#did I only realize this after painting my own nails red and going haha it looks like I have blood in my cuticals wait..ooohh

[beetlesanbutterflies]

Just realized, Lisa starts painting her nails red to help hide the blood under her nails

[hannie-dul-set]

PAIRING. huang renjun x fem! reader. GENRE. high school! au, suggestive. WARNINGS. attempted murder, mentions of blood and self injury, veryy descriptive kissing, mc has a few screws lost, swearing, depictions of unstable behavior. WORD COUNT. 1.8k GENRAL TAGLIST. @danishmiilk @wownajaemin @leejunini @astroboy-lele @unknown5tar @yunoyeol @w0nni3wrld @charm-art @bat-shark-repellant @keemburley @deliciouslyyellow​ (pls dm me to be added/removed!)

NOTE. ah yes, the only two genres: murder and making out. inspired by the dream i mentioned earlier. different events, but same vibe HAHA. disclaimer that no matter how much you hate your academic rival, never ever turn to attempted murder! thank you and enjoy

huang renjun— with all his picture perfect smiles, prim and proper tucked in shirts, a pretty face enough to have you on your knees, and with a perfect gpa to top it all off— was someone you wanted.

wanted six feet under the ground.

“hey, congrats!”

speak of the fucking devil.

“you always do really well,” huang renjun towers over you in front of your desk as you sit down. you look up from the wrinkled certificate that have the abhorrent words second honorable mention printed on it's scented surface, only to face his fucking face instead. he beams at you with a smile. you feel convulsions wringing inside your throat. “congratulations again.”

you don't miss the first honor certificate tucked between his books in a measly attempt of concealment. it takes everything in your power to force out something of a smile.

“thanks. you too.”

with that, he quickly scurries away into his seat next to yours with red ears.

your first period teacher enters, beginning class with a greeting, but your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only midterms, you breathe out through your nose, hugging your arms above your desk while sketching out a study plan for the rest of the semester in your head. there’s enough time before graduation. the hold you had on yourself gradually becomes tighter.

still, you know that even if you worked yourself day and night until you bled cold and crimson, huang renjun would still be one step ahead. you bite down your lip, peeling off the dry skin with a sourness writhing in your gut, digging your fingers deeper into your arms. if only he were gone. you leer at the boy diligently taking his notes beside you. if only he were gone gone gone gone—

your eyes widen, ignoring the blood staining your nails.

if only he were gone.

after class, you walk up to his desk and asked if he wanted to work on the physics homework at his place tomorrow. he says yes with starry eyes in a heartbeat.

the next day, renjun couldn’t wait for the final bell to ring. you, too, couldn’t remain in your seat— albeit for a different reason. so when the ringing occurs, the both of you don’t waste a second in finally heading out of the campus.

it’s a silent walk to his place, a standard suburban neighborhood, the sky slowly turning orange in the background. every time you turn your head to look at him, he looks back with a small smile, and you can’t help your hands from twitching at your sides.

renjun unlocks the door and meekly welcomed you inside.

“you can leave your shoes here,” he says, digging his keys into the back pocket of his school slacks with dangling noises. you look at him, smiling, and with a soft hum you leave your school shoes next to his, trailing behind him into the living room.

looking around, you ask him. “are your parents home?” there was an opening that leads to the kitchen, glass doors showing the backyard. the stairs that lead to the second floor are made of sleek, dark oak. it’s a modern interior. they have a fireplace inside.

“no,” he breathes out, wetting his dry throat with a swallow before turning back to face you. “they’re out on business. i don’t think they’ll be home until the weekend.”

the both of you stop right in front of the staircase.

“i see.”

he quickly muffles a cough and leads you up to his room.

the inside of renjun’s room is neat— organized books on the shelf and sheets neatly pressed. There’s a set of candles beside his bed. you hold back a scoff. as expected from the top student.

your eyes flit over from the window above his bed to look at him, instead.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, you know,” you muse, dropping down your bag to join him on the floor. worksheets littered with numbers and constants, gravity and acceleration, all scatter on the floor. they blow with the wind knowing that they wouldn’t even be filled in, anyway.

“sorry,” renjun sputters out, loosening his striped necktie with two fingers. his vision is kept trained on the wall behind you. “i’m not— i’m not doing it on purpose.”

you adjust your legs on the floor, skirt riding. “is there a reason?”

“a reason?” he gulped.

“why you can’t look me in the eye.”

renjun thinks he sees the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

“i’ll— i’ll go open the window, it’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” scrambling to his feet, his knees sink into the navy sheets of his bed, reaching for the window in a nervous flurry to let the air in. “the news said that the temperature’s slowly gonna start rising but i didn’t think it would be—”

he bumps into you when he turned back.

there’s a click from behind him.

the wind stopped coming in.

“it’s not really that hot.”

the way your breath fanned against his lips makes his head spin in circles.

you have an arm out against the glass, your sleeve’s fabric grazing his tempered cheek when you went to shut the window down. renjun feels a ghost in the air where there’s a space in between you. “i— i guess you’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “i never expected that you’d ask to work together.”

there’s syrup at the end of your sentence. “you seemed pretty happy when i did, though.”

he isn’t sure if it’s just him or if you’re slowly getting closer. “well, that’s— that’s because i—”

“you don’t have to say it.”

your voice digs deep into his bones like chains of velvet. he can feel your chest pressing against him now, crushing the sense of rationality that he was bestowed with from birth and is replaced with a warm lush of rabid, violent waters gushing into bit of him stomach,

it comes off a whisper yet it sends him reeling.

“i know.”

renjun swallows. hard. but he’s afraid you’d hear the manifestations of a tempered restlessness that had managed to crawl its way up to the tips of his fingers— which found themselves resting onto the curve of your back. stray strands of his swair sweeps above his eyes, obscuring the closeness of your face, and he wants to ask how. how did you know that he likes you.

he never got to.

the question doesn’t even get to resurface after the first hit of your cherry flavored chapstick, his bottom lip caught in between yours, teeth grinding against the plush, pink skin. the second hit has his decorum slowly peeling away from his skin when his tongue traces over yours in a hot mess of delirium, when you settle between his legs, a coarse groan vibrating in his throat. the third has him forgetting his own name.

his eyes are hazy when you pull back with a rough smacking of the mouth. with a short-winded voice, you ask him.

“do you mind if i make a call?”

renjun looks at you in a fit of breathlessness.

an airy laugh leaves your lips that he can’t stop staring at. you press a kiss on his nose. “my parents need to know that i won’t be going home tonight.”

dazed, he answers. “y-yeah, sure.”

he blinks a few times before letting you go.

“take your time.”

you send him a smile before fishing your backpack from the floor and leaving the room.

just like that, a switch was flipped.

upon closing the door, you quickly twist the knob, locking it with the keys that you’d snatched from him earlier. it’s convenient that he has each one labelled— a belated thank you to your school’s ever organized golden boy who never fails to make you sick in the stomach.

at each wall you pass, you make sure to seal the windows shut and have all the doors closed. the contents of your bag make steady pangs against your back as you shuttled down the stairs. you lock the back door shut, close all the windows, turn on all the lights, and throw a match into their fireplace, waiting for the fire to come to full bloom. all that’s left is the kitchen.

there’s no time wasted in turning everything on— the microwave, oven, and the stove until you can't crank them any further. embers fly into the air. it’s getting hotter. you duck down to the compartment under the stove to reveal a white painted propane tank, taking out a cordless soldering iron to seal the safety relief valve close. you place a rag over the opening valve and twist it halfway through. a hissing sound whizzes through the air.

with that, you leave through the front door, locking it for good measure. his keys disappear into the bush nearest to their porch.

it’s only a matter of time until huang renjun ceases to be a pest anymore. if not for good, then at least lethally injured.

you head home to finish your physics worksheets that were due tomorrow.

for the first time in god knows how long, you wake up and head to school with a well rested air.

you take your things out of your backpack, humming a soft tune right before the bell rings for your first class. your other seatmate— donghyuck— notices your unusual cheery demeanor, and inquires about its oddities. you simply answer him with an allusion to finally being free. he laughs it off and turns his head to the chalkboard.

five minutes before eight. the doors creak open. you’re ready to stand and greet your teacher until you realize that it isn’t her.

it’s not.

it’s not.

it’s not.

something nauseating knocks into your lungs and stifles your throat, eyes wide and stinging. it squeezes your neck with poison prickling the surface.

huang renjun enters the classroom with his usual nods and smiles to everyone he passes.

“holy shit, dude. you look like hell.”

“i didn’t get any sleep last night,” he laughs, lightheartedly. “guess i’ll have to sleep through recess.”

your teeth grind against your lips, supple skin turning redder at each nip. your nails leave scratches on the desk as you rattle in your seat, thinking, thinking, panicking. each breath feels like choking on pulverized copper in sulfuric air. there’s a ringing in your ears and you hear nothing except your own voice screaming why is he here why is he here why is he here?

he doesn’t go to his desk. he’s standing right in front of you.

“you look well.”

it sears your fingerprints off your skin.

you don’t answer, don’t even look at him. he breaks into a small smile and leans forward, one hand pressed against your desk and the other reaching for a lock of your hair as he nears and nears and nears. “there’s something here,” he says.

there isn’t.

“you left my window unlocked, baby.”

his hot breath hits your cold cheek, tucking a strand behind with a smile. to everyone else, it would look sweet— heart fluttering. to you it was a death sentence. renjun breathes out a contained chuckle into your ear before letting his hand fall on your shoulder, a tight grip at the last second.

“better luck next time.”

© HANNIE-DUL-SET. 2021.

[stressy-enby]

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best. 

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers. 

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success. 

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . . 

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do  you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out. 

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly “Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

[evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn]

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

Chapter 4: A Date With Destiny

Read on AO3 Chapter 1

Word count:  2991

Tw: Food, Almost an innuendo, Fear of not being accepted for orientation

~~~

"I think I'm ready."

Logan looks at himself in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie. He hadn't gone super extra with his 'date' outfit, despite Roman's insistence to go big or go home. (Which wouldn't really matter, as Thomas is home right now, and therefore they wouldn't need to go very far.)

Just a few changes, to treat himself. The blue striped bowtie, obviously, some black dress pants, black socks and a black dress shirt instead of a polo. He also tried out a new shampoo, just for that extra self-care. That may sound like a fairly big change, but Roman looked uncomfortable when he presented the outfit.

Roman waves his hand about, diverting his eyes. "Ugh, whatever. You look great. I still think a full tux would've been a better choice."

"That would most likely be overdressing. I don't want to go into this date looking like a buffoon, now do I?" He retorted, slipping on his dress shoes. They're sleek and black, with a heel that gives him just that extra added height.

"Pfft, coming from the Nerdy Professor! You look like a buffoon all the time, I'm just doing you a favor."

"You don't think I'm ready like this?" Logan asks.

"You do. You're rocking it. No romo." Roman says, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"No... Romo?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. Like... Uh, romantic. I invented it. Just now." Roman says, nervously fiddling with his sash.

"Oh." And if that doesn't feel like a metaphorical stab to the gut, Logan's not sure what it is.

Roman stands for a few seconds in silence, before looking away, into the mirror. "Now, go get your Daisy, Loguigi."

"That was a stretch, but thank you." Logan takes Roman's hand, squeezes it (he's sure Roman won't mind. He may think of it as a reassurance to calm Logan's nerves. Logan thinks of it as he wants to hold Roman's hand), and walks to the door.

"Logan-" Roman says before he can leave, and Logan turns back to him. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and seems to realize that Logan's waiting for him to say something. His hand reaches towards him, then recedes.

"Yes?"

"Good luck." He slumps, giving what seems to be an encouraging smirk. Logan nods, adjusing his bowtie once more, and strutting out of the room. If he had a cape, it would be flowing behind him dramatically, due to the sheer energy of his determination. Tonight is going to be the start of a big change.

"Alright Patton, prepare yourself for the strangest date you'll ever go on." He says in full confidence.

~~~

Patton sat at the dining table, feeling certainly awkward. Things certainly looked... Different. It was dim, mostly because the only light sources were an array of candles and a strand of fairy lights. There was a silky tablecloth thrown over the table, and a lovely bouquet of red roses in a glass vase as the centerpiece. There were also two glasses, and a bottle of red wine. Soft violin music played from an unknown source.

Usually this was something Patton would coo at. He always loved romance between people. Whenever Thomas and his boyfriends over the years hung out, it would be all he'd talk about. How happy he is for them. He'd even help Roman out with helping Thomas in his gestures of romance. It's true, Patton loved romance.

However, not when it was directed at himself.

He didn't want to be rude and leave, obviously. Logan set this up, and the last thing Patton wanted to do was break his heart beyond repair. He loves Logan as a friend, and he cares about him, and the emotions he barely lets himself show.

Patton twiddles with his thumbs, sweating quite a bit. He wonders what Roman has to do with this. He's certainly not also going to be here, unless this is a three-way date. That is unlikely, as there are only two chairs. Perhaps he's the wing-man? That would make sense, as he's much better in the romance category than Logan. But wait a minute, why would he help? Doesn't Roman-

"This is atmospheric." Patton gets pulled out of his thoughts by Logan standing there, looking at the decor. He takes a seat. Pouring himself a glass of the wine, he takes a big sip, before setting it down. "Patton, I have something to tell you."

Oh no.

Patton's sweating buckets now. "B-before you do, I just want to tell you that I respect you Logan, and that you're a very good person, and that I cherish the time we spend together, but I guess I haven't told you some very important information about myself, and I hope this doesn't hurt you too bad, it's that-" He takes a deep breath, about to spill. He's always been scared of this moment. Didn't he already tell Logan? Does he not believe in his identity? Patton opens his mouth to speak.

"You're aromantic. I know that Patton, and I respect that. Your orientation is completely justified and valid. I was going to tell you that this was not my idea. I do not harbor any romantic feelings for you, and I certainly don't expect you to either." Logan says, taking another sip of wine.

"Oh."

Well, that makes Patton feel much better.

"Then... Why are we here?" He asks, the nervous feeling replaced by confusion.

"Well..." Logan blushes as red as the wine. "I happened to be... Discussing my 'lack' of romantic feelings for... a side, which I realised was in fact a falsehood, and then that side happened to swoop in right after I realized, and mistook my presentation for being about you. Therefore, he decided to set us up."

The cogs in Patton's brain start to turn. He's not exactly known to be the brightest of the bunch, but he thinks he can decipher this one.

"Nm...Teh... Oh, it's Roman." He looks at Logan, who lowers his head into his hands.

"Yes. Yes it is." He admits.

"So, he doesn't know." Patton concludes.

"No, no he doesn't."

The words finally settle in, and Patton's face brightens significantly in a matter of milliseconds. "Oh my god! Logan! You like him!" He stands up, and jumps for joy. He twirls around the room a few times, and then pulls up Logan and gives him a hug. "I'm so proud of you kiddo."

"Thank you Patton. It certainly felt strange admitting it." Sighs, hugging him back. They break off soon after.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Patton asks, a little bit worried.

"I don't think I'm quite ready yet." They both sit down. "That's actually why I'm here. I was wondering if we could keep up a sort of facade for a while, until I'm ready to tell Roman. Obviously, we won't make anything official, but I could use your help, as I am not very skilled in this romance business, and we could use fake dates as a sort of counseling session. I could.. Use your help." Logan admits.

Patton is surprised, but delighted. "Oh! Well, thank you for telling me kiddo. I wouldn't mind helping you out." He pats Logan' shoulder encouragingly. "Do you... have a plan?"

"Not yet. I didn't want to start without you, in case I would need to scrap the whole thing." Logan takes another sip of wine.

“That’s absolutely A-okay. I don’t know if I’d be much help today though, cause this roller-coaster ‘date’ has really tired me out!” Patton says. (He’s never quite been put on the spot, and then given a plot twist like that one before. Oh wait, haha, he has.) He needs a bit of a mental break before he does any of that adultery thinking.

Logan looks around the room. “We aren’t on a roller coaster.”

“It’s an expression.” Patton clarifies. He sighs, adjusting himself on the seat. “I forgot that I haven’t come out to Roman yet. Or the others, for that matter.”

“You don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. There’s never a bad reason not to come out.” Logan assures him, finishing his glass of wine. “And if you ever need my help, I will be there to support you in whatever ways I can.”

“Alrighty kiddo.” He smiles, looking to the kitchen.

“Do we have any leftover cookies?”

Patton suddenly looks guilty. “Well… About that.”

“Patton.” Logan’s gaze snaps to him, surprised. “Last time I checked, there were at least five left.”

“It wasn’t just me! Janus had one too!” He pleads, stating his case.

“One? That leaves four.” Logan squints at him. “I wanted at least two more for myself.”

A light in Patton’s brain ignites, and he jumps up. “Oh! What do you say we turn this into a baking ‘date’ then??” He does over exaggerated quotations with his hands on ‘date’.

“Bake ‘date’ it is then.” Logan fixes his bowtie in steely determination, and they both make their way to the kitchen.

~~~

“How did the date go?” Roman asks when Logan returns to his room, a giant fluffy red robe draped over himself, face mask on, and nails in the process of being painted. He’s got some showtunes that Logan doesn’t know the name of playing from a vinyl record player, which is illogical, because he’s pretty sure the musical is modern and that they can’t play voices, but he doesn’t comment.

“It went surprisingly… Well. He told me he may need a few more dates to make a decision.” Logan lies, trying to put anything other than indifference in his voice.

“Oh.” Roman looks taken aback for a second. “That’s great Specs. I’m proud of you.” The shaky hand he was painting swerves off to the side, and nail polish gets all over his finger. He looks at it, sighs, and puts the brush back into the bottle.

“You know, it isn’t a good idea to paint your nails in bed.” Logan sits on the edge, (of his own bed. Strange how Roman didn't just go back to his own room. He’s quite the stark contrast, him and his items bright red in a sensible dull, midnight blue room.) and turns his torso to face him.

“But it’s so much more dramatiiic. Besides, you told me not to touch your desk, and I am a princ- uh, a man of my word.” He laughs a little nervous laugh. “Besides, I can just clean it up with the powers of magic.”

“That’s nice.” Logan says, distracted by Roman’s nails. He’s hiding the hand he messed up. On his non-dominant hand, he has masterfully done nails, red with golden designs, such as a crown on his middle finger, a flower pattern on his pointer, thumb and pinky, and on the ring finger there’s an ‘L’...

Logan gently extends his hand. “Can I see?”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Roman lets him take his hand. Up close he notices that the gold is sparkly. Certainly a touch that is in character.

“What does the ‘L’ stand for?” Logan asks, looking at him.

Roman seems to burst red in the face. “O-Ooh it means ‘Left’. I… Often forget which direction is which, so I put it on my nails to remember. There’s no second meaning behind it or anything. Not at all.” He smiles wide.

Now Logan suspects there may be a second meaning, but he does not comment. “Is it okay for me to see your other hand?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to, I mean, it’s not nearly as good and it isn’t at all finished and I just made a mistake-”

“I didn’t ask if I would want to see it. I asked if you were okay with me seeing it.” Logan cuts his self-deprecating ramble off, assuring him softly. “I won’t look for the imperfections if you don’t want me to.”

“I…” Roman sighs and nods. “Go ahead.”

Logan takes Roman’s right hand gently with his own, and brings it close enough to inspect. It retains the same colors, but even with just the base red layer it looks a little bit less neatly done. The color extends past the cuticle, and you can see little bumps and imprints of things that accidentally touched the nail before it could fully dry. It wasn’t bad, per se, because those things could easily be fixed without removing the entire coating, but it probably seemed pretty bad to Roman when comparing it to his other hand. And then there was the streak, which was unfortunate but can be arranged.

“I can help you with this hand, if you’d like.” He offers, much to Roman’s surprise.

“Sure… But you don’t have to-”

“Preposterous. I want to help, and although I am not a master in the arts and creating designs, I happen to be a master duplicator. I believe Virgil described it as ‘cloning but like without the technology part and shit’. I even remade an exact duplicate of a frankly disgusting and creepy doll for Remus from scratch.”

“Oh.” Roman laughs softly. “Talented.”

“Yes. I am.” Logan says, internally giddy from the compliment. He uncaps the nail polish remover from a very fancy tray, where all the supplies are stationed on. “We just need this for the stain.” He takes a cotton pad, letting go of Roman’s hands to wet it, and recaps the bottle. He retakes Roman’s right hand, and lightly swipes the pad across the smear.

“You smell like baking.” Roman notes, barely over a whisper.

“That makes sense. We did some baking. Mostly me, and he kind of watched until they were ready to decorate.” He places the cotton pad in a little glass junk bowl on the tray.

“Are you sure he’s not just going to use these dates to make him cookies?” He says lightheartedly, tapping his other hand along to the sound of the music.

“Perhaps” Logan laughs a little bit. “Actually, I set aside a bunch for you. They’re in a bag, wrapped in a ribbon. That usually wards off everyone else from eating what’s inside for a few days, but do get to them before the fourth day because that’s often when Remus loses his patience.” He doesn’t admit that it was a spur of the moment decision, and that he felt like a lovesick fool setting aside those for him. He did admit that to Patton though, who chuckled.

“Mmm, thank you. What kind?” Roman asks, as Logan uncaps the red nail polish bottle and starts applying a light coat on each nail to even things out.

“Cranberry and White Chocolate Chip.” Roman’s favorite. That may have also been on purpose.

“Oh.” He says, and that’s where that subject of conversation ends. Logan continues applying the coating, then recaps the bottle.

“Alright, this will need to dry.” Logan guides his hand to a solid resting place. They sit quietly for a moment, only the sound of what he recognizes as Razzle Dazzle playing. It’s quite strange to have music in here. The rows and rows of dark-wood bookshelves, kept neat and clean, seem much brighter like this. His planning cork-board, with strings run around and pictures and notes in a neat order (along with the depressing sight of his calendar), looks less dull. Maybe it’s his mood. Maybe it’s just Roman.

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

Roman scoots over, without moving his drying hand. He leans in closely, looking just above Logan’s eyeline.

“Y-yes?” He squirms as Roman reaches with his dry hand to the top of his head. He shakes Logan’s hair, and he presumes it looks like a mess now.

“Flour.”

“What?” Logan asks, as he returns to sitting like he did before.

“You had flour in your hair. It was bothering me.” Roman informs him, pointing to his head.

“Ah.” They return to their silence.

When Logan determines the perfect time for the polish to dry, he uncaps the glittery gold nail pen. Using the other hand as reference, he copies the designs finger by finger, putting all of his concentration into it.

“And… We’ll put an ‘R’ here... ” He tries his best to copy the font of the swirly ‘L’. It looks pretty good, if he does say so himself. Which he does say out loud.”

“Yeah, it does. Thank you Logan.” He looks up at Roman, who smiles a very shy smile. He suddenly brightens, and jumps up, rattling the tray and scaring Logan. “Aha! I’ve thought of a perfect nickname! Holm Office Photopy Machine! I need to write that down.” He fumbles around, and then summons himself a very used-looking sketchbook. He stays standing on the bed, flipping through pages and then scribbling it down.

“That certainly is long.” Logan adjusts his glasses in surprise.

“Long like my- Sorry that was a strange thought.” Roman makes his things disappear, checks his nails, and then flops back down onto the bed.

“I hate to bother you, but at one point I’m going to have to sleep on here.” He watches as Roman unsticks his face-masked face from the bed in disgust.

“Why did I do that- Oh, yeah, sorry.” Roman gets up, looking guilty, and certainly not as fancy as he did before, fibres from the blankets stuck to his face mask and some of the mask still attached to Logan’s bed. Still, he’s got his stupid smile on his face, and that power stance. He’s…

“Wonderful.” Logan says under his breath as Roman’s turning to leave.

Unfortunately, he heard, and he turns back, confused. “Huh?”

“One earful.”

“Alright.” Roman looks perhaps even more confused, but turns back and sinks out, with a “Buh-bye Specs.”

When he’s out of Logan’s room, he snaps his fingers to rid of the mess (He left the tray there too. The nerve. The gall. He sends it to Roman’s room, and prays that it lands somewhere incredibly inconvenient just for revenge sake. He also keeps the record player, because he could use some music in his life) and prepares for bed.

Step 1: Complete.

