#doing a lot of little drawings to practice writing IDs so like. please let me know if they’re shit o_o

[frogs-in3-hills]

‘danganronpa’? isn’t that the funny game with harukawa maki in it?

[ID: A digital illustration page filled with drawings of Harukawa Maki from Danganronpa V3. They are done in a slightly pixelated style with simple coloring. Maki is shown with several poses and expressions. The foremost drawing is of Maki flipping her hair with an above-it-all expression. Next, there is a drawing of her sitting and flashing a small but genuine smile. There are three more smaller illustrations: one of her playing with her ponytail with a thought bubble of herself and Momota, one of her sitting with her hair down and a bored expression, and one of her in the Neo World Program. The background is filled with sushi, weapons, roses, and other flowers. In the top right, there is text reading “Top ten bisexual legends in fiction”. End ID.]

[starg1rlie]

hihi! hope youre doing well! ♡ ive never done one of these ask games before but they seem sups cute so i thought id give it a shot ! 💍 for scara please !!

im ambivert!! i really enjoy talking to people and love being around them! id describe myself as a rather calm and go with the flow. im a very patient person and like to see the brighter side of things. im a very physically affectionate person and generally just a pretty happy person 😭 i dont really like confrontation all too much but i will engage in some teasing if i know the other person is okay w it. unfortunately im also the victim of being a HUGE sappy hopeless romantic too 😔 i really enjoy writing :> music and nature are huge inspirations for me and are a big part of my life ! i also draw quite a lot too, it helps relax me and i love making things. i hope you have a great day and thank you for your time! <3 (apologies if this is too long! ^^;;)

(hello, my apologies for taking so long to get to your request, i hope that you haven't been waiting too long...i got a bit sick and i lost my motivation to write, since i dont feel like i'd be pushing out anything worthwhile for my readers at the time, but here i am <3 hope you enjoy)

biking around the city

its dangerous, he says, and yet, he still goes along with it. you first suggested it as a way to get some fresh air (as if the two of you couldn't receive fresh air from the front porch of your house), and he agreed, only because he knows how much you enjoy taking in the scenery of mother nature. of course he didn't expect for you to ask him to hold hands while doing so. if he had, he'd have refused to accompany you and would probably force you to do something else inside the house that wasn't quite so dangerous. he went along with it anyways, linking his fingers through yours as the two of you biked around the neighborhood for a bit. then scaramouche insisted the two of you head back, because it was getting late and your parents would probably murder him if he kept you out for too long.

he'll play the piano in the middle of the night

even though his mother had previously forced him to learn how to play the piano, he still secretly enjoyed it, despite all the smacks to the hand he received from his instructor. he hadn't played in a while and he felt a little nostalgic one night, so he plopped himself down in front of the grand piano, flipping the cover open and letting his fingers brush against the piano keys. slowly, he dipped into a simple melody he first learned, then ascended into a more complicated tune. all the while, he never looked up from his work, playing and playing until he played the last note. a clap startled him and he jumped up from his seat, whirling around to face you. you didn't tell me you played the piano, you'd say as he came over to wrap his arms around you. that's a one-time thing, he replied. only it wasn't; he started playing more and more every night, and you, upstairs in the bedroom, would listen contentedly under the covers, happy that he continues to play.

introduce him to romance

he legit hasn't had a single romancic occurence in his life (poor boy), and does not understand how you can be so sappy and romantic all of the time. so when you sat him down one night, scaramouche couldn't help but feel a little skeptical about the whole ordeal. romance wasn't his thing, not really, anyways. but you tossed a copy of "to all the boys i've loved before" and left him to "do his thing". a few hours later, you hear sobbing from downstairs and rush to see what's the matter. why are you crying? you asked him, rubbing a hand soothingly over his back. this book is so fucking sad, he'd say, wiping at his runny nose first and then his eyes. honey...it's a romance book...you replied, a little confused. i know. it's so fucking bad.

he'll teach you how to waltz

scaramouche isn't much of a dancer himself, but since there is a formal dance coming up at his school, and he wants to take you as his date, he practiced for weeks on end, ever since the school announced the dance. when he finally felt good about his performances, scaramouche invited you to his living room and placed a hand over your waist, the other gently clasping your hand in his. together the two of you swayed around the room until you collapsed into an exahusted heap, erupting into giggles. what's this for? you inquired, gesturing at his tuxedo and neatly combed hair the next day. what did you think i asked you to dance with me for last night? he shot back, re-adjusting his tie. we're going to the dance. with that, he promptly drags you out of the house to drive to the dance.

listens to your onslaught of playlists

it seems every day you manage to make a new playlist for him to listen to. him? he prefers indie pop and would rather slit his throat than listen to anything other than his chill music. however, since you put time and effort into the playlists, he'll scroll through it and play some of the songs in there. eventually, he'll find his head bobbing along to the songs and will scowl to himself, ripping his headphones off and glaring at his phone. your playlists...aren't as bad as i thought they'd be, scaramouche said the next day. his eyes narrowed just a bit. but we'll be talking more about your music taste in the future.

he'll organize a hike and picnic

since you seem to love nature so much, scaramouche mentally mapped out a plan for taking you out one weekend for a hike, and then a picnic at a pretty area, even going so far to take the scenic route instead of the shorter route. backpack and picnic basket in tow, he'll determindely hike up the hill with you, even though his feet are killing him and he'd much rather be relaxing back at home, watching riverdale. when the two of you finally reached the summit, he keeled over on his hands and knees, gasping and panting heavily. nope, this man is not in shape. want some water? you offer him, holding out a bottle of cold water for him. scaramouche accepted it gratefully and gulped half of it down before swiping at his chin. you're lucky that i decided to go through with this, otherwise we'd be rewatching riverdale again at home, he said pointedly, wiggling his index finger at you while he tried controlling his breathing.

[prettyboykatsuki]

♡  bakugou headcanons that feel like a warm hug ♡

➳wc ;; 1.2k (oh my god. what is wrong w me.) 

➳ a/n ;; or my bakugou brain-rot that never goes away. thanks for being my comfort character, you fucking gremlin. forgive the silly title. 

♡ always makes little adjustments to the environment for you. he’s observant to a fault so if there’s something even a little off and it happens to bother you, he’s trying to work around it. 

♡ good at playing guitar but not good at reading music. he can throw something together if you give him a chance but he’s not good at trying to recreate someone elses memory. he’s not like.. musically gifted either but he likes how guitar sounds 

♡ thinks about getting a lot of piercings in his ear because he thinks they’d look cool but is kind of too nervous? the idea of a needle going through his skin is a ick. when you start dating, he drags you to his appointments lol - won’t admit it but he thinks he looks so hot when he gets them. takes a bunch of selfies <3 

♡ needs to be moving constantly. can’t sit completely still to save his life. when he listens to music, he moves his head. sometimes he just runs his thumb over his fingers. 

♡ really, really bad at talking. not in the sense he can’t communicate (that too) but he just likes listening in conversation. rarely adds his own thing. but when he does - always accidentally says something super meaningful 

♡ enjoys subtle physical touch because it is literally intimate he melts inside. a hand on his forearm or shoulder. your legs over his lap. small things that show how comfortable you are. 

♡ likes being held cause he’s a big ass baby lmfao 

♡ wont admit it but enjoy when you choose pretty or colorful bandages for his cuts he won’t himself but it’s like keeping you in his pocket wherever he goes.  

♡ really needs you to find him attractive dslksjk it’s not that he ever thinks he’s particularly ugly. but he didn’t really assign importance to his appearance at any point in his life, yet now he puts in a scary amount of effort. readjusts his hair so much more, makes sure his clothes fit good. fixes his fuckin’ face lol 

♡ likes chewing gum a lot and always has a pack on him. really proud of how big he can blow bubbles and will be a little sad if you’re unimpressed. 

♡ is overly sentimental about things you’ve made him - especially if it’s something super dumb. you drew him a silly little sketch of him in a frog hat? it’s in his wallet behind his id. freaks out when he thinks he’s lost his wallet 

♡ LOVES phone calls. yes he still hates talking. but the way his face looks when he listens to your voice. eyes half-lidded, shamelessly smiling - it’s so tender and so lovesick. 

♡ terrible first grader hand-writing. he tries to write them for you in the beginning of your relationship (to be romantic or some shit) but they’re so incomprehensible pls. if he focuses on it - it can be legible but most of the time ... yea no. 

♡ doesn’t favor tea or coffee but prefers tea if he has to drink one. 

♡ crazy good at eyeballing measurement. even in baking. once made a perfectly good bread without weighing anything and doesn’t get why that’s so wild. 

♡ has the phone on his text set to be bigger even though his eyes are fine. 

♡ lets you do the layout thing on his iphone and decorate as you please. says he doesn’t care but when he sees you made it hero themed/fit with his aesthetic - he got so red it was so cute. 

♡ hates shopping in store. will still always go with you because the one time you went alone a store clerk hit on you.  

♡ so practical. he started couponing when he was in his early twenties like an old man. checks the news and weather the night before, every night. never misses doctors appointments. 

♡ shit at any form of visual art. drawing, painting etc - cannot do it to save his life. but he tries. his hands shake when he tries to draw hearts for you 

♡ blows the eyelashes off your cheek super gently whenever he notices. he’ll like.. take your face in his hands and blow so softly like he’s gonna hurt you. 

♡ used to agree to make pinky promises with you as a joke. now though? automatically holds his pink out for you to take it. straight up pouts if you don’t. 

♡ you two have a song and when it comes on, he’ll sing it back to you. any other time? any other song? he wont. but he always sings your song even without realizing, just mouths it. 

♡ enjoys when you put your hands under his shirt and just leave them there and hug him like that. skin to skin contact is elite but only from you. 

♡ hamsters adore this man. they just do. 

