#but going 'well. guess i have to avoid ao3 or checking out new followers' blogs' and things like that is :

[astriiformes]

.

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 5: Thai Food and Realizations

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

AO3 Link

I got this one out QUICK because I'm moving this week and packing is taking up 94% of my brainpower but!! It's out on time!! If I ever have to delay a chapter, I’ll post an update here on my blog. Also, I don’t usually do taglists, but I have had a few people ask - so if you want to be added to a taglist for new chapters, just shoot me a message! I love you all so much, thank you for the continued support and comments!!! <3

Summary:  You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter: 5, Thai Food and Realizations

Chapter Summary: You decide to talk to Hotch after the Matthews incident, and wind up discovering a lot more about both of you than you bargained for.

Words: 2616

Rating: Explicit, 18+ 

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You weren’t prepared with the immense boredom that came with actually having free time.

The rest of the team had closed the case and flown back (at least you assumed they had; you hadn’t checked), and Hotch had texted you not to bother coming back in until they got a new assignment. You were grateful for the courtesy - a little time to decompress after almost being murdered was nice - but after months of having almost no life outside of the internship, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself.

By the time day four rolled around, you had caught up on the reading you’d been meaning to get to, deep cleaned twice, tried and failed to get into running, and sought out at least a dozen other forms of mindless entertainment. You tried not to think about the fact that this would be the perfect time to catch up with friends if you actually had any, but your college and post-college life spent studying like a madwoman to land a position with the BAU hadn’t exactly lent itself to a healthy social life. There were acquaintances, of course, people you’d spent time with, college boys you’d dated briefly, but none of them had ever lasted. Gotten close.

None of them had ever killed a man for you.

That was the core of it, right? The reason you couldn’t get him out of your head? He’d only known you for a few months, not like the rest of his team that he’d dedicated years to, and yet he didn’t hesitate to end someone’s life in brutal fashion to save yours. You were grateful, of course, given the alternative, but a part of you felt bad. Given his history, he was already encumbered with enough trauma - the last thing he’d needed was another death on his conscience.

That was his decision to make.

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Or tried to. But after four days of the guilt eating at you and failing to distract yourself from it, that thought stopped being reassuring. That evening, after a couple glasses of wine, you finally worked up the courage to acknowledge the idea that had been tossing around in the periphery of your mind for a while.

Committing to action before you convinced yourself this was a dumb idea - and it was, of course, but the slight buzz and four days of isolation said otherwise - you called in an order to the Thai place down the street and heaved yourself off the couch. You tried not to care about how you looked, but changed your outfit an embarrassing number of times before you got the text that your order was ready.

When you first started at the BAU, Garcia had sent you a directory of all the team members’ information. You remembered asking her why their home addresses were on the list - that’s kind of unnecessary, isn’t that, like, personal?  you’d said - and you remembered the sad look she’d given you by way of an answer. Turns out the job had followed them all home at one point or another, usually in a way that required rescuing. As you checked the directory for Hotch’s address, you considered that this information was probably only intended to be used if you needed to save him from an unhinged serial killer breaking into his home, but you figured “thanking your boss for snapping a man’s neck to save your life” was a satisfactory enough purpose.

Turns out, Hotch lived in an apartment only a few blocks away from yours. After picking up the takeout order, you started to make the trek. The closer you got, however, the more your confidence started to waver, and not just because you started to realize how weird you were about to look. Even in the dimming light of the evening, you could tell from the building facades that you were entering a much more well-to-do part of downtown. The storefronts and restaurants occupying the bottom floor of brick condos looked more high-class, the cars parked along the sidewalk more expensive and well-maintained. It made sense given his status in the FBI that Hotch could afford to live in an area like this, but still, you hadn’t imagined it. You hadn’t imagined him living outside of work at all, actually - like an elementary school teacher, it was strange to think that he had a life outside of his job.

You stopped outside of the address on your cell phone, a greystone, ivy-covered apartment building. The doorman saw you pause at the threshold and opened the door from the inside.

“Visiting, I assume?” he asked, as you stepped inside.

Still in shock at the fact that you were in the sort of area that had doormen, you nodded. “Um, yes, Agent Hotchner? I mean, Aaron Hotchner? I work with him. For him, actually. He doesn’t know I’m coming.”

The doorman gracefully ignored your verbal fumbling. “Do you have a badge?”

It made sense that Hotch would use that as a barrier to entry. Smart. You nodded again and produced it from your bag. He waved you on to the stairwell, where you made the climb to the fourth and topmost floor.

You stuttered to a stop outside his door at the very end of the hall. Suddenly overcome with nerves, you took a mental stock of yourself: slightly winded from the four-floor climb, dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, hair less-than-artfully windswept, hands slightly shaking with adrenaline, clutching a bag of takeout. Not the image you wanted to present to your boss.

God, this was such a fucking stupid idea.

You started to turn away, intending to leave the way you came, when the door in front of you flew open. You yelped, dropping the bag, and turned back to see Hotch standing in the doorway. He was in his work pants, still, but a plain black t-shirt replaced his usual button-up. His left hand was on the half-open door, right hand behind his back, no doubt holding his gun. You put your hands up sheepishly in surrender.

“Hey, Agent Hotchner. Sorry. I just wanted to-”

“What are you doing here?” he interrupted, eyebrows screwed up in confusion.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to, um, thank you. For saving me, the other day. I brought you dinner.”

He continued to look at you like you’d just grown two heads.

You leaned down and picked up the bag of food, holding it out towards him lamely. He looked down at it and finally seemed to relax, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t get many- I wasn’t expecting a visitor. Please, come in.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that he might invite you in, but you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to see Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You stepped in, and he replaced the gun he was holding back in a drawer by the entryway, locking the door behind you. You were suddenly overcome with sorrow, knowing his life had progressed in such a way that hearing footsteps outside his door was a cause for alarm.

The apartment was nearly as intimidating as the man himself. Tall, industrial ceilings loomed over the open, warehouse-style floorplan, populated by neutral furnishings. An exposed brick wall on the left housed a stainless-steel kitchen, while a king-sized bed on the far right wall was placed near the only closed portion of the space, which you guessed was the bathroom. The windows were numerous - multi-paned and massive, but curtains were drawn over most of them. It was all a reflection of Hotch - impressive and somewhat cold.

There was a single photo, from what you could see, in the entire apartment - a small frame on the otherwise file-covered coffee table between the couch and flatscreen. It was a photo of Hotch, a woman, and a young child. You found yourself drawn towards it, as Hotch took the bag from you to set it on the kitchen island, and you walked over to pick it up. He was smiling in the photo - a genuine smile, not the tight-lipped imitations you caught a few times at the office - and the sight filled you with emotion. Who was he before you met him? A father, a husband, of course, but what was he like?  Did he laugh at Prentiss and Morgan’s off-color jokes instead of chiding them, did he go out to social gatherings with the team? Did he spare emotion when speaking to a victim’s family, as he so rarely did now? Would he have broken a man’s neck without thought like he did to Matthews?

“You’ll stay for dinner?”

You quickly set the frame back down.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, I just wanted to thank you. I’ve been thinking about it the last few days and I just feel… bad. I guess. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Why would you feel bad?”

You hesitated, trying to avoid the truth - that he didn’t need another body on his conscience. He waited for an answer, and when he didn't receive one, he stepped closer and scanned your face. "What aren't you telling me?"

You weren't keeping anything from him, not really, you just didn't want it to sound like you were calling his mental state into question like you did at the hotel. It didn't matter though, because he had apparently pulled the answer from your expression already.

“You think I’m damaged. And that killing Matthews somehow added to that.”

There was no point in even attempting to lie to him, so you stayed silent.

Hotch sighed and pulled out a seat at the kitchen island. You took it and watched him distribute the takeout containers between the two of you, noticing that despite insisting you weren’t intending to stay for dinner, you’d ordered plenty of food for two people.

Profiling yourself is the worst.

“When Haley and I were married,” Hotch began, picking at his curry, “I took her for granted. I spent more late nights at work than I can count, and I always assumed she would be there when I got home. She was, at first, and then she wasn’t.”

You nodded, afraid to speak, trying not to disturb the moment you’d somehow stumbled upon.

“She had an affair. I never confronted her about it, but I knew. I didn’t hate her for it, but when she asked for a divorce, I let her go without a fight. I wanted the best chance to keep Jack in my life and I didn’t want things to get ugly between us. It worked - I got to see Jack; we were amicable.”

He paused before continuing, “They were killed a few years later by George Foyet. We mismanaged that case. He was ahead of us the entire time; we couldn’t catch up. When we finally caught him, after Haley and Jack-” His voice finally broke, and he set down his fork, staring at the counter.

“He surrendered. I didn't care.”

“You beat him to death,” you whispered. You’d looked up the case file, after JJ had told you what happened.

He nodded, seemingly unsurprised you were familiar with the details. “I was never charged, hardly investigated. No one blamed me. I took some time off, and I came back. I thought about going back to law, but I didn’t.”

He looked up at you, meeting your gaze. “Why didn’t I?”

You blinked away the tears that were forming, confused.”I-I’m sorry?”

“Why didn’t I go back to law? Leave the BAU? You should know the answer.”

“Are you asking me to profile you?”

He nodded in confirmation. “You’re not going to offend me, don’t worry.”

Hotch was the last person you wanted to profile, especially to his face, but you knew better than to try to refuse.

“You... wanted a sense of purpose. If you could keep the same thing from happening to other people, it would make up for what happened to your family,” you responded quietly. It was an easy answer, but it still felt wrong to put Hotch on display like that, especially after he’d already revealed more to you than you’d ever seen him do with anyone.

“Correct,” he said, without a hint of the bitterness you’d have expected to accompany that statement.

“And did it? Help, I mean?”

He studied your face, as if trying to decide whether to grant you the answer. You were suddenly aware of the strangeness of the situation - sitting feet away from your boss in his own apartment talking about the darkest moments of his life. This was insight you doubted he’d ever given before, and as you glanced over his mussed hair, the black t-shirt, caught a whiff of his cologne, you tried not to think about the implications of that statement.

Clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows, he turned back to his food. “It did. It does, most of the time. The rest of the team has been exceptionally understanding, perhaps more so than I deserve.”

“You deserve everything they can give you,” you said with a small smile. “From what they’ve told me, you’ve done the same for each of them several times over.”

“It’s my job,” Hotch said, but you could tell he softened at hearing how his team regarded him.

You both went back to your food, finishing the meal in relative silence - the kind that was comfortable, where you both knew that everything that needed to be said for now, had been. At least, the silence probably felt comfortable to him. Your mind was in overdrive.

Everything Hotch had said and done the last few months that had caused you to falter - the way he shook your hand when you first signed onto the BAU internship, the innocuous moments of praise, that goddamn tie - they were circling your mind like a vulture waiting for the kill. You had tried to brush those moments off, but hearing him open up like this, bare his soul, was too much. It was the next look you stole, watching him eat in quiet contemplation, faint remnants of the blush from the compliment you paid him still gracing his cheeks, that did you in.

You were pretty sure you were in love with Aaron Hotchner.

You were so, so unbelievably fucked.

____________

When Hotch bid you goodbye that night, after you helped clean up his kitchen (which allowing you to do had been a debate in itself), you had the brief, stupid thought that you should just be honest with him. How long, truly, were you going to be able to hide the fact that you were infatuated with your boss? Especially when your boss was in the business of reading people like books?

That idea went out the window, however, when he leaned against the doorway with his signature half-smile and said, “Thank you for everything tonight. I’m glad you’re on the team,” because you know where you wouldn't be, if you confessed your sudden realization? On the team. Hotch made it clear when he hired you, and every day since, that clear judgement was paramount to the team's success. There was no way he'd trust you to be unbiased in a situation that required it if he knew how you felt. And this position was too much to think about giving up, not after the years of studying and social isolation that allowed you to make the cut.

So, you can do this, you decided. You can lie to Aaron Hotchner.

Right?

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Am I forgotten ? (KitTy Fan Fic)

KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate both the release of Ty’s latest flower card and Kitty’s appreciation week!

If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?

Following Chapter is Chapter 6 - Lex malla, lex nulla

Kit and Ty did not make it far, as three Faeries suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path. As it was the case for Ty, to stay they stood out of the crowd was an understatement. The one standing in the middle was the tallest and the most elegantly clad. Dark velvet clothes with fine embroidery hugged the shapes of his lean body, the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt. He had long silvery blond hair framing his narrow face and tucked behind his pointy ears, and his deep blue eyes seemed to hold centuries of life in this world. He would have been stunning if not for the permanent scowl on his face. The other two, flanking him, had long dark hair and looked so alike they might have been twins. It was clear from their stance that they were Faerie knights.

Ty turned to Kit and whispered urgently. “That’s him. I need to interrogate him. Preferably without his two bodyguards.”

“Well met,” Kit said in his most cheerful voice.

“Well met,” the blond Faerie replied. “It seems as though you have lost your way.”

“Wrong,” Kit said. “I was lost, but I have been found.”

Ty shot him a disapproving look. The Faerie lifted a silvery eyebrow.

Kit dropped Ty’s hand to move his arm behind his back, slowly tracing his fingers along Ty’s side down to his hip until they finally rested on Ty’s… buttocks. He gently squeezed for added effect. God, how perfect. Ty startled, his eyes widening and his lips parting in shock, but made no further move. He was staring straight ahead, as if he could not bear to meet Kit’s eyes. A deep red had started to spread across his cheeks towards his temples.

The Faerie’s eyes had not missed the gesture and the scowl vanished from his face from one moment to another.

“Let me guess,” he said, his gaze moving between Kit and Ty. A genuine smile spread across his face. “You two are only here to have a good time.”

“Wrong again. We were here to have a good time, but my boyfriend is not feeling well. This place is too noisy, too… crowded. We are leaving.”

“Are you now?” The Faerie said, lifting both his eyebrows. His eyes, glittering with interest, were now roaming over Kit’s body. “The night is still young, and so are you. May I offer you some refreshments in a more private venue?”

Kit plastered a hesitant look on his face. “We are far from home. It would be nice if we could get our bearings before we leave.” The Faerie’s smile grew wider and, without a word, he whirled and started to move gracefully towards the back of the club, flanked by his two bodyguards. Kit and Ty followed.

“So, who is this guy?” Kit whispered in Ty’s ear, after - regretfully - dropping his arm from his back.

“A Faerie Prince. One of King Kieran’s many brothers. He was very close to the late King Arawn once.”

“Wow, wait a minute- a Prince ? How many laws are we planning to break tonight?”

“Twenty-seven,” Ty replied without blinking.

Kit whistled.  

Ty turned to him, his eyes glittering, and the corner of his mouth lifted mischievously. “Lex malla, lex nulla,” he said in a deep, low voice. Kit couldn’t help but stare at Ty, at the way his soft lips shaped the words, gently pressing around the “M”, at the way his tongue rolled in his mouth at the “Ls”.

He had always thought Ty was beautiful, but right now the word that popped in his mind was HOT. So freaking HOT.

Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, you naughty boy.

“What about your vows as a Centurion?” Kit asked when he had regained his composure.

“A good Centurion once told me that vows of friendship… and love are stronger.”

Did Kit imagine the way Ty put an emphasis on the word love ?

****

They were seated in a very large high-ceilinged room, with no windows save for a glass roof through which one could see New York’s night sky.

A vampire waitress came in carrying flutes of champagne and presented them to Kit and Ty. They both declined.

“I am fine,” said the Faerie Prince, when she offered him a drink. He didn’t even bother to look up at her. His gaze was fixed on Kit and Ty, and a small smile was playing across his face, as if he were enjoying a private joke. “I am already drunk with the sexual tension between these two.”

Kit couldn’t help but look over at Ty, and their eyes met for a second before they both swiftly glanced away.

“The two of you haven’t done the deed yet, have you?” The Faerie Prince’s eyes were now sparkling with excitement. “When you do..." He opened both his hands and spread his long fingers wide, mimicking an explosion... or was it fireworks? "I am willing to pay a fortune to witness that. Name your price.”

Kit glanced at the bodyguards. They were looking at Kit and Ty with a stern expression on their faces, as if it hadn’t all been a show. It had been a joke, right? But… Faeries didn’t lie.

Kit stood. “Can we have a moment alone together? Just you and me.” He looked pointedly at the bodyguards. “I would prefer to discuss... the terms, privately.”

As if they had received a signal, the two knights started to move to stand before the Prince, who lifted his hand in a halting gesture as he paused to consider. They both froze.

Kit seized the opportunity. With slow, deliberate movements, he started to take his jacket off. He threw it on the nearest armchair. “You will see that I am unarmed.” He took his shirt off next, the muscles of his arms flexing as he lifted it leisurely over his head. When he was half naked, he spread his arms wide. “You can ask your knights to check the rest if you don’t believe me. I have nothing to hide.”

They did. As their hands moved over Kit’s body in search of weapons, Ty tensed. He was watching their every move, his fiery gaze fixed on their hands, as if he could burn a hole through them.

“Leave us,” said the Faerie Prince when they were done.

Ty rose from his armchair and moved to stand before Kit, his back to the Faerie Prince.

“Kit- I don't like this plan,” he said in a hushed, urgent voice. Kit noticed with a pang that he had started stroking his pendant again.

“Ty- Please, trust me. I know what I’m doing,” Kit replied.

Ty held Kit’s gaze for a moment, searching his eyes. Kit tried very hard to convey a message of confidence he wasn’t sure he really had.

Ty finally gave him a curt, stiff nodd. As he moved past Kit, the back of their hands brushed, sending an electric current through Kit’s entire body.

Kit didn’t trust himself not to go running to Ty, so he stared straight ahead until he heard the door close behind him.

When they were alone, the Faerie Prince rose from his chair. “Finally."

In two strides of his long legs, he had joined Kit and stood before him, so close Kit could feel his breath over his skin. He smelled of cloves. The Prince lifted his hands to place them on each of Kit’s biceps.

“You love him,” he said without preamble.

Kit swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”

“The question you are asking yourself is, does he love you?”

“I know he doesn’t.” Kit tried to hide the despair in his voice but failed miserably.

The Faerie Prince lifted his silver eyebrows. “You know? Are you so powerful as to be able to read one’s heart?”

“He said as much. Or at least, that's what his words suggested. I don’t want to talk about it.” Kit had no intention to share his deepest feelings with a mere stranger. A Faerie Prince at that. There’s nothing if you aren’t there. Words meant for Livvy alone and no one else, especially not Kit. After all these years, they still stung as if they were new. A raw pain for an old wound.

“You make an interesting couple, the two of you,” said the Faerie after a moment. “The Shadowhunter who looks like a Faerie and... the Faerie who looks like a Shadowhunter.”

Kit gasped audibly. The Prince’s hands were now moving in circles over Kit’s bare chest, smooth fingers caressing his skin.

“You thought I would not be able to recognize my own kin? My own blood? I see him in you, you know… My father.”

Kit was unable to move, staring in shock as the Faerie’s long fingers started tracing the shapes of his abs. Distantly, he thought he heard the door open and close. The sound was so muted he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“Tell me, Christopher Herondale, who are you loyal to? Your royal blood family? Or your adoptive family?”

Tessa. Jem. Mina. Kit came to his senses and clenched his fists. He knew he didn’t need weapons to fight. The Prince would never know what had hit him. Kit would avoid knocking him out, of course, as Ty needed to interrogate him.

“I tend to stick with those trying to protect me instead of those trying to kill me. That’s how boring I am.”

As it turned out, Kit didn’t even have to lift a finger.

It all happened in a blur. The Faerie Prince’s hands which had moved over Kit's biceps suddenly froze, and his lips parted in shock. Ty had appeared behind him, as swift as a shadow, and was grasping a knife whose silvery blade was pressed against his throat. Ty’s hands were covered in blood… Probably from the two knights.

“I would have a few questions to ask you,” Ty said. His tone was as cold as ice. “But first... take your hands off my boyfriend, before I separate them from your body.”

*****

Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia 

[butlerbarb]

Sweets (Leviathan x Reader)

i suppose i should start this blog off with the first fic i posted on ao3!

Staring at yourself in the mirror as you fiddled with your uniform, you sighed. It just didn’t fit right! Diavolo had said he found the one that matched your human world size the closest, but apparently demons and humans were different in more ways than you thought. With another tug at the chest area, you groaned, deeming it good enough for now. You’d get Asmodeus to fix it later.

Exiting your bathroom, you grabbed your D.D.D just as it buzzed to life with a text. Catching Leviathan’s name on screen, you smiled and unlocked your device. Taking a quick look at the text Mammon had sent you – something along the lines of wanting you to skip with him again – before you opened Levi’s.

Leviathan: Gud morning. Are you going to RAD today?

[Y/N]: …I HAVE to go.

Leviathan: Why do you have to go? You’d have a better time skipping school and playing games with me all day.

You rolled your eyes. Really, what was it with these demons and wanting you to skip school? It was everyday that at least one of the more troublesome brothers asked you to skip and do something else with them. Even if some days you wanted to skip, you knew Lucifer would have you hide if he did, so you tended to avoid any of their persuasion.

[Y/N]: I AM a student, after all.

Hitting send on the text, you clicked your phone off and shoved it into your pocket. Pulling the door to your room open, you were immediately greeted by Mammon, fist already raised into the air to knock on your door. His eyes went wide, and he laughed, his hand falling and landing on his hips in typical Mammon fashion. His shocked expression quickly morphed into a grin that oozed confidence, again, typical Mammon fashion.

“Are you psychic now, Human? Or were you just that excited to see the GREAT Mammon, that you came rushing out of your room?” Mammon spoke, as cheerful and loud as ever. You stared at him, shaking your head at his overflowing confidence, he was very annoyingly cute.

“Yes, Mammon, I was just SO excited to see you this morning I came rushing out of my room as soon as I heard your footsteps.” You spoke sarcastically, hoping Mammon would catch it. He didn’t. Instead, your words only seemed to inflate his ego more. You watched in disbelief as his grin grew wider and a small blush dusted his cheeks.

“Ha-ha! Of course, ya’d be excited to see me! I am the GREAT Mammon, after all!” He boasted again, leaning down slightly towards you. You laughed, rolling your eyes again and reaching a hand towards his waiting head. You gave his hair a ruffle, bushing a part of it out of his eyes.

“Yes, yes of course, you are very great, Mammon. Now let’s go to breakfast please, I’m starving.” Mammon let out a quiet, happy cheer at your praise, refusing to pull away from your hand until you pushed him away. He took off down the hall, leaving you to walk by yourself, to which you wonder what the point of him coming to your room was anyway. With a shake of your head, you pulled your phone out of your pocket as it buzzed again.

Leviathan: OOH, GOODY 2 SHOES OVER HERE

You snorted at the text, getting read to type a reply when another two texts popped in from Leviathan.

Leviathan: Well, go on and go if you’re gonna go. Come back home quickly tho. Leviathan: I can’t do any of the co-op dungeons by myself, you know.

