He had a pretty good view of the front door. Norman was standing in the entrance, as pale and creepy as ever.

Stanley ran to the door, wearing clean(ish) clothes and his miner's helmet. “How do I look?” Stan asked, adjusting the hat. “Do I look like a real treasure-hunter?”

“Cool,” Norman grunted.

“The map's on the picnic table. Let's grab it and get hunting!” He grabbed Norman's sleeve and yanked him outside. Ford kept watching as they grabbed a wagon loaded with food and tools and started lugging it into the forest.

Ford turned away from the door with a groan. “Ugh, maybe Ria was right. I don't have any real evidence...” He watched a brief clip of Stan teaching Norman how to play cards while they ate stolen candy bars. He thumbed the fast-forward button absently. It reached the part where he'd been spying on the two of them in the cemetery. Ford watched as Norman fell into the grave, then climbed out. Totally creepy, but nothing supernatural about it at all. He sank a little lower in the chair. “I guess I can be kind of paranoid sometimes and...”

On the screen, Norman try to pull Stan out of the grave. Norman pulled and his hand popped off just as Stan slipped, falling back into –

“Wait. WHAT!?”

He rewound it again, watching closely. Just as Norman started to pull Stan out of the grave, Norman's hand fell off his wrist! Norman quickly popped it back on when Stan wasn't looking!

Ford yelled in triumph and actually knocked over the chair.

“I was right!” he shouted, scrambling to climb over the seat. “I was right, I knew it, I was –” He stopped short. His brother was out there right now, in a creepy forest with a zombie who wanted to eat his brains!

“Omigosh, omigosh!” He darted for the door. He had to get help! “Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!”

He sprinted around the Shack. His great-aunt was giving a tour to some sweaty-looking tourists. She led them to a rather large rock set atop a thick pole, sitting in front of the Shack.

“And here we have Rock-That-Looks-Like-A-Face Rock,” she said proudly. “'The Rock that Looks like a Face.'”

One of the tourists raised his hand. “Does it look like a rock?” he asked, his accent twanging.

“What?” Mabel frowned at him. “No, it looks like a face.”

“Is it a face?” asked another tourist.

“It's a rock that looks like a face.”

Ford rushed up and tried to get around them, but there was no room. He jumped up and down, waving his arms from the back of the crowd. “Over here! Grauntie Mabel!”

She was too engrossed in her argument with the tourists. “For the fifth time, it's not an actual face!”

Ford ground his teeth in frustration.

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a long streak of black dirt on his face. The hole he'd dug was five feet wide and just as deep, with one side of it slanted so he could go up and down like a ramp. The sun was slowly going down, so half of the hole got some good shade, but the other half was right in the sun's path. Every time he stood on that side he got blinded. Sweat rolled down his face and back, making his shirt stick to him like the wrapper on a pastrami sandwich.

“This is taking forever!” Stan complained. He glared up at Norman. “Why aren't you helping more?”

Norman knelt at the side of the hole and handed him a water bottle. “I am helping. Besides, you're almost there.”

“Where, the center of the earth?” Stan threw down the water bottle and stabbed at the ground with the shovel. “Come on! I've been digging solo this whole time, and there's nothing even here –”

TWANG.

The shovel bounced back in Stan's hand. They both stared at the ground.

Stan's eyes went wide. “Is that...?”

“Grauntie Mabel, Grauntie Mabel!” Ford shouted, but he still couldn't get her attention and he knew time had to be running out!

A sudden movement caught his eye. Boyish Dan was parking the golf cart next to the “Pet the Pig” sign.

“Boyish Dan!” Ford ran over to him. “Dan, I need to borrow the golf cart so I can save my brother from a zombie!”

Dan squinted at him. Then he shrugged and dropped the keys into Ford's hand. “Don't hit pedestrians!” he barked, stalking toward the Gift Shop. Ford smiled with relief. Dan was pretty cool.

He hopped in the cart. It was almost exactly like that bumper car he'd ridden at the fair when he was six. He turned the key, shifted the gear stick, and hit the gas, heading straight for the forest.

“Chiquito, it's me, Ria.”

Ford hit the brakes. What was Ria doing just standing in the middle of the lawn?

“This is in case you see a zombie,” Ria said, handing him a large shovel.

“Thanks.” He stowed it in the back seat of the cart.

