#I have no idea why I didn’t draw him for a week straight

[raemeh]

I forgot how much I liked to draw hermie

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [31] - Chamomile

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: A ballroom can be a place of reconciliation.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of trauma and violence.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

The following days after that night were interesting.

Granted things were still quite tense between you two, but perhaps because now you knew that neither of you wanted to walk away from this no matter how terrible that fight had been, there was also an unspoken agreement of peace. 

You passed by the hallway, fixing your gloves as you went downstairs and as soon as you reached the foyer, you saw Benedict entering the house.

“Husband,” you greeted him in a half joking manner as you walked past him, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Wife,” he joked back, making you bite down on your smile but you stopped dead on your tracks as the thought hit you, and you turned around.

“Benedict wait,” you said, making him stop at the bottom of the stairs before he turned around as well to look at you.

“Yes?”

“We have the Coleshill ball tonight,” you said. “Don’t forget.”

“I haven’t,” he assured you. “At eight, I know. Are we going together?”

“I’ll be back before evening,” you said, shifting your weight. “So we can.”

He nodded and you cleared your throat, motioning at him.

“I mean if it’s fine with you, that is.”

“It’s fine—of course it’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just asked because you’re leaving, so…”

“To my uncle’s,” you replied and offered him a small smile. “Any luck with Lottie?”

“Not at all,” he said with a sigh. “And you?”

“I went there yesterday, she just sent a maid downstairs to tell me she was ill so she ‘couldn’t talk to me’,” you used air quotes and Benedict hummed.

“Same here,” he said. “Anthony says he saw her for a moment, she went to the drawing room to tell him she didn’t want to talk to him, and went straight back to her room.”  

“So she’s not speaking to any of us,” you clicked her tongue. “Great. I’ll talk to her during tonight’s ball, it’s fine.”

“You sound confident.”

“I try,” you murmured. “But if I get to talk to her, I’ll tell her the truth. Just so you know.”

“I doubt we have much of a choice on that, she already knows the general idea,” he commented and you shifted your weight.

“Sorry about that,” you said. “I really didn’t know she was there. I was arguing with Josie, and…”

“Not your fault,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. And Josie?”

“She’ll come around,” you said. “By the way, if she knows then Bess knows as well. And probably Andrew.”

“Alright,” he said and cleared his throat. “I was thinking maybe I should talk to Josie.”

Your eyes widened. “What?” you asked. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“I think she’d want an explanation about this whole thing.”

“Josie isn’t the type to listen to explanations.”

“I’ll try anyway,” he said and thought for a moment. “I should probably try it with a body armor though.”

“She’s not going to stab you,” you said, and shook your head. “She’s not. She knows better.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Both,” you muttered and took a deep breath. “Just—you know. It’ll be fine but be careful.”

“I will.”

“Also make sure there are witnesses around but it’ll be fine,” you added and he pulled his brows together.

“You are terrible at assuring people.”

“I’m working on it,” you admitted and clapped your hands together, offering him a smile. “It’ll be fine, hooray!”

He paused for a moment and blinked a couple of times, then nodded quite enthusiastically.

“Baby steps,” he said as if trying to encourage you. “We’ll get you there.”

You grimaced, making him chuckle and you both stared at each other for a moment, then you frowned, trying to snap out of it.

“Anyway, I’d better go.”

“Right,” Benedict said, shaking his head slightly. “See you when you come back.”  

“Sure thing,” you said and you walked out of the house, then approached the carriage as the coachman opened the door for you.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“My uncle’s house,” you said and got in the carriage. “Thank you.”

                                   *

When you got to your uncle’s house, there was no sign of Teddy or your aunt, and you looked around, then made your way to the closed door of your uncle’s study to knock on it.

“Come in!” he called out and you opened the door to peek your head in.

“Good morning uncle.”

“Oh my Clover is here!” he smiled and got up from his seat. You walked to him to hug him with a laugh.

“Were you busy?”

“Not at all, just going over…” he motioned at his desk. “Never mind. Your aunt and Teddy are outside at the park.”

“Oh that’s alright,” you said. “I was actually hoping I could talk to you?”

“Of course, sit down, sit down!” he said and called for the maid passing by the door, then asked her for some cookies and tea. You sat down on the sofa and he came to take his place on the armchair.

“To what do I owe this wonderful surprise?”

“I need your wisdom.”

“It’s at your service,” he joked as the maid walked in, carrying a tray.

“Thank you,” you said as she placed the cookies and tea on the small coffee table, then curtsied and left the room. You took a sip of your tea and leaned back.

“Any other letters?”

“None,” he said. “As I’ve told you.”

“That’s a relief at least.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he assured you. “Now, what do you need my wisdom for?”

You looked down at the tea cup in your hand, then raised your glances.

“You and auntie have been married for a long time,” you started. “And auntie says you two fell in love after your first dance.”

“We did,” he said with a smile. “I thought I was dreaming when I first saw her.”

You licked your lips. “And you’re…you still love each other.”

“We do.”

“So you’ve never had a fight or anything right?”

He tilted his head. “Clover, what is this about?”

You took a deep breath, then cleared your throat.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you started. “Let’s say you and auntie had a fight and hypothetically it was a big fight and hypothetically you said things.”

“A lot of hypotheticals.”

“I woke up curious,” you replied and he chuckled.

“Is everything alright between you and Benedict?”

“Sure,” you said. “So? What would you do if that happened?”

He reached out to grab a cookie, then hummed.

“To answer your first question, we did have fights, me and your aunt,” he said and you frowned.

“You have the perfect marriage.”

“Perfect marriages don’t just happen, Clover,” he said. “Especially at the start of the said marriage. Yes we were in love, we still are but it doesn’t mean we didn’t have arguments. Every couple is bound to have them sooner or later.”

“Why did you have a fight?”

“Well, marriage is a huge change in one’s life. Takes a bit of time to get used to,” he said. “The important thing is to never forget how much you love the person you’re married to, no matter what you’re fighting over.”

You pressed your lips together and he gave you a small smile.

“How bad was the fight?”

“I uh—I said things,” you admitted and paused for a moment. “Not necessarily nice things.”

“Ah,” he said. “An apology could work, perhaps?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you try?”

“…No,” you said after a beat and sat up straighter. “I have another question.”

“Ask away dear.”

“How did you know?” you asked. “That you were in love with auntie?”

He thought for a couple of seconds, then shrugged his shoulders.

“I suppose I realized that no one else but her made me happier,” he said. “When I imagined my future, anything else was a detail as long as she was there. She was my first thought as I woke up and last thought as I went to sleep and I couldn’t…I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I didn’t have her in my life.”

You blinked a couple of times; the idea was way too familiar to you. You swallowed thickly, then let out a huff of breath and buried your palms into your eyes.

“He loves you,” he said, making you lower your hands. “Anyone could see that. A fight won’t change things as long as you two talk about what happened.”

“That’s not my strongest suit,” you murmured and he chuckled.

“No harm in trying.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Perhaps because it is easy?” he asked. “If you’re wondering the key to a good marriage, it’s knowing when to listen and when to apologize.”

You slipped a little on the sofa and hummed.

“What if I try to apologize and he doesn’t want to hear it?”

“No offense Clover but out of the two of you, I’d say it’s you who doesn’t want to hear apologies and not him.”

You pouted your lips.

“That’s not…” you started to protest, then let out a noise of agreement and shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, you might be right about that.”

                                  *

Coleshill Ball was an absolute blast. Lord Easton had apparently decided to attend along with Lucy and Henry, and he was instantly surrounded by many people trying to talk to him. He had only had a couple of seconds to greet you and Benedict before his many admirers started talking over each other, eager to have a conversation with him. The orchestra was very talented as well, so everyone seemed to be having fun, dancing and socializing.

Everyone except you, Benedict and Anthony. The three of you found yourselves huddled in the corner of the room while Lottie adamantly ignored you, busy with her conversation with Lord Finney after their dance. Lord Finney hadn’t stopped eyeing Lottie with a small smirk you didn’t like since the end of their dance, and you could swear if you tried to pass by Anthony’s eyesight, you would have dropped dead from a thousand invisible daggers he was glaring at Lord Finney whereas Benedict looked nearly impatient, biting inside his cheek.

“Can I stab him?” you asked to no one in particular and both Benedict and Anthony answered at the same time.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You looked up at Benedict. “The head of the family said yes.”

“Now you want to listen to someone?” he asked you. “Not to mention him of all people? You don’t even like him.”

“I’m standing right here Ben.”

“She doesn’t like you Anthony,” Benedict deadpanned without so much as sparing him a glance and you made a face.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you mused. “I’ve been nothing but nice to Anthony.”

Anthony leaned forward to look at you around Benedict’s arm, a look of disbelief etched in his features. “This is you being nice?”

“You’re standing here alive and well, so yes.”

Benedict suppressed a laugh, and you took a deep breath, pursing your lips.

“You know what, that’s enough,” you said. “The next dance will not start for a half an hour, I’ll go there and talk to her.”

“And Finney?”

“I’ll threaten him,” you said and Benedict nodded.

“Want me to come with you?”

“I can intimidate people by myself Benedict, have some faith,” you told him and walked away from them to approach Lottie and Lord Finney.

“Lottie,” you said as you reached them. “Good evening.”

She stole a look at you, pouting. “Good evening to you too Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“…Fair enough,” you muttered and nodded in Finney’s direction. “Leave us.”

“Mrs. Bridgerton—”

You turned to him, your eyes narrowing into a cold glare as your voice lowered into a growl.

“I said leave.”

A look of intimidation crossed his eyes and he swallowed thickly, then took a step back and bowed his head before walking away from you both.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Lottie said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not interested in being nice,” you commented and gave her a small smile. “Can we talk Lottie? Please?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment, that pout still apparent on her lips.

“Five minutes is all I ask,” you said. “I’d like to explain myself if you’d let me.”

She thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Great,” you said, a smile lighting up your face, “Let’s go outside.”

She followed you out of the ballroom and you both stepped outside to the garden. Thankfully there weren’t people around which was no wonder considering how fun the ball was inside, so you approached the nearest bench and sat down, Lottie taking her spot next to you.

“So?” she asked. “If you’re going to tell me any more lies—”

“I’m not,” you cut her off and shook your head. “I’m not going to lie to you, and I’m sorry that I did. I really am.”

That seemed to take her by surprise and she frowned slightly.

“And I know you heard my and Josie’s argument but I don’t think of you gullible or anything, it was just something I said because I was frustrated with Josie and the whole thing. I hope you know that.”

She nodded and thought for a moment.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “From the very beginning.”

So you did. If anything, it was such a relief that you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, and when you were finished a silence fell upon you both before Lottie let out a breath.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Exactly. You know what the ton thinks of me, they say Benedict married me because I trapped him or lured him away from you, or I planned it—”

“That’s not true.”

“And if they thought a scandal happened, you know what they would say about me,” you said. “So we told no one. The only reason we told Anthony was because he—he needed to know, considering everything. As I said, even my family doesn’t know.”

“Did you not trust me?”

“That’s not the reason,” you shook your head. “Lottie, you were so happy for us. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint you and I’m sure Benedict feels the same.”

“You could never disappoint me,” she said. “I was just—I was sad.”

“I know.”

She nibbled on her lip and took a deep breath.

“Well,” she said. “At least it’s a relief that it wasn’t all a lie.”

“What?”

“Benedict and you have a love marriage.”

You raised your brows. “Uh, Lottie—”

“You two got married because you were caught kissing.”

“That’s lust Lottie, not love,” you said in a haste and she rolled her eyes at you.

“You honestly can’t see how he looks at you?” she asked. “Or how you look at him?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you sat up straighter. “Well because we had to pretend to be in love—”

“No one is that good of a pretender,” she said. “Not even you. And I’ve known Benedict for a long time, so I’d be able to tell if he were in fact pretending. It’s alright if you can’t see it yet, but I will be here to say I told you so when you finally realize that it is in fact a love marriage.”

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat and averted your glances.

“Benedict and I are…” you trailed off. “We’re bound.”

“By marriage?”

“By fate.”

“By your hearts as well,” she pointed out and smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You hugged her back, and heaved a sigh when she pulled back.

“I’d better go, otherwise my next dance partner will assume I’m avoiding him,” she sighed and stood up. “Are you coming?”

“I think I’ll get some fresh air, it helps me think,” you said. “But I could also intimidate your next dance partner if you’d like.”

“I don’t wish to be rude,” she told you with a giggle and you saw Anthony stepping out of the house, making you tilt your head. Lottie turned around as he made his way to you.

“Charlotte, can we—?”

“No because I’m still angry at you,” Lottie said. “And I’m angry at Benny too, make sure to tell him that please.”

You pressed your lips together to contain your laughter at Anthony’s puzzled expression, but before he could say anything, Lottie stuck her nose in the air and walked past him to go back into the house. Anthony threw his head back and heaved a sigh while you leaned back, resting your elbows on the back of the bench.

“She forgave you?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

“And she refuses to talk to me.”

“I have a more charming personality than you do.”

“Not really,” he said. “I mean just because your marriage is turbulent, doesn’t mean you should go around making others’ the same as well.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion. “You’re not married, in case it has escaped your notice.”

“I could’ve been,” he pointed out, “if I could get some spare time from the string of scandals you all throw at me. First you and Benedict, then Daphne and Simon, and now Colin wants to marry Miss Marina.”

“Wait really?” you asked. “It feels like yesterday he was getting all nervous to even talk to her. They grow up so fast.”

“Colin is older than you, Y/N.”

“That’s irrelevant,” you said and he came to sit beside you.

“So yeah, if everyone could stop for a moment to let me at least court Charlotte without getting in the way, it would be much appreciated.”

You smiled slightly and shrugged your shoulders.

“Patience is a virtue they say,” you said. “Perhaps waiting patiently will teach you a valuable lesson in the meantime.”

He scoffed. “Have you ever waited patiently for anything?”

“I’ve been waiting patiently for this conversation to end ever since you opened your mouth,” you retorted and rolled your eyes. “But if anything, she wants to marry you too.”

He turned to you, hope shining in his eyes. “She said that?”

“She mentioned it, yes,” you said. “So until she decides to forgive you, send her flowers, proclaim your undying love on a bent knee, whatever it is that in love people do.”

He nodded slowly, then cleared his throat.

“Speaking of that,” he said. “Is everything okay between Benedict and you?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you said and stole a glance at him. “What did he tell you?”

“He mentioned that you two had an argument but judging by the tortured look on his face for the last weeks up until a couple of days ago, I’d say it’s something more than a simple argument.”

You bit on your nail, keeping your gaze on the house.

“I’m not very pleasant when I’m angry,” you said and he raised his brows.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not very pleasant when you’re not angry either,” he stated and you turned your head to make a face at him.