~~~

Taglist:

@crossiantgay

[kaetastic]

A TEASE

pairing: Luca Changretta x Shelby!Reader

summary: Times when Y/N tease the Italian with his native language, except, he seems to always (maybe) be stuck in situations he cannot respond. [requested: @supermegapauselouca​ ]

word count: 5.0k (i know haha)

warning: it can get slightly nsfw, handjob, edging, language, a twinge of angst, interruption of a possible smut, fluff ??, barely a mention of shelby

note: i’m sorry that this is out late but thank you so much for your ideas @supermegapauselouca​ ! a true blessing to my luca list. once again, sorry not sorry that i added a twinge of nsfw. i couldn’t help it okay. the man does something to me. also! i’m sorry if i barely mentioned shelby but to add it all up, she’s the cousin of tommy :) (i realized shelby!reader after rereading the request eekk) p.s i do not know italian so please pass for any incorrect translation

An exasperated huff squeezed into the air. The man whose face had been splattered with lines of prominent wrinkles of age, plopped into the frigid seat, shifting from the cooling bites of the leather. On his left side was a much younger man who was dressed in a velvet green suit, pressed without a crease despite the troublesome issue he had fallen hours ago. His hair was thick and luscious of chestnut locks, though ruffled like the peaks of a meringue. Unlike the patently elderly uncle who had sprinkles of dust and cigarette ashes smeared on his strands of hair, the two other men in the room had been of more youthful age than he was.

The wallpaper plastered over the brick walls were smeared over with golden frames of oil paintings that were accompanied by hazy grey of photographs snapped by a camera. Although there was a handful of ones with the mafioso owner of the house sporting a sly smirk either alone or with figures of his family, the office had also been decorated with other business-related pictures. Blurry photos of hands shaking with business partners and the times when they had been successful to claim a port as theirs were framed amongst the plentiful bunch of personal photos. A touch of sentiment as the office resided in his own home. 

“Where’ve you been Luca? I only see your face once a month. Bet you been diggin’ holes that we’ll have to fill back up.” A chuckle fell off the lips of the house owner who sat behind the desk, a toothpick dangling between his fingers. Despite him being in the comforting walls of his home, Luca was still dressed impeccably over the top.

Suit pressed, polished black shoes (one he had dug out from the bottom of his closet), hair sleeked back, and gold onyx rings singing a clink every time he furled his fingers, it would seem as if the man was ready to attend a critical meeting. That was not the case. The Italian didn’t have to, but he was Luca Changretta. Family was not an exception for them to see him in a loose, crumpled white dress shirt.

“The only person that’s doing that’s you, my cousin,” The young man chuckled, shaking his head at the unexpected hurl. “I’ve been hearing a lot about this new woman you’re seeing.”

A huff fell the older man’s lips when the words trickled into his ears, “He’s with someone new every week.” Orlando shot back, eyes gawking at his uncle in disbelief. The old man had just shot bullets. 

“That’s not true!” Orlando semi-pouted. Even though there were endless of evidence to the statement, Orlando had to defend himself. The elderly quirked his bleached eyebrows. If only the accused man had been slightly early, he wouldn’t have been caught deep inside a woman by his uncle. 

“Oh, it’s very much true.” Luca’s eyes shot up to meet his girl. The silver tray in her arm sparkled, alongside with the accompanying coffee pot and three ceramic cups. 

Crossing his arms, Orlando couldn’t help but feel as if everyone was on the other side while he was stranded alone, having to fend for himself, “You too, Y/N?” 

While she gently placed the tray on the wooden table, the smile she wore never wiped off. Orlando was an amusing man, somehow, he would always find himself things to entertain people with. Even if it was a story on how he had to walk across three blocks, half-naked because the previous girl he had slept with had sliced through his suit. Orlando had an ability to cheer up the mood in a tensed room. As she poured the coffee she had made into the mugs, the elderly man quirked up a question, “Y/N, isn’t it a gypsy holiday today?”

“I’m not sure, Zio,” She darted a glance at the man before she proceeded with the next cup. “I haven’t bothered to remember.” 

“Zio,” Orlando practically whined, not liking the ambience his uncle had just yanked out of nowhere. “Y/N isn’t in contact with the Shelby’s, plus she doesn’t do those things no more, right Y/N?” The woman hummed, resting back the coffee pot on the tray.

“I’m sorry if that offended you in some way. With this age, my memory seems to... deteriorate.” The old man mumbled. However, before she had the chance to raise her voice, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her to stand beside the office chair. 

Luca’s lips opened to say something, but his chance was stolen when Orlando’s wandering eyes that could not be tamed screeched over a record player in the corner of the office, “Is that a record player?” The child-like man sprinted across the room, next to the door to inspect the machine. Despite his lustful tendencies, Orlando will always be a kid with his family. 

“Stop playing and sit back down!” His uncle huffed out. “Don’t you have one at home?” 

“Yes, but look at this one!” 

While the two bickered and the old man’s back was turned to them, Luca craned his neck up to face his girl, “You going out somewhere?” Although it had just been a few hours since they have woken up, the outfit she wore seemed suitable to walk through the streets. And if she was, he wouldn’t have to waste a second to inform his men. 

“No. Just felt like wearing a dress,” She replied, fingers fiddling with his hair on his neck. Taking a quick dart at the two guests, she bent down to whisper into his ears, “Also, non indosso niente sotto.” (i’m not wearing anything underneath)

Straightening back up, she pressed down her peacock green dress, smoothing it. The Italian was speculating, but his heart nearly dropped out of his chest when his fingers brushed over her bare ass. Her smooth skin caressed his fingers. Hand still in her dress, he ran his fingers to check her hip. Nothing. Though, with still slight speculation and wanting to tease if what she was saying is true, his frigid metal prickled a pinch in her inner thigh. Y/N flinched, not expecting his finger to be coated by her wetness. Y/N wasn’t wearing anything underneath, “Ho bisogno che tu mi scopi, per favore.” (i need you to fuck me, please).

“Fine then! Let’s talk business.” Luca tugged his hand out, followed by his throat clearing. Gesturing towards the mugs filled with swirls of heat escaping the drinks, he sipped on his own after he discreetly sucked on the wetness coating his index finger. The taste of her was more pleasant than that of the coffee. Orlando plopped back on his seat. Although they were already pulling up sheets of papers, Luca darted his glance at his girl who strayed by the door. Y/N bit on her thumb before whisking away, leaving the men to do their work. The Italian gripped on the side of his table, a staggering exhale fell off his lips. That woman would be the death of him.

A drowsy hum trickled in the tranquil air. The chirping of birds who zoomed past the glass pane dashed to cut the rays of honey sunlight. The sun painted the wooden floor of the house warm yellow with a smear of red, though, it had been faint. As the moon shuddered away from peripherals, its accompany rises up in power, lording over the land with its morning glow. The tint of purple in the sky draped down as if a descending brush, concocting a hanging curtain that poked the roofs of houses. Despite the rise of the sun, those who indulged in the warmth of the bed had still yet to pull themselves away from their blanket. 

“Mhm... Luca...” Y/N wasn’t sure what sound that brushed her lips was. It was in the middle of a moan and a groggy groan, a noise she would make when her beauty sleep was interrupted. The Italian hummed at the call of his name, the vibrating noise in his throat rippled through her bare shoulders. Placing chaste kisses on her shoulders, Luca’s fingers brushed up her thigh to her hip. Although, it was just dragging the tip of his nails to trail up. The corners of his lips curled up when the path he ran over was met with bumps from the faint touch. Always a tease. His loud, wet kisses echoed into the morning, chill air, followed by her gentle, agreeing hums at every action he did. 

Strands of his hair pricked her skin, sending shivers as it caressed her neck. When waking up with the mafioso, it was a sight to see him without the excessive petroleum jelly he would smear all across his scalp. Indeed, it was a sight. A sigh left her lips, fingers clutched around the silk sheets when his hand cupped her heating spot. Despite his fingers pressing onto her dampening spot in her panties, she couldn’t help her mind but revert it to the hard object prodding into her. 

Too lost in the feeling, Y/N gawked at the man who now hovered over her. Luca flipped her onto her back, fingers pinning her hands over her head, his back still draped over with the silk sheets, “Say it, say it...” 

His lips mumbled over hers, nose running down her neck as his lungs took in the scent of the raw morning. Body curving into him, Y/N’s hips pressed onto him once she felt a hardness poking through her panties, “Scopami. Scopami forte, please, Luca.” (fuck me, fuck me hard)

Before the Italian had the chance to yank off the clothing that was unnecessary during the heating time, the sound of the phone ringing in the air called for him. An aggravated groan left his lips, hands curling into a fist, ready to smash whatever ruined the moment, “Ignore it.” Pulling his neck back down, the climax of the moment proceeded. Then it rang. And it continued to ring. Shifting her hips up to meet with his grinding, she was then met with air. Eyes watching as the back of his figure fade into the hallway, she threw her head into the silky pillows. 

“I’m sorry, amore,” The Italian mumbled, hands running down his face before he mussed his already untamed hair from the wild moment. Crossing her arm, sheet on her neck, she hummed, nodding as if she wasn’t bothered by the interruption. But Luca knew better. The mafioso crouched beside the side of her bed, thumb caressing her hands in his. Without meeting his eyes, the woman nodded. “Something happened at work. I’ll come back home as soon as I can, alright?”

Y/N nodded, nothing coming out of her mouth as she watched him sprint around the house. A new piece of clothing on every time. Then, the house became silent. Cold. Another typical day.

Grinding of knives against the ceramic plates played a screeching note in the air while it was overlapped by the clanking of glass meeting the wooden table. Whenever Luca pulled away from his plate and was met with gazing eyes, he would send a smile, to which they would respond with the same gesture. Chatters from his relatives weaved through their bodies, striking up a conversation about their recent travels or how their children were doing. After swallowing the steak she had chewed on, Y/N glanced at the man who sat beside her. The Italian sliced through the steak, cutting out a smaller, more chewable piece. 

Hand resting on his knees, he sent her a smile before dropping the steak into his salivating mouth. The gesture was innocent. Just a little indication that she was there. Then her fingers lingered to rest on his thighs, her rings shooting a wink at his glancing eyes. However, that had only stopped him for a second before he began to pluck at the side-dishes of potatoes. With a glass of red wine in her hand, she called out his name, “Luca.”

“Yeah?” He quirked up, shoving down another piece of potato before slashing through the steak for another part. Y/N bit her bottom lip, eyes running over the heads of the people who sat on the dining table. She took a sip, crossing her thighs. 

When the woman made sure that everyone was at least focused on their eating or they were too busy about their nieces who have finally found a man, she leaned onto her arm, mouth hovering over his ears, “Non sto indossando le mutandine.” (i’m not wearing any panties)

The blade of the knife plunged straight through the tough steak. His hand didn’t move an inch as he digested the words, ears muffled to his chatting family. Oh, she’s a troublemaker. Y/N wore a grinning smile at his reaction, her red fingernails trailed up to draw imaginary lines. While sipping on her drink, she shot back smiles. Luca hadn’t moved, eyes strained onto his plate. 

Noticing his cousin’s peculiar behaviour, Lorenzo interjected through the already tranquil air, “Luca? You fine, there?” 

Y/N’s hands were quick to rest on his arm. The Italian mafioso craned his neck up, noting that everyone’s eyes were now on him, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just not sure if I finished that last sheet at work.” With the miracle of his signature smirk, the tension in the air evaporated as if it wasn’t even there.

“Oh, Luca. Such a hard-working man you are.” Despite his innocent glittering smile towards his aunts and uncles who began to praise his work ethic which then escalated to bashing on his lazy cousins, deep down, he had calculated every plan. Y/N pressed her lips, back leaning on her chair. She watched the back of his sleeked hair while she enjoyed the taste of her wine. Questions resounded the walls in Y/N’s head. Was he not going to do anything? Even though disappointment rose in her chest, the rising bar halted. 

When the piece of steak he had just swallowed was cleansed with a sip of red wine, the Italian patted his hands on the serviette. One leg thrown on the edge of his other, he cleared his throat, though, only loud enough for his girl to hear. Oh, Y/N had put the Italian in countless situations where she would sit back to enjoy as he tries to crawl back out. The woman knew with everything she commits, there’ll be consequences. But his English weaved with a twinge of Italian, raspy and husky voice trickled straight down to the heating between her legs, “Are you wet?”

In the corner of his eyes, his orbs stared at her deep red lips. At the amount of wine she had downed, he wasn’t sure if it was from her lipstick or the red wine. He watched as her tongue peeked out to run over her lips, white teeth stealing a wink at the Italian. The corners of his lips curled up when she nodded as a response. Shameless thoughts roared in his head. If he hadn’t imagined enough, he was surely out of capacity to ponder more. Y/N beamed at his ring-covered fingers delicately run around the ring of the glass. 

“Tell me what you want.” Tongue coated by the wine, he quirked an eyebrow at his girl whose legs could not find a comfortable position. 

Y/N could feel the damp spot smearing wetness in her inner thighs, thanks to his prodding question. Although Luca sat back with a cocky smirk while he swirled his glass, his shoulders went rigid as she practically moaned into his ears, “Voglio la tua testa fra le gambe,” (i want your head between my legs) The woman exhaled, clenching her legs together at the thought. “Piegami e voglio che tu mi scopi bene.” (bend me over and i want you to fuck me good)

The pleasant air was sliced through with an ear-pitching screech of a chair. All heads were darted towards the towering man whose face flushed, although, the temperature of the room was decent. This was not how it was supposed to be. A mass plunged down the Italian’s throat, barely noticeable despite everyone’s wandering eyes, “I’m sorry. But Y/N doesn’t feel well.”

The family barely had time to process what was happening. Even though the couple had already left the room in a rush, Luca’s fingers furled around his girls’ hand, there was only one pair of eyes who had caught a look on their faces. The corners of his lips quirked up. Orlando shook his head as red wine smeared his throat. Oh, Luca. 

“Luca?” A sweet, mellow voice trickled into his ears as if a sugary dessert was placed onto his tongue. It slithered across the drenched frigid ground of the bathroom, crawling up to graze against his bare arms that sat on the sides of the bathtub. Prickling up his arm, it swerved through the bulging hairs on his frigid, exposed skin that saluted the barely visible breeze in the room. It weaved as if knotted vines down a mossy wall, done by a fairy. Eyes heavily shut, Luca didn’t bother to tolerate the light seeping through the window pane. Well, more like he couldn’t as a consequence of locking himself in his office for at least nine hours per day. 

The muscles in his arms ached, his whole body was numb to the idea of a warm bath after days of not being able to indulge in time. It was always the stacks of papers on his desk that prevented him from breathing in at least an air of relaxation. If the Italian had managed to complete the bundle of papers, someone would scramble in with more work. Work, work and work. He has had enough of it. 

All he wanted now was a getaway, a vacation far away from the bustling noise of New York despite his love for the grand city. Luca didn’t care where it would be, he just wants to hop in his car and not think of the criminal business he was a part of. He desired a place of furious wind that can take his mind off the illegal organization he participated in. A place where no one knows him. A place where no one wants to know him. Just him and his girl. 

The corners of his lips curled up at the thought. Even though it was just six days of not slumbering in their shared bed, it felt too long. It was too long. The excruciating hours of shifting and trying out every possible position on an office chair was one of the music he would hear often while he scribbled away. Luca called the record, grumpy chair. However, it was not as annoying as the ticking clock. Squeezing his eyes tight, Luca clogged his mind. If he heard another damn clock ticking, he would not hesitate to shoot it in its dancing arms to shatter its ability to ever move again. The infuriating presence was a necessity. 

Despite his hatred for the object that hung high on his wall, he needed it there to remind him that it was in fact night, the time everyone should be deep in slumber, and not morning, where he would be working away. The Italian could barely count the number of times he had to be reminded that it was dark outside, and he needed to rest. With the curtains shut tight to prevent the Italian to peek out into the busy street of bustling cars and people sauntering, Luca was restricted to limited options. Maybe it was because he hated sleeping on the incredibly uncomfortable couch that was as solid as metal. It was only there to appeal the eyes with its crimson red buttons and silky stitching. Now he understood why his clients were squirmish on the seat while he sat on the velvet armchair. 

The mafioso had tried slumbering on the much more tolerable seat; however, the only comfortable position he had explored so far was that of a baby resting against his mother’s chest. The reminder of the furniture decorating his office pulled up an essential task he would have to do soon. Find a better couch. 

Sure, Luca could’ve stayed at home and sleep in his bed with his girl. But for how long? It would’ve probably been a twenty-minute nap in the middle of the night before he would scurry out of the house to head back to work. The Italian had only visited his home to grab changes of clothing, although, it was just an excuse to see Y/N. 

With the amount of work that had been hurled onto his desk, he had no time to do the littlest thing that would drive a normal person crazy. It seemed as if every time he had stood up to accomplish a side mission, he had a last-minute meeting. Luca hated to admit it, but having to be present at a meeting while deprived of sleep was not a good idea. If only he could yank out the memory of him nearly slipping off the chair while he was supposed to listen to the business partner who rambled on and on, he would live his life more freely. Something about percentages. 

Luca pressed his lips at the thought of his girl sleeping in the bed alone. Y/N and him were still in contact despite his hectic hours, but they managed. Hours of calling was a relaxing method that calmed his thoughts even though her being there had been slightly distracting.

The woman had been more than persistent in paying him a visit, maybe bring him meals when she had heard from his mother that he had not eaten properly. Luca kept denying it even though his stomach was screaming a faint cry. He didn’t want her to witness the hurricane mess of his office. There were short stubs of pencils he had tortured in grinding sharpeners all over the floor. Glasses of whiskey covered the whole area of his coffee table. Not to mention the incessant amount of coffee he had consumed. For sure, it was more than the recommended. 

Oh, but he could not imagine her reaction to opening the closet in his office. As a result of barely having any time, his dress shirts sagged from the curved wooden hangers, creating an unbalanced position. With an accidental immense pull, its contents would regurgitate on the victim.

The starting of the week was the calm before the storm. It commenced at a casual horizontal line that Luca and his fellow employees would saunter on. The Italian would tip his hat to people who walked past, acknowledging their presence. However, when it started to incline at a steady steep, it was when all hell broke loose. 

No one in the organization was surprised to the incline since the month had been inconsistently fluctuating with their business. But no one expected the amount of work they had to exert caress the clouds. While the amount of work had increased steeply to a hill one could barely climb (it was an impossible vertical line to hike upon), he couldn’t apply the concept of the lines to his exhaustion graph. His energy had sloped down below negative zero to be wiped off from the given space. Non-existent. The man wasn’t sure which factor weighed more to the reason of his true tiredness, his ageing years that teased to the number thirty or the lack of sleep. It was most likely the lack of sleep because he knew he fought well in bed.

His drenched hair dripped water out as if faulty syringe squirting out the liquid. An agonizingly slow-paced stream of tears bawled down to plunge back into the tub which sent beads to splash out. It sang a faint song that echoed out of the wide-opened door and into the hallway. Patches of water were plastered on his face, though it had dried up after he had dunked his whole body in the tub. 

The swirls of the evaporated water on the surface of the tub grazed his skin with a prickling touch which he soon adapted to. Luca hummed as he shifted in the container. Water lapped against the bathtub, smacking the walls with a splat. While other’s had not been so lucky, some strands and beads of water managed to succeed to escape the heating container to plaster a mess. Smearing the frozen ground which had been coated with a layer of heat, the splashed out water plastered against the bathroom floor. A trap for those who wanted to slide around. Although Luca was sure she couldn’t hear his hum as a reply to his name being called, she now knew of the presence in their shared bathroom. Well, she could assume that it was either an intruder who had dared to pass the endless barriers of defence around their house or it was Luca. 

But, after seeing the polished black shoes thrown haphazardly on their living room carpet, and his lavish, onyx gold rings on their coffee table, excitement and joy grew in Y/N. She knew Luca was exhausted. It was the main topic of their conversations during the hour calls during his work hours when he wasn’t away from his office. The Italian had stacks upon stacks and meetings after meetings, he called his cramped office that began to be overrun by sheets of papers, home. There was a pinching urge in the tip of her fingers to run against his skin. It’s rare for the two to be separated for that long.

Y/N was one of the people who had assumed that Luca Changretta was as distant as he seemed. She was wrong. After living with him and being with him, she can say the exact opposite. Luca was clingy like a drenched shirt to skin. In bed, his arms would be around her so tight, legs tangled with hers. It was as if he needed to remind himself that she was there. Luca liked glueing his body against her back or chest. Sometimes (most of the time), it was the match that commenced a fiery morning.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she made way to the bathroom. Eyes fluttering open, eyelashes caressing the air, Luca sported a lazy smile at the sight. Y/N leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. The Italian mafioso who had been part of the opposing group to that of Al Capone’s was here, in the bathtub with a thin layer of bubbles covering what laid in the water. The water level halted at the middle of his chest, the exposed half was glistening with droplets of water. Swirls of heat vaporized from the container, smearing against his ageing skin.

As Y/N made way to the bathing man, Luca watched at the approaching figure. Sweet honey from the mirror coated her skin, glowing on the evening dress she wore to the market. Of course, Luca would know where she went. Despite her hatred for it, Y/N accepted the fact that there were prominent men trailing behind her with every step she took. Crouching down to hover her face over her lover’s, she leaned in to inhale the vapours. The Italian mumbled, “Hello darlin’.”

“How’re you?” His drenched fingers hook back the strand of hair behind her ears before it trailed down to rest on her cheek. 

The Italian mumbled, lost in her eyes, “Better, now that you’re here.”

“How’s work?”

“No. We’re not talking about that shit,” Meeting the frigid bathtub, a piercing at the back of his neck pinched his skin. He eyed her dress, confused to why she was still in her clothes. “You’re not getting in?”

“We’re not gonna fit.”

“We tried before. We can make space.” Y/N shook her head, teeth poking through her grin at his words. Before she knew it, the sleeves of her dress were coiled up, arm dipped into the water.

A sigh left his lips at the grip of her fingers curling around him. Tipping his back, neck meeting the cold tub, it didn’t even bother him as all he could see was a hazy blur over his vision. Hand moving at a languid pace, up and down, Y/N bit her bottom lip at the sight of his neck. Strips of veins running down were prominent, bulging as if he had waited such a long time for a sense of relief. Of course, he would need to be relieved. He had been cooped up in his office for days. The pair only had time to place kisses on each other’s lips whenever Luca rarely came back home. Makeout time was so short, it felt unfair. It would always be a peek of their tongues caressing before Luca noticed the time. Always.

Y/N relished the way his adam’s apple bopped, engraining the sight into her head for later uses. Knees prodding into the walls of the tub, Luca’s clench on the tub tightened when her thumb pressed the slit. The wicked grin she wore widened once she felt the shaft twitching, hardening with every move of her hand. His legs stuttered as the splashing of water echoed into his ears. But it barely made sense. Everything was a buzzing of a bee, muffled by the blur he was in. 