“And this is in case you see a pinata.” She handed him a baseball bat.

“Uh...thanks?” He put it by the shovel and hit the gas.

“Better safe than sorry!” she called cheerfully, as he zoomed towards the forest.

“Oh, man, I've never seen this much gold in my life!” Stan laughed. He'd dumped the treasure chest out on the bottom of the hole and was digging through the pile of gold coins, running them through his fingers. They glittered in the orange light of the setting sun. He grabbed two fistfuls and threw them up in the air, yelling with delight until they fell back down and pummeled him on the head. “Ow!”

“This is amazing!” Norman said. “I can't believe you dug this up all by yourself!”

“I know, right!” Stan paused, squinting up at Norman. “Yeah, I did do all the work myself. You know, I'm thinking we may need to renegotiate our shares, here.”

“Oh, you can hang on to all of it.”

Stanley stared at him. “Huh?”

Norman seemed not to hear. “Man, look at this! And this was supposed to be one of the harder ones to dig up, too. You did it in an hour flat!”

“...Yeah...” Stan looked from the gold to Norman and back again. Norman really wasn't making any kind of grab for it. He'd just said Stan could have it all, just like that. Something was definitely fishy here. Was it possible Norman had tricked him?

He picked up an old-looking coin. It was worn smooth on one side, but the other side had some kind of sketchy engraving he couldn't quite make out. He knew better than to bite it – if it really was gold, he would dent the metal and decrease the coin's value. He weighed it in his palm. He'd gotten pretty good at that while working at the family pawn shop, and this felt like real gold.

So why would Norman just...?

He looked up. A bunch of foot-high men in bright red caps were standing exactly where Norman had been.

Stan shrieked and fell back on his butt.

“Relax, kid, wouldja?” one of the short guys said impatiently. It was Norman! Or at least Norman's face and voice.

“You – you –” Stan sputtered.

“Right, right, I'll explain.” Norman brushed the hair out of his eyes and smacked one hand with the other. “So! We're gnomes! Got that one out of the way.” He nodded at the other gnomes, all of whom were standing on stilts or carrying fake plastic arms. “I'm Jeff,” he said, “And that's Carson, Steve, Jason, and...I'm sorry, I always forget your name.”

The last gnome, who looked like a wild-eyed Santa Claus, blinked slowly. “Schmebulock,” he said, with a voice like a bunch of falling gravel.

Jeff snapped his fingers. “Right! Schmebulock! Yes! Anyway...” He turned back to Stan.

Stanley blinked rapidly, trying to put it all together. If that was Norman's face...then...Norman had really been a bunch of gnomes the whole time?!

“I still keep the gold,” Stan said flatly. “You said I could, and I did all the digging, and you didn't even pay for the stuff we stole, so –”

“Relax, kid, you can have all that and more!”

Stan blinked again, stunned.  “There's more?”

“Sure!” Jeff pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it around. “Us gnomes got into a fight with a giant hellhound a while ago, and long story short, it buried all our treasure. We've got whole boxes of the stuff buried all over the forest!”

Stan's eyes gleamed. “More gold, huh? You don't say.”

“Yep! But we're not exactly cut out to be diggers, and any tools we steal are definitely not gnome-sized. That's why us gnomes have been looking for a new servant!”

“Say what now?”

“Well, more like slave-labor, really. But it's a great deal!” Jeff nodded enthusiastically. “We offer full medical and dental coverage, plus all the pie we can steal. All you have to do is dig up all of our gold and guard it for the rest of eternity!”

“Are you crazy?” Stan demanded. “I get enough of that child labor stuff from Grauntie Mabel. You're lucky I don't sue your red-capped butts right now! I'm takin' my gold and I'm outta here.”

“We understand.” Jeff and his gnome friends glanced at each other. “Well, Stan...we tried it the easy way.”

Stan backed up. “Huh?”

All five gnomes bared teeth as sharp as a shark's. Stan yelled and threw up his arms as they jumped into the hole, their beady eyes glittering with greed.

“Don't worry, Stanley!” Ford shouted, his foot pressed to the gas. “I'll save you from that zombie!” Luckily, he'd seen the map they'd been using from the window of the attic. He had a pretty good memory. He knew he was to be close to wherever Stan and that zombie were trying to go.

Suddenly Stan's voice echoed through the trees to Ford's left. “Help!” he cried.