You laughed, smiling to yourself as you walked down the stairs to the first floor. You had forgotten that Leviathan had made you play on of his PC games with you the other day, claiming that it wasn’t cause he liked you, he just need someone to do the two player dungeons with and you were the most reasonable choice. He was cute.

[Y/N]: Roger, boss! <3

You watched in amusement as he read the text immediately and the three dots popped up, disappeared, popped up a second time and then disappeared again. Leviathan never ended up replying, much to your amusement, making you think he simply went into emotional overdrive and shut down. He was really cute.

You pocketed your phone right as you stepped into the dining room. Claiming the seat in between Mammon and Beelzebub, you greeted everyone at the table and began piling some food onto your plate. Beelzebub always made comments about how little you ate – although everyone ate very little compared to him – not realized that you couldn’t eat most of the stuff demons ate. Monkey brains, spider legs, you swore you caught Satan downing a vial of poison before. Demons ate things you were sure would kill you in the most painful way possible.

After breakfast, Mammon and Beelzebub accompanied you to your class – Mammon unwillingly, of course – and you spent most of the morning trying to get both brothers to focus on their work instead of slacking off. You felt your phone buzz a few times, but you made sure not to make a habit of checking your phone in class, you didn’t want your teachers, and subsequently Lucifer, getting mad at you.

Around lunchtime was when you finally pulled out your phone at Mammon’s insistence. He demanded you check out this new game he had playing, claiming you would like it as well. You noted that you had a few texts from some demon friends the brothers said would be okay for you to talk to, most just asking if you were busy after school, wanting to hang out. You would have, had you not had plans with Leviathan. Texting them back, telling them you were busy, you then proceeded to the app store to download the game Mammon wanted you to.

You opened it up, both Mammon and Beelzebub now leaning over your shoulder to watch you play. It was a rhythm game focusing on cute, demon idol girls. It also contained gacha elements, so you knew this was just another game Mammon would blow all his money on until he got bored. It was fun, and you had no trouble picking up how to play, having fallen victim to plenty of rhythm games back in the human world.

Mammon complained as you easily S-ranked even the hardest difficulties, claiming he was only able to do up to normal, hard on some songs. Beelzebub laughed at him, claiming he just didn’t have any rhythm himself, which of course, set Mammon off on a tyrant. You ignored Mammon’s insistent yelling, tuning both brothers out as you focused on a particularly difficult song. You tuned them back in once you were finished, only to watch as Beelzebub full-combo-ed an especially difficult song on max difficulty. You high-fived the younger brother, laughing as Mammon complained in the background.

Turning back to your phone, you caught a glimpse of a notification banner sliding off-screen. Closing the rhythm game, you opened your messages, seeing Leviathan’s name at the top. Seeing as he completely ignored your last message made you chuckle.

Leviathan: What’s uuuup? Ur still at RAD, rite? Could you hit up Lament and get some Bufo Egg Milk Tea for me on your way home?

Smirking to yourself, you typed out your reply:

[Y/N]: My services do not go free of charge

You could feel Levi rolling his eyes at you as he typed his response. Once Levi had started warming up to you after making a pact with him, you realized he enjoyed it when you gave him playful responses and teased him lightly. He was always annoyed when his brothers did it, but for some reason played along when it was you.

Leviathan: FINE, be that way [Y/N], I’ll give you some cash so you can get something for yourself, too. I’m still gonna ask you to pay me back tho lol. Thanks in advance 👍

[Y/N]: Aw, you’re the best Levi! I’ll be home in a little, you better have snacks ready :3

After your conversation with Levi, the bell rang for the end of lunch. You headed back to your classroom with both brothers in tow, happily anticipating the end of the day. Your last classes were fairly laid back, meaning time passed by in a blur. Once you and everyone else were released, you insisted Mammon and Beelzebub take you to Lament, knowing you’d probably get lost on your own. You made the trip as quick as possible, knowing if you stayed there for any longer than necessary Beelzebub would try to order everything in the café. You got what Levi wanted, and a snack and drink for yourself with the money he sent you. Mammon demanded you buy him something as well and pouted when you told him you only had the money Levi lent you.

After waiting for an extra 15 minutes so Beelzebub could get his absolutely massive order, the three of you headed back to the House of Lamentation. You quickly ditched the second- and sixth-born brothers in favour of the third-born. You knocked on his door gingerly, entering quickly after you recited the secret password. Leviathan was reclined on his bed, phone in hand as he gazed up at you. He held his hand out expectantly, and you took the hint to hand him his drink. He shifted over slightly in the bed, allowing you room to scooch in beside him.

“What’d you get?” He asked, gesturing to the drink and paper bag you held in your hand. You only shrugged in response; you weren’t really sure what you got yourself. Mammon had pointed out the things that were most “human-friendly,” so you just got that. Explaining that to Levi, he only nodded in response before going back to his phone. You took an experimental sip of your drink, slightly scared about what it would do to you, only to find that it was actually surprisingly good!

You hummed happily as you continued to sip on your drink as Leviathan laughed beside you. Taking the pastry you got out its bag, you started at it in slight horror. It looked… strange to say the least. It was a cupcake that you had thought was adorned with a fondant eyeball and icing. As it turned out, this guess was very, very wrong. The eye seemed to follow you as you moved it around and to your utmost horror, it blinked. Had you not been in Leviathan’s room, you most likely would have thrown it across the room. With a grimace, you held it out to the demon beside you.

“Is this like… safe for me to eat? It feels like it’s gonna attack me if I do…” You spoke quietly, eyeing the cupcake warily. Leviathan laughed at your question, grabbing your wrist to bring the item closer to his face. He sniffed it, before letting go of your hand and shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’ll be fine, lol. I think it’s chocolate.” He replied, using his pinky finger to swipe a bit of the icing off of it. Bringing it to his mouth, he nodded in confirmation as he licked the sweet icing off his finger.

“Yeah that’s chocolate. The eye won’t hurt you, it’s not actually real.”

“But…”

“No buts! Just eat it or go give it to Beel.”

With a sigh, you hesitantly brought the dessert to your mouth. Taking a small bite out of it, your eyes lit up at the taste. Surprisingly, it was just as good at the drink! You happily took a bigger bite, no longer feeling creeped out by how it was seemingly living, you were free to enjoy how yummy it was.

“See? I told you it was good, normie.” Leviathan laughed, his hand reaching out to pick off a piece of the actually cake for himself. He hummed to himself, muttering under his breath about telling the guys on the forums to check this out. You snorted, was all that all he was thinking about? People he only knew through the internet? He was so lame, it was cute.

“What does your drink taste like?” You asked, now suddenly curious of the cup he held in his hand. His eyes widened as you reached out to grab it from him, jerking his arm away from you. You frowned, reaching out further for it, only to have him pull it further away from you. This continued until you were practically on top of him, yet he was still just barely able to hold it out of your reach.

“Levi,” you whined, sprawling yourself on top of him as you tried to reach for his drink. “Let me have a taste!”

“No way! That’d be like, an indirect kiss or something!” He protested. At his words, you practically deadpanned, staring him right in the face. No longer reaching for the drink, you let your hands fall to his chest as you continued staring at him. You watched as very noticeable blush dusted his cheeks a bright red colour, as well as the tips of his ears.

“What? Quit staring at me like that!” He pouted, turning his face away from you in an attempt to cover his quickly darkening blush. You nudged his chin with your hand, forcing his gaze back onto you. You stared down at him until he finally met your eyes again, a pout on his lips. God, when he looked like this you could have sworn, he was the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Envy.

“You’re so worried about an indirect kiss, does that mean you’ve never actually kissed someone, Levi?” You asked quietly, leaning down closer to the demon underneath you, watching him squirm in panic at your question. He refused to meet your eyes, the colour on his ears darkening more than you ever thought possible. Although, seeing as you were in the realm of demons, you supposed anything could be possible now.

“Quit it…” Leviathan muttered sheepishly, his bottom lip jutting out more and more. Moving your hand from his chin, you slide it up the side of his face and into his hair. Just like his older brother, Leviathan was weak to having his head rubbed and hair played with.

“I’ll stop if you want me to, Levi. I won’t use the pact to make you stay if you don’t want to.” You offered, backing off slightly and getting ready to remove yourself from him. He stopped you, however, his hands shyly resting on your hips to keep you in place. He refused to meet your gaze, but you could tell by the way his fingers dug into you slightly that he didn’t want you to leave.

“Tell me what you want, Levi.” You teased, using the hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair to trace the side of his face. The embarrassed glare he shot at you was so adorable, you almost cooed at him like a child, but you knew that would only ruin the mood. You slowly dragged your hand from his cheeks to his lips, using your thumb to pull at his bottom lip slightly. The noise that left his mouth, similar to that of a kitten, was adorable to say the least, and you could feel yourself swooning at his cuteness.

“Levi, you’re so cute.” You whispered, leaning down to ever so slightly brush your lips against his, watching in amusement as he stretched to fully connect your lips with his. You moved to brush your lips against his again, but right before you could, you swerved to the left slightly. Grabbing his once discarded milk tea and bringing the straw to your lips, you took a sip before scowling at the taste. You assumed it was probably because of the weird, slimy texture of the Bufo eggs, but something about it was off-putting.

From underneath you, Leviathan groaned, frowning up at you. You feigned innocence, tilting your head to the side as if to ask did I do something wrong? Before you could react to anything, Levi’s hands that were once on your waist moved to cup your cheeks in the blink of an eye. He then, suddenly feeling bold you assumed, brought your lips to his forcefully. The kiss was awkward, clearly showing his inexperience, but it made it more endearing to you.

Leviathan, the socially awkward, shut it nerd, was willingly giving you, a human, his first kiss. This was the best day of your life, really. You sure hoped Levi was enjoying it as much as you were, if not you were sure the situation would quickly become awkward. You definitely didn’t want this to ruin the friendship you had with him, and his brothers as well.

Demons, as you just found out, could hold their breath much longer than humans. When you pulled away from him, he was nowhere near as out of breath as you were, but you could probably blame that on your own excitement and the way he kissed you without warning. You weren’t complaining, though, you liked the bolder, confident side of the normally awkward and sheepish demon.

Leviathan frowned up at you, obviously upset that you pulled away when he wasn’t finished. You rolled your eyes at him, poking his cheek lightly as he tried to pull you back down to him. You rolled off of him, curling into his side. He sighed, wrapping one arm around you as his other grabbed his previously discarded drink. You didn’t realize when you had let go of it, more than likely sometime when he was kissing you.

“Weren’t we supposed to be playing games?” You asked, peering up at him from under your lashes. He glanced down at you, a hint of a smile on his face as he shook his head at you.

“We were, but you seemed more interested in stealing my drink from me. Can’t believe I let a normie like you kiss me.” He replied, setting his drink down of his nightstand to grab his phone. You watched as he loaded up a website, one you certainly didn’t recognize, and began furiously typing on his phone. You snorted at his response, batting him lightly on the chest.

“Oh please, Levi, you’re the one that kissed me. You’re so cute when you’re confident, by the way.” Levi’s typing slowed to a stop at your words, his cheeks flaring to life once again. He refused to look at you, his eyes staying focused on his phone screen as he tried to finish what he was typing.

“Whatever, it’s not my fault you teased me like that.” He spoke, trying to sound as confident as possible, although you knew he was freaking out on the inside. He blew a strand of hair out of his eyes, the arm he had wrapped around you tightening slightly. He was embarrassed for sure, but you found it all the cuter.

Peeking at his phone, you caught a brief glance of what Levi was typing and had to suppress a laugh.

You guys aren’t gonna believe but totally just kissed a super cute waifu! LMAO!

You didn’t know what a “waifu” was or why it was a “LMAO” moment, but it didn’t really bother you.

Leviathan really was the cutest.

[intrepidmare]

JAIME x BRIENNE FIC EXCHANGE RECOMMENDATIONS

Well, I have read about half of the fics in the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange and these are my favorites so far. Seriously, guys, if you haven't read any of these stories already, you must! It's incredible how much talent is in this fandom. 

PS: I don't know/couldn't find everyone's Tumblr, either because they have a different username than on ao3 or don't have a blog here. If you recognize someone else's or your own work that I didn't @, please let me know and I'll edit it 😊

Let me begin with the fics with a love that transcends time and death.

(The first is the story that was written for me!! Please, guys, go, read it, and give some love to the extremely talented writer that came up with it! Words fail me to explain how amazing this fic is. Go read it and then you'll thank me for the rec.)

This is where we start again by @forbiddenfantasies1    

Explicit | chapters 8/8 | 40.7k words | past life au, modern setting, canon compliant

Brienne and Jaime had never met, but when they come together to work on a new project, they realize their connection may have been generations in the making.

Or in which Jaime and Brienne meet, begin having flashbacks to their ancestors lives, and are forced to figure out where they went wrong before they can determine how to make it right.

This life and the next by atomsandfairies    

Teen and up | chapters 6/6 | 8.2k words | historical setting, modern au

“Do you ever wonder how old our souls are? How many times we have missed and met? How many times we have come together?”

The questions have turned themselves over in her again and again, as long as they’ve been together, before he’s asked, before they’d even found each other.

There is a familiarity between them that seems too old for their time together.

Angstfest addicts, these are for you. Get ready to get beaten with feels. Don't worry, despite heartbreak along the way, all ends well.

My honor in your hands by @aviss    

General | one-shot | 2.8k words | hurt/comfort, missing scene, book canon

Jaime lasts the better part of a day before the silence gets to him.

By hearts and hands made fast by anonymous  

Mature | chapters 4/? | 10.1k words | 8x04 canon divergence, secret marriage 

»But he’d held her wrist even then, thumb stroking, Marry me, he’d said, marry me and never acknowledge it if you do not wish, but marry me as I should have married you that night and every other. If I’m to die, he’d said (with her, he had not), let me die as your husband.«

A grand romantic gesture has repercussions neither Jaime nor Brienne had foreseen.

Lies in the darkness by aleighcarlisle    

Mature | one-shot | 4.4k words | angst, hurt/comfort

"Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."

Man With a heartbeat by @sigilbroken        

Explicit | chapters 5/5 | 25.5k words | modern au

Angst is not your cup of tea? No problem. You should try the following. Only laughter, happy feelings ahead.

This one last thing by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight

Mature | One-shot | 13.3k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD, bed-sharing

Most tasks needed of a knight, he has been able to adapt to with only one hand, but he struggles with striking flint in order to start a fire. It would be easier if she was here.

Jaime and Brienne journey to the Vale.

What loves you back by @bookishpower    

Teen and up | one-shot | 11k words | fairytale-ish, post-canon

A retelling, and a continuation. Jaime learns the great lesson of his life.

That Would Be Enough by forpeaches (bluecarrots)

Mature | One-shot | 2.2k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD

Jaime, pining.

The unwitting third wheel by @nightreaderenigma (I should've known this was you!)  

Mature | chapters 4/4 | 17.8 k words | post-ADWD, canon compliant

Whilst recovering on the Quiet Isle, Podrick develops a crush on his mentor and heroine, Lady Brienne. The only hiccup in his bubble of infatuation is their new travelling companion – Ser Jaime Lannister. Because even though M’Lady Ser and the Golden Knight argue, there seems to be a bond between them he can’t quite place…

Warm by @angel-deux-writes      

Teen and up | one-shot | 13.5k words | canon divergence

Before the battle against the dead, Jaime volunteers for a routine patrol with Brienne to try and get some time to talk with her about why she has been avoiding him since he arrived at Winterfell. When a storm catches them unexpectedly when they're still far from the castle, they find a cave to hole up in for the night.

Way enough by laihiriel

Mature | chapters 3/5 | 10.8k words | modern setting, sports au

Brienne had forgotten how much she loved being out on the water. Joining the local boathouse and sitting in a scull again after her accident was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Because of you (i took my time to come around) by Weboury 

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 14.7k words | Modern setting, road trip, bed-sharing

Jaime, curator at the Tully Museum, wants to spend more time with Brienne, and maybe finally work around telling her how he feels about her. When Brienne, a historian, is tasked with retrieving the legendary sword Widow’s Wail from King’s Landing, Jaime thinks it’s the perfect time to put a plan in motion, only to find himself with Brienne and his cousin Cleos on an awkward road trip across the Riverlands. And then a goat shows up.

Kaleidoscope sky by allison_wonderland      

General | one-shot | 1k | modern au, carnivals

A terrible day, an unexpected stop, and drifting closer together.

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant        

Explicit | one-shot  | 18.8 k words | modern au, enemies to friends to lovers

Backpfeifengesicht

(German) n. a face badly in need of a fist

See pictured: Jaime Lannister.

Brienne, Jaime and the Accidental marriage by @angel-deux-writes  

Teen and up | One-shot | 10k words | modern setting, reporter au 

Best friends, co-workers, and roommates Brienne and Jaime were supposed to head to Greywater Watch to cover a local festival for the newspaper at which they both work. They were NOT supposed to get married while they were there.  

Those who seek to find by @ice-connoisseur  

Teen and up | one-shot | 22.3k words | Jumanji au

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

In better light by winterkill   

Mature | one-shot | 17.7k words | canon divergence, post-ASOS

Perhaps Cersei was right, and every ounce of sense and bravery Jaime possessed was lost with his hand. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. He really said that to her? Brienne latched onto the sentiment like a hunting hound to the scent of its quarry. 

Before dawn, Jaime rises from his bed, wide awake and with a sense of renewed purpose.

I’m going to go with her.

If you're looking for adventures a little outside of the law, check these out  

Codename: kingslayer by libkat 

Mature | one-shot | 2.4k words | modern au, thief au

The world's greatest jewel thief is after his biggest score when he encounters his toughest opponent, who might also be the love of his life.

The Knight and the thief By @ddagent (this is the only one I guessed the author right. I knew it was you, Kelly) 

Teen and up | one-shot | 3.6k words | Modern au, burglar au, hurt/comfort

Jaime Lannister is rich, handsome – and a jewel thief. His next target is the home of Brienne Tarth, where he might finally find something worth stealing.

Last but not least, for those who like to hang out with creatures of the night, this one is for you

Into the spider's web by @jailynnW   

Teen and up | one-shot | 4.5k words | vampire au

Jaime has been a Vampire for centuries, dancing in and out of the grasp of his hunter. Brienne is tasked with taking down the Kingslayer. A mission that brings her more than she bargained for...

Hmm, it doesn't look bad that I'm going to do shameless self-promotion now that I've recommended the work of others, right? You know what? I don't care if it does. So here it is the one I wrote 😊

Made for you by me (Mare9548 on Ao3)

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 9.6k words | modern setting, arranged marriage

Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.

I'll come back later with more recs once I've gone through the rest of the amazing stories in the collection.

+

More recs

[princecupcakee]

Park Bench | Reddie

Read on AO3

Rating: E

Pairing: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 3,320

Chapter: 2/8

Past Chapters: Chapter 1 (AO3)

Next Chapters: Chapter 3 (AO3), Chapter 4 (AO3)

Summary: Recently divorced and ‘incapable of love’, Eddie Kaspbrak moves to Los Angeles for work and a small, small hope of a fresh start. Broken up and never dated again, Richie Tozier tries to get back into love with help from his love of music. Quickly meeting eyes and one concert later, they think that maybe love isn’t that bad. So they try it one more time.

Chapter 2: What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?, What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t? & Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast 

Tags/Warnings: Angst / Unhappy Ending / theres only one sex scene but this is explicit anyway / Bisexual Richie Tozier / Gay Eddie Kaspbrak / Post-Divorce / Implied/Referenced Cheating / Inspired By Remembering Sunday (All Time Low) / Inspired by The Book Ninja by Ali Berg / Implied/Referenced Child Abuse / Implied/Referenced Abuse / Implied/Referenced Manipulation

Tag-list: @richietoaster​, @s-s-georgie​, @mikeuris​, @gazebobullshit​, @that-weird-girls-blog​, @tozierking​​​, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @s-onora​, @bellarosewrites​, @lermanslogan​, @ambitiousskychild​, @ghostnebula​, @vanillaredvelvet​,

(Ask if you wanna be on the tag-list!!)

Chapter 2

What If Eddie Kaspbrak Was?

He loves Beverly, he really does, but right now, in this gigantic crowd of people, he hates her. Really, really hates her. He thinks that everything and everyone (mildly excluding Ben, Beverly, Bill, Mike, and Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie) is out to kill him. Two groups of teenagers tried to sell him drugs, or something —he wouldn’t know. He ran away before they could say anything.

It was loud, and hot, and made Eddie, really, really uncomfortable. As much as he tried to avoid the touches of every person jumping around to whatever incomprehensible song was being shouted —yes, he meant shouted — it was too cramped. “You okay there?” Eddie heard a voice behind him ask, loudly. As he looked in that direction, Eddie decided that speaking would be useless, so he simply shook his head. He let Mr. cute-Hawaiian-shirt guy-with-huge glasses-who’s-name-is-apparently-Richie or, simply, Richie, take his hand and lead him out. “You looked really uncomfortable,” Richie smiled, laughing a bit.

“Uh, yeah, don’t do that well with big crowds and everything,” Eddie shrugged, attempting to look ‘cool.’

Richie laughed, “Lets go.”

“But, the concert?”

“I’ve seen ‘em before,” Richie shook his head, “I’ll take you back home, its pretty late anyway.”

“Thanks,” Eddie smiled as he took Richie’s outstretched hand.

“Where is your place?” Richie asked him, crossing the pedestrian.

“I uh, live with Ben and Bev.”

“That mansion? Well, I guess when the husband is an architect and the wife is a designer you get the Buckingham fucking Palace.” Eddie laughed at that (as much as he tried to hide it.)

“But, yeah, I’m staying at Ben and Bev’s while I’m here.”

“While you’re here?” Richie nods

“I don’t live in LA, I’m from New York,” Eddie replied.

“I didn’t think you were from here,” Richie smiled, walking backward to face Eddie.

“That’s dangerous.”

“And thats,” Richie points at Eddie “no fun.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, moving away from the topic, “Its like you guys have your own planet here,” he says, scanning the scenery.

“Says the New Yorker,” Richie said sarcastically.

Eddie gave him a questioning look, trying to hide a smile. “You know, all the big pretty buildings and broadway, and all the big movies,” Richie jokes in a horrible Brooklyn accent.

“Don’t-don’t do that,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Thats my career.” Richie grinned walking into the subway.

Eddie ignored that, “I thought LA was all cars?” He asked.

“It is. I’m doing a kind of project thing though,” Richie smiles talking Eddie’s hand. That slightly throwing Eddie off. “See?” Richie points to a vinyl (yes, Eddie learned the word) with their intertwined fingers.

“I don’t think I understand,” Eddie says looking at Richie.

“I don’t think you need to,” Richie winks, seating Eddie further from the vinyl.

“For a comedian, you’re not funny.”

“Come to one of my shows then. Got one tomorrow night.” Richie winks.

“Sure.”

Richie stops himself before he says ‘its a date.’

“Where did you go?” Beverly asked Eddie as he walked into the kitchen where the rest of the group was standing.