“I would say I’m more pleasant than you but let’s be honest, it’s not like you’re setting a high standard there” you told him, making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Fair enough,” he said. “But just so you know; whatever it is that is bothering you, whatever happened between you and Benedict, if my help is needed in any way it’s at your service.”

You blinked a couple of times, furrowing your brows.

“…Why?”

“Because you’re family.”

A tentative smile curled your lips and your eyes darted over his face to get a hint of insincerity, but it wasn’t there.

“Thank you,” you mumbled after a pause and he shook his head.

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you saw Benedict stepping outside. Anthony turned to look at him, then stood up.

“I’ll try my chances to talk to Charlotte,” he said and walked away from you, passing by Benedict to get in the house. Benedict put his hands in his pockets and approached you.

“Hello there.”

“Hello,” you said and stuck your nose in the air in an exaggerated smug manner. “Lottie forgave me.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yes but she’s still angry at you and Anthony,” you said and he hummed.

“That explains why she glared at me when she got back in the ballroom just now.”

You grinned. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“I appreciate that,” he said with a chuckle and motioned at the bench. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said and he sat beside you, making you bite down on your lip, stealing a look at him.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“I’m…” you paused for a moment, your heart climbing up to your throat in nervousness, making you take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

A look of surprise crossed his face and you sat up straighter, turning to see him better.

“I don’t…I don’t really pay attention to the words I say when I’m angry, which is no excuse but—I’m working on it,” you said, nodding as if trying to encourage yourself. “And I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean any of that.”

A soft light appeared in his eyes and he nodded.

“Your apology is heard and accepted,” he quoted you, making you frown in doubt.

“That easily?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “That easily.”

“I would’ve made me suffer more.”

“Good thing we’re complete opposites then,” he said and you bit back a smile.

“Good thing for me at the very least,” you commented as the beginning notes of the orchestra’s dance tune reached your ears. Benedict stole a look at you.

“Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t feel like going back inside,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Too crowded.”

“Who said we needed to go back inside?” he asked as he stood up to offer his hand. A scoff of laughter escaped from your mouth, and your eyes went from his hand up to his face to see whether he was jesting or not. That playful lopsided grin curled his lips as you placed your hand in his, and he pulled you up to your feet.

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh I absolutely am,” he said as he entwined his fingers with yours and you let him twirl you before he pulled you closer, a giggle climbing up your throat despite you trying to repress it.

You two were standing much closer than this dance -or any dance- required, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You rested a hand on his broad chest, feeling the thrumming of his heart underneath your fingertips and he sneaked an arm around your waist, burying his nose into your hair while you two swayed slowly with the tune.

“I missed this,” Benedict murmured into your hair and you closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling his pleasant scent as discreetly as you could, all your senses full of him.

“Dancing?”

“Holding you,” he said softly and you smiled, opening your eyes but not pulling back.

“It’s peaceful,” you whispered and he hummed, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb, the simple gesture making your stomach do a happy flip.

“It is.”

“I missed it too,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “It’s been—”

“Hey lovebirds!” Henry’s voice cut through you and you pulled back, both you and Benedict turning to look at him. Lucy elbowed Henry.

“I told you not to interrupt!”

“They can continue that later on,” Henry said as you felt your cheeks burn, shifting your weight before you managed to smile at them.

“Hello.”

“We have a party to catch, come on,” Henry held up an envelope. “Apparently Jane felt like throwing a celebration for the sake of it all of a sudden, Thomas just sent word. You’re both invited as well.”

“Everyone is already there,” Lucy added and Henry grinned.

“Gordon is coming as well—we’ll go get the carriage,” he said and they both walked away from you. Benedict heaved a sigh.

“I don’t think—” you paused for a moment. “I think I’ll skip this one but you should go.”

“Oh no, I don’t have to be there,” he said in a haste and you smiled slightly.

“Benedict,” you said. “Go have fun, it’s been a while. I would’ve come with if it were any other time, but I think I should try to make things better between Lottie and Anthony—don’t tell him I said that.”

He pulled his brows together. “Sorry, you’ll try to make things better between them?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you and what did you do to my wife?”

Your heart skipped a beat at that but you bit back a smile, then heaved a sigh.

“What can I say? I’m very compassionate.”

He shot you a playful look before pointing at the house with his thumb. “Was there something in the lemonade?”

“I feel responsible,” you said. “And I don’t know, he’s—he’s family, so I should just at least try to patch things between them. Put in a good word and such.”

That made him smile before he cleared his throat.

“I don’t have to go, it’s just some party,” he insisted. “I’ll help you.”

“Lottie isn’t talking to you either, I doubt you’d be much of a help,” you reminded him and let out a laugh. “Go. I swear this is not me setting you up for…for a fight in the morning. I’ll make things better between those two and then go home. I doubt I’ll be able to talk to you when we go into that ballroom anyway, no reason for you to come with.”

He thought for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Go have fun. I’ll come with you to the other one, I promise.”

He looked at you as if trying to read your mind and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be home early, okay? Definitely before you go to sleep.”

“Alright,” you said. “Well I have a very stubborn friend to convince, so if you’ll excuse me...”

He smiled softly, then held your hand to place a kiss on the back of it, making your heartbeat faster.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours then.”

“Deal,” you said, your cheeks still burning. “Have fun, give everyone my regards.”

“Good luck with those two,” he said, nodding in the direction of the house before walking away from you and you heaved a sigh, then licked your lips.

“Alright,” you muttered, painfully aware of the smile on your face as you made your way to the house. “This should be interesting.”

Chapter 32

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND TWO - PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a deal is made.

wc: 2k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, official first meeting, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, sassy touya again

note: idk how fake dating premises with plots are created like this took me a good 30 minutes of just straight thinking trying to figure out what is a plausible fake dating idea. anyway thank you for all the love on part one, hope you enjoy this part!! also overdue idea credit to @andypantsx3 who originally created a crown prince!touya piece (read it here!) that probably subconsciously inspired this entire series. thank you and hope you enjoy :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

Your maid’s face was whiter than her knuckles gripping the sides of her apron. 

“You have a caller, miss,” she informs you carefully, bowing slowly and failing to hide her trembling. “It is…”

“I am aware of who it is,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your pointer finger and your thumb. It’d been exactly one week since Prince Touya all but julienned the ego of your pasty-faced suitor and you hadn’t received so much as a letter of greeting from him since then. All you received once the dust settled were mixed expressions of disgust and awe, along with a shit-eating smirk from the royal currently waiting to be led into the drawing room. “My stepmother?” 

“At tea, miss, with the neighbors. She won’t be back for several hours.” You swear under your breath. With all other members of the family out of the house and your stepmother bragging about your prospects with the sought-after prince, you were on your own. 

“Send him in when the minute hand next strikes six. Tell him I’m in the bath, or something.” 

“As you wish, miss.” Your maid nods and promptly exits the room, leaving you slumped on the settee with no ideas but to beeline for the back doors and disappear among the trees of the garden. Hiking up your skirt and slipping into the yard, you’re careful to shut the door quietly behind you. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him, even though you didn’t; in truth, it was fear of what he might say to you or how you two may interact. How are you supposed to look at a man suspected of committing treason against the king, his own father, and upkeep the manners drilled into your head since birth? It seemed too great of a burden to bear, so you resolved to forget your problems and the stranger in your house by walking amongst the flowers, blue hydrangeas that continued to bloom despite the sweltering summer heatwaves. It’s calming, being alone with nothing but the greenery. As your fingers brush over the delicately clumped petals, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up stick-straight and you don't need to turn around to see why. 

“It’s rude to enter a lady’s house unannounced, Your Highness,” you say into the open air and hear him step out from behind a neighboring tree. 

“I believe I was announced, considering the shaken demeanor of your poor maid.” His voice is low and raspy, like he’d just woken up.  

“What if I was still in the bath?” 

“You’ll have to tell my maids what you use to dry your hair so rapidly,” he replies and you catch him slinking over to you from the corner of your vision, approaching you carefreely with his hands in the pockets of his coat. You don’t look at him yet; in your mind, he was like a monster under the bed. If you simply didn’t look at him, he’d go away. “Unless, of course,” his voice appears over your shoulder and goosebumps break out over your skin. Not yet. Don’t look him in the eyes yet. “You weren’t in the bath at all. At least, not recently.” 

“I’m not sure what gave you the right to invade my house and muse upon my bathing habits,” you counter, finally turning to meet his stare and willing yourself not to wither under it. He wasn’t close enough to feel his body heat, but the arrogance that radiated from his entire being was enough to make you sweat more than the bright sun. He considered you curiously, tilting his head to the side and narrowing those molten blue eyes that perplexed you so. You risk a glance at the scar tissue just under his eyes and chin, its deep purple color rumored to be the result of a fire accident while he was sent away. It unnerved you, but you still found the courage to stare back with consideration of your own, challenging him to say something else. His eyes narrow again for half a second before he brushes past you, walking further down your current path in the garden. 

“You were keeping me waiting,” he states simply. “Not to mention, I am royalty.” You freeze, keenly aware of the power of the man admiring your daisies. “I believe it is you who should be considered the rude one.” The teasing lilt in his voice is not lost to you, but you’re too dumbfounded by his bluntness to think on it further. 

“Argues the one who won my affections and then refrained from any means of communication for a week,” you point out with slight irritation, following him around the bend at a safe distance. He hums again thoughtfully, walking among the flowers like it was his property. Your tease falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Did His Highness run out of royal parchment to write his letters?” 

“Royal candle wax, actually,” he answers stoically, but you catch the mischievous shine in his eyes when they flick to meet yours. “Dreadful effort, trying to write without my beloved candle lit.” 

“Oh, and what is a prince to do?” You’re unable to hide the smirk that finds its way onto your face and he seems to notice your less-hostile demeanor, the faintest amusement breaking out on his features. Handsome features, you had to stop yourself from admitting. “I don’t understand,” you say after a deep exhale.  

“I believe the candle was a gift from my great-grandfather.” His eyes continue to look over the rainbow of petals lightly swaying in the breeze. “Terribly well-loved by my father and the court alike.” 

“No, Your Highness–”

“If this is to work, you must refer to me as Touya.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“That is precisely what I don’t understand.” You muster up what courage you could to close the distance between you two, crossing your arms to properly confront him. “What are you trying to play at, Your Highness? What is supposed to ‘work?’ With all due respect, I’d like to know now if I am one of your latest games to irritate your relatives.” 

“And what would you do if you were?” Shit. His attention moves from the flowers to your face and you’re met with the same cold, unwavering stare from the week prior. “What could you do, realistically, but play along? I am royalty.” 

“You needn’t keep reminding me, sir,” you mumble. “But before we continue, I feel you must know. I did not have the intention of entertaining suitors this season.” You catch one of the maids peeping from around the corner of a topiary and motion for her to prepare tea for you and your caller. 

“What were you doing at the presentation duels, then?” 

“Fulfilling the wishes of my stepmother,” you answer wryly. “Whatever plans you have devised, I am the wrong lady to assist in enacting them.”

“I imagine that, instead of participating in this season, you would rather be reading from the libraries of King All Might himself?” The Prince falls into step behind you while you make your way to the garden’s gazebo, fully furnished to accommodate callers. You sensed, however, this particular suitor would rather sit on the floor than at your family’s lofty dining set. 

“I’m surprised you understand,” you remark, neatening a stray napkin. When you look behind you, the prince is leaning his shoulder against the frame of the gazebo and observing you. Your manners somehow return, despite his lack thereof. “Do you prefer Earl Grey or green?” 

“Neither,” he replies immediately. “I don’t care for tea.” 

“Nor do I, but the servants will linger if we don’t give them a chance to gossip in the kitchen.” The prince’s eyes narrow once again only for a moment, like you said something unexpected. 

“In that case, tell them green.” You murmur his request to the nearest servant and the handful subtly eavesdropping politely excuse themselves back into the house, no doubt eager to relay what little information you and the prince had exchanged. 

“You still haven’t enlightened me on why, of all the ladies present at the duels, you chose to duel for my hand,” you begin as he takes his seat across from you and pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Especially when I am guaranteed to hinder any plans you have for–”

“You know nothing of my plans, as of yet,” he interjects. His face is carefully blank, seemingly too calm for your present situation. “Your reluctance to entertain suitors is exactly what is going to help me leave this kingdom.” 

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate. “Your Highness, I do not wish to be in this season at all.”

“I share the same sentiment. Here is my proposal that will, in theory, rid us of both of our stressors: I will court you and, on the night of my father’s ball where I will surely propose, I will disappear, leaving you with nothing but a broken heart and a humble reparation of $100,000. A percentage of which, I note, can then be used to book passage out of Musutafu and find those books from King All Might’s mythical library. Do you follow?” You don’t remember when your jaw fell open, but it takes significant effort to regain your composure. When you eventually register what the prince had just offered, your face burns from a feeling you had never experienced before. It was a mixture of shame and shock, but mostly…excitement? 

“You’re out of your mind,” you manage to force out. “I don’t think–How could we–It would never work!” What the hell was he thinking? 

“You don’t know that,” he answers coolly. Maybe he’s not thinking at all. Maybe the prince is an idiot. 

“But why not leave now? Why wait until the night of your father’s ball?” An unreadable look crosses over his face, one that makes your stomach turn. He fixes himself in a blink, though, and the sudden darkness that fell over the prince’s face is gone before you can comment on it. “I just don’t understand why you need my help doing this, Your Highness.”

“My father grows impatient,” he admits bitterly and when you meet his gaze, it’s burning. “He wishes to crown me as king within three month’s time, and I–” 

“You do not wish to rule,” you finish quietly, the realization clicking together in your mind. “By courting a lady, you force him to put off your coronation until you propose.” 

“By courting you,” he explains further, “I also guarantee that this affair will remain strictly one of business.” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. 

“You think that if a woman were to fall in love with you, she would reveal your true whereabouts?” 

“Women are fickle creatures,” he states simply. “You did not wish to fall in love this season, so you will not reveal my true whereabouts once I have faked my passing.” He sighs, pulling back the sleeve of his coat and checking the time on his watch. “It really is quite simple. Allow me to court you, stay silent about my disappearance, and be rewarded with $100,000.” 

“And if we’re caught? If this charade is revealed as a farce and your father declares you King the following day?”

“Doubt in my plans is the first step away from succeeding,” he concludes. An approaching servant with a fresh pot of tea momentarily takes your attention and the prince stands, bowing in farewell while you’re still frozen behind your teacup. “I do hope you’ll join me at the races tomorrow afternoon,” he drawls out your name once the servant places the pot on the small table. His voice drips honey-sweet poison, drawing you in even as your body screams at you to run. The message hidden beneath his words, however, is clearer than crystal. “But, in the case of your absence, I will assume my affections have been denied.” You stand, dipping into a graceful curtsy. As you rise, your words ring in your ears before you can stop them. 