“Hold on!” Ford veered off the trail and drove into the trees, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows. The farther he went, the more he noticed an odd bluish light that seemed to come from the forest around him, tinting the foliage mint-green and aqua. The pine-needle carpet was swiftly replaced with odd blue mosses dotted with pink flowers and the occasional clump of mushrooms. There was an off-road path through the trees wide enough for the golf cart, and Ford pressed the accelerator, listening for his brother.

There was a clearing of sorts up ahead. A bunch of tiny red-capped creatures were swarming around a pile of gold. To the left, the rest of the creatures were clustered around Stanley, who was trying to fight them off, throwing punches left and right.

“The more you struggle, the more awkward this is gonna be for everybody!” warned one of the tiny creatures. “Okay, just – get his arm, there, Steve!”

A creature jumped up and tried bite Stan's arm. “Gah! HEY! Let go of me!” he shouted angrily. Another one attacked his midriff and he caught it mid-air with a strong left hook. The thing flew four feet, bounced twice, and landed on its feet next to a tree. It immediately vomited a viscous multicolored bile.

Ford hopped out of the cart and stared. “What the heck is going on here?!”

One of the creatures – men, they looked like little men – scuttled passed and hissed at him. Ford flinched back, dropping the shovel.

“Sixer!” Stanley called. “Norman turned out to be a bunch of gnomes! And they're total jerks!”

Three gnomes stacked themselves up and grabbed Stanley by the hair, swinging from it like monkeys. He yelped and went down.

“Gnomes?” Ford repeated, pulling out the journal. He flipped to the right page – ironically, the same page he'd accidentally shown his brother earlier. The same chubby-cheeked, starry-eyed drawing stared up at him. It was adorable in a creepy, infest-your-grandma's-lawn kind of way. “'Gnomes,'” he read aloud, “'Little men of the Gravity Falls forest. Weaknesses: Unknown.'”

Well that was unhelpful, Ford thought. When he glanced up, the gnomes had tied Stanley to the ground with a bunch of string, like a miniature Gulliver.

“Oh, come on!” Stanley shouted.

“Hey, hey!” Ford marched up to the lead gnome, shovel in hand. “Let go of my brother!”

“Oh, hehe, hey there!” The gnome smiled a little too stiffly. “You know, this is all just a big misunderstanding! Y'see, your brother's not in danger. He's just enslaved to all one thousand of us to become our gold miner for all eternity! Isn't that right, Stan-O?”

“You guys are butt faces!” Stan shouted. A gnome slapped his hands over Stan's mouth.

“Let go of him right now, or else!” Ford threatened.

Jeff glared at him, his face growing darker by the minute. “You think you can stop us, boy? You have no idea what we're capable of. The gnomes are a powerful race! Do not trifle with the –”

Ford scooped him up with the shovel and dumped him to the side.

He yelped indignantly. Ford ignored him and headed straight for Stan, lifting the shovel high and bringing the edge of it down on the strings. Stan jumped up and lashed out at the gnomes, knocking them down and giving them enough time to get away. He stopped to pick something up and Ford grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the golf cart.

“Forget it, Stan, just go!” Ford said.

“He's getting away with our servant!” Jeff yelled. “No, no, no!”

They scrambled into the golf cart. “Seat belt!” Ford barked.

“Mama's boy!” Stan barked back, but he put on the belt and Ford threw it in reverse.

Jeff watched them go, a dark fire burning in his eyes. “You messed with the wrong creatures, boy,” he growled. “Gnomes of the forest, ASSEMBLE!”

Instantly, gnome faces popped out from every nook and crevice in the clearing, crawling from the shadows, literally popping out of the woodwork in the trees. They scuttled towards him, linking arms, climbing onto each other's shoulders, as their collective shadow grew and spread over the ground...

Stan gripped the seat so hard his fingertips went numb. “Hurry, hurry, before they come after us!”

Ford grinned at him. “I wouldn't worry about it. Did you see those little legs? Those suckers are tiny!”

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Ford braked as the whole ground shuddered under their wheels. A shadow fell over the cart and they turned.

Stan gaped. “Dang.”

A thirty-foot conglomeration of gnomes loomed over them, with fingers as thick as telephone poles, arms and legs as thick as train cars, and a huge, sharp-toothed face that came to a hat-shaped point.

