#but i like to think he REALLY puts on his messenger voice for this one

[cherubchoirs]

I had a funny thought, what if during the inevitable Gabriel vs Micheal fight, Micheal is winning, Gabe's on the ropes, helmet smashed open but during Mike's hate monologue the coin V1 flicked into the Gabe void flings out, terminal velocity, nailing Micheal and giving Gabe time to turn the tables and get his first real coin combo.

even better if this is like, decades later after v1 flicked it in there, where has it been? who knows! Anyway, how would the sibling scuffle work out anyway because the only way I can see Micheal actually listening to what Gabe has to say is after a beatdown so great that he cant run away from the truth.

UUGUHTHHUHGH THE COIN KNEW WHEN IT WAS NEEDED. and i love this bc i also definitely see gabriel adapting some of v1's strategies in his technique, the mannerisms just evolving naturally like others might copy speech or habits from their partner. he will utilize the hell out of that thing and be doubly grateful that he. now knows where it is lol but otherwise you're absolutely right in the sense that this is the only way michael could be reasoned with - he would need to be left so exhausted the meager threads of his light won't allow him to teleport in retreat. gabriel knows it's not the easiest solution since michael is just about as accustomed to loss as he once was, but he can't imagine any other way to get him to actually listen. unfortunately, he needs to be brought low before gabriel can make an earnest appeal - and he figures he has one chance to do it.

in all honesty, gabriel isn't hopeful about michael's reception to anything he has to say - michael became deeply ingrained in his ways a long time ago and his life has only served to solidify an unwavering adherence to god's will. gabriel knows, better than any of them, that he is fighting against the trauma seeded by lucifer's fall and now grown into the fruit of what michael's desperation has wrought in his decaying body. that's not. conducive to gabriel's position, because it has fostered a mental schema fortified against all collapse as that would destroy michael from the inside out. it MUST maintain, or everything he's done since the war in heaven to now tearing apart his own soul is rendered pointless in his eyes. but that's way gabriel deliberates on exactly how to approach it, and he digs deep into the messenger he once was. this was his job, to not just speak of joy but of so much evil too, and now it's imperative he frames the latter in a way michael can hear and let in. it's all been leading to this, he thinks.

so gabriel approaches him as the servant of god that he is, so staunch in his devotion that even other angels in heaven cannot understand him. he gave everything, his body and his soul, into service to the lord, and he loved so deeply that it devoured him whole. gabriel calls on him to stop his hatred then, to finally bleed the infected wound that's never gotten the chance to breathe because he so feared it would corrupt his mind. he has done enough, he has done so much more than anyone would ever even try - it's not his fault that god is gone, and it is not his fault he won't come back. michael did what no one else was willing to do, so the work is done. god poured so much of his wrath onto michael that in his return he forgot he could do so much more, and gabriel firmly reminds him of heaven's current status. he is not just some jailer, his entire existence isn't meant to be so wrapped up in the punishment of sinners and the demons of hell. michael sees souls upon their death and offers them a chance at repentance, michael is the prince of the angels and he leads their brothers in his fairness and wisdom. there is a heaven where he's needed, two remaining archangels that still look to him for guidance, and there can be peace if he chooses it. peace within himself. he is needed and he is loved, but gabriel demands that he must rid himself of all the hatred he harbors for his own sin and how it manifests into his treatment now of those in hell. because michael would HATE to hear it, but gabriel knows this is the most important point he has - his crusade now is not fought for god, but to preserve his legacy, to prove to himself and all others that he is still michael. it's a risk to shove it in his face so plainly, but gabriel knows he responds much better to tough love than walking on eggshells. and if one thing could FINALLY break him out of his rampage against hell, it would be gabriel, inhabiting the role of god's messenger, telling him in no uncertain terms that his motivation now are purely selfish. he has put god's name on a personal vitriol, and that would at least make him think.

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy universe

(Title subject to change)

Sometimes Danny really hated Clockwork. You’ll know him when you see him. “Cryptic and unhelpful as usual”, Danny groused. “You’d think the Master of Time could be a little more descriptive considering it’s his damned errands I’m running here, but noooo! I’m starting to think this whole apprenticeship is just an excuse to foist his busywork off on me.”

Here Danny was, aimlessly flying above the rooftops of Gotham, trying to figure out who he was supposed to be delivering his message to. He had a name, but no description and no location. I’ll know him when I see him my ass. Whoever this Damian Al-Ghul was supposed to be had better stick out like a sore thumb or Danny was never gonna find him. Speaking of…

Danny paused in mid-air. There was someone crouching on a nearby rooftop, peering over the edge. He was young, wearing a red and yellow outfit with a dark hooded cape. He wore a sheathed sword on his back that looked way too real to be part of some casual cosplay. Welp, if this ain’t him then Clockwork picked the wrong errand boy. Now, how best to approach this?

Danny considered his options. The cloak and apprentice staff Clockwork had loaned him gave him a suitably spooky appearance on top of his usual ghostliness but he wasn’t gonna go around scaring kids, armed or not. The friendly approach it is then.

“Hey there!”

Wow, the kid had some good reflexes. At the sound of Danny’s voice he jumped as if electrocuted, spinning around and drawing his sword in one smooth movement. He held the sword in front of himself in a defensive position and his stance showed that he knew how to use it. “Who the hell are you?” he barked.

“Easy there” Danny raised his hands in a placating gesture “I’m just here to deliver a message. I’m looking for someone named Damian Al-Ghul. You wouldn’t happen to be him, right?”

A deepening scowl was his only answer. “I repeat, who the hell are you?”

Danny sighed “Look kid, I’m just trying to do my job here. I have a prophecy to deliver, so if you’re not this Damian fella…” he trailed off invitingly.

“A… prophecy?” the kid hesitated before lowering his sword slightly, scowl still firmly in place.

“Yep” Danny popped the end of the word for emphasis “Phantom, apprentice to the Ghost of Time and part-time delivery spectre, at your service” he threw the kid a mock salute. “My Boss told me to come to Gotham to give a prophecy to you’ll know him when you see him” he dropped his voice to a lower register and made airquotes around the words, “and you’re the only memorable person I’ve seen tonight, so…” Danny spread his arms in exasperation.

The kid hesitated visibly before letting his sword hand drop to his side. “I am the one you’re looking for.”

“Great! Hang on.” Danny pulled a messenger bag out from under his cloak and started rummaging around in it, causing the kid (Damian?) to twitch “Now where did I put..? Aha!” Danny pulled out a faintly glowing envelope in triumph. It had a large purple wax seal on it and Damian Al-Ghul written in elegant cursive across the back. Danny floated closer and held out the envelope to the kid.

“The prophecy… is a letter?” Damian drawled, eyebrows rising in disbelief. Danny shrugged.

“What, did you expect a dancing, singing telegram? I only do those for the really good tippers” he shook the envelope slightly “So, are you gonna take this or what?”

Damian finally reached out and took the letter, turning it over to scrutinise both sides. Danny tucked his bag back under his cloak and rose into the air.

“Right, I’ve got other errands to get done, so… see ya!” he turned to leave.

“Wait”

Danny turned back to face the kid and to his surprise, saw that Damian was holding out some folded bills towards him.

“You know the tipping thing was a joke, right?”

“Tt. I am told it is rude not to tip delivery people” Damian sniffed “I am simply acting within expected social norms”

“Wow, um… okay” Danny took the folded bills from Damian. It looked like it would last him for a couple of good meals and he wasn’t exactly swimming in money, okay? Ghost apprentice wasn’t exactly a paid internship. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome” came the haughty reply.

Danny shrugged and tucked the money into his bag. He rose back into the air with Damian’s eyes tracking his movement. With a wave of his staff, he opened a portal back to Clockwork’s realm and passed through it leaving Gotham behind.

****

Robin’s hand rose to the communicator in his ear.

“Oracle, did you get all that?”

Now has a Part 2!

[midnight-pluto]

COMPARISON — scar

You know Scar, and you know why he’s so obsessed with this ‘Rover’ character — he’s told you why, but why does it still hurt watching him act as if he was a lovesick puppy to them?

contains: established relationship, the relationship is lowk toxic, jealousy, insecurity, rovers gender is left ambiguous, canon-ish, swearing, angst, short fic

a/n: scar is so pretty omg; also the lack of scar x reader content is CRIMINAL

‘IT’S JUST FOR the mission, it’s just for the mission,’ is what you kept on repeatedly telling yourself in your mind, but it really doesn’t look like it from your side.

You can tell that this ‘Rover’ is prone to noticing the little things and figuring out everything with just one piece of the puzzle, so you decide that it’s best to keep your distance from the matter at hand occurring in the village.

The conversation they were both having was being played clearly in your ear — a hidden microphone on Scar’s waist, his idea, not yours. He offered up this idea as a way to assure you nothing special was happening, but you wish you would’ve never accepted it in the first place.

Hearing the words Scar say would’ve been sweet, if only they were directed towards you. You weren’t dumb, you could hear the flirtatious undertone in his voice as he spoke to them.

Swallowing thickly, you take a look at the picture given to you previously as to what Rover’s appearance was like; suddenly Scar’s words made more sense in your head.

Their dark hair was disheveled but still managed to look effortlessly good on them; did Scar ever think of you that way whenever he saw you get out of bed? Their clothes complimenting their natural appearance beautifully; did the red and white of your clothes really suit you?

It took you years to achieve what you have with Scar now, but Rover was able to see and receive genuine interest from Scar in just a matter of moments.

Just listening in on their conversation felt like you were the one interrupting something, like you were third-wheeling your own boyfriend, as if you were a side piece in your own relationship.

Embarrassing.

“Huh?” you audibly let out, tapping your earpiece with your gloved finger multiple times. Only the sound of static could be heard. “Shit.”

Scrambling for your binoculars in your messenger bag, you shuffle them out and life them to your eyes to see what has occurred in the village below. Narrowing your eyes, you see that Rover had skillfully disabled the microphone on Scar’s waist with their blade.

“Of course,” you scoff out, dropping your binoculars back in your bag and proceeding to walk away from the scene.

Your terminal beeps and lights up and you pause, seeing that Phrolova had called you. “Leaving so soon?”

Huffing out a sigh at her words, “I see no point in staying.”

Humming in thought for a moment, she merely says, “Alright, go on then.”

The soil beneath your feet crunches underneath you with droplets wetting them at the same time; the sky is clear today.

SCAR’S EYES WIDENED at the sound of the mic clattering onto the ground, falling from his waist. “Well, aren’t you good? I thought you wouldn’t notice it so soon.”

“And I thought you said you didn’t want anybody else intruding on our conversation, seems kind of hypocritical to have a microphone attached at your hip,” they taunt.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, burying down the feeling in his stomach. “But they too, were special to me, I just wanted to share a conversation with two very special people, and what’s the matter with that?”

“So they’re special to you?” they raised a brow, suddenly interested in the newfound topic raised.

Scar laughed at their attempt to get him to reveal information about himself, but he would never put you in jeopardy like that — never in a thousand years. “Did I say that?

“Well, it’s not like you’ll ever get to find out any time soon,” he stomps on the already broken microphone, smashing it to pieces.

Rover simply rolled their eyes, “Just give me back Yanyang so we can be done with already, I’m bored of your story.”

“And here I thought that we already established,” Scar took a few strides forward, “That you aren’t in the position to bargain.”

Unbeknownst to Scar, you had left your earpiece in, the sound of static becoming wonderful white noise to you. The unfortunate part was that you could only hear a few bits and pieces of their conversation out of context.

“…were special—“ were? What does he mean by that? Why is he using past tense? Is he saying that to fuck with them or because he thinks you can’t hear him anymore? Or are you just reading to far into it?

“..two very special people—“ it should only be one, shouldn’t there? Is he saying that Rover’s already as important — if not more important than you?

Harshly taking out your earpiece, you throw it into the dirt. Unable to let out a frustrated scream you let your anger out through crushing the earpiece under your foot.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you glare back down at the shattered earpiece beside you. Rubbing the corners of your eyes, you begin to walk away, “The white noise wasn’t even that good anyways.”

a/n: not my best work — obviously — since i wrote this in an hour, on my phone, with fake nails. but i was feeling like shit so i dumped it all here, sorry kinda sorry

[spencerlicious]

Hi! I noticed your requests open and I had an idea rattling around my brain where Spencer is trying to break things off to protect reader from the dangers of his job but she won't let him and it's angsty but with a happy ending oh pretty please?!?

thank you for your request!! sorry it took literally forever lol

protect you

spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n (one time, i'm so sorry it was necessary), a little bit of angst, that's it! lmk if there's anything i should add!!

w.c.: 0.8k

—

He was acting distant, and you could tell.

You were used to Spencer coming home from a case exhausted, but he would always kiss you softly, telling you how much he missed you and occasionally even sharing a few details from the case.

When he arrived to your apartment this time, however, it was different. You heard your door being unlocked, and you dropped the pan you'd been washing into the soapy water. "Hi, Spence," you say happily, going to greet him.

He kicks his shoes off gently, the slightly beat up converse landing next to your own shoes. Finally looking at you, Spencer forces a smile. "Hi," he says quietly, pulling his messenger bag off and hanging it above his shoes.

Your expression falters slightly- he's usually more enthusiastic about seeing you. "How was the case?" you ask, hoping to gain some insight as to why he's acting this way.

He takes a deep breath before responding. "Really rough." Spencer bypasses you and sits on the couch, picking a book up off of your coffee table and thumbing through it. You watch as he walks past you without touching you, your eyes narrowed in confusion.

In an attempt to make him feel better, you head back into the kitchen to make him a cup of tea. The water begins to heat as you put pieces together in your head. He'd barely called or texted on this case, didn't let you know when the jet had landed, and now he was very closed off. You drop the tea bag into the mug and walk over to the couch where Spencer is reading.

"I made you some tea," you say, offering the mug to him as you sit next to him on the plush sofa.

"Oh, thank you," he looks up from the book and takes the mug, barely even looking at you.

You sigh. "Spencer."

He looks at you finally, eyebrows raised. "Y/N?" he answers.

"What is going on with you? Even on really bad cases, you're still excited to see me..." your voice wobbles.

He frowns slightly, taking a sip of the hot tea. "I am happy to see you," he begins, "but I don't think we can stay together."

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. "What?" you stutter, your eyes becoming glossy. The atmosphere of your apartment - usually very warm and cozy - is suddenly cold and closing in.

Spencer looks at you awkwardly. "It's not that I don't like you, I really, really like you, but my job is so dangerous, and this case reminded me of how much danger I put you in by being in a relationship with you," he says, his eyebrows knit together as his lips turn into a frown.

Tears draw jagged paths on your cheeks, and it breaks Spencer's heart to see. "I don't understand," you finally say. "Your job has nothing to do with me."

He takes a deep breath and sets the mug down on the coffee table, before reaching for your hand. His fingers intertwine with yours. "On this case, the unsub was targeting the family members of people he'd perceived as doing him harm. Wives, children, pet...it was awful." He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don't want you to ever be put in a position like that just because of my job. I look around the team and see how much some of my friends have lost, and I couldn't bear to lose you like that."