“I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[wingdingery]

ohhhh i always have requests! quite fond of lil drabble ideas: bruce teaching dick to dance and (years later when they’re together) they recreating some of their first dances, slade being the one to gift dick his first leather jacket that he still regularly wears, An Event Occurs and in the aftermath dick realizes how irreplaceable he is to bruce and just how much bruce both loves him and needs him, bruce and dick’s undercover aliases that keep getting more and more romantic over the years

In Dick’s experience, returning to his apartment after a week away and finding a mysterious box on the coffee table that was definitely not there when he left is, usually, not actually a big deal.

He’s still careful—the little Batman that lives in the back of his head would never give him a moment of peace if he wasn’t—but he’s just very aware of the fact that, nine times out of ten, the not-so-little Batman is the one breaking in and leaving little treats for him to find later, because Bruce is deathly allergic to seeing people’s reactions to his gifts in real-time.

Dick runs through the standard checks, but nothing sounds or smells off, and nothing pings as suspicious on infrared or the particulate detector. He steps closer to inspect the box. It’s rectangular, all white, and generally unremarkable except for the fact that he didn’t put it there.

Carefully, he lifts the lid. He’s expecting some kind of gear—it wouldn’t be the first time a new suit or toys showed up unannounced.

What he finds is a leather moto jacket.

He gently lifts it out of the box and stares at it, bemused. It’s very nice—genuine Italian leather by the feel of it, black with silver hardware and diagonal pockets in the shape of a V, and just his size. There’s no note of any kind, but when he sniffs the leather, he also gets a whiff of maple and gun oil—and that feels like a signature in and of itself.

Dick pulls out his phone, dials in the number from memory, and sinks into the couch as it rings. 

“Happy birthday,” Slade says when he picks up, voice low and rumbling.

Dick suppresses a smile. “You’re late.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“You really wanna know the answer to that?”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek and fiddles with the zipper of the jacket. They’ve been getting along all right ever since they’d been forced to team up on the cruise ship from hell, but still, a little plausible deniability goes a long way, between them. “How long ‘til I find out on my own?”

“Now that depends,” Slade says, drawing out the words. “You still talking to Rose?”

Dick blinks. “You were visiting Rose?”

“Something like that.”

“She shut the door in your face,” Dick guesses.

Slade grunts. “We can meet not at her apartment.”

“And she’s moving?”

“And she’s moving.” Slade doesn’t sound particularly annoyed about it, but then again, finding people who don’t want to be found is basically his job. Dick makes a mental note to see if Rose wants a hand making her dad’s life harder.

“So why the jacket?” Dick says, running his hand over the leather. It really is nice. He wonders where Slade got it, and whether it was paid for in money or blood. He probably doesn’t want to know.

“You complained I made you ruin yours,” Slade says. “Reckon we’re square now.”

Dick raises his eyebrows, even though Slade can’t see it. “I don’t remember doing that, but if I did, it had to have been, what… seven years ago? At least?”

“I’ve got a long memory.” It sounds vaguely like a threat, in Slade’s voice, but the jacket itself seems far from one, so Dick lets it pass.

“If you’re trying to make up for that,” Dick says, “then you’re really late.”

“You’d’ve thrown it straight in the trash if I ever tried before.”

“I could still do that.”

“You won’t.”

“Well, now I have to.”

Slade scoffs. “Go ahead. Would be a waste of perfectly good leather, though.”

The desire for knowledge wins out. “Where’d you get it?”

“Made it.”

Dick pauses, uncertain he’d heard correctly. When Slade doesn’t elaborate, though, Dick echoes, uncertainly, “Made it?”

“Wintergreen helped some.”

Dick opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Made it?

“Who exactly did you think made my first few costumes?” Slade says, sounding amused. “Not all of us have your daddy’s resources.”

It’s one thing for Slade to have bought him something; Dick can explain that away as just a whim—an act of opportunity, as it were. But Slade spending the time and energy to make it himself?

That’s premeditation.

“This isn’t a birthday gift.”

“I said happy birthday, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t just a birthday gift,” Dick presses.

Slade doesn’t respond, and Dick lets the silence stretch far past the point of discomfort. Still, neither of them hangs up. Slade may be a stubborn asshole, but Dick has been trained in the art of silence-offs by the most frustratingly stoic of them all.

Dick smooths out the collar of the jacket and straightens out the arms while he waits. Now that he’s looking closer, he can tell the seams aren’t the tidy stitches of a lifelong craftsman, but it’s impressive work, all the same. Work that must have taken a hell of a lot of effort. 

Finally, Slade breaks the rhythm of quiet breathing. “Whatever it is,” he says, “it’s yours now. Throw it in the trash if you want. Or don’t. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

It has everything to do with Slade, but the fact that Slade is insisting so hard that it doesn’t is both a little funny and extremely sad. Dick can recognize a fear of rejection when he hears it. 

Dick puts a hand on top of the jacket. “It doesn’t really make sense to give me this,” he says, “if you’re never going to see me wear it.”

Slade is silent for a moment, but not as long as before. “I’ve got time,” he says, slowly, like he’s leaving space for Dick to cut him off between one word and the next. “Two weeks from now.”

“Two weeks,” Dick agrees. “I assume you don’t need the address.”

“Think I’ve got it.” Slade’s voice is dry, but lacking its usual knife-sharp edge. “See you soon, kid.”

He hangs up before Dick can respond. 

Dick smiles anyway. “See you soon.”

----

Footnote: RIP Dick's expensive jacket (this is $300 in 80s money)

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Fall | Mat Barzal

wc. 730

A beautiful fall day with Mat Barzal

This was your favorite type of day. 

The kind of day where it’s the end of summer, and the weather is starting to cool but you still have a choice of shorts to wear if you wanted to. The air is crisp, with a hint of fall and all things good. It reminds you of the first day of school when you were a kid, rushing into the new classroom and heading straight towards your friends, with absolutely no care in the world. 

As you grew up you found the beauty of days like this and relished it. You always ended up at a nearby dog park, your tiny pup running around and playing with other dogs. You sat at a bench nearby, reading whatever novel caught your attention this week. 

It was peaceful, not many people were at the park today helping you focus more on the book before you. You had read pretty much half the novel, extremely invested in the story before you. Suddenly you hear a dog bark loudly, and you look up just as he comes tumbling towards you. He didn’t have any malice in his eyes, only pure happiness as he bounded towards you excited to meet another person. 

When the dog reaches your feet you hold out a hand, smiling fondly at the husky. He lets you draw your hand over his head, scratching lightly behind his ears. You’re grinning at the friendly pup so much you don’t even notice the out of breath boy before you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, causing you to look up. 

For a second you’re struck by his features, his brown hair flops across his forehead, a genuine smile braced on his lips. Your heart skips a beat before dropping down between your feet and rolling to a stop. 

“You’re all good,” you finally choke out. 

“Belle really likes people,” he continues with a gesture towards the husky still happily panting at your feet. 

“She’s adorable,” you say, smiling up at him. 

“Uhm, Mat,” he says, sticking out his hand awkwardly. 

You take it in your hand, offering your name in response and he smiles. He looks around, spotting your dachshund slowly but surely making his way over to you. 

“Awe is he yours?” Mat asks cooing at your tiny pet. 

“He is. His name is oliver or ollie,” you respond. 

He leans down, running a hand over your panting dog before scooping him up into his arms. Your dog leans his head on Mat’s chest, similar to the way he does to you and your face immediately softens. 

“He’s precious,” Mat says, smiling at you. 

“He likes you. He doesn’t like many people.” 

Mat grins widely at that, eventually putting Ollie down and the dog sits next to him still seemingly smiling at the boy before you. 

“Can I sit?” Mat asks and you nod, moving your bag to the ground next to you. 

By now both your dogs have bound off again, running and chasing each other causing a giggle to erupt from you at the size difference of the dogs. 

“What are you reading?” Mat asks, tipping your book up to see the cover. 

“Misery,” you respond sheepishly. 

“You’re a writer,” he states like you just said it yourself. 

You tilt your head at the essential stranger, wondering how he knew that quickly. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging as if he can feel your confusion. 

“My friend is a writer. Always has their head in a book. Not sure why though,” he explains, and you grin. 

“Gotta get the good ideas from the best.” 

Mat nods like this makes perfect sense to him and you smile, slowly shutting your book to turn to him. 

“And what do you do for a living?” 

You’re surprisingly shocked when the sun starts to set and your dog has been next to your side laying down for the past half hour. You had been smiling and laughing for nearly two hours getting to know Mat. 

“Uh so I’m late to practice,” he says and you nod. “But can I get your number?” 

He slides you his phone and you’re quick to type your number in. When you hand it back to him he’s grinning widely as he slides his phone into his pocket before calling his dog back over. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, winking before walking away. 

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 18

A night out at the speakeasy leads to an unexpected connection. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-17 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (broken up), Tommy Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT :D unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up!) and Tommy being an absolute flirt. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only!

Length: 4.8 k

Saturday, May 15, 2010 - Six Months Later

“I need more than a drink,” Lucy put her head on the front desk of the clinic with a groan. “I need at least 2. Probably five.” 

“I think they have that,” Andrew said, smiling a little. “Pretty much the whole draw.” 

“That one guy was such a dick,” she propped her chin on her fist. “Why did I decide to become a nurse again? Why did I think this was a good idea?” 

“Because you made career choices before the world ended and then stuck it out?” You said, sitting on top of the desk behind the counter. 

“Yeah being a nurse wasn’t exactly a walk in the park then, either,” she grumbled. “This is my problem, I’m basically an addict, I get one REALLY GOOD patient and then I act like that fixes alllllll the assholes…” 

“Sounds like dating men,” Marta joined your little group from the exam area. “Lee is finishing up with the final patient and then we’re free. We’re so close, guys. So close I can taste it.” Marta glanced over at you and groaned. “Aw, Doc, you got changed? You look all cute and shit? That’s not fair!” 

“Hey,” you replied. “I have nowhere else to wear the cute dress. You have dates. I have speakeasy night with my coworkers, just give me this.” 

“You could have dates too, if you wanted,” Jess was perched on the other side of the horseshoe shaped desk, Andrew squarely between you in his office chair. Her feet were in his lap. “All you’d have to do is just say yes to one of the guys who talks to you or actually ask someone out.” 

“Yes but why should I when I have you lovely people, all our patients and Petri dishes in the lab to keep me company?” You smiled. Andrew and Jess shared a brief look. You tried to not roll your eyes. Mostly because they’d given you a lot of leeway in the past almost year since you and Joel had split up. Especially when you got back from your trip outside the QZ. 

You hadn’t even bothered to go home that night. You walked straight to Andrew and Jess’ place, knocking on the door and trying to not cry until you were inside. Andrew was the one to answer and you fell into him, burying your face in his chest as it felt like you were cracking open with the pain of it. 

“You were right,” you choked out as he pulled you inside. “About what he did out there, you were right…” 

“Oh, honey,” he wrapped his arms around you the best he could with the backpack in the way, kissing the top of your head before tucking you below his chin. “I’m so sorry. I wish I was wrong. I really do.” 

You slept there that night, Andrew sandwiched between you and Jess, other people and the safety that came with them the only thing that let you rest. 

You’d managed to avoid Joel since you’d returned. It had been half a year since you last saw him that night at the QZ fence. There were signs of him, though. He was usually on your mind somehow, not that you were happy about it. 

A few weeks after the trip, you passed Tess on your way to look for a few more books and CDs at the underground sellers’ shops. She didn’t notice you but you noticed her. It looked like she’d gotten into a fight, she had a black eye and gash at her throat. You frowned. 

“Tess?” You changed direction to follow her. “Tess!” 

She turned and looked surprised that you’d talk to her for a moment before meeting you in the middle. 

“Doc,” she looked you up and down. She had a tendency to do that, you noticed. She liked to evaluate things. Like she thought you might have changed since she last saw you. “Good to see you.” 

“You too,” you smiled. “Look, I’m happy I ran into you, I’ve been thinking…” You glanced around and tugged her off to the side of the road. “You and Tommy and… everyone, you’re still making runs, right?” 

“Not taking you out there again,” she shook her head. “Joel was pretty firm on that…” 

“No, that’s fine,” you waved her off. “I just… You know that saying ‘an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?’” 

“Sure,” she shrugged. 

“Well there’s only so much I can do for you if you guys come back already hurt, down a lot of blood, all that jazz,” you said. “But if I gave you some basic trauma supplies, showed you how to use them…” 

“You’d do that,” she said it more than asked it. 

“Of course,” you frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?” She didn’t say anything else, so you just pressed on. “Could you plan to come by my apartment sometime this week, late? I can put together some kits, show you what to do for common injuries…” 

“Wednesday?” She asked. 

“After 10:30,” you said. “Should give me time to get home from the clinic.” You were surprised to learn that you actually kind of liked Tess. She showed up to your apartment not long after you did. Wednesday had been a rough one and your shirt was still bloody, deciding to prioritize getting the blood out of your hairline instead of changing your clothes. 

“Doc,” she said by way of greeting, her eyes drifting to the blood on your shirt and back up to your face, strand of bloody hair still in your fingers. 

“Sorry,” you said, giving an apologetic smile. “Had to do a field amputation today without anesthesia, it was a mess… I’m making tea, want a cup?” 

“I’ll take tea,” she said, coming in and sitting at the table. You got your still bloody hair out of the way and quickly pulled the shirt off before grabbing a t-shirt out of the drawer and pulling it on. 

“Sorry,” you smiled apologetically again. “I just really needed to get at least some of that blood off me…” 

You put the tea on the table and grabbed the kit you put together, giving Tess a crash course in trauma stabilization 101. 

“So were you a military doctor when this shit started?” She asked after you packed the supplies back up. 

“Oh God no,” you laughed. “No, I was a biology teacher. I was finishing up a pre-med degree though, and I’d always wanted to be a doctor so I was just reading everything I could find to get a jump on med school. I got here, they were setting up medical facilities with all of one doctor so he trained me.” 

“And how’d you meet Joel?” She was sitting back in he chair, watching you. His name made your stomach clench. 

“You could ask him,” you said, looking at the almost empty tea cup. 

She scoffed. 

“You are an off limits topic,” she said. “For both Miller men, as it happens. Joel doesn’t answer, Tommy says it’s not his shit to say. Joel got back from the trip with you, said nothing for three days and then pretended that nothing happened.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“And you don’t like not knowing,” you said. She smiled. 

“Exactly.” 

You signed, fidgeting with the mug. 

“I met Joel in 1999,” you said. Her eyes went wide. “It’s why they called me Kid, I was just 20 back then, still in college.” 

“Jesus, you were a kid. He still a grumpy asshole then?” She laughed. You laughed back. 