Jeff sat at the very top of the point. “Alright, guys, like we practiced!” he called, and yanked a gnome's hat. The giant roared and lifted a huge fist.

“Go go go!” Stan yelled. Ford floored it just in time, and the fist hit the ground where they'd been just a split-second earlier. The fist smashed apart into a pile of angry gnomes. Stanley grabbed the seat for balance and watched, still looking back, as the gnomes quickly regrouped and thundered after them.

“Stanley what's happening?” Ford shouted.

“COME BACK WITH OUR SERVANT!” Jeff howled, his black eyes madder than ever. The gnome giant ran with incredible speed, closing the gap between them in a matter of seconds.

Stan blanched. “Hit the gas hit the gas!”

The giant whipped its arm at them and several razor-toothed gnomes snapped off its fingers and went flying straight for the cart.

Stan grabbed a bat from the back seat. “We got incoming!”

He unbuckled and stood in one smooth motion, hitting the first gnome in the gut with a perfect swing. It went flying into the trees.

“Home run, suckah!”

“Stanley!”

He turned. His brother was fighting off the rest – they were tearing through the cloth roof and climbing down the sides of the cart, shredding whatever they could reach with their teeth. Stanley grinned and wielded the bat like a spear, punching the stupid gnomes flat in the face with the blunt end. One of them tried to bite the bat and Stan smashed the end of it against the hood of the cart, squishing the gnome, which let go and bounced off into the road.

Another gnome swung down from the roof right next to Ford. He yelled, but before Stan could get to it Ford grabbed it by the back of its stupid little jacket and banged it several times against the steering wheel.

“Schmebulock,” groaned the gnome.

Ford smashed it one more time and let it go, and it rebounded off the cart and went tumbling in their dust.

Stan grinned at him. “Way to go, Fo–”

“SCREEEEE!”

A gnome came flying out of nowhere and landed right on Ford's face, squeezing Ford's ears in its vice-like grip.

“I'll save you Ford!” Stan dropped the bat and pummeled the gnome with both fists until he dislodged it with a killer left hook.

“Th-thanks, Stanley,” Ford stammered, swaying slightly and blinking several times.

“Don't mention it.” Stanley had been standing on the seat, but now he crouched down and peered out the back of the cart.

The gnome giant had been gaining all the time, but now it paused and grabbed the nearest tree. It was a redwood at least four stories tall, looked like it had been growing for over a century – and the giant just grabbed it and pulled it up like it was picking daisies! It took aim and threw the tree like a javelin.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan shouted.

Ford glanced back over his shoulder and the two of them yelled with fear as the tree sailed towards them – and then over them. It landed with an incredible BANG in the middle of the path ahead, completely blocking the road.

Stanley threw up his arms as Ford swerved, desperately trying to avoid the tree, screaming as it loomed closer and closer.

The tree had landed with one end propped up on a boulder, with just the smallest gap between the tree and the ground. Ford yanked the wheel hard to the right and the cart skidded under the tree, scraping off bits of bark with the roof of the cart. Ford lost control and the cart started tipping, zooming down the road on just its two right wheels. Stan grabbed the seat – he couldn't reach for the seatbelt or he'd fall out – and Ford pumped the brakes and the gas, trying to regain control. The cart fishtailed, skidding over the road, and finally tipped over, sliding the last ten feet to the Shack.

It took a full minute for Stanley to realize they weren't moving. His head was pounding and the ground spun underneath him. He pulled himself, groaning, from the wreckage of the cart. He glanced over to see his brother standing up shakily, grabbing the bent metal poles of the cart for balance.

The giant gnome stomped towards them, its huge shadow swallowing them up. At its top, Jeff's eyes glittered maliciously. The boys backed up until they were pressed against the wall of the Shack.

“Uh, stay back, gnomes!” Ford yelled shakily. He grabbed the shovel from the back of the cart and threw it.

The giant hit it in mid-air and punched it to the ground.

“AGH!” Ford and Stan jumped.

“Wh-where's Grauntie Mabel?” Ford squeaked.

Inside the Gift Shop, Mabel Pines was demonstrating the newest merchandise to a trio of slack-jawed visitors.

“Behold!” she declared, holding up a toy that looked like a plastic lollipop. It had a swirl pattern decorating the candy part and a string dangling from one side. “The world's most distracting object!”