You bring your hands to your face, wiping away the tears that are falling. "So you want to break up?" Your voice is shaky as you try to come to terms with what Spencer is saying.

His head shakes. "No, no, I don't want to break up with you," he struggles, "but I'm scared for what could happen."

You push the tears away again, continuing the motion to also push your hair back. "I'm not scared," you say. "How could I be when I have my scary FBI agent boyfriend to protect me?"

You and Spencer both laugh, and it breaks the tension slightly.

"I can't always be there to protect you," he says.

"I can hold my own, you know?" you say, half laughing. "I really don't want to break up, Spence."

He nods. "I don't either."

You move across the couch and he pulls you into his lap. "Two out of two votes, I concur that we're not breaking up," you say, kissing his cheek.

Spencer grins at you softly, admiring your humor. His fingers come up to your cheeks to wipe away the paths that your tears carved. "I'm sorry I freaked out," he says.

You rest your forehead against Spencer's. "It's okay baby, I understand. I'm glad we talked about it. Maybe from now on we try to communicate more while you're away on cases that way you know I'm okay?" you say, cocking your head to the side with a small smile.

"I'd like that," Spencer says before kissing your lips gently.

--

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! not really sure how i feel about this one, i'm trying to get back into writing more consistently and i'm sure my fics will get better over time, haha.

i totally think spence would be suuuuper protective over reader, so this is totally a plausible scenario. than you again for your request <3

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens. 

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?” 

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

[yesimwriting]

Noble Only in Blood

A/n house of the dragon rewatch era <3

Summary: There are very few things you wouldn't do in order to save your brother.

Warnings: me writing for a character for the first time, targaryen incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter), reader is described as not looking like her brothers and having valyrian features, forced marriage, slight miscommunication trope (i know,, bare with me😭)

----

In times of crisis, it is instinctual to hold onto what is dear. If one has reason to believe that a thief has crossed their path, it is logical for them to reach into their purses and pockets, to make sure that what they care for most is still safe. That same impulse is what guides your hand forward, your fingers curling around Lucerys's shoulder.

After a breath, you realize that Luke has allowed himself to shuffle back, a subtle acceptance of your attempt to comfort him. That startles you more than the sudden appearance of a familiar face. Luke's distaste for what he considers 'sisterly coddling' has grown steadily over these last few years, the threat of war only amplifying his desire to shed the last few layers of protection you're able to offer him.

"It's alright." The response borders on hollow, your voice ringing flat in your own ears. You press your lips together. So Aemond beat your family to Lord Borros. That's...That means very little in the grand scheme of things. You and your brother came here to present an offer, not to begin a war. "You are here as a messenger, not a warrior."

He nods once, eyes still trained on your uncle. Even though Luke's in front of you, his stiffness is reminiscent of a time in which a conflict with Aemond meant running to you, meant attempting to hide behind you until you could either tell him off or call for your mother.

Aemond takes a measured step forward. "Really? Is that what you're calling your attempts to steal my brother's throne?"

There's a muted sharpness in Aemond's voice that feels distinct to anything you've seen from him before. This is not a burst of fury fueled by petulant indignation, this is a flash of a rage sustained by an all engulfing flame.

Your fingers press into Luke's shoulder. The sooner he's returned to the sky, the better. "I was only offering an explanation."

"The ever honest princess." Another step. "I have had enough of your brand of honesty."

Your lips briefly part before pressing together again. There is no worthy response, not with the way Aemond's watching you, expression too unforgiving to be about today. Something small and familiar attempts to dislodge itself from your throat, an echo of the apology that failed to salvage any friendship between the two of you years ago.

There's a beat of nothingness that serves as a form of recognition. Aemond straightens. "While I am accustomed to your self righteousness and defense of Lord Strong, even you cannot think you'll get to walk away after what you both attempted."

At that, Luke straightens, shoulders lifting in a way that encourages you to release him. "Leave my sister out of this." He steps forward, planting himself firmly between you and Aemond.

"Luke."

He doesn't look back at you, but your tone does seem to remind him of the importance of deescalation. "I am not going to fight you."

"No. That would be no challenge." Your fingers curl into your palm with such tension you can already feel your nails imprinting your skin. Aemond raises an arm, hand moving to pull off the patch that covers his lost eye. "I want you to pluck out your eye as payment for mine."

Luke shuffles back, head snapping in your direction. His eyes only find yours for a brief moment before he's straightening to face Aemond again, but it's enough for you to see the dread tinging his put together demeanor. His lips parted, his brows furrowed. That same little boy that always trusted you to know how to stop a game from going too far.

You squeeze Luke's arm, a silent promise, a guarantee that you'll--that you'll what? That you'll return him to Arrax unscathed? That you'll find a way to save him? This isn't the same as the faults that were dismissed as an unfortunate yet dismissible consequence of childhood roughhousing.

Blood has been divided, the rightful succession questioned. The children of rightful heirs have faced worse than what Aemond is attempting. Political divide changes things. Standing on the brink of war, you have no defense. There is no predetermined safe territory for you to rush Luke to, and yet...

"You are not taking my brother's eye." The authority bleeding into your voice provides a lifeline. You have nothing to stand on, not here, and yet the firmness of your statement manages to pulse through you.

Aemond presses his lips together, a sharp smile that's too cruel to be reduced to something as simple as sarcastic briefly taking over his expression. "Sister. Brother." He lets out a breath, radiating an assurance that turns your stomach. Aemond turns his head, his full attention falling onto you. "Surely you've seen your own reflection."

The jab should fall flat. As the only one of your mother's children to be born with features that reflect a more traditionally valyrian appearance, snide comments implying that your brothers aren't truly your brothers are far from new. Even if they're right, it wouldn't matter. Your brothers came from your mother, same as you, and even that isn't the only reason you care for them. They're your family. However, Aemond's smugness makes the comment hard to bear. He's indulging in the power he has over the two of you.

"Call him what you'd like," you say, "You're not going to touch him."

Aemond tilts his chin downwards to make it easier to watch Luke. "Do you always need your sister to defend you?"

Luke lifts his chin slightly, shifting his body forward. "There is nothing to defend. We're leaving."

The excuse to end this interaction offers you a wary sense of relief. You're not convinced that Aemond will be willing to let the two of you pass so easily, but Luke's presented an excuse to allow everyone to walk away before tensions can rise further.

Luke steps away from you, making a point to walks towards the left. Once he's a few paces away from you, you start to walk away as well. You keep your eyes trained on the back of Luke's head, as if that will keep the window from closing.

"I am owed a debt."

You turn on your heels. Luke's farther away from Aemond now, a fact you're grateful for, but now you're practically directly in front of him. The proximity throws you more than it should. The last time you were next to Aemond, the two of you were still friends. He's--you're not sure you've ever noted how tall he's gotten.

You press your lips together, dismissing the feeling. If anything, his height is just another reminder that no part of the boy that used to read with you in the library remains in him. "It will not be paid with my brother's blood."

The silence between the three of you is heavy. A part of you thinks the safest course of action might be grabbing Luke and making a run for it. An escape attempt that hasty comes with its own risks. Aemond is more determined than you've ever seen him. And you can't even truly blame him for his anger, for his hatred.

Aemond has to bear the consequences of a moment's mistake for the rest of his life. Luke took his eye, and when you defended him, you stole his trust. But allowing him to hurt Luke is the kind of cruel justice that resolves nothing.

"Aemond, I'm sorry," the genuineness of the statement knots your stomach, "About what happened." You pause, not completely sure where you're going with this. "You didn't deserve it, but that doesn't change the fact that you're taking advantage of a situation. This isn't justice it is...abuse."

He's quiet, and for a long moment you start to think that you've tugged at the wrong thread and now everything's going to unravel.

Aemond steps forward. You force yourself to stay in place. Luke's a few steps away from Aemond, and if things change that might--that might mean something. "How virtuous." His focus weighs on you enough to force the air out of your lungs. "Then tell me, my princess, how do you suggest the debt be paid?" Aemond takes another step towards you. He's so close now that you have to tilt your chin upwards to hold his gaze. "I wonder how noble you'd be if you yourself were on the line."

The meaning of his words take their time to sink in. Something hard lodges itself in your throat. You swallow in an attempt to dislodge the feeling. "My-My eye?"

"No, little good would come from it." He studies your features with such an openness you have to resist the urge to shrink in on yourself. All you have is your ability to stand firm. "You're worth more unscared." Aemond lets out a breath. "Maybe a wedding is what this family needs."

"What?"

If Aemond thinks anything of your shock, he gives no indication of it. "Marrying Rhaenyra's daughter will only strengthen my family's claim to the throne." The accuracy of the statement turns your stomach.

Noble women are regularly married off as solutions for these kinds of conflicts. It's a way of unifying dividing lines. You do not desire war, nor do you think a hypothetical marriage between you and Aemond would truly fix anything. However, the thought of being used as a political pawn to aid your mother's usurper, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

Aemond also detests you. Marriage is more often than not about duty. Your mother has never kept that from you. The only thing she's ever assured you of is that when the time came for you to be wed, your match would be compatible. A happy marriage does not begin with love, it begins with respect and an understanding of your duty.

Anything Aemond's trying to force you into wouldn't be that. This is about vengeance, about hurting you and your family even if he has to bind himself to you to do so.

The two of you are trapped. You have no allies, no significant weapons unless you count the two dragons that stand no chance against Vhagar, and you are standing in front of someone demanding to hurt your brother. If this is the only way to guarantee your brother's safe passage back to your mother...

"If I--if I agree...you'll forgive my brother of any debt owed?" The question makes something in your chest ache. "You'll let him go?"

There's a beat in which Aemond's eyebrows seem to draw together, but he returns to neutrality so quickly you're not sure if you've imagined it or not. "You have my word."

"No," Luke's voice is right in your ear. It's his turn to grab your arm. "You can't have her."

"Luke..." His fingers wrap around your forearm, his hold on you growing more desperate. "Luke--listen to me."

He shakes his head. "No." Luke straightens his shoulders, something determined flashing behind his eyes. "No, I can't let you do this."

You turn, placing your free hand over his arm. "I will not risk your safety." He begins to protest again, but you stop him, "Go home and explain the situation to Mother." Luke places a hand over yours, a final attempt at convincing you to try anything else.

"Yes," Aemond echoes, "Go and tell your mother that the girl you consider a sister has to pay for your debts."

Luke turns his head. Despite no longer being able to see his expression, you can feel his anger. "Luke." His stillness is not enough to distract from the fight behind his eyes. "Do you trust me?" It takes him a moment to look away from Aemond, but once he does he nods. "Then I need you to go."

He doesn't exactly relax, but he does let out a breath. You pull your hands away from his before enveloping him in a hug. "It's going to be alright." It takes him a moment to think to place his arms against your back. Luke squeezes you in a way he hasn't in years, holding onto you like you're his entire world. "I will see you again."

You carefully shift back. Luke follows your lead, letting his arms fall to his side. "Yes," he says, eyes briefly shifting back to Aemond, "I will."

"Okay." The word feels fragile. "Go back, be safe."

Luke's eyes are glossy as he nods. If things were normal, he'd playfully scoff at your warnings. "I will see you again."

You nod, and Luke finally turns. He walks away, towards Arrax, towards safety. Whatever was keeping you steady seems to leave with him.

You're allowed a brief moment of silence, of grief, before Aemond speaks. "We'll ride back before the storm begins." In your panic, you had not noticed the clouds overtaking the sky. You think of Luke, riding back alone in the rain. Aemond sighs. "Your sacrifice has not been in vain, it will be some time before the skies make a turn for the worse."

Aemond's ability to read you digs at the back of your mind. It'd bother you more if his reassurance was less needed. You're not sure you can trust your voice, so you nod blankly.

He begins to walk forward. You cannot will yourself to move until Aemond's already ahead of you.

The sight of your dragon quells the loneliness hollowing your chest. Your family is far from you, but Starfyre is still by your side.

Not only are you glad for Starfyre's comfort, you're also thankful for the control of being able to ride on your own. A small part of you is also relieved for the excuse to avoid Vhagar.

You've loved dragons for as long as you can remember, and you've been wary of the larger ones for just as long. It's not exactly a fear, you've just always felt the need to admire them from afar. Even as a child, before Aemond had been able to claim Vhagar, you only wanted to observe her from a safe distance.

No one's comments have ever been able to make you wish that Starfyre was different. Her smaller frame makes you feel more in control when you fly, the two of you melding into one as you approach the skies. She's swift, too, her size allowing her soar through the sky like an arrow that never misses its target.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to keep up on that...runt of yours."

How dare he? He knows what Starfyre is capable of more than most. As a child, her speed fascinated him. A knee-jerk reaction is forced past your lips, "The last thing about this arrangement that should concern you is wether or not Starfyre can keep up."

Aemond pauses, turning to face you. Instead of attempting to insult Starfyre again, he asks, "And what should concern me?"

His words are tinged with a cruel sharpness, a silent warning to watch yourself, to not make threats you cannot follow through on. "You should be concerned that you are full of such spite, that you are willingly entering a union with someone that you have detested since--"

Aemond takes a step forward. You shift towards Starfyre, placing a hand against her side. "Since the day I lost my eye?" Another step. "Since the moment you lied to my father to protect Lucerys after what he did?"

The reality of what happened that day hits you in the chest with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. Your vision begins to blur. "He's my brother, Aemond."

"And I was your friend." The words come out hard and fast, his voice nearly breaking on the final syllable.

The honesty cracks something in your chest. Helaena, who you loved, often left you in favor of a world that you couldn't always follow her to. The other boys, who had once let you run around with them, outgrew you. But Aemond--Aemond was always yours.

Aemond scoffs. "You cannot pretend that what you did was enough to make me loathe you. I wrote to you." The letter, one detailing his new reality and desire to speak with you, has been a secret of yours for years. You've kept it tucked between the pages of your favorite book, only taking it out to reread in the middle of the night, with the rest of your family fast asleep. "And you never wrote back."

You blink in an attempt to clear your vision. "I did." The confession burns as it crawls up your throat. "But I couldn't bring myself to send you a raven."

"Because this--" Aemond moves forward in long strides. He's directly in front of you before you can think to move. He turns his head, making it impossible for you to not see his scar in its entirety. "I repulse you."

Is that what he thinks? You remain unflinching, allowing yourself to take in his scar and the appearance of his sapphire eye openly. "No." There has to be some way to put it into words. "I-I couldn't bring myself to speak to you. After the way we left things--After what I had done--I was repulsed by myself." You cut yourself off with a shaky breath. "Accepting your friendship after what I had done felt--cruel."

Aemond straightens. For a brief moment, there is only you, him, and the wound that lies between you. Then his expression's fiery edge morphs into something made of stone. "Ever the martyr."

The insult lacks any significant bite. You let your thumb brush against Starfyre's side, relishing in the comfort of her presence. "Better a martyr than someone so desperate for gratification, they are willing to hurt themselves in the process of earning it."