“I went back here,” Eddie says, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room as he holds back a ‘and kind of got a date. Kind of. Well, no it isn’t a date. I’m just gonna watch his show-’

“Richie ‘went back here,’ too?”

“Oh- no, he just… it was really late and he-he walked and rode the train with me back here.” Eddie replied. Ben, Beverly, Bill, and Mike all exchanged looks while he wasn’t looking. “I uh- speaking of Richie though, what does he even do?” He asked, trying to be subtle. Keyword: trying.

Ben tried to hide a laugh, “Besides working at the shop he does some comedy, I thought we told you already?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh anyway, does he even have shows?”

Deciding that he didn’t want this conversation to last too long since Eddie would never bring up what he really wants to say, “He’s got a show tomorrow n-night, I think,” Bill says looking at Ben and Beverly, “Think we can watch it?”

“Totally, its at a bar not too far from here,” Ben smiles.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie says quickly, thankful that his friends ‘didn’t’ notice how much he wanted to go.

~~~

Eddie was alone on Sunday morning, tired after the concert the night before, —despite not being there for half of it—and he woke up at around 10. His four other momentary housemates were out for the day on whatever they were planning on doing on a Sunday morning in Los Angeles —he wondered what there is to do. Which made Eddie feel painfully single, but also made him feel a little better. An abnormal creek came from downstairs he shut the door to his bedroom, ‘I must’ve just imagined it, I need coffee.’

A loud crash sound rang inside the house and followed Eddie to the first floor. He ran into the kitchen, grabbed the first thing he could find, and rushed toward the direction of the sound, prepared to hit. “Holy fuck, please no!” Richie shouted, hands above his head, dropping the coat rack he was trying to put straight back up. Eddie dropped the pan in his hands and sighed, relieved. “What the fuck is this? Tangled?” Richie laughed, breathlessly.

“Asshole. I thought there was some, I don’t know, a psychopathic- killer- clown that broke into the house out to kill me.”

“I- I’m not even gonna fucking ask.”

Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes, ”why are you here anyway?”

“Just picking up something, what are you doing here?” Richie asked, ‘well shit. Now I look like an idiot.’

“Told you. I’m staying here.” Eddie answered returning the pan to the kitchen.

“Uh, right,” Richie awkwardly said, wanting to fill the silence. As much as he wanted to ask, ‘are you coming to my show tonight?’ He didn’t and instead, “so, how’s your mom doing? She okay after last night?”

“Ew. That’s disgusting,” Eddie said his face scrunching up, “I, uh, I’m going.”

As if he read Richie’s mind he clarified, “I’m going to your show.”

“Neat.” Richie smiled widely, “uh no. Not neat. No! Not that is it’s ‘not neat’ for you to come to my show, I mean not neat. Like, not the word ‘neat’. Jeez. Uh—“

“Yeah, neat.” Eddie laughed, “weren’t you going to get something?” He knew he was winning this.

“Oh right, uh,” The man in glasses began to walk towards the library —it wasn’t actually a library just an extra room Ben and Beverly filled with books and music things (Eddie honestly didn't know what they were). Again, their house is fucking like a mansion— and Richie came out with vinyl in his hands, “they borrowed it,” He said shaking it.

“Have you heard it before?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says walking closer.

“Lets go then,” Richie smirks going back into the room, putting in the vinyl. ‘Sittin' in the kitchen, a house in Macon’ rang the player, ‘Loretta's singing on the radio’

"Smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon” Richie sung.

“What is that?” Eddie asked.

“‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’, Lucinda Williams,” Richie replied just as the same line played.

“What kind of song even is that? Its all guitar but not-”

“First, its country and rock. Alt-Country. Second, not all songs with guitars have to sound like ‘The Carpal Tunnel Of Love’ or something,”

“I don’t even wanna what that is,” Eddie rolled his eyes, looking at the player —he didn’t actually know what it was called.

“You live under a rock. Not even a single rock— you-you live in a fucking cave.”

“Half the people I know don’t know what that is.” But Richie was already picking up a new vinyl — ‘is that a fucking sheep?’ Eddie wondered once he saw the cover.

Richie set the —‘what the fuck is that’ Eddie thought— on a place over the vinyl. “We take sour sips from life's lush lips” Richie sung, smiling at Eddie.

“Its so loud. What the fuck is that?” Richie just kept on singing.

“Whoa-oh, we're so miserable and stunning,” Richie sang. As, much as Eddie didn’t want to admit it, he sounded amazing.

“This is so loud. I’m not doing this,” Eddie said walking out of the room. The song being loud was the reason, he promised. It wasn’t because he knew he would lose it if he kept going, it was just loud.

“Hey, what? Eddie, wait!” Richie said stopping the music and tripping over himself to get to the door. “Have you been walking through life with earplugs on? Jeez,” Richie checked his watch, “shit, I’m gonna head back to the store. I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie thought his heart stopped for a moment, and then he remembered he was going to Richie’s show. Nothing more. Because it shouldn’t be anything more. “Yeah,” Eddie said, watching as Richie walked out the door.

~~~

Eddie was alone in his room Sunday night, (or Monday morning? He couldn’t tell) tired of laughing, tired of being so far away from Richie. His set was amazing (not that Eddie would tell him that.) So maybe he was feeling something. Maybe he was feeling a lot. That doesn’t mean he must fall into Richie's arms. Or should fall into his arms —he thinks that Richie definitely can his hands and shoulders and just his arms are so big. He knows he shouldn’t fall in love again. The last time didn’t do well for him, and he had known her for years before they even started dating. And much longer before they got married. He shouldn’t be feeling this. But what if he was?

What If Richie Tozier Wasn’t?

As he walked out of the door from the Marsh’s house, he headed for the trains once again. Something in his head was pulling him away, not wanting him to continue the project, but what if its what’s good for him? What if Eddie didn’t like him the same way? This might continue to be like Connor. I mean, they saw each other in the store and started talking after ditching a concert? Is that how love was supposed to go? How is love supposed to go? On the other hand, Ben and Bev seem to like him. He trusts Ben and Bev. He trusts Eddie. But what if Eddie shouldn’t be trusted? This was something all too fragile.

Richie walked into the train, looking down on the vinyl he played Eddie. He took out the Sharpie from his pocket prepared to write on ‘Car Wheels On A Gravel Road’ but then his phone let out a ‘ping’ He opened his phone to a group chat with Stan, Patty, Ben, and Bev called: ‘The Four Hets Who Help With The Vinyl Project Thing’ —Richie was also surprised that it fits there.

Patty: Good luck on your date today!!! Stan: Yeah, have fun, rich. Ben: Tell us everything once its done :) Ben: By the way, Stan and Patty, we’re almost there. Stan: See you guys. Bev: Thats great and I absolutely love that for you. But I thought you were with [redacted] [Bev Deleted a Message.]

Richie didn’t catch what Beverly had written, but if it was deleted it probably wasn’t important. Richie opened the mail app on his phone to see the email that got him this date again. He had gotten it the day after he left Hot Fuss on the train, and he, Patty, and Stan had eaten out that night.

Subject: I found your vinyl From: Adam Wilson <@AdAmWIlsOn> To: Richie Toz <@Remembering_Records> 

  ‘Hey, Richie. My name’s Adam. I found the Hot Fuss album you left on the train a few weeks ago. I used to love listening to The Killers but work took so much of my time that I didn’t get to listen to them much anymore, but when I listened to your album, I felt like I finally relaxed, you know? I absolutely love Mr. Brightside but Somebody Told Me is still running through my head (Smile Like You Mean it doesn’t even need to be said. Its perfect. Oh man but then there’s also All These Things That I’ve Done. The Killers are just perfect.)

I should probably tell you somethings about me. I’m a doctor. I moved here from Manchester, UK, around a week ago to start a new job. I also volunteer at animal shelters in my spare time.

If I don’t sound like a serial killer and you’re interested, I really would love a date.

P.S. Mr. Brightside or Miss Atomic Bomb?

Richie had replied to him simply and fairly quickly (he chose Mr. Brightside.) He was heading there now, over to a restaurant downtown. He looked back down at the vinyl in his hands, just as he remembered Eddie smile and laugh awkwardly when he didn’t know what was going on. There was something about Eddie. Richie had no clue what it was, or what it made him feel, but there was definitely something there. He’s never felt this way before. Not with his friends, not with his hookups, not with Connor. It isn’t that he didn’t like it. He just had to be careful with it.