She pulled the string and the swirl began to turn.

“Ooooh,” the tourists said in unison.

Mabel grinned. “Just try to look away, you can't!” They all stared at the toy, including Mabel. “...Wow, I can't even remember what I was talking about.”

Stan and Ford were trapped between the trash cans and some bushes at the side of the Shack. There was nowhere for them to run, and nothing they could use as a weapon. Stan stood partly in front of his brother, one arm thrown out to protect him. How the heck was he supposed to get them out of this?

“It's the end of the line, kids!” Jeff yelled, looming over them. “Stanley, get over here before we do something crazy!”

“There's gotta be a way outta this,” Ford whispered. He slid the journal partway out of his jacket.

Stan set his jaw. “I gotta do it.”

“What?” Ford grabbed Stan's shoulder. “Stanley, don't do this, are you crazy?”

“Trust me.”

“What?”

“Sixer, just this once.” He turned to look his brother in the eye. “Trust me.”

Ford looked from the monster to Stan and back again. He slowly released Stan's shoulder and backed up.

Stan strode forward. “Alright, Jeff,” he said loudly. “I'll sign your contract.”

Jeff frowned at him. “Contract?”

“Well sure. This is like, a legal agreement, right? I'm going to work for you for eternity and all. Any good boss knows we need a contract to make it legally binding, so I can't run away.”

Jeff rubbed his chin, considering. “I like the way you think, kid!” he said finally. He clapped his hands and started climbing down the giant. “Help me down there, Jason, thanks Andy, whoops – hey Jorge – whoa, watch those fingers, Mike.” He reached the bottom and headed for Stanley, practically strutting, while the gnome-giant stood silently behind him. Stan was thinking furiously, but it looked like he was right – the other gnomes were all staring at Jeff like they didn't know what to do without him. That's what he was counting on.

“Alright kid, where's the contract?”

“You're in luck! We can use the map we left behind earlier,” Stan said. He reached behind the trash cans. “I've got the map and a pen right here...”

He whipped out the leaf blower and switched it on in reverse. Immediately the suction began drawing Jeff towards the blower.

“H-hey, what's going on?!” Jeff tried to back up but slipped on the grass. He grabbed for the ground with his fingers, but the wind was too strong. It yanked him up and he was sucked straight down the pipe. The other gnomes gasped.

“That's for lying to me!” Stan shouted.

He cranked the suction to full. Jeff's body got sucked in until only his cheeks bulged over the rim.

“Ow, my face!”

“That's for taking my gold!”

Stan aimed the blower at the giant gnome monster. It grunted in surprise.

“And this is for messing with my brother!” He glanced at Ford and grinned. “Care to do the honors?”

Ford smiled back. “On three!”

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Ford flipped the switch to 'blow'. Jeff shot out of the blower like a high-powered rocket. He crashed straight through the giant's chest and out its back.

“I'll get you back for thiiiiis!” he howled, flying at high speed over the treetops and out of sight.

The impact shattered the giant gnome to bits. They broke apart, gnomes falling around them like very ugly confetti. In seconds the lawn was covered with battered gnomes. Their red hats were bent and grass stuck to their sweaty hands and faces. They blinked and looked around blearily, groaning and rubbing their arms and shoulders.

“Ugh...”

“My arms are tired,” one mumbled.

“Who's giving orders?” whined another gnome. “I need orders!”

Stanley shoved the blower at Ford and grabbed his bat. “Anybody else want a piece of this?!” he demanded, swinging the bat like a golf club. He smacked quite a few gnomes on the butt. Ford joined in on the fun, cranking the blower to maximum.

“Yeah, come on!” Ford shouted, laughing.

The gnomes squealed and fled, most of them scampering on all fours into the forest. The twins ran after them, whooping and hollering like maniacs. Even Waddles got in on the action, showing up just in time to drag the last gnome off by its hat.

Ford headed back to the house to replace the leaf blower.

Stan bit his lip. “Hey, Ford.”

His brother turned. Stan shouldered his bat and shoved his free hand into his pocket. “Um. Sorry for getting on your case earlier. I know you were just looking out for me.”

“Come on, don't be like that!” Ford said, smiling. “Did you see what a great team we made? That was awesome!”