♡ draws frowny faces on your eggs with hot-sauce 

♡ soul leaves his body when you play with his hair and scratch his scalp. the tension in his neck literally disappears and he just sighs that shit relaxes him like crazy 

♡ the first time he says i love you, you’re tying his tie for his first hero event. you’re telling him to that the color looks good on him and you’re smiling. it honestly it just slips. he went on to win an award that night. 

♡ his favorite memory of the two of you was when you were trying to leave the grocery store one afternoon. it was raining heavy as shit. you pulled him in under your clear umbrella and just stood there. he doesn’t know why but that means a lot to him. 

♡ cares a lot about his dads approval on his work specifically. him and his dad have a really specifc bond and he actually admires him quite a bit. 

♡ nothing makes him cry like “im proud of you”. especially when it’s for something small. it’s just something he didn’t hear enough in a sincere way. 

♡ likes fruit flavored sweets over chocolate (generally needs something to do w his mouth cause it helps him think. bad oral fixation) so he keeps little candies on him 

♡ shit at video games. terrible at them with the exception of mario kart? for some reason. 

♡ always loses his keys 

♡ stutters every!single!time! he tries to compliment you. it’s been YEARS. 

♡ takes a melatonin gummy before bed and always drinks a glass of water 

♡ buys you flowers and keeps them too. like does the upkeep on it and replaces them if the wilt. suggests pressing them to keep them for longer. 

♡ lowkey cries really easily. he just gets overwhelmed w his feelings some times and it makes him cry even if he doesn’t want too. you and the bakusquad are sworn to secrecy over it though 

♡ wears his ring around his neck on a chain bc it’s easier to show off. 

♡ naturally good at doing hair! 

♡ likes sneakers but wears dr. scholl's because he walks a lot and is on his feet for most of the day w his job. just being careful. 

♡ loves u a lot <3 

[kkusuka]

Thank you so much for writing my Kenma and Suna imagines I’m in love with them 😍😍😍 and I have another idea for Iwa 🤪🤪 so imagine y/n and Iwa are like best friends ((with mutually pinning)) and they are hanging out after practice just chilling in his room and y/n is like tired of waiting for him to make a move so they decide to be bold and grab his laptop “Iwa lets watch porn” and he just dies and just nods his head. So like while watching it he’s trying so hard not to get a boner which is pissing y/n off so they decide to ramp it up so they turn to Iwa and say “Iwa.....is it okay if I touch myself?” And his face just FLUSHES!! He just squeaks out a yes while thanking the gods above for letting him experience this. So y/n starts doing the do and Iwa still does NOTHING so they lean their head on his shoulder sighing and moaning in his ear and he’s just holding on to a thread his dick the hardest it’s ever been his heart racing his minding fogging and then y/n grabs his hand and brings it to her ✨coochie✨ and says “Iwa please help me, my fingers aren’t as big as yours” and then the string breaks and Iwa pounces and yes pound town for the next few hours 🤪🤪

I think I’m gonna start signing these with a made up name cause I want to keep my account private but I love your writing and writing style and 💖💖😍😍😍 - ✨Puppy🤩

you, puppy, have a mind for the gods.

daddy iwa doesn't play 

fem reader <3 

cw- jdaffy kink

--

it felt like having a crush on a rock. that’s what you tell people when thy ask about you and Iwa. you liked him, you liked him a lot. and you had a sneaking suspicion that he liked you back. or you knew because oikawa has told you saying he as sick of you guys dancing around you feelings, but that didn't count. 

and since you knew him so much, and you were very self aware, you came to the obvious conclusion the neither of you would ever tell the other about their feelings. 

but with that constantly running through your mind you subconsciously started to try and make a move. it worked! sometimes. and this, him practically ignoring you for a volleyball clip, was not one of them. 

i mean come on! you were in spandex and one of HIS shirts, never mind the fact you were hanging off his extremely buff arm. you didn't even know id he realized that he was drawing circles on your hip, the boy didn't know how turned on you were. 

then all of a sudden you remember what a fried had told you. she had watched this stupid rom-com and never stopped talking about it. you desperately searched your mind for the exact thing she had been saying that got the two together. 

so they were in his room right! and they were watching a movie then all of a sudden she asks to watch porn! weird but he agreed and they were both so turned on that they hooked up! isn't that crazy yet the smoothest thing you've ever heard? 

and before you could even think: 

“Iwa? wanna watch porn?” 

frozen. was he having a wet dream? it sure felt like it. he had to take a second to look around hos  room to make sure it was real. this was it, you handed a golden opportunity to him. “o-ok, yeah, we-we can” damn, he sounded like a twelve year old, hell, right now he felt like a twelve year old. 

so he opened his private browser and almost immediately wanted to close the entire computer. he had been waiting porn the night before, specifically “daddy rails his little girl into the couch” and to make it any worse if possible the girl looked almost impossibly like you. 

and just the way things had been going, you grabbed the laptop before he would move. “Iwa! we watch the same stuff!” before he could even process that one you had started the video and sat back into him adjusting the screen towards him. 

he was too busy thinking about how you had openly admitted that you were into the same shit as him to realize you had grabbed his hand and was playing with his fingers. when the people on the screen finally started going at it you hit him with what he thought was the final blow;

“haj? i’m gonna touch myself okay?” oh, and you touching and rubbing your little clit and you just and— oh god he couldn’t even think. the girl he had jacked off to for years was pulling her panties down and playing with her cunt as she laid next to him.

within five minutes he could hear the squelching and your fingers plunging in and out of your dripping hole. he felt like it was getting harder to breathe, his hands were gripping his bed sheets like his life depended on it.

you had proven him wrong yet again, that wasn’t the final blow not even close. eventually you had huffed and pulled your fingers out of your sopping cunt with a pout. it took you a second before you grabbed his hand, specifically his pointer and middle fingers.

“haj~ your fingers are so much bigger than mine, would you help me out?” you couldn’t even believe that you were saying any of this but the point of no return was far beyond you. this was happening or it wasn’t.

iwaizumi could hear his resolve snapping, you wanted to get fucked? fine.

within the second he was on top of you shoving his fingers into your quivering pussy. “look at that, you’re dripping all over the place, you really are just a simple whore.” he was leaning back, watching his fingers disappear into your depth while his thumb flicked your little clit.

“go on. tell daddy how much you like being his whore. reaching his other hand over he grabbed your cheeks as he continued his assault on your little cunt.

at fisrt you hadn’t even realized he had asked you to do anything, it took him flipping you over and giving your ass five warning slaps for you to formulate a sentence. “tell me. now.”

“i-i love it! da-daddy please, please” good girl, you learned quick. there were still a few things you needed to learn, namely that you belonged to him and being greedy wouldn’t get you anywhere except on your knees.

but he had the rest of the night for that, right now he’ll make sure you’re good and fucked out by midnight.

[the-iceni-bitch]

PLEASEEE write more for august walker! i'm in love with the banter in "welcome home, walker" and how he's grumpy but has a soft spot for the reader. LOVE UR OTHER WORKS TOO <33

Aww, I love Auggie! And it has been a bit since I wrote for him. Soooooo...

PDA

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Words: 2145

Summary: You and Auggie go out with the graduating cadets to celebrate your new assignment.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (innuendo, teasing, sex in a public place, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex), violence (fistfight, implication of gore and death), betrayal, protective!Auggie, TW- implication of impending date rape/mentions of drugs, SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: This got away from me a bit if I’m being honest. I was just gonna do the teasing in the gym but I couldn’t stop myself, so please enjoy this little impromptu fic! And please feel free to send me an ask if there’s a character or kink or anything you’d like to see more of! 

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist here if you want!

You didn’t know how he got you in this position. You could practically feel him beaming over you as you struggled to get out of the hold he had you in. 

“You keep moving like that, you’re gonna make me hard, sweetheart. You want me to fuck you right here on the mat?”

August ground his crotch against your ass to illustrate his point and you let out a moan. Your arms were bent back at your shoulders unnaturally as you scrabbled for some purchase to get out of his grip.

“Fuck off, Auggie. You know the only reason you’re on top right now is because I didn’t get any sleep.” Maybe if you arched your back a little...

August groaned in your ear as your ass rubbed against his growing erection. 

“Shit, Y/N. The director is right there.”

You turned your head as much as you could to see Sloane standing at the gym entrance, surveying the cadets as they practiced their sparring. You wiggled your ass again, making Auggie growl at you.

“You’re not giving me a lot of options, baby. You know my brain doesn’t work when I’m sleep deprived.”

He grumbled and you felt him start to loosen the hold he had on your arms. You grinned to yourself as you wrapped one arm behind his neck, gripping the hair at the base of his scalp and rolling forward. You heard him give a small sound of surprise as you flipped him over, knocking all the air out of his lungs when you slammed him into the mat and wrapping your body around his shoulders, stretching him to the point of pain. 

“Damn it, I thought we were done.”

“I don’t remember tapping out, sweetie.” You gripped his wrist and stretched his arm even further as you squeezed your thighs around his neck. 

He wheezed for a second before a wicked grin spread over his face. “Y’know, when you get me in these holds, I can smell you, and it drives me fucking crazy.”

You almost loosened your hold at his admission but caught yourself at the last second. “August...” you growled in warning.

“I know you’re soaked under these sweats, sweetheart.” He turned his head as much as your hold would allow, running his nose along the inseam of your sweats until you released him with a hiss.

“Fine, it’s a draw.” You mumbled, drawing yourself to your feet as he chuckled darkly. “Equipment room in 5?”

“Walker, Y/L/N, with me.” Sloane gave a beckoning motion and the two of you moved to follow, sighing with frustration. 

You moved with the director as she marched back towards her office, shooting each other apprehensive looks as you considered what she may want to talk to you about.