On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t leave them in the subway. He has time to bring them home first, right?

~~~

Richie walked into the restaurant, almost an hour late. By the time he had gotten home, he and Adam were already supposed to be meeting up, since the train he was previously on was going in the opposite direction. He then decided that riding his car would be faster than taking the trains, but the traffic was unbearable. He had taken a few wrong turns heading to the restaurant, too. Not that he didn’t know the place, there was a concert a few streets away that blocked some of the streets. So, exactly 53 minutes and 20 seconds late for his date, he stood there. As expected, Adam wasn’t there anymore.

Richie walked into the backseat of his car, kicking the chair in front of him. Of course, he messed up his first date in years. Fucking years. The one guy was interested in him, now gone, because he- what was he even doing? If he just dropped the two pieces of vinyl, he could’ve gotten this date and would’ve had two or more possible other ones. He wouldn’t blame Eddie for this failed date. He couldn’t. That was all on him.

At least he picked a restaurant close to the bar he was doing his show at. Richie wiped at his tears and climbed into the front of the car. Driving down a few streets, he walked up to the ‘Golden Rookie’ sign at the front of his favourite bar. Taking a deep breath, and willing himself not to puke, he jogged backstage to see Riley rolling her eyes at him.

“Failed date,” Richie smiled jogging on to the stage.

“Hello and goodnight, everybody!” he began, earning applause from a few of the regulars. "So, I checked Twitter this morning and..." he began slightly walking around the stage. He scanned the room, and there, far at the back was Eddie Kaspbrak, slightly smiling at the stage. Eddie was still in his work clothes, a suit and tie. His grin somehow both left and widened the moment they caught eyes.

When Richie got home that night, he thought that his set was the best one he’s done in a while. He wondered why.

Richie Tozier And Eddie Kaspbrak Have Breakfast Eddie wondered what that sound was. It was loud, he didn’t think it was loud for anyone else. It sounded- it sounded like if a pebble hit glass without breaking it. Weird. Eddie looked around the room, the continuous clattering waking him up. “What the fuck is that?” He muttered, walking over to the window. Richie Tozier was standing outside his window, waving at him like a maniac. “What the fuck are you doing here? Its the middle of the night, Richie!” Eddie whispered loudly (he wondered how that worked) once he opened his window.

“Its actually Tuesday morning,” Richie smiled, “C’ mere!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “go to the front fucking door.”

He changed clothes quickly, trying not to look like he fixed up before seeing Richie. What was he doing? Its the middle of the- its Monday morning, and he's going to go with a stranger to who knows where. He's probably going insane. This was probably a dream, why would this happen if he were awake? Though, a part of him wished it wasn't a dream.

Down the stairs and out the door on to the porch, “What the fuck Richie? Its,” he looked at his phone, “its five in the morning.” He saw a guitar around Richie’s shoulders, (huge shoulders) deciding not to ask.

Richie hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we’re getting breakfast,” Richie said as he locks fingers with Eddie.

“Its five in the morning,” Eddie repeated.

“We’re getting breakfast.”

“At… five in the fucking morning?”

“Yup. There’s a nice diner somewhere here, we can walk.”

“I hope you know I think you’re crazy. The sun isn’t even up.” Richie just nodded.

The two walked to the diner together in silence. Eddie wasn’t uncomfortable, just, surprised. There was a ‘comfortable’ silence between the two, Eddie never really had that before. He was always used to the controlling words, and reminders and the arguing with Myra. He didn’t see his friends much because of work, so when they would meet up, there was never silence. And now there’s Richie, who he barely knows anything about, holding his hand at a time too early, as they walk towards a diner in a city Eddie doesn’t even live in. ‘Its nice’ he thinks, as they walk into the diner. It surprises Eddie, how much it looks like the diners in movies. But everything (and everyone- some more than others) in Los Angeles surprise him. ‘Most things surprise me’, he guesses, ‘I don’t go out much.’ But he knew better than that.

The two took their orders hands still intertwined under the table. “Why are we here?” Eddie asked, now sitting across from Richie.

“Ask that again in,” Richie looked down at his watch, “In 32 minutes, and 19 seconds.”

“Thats weird, but you aren’t going to tell me anything about that until then.”

“Right. So, lets talk about something else. How’d you like my show?”

“You like your praise. Its not that bad.”

“Just ‘not that bad’?”

“Yup, just ‘not that bad.’”

“I had a clear view of you from the stage. I didn’t know you could smile, Eds.”

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’ Not my name.”

“Whatever you say, Spaghetti,” Richie said as Eddie rolled his eyes, “Do you have work today?”

“Actually, no. Bill and Mike are doing all I need today since I covered them a few days ago. Why?”

“Mind if I borrowed you for the rest of the day?” Richie smirked. (Eddie wanted to hate that smirk, he really did, he just couldn’t.)

“Yes. I do mind. I need a break.”

“Exactly, I’m giving you the world’s best break.”

Eddie sighed, “Please don’t. I’m scared.”

“Come on, I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t.” He did. “You know what, whatever. Just- why am I here?”

“Look out the window,” Richie nodded.

“Look out the- what?” Eddie said, confused. He turned his head and, "Woah."

Eddie saw, through the trees and the buildings on the horizon, a soft sunrise. Whoever painted the sky in the early mornings, Eddie praised them. “Its pretty, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered, looking over at Richie, who was grinning widely.

“You should see the sunset after it rains. Its beautiful,” Richie held back, ‘kinda like you’.

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 9

hey there! quick update. chapter 10 IS posted on ao3, but it won’t be getting a tumblr mirror because it’s not really plot stuff, just stupid things i wanted to share. so follow the link on my blog if you want to check that out, or just tune back in for chapter 11 instead

Chapter 9: The Reckoning

Tommy gawks at the destruction wrought upon the pavilion, and without thinking he brings his hands to cover his mouth. Never in all his life has he seen his home so damaged. Some pillars are missing entire chunks! A few of the scorch marks are still smoking!

Where is everyone?

Drawing in a deep breath, Tommy places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can.

Sure enough, it takes a bit, but Sunkist comes running from the direction of his house. The first trick Tommy ever taught her, and it still works like a charm! He’s never been so relieved to see her before, at least until she tackles him to the ground with licks.

“Ow,” Tommy whimpers out, feeling the pain in his bruised shoulders.

Sunkist seems to recognize his discomfort, but she keeps sniffing his face. Yeah, she can definitely tell his nose is fucked.

“Oh, Sunkist,” Tommy sits up and hugs her. “You would- you won’t believe what happened down there today.”

“Tommy?”

He breaks away from Sunkist, and holy shit, Bubby doesn’t look good. He’s very clearly just stumbled in, leaning on one of the intact pillars for support. Tommy almost cries out for him, but Bubby cuts him off.

“I thought I heard you call for Sunkist,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

In an instant, Tommy goes from concerned for his family’s well-being to seeing red.

“What- what am I doing!?” Tommy places a hand on his chest, offended beyond belief. He struggles to push himself up with his other arm, the thrumming pain causing him to wobble slightly, but he does stand. “What have you guys been doing?! I’ve been- I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all afternoon!”

Bubby narrows his eyes at Tommy, and for a split second he glances behind himself, back towards Benrey and Gordon’s home.

“Where’s the kid?” he asks, as if noticing for the first time Joshua isn’t present.

“He, uh. Darnold’s watching him.” Tommy frowns. Well, now that he knows things are somewhat okay up here, he turns back to his dog. “Actually, Sunkist? Could you- could you head down and keep an eye on them f-for me?” He’d appreciate something divine watching over them for a bit.

Sunkist barks in response, trotting into the Viewing Pool. She disappears with a flash, and Tommy feels like he has one less thing to worry about.

Before Tommy can ask a single question, Bubby has already turned around, gesturing for him to follow. Catching up, Tommy notices that Bubby’s legs are stiff as he walks, as if he has to mentally will them to bend.

“What- Bubby, what happened?” Tommy asks.

Bubby sighs. “Come on. I’m sure everyone is gonna want to see you.”

Wow, this is a whole new level of brushing off! Bubby’s not addressing the fact that wherever he looks, Tommy sees signs of a fight in the place he’s known as home his whole life. He really didn’t think it could get this bad.

But then again, what was Tommy supposed to think? They never told him anything.

They make it to Gordon and Benrey’s house, the door to which Bubby pushes open without knocking. Tommy almost calls him rude for it, but then he catches sight of the scene inside.

Coomer is immediately on Bubby, lecturing him for sneaking out while he’s so fragile. Tommy spies his dad in the corner, his gaze focused intently on the couch. And on that couch sits Benrey, Gordon passed out and laying in his lap. All of them look roughed up.

“Stop, Harold.” Bubby pushes his fretting husband’s hands away. “I’m fine, see?” He pauses, for the briefest of moments. “Look who I found.”

And just like that, everyone’s attention is turned to Tommy in the doorway. But Tommy’s stuck on the one person who can’t look at him, his thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘Gordon isn’t moving why isn’t he moving is he okay what happened-’

A pair of hands squish his face, and Tommy realizes it’s his dad. He’s looking down at him with such a sad look, and Tommy’s not sure if it’s intentional, but he stands right in front of him, blocking his view.

“Oh, oh dear, Tommy,” Gman says. “What happ..ened to your, nose?”

Tommy’s stunned expression turns to a glare. “Wh- my nose!? You want- you want to talk about my nose?!”

Gman obviously wasn’t expecting a hostile reaction to that, releasing his son’s face and backing away. It does little to calm Tommy.

“Do you- you have any idea how worried I’ve been!?” Tommy shouts. “You weren’t answering anything! And I come back, and- and everything is fucked up, and you’re just- just pretending nothing happened!?”

Bubby and Coomer no longer meet his eyes, but Gman just stares. Tommy continues, “Did- did any of you even check your phones!? I fucking fought a Skeleton today, and it-” All of Tommy’s fury vasnishes in an instant. Just remembering the empty feeling he got looking into that thing’s eye sockets is enough to twist his stomach. “It- s-so much about that was- it tried something-”

Tommy’s legs give out. He can feel his father by his side, holding onto him, and he thinks Coomer is there too. But his head is racing and he’s gripping at it as though he could slow it down somehow. “It- it was so cold, and everything was- was moving except me, and I couldn’t think, and if it wasn’t for-”

“It tried to possess you, bro,” Benrey finally speaks up. “Same as what it did to Gordon.” He runs a hand through Gordon’s hair.

Tommy blinks. “W-what?”

“I mean, I guess the… the cat’s out of the bag, or whatever.” Benrey sighs. “Skeletons possess people. Us mostly.”

“You’re- you’re joking?”

Bubby, who’s taken to leaning on one of the walls, shakes his head. “He isn’t.”

“Perhaps this conversation is best saved for when our friend over there wakes up, hm?” Coomer points at Gordon.

It takes Tommy a moment to process it all. ‘When Gordon wakes up.’ His dad pulls him to his chest, and making sure that he avoids his nose, Tommy presses into him with his forehead. He’s searching for a word, something he’s feeling, and then he realizes it’s trusted.

He feels trusted.

☆○☆○☆

“Your nose looks fucked,” Benrey comments from across the kitchen table. Coomer had convinced him to abandon his vigil over Gordon in favor of getting something to eat, but so far all he had done was make a few tonedeaf remarks Tommy’s way.

“Uh-huh,” Tommy responds, more preoccupied with his phone.

Darnold ♡: Wait they don’t know that I know?

Tommy: I’m not sure how to tell them???

Darnold ♡: I mean, it sounds like you’ve done enough “telling” for today Darnold ♡: So maybe don’t?

Tommy: Yeah? Then what? Tommy: They’re gonna be teasing you next time you meet!! :(

Darnold ♡: Well that just makes THEM look stupid, right?

Whatever stupid thing Benrey is about to say next is interrupted by a groan from the next room over. They both meet eyes, before scrambling out of the kitchen.

Tommy: Oh hang on Gordon’s awake!!!!!! :D

Benrey beats Tommy by a longshot, sliding to his knees in front of the couch and pulling Gordon into a hug. This only serves to agitate him.

“Ugh, Benrey!” Gordon complains, and it’s the most emotion Tommy’s heard from Gordon in a week. He almost cries.

Benrey isn’t deterred, only hugs Gordon tighter as he begins to ramble. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice I should have seen it I’m sorry Gordon I’m so sorry-”

Gordon sits up, Benrey still clutching him like a koala and apologizing. He barely seems to register it, though, instead bringing a hand to his head and wincing. “My head is fucking killing me,” he mumbles.

“We’re all hurting, asshole, get in line,” Bubby snarks. He’s sitting with his legs crossed on the other side of the room.

Coomer, who had previously been sitting next to Bubby, has made his way to the couch. He places a hand on Gordon’s back and smiles at him. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Gordon!”

Tommy can’t help it anymore. With a wide smile he jumps onto the couch next to Gordon, pulling him (and by extension Benrey) into a hug. “Thank- thank goodness you’re okay!” And yup, Tommy can definitely feel himself crying now, but he doesn’t really care! Gordon’s back!

Having gotten a few more of his faculties in order, Gordon starts to realize that things aren’t exactly normal. Like, for example, everyone around him is injured to varying degrees. “What- why do you guys look like shit?” he asks.

Benrey still hasn’t broken out of his longform apology to make any stunning rebuttals, so Tommy just answers him. “I got- I got punched in the face by a Skeleton,” he nods.

“Holy shit, Tommy,” Gordon actually processes his appearance for the first time. “Is that broken? I can-” He worms his hand out from the hug mess, and before Tommy can protest that he really shouldn’t be using his powers right now, the pain in his face is gone in a flash.

Sometimes it pays to be friends with a god with a minor healing domain. Not when he heals you instead of resting like he should be doing, but other, more fun times.

Tommy gasps. “Gordon! No! You should- you shouldn’t be blessing people, right now!”

“I also got punched in the face by a Skeleton!” Bubby points at his bruised cheek. “The Skeleton was just inside Gordon.”

Oh. Well. He just said it, didn’t he?

“The… the what?” Gordon questions, clearly distressed.

“B-Bubby!” Tommy yells at him. “Why did you say that!?”

“What? We’re sharing things today!” Bubby gestures to himself. “I, for one, would want someone to tell me if I punched them like that!”

“The Skeleton was… inside me?” Gordon stammers out. Slowly, Tommy slinks his arms away from him, and he can see Benrey doing the same.

Gman steps in. “What Bubby, is. Saying, is that. You’ve been, possess...ed, by a. Skeleton, for a whole week.”

“What?! No, they- they can do that!?” Gordon shouts. Tommy thinks he’s about two seconds away from having to stop Gordon from pulling his own hair, when…

“They did it to me.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Benrey to speak up again, not since he revealed the fact Skeletons could possess people in the first place. But here he was, staring straight down at the ground, sitting on his hands.

“Um, we… We knew the Skeletons and their cult were bad for a long time,” Benrey continues. “But we didn’t… know. How bad.” He sighs, looking towards Tommy and Gordon. “I think if we told you guys, probably wouldn’t suck as much as it has. You wouldn’t have been hurt, Gordon.”

Gman places a hand on his son’s back as Benrey talks. Bubby has found his way back to Coomer’s side. All of them have grim expressions on their face, listening to a story to which they know the ending.

“So, uh. Two-thousands years ago. I went down to look at them, and they-” Benrey scratches the side of his face. “I don’t remember much after that, but they got me.”

Benrey draws his knees to his chest. “They made me do a lot of things. I didn’t… World got- got fucked. Society two time, second one didn’t like magic so much.”

Things suddenly start making a lot more sense. It’s like a missing puzzle piece gets clicked into place in Tommy’s mind, or a lightswitch gets turned on, or something like that. They haven’t been hiding this out of malice, or messing with the new guys, it was-

Gordon reaches out, grabbing onto one of Benrey’s hands. He cups his husband’s face gently, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Hey, Benrey, look at me,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.” Benrey launches forward, clinging onto Gordon, and Gordon holds him.

It was fear.

Tommy turns to the others. He has a feeling Benrey is done talking. “But… but why didn’t they do anything this time?” he asks them. “If- if they wanted to destroy things, why wait?”

“Well Tommy, if I had to guess,” Coomer hypothesizes. “We were able to knock Benrey back to normal relatively easily last time, as well as pummel the Skeletons we did find to the ground. Perhaps they wanted to weaken us from the inside before attempt number two?”

Goodness, this is a lot for Tommy to process right now. A societal-wide reckoning caused by the possession of one of his dearest friends? It’s a little much. He leans back on the couch. Damn it, this must be what Darnold felt like earlier.

“Wait a second,” Gordon suddenly pipes up. “Where the fuck is Joshua?”

Tommy pulls out his phone. “He’s with Darnold. He knows what’s been going on, we’ve been texting. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Gordon sighs, but then he changes his tune. “Wait, he KNOWS?!”

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You Ch. 8

Read on Ao3

Adrien needed a break.

His head slipped off the palm of his hand for the third time that morning, nearly smacking off the desk, and it hadn’t even been an hour since the bell rang. A glance down at his tablet revealed that he hadn’t written anything since the teacher had started her lecture, and the date had scribbled off into one long line as he’d dozed off.

“Dude,” he heard Nino mutter, “Mme. Mendeleiv is about to rip you a new one.”

“Sorry,” Adrien whispered, straightening. “Late night. Early morning.”

“The life of a super model,” Nino teased.

Adrien gave him a half-hearted grin. His friend didn’t know the half of it. 

He hadn’t been able to sleep for days now, not since Red had shown up. Hawkmoth hadn’t attacked since that last monstrous akuma and everyone was on edge. If Adrien had had to guess, he’d think Hawkmoth was angry, and that had sunk a stone of worry so deep in his gut he’d been unable to dislodge it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been just a little too late that day, the last time he’d seen her…

Adrien turned his thoughts away from that fight and back to the matter at hand. He and Red had been patrolling, and as much as he hated to admit it, when he wasn’t resenting her, he was grateful for the companionship. She seemed to understand he was hurting and didn’t push him when he grew quiet. She appeared to defer to his experience, but she also seemed to want to prove herself, jumping headfirst into battle, totally relentless. More importantly she seemed incredibly adept; he didn’t need to guide her often, almost as though she’d wielded a Miraculous before - a dangerous thought he didn’t let himself pursue, not since all the identities of the holders had been revealed months ago. Besides, he knew his Lady; it was unlikely she’d entrust one of them with the Ladybug Miraculous when their identity was compromised.

He’d pumped Red for more information, but she’d come up drier than a well. All she knew, she insisted, was what the new guardian had told her. 

He’d come up empty on that front as well. Over the days frustration had begun to eat away at his concentration, but no new leads had presented themselves. He felt trapped, and while it was something he was used to, the chains still stung.

Then there was the matter of his Lady. 

At the very least, he comforted himself with the knowledge that she was alive and well and waiting for him. Doubt snuck in from time to time - what if her plan had gone wrong and she was in Hawkmoth’s clutches? What if he was being lied to? What if he wasn’t smart enough to find her? - but he quashed it without a second thought. He would do this, if for no other reason than he refused to fail her. None of the rest mattered.

But his memories had yielded very little. He’d spent so much time trying follow their rules, trying not to know her, that now that he needed to, the memories were fuzzy and out of reach. He knew they were there, just barely beyond his grasp, but he hadn’t been able to bring any of them into focus. 

And a small, scared part of him wondered what he’d do when he did find her. He knew someone that amazing wouldn’t just stop stunning him because she’d lost her memories. She’d be who she was with or without them.

But the part of her that had been his friend, his partner, would that all be gone? Would she believe him? Would she not want anything to do with him, with the Miraculous? And how was he supposed to get her memories back? Was it even possible? Or worse, even part of the plan? Maybe all he was supposed to do was find her and give the earrings back. Maybe getting her memories back wasn’t part of the deal at all.

“Mr. Agreste?”

Adrien nearly fell out of his seat, his stylus dropping to the floor with a clatter. 

“Yes, Ms. Mendeleiv?”

She gestured to the board where a wicked chemical problem was glaring down at him. “Perhaps you’d like to solve?”

“Um, sure,” Adrien said, sliding out from behind his desk. He’d taken two steps when the bell ring, instantly turning the equations he’d been trying to do in his head to smoke. Ms. Mendeleiv scowled but didn’t insist on the problem. Her warning glare, though, came through loud and clear: she better not catch him slacking off again.

“Man, how do you do it?” Nino asked with a grin, shaking his head. “I wish I had your luck.”

“Trust me,” Adrien said as he turned back to the desk. “No, you don’t.”

“That was a monster of a question,” Alya chimed in, slinging an arm around Marinette’s shoulders as she leaned in. “I never would have been able to figure it out without Marinette’s help.”

Marinette blushed, ducking out from her friends’ arm. “It was no biggie.”

“I don’t know, Marinette,” Adrien said with a smile. “I would have looked pretty dumb up there trying to do it on the fly.”

Adrien hid a wince as he began to pack up his bag. He’d meant to check on his friend, but everything had been so chaotic. Once or twice he’d thought of the way she’d jumped in front of him at the set of his shoot, taking the blow for him. It’d been horrifying to watch, and it had made him wonder about the times he’d done the same for Ladybug. He’d always chalked it up to a necessary sacrifice; she was required to save the day, he wasn’t, and that was that. It didn’t matter how they won, as long as they did.

Except he was now painfully aware that it did matter. The pressure, the fear, the panic. Had he put his Lady through all that? He’d chalked it up to strategy, but what if he’d only really succeeded in giving her nightmares?

“You dropped this.”

Adrien’s friends’ chatter died down as he looked up into Chloe’s face. She was holding out his tablet stylus, her bag slung over her shoulder as she headed for the door. Her face was a careful mask, completely devoid of her usual haughtiness - or any other emotion for that matter, like, say, desperation, fear, regret. The emotions that had been there the last time they’d spoken.

Adrien took the stylus without a word. He slipped it into his bag with his tablet and made for the door, leaving his former friend staring after him.

He didn’t know what hurt more: Chloe’s betrayal, or the fact that everyone had been right about her. He knew she was spoiled and selfish, but he also knew that was all she had to protect herself from parents that weren’t always there for her. He could understand that, probably better than anyone - because if she let herself be real, she’d have to face some hard truths she clearly wasn’t ready for. And he’d been willing to let that go, because underneath all that was his first friend, a girl who’d let him in despite all that, who’d made him laugh and stood up for him when he’d needed it most.

But siding with Hawkmoth, stealing the Miracle Box? It had been a step too far. They’d almost lost that day, and it would have been her fault. Ladybug had been right about her. She’d finally done something he couldn’t forgive. 

The conversation resumed around him as Alya complained about the lack of footage for her blog and pretty soon exhaustion set back in, plaguing him through the rest of the day right up until he set foot in his room after school.

“You should sleep, kid,” Plagg said as the bedroom door closed behind them. “You need it.”

“Can’t,” Adrien said, dropping his school bag on the floor. “Patrol time. Besides, that’s when I do my best thinking.”

“It’s not thinking if your brain’s turned to mush,” Plagg argued. “You won’t be able to find anyone if Hawkmoth takes advantage of your weakened state.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Adrien admitted. “I hate just sitting around.”

“I know,” Plagg said, “But she wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.”

“Well I guess we’ll never know,” Adrien snapped, scowling at the open sky beyond his window. “It’s not like she left a note. Claws out!”

Ok. So maybe his resentment wasn’t just reserved for Red or this new guardian. Maybe he couldn’t help but resent his Lady a little, too. 

But she’d left him without so much as an inkling that something was wrong. Without letting him in on the plan. 

Without saying goodbye.

It was just like… well, it was just like when she’d found Fu, learned about the other Miraculous, and kept it from him, leaving him to play tag with akuma’s while she chose other heroes to help them. And he’d let it happen, because he trusted her, and he’d trusted the process, but it had hurt more than it helped, and he had a painful suspicion this was more of the same.

But then…his claws weren’t exactly clean, either. The jokes, the puns, the flirting; she probably hadn’t thought he’d take it seriously. Why else would she give the Miracle box to someone else?

But he knew why. In his heart of hearts, he knew why: because he’d try to stop her. And clearly she believed this was something she needed to do. Then again, that was his Lady. Always carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Hours passed before Chat Noir finally stopped to rest. He’d been avoiding the Eiffel Tower ever since Ladybug’s disappearance, but that was where he found himself when he missed her so much he couldn’t stand it any more. He prowled the structure as memories of them racing to the landmark and chasing each other to the top swirled around him. This had been where it all began. Now, this was one of the few places he still felt like she might be real, like he could turn a corner and she’d be there, grinning at him, ‘I win again!’

He stopped at the very top, at what he and Ladybug had called their personal observation deck - a place only they and gutsy maintenance workers could get to. He sank down on the metal grate, legs dangling over the side as he observed the twinkling lights of the city.

This was it. This was where he’d fallen in love with her. He’d said it on that day, the first day, but he’d never known how true it would be. He’d admired the way she thought, her bravery, her unstoppable drive to see justice done. She'd never tired. She’d truly believed they could have won.

He smiled a little to himself. Marinette was like that, too. Maybe that was what had drawn his lady to her, convinced her to give Marinette the mouse Miraculous. 

Marinette. Alya. Nino. Max. Kim. Even him at one point.

She was probably someone that went to his school. Someone he’d passed a million times, someone seen in the hall or the locker room, someone he might have shared a table with at lunch.  Someone, he had to admit, he’d never noticed.

Part of him felt terrible about that, but another part of him was relieved he at least had some course of action to pursue. It was a large pool of candidates, but at least it was something he could narrow down. And, he realized, he could start with people who had been akumatized.

“You’re a lot harder to track down than I thought you’d be.”

Chat Noir spun, lashing out with his baton, but quicker than he could see his assailant stopped it, seizing the end of the pole in his fist. A moment later he recognized the new guardian, Venetian mask and all.

“How did you get up here?” Chat Noir asked, glancing around. No civilian could make the climb, but then, this guy wasn’t just some civilian.

“You finally get me alone without a time limit and that’s the question you ask me?” He dropped down onto the grate beside the hero.

Chat Noir bit back a sarcastic remark. This was for his Lady. He could do this. He might be frustrated, but he needed answers. “Who are you?”

The Venetian mask tilted to one side. “Next.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said, ‘next’,” the guardian said. 

“You can’t just not answer!” Chat Noir yelled, nearly shoving him off the platform. 

“Actually, I can.” The guardian adjusted his jacket, which Chat Noir now saw was a black, over-sized sweater with a large hood that covered his hair and and deep red scrolling designs along the edges. “I follow someone else’s orders. But for now you can call me Salem.”

“Ladybug.” The guardian nodded almost imperceptibly. “So does that mean - I mean, is there a chance then, that she still has her memories? Is she - is she just in hiding?”