Stan grinned a little. “Yeah...hey, wanna see something?” He brought his hand out of his pocket. Resting on his palm was an old, misshapen, yet unmistakably gold coin.

“Whoa, neat-o!” Ford said, bending for a closer look. “You think it's real gold?”

“You bet! I bet you could do some science-y thing to check the weight, but it definitely looks real. The gnomes said there was a ton of it buried all around the forest, but they couldn't dig it up. That's why they wanted me in the first place.”

“You know, I bet we could find it on our own,” Ford mused. “We could get a metal detector or something and go exploring in the woods. We could even make maps like real explorers so we'd know where we'd already checked.”

Stan looked up hopefully. “You mean it? We'll go hunting together?”

“Sure! I bet we'll find a ton of treasure.”

Stanley's smile widened. He felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. “Alright! High six?”

Ford grinned back. “High six.”

They smacked hands.

Grauntie Mabel was counting the day's profits when they walked in. She took one look at them and laughed.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” she asked. “Didja get hit by a bus or something?” She chuckled at her own wit.

Stan grunted for the both of them and the trudged towards the kitchen. Normally he shared her love of terrible jokes, but at the moment he was too beat-up and tired to care. For once he would probably go to bed almost willingly.

“Uh – hey!”

He and Ford turned back. Their great-aunt was rubbing the back of her neck like she was anxious. “W-wouldn't you know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory!” she said awkwardly. “So, uh, why don't the two of you take one item from the shop. On the house, you know?”

Stan's eyes widened. “Like, for free?”

“What's the catch?” Ford asked, folding his arms.

She frowned at him. “The catch is do it before I change my mind. Now take something.” She smacked the register with her elbow and started organizing the bills.

Stan sped straight for the priciest items in the shop. A talking fish on a plaque? A stuffed frogadillo riding a unicycle? He could take whatever he wanted for free!

“Neat-o!” Ford said.

Stan looked over. His brother had found a keychain shaped like a flying saucer. Ford clicked a small button on the side and the whole thing lit up light blue, making the perfect paranormal-themed flashlight. He slipped a finger through the keychain's ring and spun it, making a circle of light shimmer in the air.

“This is so cool!” Ford turned to Stan. “What did you get, Stanley?”

Stan looked around. “Um...I think I'll get...”

Something caught his eye. A glint of metal from the Bargain Box, shoved to the back of a store. He leaned closer to check...and a smile spread over his face.

“I will have a...grappling hook!”

He aimed the weapon around the shop, pretending he was a fighter in the Ol' West. “Pew, pew, pew! Take that!”

Ford and Grauntie Mabel glanced at each other in surprise.

“Wouldn't you rather have, like, a T-shirt or something?” Grauntie Mabel asked.

“Are you kidding?” Stanley aimed at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hooks shot up, latched onto the roof beam, and yanked him ten feet in the air, where he dangled one-handedly from the ceiling. “GRAPPLING HOOK!” he shouted.

She laughed. “Fair enough!”

Ford sat in his bed later that evening, the blankets pulled over his knees as he wrote in the journal. He'd already filled in the “Weakness” areas of the gnome page: Leaf blowers and baseball bats!

He flipped to the first blank page, halfway through the book.

This journal told me there was no one in Gravity Falls I could trust, he wrote. But when you battle a hundred gnomes side-by-side with someone, you realize they've probably always got your back.

“Hey, Stan, can you get the lights?” he asked.

Stan had been bouncing energetically on his bed, grappling hook in hand.

“I'm on it!” he said. He'd already impaled a stuffed bear with it earlier, and its cotton innards clung to the hooks. He aimed at the lamp and fired.

The hook shot straight through the lamp and smashed the window behind it. The lamp sparked and died.

“It worked!” Stan shouted, and they laughed.

Ford slipped the journal under his pillow and laid back, his arms crossed under his head. He heard a rustling and knew that Stan had taken up an identical pose.

“This summer's gonna be awesome, Stan,” Ford said.

“Duh!” He could hear his brother's smile in his voice. “We're gonna find tons of buried treasure.”

“And monsters.”

“And babes!”

Ford threw a pillow at him. He heard a fwump and muffled laughter.

Ford closed his eyes, still smiling, thinking back to the last thing he wrote in the journal.

Grauntie Mabel told me there's nothing weird going on in Gravity Falls, but who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked?

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