“Ti piace cosi?” (do you like this?). Luca nodded. “Voglio sentirti dentro di me.” (I want to feel you inside me.)

The sight of his ink cross seeped into her head, creating warmth between her legs. Luca’s eyelids fell, shutting his vision to indulge in the feeling of her hands on his cock, “Fuck..” The Italian felt himself chasing his euphoria, he could’ve snatched it in an arms length. It stopped. The splashing of water halted. The air of the room died. Y/N’s hands pulled away, beads of water diving onto the ground as she stood up. 

“But... as much as I enjoy this, I prefer if I’m very much involved. I’ll be waiting.” Luca’s eyes flickered to her teeth peeking out to wink at him while she bit her bottom lip. Sauntering out of the bathroom, swinging her hips, Y/N sent a coquettish wink over her shoulders. Not this time.

[ghoulishhusband]

I just realized I can actually talk here. Like this is my account fuck u

Fucking uhhhhhh, hi ig lemme ramble abt my God ocs yea?

Ignore this part if you don't wanna hear (likely) unedited rambles lol it doesn't matter

CW: neglect/abuse, assholery/narcissism, manipulation, tread lightly!

read the under cut owo

Also don't steal my art I'll fucking?? Fight you????

So

I have three main gods that I wanna talk abt especially bc they've been on my mind lately.. Less get it, side notes are in (parentheses) and are bolded cause I have perception issues whoo I don't want it to jumble together is my point lol

First up is my asshole,

Giodine

they/them (preferred)

god/godself (i like pronouns that fit my characters, so I'm giving a bunch away for one night only at--)

ID : Giodine is colored with gold-ish yellow skin and ginger hair. Their eyes are a muted purple and they have tiny eyebrows. Their lips are a muted brown and are full looking, their nose is sharp and points down. They have wings for ears and is wearing a blazer with a long-sleeved, collared shirt underneath it. The background is beige with a yellow square and a dark purple square partially encompassing it. It is signed GH (for ghoulish husband), Spork, 21.

(lemme know if that helps at all! I'm sure I can do better so lemme know!)

If they look weird here it's bc I accidentally made their face too long but believe it or not this is in fact just a doodle Ik I'm so fuckin talented babes.

Anyways, they're basically the first God to ever exist on my version of earth (though even that is fickle rn, world-building is hard unless I hyper-focus on it, and haha Guess What I Haven't Been Thinking About) and they're very egotistical and selfish. As I'll probably yap about later is how they're manipulative as well, especially to another God I'll mention, and very neglectful to the other... other one.

Their partner(professionally), or fiend as they call him, is sam who for the first few eons was, unsurprisingly, absolutely terrible to him. A few tender moments are few and far in between in what could only be described as a completely rancid relationship. I'll describe giodine's side and in sam's lil ramble, I'll describe his :]

I have to explain this because it's a big part of the lore and how they can't work together, even when one of them is very much near The Void (technical death for gods) BUT basically, with Sam, giodine created purgatory. The issue here is that they basically seduced sam into doing it. Well, even if they hadn't, sam was in lesbians(happy pride month lmao) with giodine and would've done it anyway. But the ISSUE is that with the creation of purgatory came complications. See, my gods have to take time to develop into their power, and considering giodine was first and sam was around 666th.. you see the issue. Sam wasn't into his complete power yet and thus lost a giant part of it that went into purg.

See, giodine saw no problem with this (until much later, they do get a VERY SLOW BURN redemption arc cause this ain't even the worst of it), they got what they were aching for out of them and thusly had no need for..sam. They laid him in the spot where she was made (fwi it isn't inherently sexual, it can be, but literally, they just merged together-- taking bits and pieces of each other (which sam did not have enough of) and earth and light yadda, yadda I'll post the story I wrote for that later if I'm up to it) and left him there in the grass.

Again, they saw no problem with that, the deed was done, they didn't care anymore. A common issue in their qualms, sam and Giodine. They did find an issue in Sam finding an issue in the lack of aftercare, which resorted to any message going to or coming from sam going straight to his assistant and going back through them for a couple of thousand years. They found that infuriating-- how could he not face them over something so small! and for years?! it was ridiculous. After forcing a face-to-face meeting, a heated proclaim of hurt from sam, and a bitter agreement to meet up every now and again, they got what they wanted from him. Again. It was a business after all, there was no point in making it harder than it needed to be. 

Giodine doesn't necessarily like boundaries and tends to overstep sam's frequently. They also don't like his reaction to his boundaries being long jumped over, which thusly ends up in disgruntled messages being sent back and forth between them and his assistant for a month or three. It slowly gets through to them, but they tend to say some stupid shit and if they want sam to stay, they have to try and avoid mentioning how "overly sensitive" he is to something that happened eons ago.

(quick mention, there isn't like. time. here. so in all honesty, giodine probably counted earth days instead of Heaven 'days' to get that) Soon into their arrangements to meet, they seem to get on at least tolerable terms, obviously, a few meetings where neither of them feels like going apeshit and taking proper shapeless (or in sams case, he's got a newfound form for ANGER OO just for giodine 🤗) forms isn't going to fix a grudge that has yet to be apologized for by the way. But it's a start to a very long process down the road. Tolerance.

Giodine as an entity is very fickle and rude and demanding. They tend to have a short temper that no one else is allowed to have or comment on-- They were the first therefore they were the most important!

This is very obviously an issue. But it's mostly directed to purgatory. Almost all of their seething rage is pointed towards the poor entity, she's barely been alive yet and they already seem to hate her for things she doesn't know how to do. Honestly, I don't think Purg will ever fully forgive them for the unnecessary abuse of her character, but just as Sam and Giodine get on better terms, they had barely just begun fixing the hole in their relationship. As of now, Sam/Giodine don't have any minor plot points with purgatory other than the major one so I don't have a lot to say about their relationship right now. Maybe one day.

I'd go into details, seriously, but I just wanna ramble about their relationships with each other and their impact on each other's existence. Hope you don't mind a few secrets 😉

But, now, it's time for a new God, one I think most people take a liking to...

Sam (Samuel)

He/him

ID: Sam is surrounded by clouds in the light blue, fading to a darker blue sky and the yellow sun. His horns are a darker beige, which is being highlighted by the sun shining down on him, he also has pointed ears. His skin is red which is very prominent in the sun. His eyes are completely yellow, his hair, beard and mustache are also black. He has an orange scar crawling up to his Adams apple. His wings are a darker grey which is also being highlighted by the sun. His nails are painted black and his hand is holding up the black fabric barely covering his shoulders. Around the painting is a gold and red shaded frame with swirls complimenting each side and a crystal at the bottom of it. It is lightly signed GH, for ghoulish husband.

Sam, Sam, Samuel.

If you don't realize right away, Sam is basically Satan, he's the ruler of hell

Like how giodine was the first to appear on earth, as mentioned before sam was 666th for funnie reasons. Sam was made from bugs, dried blood, and sunlight which sounds pretty gross, but he's far from it. He's a silly, yet neat, guy. He wears Hawaiian shirts and khakis (not around giodine lmao) for cryin' out loud! how bad of a person can he be? Apparently to giodine (for a while obviously) he was the most retched entity to exist. This very much hurt him considering the amount of fake care they showed him before. With a mixture of confusing feelings (which wasn't supposed to be a thing but Univerce went "lmao you'll be fine" and left... short explanation, Univerce is the Universe and is the entity who simply builds these planets and gods that'll appear there and leave them to their own devices, xyr not extremely important in this story. Nor would they care.) and feeling used, he decided that no he wasn't going to take that.

If there is one thing Sam knows how to do is to self preserve himself, even if that means getting passive-aggressive notes sent to him every once in a while. While this period, Sam was surprisingly the least productive (unfortunately giodine knew this and eventually mentioned it in one of their meetings which made him hide away cause like hell giodine was going to be critical of /him/) but he managed. It wasn't terrible, but unfortunately, Sam being able to talk it out with someone who does practically the same work as he does and gets newer, more helpful ideas was better in the long run.

Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first to initiate the healing of his and giodine's relationship but it wasn't reciprocated. Who would've figured, aye? Giodine kept pushing it back onto him and ignoring any progress that could've been made before. Which was frustrating.

The painting above was 'painted' by giodine, which is sorta where their relationship gets somewhat on an understanding of each other. Giodine gets to take a deep long look into who Sam is and tries to express it but it never fit him, it makes them realize that they never really-- truly got to know him. And all it does for Sam is make him even more confused about his place in giodine’s mind. He figured it's another fluke to get him to do something, so he ends up distancing himself when they start actually reciprocating his friendship advancements.

Suddenly, like a flash, Sam was forced to stay with giodine which is where the majority. I'll explain.

Sam...isn't actually the ruler of hell. Anymore, anyways depending on the timeline. His and purgatory's relationship has always been complicated, she always avoided him, and when they talked she always seemed scared of him. So in the end, they've never been close. Distant. Sam always wanted to talk to her, he made her, but if she didn't want to talk to him he wouldn't force it. But imagine his surprise as Purg singlehandedly took over hell in a hazed frenzy.

And not only that, had a personal vendetta against him!

Well, that would be the only explanation to Sam considering how he ended up broken and barely 'alive' at the hands of her. Horns broken and in tatters, pain and almost obliterated it felt like a hate crime. He didn't know what to do when he made it to the office, Purgatory was creating chaos outside his door and barely being able to breathe he felt like it was the end. So he called giodine. 

Purgatory

She/her

ID: Purgatory is surrounded by flowers that are dark grey and white. The light fades down into a dark green. The light shines down on top of her straight, white hair that has yellow flowers tucked into it.  Her skin is a dark brown and has a orange-ish yellow scar on her shoulder trailing up to her neck. Her skin is also highlighted by the sun. In one of her eyes, her sclera is black with an orangey, glowing iris. As for the other eye it it has a white sclera and the same, glowing orange iris. She has wings for ears, one dark grey and one white along with beige horns. She has a white fabric covering her chest. The frame is gold with white accents, but also has vines and moss crawling up the side. 

(may have goofed a bit and forgot to color the sclera of her other eye white but ignore that pls)

Purgatory was made by Sam and Giodine, but to her it felt like a mistake. Why make someone that you’re going to be terrible to, she believed. Giodine seemed to hate her and eventually made her section almost obsolete because she simply wasn’t able to keep up with the backlog that she wasn’t taught to deal with. Not only that, she didn’t have any help with any of it, it was almost like she was expected to just do it on her own. Until Death came along to help, but that’s not what we’re going to be talking about right now. 

And also, Purgatory is Purgatory yadda, yadda, I wont insult your intelligence.

Giodine’s thought process (other than wanting to be Real Close to Sam and once that thought filtered out, promptly ignored it) was that all the extras that don’t fit in either category of their thought of good and evil they’d go to her. (doesn’t matter cause in Sam's system it filters through ‘levels of assholery’ and depending on how bad you are you either just vibe in the upper city under rule of capitalism and possibly many under paying jobs or being actually tortured for his amusement if you’re just evil. Morally grey. Anyway, it could work p well in heaven if giodine wasn’t such a damn stickler.) But in the end, every day, less and less people ended up in purgatory, leaving her with barely any people and more verbal abuse from giodine who ‘HAS to take them or they would be more dead than they already are’. You see the pain she has to go through, right? 

~Idea section, this is probably not canon anyways so dont take it serious~ 

My thought is that another oc (BA, you may have heard of him idk) takes over simply because Purg took multiple hims from alternative timelines (which isn’t allowed but what’re they gonna do, undead a dead clown? multiple times from multiple timelines???)) because she adored him and they figured ‘well we gotta redo purgatory may as well do it like this’ and make him a demi-dead-god. i think thats a cool idea right? anyhoo

~Idea section over uwu~

Purgatory overall is a fairly timid character, she doesn’t like conflict, is easily overwhelmed, and generally keeps to herself. She doesn’t see the point in being in any drama if she’s just going to be yelled at and scolded even if it’s not about her. The only way i could describe her taking over hell is this: 

She was tired. She was angry and after feeling like nothing was in control or in her hands, she snapped. Why doesn’t she get anything or get to be ‘all powerful’ but they do? She knew if she took on Giodine she’d likely get thrown to the void, but sam? He felt fair game. Considering her fear of both of these gods, she planned and got her courage up to take him over. She had considered negotiations but in the end, she ended up going into a haze and ruining everything in sight. She was more powerful than she thought and once she started, she didn't stop until Death restrained her and Sam was already in pieces at God’s doorstep. 

The aftermath was fuzzy for her and for everyone really. Godine was planning a take back hell while actually worrying for sam, sam was planning for a retirement, and she was being consoled while trying to get in contact with sam to apologize. Giodine wouldn’t dare let her talk to him, until she just showed up in their office. She didn’t have a problem with Sam, honest, she just was going to take shit over, but it got out of control. 

Spoiler, Sam took her apology and they actually became.. somewhat closer after reaching an understanding. 

I wanna say that giodine took them being okay and sam retiring as good as sam did about purg running hell, but they didn’t. Giodine and purgatory actually barely got along in the first place, and only begun ‘working’ on their bitterness toward each other because they both had sam to encourage it. I can’t say for certain if they’ll get better, as theyre both undying and have time, but I’ll just say for now its uncertain. 

Also, Death is Purgatory’s girlfriend after all of that lmao.

And.. yeah, i hope this makes sense and that you like my drawings and ramblings about my lil story in my head, i guess this is my way to develop it without just keeping it to myself cause god forbid i keep things to myself hshsh. If you made it to the end, thank you for taking the time to read and attempting to process everything, and even if you didnt read and just looked to look at my art thank you to!!

I may post some art over on @ghoulishhusbandart cause.. it was my art account before i completely forgot about it but i might reboot it! But if you wan art NEOWWW follow me on insta (ik cringe lmaoo) by the same name as this account @ghoulishhusband​ or just click that insta link! also ignore the fact that giodine is the only one without a portrait, maybe I’ll replace it the next time i draw but im graduating on monday and my dad’s coming TOMORROW?? so i won’t have too much time to do it... but i hope you like my art anyways :]

ok!! ty!! ily!!

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

New Beginnings

Part Five: Courting?

Part 4

Chiyo enjoyed her time with the pack. It took a bit of time on her behalf to come out of her shell but, she eventually was able to start hanging out with her packmates (although, she didn’t like Mineta as much as the others). She was still somewhat reserved, opting to spend time with Aizawa if given the chance. And, no one knew about her past or where she came from.

She still hasn’t starting her quirk training but, no one pushes her to do it. They know that she’ll do it when she feels comfortable with herself. Part of her wants to show them what she can do but, she’s afraid of showing them how much of a monster she can be.

Mirio has taken to coming to get the omega as soon as lunch begins, her pack staring at him weirdly as he waits for her at the door (one person in particular doesn’t like how close he is to her). They have lunch on the rooftop, laugh at each other’s cheesy jokes, sit so close to each other that they can feel their body heat. As much as she’d hate to admit it, she likes being so close to him.

He’s not the only person that she doesn’t entirely hate. Despite the jarring way they had first met, Shinsou and Chiyo are surprisingly close. Shinsou finds her presence to be calming, her scent of peaches and pine driving him near insanity. But, he’s also found that’s she’s clever, always having something to say or some inquisitive look on her face. She’s kind in her own way; giving offhanded compliments while she looking away from the person as to hide her flustered face.

“We’re matching,” Shinsou grins, twirling a piece of her purple hair between his fingers. “Aren’t we the perfect pair?”

“Get you grumby hands off my hair. My hair is nothing like yours,” although this may sound like an insult, she means to say she likes his hair more than her own. She fiddles with the fabric of her shirt (something her pack had come to know as her being nervous).

“You’re right...yours is clearly nicer,” blossoms of red on her skin.

“Whatever, you’re ugly anyway,” she stalks off to go be with the girls. Aizawa was off patrolling and that meant she’d have to conversate. “Stupid boy thinking he can touch me. So fucking weird. JIROUUU, HE TOUCHED ME.”

Jirou and the girls were in the kitchen, no doubt watching her stomp over with puffed out cheeks. Out of all the girls, she’d bonded with Jirou over music and art, leaving her to be closer to the outspoken omega.

“He’s been being weirder than usual lately,” Chiyo snatched a piece of candy away from Momo. “The other day, he gave me a fucking blanket.”

“Did you not like the blanket?” cue the offward stare at the candy wrapper.

“I-I it wasn’t entirely shitty. Had fluff n smelled like him.”

“Did he say why he gave it to you?”

“No. The bastard just came to my door and pushed it in my arms with a weird ass grin then walked down the hall with his hands in his pockets,” a piece of her hair fell in her face.

Meanwhile, Shinsou was outside with the boys working up the courage to go inside and talk to Chiyo. So far, she had accepted the blanket which was a good sign. But, he had no idea how she’d respond to him asking her out for food.

“Baggy eyes, just ask her. It’s not fucking hard,” Bakugou was getting tired of the alpha’s sour scent and pacing. A few more minutes of this and he knew he’d go crazy and go ask her out for his friend.

“Shut the fuck up,” Shinsou was antsy. Sure, Chiyo was doing good at fitting in and talking more but, was this too soon? She’s only been with the for a month.

“Just go in there and ask her. You’re the only guy she talks to on a regular basis,” Kirishima did have a point. It’s not that Chiyo didn’t like the boys but, for reasons she’d sworn never to revisit, she just didn’t like being around them longer than what was necessary.

“She probably doesn’t even know what a date is,” he’s trying to talk himself out of this, even though all the boys know he’ll have to ask her out eventually. “The only time she leaves the campus is with Aizawa.”

“Then, this would be good for her. Give her some exposure to the outside world. Then,” Kaminari wiggles his eyebrows to leave the suggestion in the air. Sero slaps him upside the head.

“This is why you shouldn’t be allowed to have hands,” Kaminari pouts.

Shinsou just shakes his head and decides to do it before he loses his nerve. He walks through the dorm door, confronted with Chiyo smiling. It makes his heart beat even faster than what it was before, the erratic beat sousing against his chest. He wanted to keep that smile on her face no matter what happened.

“Omega, are you busy today?” Chiyo looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Uhhh, I don’t think so. I was gonna paint some of my room,” Shinsou smirks. Ofcourse the cutie would try to seclude herself after daily dose of interaction. “Stop smiling, it’s ugly.”

“You hungry?”

“When am I not hungry?” Chiyo’s known for being a big eater.

“Then, get ready and I’ll take you out for ramen,” Chiyo tilts get head.

“We’re going alone?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou walks off before Chiyo can rethink her decision. He walks off, jumping up and clicking his heels once he’s around the corner.

“What the fuck just happened?”

“Looks like you’re going on your first date,” Chiyo turns slowly to Jirou, still not believing this happened. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t tell him to do it.”

“I gotta go,” Chiyo runs off to the elevators and up to her room. She’s tapping her foot in hurried beats, her body trying to suppress upcoming shudders.

‘Need Aizawa. Need alpha. Gotta get alone. Gonna lose it,’ she runs to her room and locks herself in. These are the moments she wishes she was still alone. There was no worrying over trivial things or fears of losing her cool.

“AIZAWAAAAA, I need help,” She screeched into the phone the moment he picked up. His breath sounded labored but that was probably due to him running home from his nightly patrol. “Shinsou. Me, Ramen. UNSHITTY BLANKET.”

“Kitten, you know I can’t understand you with how fucked up that sentence was,” Chiyo took a few deep breaths. “Good, just breathe. Now, tell me what happened.”

“Shinsou gave me a blanket last week which wasn’t really that bad but that’s beside the point and then today he asked me to get ramen which is unfair because he knows how much I like to eat and now I don’t know what to do and,” she took another breath when she heard some chuckles. “Aizawa, why are you laughing? This isn’t a laughing matter. This is life and death and you’re laughing like candy man.”

“For one, I don’t know who that is. For two, you’re overreacting Kitty. It’s not like he’s asking you to marry him. Just get dressed, go out, and enjoy yourself. This is a good moment to bond with him,” he clears his throat. “Well, not that much bonding.”

“I don’t even know what to wear,” she got up and starting rummaging through her closet. While Aizawa had taken her to go shopping for more casual clothes, she hadn’t picked anything really flashy because she didn’t think she’d ever have to wear the clothes on anything like this. Now she wishes she listed to the older alpha when he told her to pick something nice.

“This is what happens when you don’t listen,” she scoff.

“Just shut the fuck up and help me,” he laughs.

“As much as I’d like to help my kitten, I have patrolling to do. Get the girls to help you. I’ll be home by the time you get home with lovvvvvverboy.”

She doesn’t even dignify him with a response and hangs up on him as she moves things in her closet at a more aggressive pace. She can’t just go downstairs and ask the girls for help; it’ll make her look innocent and naive (even though she really is and they all know it but she doesn’t want to put the final nails in her coffin).

She starts to settle on a pair of light wash blue jeans and a baggy long sleeve when she hears a knock on her door. She already knows it’s the girls because she knows that Aizawa called them due to her stubborn inability to ask for help.

“I need help picking out what to wear,” she says, not even looking to see who it is, and walking back to the pile of clothes that were in the middle of her floor.

“Okay, what the hell happened in here? It looks like a hurricane came in here,” Uraka’s eyes are wide.

“Haha, really original,” Chiyo sneers.

“Hey, no being mean just because you’re nervous,” Jirou and Mina both chop her on the head. “But, seriously, you’re room is fucked up.”

“Are you guys just gonna judge me or are you gonna help me?” Chiyo clenches her fist around her shirt.

“We never judge you,” Mina rubbed the top of her head which made the omega elicit a small purr. “Aizawa was right to name you kitten. So touch starved.”

“Stawwwwp and help,” Chiyo pushes her hands away, missing the petting but she’d never admit that. Growing up, she didn’t experience the same physical contact that most did. And, when she was touched, it was with malice intent. So, it felt weird when she first starting getting close to the pack and they would randomly touch her.

“Hmmmmm leave it to us,” she didn’t realize that Hagakure was there before she spoke. She feels bad for the girl that’s literally invisible; it must be lonely to never be acknowledged unless people notice the floating clothes.

And, that’s how Chiyo ended up where she was now. Her and Shinsou were currently walking down the street to a nearby ramen restaurant, Chiyo fighting the wind that was pushing her skirt up. The girls chose a pastel purple skater skirt that had suspenders and a long-sleeve white shirt that tucked into the dress. Her hair was pulled up into two side ponytails, making her look even more adorable than normal.

They walked in a silence that gnawled at both of them. Both of them were nervous but, Shinsou knew he’d have to be the one to say something.

“I can’t believe you wore a skirt all for me,” Chiyo sputtered and turned to the boy, hands clenched at her side as she snarled.

“It’s not for you, asswipe. The girls thought it would look nice,” he laughs.

“Ofcourse they did. Either way, it looks nice on you,” she blushed and turned to the side.

“You don’t look disgusting either,” she sped walked forward so she didn’t have to keep looking at him. He looked handsome in his black jeans and purple bottom down. She figured the girls had picked out her purple skirt on purpose. “C’mon I’m hungry and you’re sitting there like a dick.”

“Dicks only stand up where they’re hard,” She puncher his arm before she dragged him the rest of the way.

They arrived at the ramen restaurant a few minutes later with Chiyo only having to hit her companion a few times. It was a quaint building with a two floors, red brick exterior, and a few windows scattered around. The around smelled just like ramen, which was a good thing in Chiyo’s mind. They were seated in a booth tucked away in a corner of the restaurant.

“Ohh, look at the two of you on a date. So kawaii,” Chiyo wanted to yell at the little woman that seated them that it wasn’t a date and that she only agreed at the prospect for free food but, Shinsou just threw his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side.