The guardian was silent for so long Chat Noir almost thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“I don’t know the extent of her plan,” Salem finally admitted. “There were guidelines when the box was relinquished, rules. I never saw her. I didn’t know she would lose her memory, and I don’t know the extent of the damage done.” 

Hope died in Chat Noir’s chest, but he shoved it away. All it meant was that he was back to square one. That was fine. He could work with that. 

“She didn’t tell you anything else?” he asked. “Any other message for me? A clue? Anything?”

The guardian shrugged. “Just what I told you.”

Chat Noir ran his claws through his hair, trying not to rip it out. “She didn’t tell you anything?! Did she at least say why?”

“Yes, actually,” Salem said. “You remember that akuma, the one from Montparnasse last week?”

“Veritas.” The name still sent chills down Chat Noir’s spine.

“Word on the street is one touch made you spill your guts,” Salem said. “Just blurt out whatever dirty little secrets you might be hiding. Not the most physically adept akuma, but just imagine what a win that would be for Hawkmoth. If not the Miraculous, the names of the ones who held them.”

“We stopped them,” Chat Noir said, but he dread crept along his skin, stole into his heart. “Nothing happened.”

“Did it?” Salem mused. “I hear differently. I hear you came late.”

“It…it happens,” Chat Noir stammered. “She knows that, sometimes it takes some time to get away, to get to the attack - ”

“And you never would have known,” Salem interrupted, “That you didn’t just come late, you came too late. That Veritas had already struck her, and she’d given up one of her most closely-guarded secrets. That Hawkmoth later hunted her down, intent on wringing the rest of the truth from her, and she gave up the Miracle box to protect that secret the only way she knew how - by forgetting it altogether.”

Chat Noir’s chest pounded painfully in his chest. The city spun below him, and he gripped the cold iron grate for all her was worth. “Her identity?”

“Not her identity, Chat Noir,” Salem said, leaning in. “Yours.”

[zombiequincy]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Hela     AGE: 21       CONTACT: IM

CHARACTER(S): Giselle Gewelle, Yumichika Ayasegawa (inactive)

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR:  I have gory Bloodborne au but that one just exists in my head on my lonesome.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English and one very specific Middle Eastern dialect.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc. 

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?:   YES / NO    only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. (i love it all sorry I am quite the mixed bag lmao)

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?:   YES / NO. i gotta know what certain human body parts taste like u know

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. it’s SO BAD FOR ME RN ASGLDKJDJKA i’m very inconsistent i’m so sorry.

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. / a lot of it has more to do w my general writing mood and if the thread im writing catches my interest, and rn im writing a TON of really wonderful and fascinating threads so they’re all super captivating for me and i try to reply asap

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. (i have a lot of stupid shit sorry) 

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: just send me a tumblr instant message, i know it sucks shit but im not comfy releasing my discord w everyone just yet cause i use it for personal use as well. i check tumblr on the daily so if you send me a message chances are i’ll see it and respond!

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER:  i guess just be able to put up with my rambling and stopping and starting, a lot of characterisation choices i do go through various stages and its pretty messy so when i communicate that with others it usually ends up equally messy. just be patient with me please.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?:  i don’t mind! sometimes ppl have more ideas that they want to share first and i’m always super happy to listen to those ideas !! sometimes its nice to have someone with a clear guide or structure and be able to work around that rather than trying to fumble through a plot together.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?:  i try to map out some basic info abt their characters that i otherwise don’t know from their bio or verses and try to pick out points of confrontation or similarities to expand on with giselle that can be used as points for like a starter to happen. its either that or sometimes i have really stupid ideas i just toss out there like ‘LMAO THEYRE BREAKING SHIT AT DISNEYLAND’ and go buck wild from there if the other person is down. i also always try to warn people or get a gauge for what subjects to avoid and steer clear of considering that giselle is a bit of a Freak(tm) and will say and do bad things.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if there’s something giselle did or said that upset you, i would love to know not to repeat it again (since i do still feel pretty new to the rp game, theres still plenty of time for me to make stupid mistakes). if its just a general lack of interest or uncertainty of where the plot should go, then you dont have to tell me i wont take it personally i promise ! 

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: sometimes i can be made uncomfortable by certain things mentioned... it happens but its rare 

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. i don’t want to upset anyone personally and sometimes explaining the ins and outs of my discomfort make things ten times worse so i just. would rather not.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: i am the most nervous person you can meet and my brain is always giving me misinfo abt paranoia and random shit so i having clear concrete communication between two parties abt if something is going wrong or is being received poorly means the world to me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGA1TIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: i need it !! i still feel relatively new to all this and i need to know whats going wrong to improve !! 

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: to help with my confidence in writing! i have v bad anxiety when it comes to sharing my works and i write a lot of other pieces alongside this blog on ao3 and i want to develop my writing skills just in general. when it comes to like the nuts and bolts of why i rp giselle specifically, its mainly to just have fun and have a laugh w my friends who are really awesome quincy writers

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS:  OH SO MANY! ive managed to fulfil a lot of my wishlist threads with like, giselle talking to characters she’s already zombified and i love all that angst but i want to do more stupid shit. i want to make it my personal goal to bully every quincy man and woman on sight. although a REAL dream would be if i got to write a thread zombifying a character who managed to escape giselle’s clutches. and more fighting! i want to get better at describing action and fights and i love to write giselle getting beat up and beating people up! more more more!! 

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE:   hohoho theres a LOT... uh r*pe/dubcon threads for one, even if yeah i know writing it doesnt condone it, it makes me intensely uncomfortable to put my muse in that scenario, i feel like i have an obligation to like, protect her from that shit you know? racism is one i don’t want to transgress, even though i’m a poc, its not really cathartic or groundbreaking to write abt racism in threads its just... really fucking upsetting. also i know the quincy’s have this very close parallel to the whole n*zi imagery and ideology thing going on and i am not about to start even daring to thread that into my writing or bring those allusions and references of real life tragedies into giselle’s threads. i’ve already talked at length abt exploring giselles trans identity in rp and why im not comfortable doing so, so.... yeah! all those i guess.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: i like starters where giselle can just immediately get right into being a piece of shit. mise en scene and all that! cut out the build up and just get to the intense horror !! i don’t like starters where its not immediately clear where the characters are standing and what they’re doing and what’s happening around them. those really disorientate me and leave me kinda floundering because i always need some allusion or mention of a setting to ground giselle in a time and place other wise i cant tell what her response should be

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?:  EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN. also just characters i can wholeheartedly clown on, or also characters who have hidden depths to them and have a single panel of screentime. honestly it’s just all over the place!

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?:  angry old men GSADJDKSJA i could never rp yhwach for example or yamamoto because idk. theyre just so crummy and boring to me. i also couldnt rp characters who always have an upper hand in battle like aizen. i like my dumbasses and i like them stupid and adaptive not just, ‘yes i know this because i Know this.’

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: i think im nice...? FKSJDKDJSA idk i hate trying to toot my own horn. sometimes i also think i make funny jokes and im pretty chill and laid back

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: my writing style is inconsistent and adapts to whatever i’m reading so sometimes it’ll be really good and i love it and other times it reads like really bad fanfic and i get carried away far too easily and write novella lengths for threads which should be much shorter. i also get shy a lot and dont think i communicate very effectively but HEYO we’re working on it!

DO YOU RP SMUT?:  YES / NO/ DEPENDS. haven’t had anybody brave enough to try yet lol

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: more for fun i’d imagine because that’s just giselles own attitude to sex and relationships where she doesnt want anything deep. it might show character development in one way of just showing how she regards others in a romantic sense to be used rather than actually appreciated as their own person and show how selfish she is but yeah, more out of fun

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?:  theres a few kinks and such but i dont think they’d ever really come up. again, just mainly no r*pe/dubcon.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?:   YES / NO lets hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshole, but its more like a fun little side thing than anything important to giselle’s actual development and characterisation. 

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. again, hardly anyone is brave enough to try to romance this evil cannibal.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU:  MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: more how giselle likes to give over her power or dominate in different circumstances depending on who she’s with and what’s being done. BUT AGAIN, not a whole lot to explore yet.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - i mean im down for p much anything if it vibes w giselle.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: if you want an evil woman to taunt and mock and hurt your muse, she’s your gal. you want her to zombify and ruin your muse, shes also your gal. you want her to insult and maim and injure, she’s also YOUR GAL. basically, if you want to do anything fucked up or sad or scary, she can help with that.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?:  uh muses who get really angry quickly or don’t rise or respond to her jabs and are just kinda like a flatline. theres only so much pestering and annoying she can do until realises its not working and just wanders off

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?:  to find a goal worth living for.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?:  appearance she always takes an interest in girls almost right away. age as well because she judges old people. 

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?:  a good set of guts to ruin and strong muscles.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?:  women, gore, murder, herself, music, stupid memes, gossip.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?:  politics, history, quincy ideology, soul reaper ideology, hollow physiology.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?:  her family tried to force the burden of upholding the quincy lineage onto her shoulders, she was thrown into the wrong prison and held in isolation, then pressured to become an undying monster in service of a god and then was nearly killed by that same man and left wandering without guidance or purpose. so, yeah?

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?:  transphobia. even a whiff of it in her direction and she’ll gut you like a fish.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?:  the twink soul reaper who outted her.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  if you’re smart, you’ll bring a big bone for her to chew on and distract her while you ask whatever you want.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: i love my evil queen!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @bazzardburner​ cheers chicken boy !!

Tagging: @hyouketsu​ @blooming5th​ @viciousvizard​ @glacies-tempestatem​ and whoever else wishes to do this!!

[writerunsolved]

The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 7

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 7/?

Summary:  You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

After a wild night at the VMAs and some heavy partying and drinking at the afterparty, you write and publish a drunken tweet about a certain celebrity and one of their friends. You only realise what you've done the next day when a slew of texts and calls wakes you up to a dreadful but expected hangover. You immediately delete the tweet, but you're left to deal with the consequences. A public apology would probably be enough to make everything go away if you hadn't been invited to a movie premiere where said celebrity is most certainly going to be.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: Quick PSA: I’d noticed getting fewer notes than usual on the last two chapters. I later found out that Tumblr has killed internal links too, which means that my updates supposedly didn’t show up in searches. For this reason, starting today, I have to stop linking to my previous and next chapters. To make extra sure you don’t miss any updates, you can also subscribe to this fic on AO3.

Seen the situation, your reblogs are more important than ever! Remember to support your favourite creators on Tumblr by reblogging rather than liking their posts, it is the only way their work can get around and reach a wider audience! Thank you in advance for reading!

Previous chapters can be found on this blog.

Chapter Seven - Just As Sweet As Coffee And With The Same Aftertaste

-

When you’d gotten home after the dinner, you had just as mechanically divested and put on your pyjamas. Only once you’d laid down on your bed to sleep, had the weight of what had happened finally dawned upon your mind and quickly become a thought to worry about.

In the safety of your bedroom and under the cover of darkness, as well as the more literal duvet that the cold weather had started requiring, your brain had once again begun spinning out of your control providing you with ever new anxieties. You had soon started examining your behaviour during the whole evening, considering the way you’d eaten, laughed, drunk, the subjects you’d decided to talk about, and every single reaction you’d elicited from Tom. But the one thought that had kept circling back throughout your meticulous examination had been that of the almost-kiss you had almost-shared.

Right then, an unbearable feeling of embarrassment had burned inside you like a sudden stab, and you had immediately felt the shame that came with presuming that none of it had been reciprocated. Once the belief that you had forced yourself on poor, polite Tom had taken root in your head, sleep had seemed like a distant memory you had no idea how to chase, nor grasp.

At some point, you had lost any sense of the time passing, so much that only the vibration of your phone on the nightstand had finally made you realise how late it had gotten. When you’d hurriedly snatched it to check who it was, desperate for any kind of distraction from your own train of thought, the single text you had received had been enough to put your mind at ease and make you decide that it was time to try and sleep.

“I had a wonderful night,” it had read, “I look forward to next time.”

You hadn’t answered right then, only seen that it was almost 2 AM and turned around with a smile on your face, determined to rest.

When you finally did wake up, you were drowsy enough that the memory of the previous night wasn’t the first thought in your mind. You checked your phone and saw that it was almost 11 AM, panic shot through you for just a second before you remembered that it was Sunday and you had no work, so you relaxed back into the mattress with a sigh.

You instinctively reached for your phone, mostly to check if you had any new texts, not yet remembering that you still had one from Tom to answer. When you took it in your hand, his notification was still there, hitting you with a mix of undefined emotions.

“Hi, and good morning :) I also had a great time, we should meet again soon," you sent him in response. Then, in another text, you added, “If work allows, of course.”

You wondered just for a moment if it sounded like you were making excuses not to meet again, but your worry was instantly alleviated by him replying “I’ll definitely let you know when I’m free again, and I hope you’ll do the same.” You agreed and for the rest of the day you texted back and forth like you’d been doing for a while now, and the normalcy of it kept your preoccupations about the night before at bay.

The next few days passed in much the same fashion, with the exception of going back to work on Monday. You were distracted enough with new interviews and finally some meetings to determine when and where your upcoming concert tour would take place, that you barely had time to dwell on your anxieties again.

They had certainly faded from your mind that Wednesday when you were having lunch with Nina at a small place on the same street as the label building.

You were sitting down at a sleek square table, lunch in front of you, and slowly picking at the food while Nina spoke rapidly into her mobile phone. You had no idea what she was talking about, her voice fast enough and low enough that you could only catch a couple of words here and there, like “Liam” and “Be on time” and a whole lot of “No”. You looked distractedly around you, the small restaurant had a cold, minimalistic vibe to it, with polished aluminium tables and chairs. It was the first time you ate there, Nina had been the one to suggest it, you didn’t mind the food but it wasn’t anything special.

A lot of people kept coming and going, only very few opting to sit down in the small space that the restaurant allowed, and most just grabbing paper bags full of food to take away and eat elsewhere. You really didn’t understand the appeal of the place, but you imagined it would certainly be convenient to stop there and pick up a quick meal if you worked in one of the many office buildings of the area.

Your inconsequential thoughts were interrupted by Nina almost slamming the phone down on the tabletop and declaring, “This is why I don’t want interns, they’re only a waste of my time.” She sighed loudly and faced you, shaking off the annoyance of the phone conversation and digging into her lunch with vigour.

“Sorry for that,” she started, carelessly waving her fork around and talking animatedly, “Talking to Liam is like screaming into the wind. He’s always carrying that notepad around and writing everything down, and yet he still calls me for every tiny thing,” she huffed again, “Unbelievable.”

You nodded in sympathy, “I guess it must be hard to keep up with you,” you told her, “Not even I have any idea of the number of things you get done in a single day.”

“Don’t defend him,” she groaned and pointed at you with her fork, you felt mildly threatened, “I know I’m a force to be reckoned with, but if he wants to get anywhere at the label he’s gonna have to learn.”

You replied with a small “Fair enough,” and took another bite of your lunch, Nina did the same.

“This food isn’t all that much,” she commented, “I shouldn’t have trusted Mike, but anyway...” She paused and quickly ate another mouthful or two, then directed her attention at you, “I don’t believe you’ve told me about your dinner the other night.”

Her change of subject surprised you enough that you almost choked on the food you’d just put in your mouth. You started coughing convulsively, barely managing to swallow a crouton before it choked you to death. Nina just looked at you silently, unscrewing the water bottle you were sharing and pouring some of the liquid in your glass. You thanked her with a look and gulped down the water, finally able to breathe normally again.

“Is that a positive or negative answer?” she asked you with a smirk.

You straightened up and gave her a nasty look, “Very funny.”

“It was a little bit funny,” she pushed her thumb and index finger together to show how much, “But mostly it was adorable, I can’t believe how much of a goner you are.”

You spluttered, you were just about to reply when your phone, which had been sitting on the side of your glass, vibrated with a new text alert. You ignored your train of thought in favour of checking the notification but didn’t get any further than seeing that it was from Tom because Nina started laughing. You looked at her, confused by her reaction.

She pointed at the phone you were clutching with the hand still holding her fork, “See, you have no leg to stand on! You literally stopped mid-thought to check if he was sending you a text.”

“I- I wasn’t- I didn’t! I-” you stuttered, trying to find something to defend yourself, “We were just… We were already texting before!” you almost shouted. Then, realising your sudden increase in volume, you cleared your throat and tried again in a much lower voice and a casual shrug, “It would be rude to leave him hanging.”

Nina smiled and rolled her eyes, “Oh, you are just so,” she elongated the word, “Considerate.”

“Well, excuse me,” you rebutted, an exaggeratedly haughty look on your face.

“Go on,” she urged you, “Read it. I know you’re dying to.”

“I’m not dying to,” you muttered but didn’t hesitate to open up the text. For some reason or other, you and Tom had started talking about the cartoons you used to watch as children, you had no idea how you’d gotten to the subject, and he was just following up on the conversation. You shot back a quick answer and put the phone back on the table.

“Anyway,” Nina started again when she saw you were done, “I really do want to know about dinner. Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” she pouted.

“It was just dinner,” you answered, “There isn’t all that much to say, really...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she nodded, “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it.” You wanted to protest, but she continued in a more serious tone, “Just remember that we’re friends, and whenever you’re ready - and if you feel like you need to - you can talk to me, okay?”

You shook your head gently, “I appreciate it, Nina. But, honestly, you’re making it out to be much bigger than it is.”

“I know you, hon,” she repeated, “And I’m pretty sure you’re stressing about this. But I also know that you need time to think about it by yourself, which is fine,” she insisted, “But don’t feel like you have to keep everything inside because you think we’re gonna judge you or something like that.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed and looked down at the table, nervously picking at the edge with your index finger, “I’m just not sure of the situation, and I don’t feel like I’m ready to share what’s going through my mind yet. I need more time to clear my head is all,” you finally admitted and looked up at Nina. She was smiling kindly.

“It’s okay, hon,” she reassured you, “I’ll still be here later.”

You forced yourself to smile back, trying to show your gratitude, but the feeling of being a bad friend was nagging at you. Something in you wanted to push and make you open up, but your insistence to deny that you were feeling anything at all was much stronger. Sometimes you just wished you could be a better friend to the people supporting you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Nina changed the subject swiftly, “The 4 PM meeting on Friday was cancelled, so you can definitely make other plans for the evening. And Monday, too,” she added, “My parents are gonna be in town, so I’m giving you a day off,” she winked.

“Nice!” you commented, then asked her, “How are your parents by the way? It was so lovely meeting them last May.”

“They’re fine,” she waved a hand dismissively, “They’re enjoying retirement in their dreamy French villa, as usual. You should join us for dinner on Monday, they loved meeting you, too. They were smitten by that talentueuse jeune fille,” she said the last sentence in an exaggerated French accent, an imitation of her parents’, “And wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

You laughed. The rest of the meal was spent making plans for the dinner on Monday. After that, you both went back to work. Later in the day, you texted Tom to let him know you would be free on Friday afternoon and asked him if he wanted to get coffee. He accepted enthusiastically and promised to discuss specifics later in the day.

-

Amidst your hectic working hours, Friday seemed to come in an instant.

You’d heard from Tom again and, in the end, you’d agreed on going to Caffé Piccolo. You’d mentioned their amazing coffee in previous conversations, and he was thrilled to finally get to experience it too.

That day, you managed to leave work exactly at 4 PM. The morning meetings about the tour had been slow-going and full of technical information you couldn’t do much about. In fact, you weren’t sure why your presence had been required at all, but you hadn’t minded too much and Nina had also been there.

You exited the building and looked at the time on your phone. You and Tom had arranged to meet at a quarter to five in front of Caffé Piccolo, which meant that you still had forty-five minutes to get there, it would be more than enough time to make it without being late. You looked up at the sky, thick grey clouds hovered above the rooftops, promising rain. You frowned, hoping that you would make it home before the weather turned for the worse, then walked away toward the tube station.

You made it to the café with a few minutes to spare and no rain on your path. You briefly considered whether to wait for Tom inside, but in the end, opted to stay where you were. Soon enough, you saw him hurrying down the street from the same direction you’d come, straight from the metro.

When he reached you, you could see that he was wind-swept and that he’d probably ran to make it in time. His hair was in complete disarray and his coat was unbuttoned, showing that he was wearing a soft navy-blue sweater underneath.

“Hi!” he greeted you cheerfully, a huge smile on his lips. He passed a hand through his hair, trying to slide it back in place, but it did very little. “Sorry, I’m late.”

You smiled back, “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not late,” you reassured him, “I got here a bit early, but you’re perfectly on time”.

He touched your shoulder gently and said, “It’s good to see you again,” then, he hugged you tightly.

You felt just as off guard as the first time you’d hugged. You guessed it would take a while before you would get used to it. You obviously didn’t hate it, but you had trouble letting yourself go, though you did try. By the time you separated, you’d even managed to reciprocate the hug.

“So this is the legendary Caffé Piccolo,” he said, looking behind you at the small door, “Did I say it right?”

“I’m not one to judge,” you joked, “But be reassured that if you say it wrong inside, they won’t hesitate to correct you.” He laughed, you added, “And I’m not sure about legendary, but their coffee is certifiably extraordinary.”

“I was excited to try it before, but now I can’t wait one more second. Shall we go in?” he asked, extending a hand towards the door.

You nodded and turned around to make your way inside, keeping the door open for Tom who followed you in and thanked you. You let the door close behind him and looked around, searching for an empty table. You couldn’t see Andrea, at his place at the cash register was his mother Santuzza, who immediately saw you enter and welcomed you with a huge smile.

“Andrea! Vieni un attimo alla cassa! ” she shouted toward the back, from which Andrea appeared. He quickly took his mother’s place at the cash register so Santuzza could make her way towards you, open arms ready to squeeze you. “Gioia mia, it’s so nice to see you!”, she spoke with a thick accent and her smile still in place. As soon as she reached you, she threw her arms around you and crushed you into the sweetest hug she could manage.

“Mrs Fusco, I’m happy to see you, too,” you told her when she let you go. You massaged your left side carefully, she had pushed so tightly around you, that you couldn’t help but jam your own elbow into the side of your ribs. You could see Andrea behind her punching in one of the costumers’ order, he raised his eyes from the cash register and spotted you looking back. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand and went back to his task.

“Oh, please, tesoro mio, call me Santuzza. How many times do I have to tell you?” she chastised you, then asked, “What are you doing here, goia?”

“I brought a friend to try your magnificent coffee,” you replied, gesturing towards Tom, who was watching the exchange with a tiny smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Fusco,” he told Santuzza, then introduced himself, “I’m Tom, I’ve heard amazing things about your establishment.” He extended his hand, and when Santuzza did the same, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed it. You could immediately see how flattered the gesture had made her and covered your mouth to hide the impressed grin that had bloomed on your lips.