“Good news you two.” Sloane announced as she closed the door to her office behind you. “We finally managed to get the heat off you from Interpol, and you’re set for a new assignment in Brazil.” She handed you your files detailing the op. “Looks like there’s a Syndicate group operating there, moving weapons through the black market there. You ship out in two days. Please do your best to remember, Syndicate members are assets, not targets.”

“Right, boss.” You murmured, flipping through your ID docs. August just grunted beside you.

“Alright, I heard the two of you are going out with the graduating cadets and trainers tonight to celebrate the end of the course. Don’t overdo it.” She gave you a knowing wink before you turned to leave the office.

“I think she knows about us.” August whispered as the two of you headed to your lockers.

You just laughed at him. “Auggie, honey, we’re the worst kept secret at Langley.” 

“Y/N, Walker, I hear congrats are in order! We’re gonna miss the two of you in training!” Melissa managed to find out everything as soon as it happened, you didn’t know how she got stuck in training instead of the field. “I’ll make sure everyone buys you a round at the club tonight.”

You groaned at that, those goddamn trainers would have you passed out if they got their way. You slammed your locker closed and turned back to August. 

“Meet you at the club, baby. Make sure to do your reading first!” You called over your shoulder as you headed out.

You arrived at the club 4 hours later to see August looking incredibly uncomfortable in the middle of a group of rowdy cadets. You tutted to yourself as you approached him, he always had a stick up his ass.

He saw you then, and his face relaxed as he walked to meet you.

“You’re late.” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the bar. “You know how much I hate talking to these kids.”

“Relax, grandpa.” You smiled before turning to order yourself a gin and tonic. “You gonna dance at all tonight, or just stand there glowering?”

He scoffed into his scotch as you grinned at him, moving closer and rubbing your foot over his calf suggestively. 

“Don’t you start something you’re not prepared to finish, beautiful.”

Just then, Melissa arrived with a tray full of tequila shots, and you let out a groan. This was the second time you got cock blocked today, and you were starting to get frustrated. 

“Look what I’ve got for you!” she said gleefully as the two of you winced at her.

“Melissa, I’ve told you a million times, I don’t do tequila.”

“C’mon, it’s your last night with us, just a couple.”

You took a deep breath and grabbed a shot for yourself, giving August a shrug before tossing it back. He hissed between his teeth as he downed his own.

“Fuck me, you sure this isn’t rubbing alcohol? Jesus, Melissa!”

She just handed the two of you two more with a giggle, and clapped her hands when you swallowed them. Before you knew it she was dragging you towards the dance floor, your head fuzzy from the tequila as you instructed August to watch your cocktail. He gave you a grin before turning back to the bar, but that quickly changed once he noticed movement in your glass.

August clenched his jaw as his arm shot out to grab the cadet that was wandering away from the bar, wrapping his fist around his upper arm with a vise-like grip.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” He growled, a menacing glare taking over his face.

“Get your hand off me, man.” The frat boy idiot actually looked offended as he glanced down at August’s hand.

Walker just tightened his grip as he patted the asshole down, cocking an eyebrow as he pulled a tiny baggie of tablets out of his breast pocket.

“Graham, right? What’s a senator’s nephew doing with… what is this? GHB? Molly?”

“Look, buddy.” The moron gave him a grin like he was his friend as August stared him down. “That piece of ass needs some loosening up. I bet she’s a tiger in the sack.”

August threw your drink in his face before hauling him outside. He considered letting you handle it yourself, but he wanted to let off some steam.

He didn’t say anything, just punched the smarmy bastard in the face. The idiot didn’t even try to defend himself, pathetic.

“What the fuck?! You broke my nose!” Graham held a hand to his face as he stared at Walker in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s not all I’m gonna do to you.” He growled as he set to work.

Five minutes later he stood over his handiwork, wiping the blood off his knuckles as he let out a sigh. That had gotten a little out of hand.

“Fuck.” He muttered, pulling his burner out of his suit pocket and dialing. “Yeah, this is Lark. Send a cleanup crew to the alley outside Sketch. Yeah, some senator’s nephew.” He frowned over the phone. “Because it’s a fucking order.” He hung up, not bothering to wait for the Syndicate’s sanitation team before heading back into the club to find you.

He found you on the dance floor and a hungry sneer came over his face. He strode toward you and wrapped a possessive hand around your throat from behind, drawing you fast against his chest and growling into your ear. You whined as he pulled you away from the group, Melissa beaming at the two of you like an idiot.

“Have fun you two!” She called as August steered you around a corner.

He pressed you into the wall behind a column, his mouth devouring yours as he slotted his knee between your legs. You whimpered as he shoved a hand in the front of your blouse, squeezing your breast viciously before tweaking your nipple to the point of your pain as you arched into his hand.

“Fuck, Auggie. What happened?” You were panting with need as he moved his face down to bury in your neck, his teeth scraping over your throat.

“I’ll tell you later. Are you still drunk?” He moved his other hand to the apex of your thighs and groaned against your chest when he felt your slick coated folds. You weren’t wearing any panties.

“No, the dancing burned most of it off. Shit.” You hissed as he inserted two fingers inside you, stretching you open as he fumbled with his zipper. “Can’t even make it to the bathroom, huh?”

“Sorry sweetheart.” He mumbled as he freed his dick from his slacks. “Sure seems like you were expecting this, though.”

He moved his lips to yours and swallowed your cry as he dipped his hips and plunged into you. His hands wrapped around your thighs and lifted them to wrap around him as he started to move his hips. He tried to move slow so it wasn’t obvious what the two of you were doing, but those goddamn tiny whimpers you were making into his mouth were making it hard for him to control himself.

“God, this cunt feels better every time I’m in it. Fuck.” You were clenching around him with each thrust and your breath was coming in ragged gasps, letting him know you were close. “Jesus Christ, it’s barely been a minute. You’re so fucking sensitive.” He nipped at your bottom lip and stilled his hips for a beat as he teased you.

You slapped his bicep playfully and whined. “Shut the fuck up and move, asshole.”

He braced one hand on the wall and drew his hips back slowly before slamming into you. You buried your face in his neck to muffle your scream as you came apart. Your pussy fluttered around him as every muscle went rigid. He felt you sobbing against him as your muscles quivered in your release, his hips still setting a punishing pace as he fucked you through it.

“Shit, honey.” He murmured against your cheek as you came down. “You make it so easy.”

Your snort turned into a whimper as a particularly deep thrust had him kissing your cervix. “Fuck, Auggie.”

“Yeah, right there?”

You nodded vigorously as your face screwed up in bliss, leaning it back against the wall as he picked up the pace.

His cock was dragging against that sweet spot inside you with each thrust and it was all you could focus on. Your thighs squeezed around him as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm. He loved watching you take it, getting completely lost in your pleasure. And knowing he was the one doing this to you was just icing on the cake.

“You close, gorgeous?” He asked, feeling his own imminent release looming.

“Shit, shit!”

He was extremely grateful for the loud music as you screamed in your release. He swallowed a shout of his own as his cock twitched and his cum spurted into you, painting your insides as his hips faltered and he collapsed against you.

“Jesus.” You whispered as you set your feet on the floor, August still sheathed in you as he softened. “Public sex, who knew?”

You felt his chest rumble against you as he gave a low chuckle, sliding out of you gently before he tucked himself back into his slacks. He ducked his head to give you a tender kiss as he drew down the hem of your skirt over your thighs.

“We should go back to your place.” He whispered after he released you, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m totally fine with it. Lemme just say goodbye to Melissa.”

He grinned as he watched you saunter away, your gait a little wobbly as you tried to keep his cum from leaking out of you. He was really looking forward to your new assignment. The thought of being cooped up with you for several months was making him hard already.

Tags:

@slothspaghettiwrites @stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @jack-skellingtons-stuff @drabblewithfrannybarnes @captain-asguard @harrysthiccthighss @bonkywobble @dslap65 @stanallstarks @macgruberrr @blackestpinkworld @wanderinglunarnights @sebslut @allinhishands

[sunflowersoonyoung]

a devil and an angel | umji & sowon

w.c ↠ 2.3k

pairing ↠ umji x fem!reader x sowon

genre/s ↠ fluff, smut, office au!

description ↠ After a tireless day working as an intern at a publishing company, you enjoy spending the evening venting to fellow intern Yewon. The budding relationship between you and her is inadvertently thwarted by sexy, somewhat mean Vice President Kim Sojung.

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, alcohol

a/n ↠ there may be more parts to this! I feel like I could write more for this AU. I love the contrast between the two relationships! Plus Sowon is so hot in this universe. Also, sorry that it took me so long to write it 😭 I hope it was worth the wait!

-

Collapsing into a chair at an empty table, it was quite relieving to be off of your feet. Although it was only lunchtime, the day had seemed to have stretched on forever. You absently stirred your rice with chopsticks and scanned the dining room for Yewon. She was running late.

As fellow interns from separate Universities, you had developed a close friendship through sharing your daily struggles with one another. As interns, you received low pay, which led to minor exploitations from management - who worked you extra hard and held you to high standards. It was draining, but you were learning far more than University could teach you, so you persevered.

Yewon had a considerably tougher time trying to fit into the workplace. She could be clumsy, but she worked hard to make up for it. Additionally, she had the sweetest personality you had ever encountered. Hence, you had made the effort to befriend her.

Abruptly someone dropped into the seat beside you, their lunch tray clattering on the table surface. Yewon looked exhausted, her eyes swollen with dried tears. She offered you a meek smile.

“You’ve been crying,” you comment, and her smile fades. With her interest fixed on her food, she begins to recount her experience from just a half-hour earlier with a distraught expression.

“I was assigned a printing job, and messed it up,” Yewon sighed, “when I expected one of the managers to come over and scold me, tell me to restart like always, the Vice President Sojung came up to me instead. I-I’ve heard things about her, but nothing compares to seeing her in person.”