Ranting at him feels hollow, a motion you're going through for the sake of doing something. Aemond seems to sense some lack of fight in your phrasing, or maybe he's growing tired of this. "We should go," Aemond turns away from you, "The weather's changing."

Even though he's no longer watching you, you nod before returning your attention to Starfyre.

----

a/n this was really fun to write, but it was getting long so i decided to break it up, if you're interested in a part 2/would like to be tagged pls lmk :)

also!! if u have any hotd thoughts in general pls feel free to send me them <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Inspired by this

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I'm always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment 💕

Group assignments are your worst nightmare. You’ve never been a fan of doing all the work while your classmates sit around and waste time. It’s one of the many reasons you opted for an online program over in-class learning. At least, you’d thought it would solve that problem.

How wrong you are. The second assignment and your task is to write a book review with a partner. Wonderful.

Worse than being the work horse, you’re just as much a pushover. How many times did you let the others speak over you and end up researching a topic you didn’t even care about? And all so they can coast off your efforts.

You sigh and look at your phone. You're nervous. It’s after three, they’re late. Or maybe not coming at all.

You frown and put your cell face down. You offered an online meeting with your assigned partner. You even made suggestions; Zoom, Whatsapp, Teams… They said they preferred to meet face-to-face, you were too reluctant to counter that you don’t. Again, rolled right over.

What was their name again?

You snatch up your phone again and check the short conversation. Terse responses to your overly quizzical messages. Walter. Your mind builds a stringy character with square glasses and a World of Warcraft tee shirt.

You stare at your last message. You told him you were there in the library, down in the basement where it’s not as busy. You think you included enough description of where; just between reference and biographies.

You minimize the chat and tap the learner portal shortcut pinned to your homescreen. It redirects to a browser and you sign in. No new announcements or notification. You scroll through the homescreen aimlessly.

You hear the heavy door to the stairs open and close and you flinch. You look up and see a man in an unzipped jacket with a messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. He’s tall and broad and his curls are slightly mussed with his expedience. He peers around and you sink into your seat.

Not him. He’s too old. Definitely not the ‘Walter’ sort.

You bring the chat back up, ready to text; ‘you on your way?’ Not anything accusatory, just checking in. Before you can hit send, someone clears their throat. You look up as that man stands across the table from you.

He says your name and you lower your phone, frowning as you straighten in your seat. Really?

“Oh, hi, Walter?” You utter.

“Mm, yeah,” his voice is more of a growl as he pulls out a chair and drops into it.

He puts his bag on the table as you lock your phone and set it aside. You swallow and grip the edges of your closed laptop. You watch him shrug out of his jacket. He lets it drop back over the chair which seems too small for him.

He’s not what you expected. At all. Not the sort you thought to meet in a creative writing program.

He inhales and rubs his forehead, “shoulda grabbed a coffee,” he grumbles. “Sorry I’m late, got held up.”

“It’s okay,” you eke out, running your fingers up and down the sides of your laptop. His eyes fall to the movement and you stop, opening the lid instead, “well, I was looking through the shared Doc, going through the suggestions…”

He hums and nods, an elbow on the table as he leans in, listening to you intently. Your voice wobbles as you speak only to keep yourself distracted, “I like the list but I’m not sure if they fit the parameters of the assignment.”

“How so?” He challenges.

“Oh, well, I… I don’t know, I was just reviewing the guidelines– if you think they do, I’m open to discussion–”

“And your suggestions? Girls’ books. I don’t wanna read those.”

You wince and bring your eyes up to meet his. You can’t tell if he’s glaring or that’s just the way he looks. You notice the few strands of silver woven through one of his curls. How old is he?

“Right, I’m not ruling anything out,” you sniff, “I did like this one. In The Woods? It sounded interesting, my only concern is it’s the first in a series.”

“So?”

“So nothing,” you wilt again, “sorry, well, how about that one? We can see if they have any copies we can take out here–”

“I have one,” he grits out. You don’t understand why you met in-person. He hardly seems to like chatting and you’re not better at it.

“Sure, okay, well, I’ll take care of getting a copy for myself,” you say, “we should set a date to read it by… I guess you already have… but we can make notes in the Doc. I’ll add a new section here.”

He huffs, a stormy gale that makes you shiver. What luck. You always did get the best partners for these things. You wonder if it’s too late to reach out to the instructor. No, that’s too much. It’s only your first meeting, you’re still strangers.

“Are you really taking this course so you can write those love stories?” He asks.

Your eyes flick up and your blanch, “what?”

“I wouldn’t let my daughter read those books. They set a bad example for girls,” he snarls.

“Oh, I didn’t… I… I want to write fantasy but er…” you stammer, his judgment scalding. “Let me just finish here.”

You turn your attention back to the screen. You go up to the list of book titles and erase the ones you put in. Your cheeks are on fire.

“You don’t have to delete them.”

“No, we don’t need them. We made our choice,” you insist with a tremor.

“Hm, shoulda figured.” You stop and once more peer over your laptop screen, “don’t have to be so sensitive. Can’t be a good writer if you can’t take criticism.”

“I wasn’t…” you begin and shrug off the argument. “Thanks, you’re right.”

He squints and tilts his head, “you also need life experience. No one wants to read a story about nothing.”

You gulp and bat your lashes at him. Wow, he’s mean.

“You don’t know me,” you quaver.

“Can guess a lot from someone’s bookshelf,” he says. “It’s my job to read people.”

“You’re job…” you wrinkle your nose, “well, then why are you taking a writing course?”

He pushes his shoulders back and inhales, “some people have something to say.”

The inference of his statement stings. You won’t debate him. You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. Apparently, he doesn’t want to get to know you either. You’re not even sure why he came.

“Well, I think we have our next steps,” you push out your brittle voice.

“Sure do,” he checks his watch, “let me know if you need me to explain anything.”

He stands and grabs his coat and bag. You just sit there, watching him dumbly, “thanks, I will,” you murmur.

[storiesfromafan]

Antisocial Bookworm

A/N: I haven't written anything in like 3-4 years, but then I ended up down the Mattheo Riddle rabbit hole on TikTok. And here I am lol. Please be kind, as I haven’t written about him before, this is my first go at it.

Part 2 😊

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: you didn’t think of yourself of a main character, but rather a background character. Though the Slytherin heart throb thought otherwise.

                                  Antisocial Bookworm

The afternoon was on the sunny side, but there was a cool breeze that had students wearing jumpers and cardigans. You were no different. You were sitting under a tree in the courtyard, legs stretched out in front with ankles crossed, and engrossed in a book. The students around you made noise that you barely took note of, for the book in your hand being far too interesting then the real world. You didn’t really have any friends, nor did you socialize. Books were better company than people.

But hearing the voice of the one and only Mattheo Riddle, you took your gaze from the book before you and looked at Slytherin heart throb that was joking around with his friends. Watching the smile upon his face as he laughed at whatever one of them had said, seeing the brightness in his deep brown eyes. Not to mention how the breeze tousled his curly brown locks. Mattheo was so appealing to the eye that he could easily be the physical form of a character from a book.

You sighed. Like you had a chance with Mattheo. You weren’t in any way like a main girl from a book. You didn't think you were that bad looking, but you weren’t no great beauty. You would say you are average. You chose clothing that was comfortable over fashionable. Your hair was tied up out of your way, though bangs framed your eyes. You were more aimed as a background character then the main female of any book you read.

Turning your gaze from the no chance in hell of a male before you, you went back to your book and enjoyed the afternoon of peace. Book’s may take you on a rollercoaster of emotions; but they would never let you down, never hurt you. They were safe, they were comfort to an antisocial body like you.

If you believed you couldn't be the main girl from any of the books you read, Mattheo thought the opposite. To him you were the central character. You may not have noticed but the Slytherin male noticed you and how you were always reading. Studying you he knew when you had reached a rather fascinating part of a book, for you would draw the book closer to your face, eyes moving slightly faster than normal taking in the words from the pages. Or when you had reached a more romantic moment, for you would have a soft smile upon your face while playing with the necklace around your neck. Or when you came to a sad moment, you would frown and look like you were ready to put the book down, but force yourself to read on.

Compared to the other girls that flirted, threw themselves at him or he could tell they were interested in him, you were a breath of fresh air. Mattheo knew you chose to keep your distance from people. He knew you didn't really have friends, but rather acquaintances. And it wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes having to put time and effort into relationships was tiresome, and he had thought about taking a page from your book - no pun intended - sometimes.

Soon time passed and students began to head back inside and to their common rooms or dorm rooms, to discard their bags and get ready for dinner in the Great Hall. You finally stopped after a rather thrilling chapter, putting in your bookmark you put the book in your bag before getting up off the ground. After a quick stretch, you slung the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder and headed back into the castle. The whole time not realizing the deep brown eyes that followed your every more. Or when the owner of the gaze followed you inside, his friends in tow.

There had been a few times Mattheo had had a chance to talk to you, but his nerves would always get the best of him and he would chicken out. Which was very unlike him. Everyone had this image about him. Confident, a little cocky, smartass, chaotic and a tad mysterious. But he honestly was far from most of those words. For the guy couldnt work up the courage to actually talk to you!

Eventually he lost sight of you when Draco Malfoy had called him over. Reluctantly Mattheo stopped and turned from you, though it was very hard to. The fellow Slytherin had informed him that the party in their common room was going ahead. The finer details had been sorted out, and Mattheo was advised to spread the word to anyone from the other houses. Part of Mattheo hoped you would show up to the party, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. For you hadn’t shown up to any recent parties, or really any of the parties thrown.

                                                          ~~~

Later that night in the Slytherin common room, the planned party was in full swing. Student’s were dancing to the loud music, and smuggled alcohol was being consumed. All in all it looked to be talked about for weeks to come. Everyone knew every house threw parties to try and outdo the other houses. And no one was complaining.

Mattheo was standing around with his friends, drink in hand while listening to a story he’d heard Merlin know’s how many times. But get alcohol in anyone’s system and they will say just about anything, all depending on their level of intoxication. He scanned the room, noting all the girls that were eyeing him off and smiling when his gaze rolled over them. But none of them were his little antisocial bookworm.

Though unbeknownst to Mattheo; you had been dragged to the party by none other than Pansy Parkinson. You may not call her a friend, but to her you were. As you were the only brutally honest girl in your year. And Pansy respected you for it. So she had pushed you to come to the party, attempted to get you out of your shell and try to make human contact and conversation. Besides being in a classroom and maybe the brief pass in a hall or meal breaks in the Great Hall, Pansy barely heard you speak. Many thought you were mute because of your lack of speaking.

“Pansy, really I was fine staying in my dorm” you said as the mentioned female held your arm and led you through the dancing bodies. “And did you really have to pick my clothes and do my hair!?”

Ah yes she had to give you a small makeover. Pansy not only wanted to do something nice for you, she also wanted to entice one Mattheo Riddle. Pansy may come off a tad vapid and self centered, but she could see the looks both you and Mattheo gave each other. So she thought a small push might be good for you both.

“You need to socialize. Books are good, but they can’t be everything Y/N/N” Pansy said, giving you a pointed look. “And it's a party, you need to wear something a little more out there”. You rolled your eyes at Pansy’s words.

You looked down at the long sleeved, slightly low cut v-neck top Pansy had picked, and matched with a simple corduroy mini skirt that had buttons down the front. Both clothing items paired with black ankle boots. It was more fashion forward then you are used to. But you decided to humor Pansy, throw her a bone. And with your hair out, cute pins holding the hair back from your face, you felt somewhat like the main girl from your books. Though you could laugh at that notion. You weren’t meant to be the lead.

“Hello boy’s” Pansy said after you both made it through the dancing students, and over to the Slytherin boy’s she hung out with.

Deep brown orbs looked up, shock shining in his eyes upon seeing the creature at Pansy’s side. Mattheo blinked a few times, making sure it wasn't the alcohol that had him seeing you before him. And dressed in something that wasn’t the school’s uniform or lackluster clothing he had seen you in around the castle or at Hogsmeade.

Then his deep brown eyes were met with soft Y/E/C eyes, and his breath hitched before taking it away completely. Never had your eyes met this close before. Sure across the hall or class room. But here you were standing before him, allowing him to see how crystal clear your eyes are. Let’s not forget that the reaction’s Mattheo was having was exactly the same as yourself. You had run over this kind of scenario in your mind, a small moment of fantasy to get you through the afternoon or night. But you had never thought it would ever happen, till this moment.

“Y/L/N? I almost didn't recognize you!” Draco said with a surprised laugh. Which made you shrink into yourself, that self conscious feeling creeping up.

“Oh Draco, be nice” Pansy said, wrapping her arm around you, making you stiffen up from the contact. “Y/N/N is a friend. Play nice”.

‘Friend…how foreign’ you thought, observing Draco and Pansy as they continue to converse.

Mattheo was doing his best to sit back at Draco’s comments. He might have been his friend, but the guy had no ability to read a room or a person. Right from you arriving at the group he could see how uncomfortable you were, how you moved from foot to foot with uncertainty that you should be there. How fish out of water you were.

The group continued to talk, Mattheo speaking only when spoken too. You not talking, keeping to yourself like always. You had moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, once Blaise Zabini said you could and he didn’t bite. Pansy saw the pointed glare Mattheo had given the male for that comment, and she couldn't help the smirk that crept on her face.

“Y/L/N, this is the first party you've come to this year, right?” Draco asked, and you nodded. “I’m surprised you’ve stayed in your room so much. But with your head in a book, it happens”. He laughed.

Mattheo’s fist clenched. He did not like anyone making fun of his bookworm. Downing the last of his drink, Mattheo did his best to keep down what he’d like to say to his friend. He rose from his seat, he decided to get you away from this situation, fueled by the alcohol in his system giving him the courage to do so.

“Y/N” he said, a strange but exciting word leaving his tongue, getting your attention. “Why don’t we get some drinks?” Mattheo asked, holding up his empty cup and silently saying let’s take a break from them.

“Okay…” you finally spoke, not hesitating to get up from the armrest, and moving to follow Mattheo. All the while Pansy watched on, the smile on her face growing with every passing moment.

You both moved over to a corner where the drink’s were situated. Putting down his own cup, Mattheo grabbed a clean cup for you, and proceeded to pour you both a drink. You stood beside him. Not sure what to do or say, just moving from foot to foot. Handing you a cup, Mattheo clinked your cups together before taking a sip from is, not once taking his eyes off you. You followed his lead and took a large gulp of the liquid, hoping it would help with your nerves from the fine specimen before you.

“Don’t listen to Draco” Mattheo started after swallowing his sip. “The guy doesn’t understand how to read a room. He’s full of himself” he finished with a small smile.