“She’s the kawaii one,” and she was silent. She was seated across from Shinsou, looking everywhere but him. It’s bad enough that he looks so good but he keeps staring at her and it makes her heart feel weird. “You’ll have to look at me eventually, omega.”

“I hope they put poison in your ramen,” she bites her lip when hey make eye contact. She doesn’t know why him calling her by her second gender makes her want to croon for him.

“Such strong words from such a cinnamon bun,” she quirks her head.

“I’m not a cinnamon bun. You can’t even eat me, dumbass,” she looks up and nods her head in appreciation as a server comes and drops her bowl of ramen in front of her. “This, however, seems promising.”

He doesn’t say anything as he watches her practically inhale a noodle. She looks so cute while she eats, swaying side to side as she dances happily, the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. She looks carefree with half a noodle hanging out her mouth and that makes him all the more happy he decided to court her. If only he knew she didn’t know what courting was.

“Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna eat?” He digs into his meal, happy with the comfortable silence that lands over them. They eat in the silence, playing footsies under the table.

“What’s your favorite color?” Shinsou asks her randomly. She stops with her noodle halfway in her mouth, wondering to herself if she even had a favorite color.

“I don’t think I have one,” she shrugs.

“Everyone has one,” she just shrugs again. “You have to pick one. Anything. “

She thinks for a moment. It’s not like she has a preference in anything so she doesn’t understand why this is so important to him but, she still comes up with something.

“Just one?”

“Mmm, you can have more than one.”

“Black, purple, and blue.”

“Why those colors?” She blushes. She didn’t want to tell him that she chose those colors because they’re the colors of her three favorite people’s eyes. “Well I like purple too.”

“Why do you like purple?”

“It’s our color,” Chiyo stuffs her face in her bowl, not looking up to catch the dreamy gaze on Shinsou’a face. “I see that makes you blush.”

“Shut it, bags for eyes,” he smiles. He brings his index finger under her chin and forces her to meet his eyes, his fingers giving her a scorching feeling.

They sit there staring at each other, both of them ruffled in their own ways.

“You’re eyes are beautiful; it’s a shame I never get to see them since you’ll never look me in the eye,” she gulps. “Do you think you could work on that for me?”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” she doesn’t look away even when Shinsou removes his fingers from her chin. “We should get back to the dorms before Aizawa tries to skin me alive.”

Heading back to the dorms was calling, both their hands intertwined. Every time she tried to pull her hand away, Shinsou would chide her and hold her hand closer. It was even more embarrassing when they got back and everyone saw them holding hands.

“Awwwww,” they were all sitting on the couches waiting for the two of them.

“FUCK ALL OF YOU,” she ran to her room to escape the heat from her cheeks.

“YOU’RE CUTE WHENEVER YOU GET EMBARRASSED,” Shinsou yelled to her, smiling harder when Chiyo retaliated with her middle finger.

“Fuck you especially, old man.”

“You should save that for Shinsou,” and that sent her to her room. She stayed in her room to keep away from the teasing from her packmates. It’s not that she was ashamed but, she wasn’t used to these new emotions. Emotions like fear, happiness, and attraction (most definitely attraction) were foreign and its hard for her to deal with that.

Her pack mates did feel bad for the teasing; they often lost sight of the fact that she’s not used to handling things like they can. Aizawa assured them that she wasn’t mad at them but moreso just freaked up with herself and her newfound emotional freedom.

“We’re sorry, Chiyo. We feel happy that you’re coming out of your shell for Shinsou. We don’t want to make you feel weird or anything,” Jirou would come to talk to her everyday (along with Shinsou).

She wasn’t mad at them at all. If anything, she was mad at herself for being difficult and troubled. This was supposed to be primal instincts for her yet, it feels like learning to be someone new all over again. Years of suppressing herself has led to this and it’s overwhelming to start over again.

“Chiyo, Class is over,” Aizawa was tapping on her desk as she stared outside. She jumped to attention, noticing that it was lunch time. Although, her pack was still in the classroom looking at her. “Are you good?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just thinking and stuff,” she grew red. “It still feels different being here.” She purred as Mina rubbed her head. Mina has noticed the particular spot and hasn’t stopped rubbing it since, noting that it makes the omega release happy pheromones.

“Bambiiii, you’re late to lunch,” Chiyo looked to the door to see Mirio holding both of their lunches. Chiyo can’t deny how gorgeous his blue eyes look as the light reflect off of them, his muscular frame leaving the the opening.

“Who’s Bambi?”

“That’s me,” it’s one of the few times Chiyo says it. “He calls me that all the time.”

“That’s cause she’s cute like Bambi. And those eyes are big like em too,” Chiyo giggles and marches up to the blonde alpha. She grabs her lunch from him and looks back to wave at her pack.

“And he’s Smiles. I think his name is pretty explanatory. We’re gonna go have lunch,” and they’re off to the roof. Shinsou stands there, his scent filled with jealousy. How dare this alpha come on the steal her smiles? She doesn’t even smile like that for Aizawa! And, she fucking giggled. And, he’s fucking feeding her. He’s trying to steal his girl.

Meanwhile upstairs on the roof, Chiyo sat with Mirio as she ate the pork cutlet he had cooked for her.

“It’s sooo good,” she fakes a few tears as she chews on the pork. It’s salty on her tongue and that’s exactly how she likes her food. Plus, he even packed her some cucumbers and melon that he cut into little stars!!!

“You think everything is good,” he hands her some of the cucumber from his bento box when he notices she ate all of hers. “And, I swear, you’re the cutest thing when you eat.”

“I’m cute either way. Or, at least, that’s what you all tell me,” she gladly takes the cucumber. The air felt good on her skin as she scarfed down the rest of her lunch.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he looks down at her, a smile gracing his face as normal. But, this smile was nervous. “Can I take you to karaoke after school? We can go right after school and I’ll pay for the food and we’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Sure. I like spending time with you. You always make me smile,” and that’s true. Chiyo never feels pressured to feel anything other than happiness and humor with him and it’s a nice change from her pack mates. It’s just pure, organic fun. “But, I don’t really know that many songs.”

“That’s okay. They have private rooms. Plus, I don’t sound the best.”

“That’s an under exaggeration. Remember when you tried to sing last week? That poor bird took a nose dive down a tree,” she points at the supposed tree below them. “Yep, poor bird had to end it right then and ohhhhh fuck stop it Mirio. Stawppppp,” Mirio pulled her into his lap as he tickled her sides. She threw her head back and tried to squirm away from the torture.

“Take it back, Bambi,” he kept going, watching the girl with tears in her eyes.

“Never you sadistic, oh shit alright, you sound like Beyoncé,” he laughs at her goofiness. “She ain’t got shit on you Mirio.”

“You’re such a goofy bug. But, alas, we have to get back to class,” she pouts. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll come get you as soon as the bell rings.”

He walked her back to class, catching the looks her packmates gave him. He just brushed them off and picked her up to give her a hug. Much to their displeasure, she didn’t wiggle away from his touch like she does them. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his neck, unknowingly scenting him.

“Alright Bambi, remember that we’re going right after school. Get those vocals ready. And those ears better be ready to be blessed.”

“More like tortured.”

“What’d you say?” he showed her his fingers to remind her what would happen if she didn’t agree to his voice.

“Such an angel,” she formed a halo on top of her head with his fingers. He shook his head at her teasing. Class went by antagonizingly slow, seeming to be longer than what it ever was before.

When class ended, true to his word, Mirio was there to pick her up. She just didn’t think he would permeate his body through the floors and land right in front of her desk.

“Well, Smiles fell from the sky,” he laughs at Chiyo’s poor excuse of a joke. It makes him feel good that she tries to make him laugh.

“I’ll always fall for you,” Chiyo goes to say something smart. “I know it was cheesy. Good for me, you like cheese.”

“You’re lucky that I really do like cheese,” they walk out holding hands, a normal behavior between them but, to her pack, felt painful. She never holds their hands. Hell, she still tenses when they touch her.

The two of them walked down the sidewalk, holding hands and talking. Well, it was more like Mirio bringing up topics and Chiyo putting in her opinion every now and again. But, that’s how they liked their relationship. She doesn’t feel pressured int conversation which makes her want to talk to Mirio and Mirio doesn’t feel that she doesn’t like his presence which makes her want to be around her even more. Hell, not that many people can handle him smiling constantly but, she handles it like she’s been with him for years.

“So, there I am, blood on my titties,” Chiyo hutches over as she laughs. Mirio (along with Kaminari) has been teaching her meme culture. “C’mon, omega, I haven’t even finished the joke. “

“I can’t h-help it,” she looks up at him with a blinding smile. These smiles are reserved for him and him alone. “You don’t even have titties.”

“Hey, I have titties,” their conversation is cut at that once they get to the karaoke place. They’re pulled into their own room, a couch to each wall of the room and a microphone stan in the center. A large t.v. is plastered to the wall, reading for the lyrics to come.

“Woahhh, this...is...awesome,” Chiyo throws her stuff onto the closest couch to the door.

“I’ll have to thank Nejire,” Mirio sits down beside her, despite the abundance of seats around them. But, she doesn’t mind it. She’s touch starved so, she’s not the type to pull away from his touches. It’s weird how close they’ve gotten but, Chiyo can only attribute that to the fact he gives her the same vibes Aizawa does. “They even have snacks.”

“SNACKS,” she jumps up and grabs a mochi bun that’s sitting on a stool in front of them. The red bean flavor makes her moan out in food ecstasy, making Mirio have to adjust himself. “You want some?”

“You’re sharing? You must be in a really good mood,” Mirio pens his mouth for her to shove the bun in. He agrees that it was moan worthy when he grabs another one. “Should I be the one to sing first?”

Mirio ends up singing first, gracing her ears with his “angelic” voice. She follows his suit, stumbling on the words but still having a pretty good time. He walks her back to her dorm, him giving her a piggyback ride since she was “too full of snacks to move.” It feels good to finally have her in his arms.

“You wanna know something?” Chiyo says as she plays with the collar of his shirt. She’s nervous to say this but, she wants to.

“Tell me, Bambi.”

“You make me smile, Smiles,” she nuzzles her face into his neck, a way for him to know just how much it took for her to tell him that.”

“I love making you smile,” they walk in silence for the rest of the way. They come to the front of her dorm, walking up to Shinsou waiting on the steps with the rest of her packmates peaking through the windows.

‘What did I do this time?’ Chiyo thinks as she slides down from Mirio’s back.

“Go inside, I have to talk to Mirio,” Chiyo wants to protest with Shinsou but complies as Mirio gently nudges her to go inside, his comforting smile telling her that he’ll be okay.

“What the fuck was today? We’re not good enough fr you? Huh? Shitty girl thinks she’s too good for our pack,” of course Bakugou is the one losing his mind first. His carmine eyes bore into her eyes, making her turn her head. It’s too much to stare at his anger when she doesn’t know what exactly she did. “You fucked up with Shinsou. Are you just being a whore?”

The word makes her visibly tense, arms wrapping around herself to keep from attacking. Aizawa taught her this coping mechanism. “What did I do to make you all so angry with me?”

“You don’t even touch us like you touch him. You don’t talk to us. You don’t play around with us. It’s like you don’t even care to be in this pack,” Jirou walks to be in front of her. “And, how could you do that to Shinsou?”

“What did I do to Shinsou?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re courting with him! What makes you-”

“What’s courting?” and that quells the anger of her pack. Aizawa told them she was behind in their world but, they didn’t think she was this far behind. They just sit their staring at her, making her feel even more uncomfortable than before. “Could you all stop looking at me like this?”

She chirps to let them know how she’s feeling, causing two overprotective alphas to burst through the entrance, their soothing scents makes her shoulders slouch in a pleased manner.

“WHAT DID YOU ALL DO?” Mirio pulls her to his chest, Shinsou coming to her front to rub the nape of her neck which makes her mewl embarrassingly. She hides her face in Shinsou’s neck, Mirio rubbing her nape as well. She’s essentially sandwiched between them; it’s more comforting than what she thought it could be.

“SHE DOESNT KNOW WHAT COURTING IS! YU BOTH CAN’T KEEP THIS UP! SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THIS IS,” Jirou tries to snatch her from the arms only to be snapped at and pushed roughly. “SHE DOESN’T KNOW.”

“Then, we’ll teach her.”

—————————————————————————-

@sinclairsamess @sakurashortstack

[bookocd]

Velaris University

So this is my first try at a college AU and while it was super fun to write, I would love for some feedback if anyone has any! Also please let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates or have prompts for this series (I will def need them) 

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it :)

Here is my masterlist of fanfics is anyone wants it! 

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Chapter 1:

“I just think it’s stupid.” The entire car trip had been the same conversation playing on repeat. I was getting a headache. 

“I know exactly what you think Nesta. You’ve only said it about twenty times.” 

“I don’t understand why anyone would go to college with a boyfriend.” 

“You don’t actually think that, you just hate Tamlin.” I was rubbing temples fiercely, and let out a sigh of relief as the Velaris University sign came into focus ahead of us. 

“He lost my respect when he threatened to break up with you if you didn’t follow him to SCC.” The moment I told her, I regretted it and I couldn’t help my frown from deepening.

“Nes you need to let that go, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was just upset. We were both upset.”

The fight I had with my boyfriend flashed in my mind, and I had to stop myself from physically cringing. 

I was hugging myself with tears running down my face. 

“Feyre, did you really think that I would be happy?” His voice was quiet, like it was also waiting for the inevitable explosion. We were standing in the greenhouse that was connected to his families mansion. This was the place they had shared their first kiss, their first time having sex, and also their first I love you’s. A thought crossed my mind that this would also be the space we had out first breakup.

“This-s program is m-my dream Tam. It’s what I want to do with my l-life.” It was hard to get the words out through the sobs. 

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Suddenly there were plants on the ground and one of the tables was on its side. I backed up, the sobs increasing. He turned to me with a feral look on his face, and yelled, “I thought this was our life! You’re being so fucking selfish.”

I tried to stammer out an apology, but he put his hand out to silence me, a command.

“If you do this, we are over.” The glow from the greenhouse light made him look angelic, with his long golden hair and perfectly angled face. This would have been the perfect picture if he wasn’t glowering. He waited for a minute with his chest moving up and down with his quick breaths. He was waiting for me to change my mind, but I wasn’t going to. 

He finally realized what my silence meant, and kicked over another table of flowers. A pot landed right at my feet and shattered instantly. It reminded me of my heart. He retreated into his house, slamming the door behind him. 

“Being upset is not an excuse to be a dick.”  Her comment brought me back to the present.  “And it scares me that you think it does” she continued. I wasn’t going to tell her that it scared me too. I also wasn’t going to tell her, or anyone else, about his more violent reactions. I just kept telling myself that those responses were not directed toward me. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I love him, we are together, and that’s all I have to say.” She turned her blue Chevy into the parking lot of Apartment Hall D, which was where I would be living for the next year. I could see the whites of her knuckles as she gripped the steering wheel, readying herself for another round. Before she could start again, I asked.  “Can we just unpack the car please?”

Her glaring eyes and stiff posture showed how hard it was for her to drop the topic, but she ended up shaking her head, parking the truck, and opening the car door.

—

Nesta and I climbed the three flights of stairs to apartment 304, and I wondered if there was roof access.

“Feyre the key,” Nesta’s labored breath and arms full of boxes, had me reaching into my purse and digging for my keys. Finally finding them and feeling a glare on the back of my neck, I opened the door to my new home. 

Walking into the open concept apartment, I was very happy over my decision to not live in a dorm. The only reason I could afford this was because of my scholarship, but I wanted space to paint and I wanted Tamlin to have the ability to visit whenever he wanted. The kitchen was directly to the left of the door, with yellow cabinets, a large oven and fridge, and a large white granite island. The apartment was furnished, so the room beyond the kitchen had a medium sized couch with blue cushions with a navy armchair next to it. Both the couch and chair were facing a white wall where a wooden TV stand sat, which was empty if the occupants couldn’t afford one. This occupant could not. Past the living area, a glass door led out to a small deck that had a view of the whole campus. I pushed open the door and felt the morning breeze hit my face. The sun was rising and the light reflected off all the windows, which ate every shadow in sight. The University was almost golden. 

Reluctantly I tore myself from the beautiful sight.

Turning back I went looking for my bedroom. A small laundry room and pantry directly next to the kitchen. A small hallway showed three more doors, two on the far side and one on the closest side. One was an empty bed room, with a spacious closet, a bed frame with a mattress, a small dresser, and a worn wooden desk and chair in the corner. The room was small and the furniture was old, but the view from the window was worth it. It was the opposite side from the deck, so I was looking out onto the city of Velaris. The ocean was visible and so were the mountains that surrounded the north side of the city. The morning sun was illuminating the water making it sparkle, and I knew that I would live in a shoe if it had this view. 

My randomly assigned roommate was no where to be seen, but the next room was already filled to the brink with clothing, makeup, and jewelry. I was excited to hopefully have a friend I could borrow some clothes from, even though half of it I could never pull off. Nesta, however, took one look at the dresser, which was overflowing with lingerie, and scoffed. Her scoff was covering the embarrassed look and blush now covering her face. I had to hide my snort with a cough. My sister being uncomfortable was very rare, so the fact that underwear is what caused it was fucking hilarious. I immediately got out my phone and sent a text to Tam. 

NESTA IS SCARED OF UNDERWEAR!!

haha mens or womens?

Apparently women’s

knew she had to be afraid of something

maybe you should change your wardrobe to just underwear just to make her uncomfortable 

i would fully support that

Pig lol

I smiled at my phone, at the semblance of normalcy between us. 

I glanced into the small bathroom across the hall. There was a shower, toilet, and a nice double sink. One half of said sink was covered by perfumes, curling irons, and other hair products. The colors were so vivid and varied that they stood out from the dull white bathroom, like paint splatter on a white canvas. 

After our tour of the apartment, my sister was silent as we carried up bags and boxes from the bed of her truck to my room. After everything was pilled into my small room, and a box of kitchen supplies was left sitting on the island, Nesta made a gesture for me to follow her back downstairs. She lived in a small single bedroom apartment across campus. She had told me that she needed her own space as a third year, so we couldn’t save money and just live together. I didn’t humor myself into thinking that her answer wasn’t utter bullshit.

When we stepped out of the building and into the warm day, I found myself saying, “Thank you… for driving me and helping me bring up all my stuff.” 

As she was climbing back into her truck, she hesitated. The hard look she pinned me with over her shoulder, had me bracing for the impact of her inevitable words. 

“Don’t come crying to me Feyre when he finally does something that being upset doesn’t excuse.” 

Nesta always was the worst at goodbyes. 

—

Even though classes didn’t start for another 3 days, I started unpacking my art supplies and organizing them into my desk drawers. I had only just started when I heard the front door open. 

“Dude I can’t believe you got a rando.” The low voice was scratchy, sexy, and loud enough to hear, even with my door closed. 

“I’m getting bored with you guys, so I need new friends.” I heard at least 3 different sets of laughter, all of them male. The female, who was my new roommate, had such a soft song like voice and I knew she was probably beautiful. I suddenly became self conscious of myself with my brown hair tied back in a low bun and no makeup on.

“What if she’s insane?”

“What if she doesn’t like you?”

“What if she doesn’t like us?”

“Can all of you guys just shut up?”

The bickering continued until my roommate must have seen one of my boxes, because then she started to kick them out. 

“Get out. Get out!” Laughing started and ended abruptly with the slamming of the door. I heard the door open once more. 

“Mor you know we are just screwing with you. I really do want you to have a friend here, especially after everything that happened last year. Bring her over at some point so we can meet her. Love you cuz.” I had never thought a voice could be beautiful, but that was the only word the would do it justice. That voice would haunt my dreams. 

I tried to forget the voice and focus on meeting my new roommate. 

A small knock had me jumping up and running across the room. As I was reaching to open the door, it was opened for me and hit me in the face. 

“Shit,” I huffed as I stumbled back holding my nose. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” I uncovered my hands to look at the girl who had just nailed me in the face. She was gorgeous. Her long golden hair was in loose ringlets, striking against her perfectly tanned skin. She was wearing a skin-tight red tank top with a very low v-neck paired with leather pants. Her eyes were big, brown, and beautiful, which matched the rest of her symmetrical face and gold jewelry adorned her neck, ears, and fingers. 

“Well you’re hot,” I breathed. Her responding smile was so genuine I was sure that anyone who saw it would have to smile too. 

She stood straight, hands on her hips, and asked, “How hard did I hit you?” I laughed at her response, because there was so no way she was oblivious to her attractiveness. 

I finally stood up, the pain in my face fading, and extended my hand to her. 

“My name is Feyre. It’s really nice to meet you.” Her soft manicured hand felt near fragile in my paint stained and blistered one. 

“I’m Morrigan, but everyone calls me Mor. I’m gonna guess that you’re an art major?” She sent a pointed look toward my mountain of art supplies. 

“Good guess. What about you?”

“I’m a second year phycology major. So be honest, how is your face?”

I laughed and shook my head. “It’s fine. I think I was shocked more than actually hurt.”

“I swear that will be the only time I physically hurt you. I’ve been told that I get on people’s nerves, so I can’t say anything about the your sanity.” We had only known each other for a couple of minutes, but I knew that I liked this girl. This was the type of girl I never got to be friends with growing up. For many many reasons.  

She continued, “My friends will literally die when they hear this story.” 

“Well if our relationship works out than it’ll also be a great story to tell the grandkids,” I said trying not to think of her cousins voice at the mention of her friends. 

“Ha ha very funny. Actually we were all going out to—” She was cut off by my phone. I apologized and turned toward the sounds and found it lying on my bed. 

Incoming Call from Tamlin

I looked at her with a cringe and explained, “It’s my boyfriend. I have nothing going on tomorrow. Would you maybe want to…”  Her growing smile had me continuing. “Hang out with me?” 

“Yes yes! I can show you around campus, the best shops in Velaris, and introduce you to my friends.” My face was hurting from my own smile. I nodded at her and my phone stopped going off. Even the fight I knew that would be inevitable from me not answering his phone call, wasn’t enough to stop me from smiling at my new roommate. 

She turned and headed toward the door, but turned back before going through it. 

“I’m really excited for tomorrow,” she said with a curt nod. Then she was out the door before I could return the sentiment. 

I picked up my phone to redial my boyfriends number, but Mor poked her head in again. 

“Oh and I think you’re hot too.” With a wink she was gone. I laughed out loud and all of a sudden I felt ready for the incoming year, because I now had a friend to help me through it. 

—

After all of my research on Velaris, I came to one final conclusion: the nights were supposedly epic. And in the wake of a day spent unpacking, I was ready to see it for myself. 

While I was tired from my non-fight with Tamlin, I also found myself restless. The whole conversation was Tam forcing himself to not be mad and instead just making our talk draining and fake. I finally told him that I needed to go and get some books for school so I could get off the phone. 

Things would get better. 

I forced the phone call out of my head and focused on something exciting and new. 

Mor was gone before I could ask about the roof access in the building, but I decided to go and find out for myself. I walked into the stairwell and headed up. This building had ten floors, so I was breathless when I finally reached the top. An unmarked door came into my view and as I pushed it open a rush of fresh air filled my lungs. 

The roof was bare, except for an air unit, two beach chairs, and a railing around the edge, but I found myself not looking at the roof at all. 

The sky was incredible. The stars were brighter than I had ever seen, and the city was alive in front of me. I instantly found myself at the railing. The apartment building was on the edge of campus, so from one side all you could see was the school, but on the other side the city and ocean was the only thing in view. I couldn’t peel my eyes from the sight. 