“Very rarely,” you said. “Punched Tommy in the face at a bar once because Joel was being an asshole and Tommy called him on it. Though I made him watch ‘When Harry Met Sally’ and he actually liked it. Tried so hard not to laugh at the fake orgasm scene he choked on his beer.” 

She laughed at that. She told you about some of her life before, too. Spending summer on a lake with her husband and son, a mishap when renovating their basement that left a giant splotch of paint over the new linoleum that they’d never been able to properly clean up. You got both of you beer.

“I was never sure who the outbreak was worse for,” she said. “People like me who had a life going that got ripped away or people like you who never really had a fucking chance at one.” 

“We all got screwed,” you said. “Sometimes I think we all died back then, everyone who’s left is just a ghost of what they would have been otherwise.” 

“And you still wear ribbons on your braids,” she nodded to your hair. You glanced down, the blue ribbon splotched purple where the blood had splattered it. You smiled a little. 

“There are very few things that make life worth it anymore,” you said after a moment. “And life is too short to not wear the damn ribbons.” 

You knew they were using the trauma kit supplies. Tess would show up every six weeks or so, asking for a resupply. She’d even asked for a new euthanasia kit once. You almost had a panic attack before she had the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Joel or Tommy, just a traveler they’d run into who couldn’t bring themselves to turn their gun on themselves. But you hadn’t needed to come pull a bullet out of any of them again, so you were counting their trips as a success. 

“Alright kids,” Lee came out from the exam area, lab coat still on. “We are all set, they’re getting dressed and then we are out of here!” 

“I’m going for the jukebox as soon as we get there,” Marta said. “No one try to stop me!” 

“Oh God,” Andrew groaned. “You’re going to make us listen to the Backstreet Boys all night aren’t you?” 

“Think they’re still alive out there?” She asked. “Just performing for some QZ on the west coast?” 

“Imagine if they’re infected,” Jess said. “You’re just walking down the street and then bam, attacked by a Backstreet Boy…” 

“This,” Andrew looked up at her. “This is why I love you.” 

Walking to the Speakeasy with everyone reminded you a little of college. It helped that you were wearing a sundress like you’d worn so much in Texas. It helped that the weather was warm and the sky was clear. Mostly, it helped that there were people laughing. You weren’t sure if your memory was just selective but it seemed like people just didn’t laugh anymore. 

There were some tables in the corner of the speakeasy that were open and you pushed them together, sitting down with your back against one of the walls. It just felt better that way. 

“Beer?” Andrew looked to Jess. She nodded and he turned to you. “Beer?” 

“I’m thinking a 1996 left bank Bordeaux, something with some good body to it,” you said, thinking. 

“Yeah, so beer?” He smiled. 

“Yes please,” you smiled back. 

“I only put on two songs,” Marta sat beside you. “So, Andrew, Mr. ‘If it’s not rock and roll it’s not music,’ will only have to suffer for so long.” 

“And if only we could get him to suffer in silence,” Jess mused. 

You laughed and Andrew brought beer and you sat drinking with your friends, forgetting for a minute that it was the end of the world. 

“Doc?” 

You turned to see a slightly familiar face. You frowned for a moment, trying to place him when it clicked. 

“Oh my gosh, Tim?” You asked. He smiled, nodding. “Holy cow, you’re so… adult!” 

He laughed. He was a student from your first year as a teacher in the QZ, finishing high school in 2007. You hadn’t seen him since. 

“Yeah, I’m 21 now,” he smiled proudly. “Doesn’t really matter much now but still, cool to say.” 

Bitter Sweet Symphony started playing and he held out his hand. 

“Wanna dance?” He asked. “I think the statute of limitations of you as my teacher are up.” 

“Fuck it,” you shook your head. “Why not?” 

“Yeah!” Marta whooped. “Getting Doc on the dance floor!” 

You flipped her off and she laughed as you followed behind him. 

Tim, you were happy to know, was doing alright for himself. He had a girlfriend he was crazy about. He was stuck working for FEDRA, of course, but he was doing some engineering work. 

“All because you made me interested in science,” he said, one hand at your waist, the other in yours. “So, thanks for that.” 

“You’d have gotten there eventually without me,” you smiled. “But I’ll take some credit for your success.” 

The song changed to something you didn’t recognize, something fun and upbeat. His face brightened. 

“Mind if I spin you?” He asked. “Always wanted to try that.” 

“I am in the dress for it,” you smiled a little. “Go for it, kid.” 

He clumsily twirled you under his arm until his fingers slipped out of yours and sent you spinning across the dance floor. You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe and he took your hand again just as you saw Joel, watching you from across the bar. 

Your laughter died and your breath caught in your throat. Seeing him was like seeing a ghost. It took you a moment to understand why but then you realized it. Since November, you’d thought of the Joel you knew as though he were dead. He’d died with Sarah, back in September, 2003. He’d never made it to Boston. 

You’d mourned him in a way. You’d put the few clothes he’d left at your place into the floorboards with your stash - those weren’t his, after all - but left the picture of him, Sarah and you on your nightstand. That Joel wasn’t a killer. That Joel hadn’t blamed you for it. You’d taken to charging your old cell phone, reading back through texts with him and with Sarah that were still stored there every night before you fell asleep. There was a voicemail, too, one from a week before you visited the last time. 

“Hey Baby,” he’d said. “Think I fucked up the time difference again, must still be out with Louisa… Anyway, missin’ ya. Call me when you’re home safe. Love you.” 

That Joel was dead and the man he’d become was staring daggers at you. 

“Doc?” Tim said. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Andrew said. 

“Good to see you, Tim,” you managed to turn and smile at him. “Glad to know you’re doing well.” 

“Take care, Doc,” he smiled, leaving you with Andrew. He pulled you into his arms and put his mouth near your ear. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he said quietly, holding you tightly to him so you had no choice but to sway with him. “We’re going to stay out here for this song and we’re going to have a great time. And then we’re going to go back to the table and drink the beers that Jess is getting us right now.” 

“I just…” 

“Nope,” he cut you off. “We’re not doing that, we’re not going to run away because that fucker showed up. We’re going to stay here and we’re going to have fun in spite of his ass. Got it?” 

You just nodded. 

“Good.” 

You weren’t paying attention to the music, the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you drowning out almost everything else, Andrew’s hands on you seeming like the only thing tethering you to the earth. You let him guide you back to the table, a fresh beer sitting in front of your seat. 

“Hey Doc!” Jess said brightly. “So an amnesiac walks into a bar. He goes up to a beautiful blonde and says ‘so… do I come here often?’” 

It took you a second and then you laughed, the spell of Joel’s eyes on you snapping. And life continued on. Until a Texas drawl appeared over your shoulder. 

“Scuse me.” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as you looked behind you, Tommy standing there. “I was really hoping I could get you onto the dance floor.” 

“Me,” you said, incredulous. 

“Well I try to make a habit of getting the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled. “So I’m just hopin’ you’ll cut me a break for old time’s sake.” 

“Look,” Andrew said, but you cut him off. 

“Why not,” you said. He smiled - that fucking Miller man smile - and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet and toward the dance floor. Linger was playing. He put his hands at your waist and your arms went around his neck, swaying in time. 

“So Kid,” he smiled. “How’ve you been?” 

“Good,” you said cautiously. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you. 

“I feel like you’re doubtin’ my good intentions,” he said. 

“If Joel sent you to talk to me, you can tell him to fuck off,” you said. 

“That asshole?” He scoffed. “He about ripped my arm off when I said I was going to ask you to dance, he doesn’t want me doin’ this. You think that’s the only reason I’d come talk to you?” 

“Maybe not the only reason,” you smiled a little. 

“Wasn’t joking about gettin’ the prettiest girl at the bar to give me the time of day,” he smiled back. “Got news for you, any bar you’re in? That’s you. I just have to talk you into it now.” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head a little, smiling anyway. 

“You’re still such a player, aren’t you?” You teased. 

“Nah, just a charmer,” he said. 

“How’ve you been?” You asked. 

“Well as can be expected,” he shrugged. “Roommate’s a dick but…” 

You snorted and he smiled broader. 

“I told him he was a fuckin’ asshole for what he did to you, you know,” he said after a moment, face turning serious. “He was also a fuckin’ dumbass but he’s always been a dumbass. It’s the asshole shit I can’t stand.” 

“Let me know if the message ever sinks in,” you said wryly. 

“That’ll be the day,” he scoffed. 

The song shifted, something soft and slow. He tugged you closer and your cheek leaned into his chest. You danced quietly for a bit.

“I wanted to ask you out, back in the day,” he said eventually, his lips close to your ear. 

“Really?” You glanced up at him, not wanting to move your head. 

“Joel told me you were ‘off limits,’” he laughed a little. “Course I didn’t know that was because he wanted ya but…” 

“Damn,” you joked. “Dibs really put you off, huh?” 

“If I’d known it was just dibs it wouldn’t have,” he replied. 

The song changed to Black Magic Woman and he stepped back from you a bit. 

“Now, see, I might have had some ulterior motives,” he smiled sheepishly. “May have put this on the jukebox in hopes I could get you to dance to it with me…” 

“I don’t know how to dance to this,” you laughed, moving to head back to your seat, hand still in his. He caught you and pulled you back against him. 

“I do,” his hand went to the small of your back, pressing your hips against his. You swallowed. “Just gotta follow my lead, pretty girl.” 

He took the lead, his hips pushing against yours, moving in sharp rhythm. You could feel him through his jeans. His legs nudged yours in the right steps, your breasts flush against him. His eyes traced your face, lingering on your lips. 

The song felt too short, the two of you coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor, bodies still close together. 

“How ‘bout a drink?” He smiled. 

“Sure,” you smiled back. He laced his fingers with yours and led you to the bar, just catching a glimpse of Joel standing up and storming off as you did. 

Tommy joined the table with your coworkers, pulling up a chair close to yours, one hand on the small of your back. Marta asked how you knew each other and immediately latched on to the “we’ve been friends for 11 years” thing to get stories out of him like the time he tried to teach you to grill and you accidentally set the thing on fire and seriously considered pushing it into the pool to put it out. 

“We’re gonna head out,” Andrew said before he leaned in to kiss your cheek goodbye, whispering in your ear as he did. “You OK?” 

You just nodded and he left with Jess. You realized then that they were the last of the party to leave. 

“One more drink,” Tommy smiled. “Just you and me.” 

“Well if you’re going to twist my arm about it,” you smiled back. 

The bar was emptying out, just a few stragglers left on the dance floor. Tommy got you both a whiskey on the rocks, sitting next to you in a booth, putting his arm around your shoulders. You propped your feet on the chair across the table from you and leaned your head on his chest, swirling the whiskey in your chipped glass. The ice clinked. 

“Missed seein’ you,” he said after a minute, taking a drink. “You always just… Made shit better. It’s all brighter with you.” 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled a little, taking a drink. “And I’ve missed seeing you, too.” 

Closing Time came on and Tommy laughed. 

“We can take a hint!” He yelled over your head before finishing his drink. “We’re goin, we’re goin.” 

You laughed, polishing yours off, too, before getting up. You could just barely feel the alcohol in your head, far from drunk and just on the edge of tipsy. 

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.” 

“You know, I walk home on my own late at night most days,” you said, following him out of the bar, anyway. “Always ends up fine.” 

“Humor me,” he smiled, holding out his hand. You smiled back, taking it. He tugged you close to him, setting an easy pace. 

You talked about random things you missed about Austin, laughing when you mentioned your favorite second hand clothing shop downtown near campus. 

“Isn’t that just shopping now?” He teased. 

“Oh you know it’s not the same,” you laughed. “I got this great dress there once from the 70s. I think I only wore it once, to a wedding, but damn did it make my boobs look fantastic. One of life’s great regrets is the fact that it’s rotting away in my closet in New York.” 

“Damn,” he shook his head. “Now one of my great regrets is not seeing that dress…” 

You laughed, stopping at the door to your building. 

“This is me,” you half smiled. 

“How about I walk you up?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows. “I know I know, but how often do you walk home from the clinic with a few drinks in you?”

“I’ve treated you, do you want to know the answer to that question?” You teased. He laughed. 

“Well those times, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty if somethin’ happened to ya,” he said. “Let me walk you up.” 

“If that’s what will help you live the dream, Miller, far be it from me to stop you.” 

You opened the communal door and led the way upstairs, stopping by your apartment. 

“See?” You teased, after unlocking your door but leaving it closed and turning to face him. “So eventful.” 

He leaned his arm against the door frame, caging you in on one side. His eyes dropped to your lips before going back to your eyes. 

“Still think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said quietly, his free hand delicately lifting your chin toward him. 

“Tommy,” you breathed. His hand slipped from your chin to the back of your head, his thumb still along your cheek. 

“Want me to stop?” He asked, moving closer.

You swallowed. 

“No,” you said. 

“Good,” he said. “Neither do I.” 

He kissed you then. Soft, gentle, his lips parting just enough that you could taste the whiskey on his breath. He leaned his body into yours, the hips that had been moving with yours on the dance floor pressing into you a different way now. A familiar ache sparked low in your stomach as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You weren’t sure how long he kissed you, but after a moment, he pulled back, a little breathless. 

“Why don’t we go inside?” He said softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, opening the door behind you. 

Things moved a lot faster then. His hands slid the straps of your dress down your arms before your door was fully closed. He reached to lock it while you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. His lips were on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth, his hands ranging over every inch of skin they could reach before sliding your dress down to pool on the floor. You pulled at the buttons of his shirt until you were able to shove it off and he quickly unclipped your bra. He looked down at your bare chest, panting for breath a little. 

“Damn,” he said. “Don’t regret not seein’ the dress anymore. This is so much fuckin’ better.” 

He stepped out of his boots quickly and you unbutton and unzipped his pants. You kicked off your sandals and he tugged your panties down, leaving them on the floor as you pulled him against you toward your bed. He paused, your legs against the bed, his hands holding you gently. 

“You sure you’re good with this?” He asked. 

“Just kiss me, Miller,” you said. He wasted no time obliging. 

You pulled him onto your bed with you, his weight settling easily between your thighs. He slid a hand down your body to your pussy, softly tracing your clit for a moment before pressing his fingers against you, working you in slow, longing circles. You moaned against his mouth, rocking your hips against his hand. You felt him smile against your lips. 

Tommy slipped a thick finger inside you, exploring you, the tip brushing your inner walls until he found the spot that made your toes curl. He added another finger, working both of them against the place inside you, adding his thumb to your clit until your back arched and you came with a loud moan around him. 

“Fuck, gorgeous,” he pressed his lips to your collar bone. “Gonna need you to do that again while I’m inside you… you’ve got me fuckin’ desperate for it…” 

“Then get inside me,” you panted, reaching between your bodies to take his cock in your hand. He was thick, hard, not so long that you were worried about whether or not he would fit but long enough that you knew he would fill you. You worked him up and down, spreading the wetness from his tip over him. 