You also had heard a smattering of opinions about the Vice President, Kim Sojung. She was a devil in the form of breathtaking beauty, lacking tolerance for mischief and foolery no matter the perpetrator. Ruling with an iron fist, it did not take much to get on her bad side and end up without a job. She explained why Yewon was practically trembling.

“She didn’t say much. Just scoffed and said she would never accept s-someone like me into the company,” Yewon’s lip quivered, blinking back tears. You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her figure against yours in an attempt to soothe her.

Yewon was almost like a younger sister to you - albeit with a dash of romantic tension. To hear of this injustice overwhelmed you with hot fury.

“Don’t listen to her,” you murmured against her hair, “she doesn’t know anything about you, not like I do. You’re the hardest worker I know, Yewonnie.” She draws in a shaky breath, peering up at you from her position buried in your shoulder. Her smile is warm and genuine, making your heart flutter.

“Thanks, (F/n). That means a lot.”

You decided to distract her by recounting your morning, gradually shifting away from the gloomy mood whilst finishing lunch. She seemed grateful for the distraction because despite your assurance she was still shaken.

Eventually, with empty lunch trays in hand, you both stood intending to go separate ways. Yewon cleared her throat and turned back to face you.

“Hey, (F/n)?” She called, her voice small, stopping you in your tracks, “um, do you want to meet up after work and get dinner together?”

You didn’t even try to restrain the wide grin that immediately plastered over your face.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

-

You waited in the frigid evening air by the front of the company building, hands pressed into the pockets of your slacks.

All you knew was that Yewon had a few extra tasks to complete and was going to finish late, knowledge you had gained only thanks to the handful of texts she had managed to send. You didn’t mind waiting for her, anyway.

As you kept your interest upon the passing cars, a woman passed by with perhaps the longest legs you had ever seen. She looked incredible from behind in a tight pencil skirt, hips swaying elegantly with each lengthy step. Stopping at the curb, she fished her phone out of her handbag and thumbed a swift text. As she stood waiting, she turned and caught a glimpse of you.

The realisation washed over you. This gorgeous woman, with glossy raven hair running down her back like a waterfall and sharp fox-like eyes full of intelligence, was none other than Kim Sojung. The descriptions you had overheard matched her perfectly. Your mouth went dry as her gaze fell across you.

“You’re that intern, (F/n),” she mused, pressing a thoughtful finger to her lips, “I’ve heard good things about you.”

Anger boiled up in your throat, and before you could suppress it, a snarky comment slipped free, “it’s a shame you couldn’t be this nice to Yewon. Otherwise, I might’ve believed that you were a kind person.”

Immediately regretting your words, you felt a cold chill trickle down your spine when her initial surprise melted into an amused smirk.

“Oh?” She chuckles lightly and your cheeks flush, “you’re cute.” A sleek black car pulls up to the curb and she opens the door, winking at you before she departed. You’re left stunned to the ground, still untangling the mess of events that just occurred.

Regardless of the animosity that you harboured for her, you had to admit that she was practically oozing sex appeal.

“(F/n)?” A warm hand grasped your shoulder, shocking you from your daze, “Is everything okay?” Yewon was wearing an expression full of concern as she peered back at you. You swiftly grounded yourself and swallowed your surprise.

“S-Sure, sorry. Let’s go.”

-

The night sky was a deep shade of navy, city smog shutting out the stars.

Yewon stumbled, her cheeks pink in the dim light of the streetlamps. With her arm looped around yours, she clung to you, using you as her support. It seemed alcohol did not mingle well with Yewon, even if you’d only had six glasses of beer between you both. You felt glaringly sober compared to her.

“C’mon, we’re almost at your house,” you laughed as she stopped to reach for a tree branch hanging over the sidewalk, her interest captured by the blossoming flowers. You caught one for her and pressed it behind her ear, earning a pleased giggle from her.

Yewon still lived with her family in a spacious house blocked off with a black iron gate, automated with fingerprint ID.

Expecting to simply bid her goodnight and make your way home, it caught you by surprise when she wrapped her arms around your waist. Her hair tickled your nose, clouding your nose with her sweet scent. She hummed contentedly, and it seemed you were not going anywhere for a moment.

“Y-You’re … my favourite person, (F/n),” she stammered, her voice muffled against your shoulder, “I really, really like you.” Tightening your grip on her, you savoured the confession with each passing second - as if taking a breath would shatter the moment.

She withdrew, maintaining eye contact despite the lack of lighting. You could faintly make out her round cheeks and long lashes but still couldn’t measure her expression. Fiddling with her purse, she eventually retrieved a twenty-thousand won bill and placed it in your palm. You gasped and tried to return it but she hushed you softly.

“Use that and get a Taxi back instead of walking,” Yewon spoke calmly, in a manner that convinced you of her growing sobriety.

Leaning forward on the tips of her toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. It left you dazzled, observing breathlessly as she turned on her heel and retreated home through the tall gates.

-

With both of you standing idly by the printer waiting for a copy job to finish, an awkward silence simmered between you. Though you had hoped the alcohol would erase Yewon’s memories from last evening so that she could continue being her sweet, bubbly self and you could pretend that nothing had ever happened, it seemed luck was not on your side.

You accidentally met eyes and Yewon blushed various shades of pink, turning her head away as quickly as she could. She was too innocent. It made you flutter, excited to initiate with her a simple relationship filled with sugary actions. Holding her hand, feeling her head lull against your shoulder as you watch a movie together; little things like that.

“Hey, (F/n), right?” The tension was broken by a passerby manager, someone in charge of the editing team if you remembered correctly, who slowed to stop in front of you.

“We’re having a meeting in room four, can you bring us coffee? There’s six of us. Yewon can finish whatever you’re doing here.” Without even waiting for a response, he was gone, leaving you with a half-explained task. You were not even sure where room four was.

Coffee was not something you were unused to making, however. Usually, when staff members were tied up, it was you who brought them their hot beverages.

After filling six cups, setting them on trays and asking someone where room four was located, you made your way to the meeting room; thankful that the door was already open. You did not expect to collide with someone, the force causing you to lose grip of the tray in your hands. Coffee practically exploded over you and the stranger, hot liquid turning cold as it seeped through your white button-up.

Sojung stared you down, her thin blouse soaked. She looked less than amused; she was fuming, actually. Her jaw squared as she tried to steady her furious breathing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you manage to stutter out, aware of the attention you had drawn from the others in the room. Sojung seems unfazed by your apology and all of a sudden you wished painfully that you could take this hefty mistake back. As much as you hated her, she could end your short career at this company with a single signature.

She took your wrist with an iron grasp and began to drag you down the corridor. This is it, you thought woefully.

Sojung yanked you into her office and slammed the door shut behind you. You stood with your eyes glued to the floor, too afraid to look up and see her enraged visage.

“You messed up big time, young lady,” she scolded, her back turned to you. There was a flurry of movement, the sound of fabric rustling. When you finally looked up at her you were staring at the crease in her back, the clasp in her ivory bra. You almost choked on your spit, but Sojung seemed mostly unbothered, casually hanging her soiled blouse over the back of her chair and stalking towards you.

You gasped as she pressed a card into your hand, realising that it was her personal bank card.

“You’ll go down the street, and you’ll buy me a new shirt. The director is coming to that meeting, and I won’t be embarrassing myself in front of her by showing up in a coffee-stained blouse.”

She stood dangerously close, and it took all of the restraint you possessed not to shift your gaze from her face down to her wispy figure. You gulped heavily, feeling your skin absorb all of the heat in the room.

A slow smirk paints her lips as she observes the effect she has on you. Sojung advances on you, her steps gradual but taunting. Each click of her heels on the smooth flooring marked your demise.

Pressing your back against the door to keep your distance, Sojung placed one finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up towards her. Her bank card slips out of your hand.

“You’re naughty. Aren’t you lucky I like you?”

Her lips grazed yours slightly, ghosting over yours as if to tease you. The contact shot tingles all over your body. Cocking her head, she kissed you roughly.

Sojung wasted no time, possibly because her meeting was looming and she needed that change of clothes pronto. Her tongue pushed against yours, her saliva sweet as it mingled with your own, gripping your wrist and massaging your palm against her breast.

She guided you back to her desk, unbothered by the mess of paperwork that you sat on. You could feel the papers crinkle beneath your backside. Sojung’s assault shifted to your neck, forcing your attention back to her.

Sharp nails buried into your bare thighs as she parted your legs, sliding down your underpants from beneath your skirt. She harshly tested her thumb against your clit, furrowing her brow when you yelped in pleasure, your hips instinctively seeking out her touch by bucking back against her.

“You better keep quiet love,” she hummed, “else everyone will know what we’re up to in here.”

Heat throbbed painfully between your legs when she ducked down, breath clouding against your slick vagina. It took every ounce of strength in your body to swallow the deep moan that threatened to emerge as her tongue tasted you for the first time.

Your hand flies to your mouth, the only way for you to hold yourself back because now she was eating you out with full intensity. It seemed as if Sojung couldn’t care less how difficult it was for you to keep quiet.

One finger slid inside of you and you arched your spine in response, practically throwing yourself back against the desk. Sojung’s grip on your thigh was deliciously painful.

“Fucking come,” she growled, and the command practically makes you come on the spot. You muffle your cries with the palm of your hand, legs trembling as she keeps licking. The overstimulation made you see stars.

You’re almost sobbing, ears ringing and drowning out the sound of her low chuckle.

“I’ll need that shirt now, sweetheart. Get yourself something nice to wear while you’re at it. And don’t worry about the price.”

[i-prefer-the-term-antihero]

Additionally, your thoughts on Dracula and Adrian from the Netflix adaptation of Castlevania? I find Dracula really tragic, and the ending scene of Season 2 crushed me because I was not expecting Adrian to cry. He’s usually so stoic and calm that I didn’t think he would weep, I expected him to just shrug it off like heroes usually do, but no, when given time to process everything, the first thing he does is break down into tears. Sypha was right in calling him a brooding teen in an adult body.