“Oh my,” Santuzza almost blushed, “What a charming young man you have there,” she turned to you, “Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto.”

You laughed slightly, sure that the compliment had made Tom bashful, but not of what Santuzza had told you with her last sentence.

“Enjoy the coffee,” she told you both and went back to her place at the cash register, pushing Andrea back towards the kitchen in the back.

“You speak Italian?” Tom asked you while you made your way to one of the small tables next to the large window that overlooked the front of the store.

You took off your coat and draped it on the back of your chair before sitting down, Tom did the same. “Not really,” you told him, “I’m not sure what she said, to be honest, I only understand the pet names because she uses them so much.”

“I see,” he replied, “She was calling you ‘love’, and ‘joy’, and ‘treasure’. I can understand a little Italian, but not enough to know what she told you, I’m afraid,” he explained.

“That’s impressive!” you commented, widening your eyes, “You should teach me what you know sometime.”

“Why not,” he smiled, then changed the subject, “I assume you come here a lot, you seem very close with the owner.”

“Owners, actually,” you specified, “Santuzza and her husband Giovanni opened the café with their son Andrea.” Tom was listening interestedly. “From what I know, Andrea went to a business university here in London. When he went back to Italy after that, he convinced his parents to move to London too and to open Caffé Piccolo,” you explained, “They already had a small place back in Italy, and he believed they could really get somewhere with their coffee specialities.”

Tom looked around, almost every other table in the room was occupied, and there were several people waiting in line for their coffee at the counter. “I think he might have had the right idea,” he joked, referring to the small crowd.

You chuckled. “I know I amped up their coffee a lot,” you emphasised the last two words, “But I swear I wasn’t lying.”

Before Tom could answer, Andrea had reemerged from the back of the café and was approaching your table. “Bellezza, it’s been a while,” he greeted you. He looked around and towards the entrance before continuing, “No Nina today?”

“Hey, Andrea,” you greeted him with a smile, “Nope, no Nina.” He sighed in relief. “I brought a new friend today.”

At that, Andrea noticed Tom, who was sitting cross-legged in front of you with a small smirk, and gulped. He spluttered several times before squeaking out, “I didn’t know you were friends with Tom Hiddleston.”

You snickered at Andrea’s loss for words, he was probably mourning Nina’s absence just then.

“Hi, Andrea, nice to meet you,” Tom offered his hand to shake, still smirking and going along with your teasing.

Andrea took it and said, “It’s the same for me, Mr Hiddleston.”

Behind Andrea’s back, you widened your mouth in amused surprise and outrage: Andrea had never been that polite to Nina and you!

“Please, just Tom,” he answered. When their hands separated, Andrea took a step back and looked between you and Tom squaring his shoulders in the semblance of a professional demeanour, and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

You glanced at Tom and asked him, “Would you mind if I ordered for you?”

“Please,” he replied, “Go ahead.”

“Do you like chocolate?” you asked him one last time, and when he nodded you turned to Andrea and finally said, “We’ll have a Marocchino and a Caffé al Ginseng, please.” Andrea, who had taken out a small notepad, wrote the order down and nodded, leaving the two of you and walking back towards the counter.

“I’m kind of curious about what you just ordered,” Tom started, “But I also want to keep the surprise alive,” he joked. You laughed. A beat or two of silence passed before he spoke again, “I was surprised by your text,” he said, “Pleasantly, of course. Did you get a long weekend?”

“No, actually,” you explained, “The afternoon meeting for today was cancelled, and since it was the last appointment for today, I thought I’d let you know and see if you were free too.”

“Well, thank you for that,” he replied, “I was glad you thought of me.”

You blushed, “No problem,” you almost mumbled, smiling shyly. Then asked, “Did you also get a half-day?”

“Unfortunately not,” he lifted the corner of his mouth in a bitter smile, “I was free this morning, but I have a work dinner later tonight.”

“Oh, I see. What time do you need to get going?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a brush of his hand, “It’s not until eight.”

You were going to say more when Andrea approached your table again, carrying a round metal tray. He set half of it on the table, keeping the other half up with his hand, and started moving the cups out of it. He set two glasses filled with water on the table, then said, “A Marocchinohere,” and deposited a small plate with a slightly larger than usual espresso cup filled to the brim with a deep brown chocolate and coffee concoction in front of Tom, then a smaller one with what looked like a very weak coffee in front of you, “And a Caffé al Ginseng for you.” You were about to thank him, but he added, “And I brought some Cantuccini. Dad made them this morning, let me know what you think,” and winked at you.

“Thank you, Andrea,” you told him. He nodded, picking up the tray and holding it in front of him, then left with a quick friendly touch to your shoulder.

You looked back at Tom, he was observing Andrea intently, but when he noticed you were looking at him he smiled with a raise of his eyebrows and said, “Shall we?”

You nodded and picked up your cup, he did the same, taking a whiff of the beverage before bringing it to his lips. You took a drink of your coffee and surveyed him from the top of your cup, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally tasted the liquid and, as soon as it touched his tongue, he let out an appreciative moan.

“This is amazing!” he commented, visibly impressed.

You set your already almost empty cup back on the table and reached for the half-moon shaped cookies, taking one. “I’m glad to hear that,” you smiled, then took a bite.

“So I can definitely taste the chocolate and coffee,” he stated, “But how is this made exactly? And what is the one you ordered?”

You swallowed the cookie bite and replied, “I’ve been told Marocchino is not actually coffee, but a separate beverage. Although it is made with coffee and also sweetened milk cream, in addition to dark chocolate, of course.” He nodded in agreement. “And the one I got is made with Ginseng extract and milk, mixed with espresso, which is why it looks like watered down coffee,” you explained, “Would you like to try some?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Maybe next time,” he smiled, then reached for the cookies. You looked at him expectantly, ”Wow! These are incredible,” he exclaimed, “I’ve had Cantucci before, but these are really good.”

“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” you joked.

He laughed then said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking. You said you had a meeting that was cancelled, what would it have been about?”

“It’s totally fine,” you reassured him, “We’ve been in talks about my upcoming world tour for the last few days.”

“That’s amazing! Have you worked out the details yet?”

“Not yet, no,” you replied, “The dates for the European part are more or less all decided,” you explained, “But the American part is still a little foggy. Nina, my manager, was trying to keep them pretty cohesive, but the higher-ups have been saying that they’d rather have me take a break after all the European concerts are done and wait a couple of months before we move the tour to North America.”

He hummed pensively, “That doesn’t seem very intuitive,” he considered, “When are you going to start travelling around for it?”

You made a dismissive gesture with your hand and said, “Oh, not until next May, so there’s still a lot of time to argue about specifics,” you joked. “What about you?” you asked him then, “Any new projects in the near future? Something to do with tonight’s dinner?”

“Tonight is actually for some promotional appearances for that voice acting project I told you about before,” he responded, “But I should start on something new in a couple of weeks...”

You spent the next hour talking about work and pleasantly chit-chatting about your personal lives. The atmosphere of the café made you feel at ease more than the restaurant had a few days before. Something about the familiarity of the environment and the repeated experience of going out with Tom helped you relax like you hadn’t quite been able to do the first time you’d eaten together. Tom seemed just as serene in the more low-profile setting. Either way, you barely noticed the time passing by, marked by the arrival of a text from your sister some hour and a half later.

You ignored it at first, unwilling to interrupt the conversation and be impolite, but when more texts kept coming, you had to excuse yourself and check in case of an emergency.

“Ben just broke up with me,” the texts said, “Can I sleep at yours tonight? ” and then, in lack of a response, “I'll be there at seven.”

The surprise and worry must have shown on your face because Tom asked you, “Is everything okay?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologised, putting away your phone, “I really don’t want to cut this short, but my sister just told me she’s coming over to sleep at my house.”

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you replied, “Something with her boyfriend. I’m honestly so sorry,” you insisted.

“Oh, no, please, it’s okay,” he reassured you, “It’s almost time I get going, too. Let me use the restroom first and then we can go, okay?”

You nodded. He quickly left the table, so you started gathering your things, putting on your coat and taking out your wallet from your bag. When he came back, you waited for him to do the same and told him, “I’m gonna go ahead and pay.”

He hesitated, then told you with a guilty look, “I already did that.” You were about to protest, but he continued, with a conciliatory smile, “I promise I’ll let you pay next time.” You didn’t believe him, but you dropped the issue with a small shake of your head and a playful roll of your eyes.

Soon enough, you walked out of the café, waving goodbye to Andrea at the counter. You couldn’t see his mom anymore so you mouthed, “Say bye to your parents for me.” Andrea nodded and went back to work, and you finally left.

Before leaving, you and Tom stopped on the curb in front of the café to say bye. “I would have liked to stay a little longer,” you told him, “I’m really sorry.”

“Please, don’t apologise anymore,” he said, looking intensely into your eyes. He leaned a gentle hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure we can meet again soon,” he continued, unconsciously playing with the lapel of your coat.

You smiled timidly, “I hope so too,” you told him, “I had a great time, good luck with dinner.”

“Thanks,” he responded, “Let me know if something serious happened with your sister and if I can do anything, okay?” You nodded, he dropped his hand from your shoulder, “I’ll see you soon,” he said finally and turned away with a small wave.

You waved back and turned around, walking in the opposite direction, on the path to your house. When you got there, your sister was waiting in front of the main door, huddled onto herself like she was cold and looking dejected. When she saw you approaching, she ran towards you and buried her head in your neck, expecting a hug. You squeezed her and tenderly caressed her hair back. When you separated, her eyes were wet with tears. “Let’s get you inside,” you told her softly, and took out the keys to the entrance.

Translation of French and Italian dialogue: - talentueuse jeune fille = talented young lady  - Vieni un attimo alla cassa! = Come to the register for a bit! - Gioia mia / gioia, tesoro mio, Bellezza = My joy / joy, my treasure, Beautiful - Mi raccomando, amore mio, tienitelo bello stretto. = Make sure to hang onto him hard, my love.

Chapter 8 coming soon

@honeybournehippy @namelesslosers @unlikelytigerqueen @effielumiere @theoneanna

[thebibliosphere]

It’s been less than three weeks since my last thousand follower milestone. You’d think by now this would be mildly less terrifying for me but no, no, I am a still a raw bundle of nerves every time I look at my activity feed. Time for the obligatory navigational post I guess!

Hello trashcans, welcome home. I’m the vampire editor person who just wants to rest.  If you’re here for more Death smut, food discourse, general vampire shitposting and unconditional love for Carrie Fisher then boy are you in the right place. Clickable links are in bold for ease of navigation <3

IF YOU’RE HERE TO ASK ME HOW I BECAME AN EDITOR OR ARE INTERESTED IN HIRING ME AS ONE, PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT MY FAQ. 

Thank you <3

Due to tumblr tricking me into becoming a professional writer I’m currently working on about a million and one writing projects. Most of them vampire related for some bizarre unknown reason.

The most well known is likely Hunger Pangs which is available for pre-order via my Patreon, and in a mere matter of weeks, on Amazon too. Cause that’s right, I took that shit post and turned it into a poly-queer-paranormal-satirical-romance novel featuring vampires, werewolves and punching undead fascists (It wasn’t intended to be politically relevant but here we are).

A fairly concise summary of it can be found here and excerpts can be found by searching for the tag #the vampire werewolf thing, which is the unofficial tagline for Hunger Pangs or #Phangs as some people have started to tag it. By request there is going to be two versions of the book, one which contains sexual content, and one which does not for those who are not interested in smut and like a little more fluff with their fangs. 

Along with Phangs I’m also working on a gritty Scottish romance novella (extract) based on a pun; a pun based bakery romance (extract), a pun based werewolf Scottish romance (have you noticed a theme yet), and  a modern day romantic comedy concerning Scotsmen with questionable morals. Which also has an excerpt on my Ao3. Oh and also a vampire wedding planner romcom because apparently I have lost complete control of my life. 

All of my work is tagged appropriately, with anything that is 18+ being placed under a cut and tagged as #NSFW or #NSFW Text for ease of blacklisting if you would like avoid it. If you are under the age of 18, I do ask that you respect my boundaries and refrain from interacting with anything on my blog that is labelled 18+. I try very hard to keep my blog as safe for everyone as I can. No mean feat when you’re known across the Internet as “the crucifix vampire nipple lady” :P

All of my work that I intend to publish professionally will also be available smut free in plain romance/fluff versions if that is a thing you are interested in. If you need me to tag something for trigger purposes, no matter how silly you think I might think it is, please let me know, I will be more than happy to do so.

If you’re completely new here you might notice some people calling me “mom” or other variations therein of familial relation. It’s perfectly okay to greet me as such if you wish to, but it is by no means an obligatory title and not something I gave to myself. Tumblr decided to adopt me sometime last year after I did some helpful life advice posts and I’ve been doing my best to be worthy of the honorific ever since. You can also just call me Joy, cause that is my name :)

Please have patience if you are sending me asks or IMs. I am but a humble smut peddler, peddling my weres, and have some pretty profound chronic health problems ranging from autoimmune issues to nerve damage which make keeping up with a high traffic blog as well as my work schedule rather difficult. So I’m sorry if you ever send me something and I don’t see it. 

If you get tired of seeing my health posts, you may wish to blacklist the following tags: #chronic health tag & #chronic health tag: teeth, that way I can bitch and moan into the void and you don’t have to put up with me if you don’t want to.

Also sometimes we stream things in my chatroom, the link to which you can find in my navigational bar, and are welcome to check out at any time though we are currently on hiatus. There is also a discord chat set up by my friends and followers, where people often hang out just to chat. The link to this can also be found via my chatroom. Oh and you can now follow me on Twitter if that is a thing you are interested in. 

All of these things aside, welcome, I hope you’re having a good day, and whatever made you click on me was worth it. Take care <3

[anne-wentworth]

hi dear! love your blog! Could you by any chance write a story about Darvey during the bomb cyclone that is about to hit nyc?? I really love your stories and can’t get enough of them 🙈😻

Firstly I just want to say thank you! I’m so glad you like my blog and my writing. And thanks for the prompt as well. Hope you enjoy!

Weathering the Storm

Read on ao3

Donna stood in the middle of the airport, one hand clutching the handle of her suitcase and the other her phone.

Jessica had asked her to go to New York to meet with a potential client on her behalf. Donna had been flattered that out of everyone, the older woman had asked her. But she had been meeting with clients for years with Harvey and never failed to charm their pants off. Even though she didn’t go to law school, Donna Paulsen had a PhD in persuasion. Jessica was well aware of her talents.

However, with the upcoming bomb cyclone all flights had been cancelled. Donna had known about the approaching storm but she didn’t think she would have been affected. Apparently it was proceeding more quickly than anyone anticipated.

The city was already beginning to feel the effects but Donna had held on to that last shred of hope when she walked into the airport that maybe she would be able to make it back to Chicago.

That hope was quickly thrown out the window, eaten up by the winds that were steadily increasing.

She hadn’t wasted a moment in calling all of the hotels in the nearest vicinity, only to find out each time that they were fully booked. Rachel and Mike had flown out to Washington, where her friend had a cousin who invited her to spend the holidays and needing a break from wedding planning and work and well everything she accepted. So she had phoned Louis after receiving the endless string of bad news only to find out that he wasn’t in the city either. He was at his sister’s and while Donna was happy that he was trying to have a better relationship with her, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the timing.

Hence there she was, out of options, watching the room filled with people wearing similar expressions as her.

It looked like they would all be forced to stay there for as long as the storm lasted.

Just her luck.

Suddenly her phone started ringing and her heart stuttered as she stared at the name that appeared on the screen.

Harvey.

She hadn’t spoken to him since she left.

But even before that their communication had been limited.

Donna kissed him and they fell apart.

They had fought afterwards, Harvey asking what the hell she was thinking and Donna fiercely replying herself for the first time in over twelve years.

She had never seen such anger in his eyes as she did then, as he threw words at her that cut her to the core. But she had flung them back with equal fury and neither had been able to escape the battlefield unscathed.

He hadn’t been able to forgive her and when he and Paula broke up he blamed her for that too. In the weeks that followed she endured silence and bitter glares and clipped sentences only when absolutely necessary.

In the end, she couldn’t withstand the daily damage done to her heart.

Thus, she walked away.

Yet he was still Harvey and she was Donna and so she found herself answering even as her hand shook.

“Hello.”

It took every ounce of effort to keep her voice steady.

“Donna,” Harvey said, a hint of surprise in his tone, as if he didn’t know if she would pick up.

The mere sound of her name falling from his lips made her chest seize.

“Harvey,” was all she replied.

“Louis called me um…he said you were stuck at the airport and didn’t have anywhere to go?” he asked, unsure of himself.

At that moment Donna wanted nothing more than to strangle Louis Litt. The next time she saw him she certainly would.

“Yeah…” she said, trailing off awkwardly.

“You can stay at my place. If you want. I know the airport isn’t the most comfortable place and the storm’s going to be pretty bad so…”

Now he was the one trailing off awkwardly.

With her phone pressed against her ear, Donna pondered over which choice would be less painful.

She was surprised that he even asked in the first place, considering that they weren’t exactly on the best terms.

Secluded in a house with the man who broke her heart was a recipe for disaster. But as Donna took in the disgruntled crowd, she made a decision.

“Okay,” she said.

“Great. Um do you need me to send Ray? Or I could come and pick-”

“It’s fine,” Donna quickly interrupted. “I’ll just take a cab I think there’s a few left.”

“Okay. Well I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

Hastily, she hung up, a part of her wondering what the hell she had just done.

But what else was there to do? Remain at the airport for god knows how long?

Harvey’s couldn’t be worse than that. At least she hoped so.

With millions of thoughts flying around her head, one doubt crashing into the next, Donna headed out. Luckily there were still a couple of cabs outside and she got into the nearest one, giving the driver the address she memorized years ago.

Donna was a ball of nerves for the entire ride, her stomach in knots.

She was going to see Harvey.

The thought hit her with full force as the realization completely sunk in.

Shit.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to open the door and jump out of the moving car.

But all she could do was sit quietly and let her anxiety eat her alive.

All too soon, they arrived at her destination.

Everything was a blur as she paid the driver and exited the cab. Even the freezing cold as she stepped outside was nothing compared to the inner turmoil she was experiencing.

As Donna found herself standing in front of his door, she took a deep breath, trying to appear as unaffected as possible before knocking.

She was fine. Everything was fine.

But then Harvey opened the door and all of the air was knocked out of her system.

Despite the mess they had become, despite it all, he was Harvey.

He was the man she loved even now, as much as she hated to admit it to herself.

Time seemed to slow as they both stood there, drinking in the other.

Donna wanted to drown in him.

Harvey blinked then, as if broken out of whatever spell had been cast before wordlessly inviting her in.

Donna walked inside, trying her best to keep her heart in check.

She was gripping the handle of her suitcase as if it was her lifeline, looking everywhere but at him.

“How are you?” he asked, shocking Donna by taking the first step.

“Good,” she answered, finally meeting his gaze.

The steel in his eyes from months ago had disappeared.

Donna couldn’t help but wonder what changed.

“How’s Chicago?”

“It’s nice actually. I like it better than I thought I would,” she said earnestly.

It would never be New York but Chicago had crept up on her and one day she might even be able to call it home with ease.

But not yet.

Besides, they said that home was where the heart was.

Donna’s heart wasn’t in Chicago.

“And Jessica? How’s she doing?”

“Kicking ass every day.”

Harvey mouth quirked up in affection for his old mentor.

The sight tugged at every one of her heartstrings.

She had missed that.

“Wouldn’t expect anything else. And I assume you’re kicking some ass of your own.”

“Did you expect anything else?” she asked, the barest of smiles on her own features.

“Never.”

He was starting at her softly, the way he used to and Donna was falling apart.

“So I guess I’ll take the couch-” she began, needing to end the silence as she looked away again.

“No you can have the bed,” he cut her off. “I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. It’s no problem.”

“Okay well I’m going to change into something more comfortable,” she announced, turning around and heading to his bedroom before he could respond.

Donna tried to shut her brain off as she opened her suitcase and grabbed a thick hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. She tried to ignore the fact that she was in Harvey’s bedroom as she stripped down to nothing. But after shrugging on the clothing she’d picked out, she just couldn’t do it anymore.

A sigh left her lips as she sat on his bed with her head in her hands.

It was all too much.

Seeing him like this, being here, was familiar and yet it wasn’t.

He was so close and yet there was still this vast distance between them, from the walls they had both built around themselves.

They weren’t who they once were. But all Donna was reminded of was a time filled with shared drinks and laughter and easy remarks coated in something resembling love.

Every bone in her body was aching.

Rising, she decided that she would tell Harvey that she was tired and spend the rest of the evening in his room in order to avoid him as much as possible.

She didn’t even think about what it would be like to sleep in his bed and how much that would screw her up.

Not yet.

Making her way out of his room, Donna found Harvey in the kitchen.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Before Donna could even open her mouth, her stomach loudly grumbled in reply.

Harvey’s eyebrows shot up and Donna just knew her cheeks were turning pink.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said amused.

“I haven’t eaten in hours,” she mumbled, walking over to the couch and plopping down.

Donna hadn’t even realized she was starving until he had asked.

It wasn’t long before he appeared in front of her, holding a plate in each hand. Donna accepted the one that was offered to her and instantly perked up at the sight of the pasta.

She suppressed a moan at her first mouthful.

God this was good.

Donna had forgotten how well he could cook.

They both ate quietly side by side, neither of them speaking. Donna’s eyes idly drifted to the flurry of snow outside. Things were beginning to pick up.

All of a sudden she felt a surge of gratitude that she was here, sitting on a nice couch eating a home cooked meal instead of stuck at the airport.

“Thank you,” she said, voicing her feelings out loud. “For letting me stay here.”

“It was the least I could do,” he told her. “After everything.”

Everything.

The title of the story that was their ending.

All of the arguments and tears and resentment and pain comprised in one neat little word.

“I wanted…I wanted to try to fix things,” he said, his tone sincere.

A block of ice formed in her stomach.

“You can’t,” she whispered, staring at her food as her eyes already began to fill with tears.

“Why the hell not?” he inquired defensively.

Donna placed her plate on the coffee table in front of her because she wasn’t hungry anymore.

“I can’t do this Harvey,” was all she said as she got up and started heading to his bedroom.

But he was fast and before she knew it his fingers were gently wrapping themselves around her wrist.

“Donna wait. Talk to me. Please.”

A bitter laugh threatened to burst from her throat at the irony of it all.

“You’re the one that never wants to talk,” she bit out as she spun around.

Lighting flashed across his eyes.

“You’re the one that left!” he exclaimed angrily.

“How could I not?” she swiftly replied, her voice rising an octave to match his.

“No goodbye. Nothing. You just dropped a letter on my desk and I never saw you again,” he continued as if she hadn’t even spoken.

Donna could hear how hurt he was and it tore at her but she had been harboring anguish of her own for months.

“I couldn’t say goodbye! I was afraid that if I just saw you one more time I wouldn’t have been able to walk away. And I needed to walk away Harvey. I couldn’t stand one more day of you looking at me like if you hated me.”

Her voice cracked and through her blurred vision she noticed the guilt that settled on his features.

“I could never hate you Donna,” he said almost breathlessly.

“Well it sure as hell felt like it.”

Slowly, he reached out, tenderly cupping her face as he wiped some of her tears away. Donna’s heart was lodged in her throat as she stood frozen. One simple touch and she was already burning.

“I’m sorry,” he said lowly.

“You can’t fix this,” she repeated.

“Donna-”

“I want more than you can give me,” she interrupted before he could say anything else.

She took a step back and his hand fell from her cheek and something in her immediately protested at the loss of contact.

“I want you,” Harvey proclaimed.

Donna shattered, shaking her head at his declaration because she couldn’t do this.

“Harvey-” she began but this time he was the one to cut her off.

“I do,” he said with conviction as he took a step towards her. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. And the things I said. You didn’t deserve any of that and I don’t even deserve your forgiveness.”

Her eyes welled up because she did forgive him. She made that decision a long time ago.

“I was angry at myself,” he added. “I blamed myself. You kissed me and I didn’t stop you. I didn’t do anything. I kissed back Donna. I enjoyed it and at that moment you were the only thing that I knew. The person that I was in a relationship with didn’t even cross my mind. And I…how does that make me any better than her?”

His eyes were glassy and Donna wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and pull him into the safety of her heart.

Right then he was nothing more than the lost boy who had been betrayed by his mother.

“You know it’s more complicated than that,” she said.

“I know that now,” he sighed. “I’m still trying to come to terms with all of it.”

Donna nodded, fully aware of his millions of demons that all resembled Lily Specter.

“When you left I came after you. But I was too late. Your plane had already left.”

Donna blinked in surprised. She had no idea.

All this time she believed that he just let her go. That he didn’t even try.

“And I was ready to buy a ticket myself and follow you all the way to Chicago but then I thought that maybe you’d be better off without me. I thought that you could be happy.”

I’m happiest with you she wanted to say but the sentence wouldn’t form.

“But God Donna I’m a selfish asshole and I can’t live without you. I’ve been miserable since you’ve been gone. I love you.”

“Love me how?” she croaked out, echoing a question from centuries ago.