You felt your heart skip a beat at Mattheo's small smile, brown eyes focused on you and messy brown curls that were begging to have a hand run through, ever so enticing. The temptation to pinch yourself to make sure this was real, was strong but went against it. If this was a dream you didn't want to wake up. So far tonight was female lead level, not background character. Has the world finally gone mad? This didn’t seem plausible. But here you were. At a Slytherin party. Dressed like a cool kid, drinking and standing before the leading male character. Yeah, if this was a dream you didn't want to wake up.

“It’s hard to not listen to him,” you said looking at your drink. “I’m not exactly known for my social skills” you looked back at Mattheo with a small smile, that did a number on him.

He nodded, “still...don’t take it to heart”. It was your turn to nod your head. “Is your drink alright?”

You looked down at the cup of liquor before back up to the brunet before you. “Yeah, it's fine. Thanks”.

With drink in hand, you both reluctantly went back to Pansy, Draco and Blaise. Upon your arrival, you took to sitting on the couch next to Pansy, as Blaise had moved to sit next to Draco and converse. Mattheo took to sitting on the armrest next to you. You all sat there, conversation being made by the Slytherin friends. You sat there and observed them, being so close to people you had observed from afar was strange. Going from the onlooker, to the insider was new.

After a few more drinks, consumed by you and Pansy, said girl dragged you to dance. You had tried to dig your heels in and protest, but she didn't take no for an answer. You moved with the uncertainty and grace of a baby animal learning to walk. A total train wreck. But Mattheo thought it added to your quirky, cuteness. He watched as you slowly loosen up, and soon moved more freely, feeling the music. The liquor in your system was finally taking effect. You felt like you were floating as you moved around with Pansy, a small smile on your lips and an occasional laugh escaping your mouth.

Once you and Pansy started to get out of breath and tired, both made it back over to the boys. By now their group had gained three other people; two Ravenclaw girls and one Hufflepuff boy. You perched yourself on an armrest catching your breath and fanning yourself. All the while Mattheo never taking his eyes off you, unless entirely necessary.

“How about we play a party game” Pansy said, suddenly looking around the group. “Has anyone ever played suck and blow?”

A few answered they had, Mattheo being one of them. You on the other hand had not, nor any idea of what the game was. Thankfully both Ravenclaw girl’s didn't know what the game was either. So Pansy explained the game. Using a playing card, you had to pass the card around to another player only using your mouth, hence suck and blow. The goal is to make it around the circle without dropping the card; if it's one person or two that drops the card, they need to take a drink from their cup before trying again.

“Everyone understand?” Pansy asked, getting a playing card. Everyone nodded their heads. “Wonderful! Now let's move to sit in a circle.

You all moved to a decent space away from the dance floor. Pansy took charge and made sure it went boy, girl, boy, girl, etc. And making sure to put you and Mattheo next to each other, and sadly one of the Ravenclaw girls on his other side. When everyone was sitting, cups in front and ready to go. Pansy started it off going right, placing the card to her lips she sucked to hold the card in place before getting close to Draco to hand the card off to his mouth. As he came in and sucked, Pansy blew just enough so the card was passed off perfectly. Draco turned and handed off to the other Ravenclaw girl, who then passed off to Blaise. From there he passed onto the next Ravenclaw girl, she just managed to save the card from dropping, making everyone watch with bated breath. She passed the card onto Mattheo, who took it with ease. Then he turned to you, eyes looking directly into yours. He moved close and brought his card covered lips to yours. Thankfully you managed to somehow function and take the card from him. Though his scent, cigarettes and cologne hit you, dulling your sensors for a moment.

The first round would have been successful if the Hufflepuff guy, after getting the card from you, had been able to off load to Pansy. But their timing at pass over faltered, the card falling from them. And they both had to drink from their cups, all the while everyone else laughed. Draco commented she was lucky he didn't kiss her. Which sent your and Mattheo’s minds into thought. That could have been them. How close they would be to kissing. Mattheo had wished he had been tempted and dropped the card, his lips coming in contact with your own. He had always wondered what it would be like, what your lips felt like. He knew he had to do it, the liquor encouraging him to do so.

Draco started this time, passing the card onto Pansy, who then passed it to the Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff guy looked to be struggling, and Mattheo prayed his pass to you either was successful or it dropped and no lips touching. They were his lips, and only he would get your kiss. The hand off failed and the card fell, thankfully no lip colliding. Both you and the Hufflepuff guy took a drink. But when he tried again, he failed again and had no lip touch. Another drink from the alcohol before you both. Your head was starting to swim, you weren’t sure if you liked it or not. This time the hand off was successful, the group cheering with a laugh. Now you had to pass it to Mattheo. Your heart skipped a beat when his eyes met yours, the pointed gaze he gave you, it sent a shiver down your spine.

You moved in towards Mattheo, just as he moved towards you. You moved your arm, hand on the ground to brace yourself, and it brushed his leg just as you both came in close to pass the card to the other. Feeling your arm brush his leg caused Mattheo to lose his breath. The playing card falling from between you both, as you had just blown the card. Mattheo’s lips came into contact with your lips. Realization flashed across your eyes, that continued to look into the brown pools of Mattheo's. He noted your lips were soft, fitting perfectly with his own. Hearing the laughter and whistles from those around you, you pulled away from Mattheo, saying sorry and avoiding his gaze. He never took his eyes off you, more interested in watching you then playing the game or those around you both.

Pansy was grinning like the cat that got the cream. But then told you both to drink up, which you did, and then had to try again. This time you managed to hand off the card, making sure to avoid Mattheo’s gaze. Afraid that you’d falter and the card would fall, but would you both kiss again? You shook the thought from your head. The thought of kissing him made your stomach flutter with butterflies. Yes, you had fantasized kissing Mattheo. You never thought you would get too. But you did. Truly an experience that no imagination could get right.

After that round a few more people came over wanting to join the game so you opted out, a Gryfindor girl taking your place. You headed over to the drinks table and made yourself another drink, slightly on the stronger side. After kissing Mattheo you needed the drink. You drank your drink watching the group you had just been a part of. You watched Mattheo. He was laughing and enjoying himself. You watched as the Ravenclaw passed him the playing card, she was so close you know she'd gladly get in his lap. Then he turned, now passing the card to the Gryffindor girl, who you saw place her hand on his knee.

Reality washed over you in a harsh wave as you watched those before you. They were laughing, drinking and having fun. The dancing bodies across the room, lost in the music. It was all another life, part of the social scene. One which you knew you didn't fit into. The role of the observer, the outcast screaming in your mind. Part of you telling you that you didn't belong, that Pansy, Mattheo and their friends were humoring you, maybe you were some sick joke for their amusement.

Your breathing began to pick up with the thoughts running through your mind. Maybe you were a joke, a social experiment. Slytherins were known to be cruel. But a small part of you didnt believe Pansy would do that. You both had a mutual respect for the other after one time being in the girls bathroom after Potions class. Two Gyrffindor girls were making fun of Pansy. Unfortunately neither realized that said girl was in the stall next to you. Pansy casually opened the door while one of the girls was mid insult, upon seeing the Slytherin girl all words were lost and silence followed. Next there was the turn of a tap and running water, you gathered Pansy was washing her hands. As she dried her hands, that's when the Slytherin bared her fangs before striking, Pany's retort to what the gossiping girls was the brutalest you had ever heard. Without a word both Gyrffindor's hightailed it out the bathroom. You heard her sigh in frustration. And that was the moment you bumped the cubicle door.

"Who's there!? Come out!" She said in anger.

You exited the stall with hands up, showing no ill intention. Upon seeing you Pansy relaxed, leaning back against the sink. You slowly moved to the sink next to her, when you were sure she wasn't going to verbally abuse you, and washed your hands.

"I know everyone talks about me" Pansy said offhandedly. "I shouldn't play into their hands. But sometimes you have to stand up for yourself".

You nodded your head drying your hands. "I understand. If people are going to paint you as a villain, you might as well give them what they want" and with that you left the bathroom and Pansy.

You downed what was left in your cup before placing it on the table, that was it for the night. It was time to leave, time to take yourself back to your dorm room, where you could finally feel safe and secure. Time to discard the clothing that you wore and put on that that was familiar, trustworthy. You could take refuge in your bed, wrap yourself up in your blankets where no one would judge you, mock you. It was time to crawl back into the background, hide from the main stage and go back to being nothing more.

Mattheo had been playing the tedious game, making his friends happy. But he had been keeping an eye on you. Watching and gauging your every movement. He wondered what was going through your mind. Were you thinking about him, the kiss? Because he had been. It was just about consuming him. And fueled by alcohol he wanted to kiss you again, feeling the courage to do it. When both Ravenclaw and Gryfindor girls had got bold during that round of suck and blow, Mattheo decided to step away from the game, saying he was getting a drink.

Looking back to the drink table and you once he was up on his feet, Mattheo was confused when you werent there any more. He looked around, surely you couldn't have gone far. He spotted your back as you made your way towards the dancing students. Without another thought he went after you. He needed to check on you, make sure you were okay. Coming to a hallway he saw you slowly making your way from the common room.

"Y/N" Matheo called out to you. You stopped upon hearing your name but never turned to face him. "You okay?" He asked, walking closer to you.

You took a deep breath, trying to get your head to focus and form words. You were shocked someone had come after you, but you were in disbelief it was Mattheo. Said male came to your side, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Ah...yeah!" You said a little flustered. "Just heading to my room...all partied out…"

Mattheo nodded his head, though he didn't fully buy your answer. But he did not push it. He was grateful for this moment, for tonight. And wasn't going to ruin it in any way. Mattheo moved to lean against the wall of the hall, his eyes never leaving you. Maybe he was afraid if he looked away you'd be gone.

"You look good" Mattheo suddenly said, eyes roaming over you. "Not that you don't look good everyday! It's just nice to see you in something different!" He'd kick himself if he could. Tripping over his words.

You could feel the blush on your face from his words. Hearing what he had to say made your stomach flip. "Thank you…" you said softly.

Mattheo smiled at your words. "Did you have a good time tonight? Hopefully the party wasn't too boring" he laughed softly rubbing the back of his neck.

You looked up at Mattheo, your eyes meeting yet again. "It wasn't bad…" you started, pausing to think over your next choice of words. "It wasn't bad...just not something I'm used to. After all; I'm the recluse, antisocial bookworm haha".

He nodded. "I get it. But I'm glad you came" he said with a soft smile.

Those butterflies coming back in full force. Pushing off the wall, liquid courage taking over, Mattheo moved to stand before you. He pushed back your hair so it fell over your shoulder and down you back, his finger moving softly along your shoulder, softly caressing the small chain around your neck and finger tips running over the pendant of your necklace.

"I hope you'll come to the next party" he said breathlessly, his brown orbs drowning in your own. "Maybe you could even come to The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer with us?" Neither of you were sure if he meant just the two of you or with him and his friends. But there was no clearing that up on his part.

"Sounds...good" you replied with a shaking breath.

Flashing you a bright smile Mattheo reluctantly dropped his hand and stepped back from you, allowing you both a chance to breathe. "I will say good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow. That I shall say good night till it be morrow", and finished with a slightly dramatic bow.

At first you were stunned. Letting his words and actions compute in your brain. Once it registered you blushed and laughed softly at his ode to a classic play that you read often.

"Goodnight Mattheo…" you said softly before turning from the Slytherin before you, and finally heading back to your room for the night.

                                                             ~~~

A/N: I’m open to constructive criticism haha. I’m thinking of doing a follow up one-shot, let me know what you think.

[sofiareidings]

Coffee Runs

Summary: The guy who's been coming to the cafe you work at finally asked why you've never called him by his name.

A/N: I'm sorry this story is so late, especially since I missed Monday's post. School has been so busy this week and I've also had a bunch if extracurricular lately. I'll try and be more on time from now on (Don't hold me to that) Also! I got the idea for this one shot from @hanllo-kitty

Word Count: 0.8k

Song Suggestions: Invisible String - Taylor Swift

It was a good job, a great job really. The cafe was in a nicer part of town and people would subconsciously give nice tips so your pay was good. Rarely were customers terrible. Most people that came in were students or really busy people rushing in and going.

There were a few regulars. Like Joe, Joe was an eighty year old man who came in everyday for a coffee and a sandwich. While he waited he would talk about the lotto numbers and how his kids were doing. There was also Lola, she was a journalist who spent most of her day sitting in the corner of the cafe while refilling the same cup until closing.

But there was only one regular you would think about while getting ready for work.

Come on, I don't know his name. Don't shoot the messenger.

He'd been coming in for the past three months almost everyday, right after the cafe opened for a coffee. He always looked a little tired and acted like it too. He barely made conversation and normally shuffled out of the store in the same fashion as the other overworked people; quickly.

You hadn't learned his name yet. He always seemed to forget to say it when you asked, which resulted in you making up something.

"Guy with the sweater vest!"

"Guy in the purple!"

"Guy with the scarf!"

You get the point.

He was your favourite regular because of his looks. God, even when he was incredibly sleep deprived he looked beautiful. He had brown hair that fell just below his sharp jaw. Brown eyes that always happened to be in the light from the cafe window, making the small gold flakes in his eyes shine. He was normally dressed in a sweater vest and neutral pants, he probably worked at some type of office. The one part of him that stood out in his outfits were his converse, odd for the rest of his outfit. You could've sworn a few times you saw brightly coloured mismatched socks.

***

The sound of the cafe bell echoed through the nearly empty shop, having only opened half an hour ago. Smiling in the direction of the person walking in you quickly noticed it was 'Guy with *whatever he had on*" who came in. Something was different, he had thick glasses on. That was new.

"Hey, just the regular coffee and donut?" You put the order into the computer, looking back up at him. Taking in the new look.

"Yeah, thanks." His lips creased into a line, you called it a tired smile, the same one he made everyday. He handed over his money and poured the change into the tip jar then stepped back to wait for his order.

A couple minutes later you came back to the counter with his order. "Guy with the glasses!"

He did his usual, smiled and grabbed his order saying bye. But just when he reached the threshold of the door he paused and turned. "Why do you do that?"

Having already turned around you paused, this was the first time he'd talked to you in a clear voice. You weren't really sure what he meant. "Do what? Did I get your order wrong?"

He cleared his throat and seemed a little frustrated. "You never say my name, you just call me guy with something. Is it just to annoy me?"

"What? No, you've just never told me your name." Laughing a little, realising the misunderstanding.

"I didn't?" His face changed to confusion, "Oh my gosh, I didn't." He realised his mistake then his face flushed a shade of red.

"Don't worry, it's okay. Guy with the glasses." You laughed, looking around the cafe for a minute, strange it was still pretty empty.

"I am so sorry, I thought I told you and you just wanted to annoy me. I feel like a jerk, you seem so nice." Genuinely sorry he apologised profusely. "Can I make it up to you?"

Deciding to take the chance, you'd been daydreaming about this guy for months. "Well, maybe you could take me on a date." A little shocked by your own boldness, your face went up like twelve degrees.

"Uh, yeah…" He trailed off, clearly flustered. "Yeah, I would really like that."

"Well then, it's a date." You beamed, internally jumping up and down out of excitement. Since when were you so forward? He made that smile he made everyday before turning towards the door again.