“Tryin’ to kill me, I swear,” he said, slipping his fingers from inside you to himself, brushing your hand away. He lined himself up with your entrance, pressed his lips to yours and thrust into you. 

The stretch was immediate, a sharp but pleasant burn as he sank into you. He moaned against your lips and you rocked your hips against him, making his movements stutter. 

“You trying to make me cum before I’m even inside you?” He gasped. “Fucking hell, girl.” 

He thrust the rest of the way inside you in one quick, hard motion, making your back arch, pulling a delicious moan from your lips. His arm slipped below you, pulling your torso flush with his as he began to fuck into you, his thick cock sliding out to just the tip before thrusting back against your back wall with every stroke. You clung to him as his lips found your throat, your breasts, his hard length moving faster, more forcefully every time. The tip of him was hitting the spot inside you with every movement, your second orgasm building fast. 

“Fuck, I’m going to…” you managed. He thrust harder, your sentence ending in a strangled cry. 

“Won’t last when you do,” he gasped. “Where can I…” 

“I’m on the pill,” you said quickly. 

“Thank fuck.” 

He picked up the pace, holding himself deep inside you every few strokes, your body tightening and coiling around him until you felt the taught band of pleasure snap, your core pulsing around him. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck…” he groaned, thrusting two more times before collapsing on top of you, both of you limp and gasping for breath. 

He pressed his lips to your throat, still deep inside you, and you saw the picture frame with Joel and Sarah on your nightstand out of the corner of your eye. While he was distracted, you reached up and silently set it face down before wrapping your arms around the man in your bed. 

A/N: THAT'S RIGHT GUYS SHE'S GETTING WITH BOTH BROTHERS AND JOEL FUCKING HATES IT. This has been building since literally day one of this story lol. Tommy has had a crush on her FOREVER and now it's finally paying off - for him and for us (because we get the drama of it)

I have a taglist, so if you'd like to be included, just comment below! Thank you so so much for reading and following along. I hope you enjoy the drama and the angst! Love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10

[unreliablesnake]

Dirty little secrets (Joel Miller x reader)

Note: This is a little filth I felt like writing. MINORS DNI! / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: afab!reader, fingering, deep throat, age gap (reader is 20, Joel is 35.)

“C’mere, baby,” Joel said as he put a hand on the back of your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss, continuously stepping forward and making you move until your back hit the wall.

Well, maybe you need to give an explanation about why and how you got this close to him at your age. It all started innocently. Your little sibling was friends with Sarah thanks to being on the same soccer team, and you often took them to school in the morning, or dropped them off after practice. Joel was always nice to you, being grateful for your service, but nothing ever indicated that he had hidden intentions when it came to you.

But then there was your sister’s birthday party at your house, just a week before you left for college following your gap year, and Joel seemed sad that you were leaving Austin. “It won't be the same without you,” he said kindly, and for the first time you blushed in his presence.

Then one thing followed another, and you soon found yourself pinned to the bed by him in your childhood bedroom. “Are you sure you want to cross this line?” he asked huskily, his lips moving down from your chin to your neck. You nodded as you buried your fingers into his hair and moaned loudly when he pinched your hardened nipple.

It came naturally despite the age difference. He was older, therefore much more experienced than any of your previous boyfriends, and damn, it felt so good to feel his skillful hands on your body and hearing his praises. So your last days at home were filled with quick encounters at his place when Sarah wasn’t home, or sometimes in the back of his car when you drove somewhere private.

And now that you came back for the holidays, Joel couldn’t care less about whether or not you had a boyfriend. He didn’t ask, you didn’t bring it up, and he took it as a green light when you were finally left alone. You didn’t mind as long as he satisfied you, and sure he was keen to make you feel good and relaxed after a stressful first semester.

His free hand moved under your sweatpants to find your dripping wet folds, expert fingers immediately starting to draw circles on your clit that drew a whiny moan out of you. “I missed these sweet sounds of yours so fucking much. And don’t even get me started on this tight little cunt. Do you have any idea how many times I jerked off thinking about you?” he growled against your lips.

You didn’t know, but at the moment you had a hard time thinking straight thanks to him pushing a finger inside of you, soon followed by another then a third one that he curled just enough to hit the right spots as he kept pumping. “Joel-” you whispered between moans, gripping his shoulder tighter.

“I know, baby, I can feel it. Come on my fingers,” he ordered as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck.

It was too much to handle and you came undone moments after he told you to. In a way it was amazing how he controlled your body by only saying the right words, and this was something you truly missed while you were gone.

You had a few hookups, nothing serious, but none of those boys could compare to Joel. Phone sex was fun and all, but your fingers couldn't give you the same pleasures as his skilled ones. You were an addict, suffering from withdrawal symptoms since the day you left.

He took his time with you on the first night you could spend in each other's company since you returned, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you. He kept edging himself, testing his own limits so he could keep going longer. He wanted to prove to you he was good for you–not like you hadn't already known that.

“I missed you,” you admitted as you were lying next to him, watching as he lay on his back with his eyes closed.

A smile crept on his lips as he turned his head to look at you. “I missed you too. I was damn close to getting in the car and going to meet you a few times,” he told you.

You leaned over to give him a soft kiss, one that he deepened and moved to be on top of you. You could feel he was getting hard again, ready to claim you one more time. As he busied himself with placing kisses across your face and neck, you reached down for his cock to stroke it gently which drew a deep growl out of him.

“I need you to fuck my throat,” you breathed when he moved back to kiss you on the lips. He came to a stop as he looked you in the eye, a hungry look showing on his face. “Please.”

“Fuck, baby, you're killing me. But how could I say no when you ask me this nicely?” he said with a deep laugh before he climbed off of you and got out of bed. “All right, head hanging off the edge of the bed. Come on,” he ordered.

You got into position for him, eagerly waiting for your lover to shove his thick cock into your mouth, fucking you in a way he had never done before. It was a completely different sensation to be so full of him, jaw aching from being forced to take all of him. But it was worth it, you felt like you were in heaven the moment he reached out to play with your clit.

“Dad!�� you suddenly heard from downstairs.

Joel came to a sudden halt, his cock in your mouth to the hilt as he listened to the sound of his daughter. When he heard her call out again, he let out a series of curses as he pulled out. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized as he leaned down to give you a kiss.

You sat up and watched him get dressed hurriedly. “Should I hide in here then?” you asked with a sweet smile.

“Just for a little while. I'll figure out how to sneak you out, don't worry,” he assured you.

With that he left the room, and you spent the next two hours lying in bed–now fully dressed–and waiting for him to come back for you. You didn't mind being kept a secret, this was something you accepted the first time he fucked you. It's not like you were dating. You were two adults having fun, and that was all.

[dat-lil-shark]

Now I wanna know what the scenes would look like in the pixie au where Bulkhead, Miko, Arcee, Jack, Megatron and Starscream got trapped in a cave

How it play out? How will Megatron and Jack talk about it? How does Miko and Bulkhead look in that cave scene SO MUCH QUESTIONS

WOW MY FIRST ASK! NOW THIS IS SPECIAL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS AND SORRY FOR REPLYING SO LATE!

So, I have originally thought about drawing for this idea but I got too many things on my plates lately that that plan is simply not possible. I also don’t know what to draw for it too so I’ve decided the best idea is to answer you straight on! Basically to answer some of them and to sum things up the best way as I can: Megatron was REALLY curious about how the Pixie’s mind works. For the longest time Megatron believes them to be simply mindless and primitive creatures like bugs, and couldn’t care about them less. But when he learned that Optimus seemed to be really fascinated by these creatures and grew protective over them, he gets more curious because he knew a simple bug or a rat isn’t enough to fascinate Optimus to that degree, so he wondered about the charms these creatures had that could make a fascinated child out of Optimus. He had his conversation with Jack because he wanted to see just how smart a Pixie is, how their minds work, and how much Jack knows about Optimus.

The results are more than surprising to Megatron, but not at all unexpected, as Jack made the exact decision Optimus would have, and he was aware of that. This not only showed that Jack have a sense of morality but also is capable of understanding and reading human minds, and this answered a lot of questions Megatron had. Would Megatron show empathy to the pixies from now on? No he would not. But was he very entertained by the results? Absolutely.

As for Bulkhead and Miko, things were way more dire on their side since both of them requires oxygen now and could suffocate. Bulkhead also later ended having both of his arms and two ribs fractured from holding up the boulder. When he had to be bedridden for weeks and had casts on both of his arms for an even longer time (Arcee commented that he looked like a Minecraft villager), and Miko insisted on staying by his side the whole time, to the point she eventually built a little nest on his cast. She felt really guilty for what happened to her giant friend, and also feared that she could be captured by that scary skinny giant (Starscream) if she left his side for too long again. Ratchet tried to pick her off like a mouse a few times cause he’s worried Miko’s present might hinder Bulkhead’s recovery, but Miko would hiss at him, even threatened to bite him, everytime, so he eventually gave up.

Starscream, on the other hand, had to be bedridden even longer cause he not only also got fractured arms and ribs from the boulder as well (Megatron only allowed some Vehicons to come and save him after Starscream was on the brink of death) he totally was also bitten by Miko like a bean bag. I might add that Pixie Miko have some poison like wasps, that’s why her colors are so bright, and she probably also didn’t belonged in the desert, maybe a jungle pixie or something that came here for adventure. So Starscream was totally messed up. Knockout even suggested to amputate one of his arms at one point based on how swollen it was from the poison, and it was only a miracle that SS ended up keeping it.

Yeah. I really LOVE asks like these, cause my Pixie AU is my favourite AU by far! So PLEASE ANON ask anything you like about this AU! The only thing I will NOT answer about this AU is anything scraplets related cause…. You know… AHEM let’s pretend the scraplets do not exist all together in this AU shall we?

[mirrortouchedsea]

(CW for Suicidal Ideation)

Hinata’s breath was heavy as he landed the final move of their act. The tinny music playing from their speakers went quiet and the audience clapped politely. It was always the same song and dance as the crowd moved on with their day. A few of them tossed some yen their way but otherwise it was time for them to regroup for their next performance. Yuta knelt down by the hat with some coins and bills sticking out of it, counting their earnings thus far. 

“Hey aniki! We might be able to eat well tonight! There’s like 3,000 yen in here!” Yuta exclaimed. The idea of a filling dinner made Hinata’s mouth water. Oh what he wouldn’t do for even warm noodles not from a cup. 

Hinata turned to grab the iPod from its place on the speaker, choosing the next song to play. He put the phone back and turned the volume up a little more to play over the evening rush. The music started and he and Yuta moved in unison around their little stage, taking in the crowd. There were some regulars that Hinata recognized, the businesswoman who was perpetually tired but always stopped for their performances and a few kids who looked up at them in awe as their parents were trying to usher them away. There were always new faces too, of course people traveled across the country all the time or took new trains or moved cities, but there was something different about the boy with the bright red hair at the back of the crowd. His sky blue eyes pierced straight through to Hinata’s heart and made him stumble when their gaze connected with his own. 

“Hey, aniki focus! We’re almost done, don't fail on me now!” Yuta whispered, carefully shielding Hinata from the crowd as he regained his footing. Yuta was always so quick thinking. Hinata got back to his position and finished up the routine, eyes looking for that boy he had spotted earlier. He half hoped the boy would come talk to them afterwards while they were packing up for the evening, but when he finally saw that shock of red hair, it was moving away with the rest of the crowd. 

Hinata sighed, disappointed. Maybe that boy would come back someday. There was something about him that drew Hinata in. 

Someone bumped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. “Hey, aniki, are you alright? You seem out of it today.” Yuta’s hand rested on his shoulder and Hinata couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the older brother checking in on the younger one? 

“Hey hey everything’s fine Yuta-kun, don’t worry about me. I was just thinking about that delicious dinner you’re treating us too~” He playfully pushed back on Yuta, the red haired blue eyed boy all but forgotten now. 

“Hey! It’s technically our money so I’m not treating you to anything!” Yuta scowled but the smile in his voice was obvious to Hinata. 

“Hehe, then dinner’s on me! Say ‘thank you aniki!’” 

--- 

It was a week before Hinata saw the red headed boy in their audience again. He had all but slipped his mind, but those striking blue eyes were impossible to forget. Yuta was introducing their next performance which allowed Hinata to take a better look at the older boy who had made his way to the middle of the audience. He was tall and what Hinata could see of his outfit seemed ill-fitting at best, along with a headband holding his hair away from his eyes. 

Hinata scrambled to his position as the music queued up and let his instincts take over. Every so often he found himself glancing at the red haired boy, trying to see what he thought of their performance, but his face revealed nothing. 

Why was he so focused on this one boy? It’s not like they didn’t have strangers who watched them sometimes, and none of them had caught Hinata’s attention quite like this boy. He really couldn’t be much older than Hinata, maybe 17 at the oldest. Was he an older brother too? The boy’s eyes made contact with Hinata’s and it took everything in him to not look away. 

Once again however, Yuta snapped him out of whatever trance he had been in and everything was forgotten. 

“Are you really okay aniki? You’ve been out of it a lot recently…” Oh how it pained Hinata to see the concern on Yuta’s face. Nothing was even really wrong per se, but Hinata was distracted nonetheless. 

“I’m fine, Yuta-kun. Geez, can’t your older brother have some peace?” His mouth ran faster than his brain and he immediately regretted it. Yuta’s face flipped through several emotions; hurt, confusion, exhaustion. It wasn’t like him to hide things from his brother, so why was he doing it now? “Whatever, let’s get some dinner. My treat~” 

“It’s our money!” 

--- 

The boy continued to make appearances at the twins’ performances on the street, becoming something of a regular but disappearing before Hinata could flag him down. Hinata wasn’t even sure what compelled him to want to talk to the older boy, but he wanted to say something. He had even noticed that the boy seemed happier and his clothes fit a little better, not like they were just the first thing he grabbed out of a donation pile. 

Finally, after almost a month of trying to say something to the boy, Hinata saw him walk up to their hat on the ground and drop a few coins into it. 

“Thank you!” He said, walking up to the boy. “Hope you enjoyed the performance!” 

The boy froze as if he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like that. There was a slight flush to his face. “I-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You uh…you were great?” The boy seemed unsure of how to reply, though Hinata was happy with the compliment nonetheless. Maybe… 

“What brings you here? I mean--agh, sorry! I just mean…I noticed you don’t have a regular schedule?” The words were practically falling out of his mouth and Hinata wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Like you show up a few days in a row but then go three weeks without stopping by at all!” He was just digging a bigger grave for himself! Great! 

“Ah uhm…I’m not from around here.” The boy scratched at the back of his neck. Maybe Hinata should back off. 