People were laughing and strolling through the cobblestone streets and lights of all different colors were coming out of windows and doors throughout the city. 

The city was alive. 

Throughout my life I had never felt at home or even wanting to be part of one, but I had this feeling that Velaris was made for me. Or maybe I was made for it. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” I jumped at the voice behind me. I somehow lost my footing and my feet flew forward. I landed on my butt with a thud.

“Holy fuck! You scared the shit out of me.” I started to turn toward the stranger while on the ground, ready to be livid. My heartbeat increased to unhealthy levels as my eyes met ones of violet. The man in front of me was something forged from my dreams. His black hair was made of the night sky above us and his chiseled features looked carved out of stone. He was wearing blue jeans and a grey crewneck, which seemed plain, but nothing on this man could ever be plain. While I couldn’t see his body, I knew that he was fit, he filled out his jeans like they were tailored for him. 

He had slowly moved forward, like he was going toward a cornered animal, and when he was directly in front of me, he held a hand out to help me up. The laughter in his eyes and the smirk on his face took my focus away from his attractiveness and kick started my anger again. 

“Don’t look so upset love, most girls fall head over heels for me.” 

“Are you sure they aren’t falling while trying to run away?” His eyes lit up in challenge, but I dismissed him by jumping up and turning toward the city again. 

He did not get the message and I felt him lounging on the rail next to me. I glanced to my left and he wasn’t staring toward the ocean, he was staring at me. 

“Could you stop that,” I snapped. It was apparently the wrong thing to say. His eyes shone brighter than the stars above us. 

“What is your name love?” 

I put my elbows on the rail and leaned forward as I sighed out, “Feyre.”

“And why are you up here all alone Feyre?” 

“That kinda sounded a little creepy.”

His laugh filled my soul and I smiled slightly. “I’ve never been called creepy.”

“And what do people usually call you?” 

“Sexy, amazing, smart, endowed—”

“You’re certainly full of yourself,” I cut him off. 

An ocean kissed wind blew my hair backwards. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the salty air. We fell into a comfortable silence. I’m not sure how long we stood there, watching the city from afar.  I was unsure why I felt so safe, standing on a roof with a complete stranger. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw that I had a message from Tamlin.

i’m sorry for earlier baby. i love you and ill talk to you in the morning.

His apology made me think I was doing something wrong. I started to retreat and walk backwards toward the roof door. Purple eyes followed my movements with an unreadable expression. 

“Are you running from me Feyre.” The smirk was gone and I felt a pang in my gut.

“No. It’s just getting late and I should probably get back downstairs.”

“I can walk you—”

“No!” I realized how loud it came out when his mouth turned downwards. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around…” 

Oh my god I never asked his name. I grimaced, and inwardly smacked my palm on my forehead. I looked to him for assistance. He made long strides until he was inches from me, my back hitting the door. It was then I realized just how tall this man was, I was almost looking straight up.

“Rhysand,” was all he said. 

“Okay nice to meet you. I have to go. Not that I’m scared. Or nervous.” Cringing as I rambled, I felt behind me for the door handle. When I found it, I pulled it. This backfired on me by pushing me forward into Rhysand. 

Chest to chest, I hoped he couldn’t feel my heart beating. His breath caressed my cheek, I couldn’t help but shutter. Seeing his eyes widen and flash with desire, I awkwardly squeaked out a goodbye and all but sprinted down the stairs. 

I didn’t stop running until I got to my apartment and then into my own room. I fell down onto the bed ready for this whole night to be over. I answered Tamlin’s text with a simple I love you, turned my phone off, and then I threw it on the ground. 

You did nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong. 

I found myself repeating the sentence over and over again. I knew I had done nothing wrong, but I couldn’t help the feeling that I did. Moving to the ground, I sat below my window, opening it slightly, letting the sounds of the ocean lull me to sleep. The only thing calming enough to do so. That and the name of the man who I couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Rhysand 

Thanks for reading!!! xoxo

[foreveransparrow]

Fairy Fear Week 2020 - Day 2

Hello, everyone! This is my submission for Fairy Fear Week 2020 run by @ftguildevents. I’ll post a short story everyday of the event. All short stories can be read on its own, however, i did my best to create one big story through the collection, so make sure to read all of them in sequence, if you’re interested in that 😊 This is my second time participing in an event and my third time trying to write a fanfic, so all feedback is highly appreciated, since i’m certain i’ll need lots of it haha Anyway, without futher ado... Happy Halloween!

DAY 2: TRADITIONAL. PROMPT: SPIRITS

“Ms. Heartfilia, if you are in need of a new wrist watch, may I suggest the Horologium brand?  They say you will never be late with one of those…”

The embarrassment Lucy felt prevented her of saying anything. In fact, it prevented her from doing anything at all, considering she must have stood at the door completely frozen for a whole minute, until her creative writing teacher, Mr. Capricorn, instructed her to sit down and get started on the assignment. The fear of being called out for a third time on a row seemed to do the trick as Lucy promptly did as told.

While she took her notebook and pencil case out of her backpack, she looked around the classroom. With ease, she spotted Levy McGarden a couple of rows to the right. Although her friend was one of the shortest students at Fairy Tail High, her vibrant blue hair made her stand out in any crowd, especially with the orange bandanna she made a point to wear every day to school since October started. Levy said it was her way to ensure Halloween was celebrated to its fullest, which meant, as the days went by, hinting the upcoming holiday even more with black-painted nails, spider rings and countless other subtle references.

Lucy was worried Levy might have been upset they didn’t get to meet before class, but one glance at Levy made her realized she would have to sort that out later. Levy was writing frantically, so intensely focused on her task that her nose tip was almost touching the paper, which gave Lucy absolutely no chance of getting her attention. Lucy sighed in defeat and tried to follow her friend’s lead to get some work done. Apparently, Levy wasn’t the only one drawing inspiration from Halloween, since the blackboard challenged the students to reinterpret the classic ghost genre with their own personal touch. Lucy reminisced about an old story her mother used to tell her. It was one of her earliest memories, if not the very first one she had. It was about the stars.

It was told each star in the sky represented a spirit from another realm. For a long time, it was believed the spirits didn’t take any interest in humankind. Being ancient beings with countless time in their hands, it seemed there was no reason why they would. It was certain that whatever admiration humankind felt for the stars would remain forever unrequited. That was until a little girl changed it all. Like many others before her, she was deeply in love with the stars. She wondered what they looked like, what they dreamed about and if they fell in love, even if not with humankind. However, unlike everyone else, she had never asked for her questions to be answered. In fact, she had never asked for anything from the spirits. She didn’t mind not knowing.

On a faithful night, her father woke her up in the middle of the night. He said her mother was calling for her and that what she had to say could not wait. The little girl was confused, nevertheless, she followed him. Her mother was laid down in bed. She tried to sit up when she saw her daughter, but failed to do so. For some reason that the little girl could not reckon, her mother was very weak. With a push on the back from her father, she got closer to her mother. From close distance, she realized her mother had sweat dripping from her forehead and that her breathing was erratic. Frightened, the little girl took a step back, which didn’t go unnoticed by her mother. Standing her hand towards her daughter, she finally spoke.

“Do you fear the stars, my love?” The little girl nodded in denial. “Then there is no reason for you to fear me now, because I’m merely becoming a star.”

The little girl said nothing. Instead, she reached for her mother’s hand and held it tight to her heart. When the sun rose, her mother was gone, just like all the other stars from the night sky. When night time came again, the little girl went to her backyard and, for the first time ever, wished upon a star. She wished the spirits knew what an honor it was to have her mother beside them. She wished they knew the only enviable thing about them was that they had countless time to be with her. She wished they knew nothing about love so they would learn from her mother what true love really is. The little girl wished as much as she grieved and as hard as she cried.

“We know, my friend.”

A deep voice resonated in the air. The tallest man the little girl had ever seen stood in front of her. His skin was a light blue and his eyes were dark red. His white mustache was so long it reached his broad shoulders. Two horns adorned his head and, placed between them, there was a golden star. Everything about his appearance was intimidating, but the little girl felt no danger coming from him.

“Do you?” She confronted him.

Her boldness made him laugh. “Yes, we do.” He assured her.

And as simple as that, the little girl believed him.

“I brought you something.” He showed her a silver key.

“What does it open?”

“A gate.” And with that being said, the man disappeared.

It would take years for the little girl to grasp what had happened. She was the first celestial gatekeeper to ever exist, people capable of summoning the spirits from their realm to the human. It was an honor granted to very few of those who wished upon the stars not for themselves, but for the ones they loved and cared. And when it came their time to join the spirits as a star, they would be welcomed as old friends, as if they were the same little girl who came before them.

That story was Lucy’s favorite and even though, as a teenager, she still had many years ahead of her to change her mind about it, she was confident that no other story would be quite special as that one. Lucy decided to use the tale’s premise of a world where the celestial spirits could be summoned to earth by humans as the background concept of her writing assignment.

When class ended, she was quite pleased with her first draft, in light of the short amount of time she had to work with after her delayed arrival. It was about the banishing of the zodiac sign of Leo, whose exile from the celestial realm had slowly drained his vital energy until he was a mere ghost waiting for his own vanishing. In her second draft, she was hoping to explore with more details the reasons and actions which led to his dismissal and assure her character had a redemption scene in which he safely returned to the celestial realm before ending the story. What could she say, ghost story or not, she owed to a certain little girl to guarantee all stars were where they rightfully belonged.

[jjsjuiceboxx]

LOVE TRIANGLE

POPExREADERxTOPPER

REQUESTED FOR: @letsgofullkook

SUMMARY: a love triangle between readerxtopper and readerxpope

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: underage drinking, smoking, cuss words, angst.

︎A/N- revamping my stuff so I’m just editing for decoration and stuff to make it pop more and draw attention ( no changes to the actual fic ), happy reading :).

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

You were currently on hms pogue with John B, Kie, pope, and JJ you were zoning out looking how the suns reflection could be seen from the water of the marsh, you were pulled out of your thoughts when Kie started to talk about the kegger tonight at the boneyard.

“ok so who is going to bring what?“ Kie asked looking to everyone expectantly.

Across the boat you can see JJ smirk “you all already know I’ve got the weed.”

“I’ll have the kegs filled up and take them both to the boneyard.” John B stated

You were about to speak but was cut off suddenly when you felt a cold chill approaching, “hey are you ok y/n?” Pope asked you slightly concerned.

“Yeah dont worry Pope I just got a cold chill suddenly it’s gone now tho.” You smiles sweetly at him for even noticing and then instantly be concerned Pope eyed you suspiciously he could still see chill pumps on your arms so he walked to his bag and pulled out his hoodie, his favorite one that he won’t even let John b or JJ wear.

Instead of Pope handing it to you he put it over your shoulders letting you slip your arms into them then he zipped it up for you, you blushed at the action heart pounding pope smiled at you.

“Really she can wear your hoodie without asking but when we ask nicely you don’t let us? Man I even say please I never say please!” JJ explained shocked

“She isn’t a cluts like John b and doesn’t spill beer everywhere and I cannot have you making my hoodie reek of weed, besides it’s Y/N we are talking about she doesn’t need to ask” Pope state’s non challenger

“Wow pope you’re a changed man.” Kie said laughing at the end and sending a wink your way

You were close with all the pogues but you and kie were the closest gossiping with one another about kooks and the boys while you did face masks and painted each other’s nails she knew you had a crush on pope which is odd considering he isn’t your type but he is so smart and it’s almost mysterious and he isn’t afraid to tell random people he wants to be a coroner and then proceed to tell them facts about what happens after you die and you couldn’t help but catch feelings.

“Wow pope you’re a changed man.” Kie said laughing at the end and sending a wink your way.

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

You and the rest of the pogues were now at the boneyard setting up for the kegger kie brought chips and a speaker to blast music, John b had the kegs and was setting them up, JJ sat down on a big fallen tree with his small contribution his weed, pope had a cooler with ice and more drinks inside while you carried a beach chair and solo cups kie also had you pick up straws for some of the beer in the cooler and it HAD to be recyclable.

“Y/N you know even at parties we have to save the turtles and other animals and our only earth.” She said seriously when you went to object she gave you a stern look.

“Yeah yeah....right the straws” you said kinda scared

“recyclable straws recyclable is important” she hollered after you now you were putting the straws on the table and putting solo cups out to be easily grabbed when you saw a few kooks show up a little earlier probably to set up their own beers and what not

But you couldn’t help but think Topper would be here yes he was dating Sarah but he always flirted with you before and during the relationship you at first hated it but one day when he stopped you realized you miss it so you decided the next time you saw him you would flirt first and so you did he then offered to get you a coffee and eat and you really got to know topper not kook topper, he hated pogues and was rude to them but he has never said anything bad about you atleast not to your face he always bullied the others.

As more people showed up you started to get anxious about toppers arrival you knew he was coming he always does the question was when ? And do you go up and talk to him ? When it’s just him and you you guys always talk about real stuff and you see that topper is just like the rest of us just slightly more perfect and put together.

You decided to start getting drunk to calm your nerves once you had two cups you were tipsy still sober enough to remember things and control yourself but a lot more relaxed and care free you saw pope walk away from taking to a girl and decided to dance with him.

“Pope come dance with me I love this song” you said cheerfully while spinning around

“Fine but If you get sick from spinning I’ll be mad” he laughed grabbing your hand

You and pope danced for 30 mins or something laughing and joking around and then suddenly you caught a glimpse of a tall tan boy with frosted tips along with Sarah and Kelce right by his side a slow song was playing and pope had you facing the entrance to the boneyard suddenly you and topper made eye contact he Gave you a slight nod in which you returned with a smile but it suddenly shifted when he looked away shaking his head so pulled back from pope and started taking his hoodie off

“I’m getting hot from all the Dancing I’m gunna grab a drink and cool off” you told him Pope pulled you into a tight hug that lasted about a minute.

“Thank you for dancing with me I’ve always wanted to slow dance with a pretty girl.” Pope stated shyly scratching the back of his head.

“Aww I’ll slow dance with you anytime handsome” you said blushing getting on your tip toes and kissing his cheek letting it linger for a bit you back off seeing him blush under the moonlight you handed him his hoodie and walked to get a drink.

While waiting in the line for a drink you looked up to see Sarah climbing a red buoy and Kelce and topper trying to get her down safely you looked away not wanting to catch their eyes. You hadn’t noticed but topper gave up as Sarah was being rather difficult while kelce climber up with her to pry her hands off the top of the buoy.

You felt a light tap on your shoulder prying your eyes away from John b trying to impress tourons by juggling some beers, your eyes met a pair of eyes you were all familiar with, topper.

“Hey there ken of the outerbanks, hows it hanging in the Barbie dream house?” You questioned amused

Topper laughed at your nickname you gave him “it isn’t the Barbie dream house when she isn’t my Barbie you’re” topper declared

You and topper during many of your hang outs tho you like to calls them private dates where you just talk and laugh he was wearing a bright salmon polo and khaki shorts with a belt and some sperrberrys to match and let out a little chuckle and said he looked like your old ken doll you have “accidently” taken from school, oops.

Topper laughed “ok ok fine I’ll take it but you have to be my Barbie” he said laughing

“Ok I’ll be the Barbie to you ken”

And hence the day the nicknames had been born. By this time it was your turn to get your drink topper took your cup and filled it up and gave it back to you while he did his.

“Wow who knew topper Thornton could be such a gentlemen” you mocked

“Oh haha you’re so funny aren’t you Barbie” topper said sarcastically

You were about to come up with a remark when he suddenly turned to you stopping you in your tracks looking at you seriously.

“Hey can we like uh talk somewhere?” He questioner awkwardly.

“Yeah of course top Ik a good place” you motioned him to follow you in a set of bushes near the woods looking around once you got there for any horny drunk teens only to find none.

“Is everything ok topper? You’re never really serious unless something is wrong” you said worrying you know a conversation with topper was serious when you said his name and not a nickname.

“I know you’re friends with pope and I’m with Sarah but I can’t talk to Sarah or rafe and Kelce the way I can with you I feel like the real me I had forgotten about and you help me find it again, I don’t know I guess I got slightly jealous seeing you dance with Pope and laughing while wearing his hoodie” topper said quickly

You put your hands on either side of his cheek making him look you in the eyes you stared at him in an adoring way “topper I feel the same but I’m a pogue you’re a kook even though we understand one another not everyone can see it that way, I mean rafe could unfriend you Sarah wouldn’t be around and I don’t want you to lose that because of me” you said softly

“I know I know it just sucks because I do really like you I want To be with you, don’t get me wrong I like Sarah too but I feel pressured because of my parents saying and putting words into my head makes me wonder if I really like her or if I just think I do, but one thing for sure I know I like you” topper stated stepping closer

By this time Sarah was looking for topper him being gone far to long for “getting a drink” when she neared the keg topper was no where insight “hey kie I know you hate me but have you seen topper? He was getting drinks and now he is gone” Sarah explained looking around

“ I saw him walk down the beach following someone too dark to tell who, I know what you’re thinking that I’m saying that to upset you like or whatever but I’m not” kie defended rolling her eyes.

“No I can tell when your lying I believe you thank you” Sarah said walking off in the direction joe pointed too.

“Topper I like you too but I don’t know how this could work and I don’t want to hurt you saying this but I also like pope but we don’t flirt nearly as much as we do he doesn’t know I like him” you said looking down not wanting to hurt him

“ hey hey it’s ok friends who spend all the time together are bound to catch feelings whether it’s one sided or not I’m not upset thank you for being honest” he said smiling softly tucking some hair behind your ear you smiled leaning into his soft touch.

Pope was a little further down the beach then Sarah was pope sat in front of the fire with a marshmallow on a stick while John b laughed at pope trying to teach JJ how to roast a perfect marshmallow for the worlds best s’mores, “JJ you need to hold both hands one on top of the other at the bottom of the stick and then push your marshmallow down at the top till the stick poked through the marshmallow so it won’t fall into the fire and waste the marshmallow, then you hold it just above the flames. No not like that it’s too close you will catch the marshmallow on fire....again. Now you wait 5 mins then rotate it to the other side and then wait 5 mins and do the same all over so it gets a perfect brown shade don’t catch it on fire because one it’s bitter two it is a lot more hot and three some sparks could be left on it that you can’t see and will burn the shit out of your tongue possible 2nd degree burn that grants a hospital visit now you see mine is perfectly brown on all sides now you take your graham crackers and put the marshmallow on one then the chocolate then you sandwich it all together like so and bam you’ve got yourself the worlds best s’more” Pope said with a chefs kiss after he did a technical tutorial on the proper way to make a smore for the poor boy who has never learned how.

“Eww mine looks like toe cheese” JJ said grimacing.

“ I don’t want to know why you know that man.” John b said watching it play out amusingly.

“Just eat it JJ it’s good the best ever honestly, off topic have you seen y/n I havnt seen her in 30 mins” pope asked curiously

“Aww pope you have a crush on the baby pogue” JJ said teasingly

“JJ leave him alone who cares if he likes her damn, but uh I saw her walk the way” John b Pointed in the direction you had went

Pope stood up nodding his head going in that direction to look for the girl he was soo in love with still ahead of Sarah.

You could feel the tension between you and topper being so close to one another he started to lean on slowly and you did too not being in control of your body you were so lost in his eyes your lips finally touched and it was slow and passionate and it felt like time has stopped just as it was getting more heated you heard a twig snap and looked behind topper to see a wide eyed pope standing there.

“ y/n....what’s going on why are you kissing topper ???” Pope asks shocked

“I..I” you stuttered startled that pope who you like caught you kissing another guy you also like

“Topper you there?” You heard Sarah’s voice from behind a tree

“He’s right here” Pope deadpanned looking you straight in the eye

“ topper there yo- what are you two doing?” Sarah asked confused

“We were just talking babe.” Topper said softly

“Yeah If by talking you mean tongues in each other’s mouths” pope said angrily

Sarah stares between you and topper shocked “is..is this true topper?” Sarah asked quietly when topper looked down and didn’t say anything she knew her answer.

“Wow and after all I’ve told you about my past and you do this, you told me you loved me” Sarah said walking away.

“Pope look I ca-“ you were cut off by pope speaking

“No no you don’t get to talk right now, I thought you liked me? I know you never said it but I can pick up some ques, I gave you my favorite hoodie so you were warm I danced with you and I stood for an hour waiting for you and you never showed. Was I just a toy for you to use when topper isn’t here?” Pope asked sad

“What no of course not I like you a lot Pope I really do, but I also like topper as well and I’m so confused I don’t know why or how anything would work with any of us with the no pogue on pogue macking rule and the whole kook vs pogue thing I...I just don’t know” you said ashamed

“Wow, you were just talking shit about topper the other day and now you like him? I’m sorry y/n I can’t do this right now you don’t like me because if you did you wouldn’t have has another guy so pick topper” Pope said tears in his eyes leaving the seen fast.

You looked at topper tears running down your face he immediately wrapped you In his arms rubbing your head as a loud sob shot out of your body and a bunch of oh my gods.

“Hey hey it’s ok just let him cool down and then you can speak it him rationally I’m not mad you like us both I get it all I ask is that you give me a chance and Pope too and then when you’re ready you can choose who you want or choose neither of us” topper said reassuringly.

You pulled out of his embrace nodding your head as you wiped your tears away planning on what to tell pope when everything is calmed down.

[shigarakis-fifth-hand]

MomoJirou + TodoDeku Date!!

Requested by @turtle-deku / Ava!!

Momo ran around her dorm, doing her makeup and hair and then redoing her hair and then painting her nails last minute and then finally quitting to curl her hair instead.

“Momo, you know that we were supposed to be downstairs two minutes ago, right?”Jirou asked, looking at her girlfriend. Momo wore a maroon velvet dress and black pump heels with her hair down and curled.

Jirou, on the other hand, wore just a white tank top, black jeans, and then her Doc Martins. It was simple, but edgy as always. “I know, but everyone important will be at my fathers meeting! Endeavor and so many other pro heroes! People from modeling angencies, and all of my dad’s rich business friends.”

Momo looked at Jirou before sighing and smiling. “How do I look?” She asked, twirling as Jirou got up. “Beautiful as always.” They kissed, before Momo grabbed her purse and opened the door. As the ladies walked out, they saw the other couple coming out of their door at the exact time.

A few minutes earlier...

“Midoryia... you look fine.” Todoroki complained, standing up against the wall as Deku ran around, unfloofing and refloofing his hair like a mad man. “Shotoooo. Your entire family will be there! And All Might! And- and- all those News Reporters! I have to look good so I don’t embarrass you!”

Todoroki shook his head, smiling at his adorable boyfriend before grabbing him into a hug. “You never don’t look cute.” Todoroki kissed his forehead before grabbing his wallet, Izuku’s hand, and then walking out.

The two couples saw each other, and smiled. “How are we doing kiddos?” Jirou ruffled Midoryia’s hair as Momo fixed his tie. “You look stunning little broccoli.” Momo giggled, turning to Shoto. “You nervous?” she asked, smiling sadly at her red-and-white-haired friend. “Of course not. It’s only that I’ll be sitting with my father, boyfriend, and a bunch of reporters asking me questions and watching my every move.”

Izuku smiled, grabbing his boyfriend’s hand. “You’ll be okay Shoto. You both will be.” Izuku reassured him and the raven-haired girl. 

“Exactly! You two were raised for this kind of stuff! All you have to do is act natural and you’ll meet your parent’s expectations perfectly.” Jirou smiled, raising her fist in the air as Momo laughed nervously, fidgeting with her phone. 