Harvey moved even closer and the air between them grew thick with tension. Donna’s heart was thunder as she waited for an answer.

“More than anything in the world. I love you in a way that I’ve never loved anyone else before. In a way that makes me want to spend the rest of my life with you. Donna I want everything. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I’m just sorry it took me so long to accept it. I was afraid of screwing up and losing you. But in the end I lost you anyway.”

“You didn’t,” she managed to say, her gaze locked on his as the world faded away around them.

In one fell swoop their lips were crashing against each other, their souls colliding. Donna threw her arms around his neck and his were on her waist, holding her as close as possible. Her eyes fluttered shut as she disappeared within him, completely lost in the man she loved. For the first time in months, Donna was able to breathe again.

Harvey’s mouth moved against hers in desperation as he attempted to convey every emotion he felt for her. Donna matched his rhythm as she let him know that she knew. That she felt everything for him too.

As the storm raged outside, Donna and Harvey were electrified. The entire universe fell at their feet. They were the king and the queen of the moment because every single second ever spent had been leading up to this. This was the reason the earth had been created.

All of their walls came tumbling down.

Far too soon, they pulled away, eyes sparkling like champagne.

Donna was drunk on him.

Harvey leaned his forehead against hers and their breaths mingled as they tried to believe that this was really happening because it seemed too good to be true.

“Are you sure?” Donna couldn’t help but ask.

Do you really want all of this?

Sadness briefly flashed across his face because he knew he was the reason for all of her doubts.

“Of course,” he said, as if he had never been this sure of anything else.

“Good,” Donna replied, smiling. “Because I love you too.”

He let out a breath at her words as his eyes filled up, looking as if he had never heard anything so beautiful.

As if he couldn’t fully understand how he deserved such a thing.

Rising on her toes, Donna gently kissed him again. She moved her mouth languidly against his, letting him know that they had all the time in the world.

This was a kiss filled with promise.

“I guess we’ll both be taking the bed tonight,” she said when she pulled away again.

A laugh escaped him as he nodded, staring at her as if she was more precious than gold and just like that she was reduced to nothing.

Taking that as his cue, Harvey led her towards his room where they immediately collapsed on his bed, a messy heap of giggles and adoration.

Donna’s veins were filled with sunshine as they continued to lose themselves in the other. New York City was a village of ice but wrapped up in Harvey, she had never experienced such warmth.

In his arms she found home again.

Eventually, she began drifting off to the beating of Harvey’s heart and Donna knew that the moon could fall from the sky and she wouldn’t have cared. Nothing else mattered but them.

They were everything.

[j-esbian]

night terrors and sweet dreams - chp. 4

chp. 3

on ao3

Nino’s favorite spot in the library was on the second level, along the front wall, in the corner farthest from the door. There was a little nook, where the walls extended past the last of shelves, without leaving enough space for another set, and in that corner, someone had wedged a table and two chairs. The table was chronically wobbly and cramped, and the only space for the chairs was facing the wall; it didn't appeal to many, so he never had to fight for his seat.

The hidden treasure, though, was the three power outlets under the table. Elsewhere in the library, students had to fight and sweat over a chance to charge their phones. It made Nino feel like a king.

Adrien often had Chinese lessons during study hall, but when he was there, he co-opted the other chair and made the corner seem a little less lonely.

When Nino showed up, both seats were already full; Alya and Adrien were hunched over something, heads huddled together. Nino bounded over to them and, placing a casual elbow on each of their shoulders, asked, “What's up?”

“Watching porn,” Alya said without missing a beat.

Adrien sputtered. “What? Alya! No--This is the library!”

She snickered, elbowing Adrien playfully in the ribs. “Chill out, dude.” She turned to Nino. “Watching old videos of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Oh. Lame. Why?”

“D’Argentcourt’s getting on my ass again,” Adrien groaned. “Apparently my form is ‘abysmal’ and I would ‘do well to observe a true master of fencing technique, like Chat Noir.” He sighed heavily and added under his breath, “Which is completely ridiculous, but whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, Adrien? Why is that ridiculous?” Alya asked. “Maybe because you’re Chat Noir and you can’t learn from yourself?”

Adrien stared blankly at her, and Nino giggled. “Al, come on, let it go.”

“I will not!”

“I meant because he doesn't even have a sword,” Adrien retorted.

She grinned. “I find it a little suspicious that you refuse to give me an actual answer. And, you know, not for nothing, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you and Chat Noir in the same room before.”

“You’re right,” Nino said, glaring pointedly at Adrien. “I haven’t, either.”

Adrien sank down in his chair; the tips of his ears turned red.

“Anyway,” Alya continued, oblivious. “I wanted to put together a video for the blog; kind of a ‘best hits’ thing, you know? And this totally counts as helping him study.”

“Alright,” Nino said. “I mean, it's better than what I had planned.” He spun his phone around between two fingers. “But dudes, we have a new trailer.”

“What?!” Alya screeched. She yanked her phone away from Adrien and typed “sparrow feather fall trailer” in the address bar.

“Two and a half minutes,” Adrien whispered reverentially.  “This is a good day.”

“ Ahem.” A nasally voice from behind startled them. “You three are being disruptive.”

They whipped around to see Mr. Fournier glaring at them. Alya quickly set her phone facedown on the table.

“We were just studying,” she began.

But the librarian wasn't fooled. “Turn your phone over.”

Busted . As soon as he saw YouTube on the screen, he held out his hand. Alya opened her mouth to protest, but saw Adrien and Nino eyeing her warily, and decided against it. She placed her phone reluctantly in his outstretched hand, and he tucked it in his breast pocket.

“You can have it back after study hall is over,” he said. The effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that Alya’s phone barely fit into his pocket, and kept seeming in danger of toppling out.

Alya and Nino covered their faces, trying to hide their quiet laughter  as surreptitiously as possible. Adrien managed to school his face into something resembling shame. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”

Mr. Fournier nodded sternly. “Quiet,” he reminded them, before slinking away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Alya and Adrien rounded on Nino.

“ No spoilers,” Adrien warned.

“Of course not,” Nino said. “It’s just, Melody and Mercury showed up for a few seconds. And we have an official release date.”

The others’ faces lit up. “Shiiiiit,” they breathed in unison.

“January 19th,” Nino added smugly.

Alya’s face fell. “Aw, man. Seriously?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s my parents’ anniversary.” She scowled. “I’m probably going to have to babysit. I won’t be able to go!”

Adrien shrugged. “That sucks. Guess it’s just going to be me and Nino.”

“Hell yeah, you and me.” Nino pumped his fist. “We can make a bro’s night out of it. Maybe you can convince your dad to let me spend the night, and we’ll go out for waffles in the morning--”

“Or,” Alya interrupted, “we could literally go the next day.”

“Hmm.” Adrien tapped his chin. “We could do that, except…” He pulled out his phone and quickly typed something in. “Oh, look at that, tickets are already on sale! And it looks like I’ve already bought two tickets. Sorry.”

Alya tried to scowl at him, but it slipped into an easygoing grin. “Assholes.”

Nino looked offended and laid a hand innocently across his chest. “Sometimes, Alya, a man just wants to go on a date with his best friend.”

It should have been a completely innocuous joke, but Adrien heard a high-pitched whining sound and realized, after a few seconds, that it was emanating from him . It petered out, slowly, after he noticed it, and his face flamed.

Alya smirked at him. “Dude, are you leaking?”

Nino snorted. “Yeah, the real Adrien couldn’t make it to school today, so I brought an inflatable one.” He patted Adrien randomly, on the head and chest and shoulder, and pushed his glasses up. “Hmm. I don’t see a rip anywhere…”

“No, Nino, what are you--” Adrien shrugged him off and smoothed down his shirt, avoiding their eyes.

“You feeling okay, Adrien?” Alya asked.

“Yeah, totally!” he replied. His phone buzzed, and he jumped, knocking it off the table. As he bent down, Alya and Nino traded glances.

“Oh, crap,” Adrien said, checking his phone as he straightened back up. He started to gather his things. “My tutor just texted me and said she’s here. 我得走了!”

“Sure, dude…” Nino said slowly.

“Uhh...sorry, I gotta go.” Adrien laughed uneasily. “Okay, see you guys later, bye!” He stumbled off, bag dangling precariously close to his tripping feet, and rushed out the door.

“When’s the last time he slept?” Alya asked.

Nino lowered himself into the newly vacated seat. “A couple days, maybe?”

“What does he even do that keeps him up that late?”

“Dunno. Dude’s busy.” Nino shrugged and started unpacking his bag. Alya put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

“Fournier didn’t take away your phone…” she began, batting her eyelashes.

Nino twisted his head around to check that the coast was clear, and pulled up the trailer.

Adrien was feeling restless, and when that was the case, he usually decided to hop out and stretch his legs. Unfortunately, there was a swarm of people below his window; his father was throwing a launch party for his new line, and Adrien was stuck.

He could probably have joined them if he wanted. But he really, really didn't want.

He wandered downstairs and found himself in the kitchen, suddenly overcome with the desire to bake something. He rifled around in the cabinets, trying to find a cookbook.

“Hey, Plagg?” he asked. “What’s something that’s easy to make.”

“Hmm...“ Plagg landed on the kitchen counter and sat down. “Fondue! It’s super easy. All you have to do is melt some cheese, and then you can stick things in it! Like your face.”

Adrien paused in his search to glare at the kwami.

“What am I, Siri?” Plagg asked, kicking his legs against the counter’s edge. Adrien scowled.

His hands scrabbled along the top shelf, out of his sight, but he felt his fingers brush against the spine of a book, and he grabbed it victoriously. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling it forward.

He didn’t realize how awkwardly angled the book was above his head, until it tipped forward off the shelf, headed straight for his face.

“Woah!”

Adrien stumbled backwards, but the corner still snagged his cheek on the way down. He managed to catch it with his chest, and wrapped his arms around it to hold it there. Panting, he threw the book down on the counter to flip it open and found, to his disappointment, that the title was in English. He vaguely recognized the cover as something his mother would pull out every time they had American visitors over for dinner.

“Come on, seriously?” he groaned. “Hey, Plagg, can you fly up there and point me to a cookbook that I can read ?”

Plagg laid down and flopped onto his belly. “I could.”

“ Will you?”

“Nope.”

Adrien sighed. “You’re the worst sometimes.”

“I’m extremely lazy,” Plagg corrected. “You know, in some cultures, that’s admired. It’s the mark of a king.”

“Actually, you’re the worst all the time,” Adrien continued.

Plagg grinned up at him. “Come on, kid, practice those language skills!”

“Whatever.” Adrien started flipping through the book, looking at the pictures, and stopped near the end. “This looks good. And there’s not that many ingredients, so it’s probably easy. Come on, Plagg, we’re making brownies.” He squinted down at the page. “What’s a table-spoon?”

“I think it’s those big spoons you use to serve stuff,” Plagg said.

Adrien dug around in the drawers until he found a big metal spoon. “Done.”

“And you need a teaspoon, too,” Plagg added. “I think those are just the normal-sized ones.”

“And a cup,” Adrien said. He grabbed a glass from the dishwasher. “All right, let’s get started.”

Half an hour later, Adrien came down to take the brownies out of the oven.

“It smells like vanilla in here,” Plagg whined.

Adrien took a deep breath and grinned. “Mhm. Isn’t it great?”

But when he opened the oven, he was confronted with a cloud of black smoke, and the smell of something horribly, disgustingly burnt . He dropped the pan on the counter and coughed. It was nearly empty, except for some charred crumbs in the corners.

Plagg covered his nose. “What did you do ?”

Adrien shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! I followed the directions!” He hung his head. “I thought I did, at least.”

“Aren’t you friends with the baker girl?” Plagg asked.

“You’re right!” Adrien reached for his phone. “Marinette will be able to help.”

He dialed her number, and it rang and rang and rang.

“ Hi, you’ve reached Marinette! Leave a message!”

Frustrated, he hung up. At the same time, a notification popped up on his phone:

Alya Césaire is streaming live! Don’t miss it!

“Oh, yeah,” Adrien said. “Alya has her interview with Ladybug. Everyone’s probably watching that right now.”

He dropped the pan in the sink and ran some water in it, before bolting back upstairs to log onto his computer. He pulled up the Ladyblog on his central monitor and turned his volume up.

“So, Ladybug,” Alya was asking. “What exactly is your relationship with Chat Noir? I know we’re all wondering, especially after--”

Ladybug interrupted her. “I think I’ve made myself pretty clear about this already, Alya.” She laughed nervously. “Like I told Nadja Chamack, and you, and that guy Vincent something-or-other, and literally everyone else that’s ever asked--Chat is just a friend. He’s my partner, and my best friend, but we’re not dating.”

“No, of course!” Alya replied hastily. “I meant, like, do you keep in touch in your civilian lives? Or is it strictly work between you two?”

“Oh.” Ladybug’s cheeks flushed beneath her mask. “No, it’s just a work relationship. Nobody knows my secret identity, and, well, I can’t speak for Chat, but I hope it’s the same for him.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. She was always going on about that, it seemed.

Alya asked another question, but Adrien was already bored; this wasn’t anything new, really. It just felt like an excuse for Alya to hang out with Ladybug, and he didn’t see why she needed to stream that to the rest of the world. He muted his computer.

“Hey, I was listening to that!” Plagg protested.

Adrien stared at him flatly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice white noise to fall asleep to,” Plagg said. “Besides, I thought you just had to listen to like, everything Ladybug ever says.”

Adrien scoffed. “I’m just not interested this time.”

Plagg looked at him skeptically; if he had eyebrows, one would have been raised at Adrien.

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to play Overwatch. Leave me alone.”

“Whatever,” Plagg said, adding under his breath, “ fake fan .”

[tinybyul]

The Jewel of Starlight

Synopsis: Brought together by the impending vampire-human war, eight men from vastly different origins band together on a quest to find a long-forgotten artifact that will restore order to the continent of Gudae.

Author’s Note: So basically I’m just gonna say “fuck it” and post this story on here too aside from ao3. That being said, there are more chapters from this story in ao3, and I will be uploading chapters there first. Put simply, the chapters that are going to be posted on here will not be the latest ones, so I highly suggest you check out the story on ao3 to be caught up. Anyway, please enjoy the second chapter of this story!! If you want to read the first chapter and any other chapters I will post in the future, check out the “tjos” tag on my blog.

Chapter Two: The Woodland Tower

The fallen leaves rustled in the wake of an unknown figure dashing through the forest. Two guards of the Woodland Tower followed close behind the dashing figure. The guards heaved begrudgingly, wondering how a person who they thought seemed so meek could possess such athletic ability. The pair had been chasing the figure in a full sprint for what seemed like an entire afternoon. The innate athletic ability of elves was far beyond those of humans, but it still did not explain how the figure pranced around the woods endlessly without breaking a sweat.

One of the guards, having had enough of the cat and mouse game, started to slow down gradually. It was his duty to keep chasing after the woodland elf, but he could not help the tiredness of his body. His mind also grew weary as this was not the first time such an event had occurred.

Just as he was ready to give up, the elf suddenly came to a halt, prompting the guards to stop dead in their tracks and keep a watchful eye. They started inching closer, being careful not to alert the figure of their presence. If the person knew that they were being followed, they would flee once more, restarting the exhausting chase neither guard was mentally nor physically in the state for.

"Are you alright, my good friend?" the figure asked, with a voice as smooth and soft as the finest silk money could buy.

The figure bent down, scooping up a lump of brown fur in their arms. Seeing that the elf was distracted, the guards quickened their pace. Now they were just mere feet away.

"Fret not, dear friend. I'll take you back home and make sure your wounds are healed. Then, you can go back to your own home. Trust me, for now," the sweet voice reassured, the depth in pitch creating a soothing contrast to the honey-like tone.

The voice was so calming that hearing it felt almost like a lullaby. It was a gentle tune that could heal the soul and ease the mind. A voice with healing ability, like that of the elf the guards had been chasing, was indicative of an individual's talent in medicine and healing.

The guards were now directly behind the elf. Despite their close proximity, the mysterious wanderer, knowing full well that the guards were behind him, remained calm.

"The chase is over for now. Our precious friend here is in need of assistance," the man said as he turned, an injured brown rabbit held cautiously in his arms.

"Yes, Prince Yeosang," a guard replied, relieved that the king's youngest son spared them of more exhaustion.

They made their way back to the tower in much less time than it had taken to run away from it. Yeosang considered the chase a game and would glide around trees and weave through the forest with many confusing, winding turns. This meant that the distance from the castle to the place where the injured rabbit was found was not nearly as far as it seemed. For this, the guards were relieved yet angered. They were glad the way back was not as long as they expected but annoyed at the obvious game the prince was playing.

Once in the tower, Yeosang made his way to his quarters, quickly tending to the distressed rabbit. Having concentrated solely on the task at hand, Yeosang did not hear his eldest brother enter.

The Crown Prince of the Woodland Tower was a firm, strict man. He had a disdain for playing games and other foolish nonsense that others, like Yeosang, would deem as fun. This is why Yeosang tried his best to avoid him. The Crown Prince believed that the King and Queen were far too lenient on their youngest, and having been close to a decade older, the Crown Prince felt that it was his duty to teach his youngest brother how to act in a manner fit for a prince.

The Crown Prince stood behind Yeosang and sighed deeply with an annoyed expression. This finally caught Yeosang's attention, but he felt it was more important to tend to his new friend than to waste time with pleasantries.

"Hyungnim, what brings you here?" Yeosang asked nonchalantly, keeping most of his concentration on the rabbit.

"There are far better things you could have been doing with your time than running around the forest and tiring out your guards," his brother huffed.

Yeosang bandaged up the rabbit and gently placed it down on his bed. He smiled down at the rabbit before turning around and looking up at his brother.

"I'm sure there was, Your Highness," Yeosang responded, smiling as if his words didn't just fuel his brother's anger.

The Crown Prince's frustration was boiling over. He was usually a calm and sensible man, but Yeosang always found a way to push his buttons until he exploded.

"I don't understand how a prince with the talent and skill you possess could remain so docile. Don't you ever want to do anything greater with your life? You are among the most skilled in elvish medicine yet you waste it away on what? A mere rabbit? There are hundreds of those in the area alone; the world would not stop if a single rabbit died!"

Just as the Crown Prince finished his rant, tension rose in the air. The usually laid-back Yeosang stiffened as the air around him darkened. He did not mind the insults as they reflected more on the Crown Prince than Yeosang himself. However, he could not stand the Crown Prince's arrogant words towards the end of his rant.

"A life is a life," Yeosang fumed, "and the world will keep turning when I die and even when you die. Just because you don't find importance in the life of something smaller than you does not mean it is any less significant to the world."

The Crown Prince scoffed.

"If only you had as much passion for your kingdom as you do for a rabbit," the Crown Prince mocked.

"I am passionate about my kingdom!" Yeosang retorted.

"Then prove it," the Crown Prince said, "Father wants me to go meet with the Grandmaster of Misty Hollow. It seems with the way things are going, Father seeks council from the old wizard."

Yeosang begrudgingly listened. He did not wish to continue the conversation with his eldest brother, but with the mention of Grandmaster Jung, he felt he had no choice. Grandmaster Jung was their Father's close friend and mentor; however, with both of them being so busy with their duties as leaders, they only interacted directly once every few years. Whatever the King wanted from Grandmaster Jung must have been important if he were to send the Crown Prince.

"So you want me to go in your place," Yeosang guessed.

"Exactly. I have my own things to attend to here in the Woodland Tower, and it would be good for you to do something productive for once," the Crown Prince replied with a taunting smile.

"Father wants you to go."

"I'll speak to him and tell him that you volunteered to go. Grandmaster Jung would not turn you away, and I'm sure Father will be relieved that his youngest son is finally taking his role as a prince seriously," the Crown Prince answered with a smug look.

Yeosang looked down toward the sleeping rabbit on his bed pensively. He figured he didn't have a choice; he did not have any reason to refuse and would be forced to go regardless. However, neither of his parents would allow him to leave the Woodland Tower's realm without his guards, and the thought of traveling from the Woodland Tower to Misty Hollow with the two pesky guards assigned to him made him want to roll his eyes and never set foot outside of his kingdom. He will have to dispose of them somehow.

"You leave in the morning," the Crown Prince stated after not receiving a reply.

The Crown Prince left Yeosang's quarters with a satisfied expression, leaving Yeosang and the rabbit alone. With the Crown Prince gone, Yeosang prepared the necessities for the journey ahead of him and slept next to the rabbit on his bed. He would leave earlier than scheduled, he decided. By the time the guards awoke, he would already be much too far to follow.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Well-Seasoned

AO3 | FFdotnet

Aang and seasonings throughout the seasons of the show as the seasons pass.

Written for Aang Week 2017. Prompt - Seasons.

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aang & the Gaang, Aang & Katara, Aang & Zuko Characters: Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Suki, Mai, Ty Lee, Iroh, The Gaang Additional Tags: Cooking, Friendship, Cultural Differences

Hey guys! Aang week is almost over, and it’s been a blast! If you’ve been enjoying my fics feel free to follow me - this is an Avatarverse blog and I do write fanfic often enough that I’d say I’m an active writer. Also feel free to check out my AO3, I’ve got more stories there, too.

“What’s that?” Aang asked, watching Katara rub the fish Sokka had caught with some sort of green powder.

“Qanik,” she said, her smile bittersweet. “It’s a seaweed - we dry it out and grind it up into powder to use as seasoning. But it’s really hard to make - you can only harvest qanik two months out of the year, and since half the tribe left to fight we haven’t been able to harvest a lot.” She flipped the fish over and started rubbing the powder on its other side. “I found a jar of it with the stuff Gran-Gran packed for us. I guess she wanted us to taste a bit of home.”

The last of the Water Tribe food packed by Gran-Gran had run out half a week ago. They still had plenty of supplies thanks to the good people of Kyoshi Island, but Aang could tell his friends were starting to realize just how far from home they were traveling. Sokka was suspicious of every unfamiliar vegetable, and Katara was taking rice cooking as a personal challenge.

Aang gave her an encouraging smile. “That was really thoughtful of her. Spices don’t go bad like other food - you can probably make it last until we get to the North Pole!”

“I hope so,” Katara said. “And I hope they have qanik, too. Or something like it.”

“What’s it taste like?” Aang asked.

“Like a gentle slap of sea on your food.” She finished with the fish and regarded the spice jar. “Would you like to try some?”

“I’d love to! I’ve tried Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation spices, don’t think I’ve had any Water Tribe kinds before.”

“I’ll add it to your rice,” Katara said, and she shot a glower at simmering the cooking pot. “I’m pretty sure I managed to not undercook it this time. Or overcook it.”

“Eighth time’s the charm,” Aang grinned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help - ”

“No. I’ve got this.”

Or she was getting it, at least. The rice was only a little overcooked. But the qanik made up for it.

“Guess who splurged at the market!” Sokka crowed as he and Toph came back to their camp, arms laden with supplies.

“I’m guessing you guys,” Aang said from where he was sitting very still on the ground. “I’m getting better at this earth sense thing. I actually felt you guys walking before I saw you!”

“Great job, Twinkletoes. Maybe in a few decades you’ll manage to get the drop on me!”

“Splurged?!” Katara repeated, looking up from the cooking pot to shoot them an accusing look. “Sokka, we’ve been over this - we can’t go wasting our money!”

“Relax, Sugar Queen, it’s my money,” Toph said. “I grabbed some before I left my parents’ house. Anyway, here.” She held out a small bottle filled with reddish-brown powder. “I thought your cooking could use a boost.”

“If we were in the South Pole my cooking would be perfect,” Katara huffed.

“Aw, I think you’ve been doing great cooking on the road,” Aang said, getting up and stepping toward Toph.

“I like your cooking,” Sokka said.

“You’ll eat anything,” Katara shot back.

Aang took the bottle Toph was still holding out. “Hey, this is five-spice!”

“What’s five-spice?” Sokka asked.

Toph’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You guys have trekked across the Earth Kingdom twice and you don’t know what five-spice is?”

“Most of that time was spent avoiding fireballs!”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume it’s a blend of five spices,” Katara said.

“Brilliant deduction, Sweetness.”

“Star anise, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, and fennel seeds,” Aang said absently, turning the bottle over in his hands. “It’s good.”

“I figured dinner could use some more flavors.”

Katara took the bottle from Aang’s hand, opened it, and took a sniff. Her eyes lit up. “Oh! I think we’ve had this before in some villages, I just never thought to ask what it was. It’s good!”

“Glad you agree with me,” Toph said with a wave of her hand. “Can you add it to tonight’s dinner? I’m blind, I’d like to enjoy my other senses as much as I can.”

“Aang,” Zuko said, “you do know what that is, right?”

“Sure I do,” Aang grinned. “It’s a seven-pot pepper.”

“And do you know what that is?”

“The hottest pepper in the world.”

“And what are you planning to do with it?”

Aang grinned. “Eat it!”

Zuko was starting to severely regret bringing them all to the Ember Island house. He’d completely forgotten about his mother’s prized pepper garden, which was apparently still growing taste bud-murdering fruit after six years of abandonment. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Sure I’m sure! Kuzon, Bumi, and I challenged each other to eat one of these once. We wound up crying on the floor while Monk Gyatso nearly passed out laughing. It was great.”

“...Okay then. So long as you know what you’re getting into.” He looked from Aang to Sokka. “Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I’ve been eating your spicy food since we hijacked a Fire Navy ship,” Sokka said, turning the pepper in his fingers by the stem. “I’m prepared for this!”

Zuko looked to Katara, Toph, Suki, and the peppers they held. “Are you guys sure you want to do this?”

“You only live once,” Toph said, sniffing the pepper in her hand.

“C’mon, Zuko,” Suki grinned, holding out another pepper. “It’s a team-building exercise!”

“You can’t come up with any better team-building exercises?”

“Our original team-building exercises involved whooping your butt,” Katara pointed out.

“Apparently they still do,” Zuko muttered, taking the pepper from Suki. He took a moment to contemplate it, and recalled fond memories of his mother and cousin cry-laughing on the ground as they’d eaten these things while a horrified Ozai watched. “Why do all team-building exercises have to hurt?”

“Okay guys!” Aang said. “We’ve got jugs of water for when we need them! Let’s do it!”

They all bit into their peppers.

“MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE!” Suki shrieked.