That's when you realised.

"Wait!" You shouted, louder than you expected. Causing your coworker to drop a cup. "You still haven't told me your name."

"It's Spencer. I'll make sure to be back tomorrow." He nodded again and chuckled lightly before finally walking through the door.

God could tomorrow morning come any quicker.

[cxptain-capsicle]

Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | III

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

Series Masterlist Taglist

“Luke.” You whispered, trying not to wake any of the other campers. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” He whispered back. “You okay?”

You had been at Camp for a few months now and Luke was already accustomed to being woken up from you jolting out of bed after a nightmare. He joked that some mornings he would nearly be thrown out of the top bunk.

“I didn;t have a nightmare, I just can’t sleep.” Your voice trailed off at the end. Within a second Luke was out of the top bunk, his feet hitting the hard wood made a loud sound that made you jump.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You sat up in the bed and he came to sit next to you.

“I just-” You started but struggled to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll be claimed.” After your few weeks at camp the topic of being claimed felt taboo, like everyone was thinking the same thing and nobody wanted to say it. 

“You don’t know that.” He shook his head. “I knew a girl who got claimed after being here for almost a year. It can take time.”

“I’m tired of waiting.” You were too afraid to say anything negative about the gods while in one of their cabins. Especially the messenger god. “I just feel really alone.”

Luke didn’t say anything, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other at the side of your head and pulled you into a hug.

When you woke up Percy was still asleep, you normally didn’t take too much to the new kids but you liked this one. You would be the first one to admit that you were jealous of the new arrivals seeing as most of them would be claimed within weeks. There was no point in becoming buddy-buddy with someone who would go off and get so wrapped up in their new siblings and godly parent that they forget all about you. Three years of radio silence from the gods had made you a little bitter. Luke would argue that maybe it was more than a little.

“I’m gonna take Percy around camp today,” Luke was slouched against the pillow in your bed. He grabbed one of his shoes and forcefully put it on. “Wanna come?”

“Get your shoes off of my bed.” You shoved his leg off the side of the bed, forcing him to sit up next to you. “And I’ll pass, Annabeth and I are gonna talk capture the flag.” 

“Oh come on I thought you liked him?” Luke always tried to get you to join him but talking about nothing but getting claimed for 3 hours wasn’t your idea of fun. 

“Not that much.” Before Luke could respond Percy sat up from his spot on the floor with a jolt. You had been asking Charlie Beckendorf, a Hephaestus camper, to make more bed frames for the cabin for months but it kept falling to the bottom of his priority list. Over the past few years the amount of kids in the Hermes cabin has grown faster than you could accommodate.

“You okay?” Luke asked as he rose to his feet.

“Super.” Percy groaned as he pulled himself off of the ground.

“We all have them, you know.” Luke was always the first to comfort new campers. “Intense, recurring nightmares. That's normal here. And the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you're just like everyone else.”

“So are you also…” Percy said slowly. “Do you not know who your-”

“Am I unclaimed?” Luke finished for him. He glanced over at you instinctually. “No, Hermes is my father.” Like always mentioning Hermes made Luke stand up straighter. “That doesn't matter, we're all on the same team here.”

“I’m unclaimed.” You told Percy. “I’ve been here for 3 years.”

“Why is that okay?” He was talking directly to you now. “Why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since the day I got here.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, he sounded exactly like you. “I get how you’re feeling but no matter what happens you’re gonna be fine.”

“Spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you'll drive yourself crazy.” Luke warned. “Sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

“And what's that?” Percy asked.

“Glory.” Luke smirked. “Demigods have always fought for glory. They used to call it kleos. It's like this stuff that attaches itself to your name. Makes it bigger, scarier, more important. People listen closer when you talk, they work harder to be your friend and they think twice about messing with you.” Before Luke could finish Clarisse passed by bumping Percy in the shoulder. 

“Hey!” Percy exclaimed, causing Clarisse to quickly turn around and push him down to the ground. 

“Woah!” Luke stepped up to Clarisse. “Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It's like his first day, come on.” You grabbed Percy’s arm and helped him up off the ground.

“Wait, so this is the kid who killed the Minotaur.” She had a devilish smile on her face. “Is that right?”

“Yeah?” Percy said cautiously. 

“I'll bet. Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.” Clarisse made a fake lunge for him, causing Percy to jump.

“Clarisse, let it go.” You chimed in. She glanced at you for a moment before turning away with her friends. You and Clarisse weren’t friends exactly, she wasn’t friends with anyone outside of her cabin, especially not an unclaimed kid, but you weren’t enemies. You got along well enough, you would spar together, you mutually respected each other. Every once in a while you might even have a few laughs at the campfire.

“Well, she seems nice.” Percy said flatly. 

“Ares kids.” Luke sighed. “They come by it honestly.”

“Maybe she’ll grow on you.” You shrugged. “I kinda like her, then again she doesn’t bother me.”

“Why don't they mess with you?” Percy asked Luke.

“They know better.” Luke said proudly. 

“Luke's the strongest swordsman at camp.” Chris explained.

“I’m second.” You chimed in. “For the record.”  

“So, they leave you alone because ‘glory’?” Percy asked and Luke nodded. “So if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn't mess with me either?”

“Exactly.”

“And people think I'm a big deal?”

“Well, sorta, but-” Luke started.

“I don’t know about all that.” You said

“And my dad's got no choice but to claim me.” Percy finished. You and Luke sighed and looked at eachother. You understood his eagerness to be seen. 

“You can't force the gods to do anything.” Luke told Percy gently.

“Believe me, I’d know. I tried.” You added.

“Well, yeah, but... it would make it harder for him to pretend I don't exist, right?” 

“It’s worth a shot.” You shrugged.

“It is?” Luke swiveled to look at you.

“I mean it couldn’t hurt.” You just wanted to give the poor kid some hope.

“Great.” Percy perked up. “Where do we start?”

When you had nightmares you knew you were in a dream but that didn’t make it any less scary. You were on a beach, it was dark, the sky shades of purple and blue. There were storms; the waves were five times higher than your head. You were alone, the beach extended as far as your eyes could see. With nothing else to do you began walking down the beach. With every step your feet became heavier- wait, no- you were sinking. The sand was vibrating causing you to sink further and further into it. You were struggling to try to pull your feet out of the sand until you heard voices that made you freeze. Luke. Then Annabeth. Grover. Clarisse. And a young boy's voice that you didn’t recognize. You could make out each of their voices but not what they were saying. Their voices were frantic, they were calling for help, they were in danger. You fought harder but it only made you sink faster.

“Luke!” You screamed out just as your head went beneath the sand.

You woke up with a jolt gasping for air, panting, and drenched in sweat. You peered to the bunk above you to see if you had woken Luke but there was no movement. You pulled yourself out of bed as quietly as possible to not wake anyone. You debated waking Luke but decided against it. You slipped your shoes on and grabbed a jacket that you kept by your bed. As quietly as you could you tiptoed across the cabin and out the front door. You went out the door past the Hephaestus cabin, then Apollo, Ares, then Poseidon. Just as you were about to pass the mess hall a voice erupted from the silence of the night. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” It was Luke. 

“Oh my gods, Luke.” You nearly doubled over with shock. “You didn’t have to sneak up on me.”

“Why are you out here?” He came close to you, placing his hands on the sides of your arms. “It’s the middle of the night. It’s freezing.”

“I- I had another nightmare.” 

“The same one?” He asked and you nodded. You had been at camp for almost a year now and had been having the same dream for almost six months. “Why are you out here?”

“I just needed fresh air, I guess.” You crossed your arms over your chest, honestly you didn’t know why you were out here.

Luke gave you a sympathetic smile. 

“Okay let’s walk then.”

You and Luke walked together quietly for a while. You walked through the woods until you reached the Long Island sound. It was the same beach as the one in your dream but even in the dead of night it wasn’t as cold, as scary as it was in your dreams. Sometimes after a particularly bad night you would come here to remind yourself that it was just a dream. This was the first time Luke had come with you to the beach and it gave you much more comfort. 

“This isn’t your first time out here is it?” Luke glanced at you with a smile, he knew the answer.

“No,” You chuckled. “I guess I find it relaxing.”

The two of you found a place to sit on the sand just above the tide. Luke sat to your left, your shoulders touching trying to conserve the little warmth between you. There was a silence between you that felt safe and comfortable. You rested your head on Luke’s shoulder and he rested his head against yours. You felt something cold touch the side of your hand and looked down to see Luke's hand inching closer to yours. It felt like you were moving in slow motion but eventually Luke had your hand clasped in his. You and Luke had always had a special relationship. From the second he found you in the cave and pulled you into his lap you were bonded. He gave you his bunk when you came to camp. Showed you around and always stayed at your side. Listened to you grovel about not being claimed day in and day out. You had hugged before but never held hands and it never felt like this before.

“You’re not alone.” Luke whispered to you. The sound of the waves and Luke’s voice were music to your ears. You were entranced, Luke was so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon providing just enough light to bounce off of the water and reflect onto Lukes face. The light made his brown eyes glitter. You had never looked at Luke this way before. You were so close and millimeter by millimeter you were getting closer and closer-

“Oh!” You both exclaimed as the freezing cold water of the tide splashed up on you both, soaking you in sea water. Each of you rose to your feet eagerly running from the water before doubling over in laughter.

“Oh, that’s freezing!” You cried out through your laughs. When you finally caught your breath Luke was in front of you staring down at you seriously. “What is it?”

“I mean it,” He was breathing heavily. “You’re not alone here.” 

“I know Luke,” You nodded. “But-,” Luke cocked his head, unsure of what else you had to say.

“I’ve been alone my whole life Luke. No parents, no family. Camp was where I was supposed to find that. But my parent couldn’t care less that I even exist.” You rambled.

“I know that you’re upset-” Luke tried but you cut him off.

“I’m not upset Luke. I’m angry!” You shouted. You felt your face turn hot with anger, your heart beat fast. “I’m furious that they would abandon me-”

“Y/n-” Luke tried but you kept going.”

“They would humiliate me, over and over. My entire life!” You were fuming, your blood boiling.

“Y/n!” He shouted.

“What!” You yelled back. Just now you realized that Luke wasn’t looking at you. He was looking behind you. You turned around to see a massive wave, 30 feet high, suspended behind you. Your anger turned to confusion and just as it did the wave came crashing down at your feet, returning to the sea like it was never there.

Feel free to leave feedback, suggestions, and headcannons in the inbox. I love incorporating your guy's ideas!

Taglist:

@fudosl @lenasvoid @light-23 @petrichorvzlia-blog @heartzflwers @vampsaddicted @bbgkaykay @shiara04 @teigo-the-explorer @number-onekidqueen

[songmingisthighs]

Oddeleny

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxi - no <3

ghost!yeosang × reader

genre : ghost!au

rating, warning : mature; crude jokes and filthy language, physical fight

wc : 1.3 k

buy me coffee ?

a connection once had, broken with the expectation that the ending is final. but life has an odd proclivity of making attachments from detachments. in the end, we don't know what we lost until we look at what we have

"You're exaggerating!" You laughed loudly at the man before you. Well, the screen before you.

"No, I'm not! Hongjoong hyung said your cousin told him to tell me that he's a clumsy guy so he might drop me into the toilet bowl or something!" Yeosang squeaked, trying to convince you that your cousin had sent a messenger to threaten him. "Oh you're trusting the words of Kim Hongjoong? The guy who can't even remember where he put his things?" you raised an eyebrow at Yeosang who rolled his eyes on you, "And besides, Leo oppa still doesn't completely believe that you're actually stuck in a phone." Confused, Yeosang furrowed his eyebrows, "But he saw me the other day? Remember? We were all cooking and he walked by and we definitely made eye contact and all!" "Why does it matter? Why do you want him to acknowledge you so much? Do you have a crush on him or something?" Yeosang immediately made a gagging noise and pretended to choke himself. "Yeosang, stop that! You're acting stupid!" you laughed, snorting when you saw Yeosang trashing around on the small screen. Yeosang paused his acting to raise an eyebrow at you, "And make you stop laughing? No way, I have a lot to make up for and I'm starting now," he said pointedly.

Yeosang's words halted your laughter as the gravity of what he said struck you. "You're serious about that, huh?" the tone of your voice soften and Yeosang took notice of it, "Like a heart attack," he said with a faux serious face. Having been around you for a while, he picked up some of your quirks like how serious conversations make you nervous so he tried to make the situation more lighthearted. And it worked because you sputtered and laughed loudly at Yeosang who couldn't help but crack a grin at how comfortable you had gotten with him over time, "Don't you mean like a coma?" you teased which made Yeosang make a faux scandalized look.

Once your laughter subsided, you and Yeosang stared at each other for a bit before bursting out laughing out of the blue. It took a while until the two of you calmed down. The vibe made you suddenly think of the kind of relationship you had developed in recent times. It was almost impossible to think that there was animosity between the two of you. The rift between you existed due to trauma and it was almost ironic that you two reconciled with the help of another trauma.

"When you get out of this," you shuffled in your seat so you could lean closer to the screen, reaching a hand out as if to touch Yeosang, "We're gonna make up for lost time, okay? Fresh start. As if the past decade was a momentary break of insanity," you stated firmly. Yeosang had been the one to advocate for the two of you to reconcile and while he understood your hesitation, it still made him think that you may not want to reconcile. But seeing you taking the first step, Yeosang felt hopeful and absolutely grateful and he showed it by reaching a hand out as if to touch you through the screen. "I would really like that actually. And thank you for understanding, I'll be sure to be the one making things up to you once I go back," Yeosang's voice waivered a bit and it was obvious that he was trying to hold his tears back. Thankfully you didn't comment on it and even playfully rolled your eyes, "Well, I'm being genuine here. You did spend a bunch of time with Jung Wooyoung, you might have caught his crazy and I'll be honest, that worried me," you teased.

The serenity was ripped out of your hands the same way you were ripped from your seat all of a sudden with a yank to your hair which was hard enough that you and the chair fell sideways.

With your head spinning, you tried your best to focus your eyes, but everything still came out slightly blurred. But not even the sudden impact could make you miss the figure standing in front of you, holding your phone in his hands with shaky hands.

"I knew it, I knew I wasn't crazy," Wooyoung shuddered shakily, eyes wide and crazed as he stared at Yeosang inside your phone, too surprised to utter anything.

"That's debatable," you groaned as you tried to get up, stumbling as your brain was trying to regain your balance, "What the fuck is with you and breaking in, you fucking psycho?" Wooyoung snapped his gaze to you and looked at you from top to bottom with an expression that was more neutral than you liked, save for the shaky hands. Considering the surprising turn of events, the revelation, and also the gravity of the truth, the look on Wooyoung's face made him seem more unstable. Like someone who was beyond unhinged. The calm before the damn fucking sharknado.