“I hope you’re right.” She tried to smile, but the mix of her teeth chattering and her cheeks blushing made her look like a total mess, even if she had makeup and a fancy dress on. “I think we should head to the movie. Maybe you can pull yourself together in the car. We’ll have a short 15 minutes to prepare.” 

Shoto suggested as the group nodded, grabbing the hand of their partner and heading out to the limo. Passing Denki and Mina binging on the hot Cheetos, and Bakugo giving them a suspicious glare, they walked into the long, black limo that awaited them. 

Shoto got the window seat, then Deku, then Jirou, and then Momo lastly, closing the car door behind her. Yet Shoto was incorrect, the 15 minutes were not short. Momo and Jirou went over the right away to hold things, how to speak to her dad’s friends, and how to walk in the heels without kicking her feet up whenever she felt uncalmly. 

Shoto on the other hand spent the time burying his face into Izuku’s neck, kissing his lips, and wishing he could hide away from the world with his little ‘Zuki. He knew he couldn't kiss Deku’s neck though, as it was covered in foundation to hide the hickeys from last night when Deku had comforted Todoroki’s anxiety through passionate... hugging.

“You’ll be okay Baby... You’re going to do great. I love you no matter what, and you don’t need to act any different around these people. They’re trying to impress you, the father of the number one hero. You don’t need to act any different.” Izuku whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, calming him while giving an amazing scalp massage.

 As Shoto met Izuku’s eye contact, he instantly melted in his fingers and realized how much he loved Izuku. 

“Now, here’s the deal. There will be reporters here so we must stick to the strict list of things we can talk about dealing with UA that Aizawa gave us, and we must make sure to talk as much about each other as possible. Talking about ourselves will come off as self-centered, but we should promote each other to the public. We don’t want a bad reputation as people.”

 Momo explained as Jirou giggled, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek to shut her up. “That’ll keep you quiet for a second. Don’t worry guys, it’s not that hard. Momo has been teaching me how to do this fancy stuff for days, and honestly, it’s common knowledge. Follow my league.” She winked at Deku before looking at a nervous-looking Todoroki. Reporters... oh god. Todoroki had a sudden flashback that brought him pain to think of.

“Now, tell me young man, what do you want to do with your life? Your father says you will follow in his footsteps and eventually become the number one hero. Is this true?” The hot, male reporter asked him, shoving a microphone in his blushed face. The lights were blinding and made him hot, and the cute guy in front of him was making him go insane. “Damn.” He blurted out, looking him up and down before staring at the camera in shock from his own words. “Haha, thank you. I can only guess that you are apart of the LGBT community as well. Do you pro-” 

The rest of the reporter’s words were blurred as Shoto saw his father from a far, staring bullets at him. He had just revealed his sexuality to the world, and could only be left to get more sweaty and embarrassed before being able to leave the reporter and cameraman behind. For weeks, magazines were filled with information about Shoto’s words, what his sexual orientation could possibly be, and who is possible love interests could be. 

It took a week before Izuku could drag him out of the depression he fell into, and that was by kissing him.

It was accurate that Shoto wasn’t good with reporters, and Izuku knew that too. In interviews, Shoto had called his father a bastard, had mispronounced his own name, and had once had said that he didn’t want friends in UA. “You’re going to be find Shoto. If anything happens, I’ll be right there to steal the show from you.” Shoto smiled, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek. 

“Oh goodness, we’re here!” Momo opened the car door and stepped out, everyone grabbing their partner’s hand and being met by a hundred different camera flashes, all of them blinding the poor teens. Momo grabbed Jirou and pulled her inside the building, running even in heels. Todoroki, instead, grabbed Izuku, holding him by his side and placing his hand in front of Izuku’s eyes, saving him from being blinded. 

“No comment... no comment...” Todoroki murmured, walking as this was normal for being the 1# hero’s son and a UA student himself. Holding Izuku tightly by the waist, he could only hope that a photo of them would be on the cover of at least one magazine. 

How cute... Once they got inside, Todoroki was happily relived to see that although the inside was much more extravagant and extra, there were only few reporters and their camera men walking around the place. It was a large room with a large staircase in the middle, and a bunch of rooms and hallways off the sides. “You okay Midoryia?” 

Shoto asked as his small boyfriend nodded, blushing and smiling in response. Todoroki sighed... kissing him on the cheek before going to join the girls, gripping Izuku’s hand tightly. “Lovely... Now remember the rules, we must bow from the waist only, smile only a little bit, and our hair must stay nice to entire time.” Momo turned and grabbed four glasses filled with sparkling water, dispersing them among her friends. 

“Lovely, now remember how I told you. Three fingers on one side, two on the other. And you hold it about lower-chest level so-” Momo’s lecture was interrupted by a reporter and her camera man stepping into the conversation. 

“Ahh, it’s the UA students everyone is so eager to meet! Hello, I’m Sasha from Channel News 4, and right now we are at the Conventional Meeting for the Yayorozu Hero Agency and all of it’s special guests, including pro hero All Might, Endeavor, and the hero in training Kyoka Jirou, Izuku Midoryia, Shoto Todoroki, and Momo Yayorozu. Tell me, as young adults, how did you and your friends prepare for such a prestigious event Shoto?” 

The reporter shoved her microphone into Shoto’s face, catching him off guard. Below the smile, Izuku could see that she was hoping Todoroki would say something dramatic and to be on the headlines of their magazines. He had to help his boyfriend. “Shoto lost his voice, so if you wouldn’t mind I’ll speak for him.” Izuku smiled as the news reporter happily moved the microphone to in front of him. 

“Personally, I’ve spent the past few days trying to help Shoto de-stress because after all, he’s Shoto Todoroki. He shouldn’t have to worry about the people here.” Deku smiled, happy with his response as the reporter smirked. 

“Does that mean that you and Shoto believe that he is equal or better than the famous faces we are seeing here today?” She asked as Deku began laughing, catching everyone off guard. 

“You’re so funny Sasha! I know that myself and my friends have been fangirling over all of this ever since we heard about it. With people like All Might and Endeavor here, it is very hard to feel at ease here. After all, we are just training to become what they already are, am I wrong?”

 Shoto had to think over everything, and comprehend how his boyfriend was so well in front of a camera, even tricking the reporter who only wanted drama, gossip, and for life to turn into a reality tv show. “Anyways, we must go. Nice talking to you.” Momo grabbed everyone by the arm and pulled them away, leaving the news crew in the dust. 

“Wait! We have to ask about your sexual orientation, and your views on black lives matter!” She yelled out, but was left with no answer. While Jirou and Momo went off to get food off a platter, Shoto stayed with Izuku and smiled. Grabbing both of his hands, he smiled happily. Such a happy, pure smile. “Thank you ‘Zuki. Thank you so much.” Todoroki would have said more, but the sight of his father coming from across the room behind Izuku stopped him. 

Deku turned around to see Endeavor, swallowing nervously but calming his nerves as he began to think. This was simply Todoroki’s dad, nothing more. Not the pro hero who could burn his face off then and there, but a human being who had brought the love of his life to the world. “Shoto... Midoryia.” Shoto saw his old man’s eyes drift at the two of them holding hands, and the look he was giving was unreadable. 

While on the other side of the room, Momo and Jirou were having a party of their own. Basically gossiping about the boys in their class and what Aizawa had been doing lately with All Might, they found his girly laughs and the way he whispered secrets that he knew from their teenage years to then absolutely lovable. 

“I know! Like, doesn’t Nezu care that he sleeps half of class? Iida teaches more than he does!” Jirou laughed out loud as All Might snorted out his drink. “Dang, I miss being one of the girls.” All Might giggled like a small girl, causing the two to snort their own sparkling. 

“When you’re done with the childs play, I would like to introduce you to someone Momo. Daughter, this is Ria Terrasu. She runs the modeling agency downtown for young, aspiring, female heroes.” Momo’s father introduced the blue-haired, older woman to her. 

“Yes, what your father said. We believe that since female pro heroes are so far and in between, we use our company to get their name out there! Our agency gives you a chance to do commercials with other pros, build your brand, and really find your own place in our society. We also are known for having our... pro lgbtq campaign going on.” Momo and Jirou made eye contact, their eyes sparkling and their hearts smiling. “That’s wonderful! Where do I sign?” Momo exclaimed jokingly, smiling ear to ear as the old woman giggled. 

“I knew you’d like that. All I ask for now is that you think about it. Of course, you’d only be able to do weekends and we would work 9 to 3 on Saturday and Sundays.” She explained as Momo began having second thoughts. Was she truly prepared to add another thing to her to-do list, when she was already a full time student, training to become a pro hero, and starting what seemed to be a perfect relationship with Jirou. “I’ll... I’ll think about it. Thank you Miss, really.” Momo stepped away, looking at Jirou with a sad look in her eyes. 

“W-what's wrong boo? I thought you loved the idea of that! Imagine how much fun you’d have being a model!” Jirou exclaimed as Momo smiled sadly. “Yes, but imagine all the fun we have on the weekends. I’d be missing out on all of that with you. Every hour without you is torture, so why would I sign myself up to do more?” Momo asked as Jirou blushed, kissing Momo softly. “You’re cute. Good job. Let’s go get Deku, we can cry and kiss later.” Jirou winked as Momo blushed even more, beginning to begin another conversation with All Might and make him “one of the girls” again.

While on the other side of the room, Endeavor put his hand out and tried his best to do what appeared to be a small smile. “Pleased to see you again.” He murmured as Deku quickly shook it, happy to see him trying. Shoto, on the other hand, was not thoroughly convinced. 

“Same for you sir. Have you been harassed by reporters today? We were just confronted by one, and man are they crazy!” Deku began to make conversation with the pro hero like it was nothing, even getting a shocked expression from Endeavor in return that he didn’t notice. Finally, this is my chance to show Shoto what I think of his relationship. “Ahh, I went through the same thing when I came in. It’s as if they’ve never heard of personal space.” Shoto’s eyes widened at the fact that his old man had made a joke to his boyfriend. 

“I agree sir. As if they can interview us, we then aren’t allowed to have our personal bubble.” Deku smiled, treating this as another conversation. Endeavor was talking to him, and not being snobbish or rude! What an accomplishment! “What a correct way to put it. I do not know why or how they are in here, but personally, I’ve already requested them to be removed. It’s already enough that we get blinded when we walk from the car to in here. Now that you’re here, I can’t help but as-” 

Before Endeavor could finish, Momo ran to Deku, pulling him aside. “All Might is asking for you! Come on Izu!” She pulled him away, leaving Shoto and his father alone. “What is the deal with All Might? Goodness... I do not understand the obsession with him, especially after his retirement.” Endeavor murmured as Shoto shook his head, smiling sadly. “All Might is the closest thing Midoryia has to a father. I recommend you get used to seeing him.” Todoroki walked away, going to join his friends at the circular table in the banquet hall with everyone else. So I must talk to All Might as well to become familiar with this boy? Man, why can’t this be easy?

Endeavor followed his son to the table to sit down between Shoto and one of Mr. Yayorozu’s business partners. The seating chart had Endeavor, Shoto, Deku, All Might, Momo’s mother, Jirou, Momo, Momo’s father, and then one of the business partners to the Yayorozu hero agency. “Ahh, Endeavor. Nice seeing you after so long.” All Might greeted Endeavor as he swallowed his pride, agreeing with himself that he would try and change as a father, as a father-in-law as well. “Agree.” He did that thing where he was trying to smile, but it just looked awkward. 

Thankfully, before the conversation could become awkward, the spokesperson walked onto the stage, speaking into the microphone. “Hello? Hello everyone. Thank you for joining me for the 81st Yayorozu Hero Agency Convention. To start us off, the owners of this establishment would like to ask All Might, who has so recently retired after giving us a safe way of life for so many years, to come give a speech. Everyone, a round of applause?” All Might blushed, smiling and going up to the stage. 

“T-thank you everyone, really. Goodness, this is unexpected. I would like to start off by saying-” At that moment, Deku looked to hear something beeping under the stage. “All Might! Watch out!” Using the power in his legs, he shot out of his seat, wrapped his arms around All Might, and pushed him off the stage into the corner just as an explosion erupted onto the stage. “Young Midoryia! You just saved my life!” All Might yelled as Izuku looked up to see the room being filled with explosions, causing all of the people inside to rush out of the room in a frazzled, panicked state. 

“Someone is behind all of this, and they’re targeting the pro heroes here. All Might, you need to get out of here!” Izuku exclaimed, picking up his mentor and beginning to walk him out. “Midoryia, I can help him by making a shield of ice! You go and find out who’s causing this! They cannot be far from here!” Shoto instructed as Deku nodded, leaving the banquet hall and entering the main room to find it on fire, large chunks of the ceiling and floor missing. “Deku! We need to stop whoever is doing all of these! They’re only going off whenever someone is getting close to them, so someone must be watching!” Jirou exclaimed, picking up wounded people and beginning to carry them. 

“Quick! Deku, rush up to the security office! It’s on the third floor, and it says Security on the door!” Momo instructed, creating a small bed with wheels and placing the hurt on them. 

Without hesitation, Deku rushed up the flights of stairs and then another until he was on the third floor. Slowly, he began to walk into the office, looking behind the wall to see that a person was sitting at the computer. “Super power charge!” Deku shot out from behind the corner, only to be met by nothing. “Did you not think I couldn’t see you coming through the cameras? You have a lot to learn Izuku!” The villain Toga jumped up, getting out her knife and running at him. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Deku yelled, using his quirk to jump onto the wall and then kick her from behind, pinning her to the ground and knocking her unconscious. Rushing to the computer, he looked around to find where the next bomb was going to go off. Checking the sticky note Toga had written next to the screen, he read 6:15, Floor 3 Left Wing Hallway. Looking at the watch to read 3:14, and then at the screen to see Endeavor walking there, Izuku began to panic. But luckily, Deku worked the best under pressure. Running out of the room and running into Endeavor, he grabbed his arm and used 12% of his quirk to swing Endeavor to the other side of the hallway.

 “Wha- Midoryia!” Endeavor yelled as he hit the ground, before looking towards Izuku to see a bomb going off right under his feet. Deku got launched from his feet, and then slammed into the ceiling, only to fall back to the first floor once the floor beneath him quickly crumbled away. “Oh my god!” Endeavor yelled, running to the unconscious boy before the realization hit him. Deku had just saved Endeavor’, putting himself at risk in the process. Half of Izuku’s arm looked burnt to a crisp, and his leg looked to be twisted incorrectly. “Doctor! Someone, we need a doctor!”

 Endeavor yelled out, surprised to be met by a paramedic, Shoto slowly following behind. “Oh god, Dad! What happened to him?!” Shoto nervously ran to Deku’s side, examining him with his tear-filled eyes. “He saved me son... threw me out of the way before a bomb could hurt me. Luckily, he wasn’t directly under the bomb like I had been, and only got slightly grazed by it.” He explained, feeling nervous himself. Had this poor boy really saved him, when he was a pro hero himself and was hated by the public? What was his deal?

The next time Izuku opened his eyes, he was in a hospital surrounded by Momo and Jirou sleeping with each other on the small pull-out couch, and Shoto sitting on the spinning chair. “Oh god, you’re awake.” Todoroki smiled, running to Izuku’s side. “Glad to see you’re okay Zuki.” He blushed, before the door opened behind him to reveal his father. “I think we all are.” He held a balloon that looked pitiful next to his large size, and flowers that looked expensive. “Dad?” Todoroki asked, shocked to see his father standing before his eyes. “Shoto, come out in the hall with me.” His father instructed, leaving the things on the table and leaving out the door. 

Shoto kissed Deku’s cheek before following him, shutting the door behind him. “Son, I must ask you something important, and I want the honest answer.” Endeavor asked as Shoto’s eyes widened at the sudden use of “son”. “I need to know if all of this is true. Are you sure you’re gay? Are you sure that you want to date All Might’s successor? ... Are you in love with Izuku Midoryia?” Endeavor asked, turning to face Shoto who stood there, leaning against the door with a surprised conversation. “I don’t see why you need to know any of t-”.

“Because how am I supposed to change if I don’t know a single thing about you?! How can I become a good father for you if I don’t even know you? Why don’t I know you Shoto?...” Shoto could have swore that he saw a single tear being shed from his father’s eyes. “Why did you come out to the whole world before me? Do you realize how much of a failure that makes me?” Todoroki was right. Endeavor was crying before his very eyes. 

“Why can’t I just be a terrible guy? Why must I wake up and realize my terrible actions after I’ve done them? Oh Shoto...” Endeavor put his hand on Shoto’s shoulder, pressing firmly on him. “I will be someone who you can be happy to call your father. I’m not asking for you to forget, but I am asking for a chance to prove myself to you, to your siblings... to the world.” Shoto shed a tear before putting his hand out, recreating the same gesture that Endeavor had done to Deku. 

“One more chance old man, but only because I want this to work just as much as you do.” Todoroki confessed, before hearing yells inside the hospital room. Running inside, he was met by the sight of Momo and Jirou screeching happily, jumping up and down. “W-what happened? What’s going on?” Shoto demanded, seeing that Izuku was overjoyed as well. “The modeling agency called me! They want us both!” Jirou yelled, throwing her phone to the couch before kissing her girlfriend. “Hmm, I guess that banquet was the best thing for all of us.” Endeavor murmured below his breath.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Thirty-seven: Ajax

I am No Longer A Baby Panda

             Later, Pax would say he admired his mother’s stylish entrance.

           At the time, he was just horrified. And maybe a little annoyed. He’d been proud of himself for getting back Frank’s stick and not having to sleep with his sister (something, he realized, really ought to cue him in that he had hit an all-time-low) and now the Goddess of Night had to steal the limelight—haha, steal the light—and tackle Apollo out of the sky.

           Everything happened at once.

           As the sun fell, ghostly silhouettes groaned out of the blackness. The lingering ghosts spilled from the forests, out of the shadows they’d been watching, and cackled with gleeful war cries.

           Rotting corpses staggered towards Camp Half-Blood, an army at least four times larger than the one the Romans had been holding back earlier. Melinoe, her half-mummified, half-fireplace fabulous carcass, led the charge.

           The piercing notes of a pipe echoed through the fields and a huntress, a Greek, and a Roman[1] standing guard at the border collapsed.

           A suction of warm air eased away from the camp, and Pax knew the Mist shield—if it had been recovering—was completely down again.

           The ground rumbled. Pax hoped, but doubted, that it was Nico or Axel to the rescue with a secret, giant mole army.

           Instead, a massive black serpent exploded from—if Pax had to guess—that hole in the ground that Jack had voice-activated outside Hera’s cabin. You know, the major weakness of their defenses in the center of the camp that really ought to have a Welcome, Python, sign, We Forgot You RSVPed.

           By now, the screams were omnipresent.

           When Python collapsed onto the Apollo cabin, Pax liked to think there were as many screams afterwards as before Python decided to use the once-golden structure as a back scratcher.

           Romans spilled out of the barracks. Greeks scrambled out of their cabins, er, the cabins that were left.

           “Turn on the field lights!” Frank shouted from somewhere by the barracks.

           The Canadian’s orders came to light and brought the ghastly attackers to high definition. The thump of the field lights echoed around the strawberry field. Pax had to wonder if substitute sunlight could weaken ghosts, and, if so, whether the Romans should seriously consider adding horticultural LED grow-lamps to their infantry.

           Michael Kahale and Butch were with half-a-dozen demigods towards their edge of the strawberry field, apparently having been planning defenses for this evening. Well, surprise!

           In a breath’s pause, Butch looked towards Python and Kahale blinked at the advancing ghoul army. The debate on whether to help with Python or guard the border lasted all of Michael Kahale ordering the troops to stand strong on the strawberry field. “To arms! Defend our barrier!”

           What a mighty battle cry Michael missed out on; Pax would have said, Defend our berries!

           Pax felt like he was watching an old family movie as his mother tossed her Molotov cocktail up and down. The flame flickered, making the malicious zeal in her eyes glitter. She wore black tactical pants, a torn up red and black shirt with a circled and slashed A, a black bandana to conceal half her face, and—

           When she launched her Molotov cocktail, everything became too real.

           Pax wanted to say, Nice throw, since he’d forgotten his mother was a goddess and lobbing a bottle of alcohol was as easy as tossing rice at a wedding, though that probably was what she tossed at weddings. The bottle went clean over half the strawberry field, far beyond where Percy was cursing Eris at his throne of Saturnalia.

           The glass shattered.

           Michael Kahale went up in flames.

           There were more screams.

           He dropped to the ground, rolling, tearing at his armor.

           Two other soldiers dropped beside him. One went to rip Michael’s armor off, the other frantically shoved dirt onto him.

           Watching the fire and screaming centurion, Pax clutched Frank’s stick to his chest. He felt like the stupid thing could burst into flames by sheer peer pressure.

           A laugh with the same giggling mania as the Joker’s filled the battlefield along with the flick of a match.

           Eris jumped up and down in excitement as she tossed another bottle from hand to hand. “Terror Muffin! Come paint with me! I’ll bet I can make my masterpiece more vibrant than yours!”

           Pax, stupidly, went to shout a warning, like Michael Kahale and the others might be confused or capable of defending themselves from the whole “flaming bombs” thing.

           As he opened his mouth, something much louder made an inhuman wail about ten feet behind him.

           There was a crunch of metal and bone.

           At the same time, the Silver-Tongued helm attached to his waist shrieked.

           One of our brethren is in danger!

           Really, Pax wanted to ask the helm why it didn’t open up more often. He was offended by the lack of weekly coffee chats—Axel’s helm talked to Axel all the time--but now wasn’t the time.

           The shriek left him confused, with a lovely punched-by-a-minotaur-in-the-stomach sense of dread.

           One horrifying thing at a time.

           When he looked up to see the Molotov cocktail’s destruction, a blinding flash of light arched over the demigods.

           The bottle hit something, exploded along the arch, and burned out, leaving the split second image of a brilliant, mini rainbow.

           As the beams of colors faded, Pax could see Butch, the giant child of Iris, scowling hatefully in their direction. His arms were raised, one with a mister bottle, the other with a flashlight.

           Rainbows were some powerful shit.

           Pax wanted to slowly back up, put his hands in his pockets, and walk away whistling.

           But he had to stop his mother from withdrawing a grenade from her utility belt.

           He needed to chastise her: utility belts were definitely something that shouldn’t be used by evil. Only comic book heroes.

           “Mom! Stop!” Pax cried. The shock faded enough for Pax to sprint towards her.

           Her grenade didn’t even have a pin in it. From what he could see, it was held together by a hair band.

           As she slipped the hair band back onto her wrist and cranked her arm for the throw, Pax slapped her hand.

           The grenade tumbled out of her grip. While in mid-air, he kicked it as hard as he could towards Farm Road.

           In the last few moments, he tackled his mother away—

           An explosion popped his ears. Dirt sprayed his back.

           Before the dust had settled, his mother was already squirming to shove him off. Pax wished he could hug the homicidal out of her and have them all go on a nice, non-violent family picnic after this, whatever was left of his family. Merry wouldn’t hurt Hiro, but he’d watched Jason kill someone Pax loved before. He hoped Lapis and Axel were okay.

           “My Little Terror Muffin, what’s the matter?” she cooed, digging her talon-like nails into his recently-fractured shoulder. “The Greeks and Romans massacred all your friends and hunted you into hiding. This is the perfect opportunity for you to have a little fun. Don’t you want to honor your friends and let Momma have a nice Bring Your Son to Work Day?”