“THIS IS TERRIBLE! I THINK I LOVE IT!” Toph shouted.

“WHY DID I DO THIS WHY WHY WHY??”

“WATER! WHERE’S THE WATER?!”

By the end they were all laid out in the courtyard, watched by a worried Appa and Momo, who were very confused as to why their humans had gone and bit into what obviously smelled like torture.

“Katara,” Sokka moaned, “Katara my tongue needs healing.”

“M’healin’ m’own tongue firs’!”

Aang was curled into the fetal position beside Zuko, giggling through his tears. “Ohhhhhhh that was just as bad as I remembered it.”

“Why did my mother grow this monster?” Zuko panted, staring up at the clouds. The cool air on his tongue helped a bit.

“Because she had good taste?”

“I’m starting to think she had no sense of taste.”

Aang laughed. “C’mon Zuko, it’s the hottest pepper in the world! Of course she’d want it in her garden!”

Zuko slowly blinked up at the sky and turned to look at Aang. “The seven-pot pepper isn’t the hottest pepper in the world.”

“Yeah it is! It’s the - it’s - it’s been a hundred years, oh, don’t tell me…”

Zuko managed to twist his tortured mouth into a grin. “A while back, Komodo Island bred a new strain of pepper. They call it the Komodo Dragon.”

“Oh, spirits,” Aang said, and he pushed himself up from the ground and peered towards the path that led back towards the pepper garden. “Did your mom plant that one too?”

One autumn evening, shortly after arriving back in Ba Sing Se after a sojourn to the Eastern Air Temple, Aang insisted on overseeing dinner. One of the packs on Appa’s saddle was bulging with odd vegetables and plump fruits that Aang handled with a bittersweet smile. Sokka resigned himself to a meal without meat, but the promise of a traditional Air Nomad fruit pie, baked to Monk Gyatso’s exacting standards and not meant to be thrown at anybody, more than made up for it.

“I want to try and find more sky bison,” Aang said as he took over the Jasmine Dragon’s kitchen. “Next time I have time to go off to the mountains, I’m gonna go looking.”

“You really think you’ll find some?” Katara asked, laying out cooking utensils. Beside her, Mai was eyeing Iroh’s kitchen knives judgmentally.

“I’m sure there’s more out there. There were always wild herds,” Aang said. “And just because people say something’s extinct, it doesn’t mean it is.” He shot a pointed look at Zuko, who answered with a wry smile, and Iroh, who smirked into his teacup. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to the onion-like plant in his hand. “Jimbu always tastes better when you fry it in ghee.”

“What’s ghee?” Toph asked. She was sitting beside Iroh, teacup in hand.

“A special kind of butter. We made it from bison milk.”

“Aang, why is there a rock in with all the food?” Suki asked from where she and Ty Lee were sorting out the contents of the saddlebag.

“A rock?” Toph repeated. “What kind of rock?”

“It’s pink!” Ty Lee grinned. “It’s so pretty! I love it!”

“Rose quartz?” Toph surmised. “Twinkletoes, I know you said you need to feel the earth, that doesn’t mean you need to eat it!”

Aang laughed. “It’s not quartz, it’s salt,” he said, taking the rock from Suki. A bit of earthbending and part of it crumbled into tiny pieces in his hand. He handed the rest over to Toph.

“Salt?” Katara asked. She and Sokka were frowning at the rock in Toph’s hands.

So was Zuko. “That doesn’t look like salt.”

Aang laughed. “Not everyone gets their salt from the sea, guys! We used to mine it out of the mountains.”

“Pink salt!” Ty Lee looked absolutely delighted.

“We’ve got salt mines in the Earth Kingdom,” Toph said, turning the rock over in her hands before handing it back to Aang. “I’ve never been too clear on colors, but from what I understand it’s not usually pink. Anything special about pink salt, Twinkletoes?”

Aang shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s just...pink.”

“Being pink is enough to make anything special,” Ty Lee said.

“You’re special enough,” Mai muttered, and Ty Lee beamed.

“It’s special to Aang,” Katara said, and she looked at the pile of jimbu sitting on the counter. “So do we cut this or is there some other way to prepare it?”

“We used to dry it to use all year round,” Aang said. “But you can use it fresh, too. Let’s save the leaves and chop up the rest. We can dry the leaves out and fry them in butter later. It won’t be ghee, but it’ll still be good.”

“Doesn’t sound hard,” Katara said, handing Aang a knife.

“No harder than rice,” Aang grinned.

[ylla]

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 5

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: celebrity au, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy), meeting some of the fam, dirty talk, dicc succing, josuke and okuyasu go on a learning journey together Rating: E (YEAHHHH TIME FOR SOME SEXY STUFF)

AO3 link

LONG TIME, NO SEE. Sorry for taking 10000 years to update. I’ve got a 20 hour unpaid internship, 20 hour work week, and a full class load on top of it all. I’m slowly losing my mind! :’D But, I’ve been plugging along at this for awhile, and now it is bearing fruit, so I hope that you all will enjoy the new chapter. I can’t give a time frame of when I’ll have the next one up, as I absolutely have to update TMBTP and also finish a commission, but hopefully it will be sooner than later!

Also, fair warning, this chapter is where the fic earns it’s explicit rating :’) I hope the smut isn’t awfully written, and if it is, it’s due to me hooting like a 12 year old the entire time I wrote it.

A FEW THINGS OF NOTE:

- manxom has given me the good content, and helped me flesh out FNG so much, that i gave them co-author status! They’re real, and strong, and my friend, and has really helped me shape the AU!

- puffle-tuff who is a friend and boi drew Oku and Josuke watching RHoA together! FOLLOW THEIR ART BLOG, THEY’RE SO GOOD! 

- emberandcelica made a spotify playlist for FNG, and it’s really good! So go check it out when you get the chance! 

As always, remember to comment on the fic, kudos the fic, and bookmark the fic to see more of the same fic content.

The worst part of being a world-famous musician, in Josuke’s opinion, was the tedious amount of boring business shit you ended up sitting through. Contracts, scheduling interviews, planning photoshoots; it felt endless at times. Really, being in the business of being yourself could be so dreadful, and Josuke avoided as much as he could. He was a busy man, with a 3 week young relationship with an amazing guy and a load of other horseshit to take care of. The only way Koichi could get him to stay in one place long enough to go over everything was to corner him while they ate at a restaurant, which was exactly what was happening at that moment as they waited for their significant others to appear. “Morioh Records wants you to come by sometime in October to talk about your contract with the new CEO,” Koichi passed Josuke the email he printed out. Josuke made a face while reading it before sliding it back across the table. Morioh Records was his label, and while they had always been good to him, Josuke hadn’t heard anything great about the new guy in charge. He scowled, “I’m good through the next year, why does he wanna talk to me about it already?” Koichi shrugged, “He wants to get all of his ducks in a row, I guess.” “What’s his name again?” “Kira Yoshikage.” “Never heard of him,” Josuke sniffed. “He was some anonymous board member that somehow got appointed as CEO when the other guy retired.” Koichi pulled out another piece of paper, “Last thing, I swear,” he quickly added when Josuke rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they were about to pop out of his head, “Calvin Klein called, they wanna do another underwear ad campaign with you.” Josuke perked up at that, “Really? Hell yeah, I’m down.” “Thought you would be. I’ll email them and say you’re up for it,” Koichi looked at his phone with a slight frown, “I figured Yukako and Okuyasu would be here by now. Wonder where they are…” As if summoned by magic, Okuyasu and Yukako blew into the private room they were in. Oku had a strange look on his face as he plopped down in the chair beside Josuke, “Keicho has a girlfriend he didn’t tell me about,” he said in lieu of a greeting. Yukako pressed a kiss on Koichi’s forehead before sitting in the chair beside him, “He doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Okuyasu pointed a finger at her, “They go on dates. And you should’ve told me.” “They aren’t official, and it’s none of my business,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Josuke furrowed his eyebrows, “Wait, what?” Instead of responding, Okuyasu fished his phone out of his pocket, and opened up a text message before handing it off to Josuke, “It’s easier to just read it.” Clearly, it was something that was bothering his boyfriend; Josuke turned his eyes to a group chat titled DICKHEAD. Okuyasu: yooooo who wants to get wings with me tonight????? Okuyasu: keicho u gotta come with Big Bro💣: No. Okuyasu: well y the fuck not??? Big Bro💣: I’m busy. Okuyasu: too busy for ur little brother??? breakin my heart over here ;)n(; ☠Fungi☠: oku what the fuck is that face Okuyasu: ITS ME!!! IM SAD!!!! Okuyasu: bro what r u doin thats more important than eatin food ☠Fungi☠: yeah keicho, way to be transparent with your bros Big Bro💣: It’s none of your concern. Go eat gross shit with your boyfriend and don’t annoy me with it. :| A bunch of text messages were Okuyasu and Yuuya needling Keicho, with him responding with various ways of saying ‘shut the fuck up’, until Yukako spoke. YuYu Kakosho👊💥: He’s probably seeing that girl I caught him with back in March. Okuyasu: WHAT ☠Fungi☠: oh shit Toilet Hazmat🚽☣: kek Okuyasu: U DIDNT TELL ME??? Big Bro💣: Goddamn you, Yukako. You said you wouldn’t say anything.  YuYu Kakosho👊💥: I’m tired of having my phone blow up. Get it out of your systems now. ☠Fungi☠: you got a girlfriend, keicho?? Someone strike up the band Okuyasu: Y DIDNT U TELL US Big Bro💣: 1) She’s not my girlfriend, and 2) You two screaming is exactly why I didn’t. The rest of the messages were just Yuuya sending suggestive emojis and Keicho threatening to inflict violence upon his person. “Sooo, he’s seeing someone?” Josuke asked. Okuyasu scowled, “Yeah, that blonde-haired fuck. He didn’t tell me.” He sunk down in his chair, face sullen, “Why would he hide that from me?” “Because Keicho never tells anyone anything about his personal life,” Yukako interjected, face neutral. “I’m his brother—” She raised an eyebrow, “I’ve only known you people for three years, and I can see why Keicho Nijimura keeps everything close to the chest.” Koichi had busied himself with his phone, “Don’t take it to heart, he most likely has his reasons.” “Still, we’re all the only family we got left. I don’t wanna hear about things in his life from other people.” Yukako sighed exasperatedly, “If it makes you feel better, the only reason I know this is because I happened to see him with her at that coffee shop.” “What were they doing? What does she look like?” Josuke leaned in. He didn’t care about Keicho or his love life, but he sure did love hot gossip. “Talking. He had his hand on her arm, she was blushing and giggling. Typical flirting.” Yukako took a sip of Koichi’s tea, “She’s not like any of the other girls I’ve ever seen him with; no tattoos or piercings. Has long, curly brown hair, blue eyes, petite. I’d put her at about 5'2 or 5'3. Very pretty."  "Damn girl, you really have an eye for that kind of thing,” Josuke said thoughtfully, “How did he find out you knew and how did he buy your silence.” “Took a picture of them together, sent it to him later that night. Got a promise that he’d do me favors in exchange for me not repeating what I saw.” Josuke whistled, “Cold-blooded.” Yukako merely shrugged, “That’s the nature of the beast.” Okuyasu sighed, but said nothing. Josuke frowned a little at him, “Since you don’t really have plans, do you wanna get pizza with me and some of my family tonight?” Oku waved a hand, “Don’t need ya to take pity on me.” At that, Josuke rolled his eyes, “I’m not, I want you to come out with us. You gotta meet them anyways.” “Hmm…who’s gonna be there?” “Polnareff, his boyfriend, my nephew, his husband, and their daughter. Pol’s sister may be there too.” “…Does this place have wings?” “All you can eat.” Okuyasu smacked his hand on the table, grin replacing his scowl, “I’m sold.” “Good shit, I’ll let them know,” Josuke brushed his hand over the one Oku smacked down onto the table, “You’ll like 'em, they’re good people.” “Josuke,” Koichi interrupted, “I emailed the Calvin Klein people. They’re going to get in touch with us to schedule the shoot.” “C-Calvin Klein?” Okuyasu stuttered. “Yeah, doing another underwear ad campaign for them.” “O-oh. That’s…good…” Okuyasu’s face was blood red.  Before Josuke could ask what was up, a waiter sprang up to take their orders. Questions for another time.

Meeting at Pineapple Larry’s Pizzeria for dinner, followed by a couple hours at the arcade was a tradition that dated back ten years. Originally it had just been Polnareff, his boyfriend, Josuke’s nephew, and his now husband, but then grew to include Pol’s little sister, Josuke’s niece, and Josuke himself.  When he and Okuyasu breezed in, Josuke was in the process of warning him that his nephew was taciturn, his niece would bully him into playing Street Fighter II, and that everyone was great, save for the fact that they liked to put pineapple on their pizza. Josuke couldn’t give anymore heads up when his 5 year old niece went flying into his boyfriend’s arms. “Oku!!!"  "Hey, it’s my favorite bunhead!” Okuyasu caught her in a hug, “How you been, Jolyne Cuisine?” “Good!” “Uh, what?” Josuke asked, perplexed.  Jolyne waved at her uncle, “Hi, uncle Josuke!” Okuyasu did a double take, “Uncle?” She looked between the two of them, “Uncle Josuke, do you know Oku too??” “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend–” Jolyne gasped and hugged Okuyasu harder, “Really?? Wowie, that’s awesome!” She grinned, her front left tooth missing, “Now I’m gonna have two cool uncles.” Josuke felt his face go crimson, and was only mildly relieved when he saw the same color mirrored on Oku’s face. A man with flaming red hair, cherry earrings, and tattoos strolled up to them, “Jo, don’t choke him.” “'Kay, daddy! I’m gonna tell pops that Oku’s here!!” She hopped down, and took off towards the back of the restaurant.  “Sorry, Okuyasu,” Noriaki Kujo smiled, “You know how she can get.” “S'fine, I uh, didn’t know you guys were related?” Noriaki laughed, “Yeah, Josuke’s technically my uncle.” “What the fuck, dude, why didn’t you tell me you knew Oku??” Josuke asked incredulously. “Where would the fun be in that?” Noriaki responded with a toss of his singular hair curl. Josuke learned as they walked to the table that Okuyasu had been patronizing Hierophant Green, Noriaki’s tattoo parlor, for a long time. “He did me and Keicho’s memorial tattoos for our mom,” Okuyasu explained as they followed Jolyne to the back. “Not to mention all those cover-ups,” Noriaki shook his head, “Whoever allowed you two to get those monstrosities should be hanged.” Jotaro, Jolyne, and Polnareff were already at the table; Jotaro was reading through a thick stack of papers, but threw up a hand in acknowledgement that he was aware of their presence. “Bonsoir,” Polnareff greeted them, “Mo is running late, but he’ll be here soon,” his face turned into a grimace, “And my precious little sister will not be joining us today, as she has a date with some man she has yet to introduce me to.” Noriaki took his place beside Jotaro, “Is it the same one she’s been seeing all this time?” “Yes!” Polnareff groused, hands up in the air. “They aren’t even dating! She says it’s 'casual’ and 'non-exclusive’,” he used air quotes while talking. Josuke and Okuyasu sat down. “Not to change the subject or anything,” Josuke started, “But the fact that all of you have met Okuyasu before really took the wind out of my sails.” “He hasn’t met Av yet.” Jotaro pointed out, eyes not leaving his paper. “That is true,” Okuyasu said helpfully, “I ain’t met him yet.” He rubbed Josuke’s shoulder, “It’s all gravy.” Their orders were taken and well on their way on coming out before Avdol showed up. “Apologies,” he said, while kissing the top of Jolyne’s head, then Polnareff’s cheek, “Had a student with a crisis, but it’s all resolved now.” He turned his attention to Okuyasu, “And this must be the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about,” Avdol stuck a hand out, eyes twinkling, “Mohammed Avdol, pleased to make your acquaintance. Everyone calls me Mo or Avdol, so feel free to address me as either.” “Uh, likewise,” Okuyasu shook his hand nervously, “Polnareff talks about you alot.” Josuke snorted. That was the understatement of the century. Avdol elbowed Polnareff as he settled down beside him, “Hopefully you’ve heard nothing, but good things.” Polnareff was affronted, “Excusez-moi? I’ve done nothing, but sing your praises to everyone. Perhaps I should start revealing the truth.” “And what truths do you have to reveal, Jean?” “That you are mean to me, you insult me, you don’t appreciate anything I–” Jotaro rolled up his substantial pile of papers and started smacking Polnareff in the head, much to Jolyne’s amusement, “Shut up, no one cares.” The Frenchman would not be silenced, “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!” “We aren’t related, jackass.” Thankfully, the pizzas and Oku’s wings picked the right time to come out.  Josuke made a face at the Pineapple Larry’s Pineapple Larry Special, which was a Hawaiian pizza. Which Josuke hated with an almost irrational passion, so he scarfed down his little margherita pizza (Oku tried the pineapple. Final verdict: pretty damn good). “Hey Oku, when’s ya birthday?” Jolyne asked between shoveling huge bites of pizza in her mouth. Okuyasu was on what was probably his 27th wing, “October 10th.” Josuke spat his drink all over Polnareff, who immediately started shrieking and ran off to the bathroom, “That’s literally two weeks away! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “It never came up.” “We gotta throw ya a party,” Josuke whipped his phone out. “Nah nah, don’t worry about it,” Okuyasu put his hands up, “S'fine, dude.” Josuke rubbed his arm with one hand while texting with his other, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get you and a bunch of other people shitfaced.” Okuyasu was about to protest, but Noriaki waved him down, “Might as well accept it, Okuyasu.” He stood up and stretched, “You guys ready to head to the arcade?” Jolyne hopped up and posed, “I’m ready!” Avdol followed suit, “I’ll go coax Jean out of the bathroom.” As Avdol walked away, Okuyasu leaned over to whisper in Josuke’s ear, “Hey, let’s go back to my place after we get done here.” “Sounds good, sunshine."  "Come on guys, I gotta beat you in Street Fighter!!” She started tugging on their shirt sleeves, “Losers have to buy ice cream!!��� “You’re on, kid.” Josuke challanged.

“How the fuck did she get so good at Street Fighter?” Oku asked as he finished their shared joint, blowing the smoke into Josuke’s mouth. Josuke held it, then blew it out before answering, “Noriaki is a big nerd. He’s rubbed off on her.” “She’s five.” Josuke shrugged, “I beat Super Mario World when I was five.” They were sitting on a bench underneath a large open window facing out towards the back of Okuyasu’s apartment complex. The arcade trip had been a lot of fun, if you didn’t mind getting schooled at Street Fighter II by a 5 year old playing Blanka. This was the first time Josuke had been to Oku’s apartment in the entire time they’d know each other. It was nice, but didn’t feel like anyone lived in it. 'I hate being alone, so I go sleep in one of Keicho’s spare rooms, Yuuya’s couch, or with you. This place don’t really feel like home, ya know,’ had been Okuyasu’s explanation. The major upside to this place was that the Official Head Roadie and Weedman of Arrowhead, Hazamada, lived directly below Okuyasu. The two of them collaborated on a sick beat while pounding on the door to Hazamada’s apartment, inadvertently pummeling him in the face when he poked his head out to see who was knocking. Josuke almost pissed his pants from laughter; they got a shitty little joint, two middle fingers, and door slammed in their faces for their trouble.

When they lit up, Josuke straddled Oku’s lap and taught him how to shotgun smoke. It took a couple of tries, but eventually he got the hang of it. What followed was intense grinding and sloppy kisses. Josuke was very away of the problem poking at him, but was content with letting Oku twist in the wind for a bit. Then they fell into comfortable conversation, interrupted by the occasional tongue action. “Speaking of games,” Okuyasu stood up and stretched, his shoulders popping in a way that sounded painful, “let’s play something.” “What you got in mind?” “Hmm…” Okuyasu tapped his chin, “How about Metroid Prime 2? I never finished it.” He walked over to his entertainment stand, “I’ll get the Wii hooked up, could you go get my strategy guide for it?” “Why not just look up a FAQ for it?” Okuyasu kept his back turned to Josuke as he sat down to fiddle with the cords, “That guide’s got pictures. Sometimes reading a lot makes my head hurt, so they help.” Josuke nodded, but spoke when he remembered Okuyasu couldn’t see him, “That’s fair. Where is it?” “There’s a big box with "Books stuff” written on the side, filled with old magazines and shit in my spare room. It’s probably in there.“ Okuyasu’s spare room was were odds and ends went to die. The room was full of boxes and clutter that needed sifted through. At first, Josuke thought locating the box Okuyasu had indicated would be an impossible task, but miraculously, he was able to find it lickity-split. The box in question was filled with well-worn magazines and tattered strategy guides. It took a minute, but Josuke was able to find what he was looking for quickly. However, curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn’t help but sit on the floor, and peruse a few of the magazines. Guitar World, Kerrang!, Alternative Press, Rolling Stones; Okuyasu had quite the catalogue. There was a Rolling Stone in particular that, for whatever reason, drew him in. He picked it up and made to flip through it, but noticed that there were some pages stuck together. With care, Josuke peeled the pages apart to find his very first Calvin Klein underwear ad. The ad spanned two pages: one page featured him in nothing but briefs, biting his lip while staring into the camera, arms behind his head. The opposite page was more or less the same, except he had one hand on his chest, the other on a lollipop stick; his tongue peaked out of his open mouth, curled around the lollipop. The pages were covered in some residue. What the fuck did Oku spill on— he thought to himself, until a voice in his head interrupted. It’s semen. He masturbated to your undie ad. This was his spank bank. Josuke became very aware of how sweaty and red-faced he had become. Gently, he rose from the floor, guide and magazine in hand, and returned to the living room. "About time,” Okuyasu said, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he struggled to kill an Ing Warrior, “Was gonna go send a search and rescue party to find ya.” Josuke said nothing in response. Instead, he held up the spunk-covered pages, “I see you were a fan of my ad work.” Okuyasu’s face went on a journey from confusion to terrified. “Uhm…” he fidgeted nervously, already starting to sweat, “I can explain…” If he was about to explain it away, Josuke didn’t even give him a chance. He all but leapt onto Oku, shoving his tongue down his throat. A sloppy, heated makeout session ensued, with both of them groping at each other like a pack of horny teenagers. “You know,” Josuke panted, pulling away long enough to catch his breath, “We never cashed in that raincheck.” Before Okuyasu could respond, Josuke slid out of his lap, down in-between his knees. “I wanna make good on it,” Josuke rubbed the pronounced bulge in Okuyasu’s pants, “Can I suck you off, babe?” It seemed that Oku had been rendered completely speechless by that question. After a few seconds of processing what Josuke said, he could only manage to nod dumbly at his boyfriend. Josuke flashed him a wicked grin before pulling Oku’s basketball shorts and boxer briefs down in one go. A slight moan fell out of his mouth when he saw what awaited him. Okuyasu had a huge dick, and Josuke was delighted. It was long, thick, and throbbing; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “Oh fuck, baby,” Josuke bit his lower lip. “Wh-what?” Oku found his voice again. Josuke glanced up at him, and found that his face was puce and covered in sweat. “You look tasty.” With that, Josuke swiped his tongue all the way down Oku’s shaft, pleased at the whimper it elicited from him. He wrapped his hand around Okuyasu’s cock, pumping it roughly, “Is this what you thought about when you jerked it to me? What my mouth would feel like? How I’d sound when I’d beg for your cock?”

“God, yes,” Okuyasu gasped, covering his ruddy face with his hands.

“No baby, look at me when I fuck you with my mouth.”

Okuyasu didn’t remove his hands, but he peaked at Josuke through his spread fingers, eyes wide. Good enough, Josuke thought to himself as he took Oku’s dick into his mouth. Unfortunately, Josuke wasn’t blessed enough to not have a gag reflex, but he made up for it by harshly jerking the inches of Okuyasu he couldn’t fit into his mouth.

Not that his boyfriend seemed to mind. He was too busy moaning and cursing as Josuke prayed at the altar that was his dong.

Either his succ game was too strong, Okuyasu hadn’t known the touch of another person upon his penis in a long time, or the fact it was just Josuke Higashi-goddamn-kata giving Oku’s dick the business, Okuyasu panted out, “I’m close,” after a few minutes.

Josuke pulled back off his dick, still working the shaft, “Where do you want to cum, beautiful?”

“Your mouth,” Okuyasu grunted, voice rough.

Josuke pressed his tongue against the head of Oku’s cock, “Be a good boy and fill my mouth up. Coat my tongue.”

The dirty talk sent Okuyasu over the edge; he let out a single “Fuck!” as he spent himself in Josuke’s mouth.

Hot cum glazed Josuke’s tongue. He waited patiently until Oku was done spurting before showing him the load, and then making a big show of swallowing it. Unable to help himself, Josuke licked the head of his cock clean, revealing in the shudders that he felt pass through Okuyasu and the winded expression on his face.

Josuke stood up, feeling triumphant, “I’m gonna get a soda. You want some water?” He didn’t bother to wait for a response, as he walked into the kitchen.

As he pulled out a can of soda, he was acutely aware of his own boner. It was a problem that needed to be taken care of, but he just sucked the soul out of Okuyasu through his dick, so Josuke felt that it might be poor form to demand a blowjob. Perhaps later—

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Okuyasu press up against him from behind, palming Josuke’s dick through his sweats, teeth on his neck. Unconsciously, Josuke hissed, arching his back into his boyfriend. “I’m not the kinda guy to leave someone hanging,” Okuyasu spoke into his ear, voice like sandpaper, “I’m gonna suck you off, angel. Turn around.”

Josuke didn’t need to be told twice. He spun around, pulling his dick out; Oku backed him up against the counter, before kneeling in front of him. As if hypnotized, Okuyasu gently wrapped his callused fingers around Josuke’s cock, slightly stroking. Josuke’s breath hitched at every stroke. After a couple of minutes he groaned, “You’re killing me, dude.”

“S-sorry,” Okuyasu whispered sheepishly, “Jus’ appreciating the view.” As if he was ravenous, he dove down onto Josuke’s cock, taking it all the way to the back of his throat in one go. “Jesus H. Christ, do you not have a gag reflex,” Josuke stuttered out, completely taken aback. He didn’t get a response, only a devilish look from his boyfriend.

Curling his fingers into Okuyasu’s unmade hair, Josuke just tried to enjoy the ride. He was unable to keep his hips still; the longer he felt Oku’s hot tongue or throat clamp around his cock, Josuke thrusted more and more into his mouth.

Okuyasu pulled his dick out of his mouth for a moment, “You can facefuck me if you want.”

“You sure?”

Yet again, he received a response in the form of a look and the feeling of Oku’s throat against the head of his dick.

Not one to deny such a polite request, Josuke snapped his hips, fucking Oku’s mouth. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head; he wondered if this is how he’d fuck Okuyasu’s ass eventually. The thought of it made Josuke’s inside clench, and he couldn’t stop himself from groaning out Okuyasu’s name over and over again while he shot jets of cum down his throat. If he wasn’t so spent, he would feel embarrassed how quickly he came, but goddamn did that feel good.

Okuyasu waited like a good boy until Josuke pulled out of his mouth before he swallowed and stood up. Both of them eyed each other with worn out expressions. Josuke was the first to break the silence, leaning over and softly kissing Okuyasu, who returned it, “Metroid?”

“Metroid.”

“You know, if I went back in time and told myself a year ago that Josuke Higashikata would suck my soul out through my dick, I’d whoop my own ass for being a liar.”

Josuke snorted, eyes trained on his phone’s screen as he organized Okuyasu’s birthday party, “I ain’t a succubus, Oku.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, demon.” Oku was brows were furrowed, trying to not die while fighting Quadraxis.

“So, you jerked it to that ad of me, like, pretty frequently?”

Okuyasu sighed, cheeks going pink, “Yeah. I bought that issue when I saw those pictures in there. It gave me a lot of inspiration.”

“Man, that really feeds my ego.”

“Don’t be getting a big head, Higashikata. It’s already massive.”

“Fuck you, there’s nothing wrong with my head!!”

Okuyasu cackled, which quickly turned into a groan of frustration as he was squished to death by Quadraxis, “Fuck this robotic piece of shit. I’m gonna go to his house and burn it down.”

“He lives in the game, you can’t do that.”

“I know, I know,” he rubbed his face, “Still wanna though.” He looked over at Josuke, “You know, you don’t gotta throw me a party.”

“I want to,” Josuke replied, “It’ll be a good time. I’m inviting cool people.” At the apprehensive look on Oku’s face, he continued, “All of them know about us, so no worries there. You’ve already met most of them, and my family will be there.”

“Okay, then that’s fine. I think. Jus’ make sure to invite Keicho and all them too.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Josuke said soothingly, “This will be a lot of fun, I promise. Nothing bad will happen.”

He hoped that his promise would ring true.