“O-oh, yeah of course. Duh. Are you visiting family or something?” 

“Not quite. I really should get going though. See you…later?” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

“Hey Aniki, are you coming or not? The food’s gonna get cold!” 

“Coming!” 

---

It was almost a month before the boy appeared again. In the time between, Hinata had come up with a million different ideas for what his life was like. Was he a delinquent who skipped school to hang out on the street with gangs (how scary! But he looked strong enough to fit in)? Or was he a runaway from a city far away, somewhere Hinata only dreamed of visiting like Okinawa? Maybe he had a bad relationship with his dad and ran away, a thought that Hinata hated to admit had crossed his mind more than once. Or maybe he just passed through the city on the way to somewhere else. That seemed to be the most likely option, especially if he couldn’t come very often. 

When the boy did finally show up again, Hinata had to hold himself back from practically jumping him after the performance. Something looked…different about him though. His eyes seemed more tired? Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Hinata thought of a fight he had with his dad a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to sleep and thought maybe this boy was the same as him in that regard. 

Hinata decided to wave him down after the performance, hat in hand (they had done pretty well! It felt heavier than normal and even without counting everything, they’d probably have enough for breakfast too). 

“Hey! You look tired, are you--did you want to get something to eat?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes--

The boy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Did Hinata mess up? Oh he overstepped and now there really wasn’t any chance of getting to know him. Why was he so interested in talking to the boy anyway? Hinata had been asking himself that for a while now and he still had no answer. 

“I…I can’t. I need to go.” The boy turned and ran off before Hinata could ask more. He just kept messing up, didn’t he? Maybe he really was just a burden to Yuta and their dad and the restaurant owner. He shouldn’t have been born and Yuta would’ve been better off--

“Aniki! Sheesh, get your head out of the clouds. How much did we make?” Yuta grabbed the hat out of Hinata’s hand and quickly counted out the coins and bills. “Woah! We could eat a whole five course meal with this…” 

“Think with your head a little Yuta-kun. We’ve got breakfast paid for if we don’t blow it all tonight!” 

Yuta nodded before handing the hat back to Hinata. “So, my pick tonight?” 

--- 

Hinata signed the note, trying his best to keep the tears from dripping on it and smudging the ink. After his blunder with the red haired boy, he hadn’t shown up to their performances for over two months. Hinata was certain that he had messed up and was too forward. He didn’t even know the kid’s name! Why did he think the two of them could ever be friends? 

And on top of all of that, Yuta had become more and more distant from Hinata, as if Hinata just existing was dragging him back from his full potential. Yuta would have been better off as an only child and maybe Hinata deserved this life. Thirteen years living with their father, who had treated them as nothing but monsters, blaming them for their mother’s death and everything bad that had happened since, Hinata had resolved to run away. He’d make his way to the mountains and maybe he’d find someone willing to help him or maybe he’d slip into an endless sleep. 

Dear Yuta-kun, the letter had started. I’m sorry that I’m leaving like this, but I know that I’m just a burden to you. I’m sorry for that. I wish I had more to say but I just want you to be happy and maybe father will treat you better without me. I love you. 

The other letter, already folded and placed on the table, was much shorter, addressed to his father. 

Dear Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son. Please don’t take this out on Yuta-kun, it was my decision. 

The less words he spent on that man, the better. Hinata folded Yuta’s note and placed it on top before quietly exiting through the front door. 

---

Everything was cold. Hinata slumped against a tree, head between his knees in a last ditch effort to keep warm. Sleep should come soon and he could painlessly move on, at least that’s what he hoped. He barely registered someone approaching him, but didn’t look up. 

“Hey.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but where did he remember it from? A warm hand shook at Hinata’s shoulder. 

“‘M fine.” The words were barely a whisper. The other voice grunted before walking away. It was another minute before Hinata felt something drape around his shoulders and a cup shoved in his hand. Whatever was in it was steaming, warming his fingers. 

“Drink.” The voice said. And he did, the tea was very, very bitter. That voice… 

Hinata looked up, meeting a pair of bright, sky blue eyes. That’s where he recognized the voice from. Did he…live? In the mountains? The boy seemed to recognize him too. He was wearing a headband and what looked like very warm clothes that Hinata wished he had. Hinata finished the tea, trying not to focus on the flavor. It helped at least, in warming him up a bit. 

“Why are you here?” The boy finally spoke again. It sounded like he was unsure if he should be mad or concerned, or both, but he offered Hinata another cup of tea, which he accepted if only to warm his fingers up. He pulled the blanket closer around his body. 

“I…ran away.” Hinata looked downward, as if admitting this out loud was a cardinal sin. The boy gestured for him to continue. “I guess I just…I was dragging my brother down. I’m not really talented at anything like he is and I’m the reason our dad sees us as monsters. He shouldn’t have to deal with a brother like me.” Hinata wasn’t really sure why he was spilling this so easily. The boy was a good listener though, hanging on every word Hinata spoke. Was he shaking? He’d never admitted this out loud before and it felt oddly freeing to say it to someone. 

He waited for a response, anything to chase away the uncomfortable silence Hinata had created with his confession. He really fucked up, didn’t he. He should have just kept that to himself like he always did instead of burdening a stranger like this! 

“I…” The boy started, barely audible above Hinata’s racing heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He sounded unsure of his words. Was he just trying to be nice? Of course he was, how else do you respond to a kid telling you something like this? 

“You don’t have to pretend.” 

“I’m not. When I saw you singing and dancing…I think I realized something--” The boy cut himself off, the suddenness of it making Hinata look up. A moment later he heard his brother calling out from the woods behind him. 

“Aniki! There you are!” Yuta tackled him to the ground, squeezing Hinata like he might just blow away in the wind if they weren’t careful. “You scared me! I can’t believe you’d do something like that!” 

Tears pricked at Hinata’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, Yuta-kun. I’m really sorry.” He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket. His nose started to run, from the cold or the tears he couldn’t tell. 

“You aren’t a burden to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you around Aniki!” Yuta pulled back, hands gripping Hinata’s shoulders. “Promise you won’t do something that stupid again.” 

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, sparing a glance where the boy had been. It was as if he had never been there at all and Hinata had just hallucinated the whole interaction. He looked back at his twin brother. “I promise.” 

“Now let's get you home and warmed up. Where’d you get this blanket anyway? It doesn’t look like one of ours.” 

“I…” The boy had been real, and he told Hinata he was glad he was alive (even if his explanation was cut short by Hinata’s brother rushing in). “I guess I just found it. There must be people living nearby or something.” 

--- 

The chatter of the night club died down for the night as everyone was getting ready to go home. Hinata’s feet were sore from running around, but it was satisfying to be back in a restaurant like this. It reminded him of his childhood working for the Chinese restaurant with Yuta. 

Rinne, the leader of Crazy:B who had wanted to get closer to Hinata, and by extension 2wink, slid a drink down the bar. It looked like a horrible mix of syrups and club soda, but one sip was all it took for Hinata to drink it all down. 

“Great job tonight Hina! You’re a real natural at this stuff.” Rinne was washing the other glasses behind the bar now as Hinata finished the rest of his soda. 

“Yuta-kun and I used to work in a restaurant so it comes pretty naturally to us!” 

“That so?” 

“Mhm!” Hinata slid the empty glass back to Rinne, who quickly dumped the ice and washed it before tossing the towel over his shoulder. The entire week they’d been working the club together, there had been something bugging Hinata at the back of his mind. “Hey, Rinne-senpai…did you ever watch our shows?” 

“Huh? ‘Course I have, vice prez wants us to work together so I’ve seen a few of ‘em.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I mean like…back when Yuta-kun and I did street performances.” 

Rinne paused for a moment. “Why’re you askin’?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just reminded me of someone who used to watch them.” 

“Well I’m sure whoever it was is proud to see you singin’ and dancin’ on stage.” Rinne had come around the bar and stood next to Hinata, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get goin’ or I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Niki-kun.” 

[blackbutler-mylove]

Hello! I love seeing the Black Butler fandom come back from the grave and I feel like it will stay alive for a while until 2024. Unlike the time Queen Elizabeth died and brought it back to life for a few weeks.

Anyways, I have a Ciel x reader. Basically it’s Ciel with a reader that’s gets called “Lady of the Night” because of her dark and mysterious appearance that represents the night. She talks like she’s a character from Edger Allen Poe’s poems and looks like she came straight out of a Tim Burton film. It can be hc of Ciel before he made the reader his s/o and after. Or it can be a oneshot. It’s up to you!

Thank you and have a good day!

Thank you so much!

This headcanon takes place before the « big reveal » ;)

Ciel his still his canon age and reader is 14! (So a one year gap)

°Ciel met you during a very boring reception between the heads of some of most important brands in England. Tea, silks, furniture, land, cattle and well, his toy company.

°Small talk is something ciel is very good at, but absolutely despises. That’s why after his usual tactical greetings, he decided to just sit by a table with a small glass of champagne, Sebastian standing by his side.

°The only thing slightly amusing to do was to watch the other nobles go about their empty conversations.

°That’s where your father comes in. He’s been widowed for seven years, and was at the head of a very important jewelry and ornaments company. Ciel knew that he decided very early on to include the input of his young daughter in his commercial decisions, but the daughter in question was rarely seen.

°Ciel never met you, despite his numerous interactions with your father. Well, until tonight.

°He saw you walking at your father’s side, wearing a very deep and dark plum colored dress. Wearing an array of silver jewelry from your family’s company and striking eye makeup, that made your eyelids look like they were adorned with lace. An odd way for a lady to present herself…

°Ciel got up from his seat and got closer to the small circle that formed around you two, made by very intrigued nobles looking to poke and prod at you with their questions.

°As he greeted your father for the first time this evening, he noticed you were completely unbothered by the indiscreet questions thrown your way, answering with as much bluntness and a whimsy tone.

° « Pray tell my dear, have you found yourself a betrothed yet? »    « It is not one of my priorities. »

°Here’s something he always dreamed of saying… He went to greet you and kissed your hand, but before he could say anything you perked up: « You have the most beautiful eye, my lord. »

°Sebastian chuckled under his breath as he saw his lord lose his composure.

°For the rest of the evening, you and Ciel sat down as you talked, and you even showed him the small sketchbook you carried around to draw down your ideas for new jewelry. 

°You even started to draw a small portrait of him with a certain crow perched on his shoulder, which he didn’t even notice as he was hanging on each word you said. When he asked about the bird, you replied that « Sebastian made me think of one, it is a simple artistic liberty. Crows are very intelligent animals. »

°When you had to return home, you gifted him the portrait. « We will need to meet again soon, lord Phantomhive. You are truly an inspiration. » You said with a shier tone.

°He was blushing each time he thought of you on his ride back to the manor, and he would be caught dead before anyone knew he smiled while he was in bed that night. Much to Sebastian’s amusement.

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

I wrote about how they met! I can image that they kept meeting up after that, and the "lady of the night" might have gotten herself into a lot of the phantomhive's shenanigans!

[munsons-maiden]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧

My apology for postponing Chapter 11 of Worlds Apart for a few days 😅  I hope you enjoy it! - Love, Kiki 🖤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader (established relationship)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Eddie has some new ideas to try in bed 

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | face-sitting. That’s it. Porn without plot

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.2 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU’RE 18+ YEARS OLD!), face sitting/oral (f receiving)

@starsovervelaris Heather my dear, you sent in an ask a few weeks ago about face-sitting with Eddie and it inspired me for this, so: Heather, this is for you 😂🖤

As always, likes and especially comments and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged 🖤

The moan tumbling from your lips to fill the tranquility of Eddie’s bedroom fuses into a frustrated whine at the loss of stimulation as Eddie pulls away from you, the climax already building with burning intensity receding to a faint throbbing need as your hips roll up against nothing to chase the sensation of Eddie’s hot tongue against your soaked pussy.

“What –“, you breathe, lifting your head to meet Eddie’s gaze.

Your walls clench at the sight of him, impishly grinning up at you from between your legs, the rings on his fingers glittering in the spars light where his hands are locked around your thighs to keep them spread for him. The glitter in his umber eyes holds a mix of mischief and adoration that makes you feel like frizzing champagne injected straight into your veins – and you feel like you could pass out any moment when Eddie lewdly licks his lips, gathering your glistening arousal coating them.

“Why did you stop?”, you whine, and Eddie’s chuckle shoots straight to your core with toe-curling intensity as he starts trailing kisses up your belly, up your chest, his soft curls tickling your skin as you arch your back, hips rutting lazily to chase the stimulation that’s no longer there.

“Patience, princess,” Eddie croons, hot breath sending pleasant chills down your spine as his trail of kisses reaches the column of your throat, the sensation of his hot tongue drawing a slow, teasing circle over the sensitive skin above your hammering pulse, right below your ear.

“I’m not patient,” you growl softly, hands flying up to tangle in the mess of dark curls at the back of his head just as Eddie’s lips meet yours in a sloppy, feverish kiss that makes him groan with need and makes the ravenous need for him in your throbbing core flare anew with the taste of your own arousal still coating his lips from what he’s been doing only moments ago.

You languidly roll your hips to meet his, the contact of your soaked folds pressing against the tip of his cock drawing another sweet, sinful moan from Eddie’s lips – but a surprised little squeal ripples from you as, with a motion so swift you didn’t see it coming, Eddie flips you both around, making you straddling his waist as he grins up at you.

In the dim glow of the lamp on his nightstand, his eyes have turned into pools of darkness, arousal dilating his pupils to eclipse the umber shade of his irises as he grins up at you.

“I want you to sit on my face.”

You blink in surprise. You’d anticipated…you didn’t know what you’d anticipated, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“You – I can’t do that.”

“Can’t because you don’t want to, or…?” Eddie smiled, his gaze soft.

“I’m…what if I smother you?”

He chuckled. “A metal way to go but I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure you won’t, sweetheart,” he crooned softly.

“Ninety-nine? What about the missing one percent?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “That’s the residual risk of immediate cardiac arrest because my girlfriend is so goddamn hot.”

You giggled. And just like that, he’d dissolved your anxiety, flipped it off like a light switch as, the soft grin still on his lips, in his eyes, he mused, “So, it’s basically nothing new. Only that you get to be the one in control. And I love it when you take control, sweetheart. But,” his face grew serious, “Only if you wanna try it. No pressure, ‘kay?”

You bite your lip.

You were…aching for him. Dripping. And you felt like you’d go crazy with need for him if you didn’t act on him now.

Plus, it sounded hot.

Your nod is all he’s needed, and Eddie’s smile widens as he glances up at you, his hands settling on the outsides of your thighs to guide you closer, pulling you down onto his mouth to place a gentle kiss on your throbbing clit.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, words fusing into a drawn-out, wanton moan as Eddie’s tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your own arousal, lapping up your juices as your hips languidly roll against his mouth on their own volition, and the wave of pleasure bursting through you makes your hand shoot out to splay on the wall for purchase as the other finds its way into Eddie’s soft curls.