"I know Leo hyung's passcode but that is not important right now because for WEEKS I thought I was going crazy because of that one night in Yeosang's room, I thought I was hallucinating because I was carrying the guilt of what happened in that alley but no, this proves that I'm not crazy and this proves that you people have it out on me. You people are trying to make it seem like I'm mentally incompetent because you all have it out on me so you can ruin me!" Wooyoung screamed out, pointing at you accusingly. "And you," Wooyoung then put the phone up to his face, "How are you doing this? What the fuck is going on? Are you even really in a coma?" he asked hurriedly. Yeosang stared at his friend (who he was sure would become his former friend once he went back to his body) incredulously, "Really? You really think I would fake being in a coma?" "Well, you WERE a fake friend to me, traitor!" Wooyoung screamed into the phone.

You regained your stability back rather quickly and once you did, you pushed Wooyoung down on the ground with a huff. "Stop being dramatic, you asshole. Yeosang was being your friend even when you covered up the person who got him hurt in middle school and then you even dared hurt him, both to cover your ass and until a while ago, he was still advocating for your mercy until you showed him just the kind of person you are."

Wooyoung was about to get up when you stepped on his chest, "What will it take for you to realize that you have gone too damn far that it truly seems like nothing can redeem you?" you asked, looking at him with disdain and pity. Disdain because he truly had gone over the rails and is now squatting in crazy town and pity because you realized that your parents had truly fucked up by investing all they have in the wrong child. "Stop being condescending you bitch," Wooyoung hissed and grabbed your leg that was on his chest, pulling it to the side so that you lost your balance and fall on your ass. Wooyoung shuffled to get away but you grabbed on his leg tightly, "Wooyoung, stop fucking resisting! Give up!" you yelled but he trashed around, refusing to give up, "No! I'm not going to go down over this! I now have proof that you were trying to ruin me!" "Oh give it a fucking rest you asshole, you're not that important in my life that I want to ruin you! I just want you to stop so you won't hurt more people! Try as you may, but there is no scenario where you'll get out of this unscathed, Wooyoung."

Your words rang deep in Wooyoung's head and as the thought sunk in, you took it as an opportunity for you to get up and get your phone back. Looking down at your twin brother, you shook your head and exhaled sharply, "Things would've been way easier if you had just cooperated during the intervention, Wooyoung. But you just HAD to complicate things for yourself," you averted your gaze down to your phone to see Yeosang looking panicked and perhaps slightly pale. You considered the possibility of him experiencing being shaken like a protein shake.

"Are you okay?" you asked, cringing at Yeosang who just nodded quickly, "I'll be even more okay if you call the authorities now and get Wooyoung booked," he pointed out. Realizing that, you quickly nodded in agreement, "Good idea."

Head buried in your phone as you type in the number for the authorities and tried to decide on what to say to the authorities, you completely missed Wooyoung standing back up and looking at you menacingly. His eyes zeroed in on you and his hands shakily reached for you. The last thing you heard was Yeosang screaming your name from the phone and boom, you were tackled and your head hit something hard.

What the hell just happened?

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[ketchupkio]

A scene I've been wanting to draw from The Stolen Altars: ch 26! Wild knows EXACTLY what they're doing, poor Time.

Wild (they/any, but she/her for Time) and Time (he/him) are from @ageless-soul-au, pls don't tag any other AUs!!

😇😳 kofi 😳😇

Full scene below!

“I guess being told you have three days to live if you fuck up, with proof, will make you reevaluate your attitude a little,” Time sighed. “You were also staring at [Revali] a bunch.”

Wild’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? It's a little hard to see past the beak sticking out of his face.”

“That's not—.... I dunno, it was half like you were waiting for something and half... Something else.”

“Maybe I was just realizing that he can hold a conversation and not be a pompous dickbag if someone puts their foot down,” Wild shrugged. “Should I go find him to test it out again?”

Time grimaced. “I'd rather you didn't, if I'm honest. I'm not saying we need to have another discussion, but he's still toolish and I don't feel like sharing you or your time with him.”

Wild's eyes lit up dangerously. She set her hands on Time's hips and leaned in, pressing him back against the stone brazier. “Possessive, maybe?” she asked coyly.

He pouted, face going red immediately. “N-no!! .....Maybe. I— w-we don't really have the time for this, right? S-so...”

“Teasing you relaxes me,” Wild purred.

“W-we’re also in the middle of the room!” Time whispered, high-pitched enough to silence his voice on some syllables.

“And?” Wild countered, her eyes wide and innocent.

“A-and what if somebody walks in? Goddess forbid it's Twilight, o-or one of the other Champions—!”

“You think I'm gonna do something inappropriate to you where someone can see? C’mon, Time, I know you're not into that,” Wild cooed. “....Or are you?”

His face was absolutely beautiful. Wild basked in the heat coming off of it like the many species who thrived in the desert sun. She was grinning as she leaned into his chest and put her arms over his shoulders, one of her legs gently sliding against his inner thigh.

“Ah.... I-I— um—” Time stammered, only to be interrupted by a soft, gentle, timid cough.

Mipha lingered hesitantly at the doorway.

“Is.... Is this a bad time...?” she asked. “We’re getting ready to head to the castle...”

Wild was unhurried as she looked over at Mipha and then peeled herself off of Time. “No, it's fine. Someone’ll need to flag down Revali.”

“There was a messenger Rito at the inn, one of Urbosa’s guards went to go and get her,” Mipha replied, “so it shouldn't be long now. I think the Rito’s name was Viloon.”

“T-that's good then,” Time stuttered, still undeniably red. “I-it'll be good to get out of the heat... I feel like I'm almost in a daze...”

Mipha nodded emphatically with a knowing smile. “Agreed!”

[meiiie]

dave lizewski, i’m so into you. (pt. 1)

summary: you say something unexpected about Kick-Ass while discussing with your friends which hero you prefer the most.. Kick-Ass? Or Red Mist? little did Dave know or so you thought, you knew it was him all along..

a/n: uhh this is just a silly little imagine.. no one is probably going to see this post anyway but i’m new to this so this isn’t really the best thing i wrote, i hope u still enjoy reading this LOL i’ve also added my OC named Melilah who will be your best friend in this, um slight nsfw mention near the end but no actual action, thats it i think! yeah that’s it, happy reading :)

(pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader) link to pt. 2

word count: 1.5k

It was a normal day, going to school, attending your classes, eating lunch, procrastinating your school works, submitting homework… attending more classes… rinse and repeat. But today was not what you expected, like.. at all.

ring ring… ring ring… you pick up your ringing phone while walking down the street, on your way to the convenience store.

“hello.?” your voice turns out more tired and groggier than you expected “hey when are you getting home sweetie? the food is getting cold and its already almost 6:30 pm, where are you?” your mom says with a worried voice, you could already imagine her face by just hearing her voice

this week has probably been one of the most stressful weeks of your entire life, class has been giving more school works, more due dates, you probably see your life flashing before your eyes right now “um yeah i’m on the way home already, don’t worry mom!” you say attempting to make your voice sound enthusiastic “well you better not be hanging out with that pretty boy.. actually maybe you should invite him for dinne-”

“mom— i—“ you cut her off but then you sigh giving up to even explain. “…he’s just a friend i swear..”

this supposedly ‘pretty boy’ your mom is referring to is Dave Lizewski, this guy in your class who you were paired up to work on a major project so he’s been at your house a few times already. surprisingly you get along with him really well? you’ve even become a part of his friend group including your best friend Melilah. She always points out the fact he always stares at you whenever you all hang out in Atomic Comics and during classes, but you’ve never really thought about him that way, or maybe you were considering it?

while walking down the road the street lights flicker a bit and you see someone trying to hanging onto the ledge of a billboard of some sort. you hear the figure shout at the cat sitting, waiting for him to fall “FUCK YOU MR BITEY!” his voice echoes, but wait.. why does his voice sound so familiar…? “okay okay okay, but call me and update me on where you are okay? be here quick, i love you!” your mom says- *THUD* you quickly look at the direction where the person, you assume, fell “UH yeah i’ll call you! i love you mom, BYE!” you say hastily, almost whispering.

beeeep.. beeeep.. you hang up the phone call, quickly putting your phone back in your messenger bag and hide behind a car. you spot a green figure, uh, “what in the world is that…” you think to yourself. the figure is wearing a weird.. cosplay suit.. it’s almost as if he looks like a green condo-

your thoughts are interrupted as he storms off looking frustrated, most probably because of the cat he couldn’t save.. he walks hurriedly into the dark alley. for some what reason you felt a little curious, just a little bit. so you go and follow the ‘super hero’, “this is so stupid.. someone remind me why I’m doing this to myself?” you whisper to yourself as you hide behind a pole, (you think this helps you stay hidden but you should’ve seen dave’s face when he saw you) trying to get a peek at the stranger. he takes off his mask angrily, you watch his curls fall into place, there are some scratches on his face from the fall, “damn why does he look so fine” you say in your thoughts and then you realize.

those are the blue eyes you see everyday in school, THAT’S DAVE LIZEWSKI. you silently gasp covering your face. his eyes dart at your direction, he shudders at the sound of your noise then next thing you know you start running away like a cockroach flew at your direction “WAIT!” he shouts, good thing you ran quick enough so he probably didn’t see your face, key word: probably.. actually there was no reason to be running from him at all- but you just felt like it..? considering you’re still in your denial stage about your feelings for him, who wouldn’t? you open the door to your house and get in as fast as you could just in case he followed you. the tv is bright and the news displays the text in bold ‘SUPERHERO KICKASS SAVES THE DAY’ you stare at the tv in shock because that’s… how… he’s Dave..?

your mom pops out of the kitchen “hey your back home! i thought you were going to call me to update me where you were..- oh yeah that superhero… what’s his name? Kickass? apparently he stopped a bunch of guys yesterday who were trying to beat up another guy that was in front of a convenience store and a bunch of people saw it then recorded blah blah blah you get it” you just stare at the tv in shock. “hello…? earth to y/n?”

it’s been almost 2 days, you’ve been avoiding Dave, trying not to make eye contact with him, passing by him in the halls, not even acknowledging his presence, even avoiding the hangouts to Atomic Comics, despite the fact you still have to do a major project with him. you open your locker getting books out of your locker, “hey have you heard about those two new superheros? Kickass? and Red Mist?” Melilah questions and your eyes widen at the question, only being reminded of Dave “yeah- well- i think its kinda dangerous doing that you know? being a um.. a superhero? why are people even so into them nowadays?” you say hesitatingly “ugh you are such a buzz kill, anyways Todd and Marty invited us to hangout… in Atomic Comics…” she looks like she’s about to ask a question, but she hesitates “go on.. continue” you gesture her to reply “why are you like.. i don’t know avoiding Dave? we’ve all kind of noticed that you know and the tension is killing all of us..”

you close the locker door and bring her to an empty classroom, you say “okay i know this sounds a bit crazy but DAVE IS KICKASS.” she “pffts” at your statement then turns to look at your face again, “oh.. your being serious” she says “YES I’M BEING SERIOUS?? i was on my way to the convenience store right and Kickass or Dave- i don’t know anymore was trying to save this cat then falls from this thing- anyways he walked in the alleyway so i was like ok i’ll just follow him! what could possibly happen!? then he took off his MASK SO THEN I RAN AWAY AND HE WAS LIKE ‘wait!🤪’ BUT I KEPT ON-” Melilah tries to comprehend everything, slowly nodding… slowly.. she whispers loudly “OKAY KEEP IT DOWN SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU, okay so are you SURE this was Dave?” still whispering

“a HUNDRED percent.” you say trying to defend that you weren’t just seeing things

she sighs “well what are we going to do? I already told them we were going to be there..”

“you said WHAT?”

“okay okay chill they didn’t say Dave was coming, they obviously noticed how awkward it was with you guys so why would they invite him right haha.. haha…..” she laughs nervously

after both of you gather your thoughts you find yourself already settling down in a booth, in Atomic Comics, contemplating your life decisions. fidgeting nervously already imagining what’s going to happen. hoping not to see him. Melilah comes back after gathering a bunch of comic books to read while waiting for them to arrive. “hey stop fidgeting your going to be fine, plus he doesn’t know you know. right…?” you both just stare at each other. you both start praying in unison—“lord give us the strength to-“

“give you guys the strength for what?” Todd interrupts, you look behind him frantically to check whether Dave was there or not. to your surprise, he wasn’t. does he know? did he see my face when i ran? what if he doesn’t like me anymore? wait. why did that even matter? Todd and Marty took a seat beside Melilah leaving you alone sitting at the other side of the booth, obviously planning something.. “guys what do you think of Kickass?” Melilah asks, you kick her leg from under the table making a face screaming WHYAREYOUBRINGINGHIMUP. in fairness the both of you didn’t know whether Todd and Marty knew about it too, you shoot a glance at her giving a ohhhhiunderstandnow look to what she’s doing (spoiler alert: you've got the wrong idea, she was in fact not helping you) “i think he’s fine i guess, to be honest Red Mist is way cooler though because of his cape and all..” Marty says with Todd nodding his head to show that he agrees

“well- for one i think Kickass is wayy cuter, i’d fuck his brains out if i got the chance.” you say out of your thoughts completely regretting saying the said statement- “Really?” Dave says out of nowhere observing the conversation from behind your booth, making you jolt “y/n that just came out of nowhere what in the world.” Melilah says right after staring at you for a few seconds while Dave is making eye contact with you, smirking like he knows something. the conversation falls quiet.. real quiet… “okay wrap it up you two.” Todd interrupts, i wonder what happens next?

a/n: and the rest is history, I hope this was good enough lolol hope you enjoyed reading! (pt. 2 coming soon)

[quietblueriver]

Did I write an AU based on a McDonald's commercial? Somehow, yes. I...I don't even know, y'all. But here's a hopefully fun, fluffy thing.

*

Ava watches Beatrice walk into the McDonald’s, pristine gray and yellow polo tucked into ironed black pants, and thinks for about the thousandth time that nobody should be able to make a fast-food uniform look that fucking good.

“Yo, Silva,” a pen hits her helmet and falls to the concrete next to her. She doesn’t look but stretches her arm out behind her and flips the bird in the general direction of the voice. “Fuck off, JC.”

“Rude. Stop staring at your girlfriend and get back over here.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” The response is rote at this point, because he makes some comment every fucking time they hang out here (and, yeah, sure, that’s because every fucking time they hang out here Ava stares at Beatrice or talks about Beatrice or daydreams about Beatrice but whatever) but she still winces at herself because she sounds like she’s five and also because she would rather not have to say Beatrice isn’t her girlfriend.

Reaching down to retrieve the pen, which is one he’d stolen from her earlier anyway, the dickhead, she turns back to him and says, “Go home, JC. I’m done for the day.”

“Aw, Ava, c’mon. We just got here.” It’s whiny and Ava’s the smallest bit endeared, as always, because he’s charming and guileless and really actually wants to spend time with her, even after she dumped him pretty unceremoniously when her interest in him flamed out about three weeks into their sort-of relationship. He’s giving her puppy-dog eyes and she rolls her own because he’s absolutely ridiculous. “We’ve been here for two hours, JC. You have study group with Zori soon anyway.”