Ohh man. If you just take a look at my writing blog (or anywhere I post my fanfiction) it’ll become pretty clear pretty quickly how I feel about them XD So far all my Castlevania fics have been about the Tepes Family. Adrian and Drac are my favorite characters in the series!! (Though I do love pretty much all the characters in it.)

YES YES YES!!

They did an incredible job making Drac sympathetic and tragic. I don’t know if you know anything about the games, and granted, they couldn’t put a lot of story stuff in the games, but (at least as far as I’m aware) in most of them it’s like “ya, he was an evil dude who did evil things because he was evil.” So it actually would have been pretty accurate to the source to make him just an unsympathetic, irredeemable villain, but they didn’t and I LOVE them for it. Playing Symphony of the Night (Alucards game) after watching the series l was almost longing for that Drac I know and love from the series, (though it’s fun to see evil Drac too).

As I’ve said, I adore redeemable villains, and they did an amazing job with him, to the point where pretty much everyone in the fandom adores him, which is extremely tough to accomplish—even if you write a redeemable villain well, often large parts of the fandom don’t see it and hate the character. I knew that the point was that they were going to defeat Drac but I have to say, especially since I originally knew nothing of the games, I was hoping they’d save him by the end.

I think the fact that he liked and was kind to Hector and Isaac was evidence that he wasn’t too far gone. I mean, the only two people he genuinely trusted and liked in his court were human…that’s so interesting, I wish it was at least talked about, either in the show or in the fandom. I think he actually liked humans, partially or especially because of Lisa, he just...was so angry, and needed someone to blame. He probably ultimately blamed himself for not being there to save her, and it was just easier to blame the humans he once hated/didn’t understand, even if in reality he didn’t hate them as much as he thought he did...

Doing more thinking and research into the show for my “If These Walls Could Talk” fic I recognize now that symbolically it made sense even within the show that he died when Lisa died (which I can explain more about if you want but id probably end up going off on a long tangent so I’ll save it)...but I still thought practically, in the show, he could have still been redeemed.

Omg I LOVED that. The longer I take to sit with it, the more I realize just how much I loved that they put him crying instead of shaking it off.

It’s very interesting that Drac and Alucard are more openly emotional characters. I might be totally wrong, but as far as I remember, they (...and Lisa when she dies, and probably Isaac in a flashback), are the only main characters we see openly cry. It’s a pretty bold move to make any of your characters emotional like that, but especially your villain, and your bold handsome hero. It’s sooo easy to get emotional characters and emotions wrong…or just offputting to some people...but more on that later.

I think Adrian and Drac are both rather sentimental, in an odd way. Much of Drac’s motivations in the show and even in the games (the times his motivations are explained) had to do with his wives (yes he was married before Lisa in the games...unless Lament of Innocence was retconned...) which is interesting. So many of his decisions are based on emotion. He lets Lisa in just because he likes her, he goes to war with the world because of Lisa, he sits in his study mourning her loss, he let’s Alucard kill him… I also notice very often he digs his nails into his palms until they bleed, presumably because if he didn’t he’d hurt someone else (in the scene where he hurts Alucard, he does this). His sentimentality doesn’t diminish is power as a villain, which is SO difficult to accomplish.

 I am emotional myself so I absolutely love to see emotional characters, but for most people, seeing even a normal character be emotional diminishes them in their eyes, or makes them whiny, so making your villain even a little emotional, and having that not take away from the audiences perception of their power as a villain is sooooooo hard to do, and I applaud them for making a so well-beloved, and still villainous and intimidating, but also emotional (at times) villain.

For Alucard. I don’t see any problem with him being emotional, but it makes even more sense if he’s a teen in an adult’s body—which was indeed portrayed quite well.

Yes that was interesting when he cried when drawing his parents!! I wasn’t expecting that when I saw him drawing them. I was enjoying and intrigued by his story so much, then when he started crying I was caught off guard—but in a good way. It really made me feel for him, and understand that he was still grieving his mother, and that knew the gravity of what he was currently doing.

I think it’s kind of important to show that kind of thing in a situation like this. It’s easy to think Alucard hates his dad, and they need to show the emotion of the situation to make it clear “no he doesn’t hate his dad, this actually breaks his heart, he just knows he has to do this.”

I loved when he was telling Trevor and Sypha about how much the world would lose by killing Dracula. It’s really interesting that he hides his emotion with them, and that Trevor and Sypha are so stoic. The son of Dracula isn’t the guy you expect to be the only hero who cries.

In “For Love” when Trevor’s like “Don’t get weepy about it” I was sitting there, sobbing, like “No, please get weepy about it! Let the boy cry for goodness sake!! Give me some emotion!!” But I too was not expecting him to cry like he did, and in grieving the death of his parents...

I knew the crying scene was coming because I’d seen pictures of it on here and pinterest, but I had no context for it. In the end it wasn’t just the weeping itself that made the scene so impactful, it was everything surrounding it. I didn’t know it would happen when he was completely alone (and would be for the foreseeable future), and in grieving his parents, or about the ghosts/flashbacks before it (cementing his grief), or that it was literally the last scene of the season, or that there would be no music for both the scene and the credits thereafter.

And that was what really got me.

Because, firstly, we never got to see any flashbacks to his childhood, and that was what I was begging for the entire series (and hence why its what I write about). To finally get it, and it not to just be something the audience gets to see, but something Alucard himself is seeing... a happy memory he’s seeing when he knows that is completely gone, he cannot hope to have it again, and for him to now be in his father’s place…that’s heartbreaking. Like just having your character cry—let alone those kinds of full-on sobs—is painful enough, showing a son grieving his parents is a particularly heart wrenching kind of sadness, but showing that he is haunted by memories of those parents he lost—not only lost but one of which he killed, and, if SOTN is canon for the show, the other of which he could have saved—of a happy childhood, and he is alone with these memories for the foreseeable future...that is truly heart wrenching.

Also the scene with Trevor and Sypha in the wagon earlier in the episode was super sweet, they could have easily put the Adrian crying scene earlier, and had the Trevor and Sypha scene be the last scene of the season (and Trevor’s game actually does end with them looking into the sunset, so ending with the last scene of “For Love” would be accurate as well), and left it on a positive note, and the audience would have been left with a completeness. But they made a conscious choice put his crying scene last, and it was so powerful, because it made you remember that at the end of the day, he isn’t just our bold handsome hero, he was a son who lost both his parents, and that, to him, this isn’t really a triumph, but a loss. It also kinda confirmed that Drac wasn’t an "evil guy, end of story". That there was reason to grieve him, and to show his son grieving, and to leave it there because of it. It was a personal gravity too

In the end, it was the lack of music in the scene, and even more so during the credits, so theres only his tears, and all you are left with in the end is this amplified emptiness that really did me in. I think I literally sat there, tear tracks on my face, my mouth open when I hit the credits.

Playing Symphony of the Night after watching the show is really interesting in exploring his character. I knew there was very little story, so I wasn’t expecting much from the story, but I actually found that I was beyond excited whenever there actually was some story, and the few lines they did say are stuck with me.

Maria comments early on that Alucard’s not very good at talking. At first I just chalked it up to...weird translations or whatever. But the more I played the game and the more I thought about him in the show...I think she’s right. He’s not very good at talking, yet if and when he does talk he’s quite eloquent, and precise with his words. (This actually makes him a somewhat difficult character to write). I wonder if perhaps this has some connection to his emotionalness. He’s very careful with what he says, and this may spread to what he does—such as being careful when he shows emotion. I’m curious why he’s like this. It could just be his nature, but I wonder if as a kid he was ever hated because he was a vampire—maybe people made fun of him, and he cried, and they made more fun of him because of it—and he learned both to hide his emotions, and that he had to be very deliberate and show people he didn’t mean any ill will with his words. (And he looks older than he is so people might call him immature for acting his mental age). All very speculative, of course. But it’d be fun to write about!

Also, another thing from SOTN that is related to this topic, there was a fight that really struck me (enough I actually wrote a fic about it (inverted recurrence)). SOTN takes plays 300 years after the events of The Netflix Series (aka Dracula’s Curse). Most of the bosses don’t seem to have a lot of meaning story-wise, they’re just there for you to fight. The other day I (Alucard) walked into a boss room...and there were Trevor, Sypha, and Grant (who was omitted from the Netflix series). They were fake versions of them, of course. And there’s no dialogue in the fight so maybe I’m just speculating, but what struck me was that the fact that Dracula could use them against him probably means he still cares about them, even after 300 years. It probably also means that they’re some of the only friends he’s ever had. Granted, he was asleep for a good chunk of those 300 years, still. It goes back to that sentimental-ness I was talking about earlier.

I few years ago I watched the Gravity Falls commentaries, and from them I got a lot of the writing advice I still think about and use today. Alex Hirsch said something on this subject which I really liked which is “Hold your tears.” When a character cries they’ve broken, that’s as far as they can go. So if you make a character cry when the audience themselves doesn’t feel the weight of the scene, or it doesn’t feel like the character has broken yet, it can feel like too...much/cheesy, and distance the audience. especially with cartoons where the way it’s drawn can actually affect your sympathy for the character (it can look weird or accentuated).

They did such an awesome job with this by literally holding his tears until the very end. I don’t know how other, non-emotional people felt about it, but Ive don’t know if I’ve ever seen tears used so well in a show, pack such a punch. To have it not just be a part of the scene but literally the focus, and at the end...it was powerful.

Sorry for the long response, and more importantly, I’m beyond sorry for taking so so SOOO long to respond. I hope you enjoy my response, if you see it <3

P.S. For anyone else who made it all the way to the end, I actually have a Castlevania sideblog now: @symphonyofthewrite !! I’d be beyond happy to recieve asks like this over there, if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts!!