The sensation of your fingers raking through his dark strands draws a sinful little groan from him – the sound like the smoothest black silk on your senses, as it vibrates through your body alongside the pleasure he’s building in your core, the flicks of his hot tongue growing sloppy with every grind of your hips against his mouth.

“Oh god, this is amazing,” you moan, throwing your head back as your eyes flutter shut and Eddie works his magic with his tongue, his lips, circling your clit and working you into blissful delirium with every movement of his mouth, grinding your soaked pussy down him, the last of your worries chased away at the moan he utters, another shockwave of heat through your throbbing core to stoke the fire building there.

You still hold back, still a little scared to somehow hurt him – and Eddie, attentive as always, seems to notice.

Because his hands grab your hips, fingertips softly digging into your skin and the smooth surface of his rings forming a beautiful contrast to the callouses on his hands, rough from paying his guitar, as he steers you closer still to his lips, guiding the languid roll of your hips, the tip of his nose brushing your clit to make your grip in his hair tighten for purchase.

Your eyes are squeezed shut with pleasure – but your can feel Eddie’s umber gaze on you, burning with adoration and darkened with desire, imagine the blackness of his dilated pupils nearly swallowing the dark brown rings of his irises.

It’s enough to send you over the edge.

The orgasm washing over you knocks the rest of strength from your muscles, Eddie’s grip on your hips tightening further to support you, guide your faltering movements as you keep rutting against his lips, his tongue, to chase that wave of bliss he’s sending through you, lapping up your arousal as his lewd moan laces with your outcry of his name that fills the air of his bedroom.

When you pull away, the gleam in Eddie’s eyes renders your breathless, “You okay?”, utterly unnecessary.

“Fuck, that was hot,” he grins with a breathless whisper of his own, hands roaming up your sides as he grins up at you – and he’s a sight to behold, himself.

The curls of his bangs are plastered against his forehead with sweat, his eyes wide and gleaming and dark with want, his lips – hell, the whole half of his lovely face, glistening with your arousal.

And the cheeky grin he gives you before his tongue darts out to lick some of the slick from his lips could have sent you over the edge again.

“Was that good, sweetheart?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Yeah, I wanna hear that I was right,” he snickered, his voice having taken on this beautiful dark rasp it held whenever he was aroused. “Wanna have a second round, sweetheart? My treat.”

You grin, shuffling a little to bend down and capture his lips in a kiss, tasting yourself.

“Your turn now, first,” you breathe into the kiss, feeling his smile against your lips.

[urfavnegronerd]

stars in the sky- phora + jhene aiko

trope: fluff, s/o mick for the idea in my ask box smooches 

sum slight 

warnings: grammarly hates me, reader has trouble sleeping bc i said so (i’ve had so much trouble falling asleep idk why), no use of pronouns but use of mama, ma, n mami, idk how much i like it but im outa slump so yay, lmk if i missed anything

published: august 15, 2023

song lyrics are italicized   

w/c: 1.3k ish

reader is black-coded like always 

stay in the state of the greatest bliss 

Miles’ room was dark. Well, dark-ish. He tried though, pulling the curtains all the way shut, turning off the light in his room and the hallway, but the afternoon sun still gently weaved its way through the fibers of his curtains. 

“What’s the point of this, Miles?” 

“To get you to try and sleep,” 

“It's four in the afternoon,” 

“Naptime,” 

“What?” 

“Just try, mama, okay?”  

You’d never been a good sleeper and usually stayed awake while Miles fell asleep in your arms, that was how it usually went. Even more so when he came to your window late at night after his Prowler duties, those visits mainly consisted of cleaning any wounds or scratches, on occasion giving him stitches, helping him change, and kissing the top of his head when he inevitably dozed off on your chest. You were usually up then anyway, it was a fun addition to your nighttime routine. Miles had only begun to worry about your sleeping patterns when you fell asleep at 9 am while you were over his, watching a telenovela with Mrs. Morales. Gently nudging you awake after the telenovela marathon at about 1 that afternoon, he fell into the pattern of observing your moods. Most of which during the day consisted of you constantly being tired, and yawning, but somehow always getting school work done that assisted in your straight A’s. At first, he assumed that it was just you putting too much pressure on yourself to perform, but when he realized these patterns continued well into school breaks, he started to worry. 

He had started to realize that every time he came to your window after his Prowler work, you were up anyway, reading, writing, drawing, or pretty much any activity you could get your hands on. Again, at first, he thought this was endearing, and went as far as getting puzzles for you after he had interrupted the puzzle on the floor when he gently knocked on your window. And so a much-needed conversation ensued the morning after.

“Ma, I’m worried about you,”  

“For why Miles?” You turn your attention away from the mirror where you’re laying your baby hair down. 

“Ian never seen you sleep,” 

“So?” 

“Do you sleep?” 

“Yeah, I just have some trouble with it is all,” 

“I don’t make you sleepy?” 

“You make me feel safe, comfortable, relaxed, and loved, but no Miles, you don’t make me sleepy,” 

He huffed, falling back onto your duvet. 

“What's wrong papá?” 

“I’m worried about you,” 

“Sueñito, you don’t need to be worried about me,” 

“You fall asleep when most people would be awake starting their days, almost always during the first and second period, mama, that's not normal,” 

“Maybe I’m just sleepy in general,” You were beginning to get defensive then, why did he care if you were tired usually? 

He sighed then, rubbing his eyes and urging himself out of your bed. He didn’t want to fight with you, he never wanted to fight with you, so he had just decided to leave it alone then. However, the very same conversation was repeated about two weeks later. The two of you were walking home, as school had gotten out early that day, and you had slowly begun to slump onto Miles’ shoulder, yawning and rubbing your eyes. 

“Ma?” There was a twinge of concern in his voice, it was barely even noon, is it normal to be this tired? “You okay?”  

“‘m just tired,” You yawn, still clawing at your eyes. 

“It’s 11:45,” 

“So?” 

“Mama,” he knew you were just being stubborn, but he also knew you didn’t want to admit that you had a problem sleeping. You didn’t like to ask for help, you tried to get things right on your own, and you usually did. “Be honest.” 

“Fine,” you forced out, shame tugging at your cheeks, and Miles knew exactly what you meant by that

“Thank you,”  

And so, the two of you were here, in this moment. 

“Please? Just try for me,” 

You huff plopping onto his mattress. 

“Now what?” 

“We wait,” 

“Oh, joy,”

whenever i’m in your atmosphere  

The two of you had been lying, in the dark, for about an hour and a half. Naturally, the sun was slowly beginning to set, hence dimming the light in his room. 

At this point, you were fighting sleep. It’s not like you didn’t feel exhausted all the fucking time, it’s that you had this mental block in your head. It’s like when you’re so tired but you can’t manage to fall asleep, like someone is forcing your eyes open. It’s hell, and it frustrates you, makes you want to scream and cry and essentially just throw a tantrum. Not that you’d ever admit it, but you feel so powerless, so out of control. A sigh mixed with anger, frustration, and disappointment breezes through your lips as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes. 

“Uh uh ma, don’t do that,” he whispers, gently pushing your hands away from your eyes. “What’s wrong?” 

“This isn’t working,” you whine. “I turn seventeen in a year and I can’t even sleep right,” 

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that serious,” 

“I’m so tired, Miles,” you mumble, tears poking at your eyes. 

“Amor, I know it’s frustrating, okay? I know how much you love to be in control and I get that, but this is so bad for you,” 

“I know,” 

“So can we try? Just one more time?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Do you want like, some kind of noise?” 

“Can you just talk?” 

“Yeah. I can do that,” 

And he does. He talks about anything and everything, all while staring at you, your body pressed against him, your face angled upwards at him. Your full lips slightly parted in a little ‘o’ as your big brown eyes ogle up at him. To a lot of people, everything he’s saying would seem pretty mundane, but the way his voice soothes you is something different. His voice is calm, cool, and collected, his nuyo accent ever so prominent. 

You’re not sure just how much time passes until you slowly begin to get groggy, your eyes heavy. Miles, obviously, takes notice and brings his voice down to a whisper. 

“Dad woulda been so happy I met you, ma,” 

Your movements are thick as syrup, you nod, trying to open your eyes more so he knows that he has your full attention. 

“No no no, don’t do that,” he whispers, running a hand over your eyes, forcing them to droop lazily once again. 

“Jus wan’ you to know ‘m listening” you slur, languidly clutching his wrist. The point of this action? You didn’t know, but you held onto him anyway. 

“You’re always listening, Ian gotta worry bout that.” He mumbles, softly stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His hands are calloused and rough, but they’re always soft and gentle, making sure to love every curve of you. As your eyes begin to wilt close, he delicately traces your cupid bow, in response to which your lightly freckle-kissed nose scrunches, your brows tightly knitting themselves together. With a quiet laugh, he gently runs his fingers over your eyebrows, desperately trying to relax your face, to which you hum tiredly in response. 

“Kiss?” 

“Mmmm,” you groan, fatigue finally catching up to you, in affirmation. Taking the hint, he kisses you- your cheeks, chin, jaw, everywhere– peppering light butterfly kisses all over your face. Gently, you sigh and fully close your eyes, your head relaxing into the pillow. Smiling, he brushes gentle kisses onto both of your eyelids and then your nose. Cradling your head into his chest he kisses the bonnet covering your hair, inhaling the scent of hair product and oil, the scent of you, something he adored in a way that words couldn’t describe. 

“Sleep, princesa.”

i’m so glad that i got you, you’re my dream come true <3

a/n: everyone say thank u mick @lunarfleur

taglist: @hiimayee @masaidabest @lunarfleur @zo3ez @miguellover6969 @heyimveejoyner@yahoo.com (idk if this person is on tumblr or not but hey!) @nagi3seastorm @kombuuuu

reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

p.s. taglist form in my masterlist as well as my spam lmao

[welcometololaland]

WIP WORKING WEEK DAY 5: NOT NOW BUT SOON AKA. 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU AU (going to have to re-do this banner because i changed the fic name oops) The last day of WIP working week - thanks for supporting my little snippets! It's been a fun challenge! I'm doubling this up as my WIP Wednesday, so thank you to @catanisspicy @alrightbuckaroo @heartstringsduet @lemonlyman-dotcom @cha-melodius and @three-drink-amy for the tags!

TK stakes out in front of Carlos’ dorm building for almost two days straight, to no avail. At one point he does a stint of five, incredibly boring hours until his phone dies. People keep giving him weird looks, but he remains unperturbed until his stomach is rumbling so loudly it can’t be ignored and he has nothing better to do than watch two pigeons scuttle about on the concrete in what he assumes is a weird mating dance. 

Vaguely, he wonders whether he’s doing a similar thing. Nothing he’s doing right now makes much sense, and yet he’s desperate to make it up to Carlos in a way he can’t quite rationalise. As he watches one pigeon persistently try to escape the attentions of the other, he can’t help but draw some parallels.

On Friday, TK is surprised to see Carlos in his Roman Political Thought seminar. Not in the least because he’s half convinced that Carlos hasn’t been outside of his room or eaten for two days.

“Where have you been?” TK asks, leaning over the two-person table Carlos has opted for. The blond guy in a Ralph Lauren polo shirt sitting next to him gives TK a weird look, which TK pointedly ignores. 

“Why is that any of your business?” Carlos counters coolly. 

“I’ve been trying to find you,” TK hisses, wishing he could stop time as the professor clears his throat pointedly.

Carlos arches an eyebrow in TK's direction. “You seemed too busy to talk last time,” he points out. “Didn’t feel like a priority.”

“It’s not like—”

“Please take your seats,” the professor interjects in a stern voice, and when TK turns around he’s met with a very stony expression. He tries to look appropriately apologetic as he shuffles off towards a nearby desk. The existing occupant – a girl with a dark braid – sighs pointedly as he sits down.

“Good morning to you too,” he mutters under his breath. She scowls at him and flips her braid over her shoulder.

The seminar proceeds as usual, albeit seeming to pass with agonising slowness, and one hour into the session the professor lets them take a five minute break. TK looks up to see if Carlos is interested in continuing their terse conversation, but he walks quickly from the room before TK can really get a handle on the situation. He half-rises out of his seat to follow, before the girl next to him groans.

“Dude,” she interjects, drawing his attention. “Take a hint. He’s not interested.”

TK grits his teeth and looks at her sharply. “He’s my friend,” he argues. “I just did something to piss him off.”

“Then let him cool down,” she says insistently. “It’s never a good idea to try and corner someone when they’re in that kind of mood. You’ll only make them more likely to lash out.”

There’s something in her voice – a blunt kind of honesty – that gives TK pause for thought. He sits back down in the chair and turns to her, watching as her fingers fly over the keyboard of her laptop. 

“I’m TK,” he blurts out, unsure why he feels indebted to this stranger. He watches as her fingers pause for a moment, then fall onto the edge of the computer as she sighs.

“Nancy,” she replies wryly, giving him a once over. “I recognise you from my biology classes. Don’t ask me to be your partner in any group assignments, just because you know my name.”

I'll leave an open tag for anyone who would like to participate, and maybe add @goodways @ramblingdisaster73 @detective-giggles @rosedavid @jesuisici33 @orchidscript @ambiguouspenny @freneticfloetry @basilsunrise and @beautifulhigh assuming you haven't already done it :)

[santacarlatourism]

hi i liked the way you write, could you do something about the first kiss between reader and kevin katchadourian? i hate loving this boy

You had no way of knowing what this would spawn lmao, but I ended up running with this idea of doing a little ficlet/scenario series drawing inspo from Taylor Swift song lyrics about kissing.

So, here is the first one!

I feel like this is a goes without saying sort of thing if you're reading fucking kevin x reader fic but warning for toxic relationships & manipulation

screaming and fighting and kissing

Pairing: Kevin Khatchadourian x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

[…]Screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain It's 2AM and I'm cursing your name I'm so in love that I acted insane And that's the way I loved you Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much

You know that Kevin is bad news. He practically had it plastered across his body. It was present in every step he took, every sentence he spoke, every time you caught his eye and he looked at you like he could see straight through your flesh and into something much more grotesque. You had noticed it all the way back at your middle school dance, when he told that one classmate of yours– what even was her name? You can’t remember– something so awful that she ran off the dance floor and you didn’t see her at school until two weeks later.

You’d never figured out what Kevin said for sure. But you didn’t have to in order to get the point, to learn the lesson: stay away from Kevin Khatchadourian. Or so you had thought. Because against all better judgment, you had started hanging out with Kevin. At first it was going along with him and that little goon of his, Lenny. From the start, you could tell that Kevin also didn’t think much of the guy. You like to think that you’ve been a bit more subtle in your dislike than Kevin has been, though, so why the two continue to hang out is a mystery to you.