He looks like he’s going to protest, but Chanel steps in. “Let’s go, doofus.” She wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls and Ava smiles at her gratefully until she says, smirking, “Ava has to go make pathetic heart eyes at the pretty girl over an ice cream cone she doesn’t want.” “Hey, I always want ice cream.” It’s…not a great comeback, and she knows it, sighs when Chanel laughs loudly and turns to walk away with JC, a totally rude, “Yeah right,” serving as her goodbye. Ava’s undoing the strap of her helmet when Chanel nearly yells, still walking toward the bus stop, “Ask her out, you idiot!” Ava flinches and looks toward the entrance of the store, but nobody is there to hear the call-out.

Also, though, she’s totally going to do it. She’s going to ask Beatrice out. Today. Right now. Because she wants to and has wanted to for like six fucking weeks and because on Friday some girl, some stupidly hot girl, had been leaning over the counter and touching her and Beatrice had blushed and Ava had squeezed a ketchup packet so hard she’d ruined JC’s white tee and damaged her own dignity pretty badly in front of Mary and Lilith, who is terrifying and who had looked at her like a fucking Orca who had found a bunch of baby seals to snack on. Literally the only thing that had made the night okay was Camila, an absolute saint, texting Ava later to tell her Beatrice wasn’t going out with the girl even though she’d really tried but “Ava get it together already because she’s not going to wait forever and she shouldn’t! She’s great!” She is. Cam’s right. So. Yeah. It’s time.

Ava runs a hand through her hair and trades her helmet for her favorite cap, putting it on backward and clipping her helmet to her messenger. She takes stock. She’s wearing denim shorts and a black crop-top underneath one of her favorite button-downs, black and covered in colorful shapes. Her right knee is scabbed over from a fall last week and there’s a hole forming at the big toe of one of her black-and-white checked Vans. She wiggles her toe and sees the threads move, the tip of her lime green sock poking through. She looks like herself. She looks good.

She pushes her shoulders back and walks out of the park and into the parking lot, board in hand. It’s a Monday afternoon and school hasn’t let out yet, so when Ava walks in, dropping her board into the little stand by the door, hardly anyone is there. She sees a very stressed woman with three small children by the indoor playground and a dude messing with his phone and eating fries in the corner and that’s it. It’s great, because it means Ava won’t feel bad about trying to keep Beatrice talking to her for as long as possible (she really, really has it bad) but it’s shit because it means she has no buffer time.

And yep, she’s almost immediately greeted with an amused, “Hello, Ava.” Leaning against the drink station and looking like she’s about to have a really good time is Mary. Ava sighs and smiles, waves a little and fortifies herself for the shit she’s about to take. At least Lilith isn’t on today.

For reasons she isn’t totally clear on but thinks boil down to “queer fam helps queer fam get jobs,” this McDonald’s is staffed by like half of her History of Medieval Spain seminar. She’d felt like she was in a very realistic and mundane dream two weeks into the semester when she’d walked in from the new skate park to get an ice cream cone and been served by the hottie with color-coordinated notes who sat next to her on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:30 to 11am while the also hot but absolutely terrifying woman who sat across from her glaring at everyone filled fry containers and the smoke show who sat next to her manned the drive-in. (How her History of Medieval Spain seminar came to be fucking stacked with hot queer women is less of a mystery—Professor Suzanne “step on my throat” Superion draws a very particular kind of student and Ava couldn’t be happier to fall into that category.)

Mary makes a tv-gameshow-style motion at the soda machine behind her, as if offering a prize. “Thirsty?” She’s so fucking smug, and she’s also depressingly right, which makes it way worse. Ava looks at the children now snacking at the table with their keeper and resists the urge to flip Mary off, sticking her tongue out instead because she’s very mature.

Before Mary can respond, they’re interrupted. “Hello, Ava.” Ava smiles automatically, turns in the direction of the voice so fast she’s at risk of whiplash and blurts, loudly, “Hi Bea!” She bounds over to the counter and leans against it, palms pressed flat and body tilting forward. It’s a genuinely innocent act; she just wants to be closer to Beatrice, who’s standing behind the register. But she watches Bea’s eyes drift down and then guiltily snap back up and she knows that the position combined with her top also does great things for her tits. She preens a little, self-confidence growing, and says, “How’s my favorite ice-cream-magician-slash-Religious Studies-major today?”

It’s a lot, but whatever—she’s way past pretending she’s anything other than a lot and anyone who has an issue can go find less. And anyway, it gets exactly the reaction she wants: Beatrice’s cheeks tinge pink at her enthusiasm, a small, pleased smile appearing on her face like it does nearly every time Ava says something even remotely complimentary. It’s a little weird, because in class Beatrice is like, model student who knows it. She always pays attention and makes points so good that Superion writes them on the board and operates with a general level of confidence that does embarrassing things to Ava. Outside of class, though, Beatrice kind of folds into herself. It seems almost like she isn’t used to people seeing her, remembering her, being glad she’s there, and Ava thinks that’s fucking wild and absolutely wrong.

Beatrice deserves someone who will be loud about her. She thinks of the girl from Friday, with her beautiful cheekbones and her wandering hands, and of Beatrice’s blush, the one Ava did not appreciate seeing directed at someone else even if she was, in the better parts of herself, very glad to see Beatrice getting the attention she deserves. And, yes, totally, Beatrice deserves all of the attention but she wants to be the one who gets Beatrice’s attention. And she wants to be the one who gets to be loud about Beatrice in a respectfully possessive way. If Beatrice is down, of course. The girl in question is still smiling at her, and Ava’s body leans even further forward on instinct, drawn to the stupidly perfect human in front of her. Her palms catch her weight, her feet lifting slightly from the ground. Beatrice’s eyes don’t wander again, sadly, but her head tilts in this way that Ava thinks indicates affection, and she’ll take that, for sure.

Bea’s voice is teasing as she asks, “Do you know a lot of Religious Studies majors?”

Ava grins at her, grins bigger when Beatrice angles just slightly closer, which Ava might think was an unconscious move if Beatrice weren’t maybe the most intentional person on the planet (there are at least four colors in her highlighter system and Ava’s 95% sure she irons her t-shirts). “Nope. But I don’t need to to know that you’re my favorite and the best.”

Mary says, loudly, “I’m going on break.” She passes by them and adds, enjoying herself way too much, “Beatrice, I was just asking Ava here about a drink. I’m sure you can also see she’s incredibly thirsty. Must be the skateboarding.”

Ava glances at the kids, still working through a pile of french fries, and puts her feet back on the ground, angling her body against the register so that she can flip Mary off and keep it shielded from tiny human eyes and from Beatrice. She wants to tell her to lick rust. She says, instead, “Thanks so much for your concern.” Mary keeps her shit-eating grin and saunters outside.

When she turns back to the counter, Beatrice is looking over the register at Ava’s hand in amusement and okay so Ava apparently hadn’t hidden her finger as well as she’d thought but at least Bea seems to think it’s funny instead of off-putting. She had once admonished Ava, totally unironically, when Ava had let fly an admittedly impressive string of curses after realizing she left her coffee sitting on a table in the student union. The tone of that ”Language, Ava” had made Ava’s stomach drop in a very unexpected and pleasant way.

“The usual?” Her eyes are really fucking pretty.

“Yep. Yeah. Please.” As Beatrice turns to grab a cone Ava gets her shit together. Right. Yes. Go. “Actually, Bea.” She turns back holding a cone and smiles, eyebrow raised in question as she waits, and Ava wants to kiss her. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? In, like, a date way?”

Her smile is gone then and she’s blinking slowly and oh shit, did Ava mess up? Was Bea not interested? Was Bea not gay? There’s no way Beatrice hadn’t noticed her flirting because she had literally never been subtle and also Bea had just been staring at her boobs and talked to Ava and smiled at Ava and blushed at Ava more than anyone else? Or anyone else Ava had ever seen. And Cam said! And Mary wasn’t mean enough to let her make an ass of herself, right? Not like this. Lilith, maybe, but…

Ava has become distracted, staring at the kid’s meal toy display to Bea’s right as she spirals, and when she looks back, Beatrice’s mouth is twitching and her eyes are bright with amusement, and oh, shit. “Um,” she tries to run a hand through her hair and hits her hat. Smooth. “So, exactly how much of that did I say out loud?”

“I apologize for so obviously staring at your chest earlier.” Her tone is at least half genuinely apologetic but the rest of it is amused? Delighted? Something in that range and definitely at Ava’s expense and that’s fair given the gay panic monologue she’d apparently just spouted at her crush in her place of work.

“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles as she tilts her head back and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. After a breath she forces herself to look at Beatrice, who is fully smiling now. She throws the cone away and steps toward Ava again and then her hand is on Ava’s forearm, which she had crossed with the other over her chest in what was a totally ineffective attempt at self-preservation. Hard when the attack is coming from your own fucking mouth. Beatrice’s hand is warm and her fingers are calloused and Ava short circuits (whatever fucking circuits are left) at the contact, staring in disbelief until Beatrice says softly, still amused, “I would love to go out with you sometime.”

“Yeah?” It’s the most she can manage. The fingers over her arm squeeze just slightly and Ava knows if Bea pushed even a little bit she’d fall right fucking over. “Yes.” Warm brown eyes meet hers as she takes her hand back. Ava misses the contact immediately.

“Cool. Um, maybe Thursday? Dinner?” Bea doesn’t usually work Thursdays and Ava’s shift at the gym near campus ends at 3pm so she’ll have time to go home and shower and lose it a bit over what to wear but not so much time that she’ll be able to talk herself into a full panic.

“Thursday works perfectly.” Ava pulls her messenger around and rummages for her phone, pulling it out and handing it to Bea. Based on what she knows from class and a lot of longing stares, Beatrice keeps all her stuff as neat and tidy as she keeps her uniform. So, she’s pretty sure her own phone is something out of Bea’s nightmares. One corner of the screen is shattered and scratches dot the rest while the back, an ice blue color Ava really likes, is covered in spidery lines from way too many drops and impacts suffered in Ava’s pocket at the park. Still, she can’t be fucked to get a case because it’s pretty and sleek and smooth(ish, at this point). Beatrice’s lips purse slightly but she says nothing, taking it, entering her number, and calling herself before handing it back. She removes her own phone, in its pristine black case, and immediately creates a new contact.

A group of teenagers comes through the door, loudly, followed closely by Mary, and Ava watches as Beatrice sets her shoulders. It’s very cute. Ava is going to date her. Incredible. “I’ll text you.”

Her smile breaks and her face is suddenly concerned. Ava’s nervous until: “Your ice cream. I completely forgot.”

Ava grins and waves her phone, nearly drops it and is stupidly charmed by the little flinch from Beatrice at the fumble. “Got something way sweeter.”

Beatrice shakes her head and half hides a smile, cheeks pink. Ava’s feeling very proud when she hears a loud groan from Mary, who’s stepping behind the counter again. “Absolutely not, Silva. Get out of here with that.”

Ava smiles at Beatrice one last time before basically skipping out, grabbing her board. She almost eats it three separate times because she’s so distracted on the way home, but she’s not even a little mad about it.

It’s both awesome and kind of torture to see Bea the next morning in class. They sit next to each other, like always, and Ava manages to keep it mostly together, flirting only slightly more than usual and letting her knee press into Bea’s below the table for most of class, the barely-there red under her freckles the only sign she’s even aware of the contact. She works an extra shift on Wednesday because she wants that date money and JC could give a shit about giving it up, only works because his parents make him even though they give him a shit-ton of spending money anyway.

It’s a bummer not to see Bea but she’s also texting her kind of non-stop. She started Tuesday night when she got home:

What’s Dracula’s favorite ice cream?

She didn’t expect a fast response, imagined Bea was busy with the flood of students and families who came in after work and school, so she was a little surprised to see Bea’s name pop up twenty minutes later: Blood orange?

Have you had blood orange ice cream?

No, but I am sure it exists. Not the answer then?

A good guess but no. It’s…

Vein-illa

Three eye roll emojis. And then a truly terrible joke about snails. It had gone on from there, intermittent jokes and also little snippets of actual conversation. It’s still happening Wednesday night as Ava gets ready for bed. She settles and then nearly hurls herself out of bed in excitement when she reads Bea’s latest text: Goodnight, Ava. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. From most people, it wouldn't be much, might even be discouraging. Ava knows Beatrice well enough at this point to know that from her, it might as well be fifteen firework emojis and twenty-seven exclamation points. She doesn’t bother to play it cool, as fucking if she would do anything other than encourage way more of that, and sends back immediately: Night, Bea. Me too. Really really. Along with three mutlicolored hearts.

She knows something is wrong the next morning when she gets to class because Beatrice is waiting outside of the classroom staring at her shoes and gripping the straps of her backpack (both over her shoulders, tightened evenly) as if they’ve personally offended her. When Ava gets close, Bea looks up and smiles unevenly and says, “I’m so sorry, Ava. I can’t go tonight. Lilith got the flu and I have to cover her shift.”

It sucks, of course, but Bea’s looking at her like she’s done something unforgivable, like she’s waiting for Ava to tell her off. Not for the first time, Ava wonders where exactly Bea comes from and what kind of shitheads she’s used to. She walks closer, slowly, smiles as gently as she can and takes a risk, reaching forward to tuck an escaped strand of Bea’s hair behind her ear and letting her hand skim Bea’s jaw as she pulls back. Bea’s eyes are big and her face is more relaxed, even if she does look a little confused and her hands are still white-knuckling the straps of her bag.

She keeps it simple, pretty sure Beatrice needs it. “Wanna try for this weekend instead?”

A few people file past them into the room and Ava knows they need to go sit or incur the wrath of Superion, whose anger is hotter in theory than in practice. She takes another chance, reaches up to tug at Bea’s left hand and laces their fingers. When Beatrice allows it, flexes her fingers lightly between Ava’s, Ava pulls them into the classroom, smiling a little at Bea’s still-wide eyes. She appears to have come back to herself by the time they reach their seats, squeezing Ava’s hand in an intentional way before taking off her backpack and settling in. As Superion gathers her notes, Beatrice leans closer, pressing her knee into Ava’s as she says quietly, “How does Saturday night work for you?” Ava beams.

Saturday morning she ends up, surprise surprise, at the skate park with JC, riding a little aimlessly and doing some reading for her Russian Lit class while he dicks around in the bowl. When he dips after a few hours, elbowing her just a little too hard as he tells her to have fun with Beatrice that night, Ava smiles like an idiot while he laughs.

Her stomach rumbles around noon and as she eyes the empty drive-thru, she makes a plan. Yeah, okay, so she’s gonna see Beatrice tonight but she wants to see her now and she’s right there and also, Ava’s legit hungry and it’s not even busy. So. She’s gonna get a fucking cheeseburger.

When she pays, Camila grins and Ava shrugs one shoulder as she says, “Cute, Ava.” When she rolls up to the window, Beatrice blinks in surprise and then shakes her head a little and the edges of her mouth tick up. “We’re not supposed to let you order on foot you know.”