[poeticandors]

Cut to the Feeling Part 3

Poe Dameron x F!Reader (Babysitter!AU)

Summary: After graduating college and needing to have some cash in order to survive while doing an unpaid internship, Y/N decides to take up a babysitting/caretaking job. Little does she know that she ends up working for a familiar face.

Warnings: small mentions of smut, just little flashbacks really, and a ton of angst at the end

A/N: This is for @propertyofpoeandbucky Mystery Challenge! Thanks for waiting patiently, everyone! It’s been wild trying to figure out what to write but I hope this does justice. This one definitely got to me, and you’ll see why.

Part 1 Part 2

GIF by @captain-flint

Booster seat? Check.

First aid kit? Check.

Snacks in case Eva Bey gets hungry? Check, check.

You nod, double-checking the inventory again before finally closing the door. Today was your first official day, and you wanted to be prepared. You had to prove to Poe that you were the best choice.

Heading into the driver’s seat, you buckle up before you put in the address for Eva Bey’s school, and drive off. As you grip the steering wheel, your mind only wandered off. Was this a mistake? Did Poe make the wrong choice, hiring you? Did you make a mistake accepting the position?

No, none of this was a mistake. Sure, you may have slept with the guy who was now your boss, technically, but it was only a one-time thing. Everything had to be professional, which is how you would act when interacting with Poe. Every text between you was simple, it never led to a full conversation. Just simple directions and information that you needed. That’s all it was, and that’s all it needed to be.

Fuck, you taste even better, his deep voice rings in the back of your mind. You can’t help but think back to that night. The image of Poe kneeling on his knees in front of you as he throws your legs over his shoulders is clear as day. The way the light peeked in from outside and how his hands felt as they dug hard into your thighs, how his mouth felt—

Stop!

Shaking your head, you quickly think of something else. You really needed this job, and despite that one night no matter how amazing it was, you would not let that happen again.

Finally, you pull up into the pick-up car line and step out, taking a look around the school. Poe made sure to let you know the earlier you get there, the better chance of getting a good spot in line you would get. The parents can be very competitive, he told you.

You checked your watch, and realized you were right on time, so you started heading to the front office. As you look around, you notice just how much more lavish the vehicles in line were than your own. The front door had a buzzer that you hit to be let inside, and you noticed all the security cameras. This was definitely elite compared to the preschool you remembered going to.

Walking inside, you head straight to the front desk, spotting a receptionist. She gives you a friendly smile, leaning forward.

“Hi! Are you here for a pick-up?”

“Um, yes? I’m here for Eva Bey Dameron.”

“Oh, you’re the nanny, right? Mr. Dameron called and let us know you would be picking her up from now on.”

“That’s me,” you nod.

“Well, if I could see your ID please? It’s just a procedure when we get someone new for pick-up. I’ll copy it and put it in Eva Bey’s file.”

“Sure,” you reach into your bag and grab your wallet, pulling out or driver’s license to hand to her.

“Perfect, and if you can fill out this emergency contact form as well?” She hands you a clipboard. “It also asks for your vehicle information.”

“Okay, no problem.”

Just as you finish completing the form, she hands you back your ID. She then tells you which room Eva Bey is in and you make your way down the hallway.

The artwork displayed on the bulletin boards and the colorful decorations on each classroom door brightens up the hallway. Drawings, paintings, and even cut out projects fill each board. You finally make your way up to Eva Bey’s classroom, spotting a drawing of hers on the bulletin board. Smiling, you knock on the door before stepping inside, and see all of the children at their different stations.

A young woman walks up to you, a friendly smile on her face. “Hi, you’re here to pick up Eva Bey, right? I just got the call from the front desk.”

“Yeah, I am,” you shake her hand, giving her your name.

“It’s good to meet you. I’m Miss Connix. Eva Bey is just finishing up with her sensory station so after she washes her hands she’ll be ready to go.”

“No problem, can I grab her bag?”

“Sure, her cubby is over there,” she points and you nod in thanks as you go grab the small, pink backpack.

You hear your name being called in a small voice, and turn to see Eva Bey hurrying to you. Smiling, you kneel down.

“Hey, Eva Bey! Are you ready to go home?”

“Yeah! Will my daddy be there?”

“No, he’ll be at work, remember? It’ll be just us today.”

“Okay!” She turns to her teacher. “Bye, Miss Connix!”

“Bye, Eva Bey! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She grabs your hand as you stand up, making your way to sign her out before you lead her out of the classroom. She skips along next to you as you lead her to your car, her dark pigtails bouncing at the top of her head.

After getting her seated in her booster seat and buckled up, you quickly move to the front seat and look back at her.

“I brought some snacks if you’d like,” you smile. “We have granola bars and some Goldfish.”

“Can I have some Goldfish, please?”

“Sure.”

Handing her a bag, she happily takes it before swinging her feet over the edge of the seat. Flipping on your Disney playlist, you begin the ride to Poe’s house.

++++++

The trip back home wasn’t too bad, you were lucky enough to get past most of the traffic. A lot of the drive was spent singing songs from some of Eva Bey’s favorite movies, and hearing about her day at school. She mentioned how they were working on writing their letters, and also showed you a finger painting project she did for the letter ‘e’, which she was very excited to show you.

After arriving at Poe's house, you both quickly settled down so she could relax for a bit. Then, it was on to practicing tracing her letters from one of the few books Poe had left for Eva Bey to work on to practice each day. You sat and helped her for the first portion of the page for the letter ‘a’ before she was able to independently do the motions herself. While she worked on that, you quickly worked on getting a few things done for the house.

After putting away the dishes that were left in the dishwasher last night, you went on to go ahead and wash the few that were in the sink. There was a basket of Eva Bey’s dirty laundry that sat in the hallway, so you took care to get that started in the laundry. After getting that taken care of, Eva Bey ran straight up to you to show you the letters she did by herself.

“Wow! Look at that! That’s so good, Eva Bey,” you smile.

“Can we play, now?”

“Sure, we can play a bit before I start cooking dinner.”

She smiles and takes your hand, pulling you to her bedroom. As you sit on the rug in the floor of her room next to the small table, she goes and grabs a crate filled with various Barbies and other dolls, and then another filled with small dress up clothing accessories like beaded necklaces and hats.

“What are we going to be playing?”

“Tea party!” She comes up, placing a necklace around your neck.

“You know what? I was definitely ready to drink some tea, too,” you laugh softly. Her smile brightens and she quickly starts setting up the table. “Are there going to be treats, too?”

“Well, there’s biscuits! And cookies.”

“Maybe one of these days we can bake some cookies, what do you think?”

“Can they be Snickerdoodles? Those are my favorite.”

“Sure!”

You scoot closer to the table as Eva Bey sits down, pretending to pour tea into your little plastic teacup. Propping your pinky up, you feign taking a sip as Eva Bey giggles. The game goes on, the both of you acting silly and acting out a tea party when you notice how quiet Eva Bey suddenly gets. She stares down at her lap, and when she lets out a whisper of your name that’s when you realize something might be wrong.

“Yeah, Eva Bey?”

“...Did you ever play tea party with your mommy?”

The question kind of catches you off guard, but at the same time… You always wondered why Eva Bey’s mom wasn’t present, but knew it wasn’t your place to ask about it. From the way Eva Bey looks up at you with her soft, brown eyes, you figure it’s probably a sensitive subject.

“Well, I don’t really remember playing tea party with my mom,” you start off. “But I do remember playing other games.”

She only nods, and looks back down at her lap. You figure that’s all she is going to ask until she sighs softly.

“I don’t have a mommy,” she says simply, with a mere hint of sadness laced. “I ask my daddy about it but he says he will tell me when I’m older.”

“Oh… well,” you scoot closer to her. “You know, Eva Bey, there are a lot of people who don’t have mommy’s.”

“They don’t?”

“No, and that is okay. I know it can make us feel upset, too.” You say softly. Eva Bey mutters something and you lean down towards her to hear her. “Hm?”

“Sometimes the kids at school talk about their mommy’s, and it makes me feel a little sad.”

“Well… that’s okay to be sad, sometimes. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you have a daddy and grandpa who love you very much. And you know that you can always talk to them about it, and they will always be there to give you hugs and kisses when you feel sad.”

You hope that this was enough for Eva Bey to hear— you were not expecting this to be one of the first serious conversations with the four year old. But when she looks up at you, the corners of her mouth lift up slightly.

“Yeah… they do love me a lot.”

Relieved, you let out a slight laugh. “I know they do. Very much. Do you feel a little better?”

Eva Bey smiles fully, a bright sight, and nods. “Yeah.”

You smile, and check the time on your watch. “Oh, we should start cleaning up so that we can cook dinner. How does mac and cheese with some broccoli sound?”

“Okay!” She quickly jumps up, rushing to put all her toys away. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight, and help her out before heading to the kitchen.

++++++

Poe stretches as he gets out of his car, inhaling the crisp, cool night air. Everything is quiet now, despite the few cars driving along the road, and he checks the time. Eva Bey should have been in bed two hours ago, and he hoped that was the case.

Poe wonders for a moment how your first day together went: if there were any issues or if you guys had a great time. You didn’t have to contact him, except to tell him that you both made it home safely, so that should have been a good sign. And he knew that Eva Bey was talking nonstop about seeing you again after the first meeting.

Poe was glad, though. He wanted her to get along with you. Eva Bey was usually pretty shy, but yet you were able to get her to open up to you after minutes of being with her. She asked Poe plenty of questions like if he knew your favorite color or anything else, which Poe of course could not answer. Poe realized he didn’t know too much about you, and the little he did know was only what he learned from the interview and… the night before.