But then you began to hang out with Kevin alone. Ostensibly, him inviting you to hang out one-on-one should mean that he likes you and enjoys your company. The thing was, however, you haven’t been able to tell if he actually does. For one thing, Lenny was an example that for whatever reason, Kevin would hangout with people he didn’t even like. For another, as you learned, Kevin can be incredibly inconsistent. Sometimes when you arrived at his house, he wouldn’t even be home like he said he would be. If he bothered to actually let you know when he was canceling plans rather than simply standing you up, the text or phone call always arrived last minute. Sometimes they even came in when you were already en route to your destination.

So, why had you put up with it till now? The very simple answer, you regretted to admit, was that at some point along the way you had caught feelings.

You aren’t sure exactly when those feelings began developing. But you remember the first time he was talking to you and you felt yourself get lost in those big brown eyes, and once he realized you had zoned out and weren’t listening to what he was saying Kevin had rolled them and turned back to his computer.

And you remember the first time that his inconsiderate behavior had actually caused you to cry in your car. It was two in the morning and you’d made plans to drive out for a late night meet up at Waffle House, only for him to text you that he wasn’t coming. It’s something you’ve never told him about and never plan to. You just sent a “k” back and, once you composed yourself, drove back home and went to bed. You remember one time when he grabbed you by the shoulder to move you out of the way, and even though it was a brief touch, you felt your face heat up.

And all though perhaps you became a little bit of a pushover as a result of your crush, you did have your limits, as Kevin was now finding out. This time when you came over, he was home. You had resolved on your drive over that if he was there he would be getting an earful.

“Kevin, we need to talk,” You say, the moment you shut his bedroom door behind you.

“Do we?” He asks, not bothering to turn his head from his computer to look at you.

“Yes,” You reply, standing behind him. You keep your voice as calm as you can, not wanting to seem too emotional or irrational. “You treat me like shit.”

“Do I?” And that’s when you realize he’s not taking you seriously. You pull out your phone and start tapping on it. When he doesn’t hear your retort, he speaks again. “And is that all?”

“I’m blocking your number.” You say. “I’m tired of your shit, Kevin.”

“Really? You had to drive all the way over here just to block my number?”

It infuriates you that he assumes you’re bluffing, assumes that in a few days you’ll come crawling back. “Yes, because so far, the only thing that’s come of our quote unquote ‘ friendship’ is you using me for your own amusement to see how fast I’ll come running,” You tell him.

“And?” He asks. He sounds bored with this conversation, with you, as he continues working at whatever he’s doing. Playing around with one of his viruses, maybe. “You always have.”

That’s when you snap. You like to think that in most circumstances, you’re a bit more mature. That if it was anyone else, you’d simply walk out of that bedroom, slam the door, and not look back. But he’s gotten under your skin now like he always does. It’s not in the way he’s clearly become accustomed to being under your skin though– the way you’ve grown so tired of, where he keeps baiting you back to him, giving you just enough semblance of a friendship to make you question if you’re overreacting to his negligent behavior.

This time he’s not toying with you from afar over text messages and phone calls. This time Kevin is directly provoking you, and you do not respond kindly to it. You step over to his computer and push his computer monitor off the desk and onto the hardwood floor. The glass breaks.

You’re silent for a moment. There’s not a moment in this where you look like you’ve lost your composure, where your face is contorted with rage or where you’re screaming. It’s like your body acted of its own accord. “Shit,” You grumble, after a minute.

Kevin finally stands up. You step back. “Don’t worry. Mumsy can always buy another one,” He remarks of his dearly detested mother as he takes a step closer to you.

You feel almost like he’s sizing you up, and despite his calm demeanor you wonder, for a second, if he’s planning to hit you. But then he takes another step and then you’re pressed against the blue wall of his bedroom and he’s kissing you. Everything is silent except for wet mouth noises and the occasional sound of shoes sifting through glass and Kevin Khatchadourian is kissing you.

It’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to you, but it’s not entirely unwelcome. Even if perhaps it should be entirely unwelcome in every way possible considering the conversation you just tried to have.

He finally pulls away after a moment. You see something in his eyes you haven’t seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a reciprocation of your crush, of your feelings, or if it’s more so a bodily sort of hunger. Either way, you’ve ignited something in Kevin that you haven’t noticed there before. You take pride in it.

“Do that again,” You say, voice low. He complies.

[starry-snippets]

video games.

feeling angsty. also ignore anachronisms i'm just in my feels man (also i totally didn’t know if i should of done a picture of kak or joot, cause it is platonically x joot but like romantically x kakyoin but i picked kak)

synopsis: kakyoin vanishes for 50 days before you could tell him you love him and when you see jotaro return from spending 50 days with him your heart sinks, knowing something is wrong 

tw for implied death and possible spoilers! 

Your console has been untouched for the last week. There’s really no fun in playing you and Kakyoin’s favorite game while he’s away and seemingly unable to contact you. Instead of sitting in your bedroom together with one of your best friends you’re curled into your sheets, anxiety ripping away your sanity. He’s been gone for just about two months without a single call, letter, or text. You have no idea why he went other than to help Jotaro’s family with something. 

As you turn in your bed to get more comfortable, in the darkness of your room your phone chimes. The screen illuminates your whole room it feels like, not giving you any break from its brightness. You can see the message flash across and it’s from Jotaro. 

“I’m at the airport.” 

You immediately spring up, knowing if Jotaro is back it must mean that Kakyoin is too. Of course you’re happy that Jotaro is back as you’ve been his friend for several years as his neighbor – but you can’t deny you’re looking forward most to seeing Kakyoin. You can’t wait to tell him all about school and how your scores rival his, and how you’ve started a video game club at the school that you’re hoping he’s down to join. 

As you rush to the airport you’re greeted by Jotaro and his grandfather Joseph. Both have solemn expressions which are out of place for both of them. Joseph’s cocky grin is replaced with a straight line and eyebrows furrowed. Jotaro has his hat covering most of his face with an ominous shadow. You run to them in both relief and panic since Kakyoin isn’t among them. 

“Jotaro, where’s Kakyoin?” You ask despite fearing the stakes of this trip were higher than you could have imagined. But hearing Joseph’s breath hitch and his gaze turn from you two, you know Kakyoin didn’t make it home. 

Jotaro watches the color drain from your face and your arms fall slack at your sides, grief striking you worse than he’s ever seen. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes until they overflow, an avalanche being witnessed by the Joestars. Joseph and Jotaro watch as you fall apart before them. Unable to stop your quickened breathing at the magnitude of what they just expressed, you cover your mouth with your hand to try and not draw attention to you three in the airport. 

Joseph nudges Jotaro in the side, signaling for him to reassure you. Jotaro somewhat awkwardly raises his stiff arm to your shoulder. He waits a moment to observe what you do – really if his touch is unwelcomed – and when you stare up at him with that hopeless expression he feels himself snap too. 

All that he’s kept inside of him upon seeing Kakyoin lifeless back in Egypt is on the forefront of his mind. He cannot mask his sorrow in the relief that his mother is okay or in the victory of killing Dio. His heart is weighed down entirely by grief at losing his only other friend – the only other person he trusted like he does you. With his hat covering his eyes he begins to cry himself for the first time in likely years. You watch with wide eyes, especially when he pulls you into a hug, unbelieving they’re back and Kakyoin wasn’t so fortunate. Jotaro holds you tightly against him as he slightly cries while you weep in contrast. He hates that he couldn’t keep himself together but he knows you’ll reassure him it’s not weak to cry. Especially over your best friend’s death. 

“W-what ha-happened?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” Jotaro says with the slightest shake in his voice. “Let’s just…” He trails off in his head, unable to think straight with the sorrow rampaging his heart and mind. 

You give him a friendly squeeze while he holds you tightly in his arms, knowing what he’s asking for despite not voicing it entirely. 

“Of course Jojo.” 

[aceofstars16]

A fic I started writing a *while* ago and finally finished! I was going to try to draw something to go with it, but it's already been sitting for weeks or even months so...I'm just gonna share it now xD

Mabel is creating another sweater masterpiece, but then someone unexpected asks for her assistance.

Mabel was in the zone. Her fingers moved quickly, the clacking of her knitting needles filled the air. This was going to be a GREAT sweater. One of her best! Well, all of them were the best, but still!

She was vaguely aware of Dipper telling her he was going out with Soos and Stan to do…something, she didn’t quite catch what it was. But that was fine, this sweater would take up at least another hour, probably more. And if they weren’t back by then, well, she could start on another one. Or have a dance part with Waddles. Or about a million other things.

The TV was on as Mabel worked. She was half watching, half working, just how she liked it. Which is probably why didn’t notice Dipper leaving. Or just about anything else going on in the shack. That is, until someone coughed. Well, she might not have noticed that either, but it was kind of loud. Almost like they had already coughed once.

Looking up, a grin broke out on Mabel’s face as she saw Ford standing in the doorway.

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel held up her sweater. “What do you think?”

Ford glanced at the sweater, taking it in for a moment, then a hesitant smile grew on his face. “It’s uh, it’s very colorful.”

“Right?” She held up the yarn she was using. “I have been wanting to use these colors for ages and I finally got around to it, and it looks awesome!”

Ford nodded, but didn’t say anything else, almost as if he was at a loss for words.

Then Mabel had a spark of genius. “Oh my gosh! I can make you a sweater! I’ve tried making some for Dipper but he never wears them. I think ‘cause of his sweating problem. And I’ve offered to make one for Stan too. He says he doesn’t need one, but I’ll wear him down soon, I know it. But! You already wear sweaters!”

For a moment, Ford just stared at her, then he shook his head. “Oh, ah. No, that’s fine. I don’t need a new sweater.”

Mabel’s shoulders drooped and the sweater she had been holding up fell in her lap. All the of ideas she had been coming up with in the last few seconds came screeching to a halt.

“Oh, but uh, I do actually have a favor to ask. And it does involve sweaters.” Ford pulled his hands out from behind his back and showed her the black turtleneck he had been wearing when he’d first come out of the portal, along with the red one she’d seen him wear for the past few days. It was only now that she realized he was wearing a white button up instead of his normal sweater, though his coat was pulled tightly around his neck. “These have a few holes in them. I…can patch them myself, but-”

“I can help!” Mabel sat up straight, her smile returning to her face. “I can do it right now if you want!”

Ford held up a hand. “Oh, no, that’s fine. Just when you have time. I’ll leave them here.” He placed the sweaters on the edge of the couch.

Mabel couldn’t stop herself from picking up one of them. “I can do it now, really, you could even stay and-”

“No, no. Really. It’s fine. There are some things I need to attend to.” Ford gave her an awkward smile which she tried to return despite her disappointment. She really wanted to get to know Ford better.

“I’ll leave you to your current project.” Ford raised a hand in farewell, then turned and left without another word.

Mabel frowned at the empty hallway where her grunkle had been. Then she glanced at the sweater in her lap. “Sorry rainbow sweater, but I have another project I gotta work on first.” Placing aside her colorful top, Mabel picked up the black turtleneck and frowned. It was so dark, and as she examined it, she saw a bunch of holes in it. The red one was better, but still way too holey.

Carefully placing all of the sweaters on the couch, she raced upstairs. Ford might’ve said he only needed a patch job, and he’s said there was no rush. but Mabel knew she couldn’t pass up this opportunity. This was her chance to make something for her new grunkle – even if it was just adding something to his current clothes – and she was not going to wait to get started.

------

Ford frowned as he stared at the rift, moving within its containment unit. He was still at a loss as to how to get rid of it, if he even could. It was just another reminder of his mistakes, and now, thanks to Stan, he was back to square one with stopping Bill too.

The sound of the elevator opening sent a wave of panic through Ford and he quickly closed the door to the cabinet he had been keeping the rift in. He’d told Dipper, yes, but he didn’t want to risk anyone else knowing about it.

“Grunkle Ford!”

Spinning around, Ford was met with the sight of Mabel grinning, her hands behind her back. He was more than a little surprised to see her, it had only been an hour or so since he’d gone upstairs to give her his sweaters.

“So, I know you said there wasn’t a rush, but I really wanted to work on your sweaters right away…” Mabel pulled her hands from behind her back to show him the sweaters. “But I really wanted to do them now!”

For a moment, Ford stared at her. She had worked fast! He wasn’t very knowledgeable about knitting, but he had always assumed it took a while to make something. Then again, he’d only asked for a patch job, so maybe that didn’t take as long.

Reaching forward, he picked up the top sweater – his red one – which, upon further inspection, he could see was now free of holes. “Thank you, Mabel, I appreciate-” He trailed off as he caught sight of his black turtleneck. Because it was no longer fully black. There were grey and white polka dots scattered over the whole thing and on the front was a stitched six fingered hand.

“You like it?” Mabel grinned, holding up the sweater. “There were a lot more holes, and I didn’t have much black left. And I thought ‘hey, everyone loves polka dots!’ and since you have a fix fingered hand on your journal, I figured that would be a fun touch too!”

For a moment, Ford just stood there processing the information. He’d only asked for a patch job, he really didn’t need anything extra, and he would’ve gladly waited for her to get more yarn that would match. But then he met her gaze and saw the pure excitement and enthusiasm shining in her eyes. He couldn’t help but remember her creativity when playing DD & More D, and the fact that she had channeled that into one of his sweaters and was so excited about it…He found a small smile growing on his face as well.

“Thank you, Mabel. I love it.”

“Really?!?” Mabel beamed, holding it out to him.

He accepted it and placed it above the red sweater that he had draped on his arm.

“Are you gonna try it on?”

Ford couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Alright, I’ll try it on.” He handed her the red sweater before carefully pulling the black one over his head. He glanced down at it and smiled. It wasn’t his style at all - even after thirty years in other dimensions, he still found himself trying not to draw attention to his extra fingers - but for some reason, he didn’t mind seeing it displayed on a sweater.

“It looks perfect! Now we really are sweater twins!”

“I suppose we are.” Ford smiled fondly at her enthusiasm. It really was contagious.

“Oh! I forgot! I need to let Waddles out for a bit, he’s been cooped up for hours and I can’t let him out without supervision!” Mabel quickly handed the red sweater to Ford and raced towards the elevator, but not before giving Ford one last grin. “I’m glad you love your sweaters Grunkle Ford!”

Ford watched as the elevator doors closed. Then he glanced down at the sweater before looking up at the dismantled portal and the cabinet with the rift in it. His work tended to be quite messy. With a frown, he carefully removed the black sweater and replaced it with the red. It was a special gift and he didn’t want to accidentally ruin it. No, he decided that it would be saved for very special occasions. After all, this was the first gift he’d received in a long time, especially from family. And for that, it deserved to be treated as the treasure that it was.