Ava takes the burger and pops her board conspicuously. “Four wheels, baby. Totally counts as a vehicle.”

“Pathetic, Silva!” Mary calls over Bea’s shoulder and Ava shrugs again, winking at Bea before she rides off.

It takes her no time to finish the burger, and there are still no cars in the line, so she finds herself ordering fries, smiling at Camila as she laughs and bracing her arms on the window as Beatrice gets her order, her cheeks a shade darker this time around. Ava tips her helmet at Bea and says, as she takes her snack, “I only have fries for you.”

“Get out of here immediately with that.” Mary’s closer this time, swats at Ava from around Bea’s back, but the look on Bea’s face is open and affectionate and she’s so fucking handsome and Ava wants more of it. A lot more of it.

It takes slightly longer to finish the fries but luck is on her side because it’s still slow when she does, so she rolls through yet again. When Beatrice hands her the coffee, both eyebrows raised but still blushing, Ava says, easy, “I got thirsty.”

“You’ve been thirsty, Silva. Go away.” There’s no bite to it, and Mary doesn’t swat at her this time, just turns and walks toward the fryers shaking her head. Turning her attention back to Bea, Ava fidgets a little as she asks, “See you soon?” Bea bites her bottom lip and nods and Ava thanks bisexual Jesus that she only nearly face plants on her way down the drive.

It gets busy, of course, so Ava parks it outside and finishes her coffee and reads. She’s getting ready to go change for her date date date when she hears, “Ma’am. Your ice cream.” Ava’s up in a second, delighted as Beatrice holds the cone out to her and ducks her head. Ava can’t help but stare as she takes it, feels some drip down onto her hand. Beatrice’s hair is down, over one shoulder, and the sun is setting and wow .

“Your cone is going to melt.” Beatrice is looking at her now, a little flustered. “I might, too, if you keep looking at me like that.” Ava takes her hand, carefully but with more confidence than she had earlier that week, and offers, “Walk you to the bus stop? I know it’s traditional to walk someone home after a date but like, I can do before, too, right?” Beatrice brings their bodies slightly closer together as they start toward the sidewalk. “I’d like that."

[heartmaddie]

charm | t.oikawa - 07 juna

by m454d1e involves past relationship trauma somewhaat

yn’s sitting at the oak table, feeding herself scoops of miscellaneous cereals as her roommates look over at her, various perplexed faces on each of them.

“so oikawa’s coming over?” kei looks over at osamu skeptically, “i mean i don’t mind but it’s just a bit of a drastic change in opinion.”

“i don’t think oikawa’s that bad, really.” keiji shrugs, “nice guy, a bit violent but i think it was an appropriate time”

“guys, he’s just gonna be over to work on the project, it’s not like we’re gonna actually have a meaningful conversation.” yn explains, leaning on the back of her chair. she lets out a deep sigh as she sips on some juice, “he’ll be over from 1:30 to the evening or something, you wont even see him.”

“yeah, it’s fine then. i’ll be at uni the whole time” kiyoko nods, “i’ll be in the textile studios from around 12-4 really, so i’ll be home for dinner.. is he going to have dinner with us?” she asks yn, who shrugs.

“dunno, he might.” 

“well i’ll be in the apartment all day, so if anything happens or if he does anything then just let me know, okay?” osamu looked sideways at yn, sighing softly.

“i think we’ll be okay.”

“dunno yn, just being careful is better.” keiji nods in response, looking over at kei.

“we’re adults, i’m sure that yn knows what she’s doing.”

“thank you kei” yn replies, sipping on some more juice, and that was their breakfast conversation over.

her lectures dragged on all day, the minutes passing by slower every second, every moment blurred into one until she’s sitting outside on one of the benches, eyes closed before she hears a familiar chirpy voice.

“ynn, are you ready to head off?” tooru asks, offering her a hand which she takes gratefully, letting him pull her right back to her feet.

“yeah, we can go now.”

they walk hand in hand, earning a couple weird glances from other students as they walked in silence. she looked exhausted, and tooru couldn’t help but worry, so he would tug her a little closer every now and then, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she directed them towards her dorm. 

tooru was surprised, it was much tidier than the apartment he shared with his roommates, but then again, she lived with akaashi and kiyoko, who were pretty good when it came to organisation.

“these rooms are so much better than the sports dorms” tooru complains, slipping off his shoes and neatly leaving them next to yns.

“mm, yeah i guess. the rent here is more expensive than in the sports dorms, also aren’t you on a scholarship like tobio?” yn asked, looking up at him curiously.

“yeah, i’m on a half scholarship, so i still pay for my dorm fees.” oikawa sighs, walking with her throughout the apartment as he looks around in astonishment.

“do you want water or anything?” she asks, pouring a glass with some ice tossed inside and passing it towards him, receiving a small ‘thank you’ in return.

“who else are your roommates besides kiyoko and akaashi?” he asks curiously, bringing up the cool glass to his pink lips,

“uhm, osamu and kei”

“kei as in karasuno, kei tsukishima?”

“yeah” she nods in reply, 

“i don’t like him.” oikawa states firmly, causing her to chuckle.

“mm, i see that, i think that at face value he’s a bit awkward and arrogant, but he’s very caring once you get to know him” she nods, thinking about tsukishima. oikawa laughs as well, taking another sip,

“we should probably start our project, are we going to your room or something?” she nods and pulls him towards her bedroom. 

it’s neat, but obviously lived in. with a twin sized bed against the wall with white sheets somewhat done and a large desk with stacks of paper on the ends of it. he sits on the grey carpet, putting his messenger bag next to him and reaching for his laptop. tooru rests his back against the bedframe as he accesses the document, she sits next to him and does the same thing.

“so i did some of the work last week, and i think that we’ve mainly finished our research and can start drafting our abstract.” yn nods, picking at the skin at her cuticle, “have you chosen a question?” tooru nods and explains it to her, gently taking her hand in his. yn feels an unfamiliar warmth form in her stomach as she looks up at him, his sharp jaw as he reads off his document, and he doesn’t realise her gaze until he looks back at her.

“what? is there something on my face?” he asks, bringing his other palm to quickly wipe against his lower face, making her smile from his obliviousness.

“no, it’s nothing. but the question sounds good” she hums, leaning over his shoulder to tweak some parts.

a couple half hours later, yn’s sitting on her bed with tooru working on the ground still, stretching occasionally as he could feel it in his back now.

“if you’re uncomfortable you can come sit up here.” she hums mindlessly, so he finds himself climbing up next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder as he continues to type away on his laptop. over the hour they find themselves shifting closer, to the point where their laptops are forgotten on the ground and tooru has his arm lazily draped across her waist as they lie close, but not enough.

“are you feeling better?” he asks her softly, using his other hand to gently card through her hair as she gazed up at the white ceiling.

“yeah, i guess so” she mumbles in response, turning to look up at him, a somewhat soft gaze in her eyes, causing tooru to smile down at her. “i don’t know tooru, you make me feel safe in a way” she explains, looking down at his fingers, “like, i can tell you things that i’d usually be a bit hesitant to tell my friends, or anything,”

 tooru hums in response, seemingly in deep thought.

“i’m happy that you trust me,” he strokes her jaw, looking into her eyes, “i really like you, yn” he murmurs so quietly, you’d have to be really listening to hear it.

it’s this strange, comforting feeling. yn wants nothing more but to bask in it, and let tooru into her life fully, but there’s something holding her back. that small, dwindling feeling which told her that it would end up the same. semi follows her everywhere, from the music she listens to, the the posters in her bedroom, to the way her friends would look at her, he’s always there. but this, being in tooru’s arms, that was her sanctuary, that was the only place that semi couldn’t reach, and she wanted to keep it that way. but tooru, ever observant, would pull it out of her eventually.

“you look like you’re thinking about something” he smiles, poking his finger against he cheek, “what’s on your mind?”

“mm, it’s stupid” she replies,

“don’t care, i’d wanna hear anything you have to say.” yn sighs gently, leaning against his chest a bit more.

“i’m just a bit scared, i guess.” she starts, “i like you too tooru, but it’s scary, letting myself be intimate again.” she admits, “i’m embarrassed.”

“you shouldn’t be embarrassed, yn.” he mumbles into her hair, “what you went through is really damaging and honestly, even wanting to try is courageous, in my opinion.” oikawa sighs, pulling her closer, “and anyways, i’d wait for you, a long time.”

she looks up at him, surprise and curiosity written all over her face.

“you’d take it slow with me?” she asks,

“yeah, i would” he replies quickly, “i’d take it as slow as you’d want.”

yn felt the walls that she’d spent years building slowly fall with every word he’d whisper lovingly to her. the warmth and comfort he provided, it was different, it came naturally to her like a second nature, yn would look up at him, analysing his words, and she didn’t want to, but she believed him, he drew her in. she didn’t think she’d fall victim to oikawa tooru’s charms, but here she was. wrapped up in his arms, soaking his affection as she laid still in his arms. she thinks that she’s never felt more complete than this.

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please make sure to like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed!

౨ৎ long chapter i'm quite proud of this.

౨ৎ perhaps they confessed too quickly but realistically i don't care

౨ৎ i like this chapter

౨ৎ i also liked the iwaizumi drabble i posted i'm quite fond of it.

౨ৎ i need to expand my vocabulary and spelling ASAP

౨ৎ like it's sooo bad holy moly.

౨ৎ anyways hope u love and enjoy

౨ৎ also there will probably be no charm chapters from tuesday onwards kinda besides queued posts because erm i have an assignment i've had the past 6 weeks to do and i've only written my abtract fml.

౨ৎ realistically the schedule is sunday , tuesday , friday night. prolly not tho.

౨ৎ maybe i'll post a oneshot sometime between that but we'll see cos i'm super busy assessment wise..

taglist : @meosq , @jtaimeurmom , @strawbeariesei , @meeeepsworld if you'd like to join - don't be afraid to ask ! queued post

[one-fin-wonder]

Can I have the boys reaction to someone info-dumping to them?

A/N: Yes Anon, you sure as heck can. I really enjoy info dumping on my friends so this is right up my alley. I hope this is what you were hoping for! :D

Warnings: I used my poor duolingo skills and limited Spanish knowledge to write the Spanish, there only a few but the grammar may off, I am so sorry for it in advance but there is translations to what I intended to say. not beta read / I’m too dyslexic for my own good, and fluff? I’m a hopeless romantic man. What do you want from me. 

Word count: 1090

Steven Grant:

It all started when Steven asked you about your day as he walked through the door. He set down his messenger bag and turned towards you. It was too late, the waterfall of words already was released. 

You began explaining how you dived deeply into your hyperfixation (or specific subject you would be info dumping about)

You smiled wide as you explained, and his heart melted at the sight of you.

are you the type of person that stims when you get excited? (I shore am) Steven will smile if you begin to stim happily while explaining. 

He loves knowing that you are so excited that you can’t contain the energy, you have to physically let the happiness out 

He simply smiled as he sat down next to you. He nodded and began asking clarifying questions.

“So, what you’re saying is…” “Theoretically then…” “Wait! That means…*He connects to another concept to allow you both to be engaged*”

He’ll wraps his arms around you if you’ll let him, holding onto you as you speak about your topic

He will praise your enthusiasm for the topic and vast knowledge. 

“Love, you’re simply a genius.” “I love hearing your view and knowledge” “That’s so fascinating!” 

Steven knows exactly what it’s like to need to explain one specific topic. He knows that feeling, that specific feeling like pasta water boiling over on the stove. 

He holds your hands (with your permission) as you speak, he likes showing you that he’s there with you and listening, it's a gentle reminder.

He feels it's incredibly important for you to be comfortable enough to share these moments of informational rambling. So he tries his best to show you he’s interested, he hears you and that you are loved. 

Marc Spector:

He is very caught off guard

Once he knows you aren’t upset or in distress he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before nodding and listening

He tosses his keys to the side as he nods listening to you

Marc doesn’t know fully how to react but he likes to hear your voice. The excitement and sincerity in your voice as you speak makes him smile, just a little. 

Marc makes his way over to you finally after he completes his after work routine

Like Steven I think Marc would wrap his arms around you but he wouldn’t know much more than that to show he cares about your information

He does though, He loves you, and he wants to see you happy. He simply doesn’t do emotions well. 

(My poor emotionally unavailable boy. He just needs a hug.)

He silently listens and only replies when you ask him if he follows, 

Finally once you’re done you look at him with a small little sigh and smile and he melts. 

You see it in his eyes and the stern expression he always has just softens. 

you can tell how much he loves you in this moment, the pure love just radiating, but he won’t say it. He won’t explain the feeling he is experiencing. 

But he loves you and you don’t necessarily need the words that he struggles to say, because it’s obvious in his actions. 

and god, the feeling is mutual.

Jake Lockley:

this man has no fucking clue what you are rambling about

He will freeze in the doorway of the small apartment, hand still on the doorknob. He’s so confused and you’re talking a mile an hour in an excited tone. He cannot understand you at this moment. 

Once Jake gets to you he will take his gloves off, stuff them in his pocket and put his hands on your shoulders (or a more comfortable spot if this can trigger you like it does me. Essentially he wants to ground you.) 

“Mi amor, por favor, slow down. No comprendo.” ("My love, Please, Slow down I don't understand")

Or alternatively, he May think something’s wrong with how excited and rushing towards him you are. He puts a hand on your arm and looks around the apartment then back at you. “Que pasa?? Está bien???” ("What's wrong?? Are you okay???")

He would then notice your smile and beaming expression and relax a little “Dios mío,” ("oh my god")you gave this Poor man a heart attack but he loves you all the same. 

he will listen but he will make you repeat yourself again

But it’s only because he cares so much. He wants to understand, so if it takes him several times to understand he will put that effort in.

He nods a lot, especially when it finally clicks in his little murderous, spanish, brain.

When he asks a clarifying question he always ends it with “yeah?” Ex: “so when you say the sun is a star you mean like that fucking ball in the sky, yeah?” 

He sits next to you, his arms on his knees as he hunches over listening. He doesn’t look at you he’s looking most likely at the floor or the wall as he focuses on your words. 

He tries really hard to make you feel heard but he legit makes that grumpy Spanish man expression the entire time. But you know this is just how he is, he loves you, he really does. 

This man keeps a little notebook, like those ones for detectives that fit in pockets. He keeps one of those in his jacket pocket and writes down facts he wants to remember about your favorite topics. He is like a dad who is trying to keep up with the trends. 

Not that he would let you necessarily see said notebook, he keeps it hidden in the inside pocket with a small pen or golf pencil in the spiral of the notepad. 

He pats your knee like a dad too, to show you he’s there. He’s present with you. It’s subtle but it’s his own way of letting you know he’s trying to understand. 

He would move heaven and earth for you, he loves your intelligence, your insight, he loves you. All of you, no matter your flaws, perfections, your needs. 

So if being heard is what you need in this moment you know damn well he will give you everything he can to make it happen.