The sounds you made as he pinned you to the bed and rocked his hips into yours were etched in the back of his mind. The way you gasped and threw your head back in pleasure as you dug your nails into his back while he rubbed his fingers against your sensitive nub is pictured clearly. He hadn’t been with anyone who made him feel that good in so long and…

He should not be thinking about that right now.

Poe shakes his head, and wipes his hand down his face. He needed to stop. Whatever happened wouldn’t happen again, and he definitely would not cross any lines that were made between you both.

He unlocks the front door and steps inside, hearing nothing except the slight sounds of your humming. He sets his bag down, and walks to the kitchen to see you sitting at the counter with a laptop and binder out.

“Hey.”

You quickly look up, smiling. “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. Eva Bey fell right to sleep at eight.”

“Did she? That’s good,” he nods as he heads to the fridge.

“Oh, I… actually made you some dinner— well… I happened to make more dinner for myself then I meant to, so… I made you a plate.”

Poe watches you walk over to the microwave, pulling out a plate of food. Turning, you place it in his hands.

“I figured you would want something different then Mac and cheese and broccoli,” you chuckle. “But I wasn’t sure if you ate on the way home or not, so—“

“I didn’t. Thank you, I’m starving actually and this looks way healthier then a drive-thru burger.”

Poe puts the plate back in the microwave and warms it up, while you stand awkwardly in place wringing your hands together. You desperately want to bring up the conversation you had with Eva Bey, but that would mean possibly having to bring up a new conversation that seemed to be sensitive with Poe.

But when he glances down at you, and sees the look on your face, you figure it’s too late to turn back.

“Um… can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“...What happened to Eva Bey’s mother?”

Poe sighs, rubbing his brow as the microwave beeps and he pulls the plate out. He grips the edge of the counter, looking down in silence, and you wonder if you just crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… she asked me a question about my mother and then she told me how she doesn’t have one—”

“No, it’s fine,” Poe waves you off. “It’s just… I’ve been trying to come up with a way to talk to her about it. But every time I think I found a way, I look into her eyes and just…”

Poe trails off, and you silently rebuke yourself for not keeping this to yourself.

“Poe, if you don’t want to talk about it—“

“No, no, it’s okay. I… I need to talk about this.”

Slightly relieved, you nod as Poe pushes away from the counter and faces you.

“When I was a sophomore in college, I met this girl. She was pretty nice, and of course I was just a dumb college kid. So, we made up this… arrangement. We were usually careful, but one thing led to another and, well, she ended up pregnant.”

Poe scoffs, shaking his head. You waited patiently for Poe to continue, leaning against the counter.

“Of course, I was willing to start a relationship. I told her I wasn’t going to walk out on her, and I didn’t want the kid to live without both parents. I took her out on dates, planned everything for the baby with her. I thought… I thought things were going well. That she felt the same way I did for her, and god, I even think at one point I was in love with her.

“Well, I must’ve been blinded or something. Because after she gave birth to Eva Bey, and she was cleared from the hospital, she left with no word. There was no way for me to reach her— her parents lived out of the state and I didn’t have any way to contact them. She just… disappeared, and left me alone to care for our child.”

“Oh, Poe… I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well… as Eva Bey got older, I tried coming up with a way to tell her about her mother. She’s only ever asked a handful of times, and of course she is so patient. She just looks at me and nods when I tell her ‘we’ll talk about it when you’re a little older’. But I just… I haven’t told her because…”

Poe swallows thickly, and you swear that if the crack in his voice doesn’t make your heart ache, the next thing he says will.

“...What kid wants to hear that their mom didn’t want to be their mom? That they didn’t want to read them bedtime stories and watch their dance recitals and miss their tee-ball games? Or kiss them goodnight and sing them to sleep?”

And of course, you feel for Poe after he says this. How do you even come up with a way to explain all that to a child? How can you tell them without making it feel like they did something wrong when in fact they did absolutely nothing?

And just how can someone look at a child— especially one as bright and sweet as Eva Bey— and decide they don’t want to be in their life?

All of these questions roll through your mind and you just miss the slight sniffle coming from Poe. Glancing at him, you watch as he wipes away a single tear.

“I just… I love that kid so damn much. I want to give her the world because she deserves it. Because she is one of the sweetest, and kindest kids. And she doesn’t even have the luxury of having both parents in her life. Just me—“

“Hey, don’t do that,” you shake your head. “Don’t even think of putting yourself down like that. Eva Bey is so lucky to have you as her father. That little girl loves you so much, I can see it all around here: from all the photographs and drawings of you both to the way her eyes light up when she talks about you.”

Poe lifts his gaze at the time you stare directly into his dark eyes, making your point quite clear.

“And she knows how much you love her. So do not ever doubt that you give her enough when the truth is you give her so much and more. She is so lucky to have you, and you are the only parent she needs, Poe. If her mother doesn’t want to be in that sweet little girl's life, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing out on. Because even I saw just how special Eva Bey is from the moment I met her.”

Something flashes in Poe’s eyes— something that you have to tell yourself isn’t really there because if it was, then that would be bad. But you continue to stay silent, staring into his eyes as the ticking from the clock in the living room makes its way to break the silence between you and Poe. And just as he stares down at you, it’s almost as if… as if he—

Poe clears his throat, taking a step back. “...Thank you, for saying that. About Eva Bey.”

You almost don’t hear what he says, but you quickly nod in response. “Well, it’s true. She’s a wonderful girl, and I’m lucky to get to be here and get to know her more.”

“...She’s lucky to get to have you here, too. And… so am I.”

A small, sincere smile forms upon your face, and Poe returns it all the same. Before you can say anything further, you happen to catch the time on the stove clock.

“Oh… it’s getting late. I should… go.”

“...Right. Right, you should.”

Poe watches as you gather your laptop and binder, and stuff them into your bag. As you throw the strap over your shoulder, Poe nods and follows you to the door silently. He opens it, and the slight breeze from outside hits your bare arms and causes you to shiver right away. Poe pretends not to notice as he walks you to your car, and you glance up at him.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Thanks for dinner, by the way. And for… the talk.”

“Of course.”

Poe looks as if he has something else to say, but hesitates, and instead bids you good night before you get into your car. You watch through your window as Poe makes it back into his house, closing the door, and you let out a sigh— the emotional exhaustion finally catching up to you. Running your hands down your face, you finally start the car and proceed on your way back home.

What a first day, you think to yourself as you turn off onto the main road. You were not at all prepared for any of that — for the few questions from Eva Bey to the long, heart-rending conversation with Poe. Eva Bey seemed to be fine after you were able to get her to eat her dinner and play a bit more before putting her to sleep. But Poe…

You think back to the way he looked at you— there was definitely something hidden beneath those brown eyes of his, but you didn’t know what that was. It was for the best, you figure. But still, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced against your chest as you think back to it.

Tonight definitely changed things between the three of you.

++++++

Tag list: @bellamys @liziihorta @woakiees @lizajane3 @danicalifxrnia @mrsdaamneron @spectre-leader @mystical-934 @atonemnt @shakespeareanwannabe @cyarikaaa @fandomtravels @someplace-darker @darksideofclarke @kittyofalltrades @galaxy-of-stories @thesoftdumbass @yougottakeeponkeepinon @obipoelover @none-of-your-bullshit @newyorksins @kittycatty072 @cheekygeek05 @mserynlarsen @loveboat

[unholyplumpprincess]

Hello! We talk so im on anon and i kinda wanna see what you think. Matchup please? Im 5'2, genderfluid, bisexual and an overall weirdo. Im really submissive and i love BDSM, specifically cnc and shibari. I also have a love for cute things like kittens and plushies, but I will not hesitate to throw down at any given time. Violence is just fun. I tend to prefer masc folks, but everyone is at risk with me. I also fucking love food. More than someone should...and it shows. Im down for anything since Im curious, but prefer Apex.

Adding your second anon here too!:  I gotchu! Sorry about that. Im super cuddly for the most part, but sometimes I have really bad sensory issues. Im very protective over people I love! Oh! Im also poly! I also have BPD, and that really affects my personality. My love language is like, i bring you things. I love bringing those I love crystals!! I really love when people show me affection by cuddles or communicating. My hobbies are writing, cosplay, videogames and fuckin. I collect a lot of crystals for my altar, but i dont know that i really have religion? Im fairly quiet and don't like a lot of attention on me. Id rather stay home and read or play apex than be out and about. My partners like cooking for me because it always leads to the frickfrack. I guess my style is goth/punk with a dash of redneck since i love going mudding and hunting. Yeah, im weird. Hopefully this is enough!

Now unfortunately, even on anon, I’m 99% sure I know who u are so I shall try not to be biased and pair u up with Caustic but I can do u one better at least!

I maaatch you wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiith!!!

Bloodhound!

Warnings: R18+/NSFT under the cut, Parts left ambiguous bc not specified!, Bloodhound is mentioned with a strap on and my specific headcanons, cnc roleplay implied briefly!

________________________

Let’s all be real now, every nb person is naturally like ‘ooo friend?’ when we hear abt another nb/trans person. So that’s probably what makes Bloodhound curious of you in the first place, just already a leg to stand on in ‘common grounds’ sort of ways. It probably starts out that way too, the friendship. Of course, you’re rather sexual, and that exudes quite clearly- not that Bloodhound minds at all, no, but it does make it harder to Not want to sink their teeth into you.

If you bring Bloodhound some sort of bone or crystal, you can count them as interested right away. Especially if either were something they brought up so briefly as needing for their own worships or personal interests. They like that you listen, they like even more that you decide to gift them things. As their own love language is gift giving, as a means to traditionally court you and see if you are interested in them. Albeit, you’re certainly more Open about courting than they are, and you can practically Feel them blush under their mask when you offer them things.

In public, they won’t draw attention to you- especially with knowledge you don’t like the attention- but in private they are a Very touchy person. Liking to have arms around your or vice versa, they especially are a big fan of spooning and just holding onto someone. Arthur takes a grand liking to you as well.