           Pax whined in pain. He fumbled to withdraw a dart from his belt with his hand with functional tendons. He feared he didn’t have the dexterity with the other. Pax didn’t know if his darts would knock out a goddess, or if he had any Morpheus dust left to do the trick.

           His belt wasn’t there.

           Axel had shredded it and Pax left the remains in the Hermes cabin. All he had was Frank’s stick and the Silver-Tongued Snake helm on a rope around his waist, because he feared the Hermes little ones would play with it.

           Pax wanted to cheerily brush his mother’s comment off. Instead, his mouth worked on its own. “Stop pretending all the messed up stuff you and Dad do is for me!” he snarled.

           Pax meeped when his mother lifted him up like he was a small child. When she stood, they were several feet higher off the ground than they should have been. She was feeding off the chaos around them, growing. He trembled to think she’d be more powerful with each second of this battle.

           But, Pax realized, he was her son. It ran in the family.

           Although he felt small and baby-panda-like, Pax could discern the delirious sensation coursing through his limbs, like it had during the pandemonium when the Heroes of Olympus collided with the Traitors from Mount Othrys.

           The feeling normally made him nauseous. Normally, he wished desperately he could get a high off a party, like Merry, or off two people in love, like Calex, or a song, like Kally.

           This time, Pax didn’t try to stop the tugging in his stomach. An uncomfortable acceptance settled over him, putting him at ease with the surrounding screams and mayhem: Greeks and Romans were going to die during this battle, he and his brother were never going to be the same after what Ares and Aphrodite did to them, his family was in tatters and needed major therapy, everyone in this camp would die if he, Kally, Alabaster, and a handful of fighters didn’t level up, and if he kept pretending his family was a pack of misunderstood puppies.

           Axel or Jack or someone else always came to the rescue. If Pax could let go, maybe if he stopped acting like a baby panda, he could protect other baby pandas still in Camp Half-Blood.

           “Terror Muffin, I only want you to experience life and glee as fully as I do,” Eris cooed. She was about to toss him, he could feel her winding up. But Pax was the Silver-Tongued Snake, the former spymaster from Kronos’ army, and known for weaseling his way out of everything. “What is that silly saying they have? Be the change you want to see in the world? I’m setting a good example for someone I love.”

           She nuzzled the top of his head with her chin. Her body tensed for the throw.

           In a motion Hunnie, Baller, and Nietz would have been proud of, he latched onto his mother, digging his functional fingers into the skin above her kidney and chomping down hard with his teeth.

           Eris lost her grip on Pax.

           He thrashed and squirmed his way out, springing off her to land on his feet.

           Pax stood a foot taller than the highest field light, his breath was ragged, and a hysterical laugh spilled from his lips. “I am not a baby panda!” he cried triumphantly.

           Eris touched her back, her fingers returning with golden ichor smearing them. “Terror Muffin?” she asked, her serial killer grin one of amusement.

           “Sorry. Internal monologue. It’s a main character thing,” he said. “Now, for the reprise. You and Dad always say you do this stuff because you love me.” Pax doned the Silver-Tongued Snake helm, feeling the warm enhancement of strength slither through him. He cracked his neck and withdrew Frank’s stick like it was one of his daggers. “If this is love, I don’t want to be loved!”

           Pax really hoped this battle would be over soon, else he wasted a kick-ass line.

           Eris’ wide, excited gaze turned adoring. “Your tricks won’t work on me, Terror Muffin. There’s no one you can turn into that would make me stop. You can’t puppet me the way you did the little Valdez. We have the same powers. You’re my son.”

           “I’m not just your son. And I’m not letting you, or anyone else from our family hurt these baby pandas,” Pax said. He wished he would have pickpocketed her lighter off her, but he hadn’t felt one when he weaseled away. Instead, he focused on Frank’s stick, hoping it was as easily influenced as he thought. He also hoped this thing had a “slow burn” option or an alarm that would flash with, Destruction of Canadian: Imminent.

           The tip burst into flames.

           Pax bit his tongue, whining at the blood dribbling out—how did Axel do this every time without complaining?--and said the incantation he’d only ever successfully recited during the battle for Mount Othrys, something he’d heard Frasco do before he died. “Xma’su’tal Xib, Liik’il Ch’iich’!”[2]

           Pax spit his blood into the flames. The red glow flared a brilliant turquoise. Pain flared as he felt his limbs elongate and his bones alter. What he was excited to say, and had rehearsed a few times in his head, was, “I’ll show you why you don’t mess with a Mayan warrior-prince!” but what came out was more of a, “Aye! Aye! OW! How does Axel do this all the time?!”

Sorry for some of the bravado, I’ll admit, I’ve been watching WAY too much anime recently.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D

Footnotes:

[1] As Mel pointed out, excellent start to a joke, “A huntress, a Greek, and a Roman were standing guard…”

[2] “Abandon the man, ascend the eagle/bird.”

[mister-lucky-bunny]

Scooby Doo: Monster Menagerie Chpt. 2

Description: The gang tries to get answers from a local police department when they come across a very strange man.

Scooby-Doo: Monster Menagerie

Chapter 2: Detective Freak

The bog was filled with a loud silence. Almost nothing was stirring, and even the gentle breeze of the wind made no sound to the environment around it. Very little light was able to push through the dark, overcast of clouds above. One could only assume that it wouldn't be very long before the sky allowed the clouds to release the rain inside. Not that there was anything that could benefit from the rain, as pretty much all of the surrounding vegetation had long since been dead. Fungal life seemed to thrive, but even then it was quite scarce, growing in between the bacteria ridden bog and nutrient deficient soil. Any animal life that dared to try to live in the bog was soon sucked into the quicksand, their reactions too slow to save their own lives.

In the distance, but not too far away, a stone fence surrounded a large, yet old, mansion. The metal gate remained shut, rusted from being out in the rain for many years. The fence itself was in danger of falling apart, eroded and cracked in numerous areas. Strangely, however, it did not seem to budge after years of use. A shingle of wood was nailed to the fence, the words hand painted on. As for the mansion, it was surrounded by a moat, filled with rather murky water. The contents of the moat were hidden, although for most, it was probably better that way. The drawbridge remained down, held together by massive chains, which were also rusted.

A somewhat stout woman stood on the drawbridge, clad in a simple salmon pink dress, with dark red heels. She also wore a sort of collar, which was also a dark red, little skull broaches adorning either side on her shoulders. She kept a red headband on, as if to keep her messy black hair away from her face. Her face seemed a bit worn, due to age, but she managed to hold a small, yet genuine, grin.

After a while, the woman finally broke the stiff silence, closing her eyes and breathing in a deep inhale. She held it for a few seconds before exhaling, sighing peacefully.

"Such a pleasant day. I do hope that the days to come will be like this," She hummed to herself. "With any luck, I'll be able to have our old coach back before the girls return for the year. It would be quite lovely to give them a surprise."

She turned inside towards the mansion, as if shifting her attention to an unseen entity. "Come, Matches. I suggest you come out here, too. The air will do you some good."

Soon, a grumbling, green... creature, hobbled from the foyer and outside, moving somewhat slowly. It was the size of a komodo dragon, yet took on the former term more literally. Webbed front feet, clawed back feet, an arrow shaped tail, horns, and scruffy dark green hair formed over it's head like moss. It was no doubt a mythical creature, and one that did not like having it's sleep disturbed. Despite having been cooped up most of the time, the large scaled creature didn't seem to mind it's alone time.

Once it managed it's way next to the woman's side, it immediately plopped right next to her feet, mumbling to itself and curling up, wishing to continue it's slumber. She looked down at him, shaking her head in amusement.

"Oh, you lazy dragon," The woman chuckled to herself, staring out into the bog once more. Her face seemed to sullen, just a little. Her smile remained, even if thoughts began to form in her mind. She began to speak aloud once more.

"...it's strange to say, but with how still and peaceful things have been, it almost feels like... the eye of the storm. As if preparing for something."

The dragon gave a snort, snoozing obliviously. The woman's expression livened up once more, as if mentally brushing her previous intrusions away.

"If he considers my offer, it will become much easier to stay alert, I believe. A helping hand is always needed, no matter what." With that, the woman turned to walk back inside her mansion, tilting her head back at her strange pet as she did. "Matches, don't forget to shut the door once you wake up."

A derisive snort from the sleeping dragon gave the woman the affirmation she needed and continued inside, ready to prepare her mansion for her incoming students, and hopefully, her returning teacher.

___________________________________________

"Hey Shag, you awake back there?"

The sudden voice of Freddie seemed to snap Shaggy out of his own thoughts, having been lost in them for most of the trip. "Oh! Uh, like, sorry, Freddie. Guess I dozed off a little," He answered, adding a bit of a laugh. He wasn't being too truthful, naturally, but it didn't seem like his friends notice. Scooby seemed to be asleep, however, snoring quite a bit as the Mystery Machine continued on it's track to Louisiana.

The usual seating arrangements were present, with Freddie driving, Daphne sitting to his right, and Velma sitting to her right. Shaggy and Scooby remained in the back, sitting among everyone's bags. Once Shaggy acknowledged Fred's question, he continued on.

"Don't mean to bother you too much, but didn't you tell us that you used to teach around here for a little?"

A little stone of guilt dropped in his seemingly never-ending stomach, although the silence was filled with Velma's voice. "That's right! I remember when you actually managed to graduate with a degree in teaching. We were all so proud of you."

"Not as proud as you, Velma," Daphne joked, looking over at her with a grin. Velma returned the smile, her cheeks flushed some. It was true that among all of them, she was the most eager that Shaggy was seeing his education through, even if his subject of choice wasn't what any of them expected to be. In hindsight, however, it did make sense that the member of their group who spent the most time running would turn out to get his teaching degree in physical education.

Shaggy found himself rubbing the back of his head, smiling in a bashful manner as he laughed gently. "Y-yeah, like, I couldn't believe I managed to do that, either!"

"It's quite an accomplishment, Shaggy," Velma continued, turning her head back towards him. "It was a little... unusual how quickly you went to find a teaching job, though."

Shaggy shrugged at this. "Like, I guess I was eager to put my degree to good use, y'know?"

"The thing is, though, there really isn't a whole lot of choices around here, education wise," Daphne said, observing the surroundings.

"Uh, like, it was a private school, of sorts," Answered Shaggy. He wasn't being untruthful for sure, looking to find a way to slowly introduce his friends to the school of ghouls. Before they began to ask any questions, however, his cowardice got the best of him and allowed him to keep talking, as if trying to divert the attention away from what he just said. "Like, it didn't last too long though. We left about after a month or two."

The rest of the gang raised their eyebrows, looking to one another. Velma spoke up after a bit of silence. "...Shaggy, you were gone for five months."

Once again, he gulped and laughed nervously. "O-o-oh yeah! Haha..! After we left, like, Scooby, Scrappy, and I started to uh... well..." He paused for a second, realizing that what he was about to say would probably be more absurd than him teaching. "...well, race."

What followed was a reaction that he somewhat expected: laughter. Not so much as making fun of him, but more so in disbelief. "What like, cars?" Daphne asked, trying to hide a grin with her hand.

"Yeah..! We were, like, pretty doggone good at it, too!" He answered, somewhat pridefully. "Like, I even got together with a cute girl because of it."

Freddie turned his head so that his vision was at the mirror, getting a glance at Shaggy, so he could see his reflection. After all, taking one's eyes off the road was very dangerous. "Woah, Shag, you dog! How come you haven't told us about her? Was she cute?"

Daphne responded by elbowing Fred in the ribs, hard enough to not actually injure, but making sure he got the message. As he grunted and used a free hand to rub where she hit him, Shaggy replied by laughing, waving his hand somewhat dismissively. "Like, it didn't last too long. By the time I decided to come back to you guys, she had already moved on," He answered, relaxing in his seat some. At this point, Scooby was starting to wake up, his eyelids fluttering open and letting out a loud yawn.

"Hey gang, I don't mean to interrupt, but we're here," Freddie informed.

The clouds above were overcast, making the air around them rather humid, threatening the whole town with rain. At this point in their trip, they were slowly cruising into the town of the attack. At one point, they even drove past the crime scene, which was cut off with police tape. A couple of locals seemed to linger around, although the police didn't seem to be paying much mind. When the brightly colored van passed them by, however, it did grab their attention, watching it drive by slowly, eyeing it for a little. The van was familiar to them, and it didn't make them happy that a certain group of meddling kids and their dog was going to start imposing on their investigation.

The young adults paid no mind to their accusatory glares, Freddie merely giving a friendly wave and a smile at them before turning his attention to the road. "I think the first place we oughta stop is the local police station," He said, turning down onto a different street. They kept receiving unreadable stares from locals, a few of them pointing the large van out to friends.

"Maybe the locals could help us out with that, too?" Daphne asked. "After all, they were the ones who thought the whole situation involved a monster."

"I'd say we do both," Velma requested. "I can see the police station up ahead, so let's stop by there first."

A grumble of two bellies got the attention of everyone. Predictably, Shaggy said, "Like, after that how about a quick lunch? All this talk of monsters works up an appetite."

"Ryeah!" Scooby agreed, giggling a bit.

The town itself wasn't too needlessly complex, nor was it simple. It was, simply put, a town. A larger than normal town, held together by the community, who seemed to be rather tightly knit. Buildings looked somewhat old fashioned, yet they were clean and nicely repaired to appear somewhat modern as well. A view inside any of these buildings would show that despite the old fashioned exterior, the inside managed to keep up with the times, fitting the needs of what people needed nowadays. Wi-fi, internet, phone service, and everything similar.

The Mystery Machine slowed to a halt in the parking lot of the police station. Fred parked the car and opened the door to his side. Soon, the rest of Mystery Inc. joined him, starting to head into the station. The building itself was fashioned out of nicely carved stone, bronze statues of simple orbs resting on stone pillars in the front. In a golden font on the front read simply "Police Station."

With a shrug shared between all of them, they walked inside. Once inside, they looked around some. There were a couple of wooden and metal benches, where two cops seemed to be talking to each other on. At the reception desk, another officer appeared to be talking to the secretary, who was an older woman wearing glasses. The officers seemed to wear similar attire of a beige button up, with badges on the front, as well as black pants and boots. A phone and a holster remained around their waist.

As soon as the group walked in, the eyes of the four people fell onto them. Naturally, they were all familiar with who they were, but the only one to seem to greet them was the man talking to the receptionist. "Ah, hello there, y'all. Name's Deputy Marshall. What might I help y'all with?" He began, walking towards the group.

They walked closer to the deputy as Freddie straightened his ascot a bit. "Hey, Deputy. Uh, name's Freddie, and this is Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby," He greeted, pointing to each member as he called them out. Each one gave a little wave, including the dog. The deputy nodded at them.

"I thought I recognized y'all. Quite infamous, y'know," He continued on casually. "Gotta say, not a fan of y'all givin' us a bit of a bad name. What, with y'all solvin' the mysteries and makin' us officers look... useless."

"Oh..! But we're not trying to do that at all," Daphne interjected, which made the deputy turn his attention towards her, snorting a bit.

"That so? Then why're y'all here? Heard about the attack, no doubt."

"Well, yes, but-" Velma began.

"Don't go stickin' your nose into it. We've investigated it and determined it was nothin' more than a wild animal," He said, face reddening a bit in anger. He sighed, looking away suddenly, as if to calm down. "...please, just, don't go makin' our jobs harder by stickin' around here for too long."

They all felt somewhat disappointed, especially Fred. "Ah, we see," He started. In an instant, he seemed to lighten up, thinking of a new question. "Well, since we're here, why not go visit that school you used to teach at, Shaggy?"

Shaggy jumped at the question, laughing a bit. "W-what? Now? Without lunch first?" The deputy raised an eyebrow, now looking at the tall man.

"Teacher? You don't seem like the kind to teach," He asked, narrowing his eyebrows and scanning him over. His eyes traced over his pockets for awhile as well before looking back up at the man. "Whatcha teach?"

Scooby barked an answer up at him. "Rysical Reduration!"

The man looked at the dog blankly before he went back at Shaggy. "...what did he say?"

"Like, uh, p-physical education," Shaggy stammered a bit, somewhat intimidated by the officer. With that answer, the deputy crossed his arms, giving a smarmy look.

"Really. Where at?" At this question, Velma responded, crossing her own arms. She put a sharp tone to her voice as she did.

"It just so happens that it was the local private school!"

"Y'mean the one out in the bog?"

"Which one?" Came a new voice from behind the group. The voice was a sudden, deep, almost gravelly voice. While it sent shivers down Mystery Inc.'s spine, the officer seemed to freeze. His smug grin was replaced with a grimace, his eyes widening a bit.

Without looking away from the group, the officer merely gave a small nod. "Afternoon, detective," He responded simply. The gang noticed that the two cops that were on the bench were now suddenly hurrying towards a door, quickly walking through it further into the building. As for the receptionist, she was suddenly very intrigued with whatever was on her computer screen. The rest of them turned around to see the detective that seemed to freak the others out.

At first glance, he didn't look like a detective. More like the person you'd see being detained by one. He leaned against the door frame casually, hands in the pockets of his dark purple hoodie. Yes, a hoodie. The rest of his attire was just as casual, and certainly not fitting someone with a job like a detective. Basic blue jeans and sneakers were also worn, and the man's hair was utterly wild. Long and brown, yet very unkempt, almost covering his eyes.

That was probably the most chilling thing about him: his eyes. They were wide open, shadowed by his hair somewhat. The rest of his face wasn't much more welcoming. His skin was pale and gaunt, showing off his cheekbones. His facial hair was very scruffy and wild, not unlike his hair. He bared a grin that was as wide and unhinged as his eyes were. It was equally as discomforting when he started walking towards the group.

Well, limping would've been a more apt description. His left foot fell behind a little, giving him an uneven gait. He also could have stood about as tall as Shaggy if he stood up straight. Instead, he was hunched over a little bit. His expression never changed as he walked. This caused everyone to back up, albeit a bit unintentionally.

"Aw, come on, Deputy, don't leave them in the dark like that. You and I both know that there are two schools out there," He spoke, grinning even wider, if that was even possible. The deputy cleared his throat nervously, slowly turning to the creepy detective.

"L-listen, detective, you know you shouldn't spread those rumors..!"

The detective only shook his head, chuckling a little. Without so much as blinking, he lifted his hand up suddenly and pointed a finger at Shaggy. The speed of this caused him to yelp and jump. The detective paid no mind and merely continued. "Please do tell me. Was it Calloway's?" The name was certainly familiar to Shaggy, as he gulped.

Knowing it was no use lying to such a weird man, he shook his head. "N-n-n-no..?" He shivered, feeling Scoob hide behind him, covering his eyes.

The answer seemed to satisfy the detective, curling his finger back into his scarred fist and pushing it into his hoodie. His grin turned into a wide, even scarier, smile, looking back at the deputy. "It seems we're not the only ones who knows anymore, Deputy."

The deputy was turning red again, but didn't seem to dare talk back to him. The man merely started to limp past him, not turning his attention away from Shaggy or his friends. "I know why you're here, and it's the same reason why I've been so busy," He continued, giggling to himself. "If you're interested, follow me to my office." With that, he turned his head and walked past the receptionist, into the office space. She gave a noticeable shiver, trying her best to not look at him.

After a bit of awkward silence, Velma cleared her throat. "Who was that..?"

The deputy gulped and turned back, already looking worse for wear. "That... was our homicide detective. He just showed up one day, requesting a job. After looking over his credentials, he was the only one who was fit to manage his position. He's amazingly accurate and incredibly intelligent." The deputy leaned in, lowering his voice. "He's also absolutely batshit insane," He murmured.

"Why was he walking like that?" Daphne began.

"And what was wrong with his hand?" Fred continued.

"And l-l-like, why does he look so t-t-terrifying!?" Shaggy gulped.

The deputy looked between them all and sighed. "He thinks of himself as a... monster hunter of sorts. Got himself into lots of situations, wherein he tried to chase after a local legend, or somethin' stupid. Never wanted to harm whatever he was after, though." He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Those injuries are probably due to him pissin' off some animal he thought was a monster. He spends so much time 'researchin' them, though, that it's made him lose track of reality." The deputy rubbed his neck a little, looking thoughtful. "...course, I don't think he ever had a good grasp on it in the first place."

Everyone was silent for a little, taking in what was said. To break the stiffness of the air, Fred spoke up. "...we're going to talk to him."

"We are?!" The group responded together.

Freddie merely nodded. "If anyone else has a tip on what's going on around here, he does. Even if we have to endure his... personality, we're going to get answers out of him!" With that, he began to walk towards the offices. The group looked to each other before following, Shaggy and Scooby keeping a good distance in the back.

The deputy began to say something, but his stammers caused them to ignore him. He merely stood there, defeated. "Dah... damn meddlin' kids."

The offices currently, were somewhat empty. Any surrounding workers that were there looked quite unnerved. It didn't take long for Fred to find the only closed off office around. The blinds were closed, making sure no one would go peeking inside. Not that anyone would want to. The name card on the door was scratched out, making the detective's name impossible to read. In place, scrawled below it in read marker read something else.

"Det. FREAK"

Despite the fact he was starting to get cold feet about this whole situation, he tapped his fist against the door a couple of times. Almost immediately after the first knock, the voice of the detective hissed out, muffled a little by the door.

"Hurry up and come inside."

Freddie opened the door and made his way inside, they all huddled into the office, looking around some. Scooby quickly shut the door behind him, his paws incredibly shaky, due to nervousness. The office was small, but very cramped. Mostly due to the fact that there was lots of pictures pinned everywhere, two whiteboards with lots of information scribbled on them, and on the desk, a large book laid on a recreation of the crime scene.

The detective did not look up immediately, instead mumbling incoherently to himself. After a few seconds, his eyes shot upwards, looking at the group, his eyes scanning them all rapidly.

"So...what did you want to know?"

___________________________________________

...

I can sense doubt.

Hidden away in your mind, but there nonetheless.

The seed of all fear.

Waiting to sprout up in your subconscious mind.

Like an unwelcome weed.

...

But this is not new for you, is it?

No.

No no no no.

Certainly not.

Previous years, it's been lingering patiently.

Festering like a rotten maggot infested apple.

Despite this

You stay nonchalant.

Hiding it.

Making sure you protect those you care about.

Making sure you don't spread the seed.

...

The school year is about ready to begin, Miss Grimwood.

You better be prepared.

[fabermemorialrink]

some mistake, part 3

This part marks the end of what would be chapter one! Still a good handful of sections to upload after this one, but uh I should warn you I probably left off in the middle of writing the most important part, so I hope y’all don’t mind some suspense later on haha. Thanks again for reading!!

So Derek takes Dex’s advice to heart and tries, he really does, and...it kind of works. There are some people in each of his classes that he becomes friendly with, that he can grab a bite with or have study sessions with. And the team has several guys he's pretty close to now. There's Shitty, who’s easy to talk to and shows his support for Derek in his free-spirited, oft-naked way, and Ransom and Holster, who take him under their defensive wing. Ollie and Wicks, Indy and Alph and manager Sierra who treats them all like her out-of-control little brothers.

Derek likes them all but just even being in school drains him every day, over time. There's nothing wrong with any of them, per se, but they're all part of the same system, and it's like a vortex of bleakness that everyone at Andover is caught in. So he goes to class and talks to the tolerable people, and re-learns every single morning how to ignore the intolerable ones, and he goes to practice and bonds with the guys, and when it starts cascading into the always present shadow of pressure and prejudice, he escapes to where he can take a moment, just to be himself without being berated for having the audacity to exist.

He doesn't usually see Dex when he's just meditating in his hidey-hole, his head poking out to rest on the roots and stare up at the treasured glimpses of sky that are revealed to him through the shifting leaves. But he realizes soon enough, shortly before he heads back to the city for Thanksgiving break (because all three of his parents are actually going to be home simultaneously for once) that when he dares to delve deeper, and the woods entangles itself around him slowly and imperceptibly until he's lost in a dark corner again, Dex appears like clockwork to rescue him.

It's an accident at first, just a genuine attempt to try and teach himself more about the outdoors. He read up on camping and shit, and some Thoreau for good measure, but putting what he read into practice doesn't seem hugely successful for Derek. Inevitably, he ends up stranded in the unknown - in the inner ring, as Dex finally tells him one day when they're sitting by a pond Derek's never seen before and eating trail mix he swiped from the dining hall - where his sense of direction fails him.

Dex is nothing if not supremely reliable and strangely, suspiciously, always aware of Derek's whereabouts, so Derek is never left waiting long before Dex storms out to chastise him for endangering himself. Derek still doesn’t get it, because literally nothing seems to live in the goddamn woods except his ginger stalker/self-appointed bodyguard/friend, so he continues to tell Dex to chill and make half-baked promises to not get himself murdered. Dex always does this hilarious hand-clench of frustration when Derek brushes off his concerns, but nevertheless semi-reluctantly puts up with his company until he deems it too dark or too cold for Derek to stay any longer.

Soon it becomes habit to search Dex out whenever Derek's feeling numb. On good days, they get along, talking about the junk they’re interested in. Dex isn’t up to date on the newest shows or movies that Derek likes, but they bond over the nostalgic films of the past, and Derek gives quick and dirty summaries of all the shitty books he’s read on long plane rides. If he exaggerates the inanity of some of the plots, well, it gets a laugh out of Dex, so whatever.

On not-so-good days, at least he has someone he can argue unapologetically with. Sometimes it's important stuff, because Dex is still very much a know-nothing white boy who doesn't understand what Derek goes through on a daily basis. And though Derek still doesn’t actually know much about Dex at all, he does know that Dex thinks he’s too damn rich to understand his hang-ups about buying nice but frivolous things, and dropping more than eight dollars on brunch. So they fight about these things sometimes, but because Derek can’t physically find his way back home without Dex’s assistance, it becomes a forced learning experience for the both of them, to learn to listen to one another without tussling like elementary-schoolers. It works more than it doesn’t, but they’re also both dumbass fifteen year olds who don’t know when to quit, so there are nights that Dex dumps Derek at the field without another word and Derek spends the next day moping in his bed, then moping in his hollow until one of them has enough guts to go and apologize.

And sometimes, their arguments are about whether the pet rock was the best cash grab of all time, or how much money it would have cost to fake the moon landing, or whether it’s a terrible idea for Derek to try a backflip on the ice.

What it comes down to is this: even when they fight, at least Derek feels alive. At least he knows the person he’s talking to cares, about something. They’re not always in sync about how they see the world, but Dex is real in a way the kids at Andover never are, and willing, in his mulish way, to consider Derek’s point of view after a shouting match. And, for all the faces and weird noises he makes, he’s a good listener. Derek practices his public speaking assignment on him and his oral presentation for Spanish; Dex claps in the right places and throws pebbles at him when he’s avoiding eye contact too much. He asks after Derek’s family and his team, and almost always remembers to ask Derek about his games. Derek thinks he probably follows Andover hockey more closely than Shitty’s parents do. Several invitations to their home games have been extended, but Dex always apologizes before turning them down.

Derek doesn’t put it into words until the day Dex sets him to work gathering herbs “for reasons” and they’re sitting in the dirt and fog picking through weeds and chirping each other about their bad hand-eye coordination. Derek has mist in his face and there’s soil caked under his nails from digging up tiny sprouts and silvery roots, but it’s been the best part of his day by far.

“How’d you get dirt on your nose?” Dex asks when Derek delivers another handful of shoots to him.

“Just living that natural life, Dexy.” Derek swipes at his face with the back of his hand, but from the look that crosses Dex’s face he’s not finding much success. He makes another attempt with the heel of his palm this time.

“No, you- there’s even more now,” Dex says irritably. He reaches up, as if to brush the smudge away himself, but aborts the motion halfway and digs him hand harder into the ground instead.

Derek grins, and tries again. “Did I get it?” he asks as he deliberately streaks dirt from the bridge of his nose across his cheek. The corner of Dex’s eye twitches as he fights with himself, until Derek slowly and deliberately digs up a solid handful of muck, ready to plaster it to his own face.

Dex dives for him as he brings his hand up in slow-motion, flattening him to the ground as they battle over Derek’s hand.

“You’re a literal child, I swear to god,” Dex hisses, wrestling Derek's arm in place long enough to smear most of the dirt off.

“Lots of adults enjoy the rejuvenating properties of a mud mask, bro.” Derek pats his cheeks gently with what's left of the soil on his hands, and offers the remainder to Dex. “Give it a try. Refreshed skin will bring out your freckles more.”

“Why would I ever want that.” Dex has to pin Derek’s arm down with his shoulder to protect his face.

“Seriously? People would kill for the Look you got going on, dude.” Dex’s eyes narrow when he hears the capital L, but Derek continues. “You're like a concept painting of autumn. All gold and red and orange.”

“What does that even mean, you weirdo?” Dex groans into the dirt as he rolls away from Derek, ending in a patch of brambly leaves that stick in his shirt.

“It means you’re beautiful inside and out. Own it.”

“Were you put on this earth to torment me?”

“Maybe! Aw, that's cute. Like we were made for each other.”

“What.”

“Well, like, if I exist just to annoy you, and you exist to be my bff, then it's kinda like we were made for each other, right?”

“Wait- are we even having the same conversation right now?” Dex asks, confused. He bounces up like a pop-up book insert to give Derek his classic squint of suspicion. “Who's what now?”

“You’re my best friend, Dex, is what I’m saying,” Derek tells him, smiling at him sideways from where he's still tipped over into the mud. This is what it should feel like, right? This comfortable, unfiltered ease that Derek has grown used to in Dex’s presence. No pretenses, no fear of letting his chill slip or his anger surge. Derek is Derek, and Dex, even with all his secrets, is Dex, and that's all they need.

“Oh. That’s not where I thought this was going. Are you sure?” Dex asks, scratching awkwardly at his hair tucked under his cap. He cut it recently, choppy and slightly uneven; Derek suspects he may have done it by hand himself. Hopefully not with the hatchet. He seems to be in disbelief, so Derek solves the problem the only way he knows how: by being extra annoying.

“No, actually, now that I think about it more, I don't know if I can be friends with someone who’s afraid of barbershop quartets.”

“Oh my god, I'm not afraid of them, I just think the striped vests are fuckin’ weird! And the hats, too, Jesus. It's creepy, okay?”

“You are legit the strangest dude I know. You scared of 90s boy bands too? Leather pants, frosted tips?”

Dex undergoes a deep, full body shudder of disgust, visibly trying to shake the memory off himself. “Quit it, Nursey-”

“Matching track suits! Bandanas and denim overalls!”

“I don't understand how the hell we’re still friends,” and Derek’s smile must be embarrassingly real, because Dex flushes that nice shade of red he gets when he's flustered but not angry, and half-heartedly gives Derek a “yeah, okay, me too,” which, in the current flow of the conversation is a non-sequitur, but Derek gets it.

When it draws close to six, Dex packs up his basket and walks Derek back out, even though Derek has got a pretty good handle on navigating the outer ring by now, where the forest isn't yet labyrinthine and dim. Like always, he halts at the edge, but this time, he stops Derek with a hand to his arm, his skin warm despite the biting coldness in the air.

Dex is about to say something, but Derek word vomits on him before he can speak up. “You wanna come visit my dorm? We could watch Netflix, eat stale pop tarts.” It's such a fantastic proposition that Derek is surprised Dex doesn't immediately begin heckling him.

“Sorry, but I, uh, also gotta get home. Besides, you know they'd never let me into your prep school dorm room. Blue collar cooties,” he says with the sort of uncasual shrug that says he's accepted long ago there are places he isn't meant to go.

“I can't believe you just used the word cooties in a sentence,” Derek says, trying to lighten the mood, because even he's more than willing to sneak Dex in, doesn't mean his friend wants to go. He probably wants to keep their lives compartmentalized. They can share the woods; everything else is off-limits. That's okay. Derek can handle that.

“Some of us have to make do with our dollar store vocabulary.”

“I didn't say I didn't like it. You have the best cooties,” Derek says solemnly and clasps Dex’s shoulder.

Dex shakes him off, but cracks a smile, so it's a solid win. “Shut your face, Nursey. You know I wouldn't fit in with those guys. You'll just have to bring your pop tarts here. Not the laptop though; electronics don't work right in the woods.”

Derek swallows thickly, suddenly overcome with this invitation. It's new. Dex almost always sees Derek off with a demand that he watch his back and stay in school, like some kind of twisted after-school special. He never makes any indication that he actually wants Derek to visit, though Derek’s learned enough of his tacit signs by now to know that Dex doesn't mind his company. “Yeah? What flavor?” he asks when he unties his tongue.

“Wild berry. Extra stale.”

“I'll open a pack and leave it in my math binder for a week.”

Dex must remember that Derek avoids even touching his math materials if he can, because he laughs, and gives Derek a little shove closer to the field. “I'm counting on it. Hey, we need to make some ground rules though.”

“Rules? Like the name prohibition.”

The first couple of times they ran into each other again Dex had reiterated the ironclad importance of Derek never, ever uttering his name while in the woods. Dex nods now, relieved that Derek’s been bludgeoned with that information until it stuck.

“Right. Never tell anyone your name; that’s the most important one. Rule number two: don't trust anyone you meet in the woods. Got it?”

“Uh, what's that supposed to mean? Didn’t I meet you in the woods?”

Dex makes a complicated face and a jerky, ambivalent motion with his hand that Derek does not understand at all. “There's just some strange people in here sometimes,” he says, still hedging around something. “Be wary around them. If they ever try to make you break rule number one, get the fuck outta there. Even if it’s me, okay?”

What? Why would Dex ever…”Okay? If you say so?” What’s Dex afraid of? Brainwashing? Doppelgangers? Clones??

“Promise me, Nursey,” Dex says intensely, gripping Derek’s elbow tight. “I might not always be around to watch out for you.”

Derek must look too hesitant still, because Dex pinches his arm and he lets out a yelp. “Alright, chill, Dex. I promise.” Then, narrowing his eyes, he ventures to ask, “Is this a cult thing? ‘Cause my parents know people. We can help.”

“It's not a cult thing. And if it were, it’s not like I’d admit it.”

“Hmmmm.” Derek looks around, giving the woods a leery once-over, before leaning in to hiss, “Blink twice if they’re watching us. Blink three times if they’re holding you against your will.”

Dex stares at him for a few seconds before blinking deliberately twice (!), then a few more times for a total of five. Derek’s brain flies into overdrive as he tries to decipher this. Is it five as in two plus three? Is he giving Derek a signal? Or is he just messing around?

While he dithers over this, Dex purses his lips and blows a sharp stream of air right into Derek’s eyes. He recoils, clutching at his face.

“Ow, what the fuck, Dex!”

“That’s enough cultist bs for one day. Time to go home, Nursey. Walk slowly; wouldn’t want you to trip on literally nothing again and ruin your pretty face, city boy.”

“Ha ha,” Derek grouses, still rubbing his eyes. He’s well aware of his bad skin and awkward legs. Dex doesn’t need to rub it in. “D’you practice those lines on the squirrels before you try them on people?”

“Don’t be dumb. You ever seen a squirrel around here?” Dex snipes back, but the corners of his eyes crease in a smile and he mutters, “I practice on the trees.”

Derek is still laughing as Dex shoves him out onto the field toward home.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Five)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Links to past installments:  (One) (Two) (Three) (Four)

My own Jamie,

Almost six months ago, I learned that you survived Culloden. You made history, my darling! Q.E.D.

As many nights as I’ve lain awake in those months cursing myself for not having looked sooner, I know I shall thank God every day of my life for the series of events that led me at last to the right pages, to you. When I fully realized what it meant— that you had been spared the death you faced so bravely that April morning, the death that has haunted my thoughts and my nightmares for so long— It was like a wound, the oldest and deepest scar ripped back open, inch by inch. I was completely laid bare from it, from the storm of emotions warring within me: such joy, such anguish for the lost time (how many more years could we have had, Jamie, had I looked?), such fear—and then joy again, because the years of grief could now be ended, and *against all reason!* I could see you again.  

Likewise will I thank God every day for the small voice in my head that nudged me at the very last moment to go first to Lallybroch, rather than to your shop in Edinburgh. Please thank Jenny for me. She explained everything. 

It is for the best, that it happened this way; easier, I think, for all concerned. Perversely, despite the shock, I find myself smiling in this moment: for we promised there would be no lies between us, remember? It is a promise I make to you again, today. You can know, then, with absolute certainty, that it can be no lie when I tell you that I am glad — glad and on-my-knees grateful to Heaven— that you have found true happiness. 

After all the pain and the loss, the war and the hunger and the suffering you’ve endured, to know that you have a wife with whom you’ve found something new and wonderful; that you have had the joy of holding your own children in your arms, to have seen them be born and grow? It is a balm, Jamie, a comfort to know that despite all the cruelty fate has dealt you—dealt us— you have been blessed with such great and abundant joy. Never would I wish anything less for you, just as I know you would not for me. 

It is my deepest prayer that as you read these words, you will know the truth of them, will be able to feel my heart through the page, and KNOW that from its very depths, I wish you every happiness with your wife and your daughters. 

And yet I couldn’t leave, couldn’t go back from whence I came, without telling you about another little girl, who was born the 23rd of November the year of Culloden. 

I hope the contents of the brown packet, here enclosed, tell you more than any words could about your daughter—our daughter—Brianna Ellen.

Jamie was shaking—no, he was — crumbling. 

Every breath wrenched through him, agonizing, and the tears were falling, blurring his vision. He had to sit back on his haunches to keep them from dropping onto the page and blurring her precious words. 

Her words

CLAIRE’s

His hands were quaking with

November

with EVERYTHING

Jesus, GOD in 

Couldn’t

He COULD NOT think

Thoughts, words, they were—

They failed him, simply abandoned him as he shook on the study rug. Only his body seemed to know the way, for he was snatching for the parcel, tearing at the string binding the paper. There was an oily, unidentifiable wrapping within, then a layer of soft flannel, and then —   

The sound that escaped him—He didn’t even know there existed such a sound within him. It was terrible and beautiful at once, and though it was in no language, what he felt, his lips over and over formed a word, the only word he could muster: “No….NO….” 

For as though a great knife had cut through those terrible, looming stones on the accursed hill, Jamie held his infant daughter, newly-born, sleeping there in the palms of his hands. The portrait—picture?—painting?—was all in shades of grey, and yet somehow lifelike as a true bairn in miniature before him, like peering through a spyglass straight into that distant life.

He had not a single thought to spare for how, or by what means…

He could only trace the bitty wee fists curled on the blanket, the sweet wisps of hair on the tiny skull.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” 

He couldn’t look away, could not even blink, though tears were coursing downward. 

God, the child —this very child — 

—delivered safely into the world and into the arms of her mother—her mother.…

The babe had lived—LIVED.

The pad of his thumb caught slightly as he caressed her cheek, and the portrait slid upward just enough to reveal — “Ohh…Jesus…”

She was grown to a toddling child, eating a cake that was smeared all about her face. And damn him if he didn’t LAUGH amidst the weeping to see just how pleased with herself she looked for it, a cuddly toy raised in triumph like a sword, four wee teeth visible as she giggled out a victory cry.

There she was again, older, standing in a great snowfall, naught but wee cheeks and grinning eyes visible under the great padded suit she wore against the cold. 

Older, still. Three? Four? Sitting proper-like in a pretty frock with her hair combed smooth. 

Such a sweet face—

Older, still, standing with a wee box in her hand beside a giant something with wheels, proud and eager, eyes bright.

And then he was gasping as the spyglass world ignited into blazing, brilliant colors. He saw his daughter’s hair, red and victorious and shining against the black coat of the huge dog she hugged tight; saw the pink flush of her cheeks, spread down her neck as it always did his, when he was happy and exuberant.

On and on flashed the paintings, these captured moments of his daughter’s life.

Going fishing and doing a damn fine job of it. 

Playing uproariously in the sea-surf, splashing and laughing with complete abandon.

Absolutely lovely as as she grew out of girlhood, and God, how vividly he could see Claire in her, as she did—in the lines of her, the way she held her mouth, tilted her head—that broad, clear brow that begged to be kissed, reverently—

Laughing, carefree, safe. 

Braw and strong as she chopped wood. Good lass!

Gazing softly out a window, seeming not even to notice her image being captured. 

On 

and on

and on 

until he was gasping and looking at the last portrait, of an achingly beautiful young woman sitting on a rock before a fire, making camp for the night, perhaps. Her face was cast in the same golds and red as her hair; the dreams of her heart seeming to dance across her eyes—as they always did her mother’s. His daughter…grown.  

The paintings were strewn all around him on the carpet, a tableau of her; her life. On his knees he bowed over them, overwhelmed and shuddering with great sobs as he looked, and looked, and looked.

She was—

She would be—

…..she was well.  

The child HAD been safe.

It hadn’t been for naught. 

He fell, then, and sheltered her like a cloak, keeping his child, his daughter, safe and shielded from the world for just one moment; safe…his….

Brianna

It was only sudden, ripping, screaming panic that yanked him out of the quiet calm, searching wildly, fumbling with desperate hands—

But relief tore from his throat just as suddenly as he found a second page: 

Not everything can be captured in a photograph, of course (that’s what they’re called. Did I ever tell you about them?), and there’s so much I long to tell you about this wonderful person.

Will you believe she’s been taller than me since the age of thirteen? She carries it like a queen, though, like I imagine your mother did. She doesn’t slouch or try to hide. Not Bree. 

Oh, yes: most people call her Bree, for short. 

She bites her nails, when she’s thinking hard. I don’t even think she notices when she’s doing it.

She’s absolutely brilliant, Jamie, studying at one of the top universities in the world to be a historian. You would be so very proud of her. 

She’s not perfect, of course. Perhaps her biggest flaw as half-Scottish is that she HATES whisky, haha. I’ll do my best to win her over, though, don’t you worry. 

She’s a spectacular artist, another way in which she takes after her grandmother. She captures you, completely. 

That statement, actually, is true in more ways than one. Our Brianna is captivating, in every way. 

She’s an absolute wonder with maths and figures —as natural to her as breathing, it seems, just like they are for you. 

She smiles in her sleep, just like her father. 

She’s so like you, Jamie, it breaks my heart. 

After Frank died—But Lord, I haven’t said anything of him. 

It was two years ago. He had a good, full life, and he loved Bree more than anything in the world. He could have been cruel, could have taken out his anger upon the child, the very breathing manifestation of the ways in which I’d betrayed him—but he didn’t. From the moment he first held her, Frank loved her as his own, and while things between he and I were tenuous, to say the least, I will always love him for the father he was to her, for the sacrifices he made for her. I hope that is a comfort to you, and not a blow. 

After he was gone, after giving her time to grieve, it felt important that Bree should know about you, about the stones. It took—well, it frankly took a bloody lot of luck and a jolly good miracle to get her to believe, *but she does.* She loved Frank with all her heart, but she knows now that Jamie Fraser was her father. IS her father. 

You should know that she was instrumental in finding you. She persisted when I would have faltered under the doubts and the fears. As ecstatic and overjoyed as I was at the news that you were alive, I was so afraid Jamie, for you, for me, for Bree. 

Even though I know she, too, was plagued with fears, she remained strong; and she kept ME strong. Even at the very stones, when I was so wracked with guilt over leaving her forever that I would have stayed, for her sake, she was there to strengthen me, to tell me not to look back. She said that she was giving me back to you, and that if I didn’t go, *she* would. ‘Someone has to find him and tell him I was born,’ she said, and she meant it. 

THAT is the kind of person your daughter is growing to be, Jamie: determined, and brilliant, and selfless for the sake of those she loves; *and that includes you.* She asked me to give you a kiss, just from her. I’ve left it here, on the page, for you to keep, always. 

Brianna has been the greatest joy of my life since we parted, a joy that would have been richer only if I had been granted the grace to raise her with you at my side. Thank you for her. THANK YOU for making me go on, for her sake. Despite everything, it has been a good life. Even in those long years of grief, I had the joy of seeing you every day, of seeing your spirit, there in the child of our love. And I’m so very grateful. 

I’ll keep telling her about you. There wasn’t enough time, before I left. She’ll be able hear everything, now. I promise. 

Jamie shook his head hard, fast, feeling for a third page that wasn’t there. “No…” 

Be happy, Jamie Fraser, and LIVE. 

“No,” he moaned. his eyes clinging to the fleeting words, even as he begged them not to stop. “Claire…”

Love, always, 

“Mo nighean donn, don’t —  

Claire

Those next seconds were everlasting, each terrible, catastrophic truth echoing in his soul like the toll of a great bell, over and over. 

She had been here

Claire had been here

She left

Claire left

Because Jenny—

She was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, crying hard into Ian’s shoulder. When the study door crashed open, her head shot up and she jumped to her feet, her face pure terror. “Jamie, mo ch—”

“When?” He snarled it, and Jenny convulsed with a deep sob like a swallowed scream, and covered her face with her hands. 

Jamie was thundering toward her, a veil of red over his vision as he demanded, “WHEN?” 

Ian—in a shockingly deft and smooth movement given the leg—shot to his feet, shielding Jenny from Jamie’s rage with his body. 

In all truth, the rational parts of Jamie’s mind were glad for Ian’s presence, for that was the only thing keeping the blood rage from taking control, from taking revenge. “WHEN was she here, woman?” he bellowed over Ian’s shoulder,  “How fucking long did ye see fit to keep—”

Ian shoved him, eyes blazing. “You’ll NOT talk that way to—” 

“Mor—ning—”Jenny sobbed, her voice a strangled whisper, “—gone before—Jamie! Oh, Jamie, I ken I’ll—never for—give mys—for—” 

“HOW MANY MONTHS?”  he roared, overtaken by despair, overtaken by rage, becoming a nameless beast under it. “HOW MANY YEARS, JENNY?” 

“This morning—” she wailed, “To—TO—DAY—” 

Nothing. 

Silence. 

And then a great wave, tall as a mountain, rose up within Jamie, blasting out everything within him in a single cataclysmic moment of clarity. 

Today

T O D A Y

Then she was—

She could be no more than—

He vaulted up the stairs four at a time, paying no heed to Janet and Wee Ian and the others who were gathered at the top of the staircase, wide-eyed and pale and gaping.

Less than a minute later, he thundered back down past them all, breeks only half-laced under his boots, traveling bag on his back. 

“No,” Jenny moaned, grasping at his sleeve as he passed and trying to hold him back. “Jamie, ye canna—Ye CANNA catch her, she's—GONE—she’s—”

He shook her off, hard enough to knock her off-balance, and ran to the kitchen, shoving what food he could lay his hands on into his sack and moving straight to the door, so crazed with determination he could barely see what it was he took. Food didn’t matter. Fatigue, already tugging at him, didn’t matter. Claire was— 

“Jamie, she’s nearly a day ahead—” Jenny caught the handle just as he did, eyes absolutely wild. “Ye dinna even ken where she’s bound or—” 

He spared his sister one look, and let all the hate and contempt, the rage and the betrayal show there as he growled, “I ken precisely where she’s bound.”