As far as the bedroom though? Good luck.

~Rest under the cut~

Poor little prey. You want to be tied up? Be made into their little thing to use as they please? Not a problem. They’ll ruin you, leave bites all over you to ensure you know who you belong to. They’re a big fan of increasing the size of their strap on as well, finding your limits and wanting to prod at them further. They’re a huge fan of tying you down in the woods or to a tree for that matter, pulling your hair and forcing your gaze down to see how they press their strap into you and croon, “Is it too big, my love? Surely you can take it.” 

Or you don’t even get a say. A hand over your mouth and a snarl for you to take it. Of course, as a proper dom, they have safe words and safe signals so never fear on them ever taking things too far. They always prefer to have plans before hand, so often times the hour or two before anything sexual occurs they’ll lay out their plans for you just to ensure nothing catches you off guard.

Get ready for their god complex as well. You’ll be made to worship them or be used however they please. You may even end up with a strap on on you and them taunting you about how you can fuck them better than that.

Good luck on trying to match their stamina and sexual appetite.

[gondowan]

Darling, Dearest, Dead

Pairing: Matsukawa Issei/Hanamaki Takahiro

Issei thinks he really should get a straight answer from Takahiro about his three dead husbands, but it’s really hard to think when said person of interest- the one he’s had feelings for since high school- is sucking his soul out through his cock. 

Tags/Warnings: mutual pining. happy ending. post-time skip. confessions. blow jobs. two idiots in love. this is kind of angsty but has a fluffy happy ending i promise lol. I’m all about The Yearning you know?. oc death off-screen.  

Word Count: 4,084

Notes: I set out to write a pwp but ended up with 4k words of feels?

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so if you’re the owner and sole employee of said funeral home, trying to get it to stay afloat. It’s not like Matsukawa can just stack the dead on top of each other, or tetris them to create more space, no. Doing so would be disrespectful. When Matsukawa isn’t busy attending to family members of the recently deceased or embalming, he does all of his paperwork in a tiny, cramped fire hazard of a broom closet, with the television as his sole companion. Matsukawa never minded silence, but well, when you’re surrounded by dead bodies, sometimes you just need a little background noise.

His cigarette is lit between his lips, rapidly turning into ash as he stares blankly at the television, enraptured by the story unfolding in front of him.

POLICE CITE NATURAL CAUSES IN DEATH OF SHIPPING MAGNATE YOSHIOKA HIDEKI.

Yoshioka Hideki, owner of Yoshioka Shipping International, aged 54, husband to Yoshioka Takahiro, nee Hanamaki, Matsukawa’s best friend and the love of his life. As soon as they graduated, Hanamaki had packed his bags for Tokyo, citing an urge to get out there and just try out life in the big city. Matsukawa stayed behind in Miyagi, finished college, and completed his mortician apprenticeship, the first of many milestones in his adult life, alone. Oikawa had gone to Argentina, chasing his dreams of volleyball.  Iwaizumi, although he would never admit it, was doing his best to position himself to cross Oikawa’s path again.

In the cold bitter nights when Matsukawa is behind on work and pulling long hours, he always thought Hanamaki would be there by his side, but he pushes those thoughts away. No amount of regret ever changed the past, no amount of wishing ever changed the future.

If he’s happy, that’s good enough for Matsukawa.

---

The first time Hanamaki told Matsukawa he was engaged was when he was visiting Tokyo to see him, a year after Hanamaki had moved. Matsukawa thought they were going to hang out, just like old times, so when he opens the door of the fancy apartment (how did Takahiro afford all this?) and an older man answers the door, Matsukawa puts two and two together. He attends their elopement as their only witness, feeling the dual bitterness of losing someone and mourning the friendship he thought they shared.

The second time, Hanamaki casually drops the news over the phone as Matsukawa is signing a contract. He falters, and ink splatters over the page. He’ll have to reprint it and start over. This time, Hanamaki elopes in Bali, and although he extends Matsukawa an invitation, Matsukawa knows better than to go.

The third time, Matsukawa finds out via the news.

---

“You either need to tell him or get over it,” Iwaziumi says, stubbing out his cigarette in the tray between them, ever the realist.

“That’s rich coming from you, Hajime.” Matsukawa sneers. He doesn’t mean to be rude to Iwaizumi, the man has been there for him for so long and is really only verbalizing what Matsukawa knows on the inside, but he can’t help it. “Let me know when you tell Oikawa how you feel.”

“I’m about to, actually.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms with a sigh. “I’m headed to Argentina soon. I’m going to tell him.”

Matsukawa is stunned. He figured Iwaizumi would’ve preferred to evaporate on the spot rather than admit his feelings to Oikawa.  “I...I’m happy for you,” he whispers, “I know he feels the same.”

“We’ll see won’t we?” the shorter man says, an undercurrent of nervousness in his voice, a fond look on his face.

The two get married the following year, a beautiful ceremony on the Argentine beach surrounded by family and friends new and old. The ceremony has an added effect of bringing Hanamaki back into Matsukawa’s life, and they rekindle their friendship over a series of extremely alcoholic margaritas and questionable decisions in the hot Argentine nights. Matsukawa will take what he can get, because Hanamaki seems happy with Yoshioka-san, and as long as Makki is happy, Matsukawa can learn to be too. That acknowledgement doesn’t do anything to fill the hole in his soul, but it does soften the pain just a little. Hanamaki never talks about his husband or anything related to his romantic life past or present, and Matsukawa doesn’t ask. Ignorance is bliss.

---

Matsukawa’s cell rings, disturbing his reverie. He doesn’t even look at the screen before answering.

“Yoshioka-san.” he murmurs, as if it doesn’t hurt each time he has to call the love of his life by another man’s name.

“It’s back to Hanamaki now, Issei”, the voice on the other end of the line is cheerful, playful even for someone who just became a widower for the third time.

“I…” Matsukawa falters and the condolences he had prepared dies on his lips. Hanamaki always had (and continues to have) the stunning ability to catch Matsukawa off-guard. When they would play three-on-three practice games at Seijoh, Hanamaki always gave Matsukawa the most trouble. And just like that, Matsukawa slips back into his old ways, Hanamaki’s name rolling off his tongue like it belongs there, if only he would let him. “Takahiro...how are you doing?”.

---

It’s quite difficult to surprise a mortician in regards to anything having to do with death and dying, but from over a thousand miles away, Hanamaki manages to do just that.

“Let me get this straight, you want to ship the body to Miyagi, again?” Matsukawa sputters. He’s on his third cigarette of the phone call, and there’s too much information for him to process—the death of his best friend’s third spouse, the feelings he’s never addressed, the hurt that’s simmered in the back of his mind that Hanamaki left Miyagi, it’s a lot. I should’ve gone to therapy, the wayward thought has floated in Matsukawa’s mind, but he’s still not ready to face the music.

“Makki, people are going to think that you’re offing these people to help support your best friend’s funeral home.” he jokes.

The question from the last two times lingering on his lips, “You didn’t...have anything to do with their deaths did you?”

The pause before Hanamaki answers stretches a little too long for Matsukawa to be comfortable with.

“Isn’t that what friends are for?” Hanamaki finally says, completely sidestepping the question, the teasing tone in his voice still very at odds with the current circumstances, “Anyways, I’ve arranged for the body to be flown overnight to Miyagi, you just need to pick it up at the regional airport. We can talk about additional arrangements and such after you pick it up.”

“Makki I don’t—”

“Please, Issei?” he pleads, and Matsukawa gives, like he always does.

---

It’s raining softly as Matsukawa parks his car at the airport, the clammy yellow lighting reflecting off the new wax job he had just gotten. While he would’ve liked to drive a flashier car around, a van is just easier for all the transport he has to do, and the hearse is really only used for special occasions (and draws too many eyes). It’s not as if he’s driving dates around anyway or has anyone to impress, so discreet soccer mom van it is.

He checks the time and walks into the lobby. It’s usually a straightforward task, picking up a corpse from an airport. Matsukawa just needs to show the proper ID and his mortician’s license, check that the body is properly labeled and identified (wouldn’t want to take the wrong body back), and load it onto a gurney. If he’s lucky the body has been refrigerated, if not, well, hopefully the recently deceased Yoshioka-san is in an airtight container.

The woman at the Peach Airlines counter looks way too peppy for the hour of day. She confirms his ID and walks into the office to retrieve the container. Matsukawa excuses himself to use the bathroom, and when he walks out, the body has been brought out.

What Matsukawa doesn’t expect however, is the man waiting beside the casket. His breath catches as he allows himself to savor the view in front of him. Hanamaki is dressed simply in a black coat and patterned slacks, looking more formal than Matsukawa has ever seen, strawberry brown hair cut neatly in a way that frames his face perfectly. There are some lines in the corner of his eyes that weren’t there before. Hanamaki is a vision in the dim light of the airport, even as he shifts awkwardly next to his deceased husband’s casket.

It’s 10 PM Japan Standard Time on a cold rainy autumn night, and Matsukawa is still in love.

Thankfully, he manages to compose himself before Hanamaki spots him, and his face breaks out in the most beautiful smile that Matsukawa has ever seen. Before Matsukawa can say anything, Hanamaki folds him into a hug. There’s a strange desperation there that Issei has never seen in Takahiro before, he can feel the tension radiating off the other man’s body, in the way that his hands clench at Matsukawa’s coat. Grief? Relief? Matsukawa isn’t sure.

After a long minute, Hanamaki finally releases him, his hand lingering on Matsukawa’s waist for just a tad longer than appropriate. “I missed you,” Matsukawa says simply, unsure of how else to vocalize the well of emotions he’s gone through the past few years, everything he’s wanted to say but could never find the right time to. I’ve missed you so much it hurts. I’m so in love with you. I think about you all the time. I’m hurt we aren’t as close as we used to be.

Hanamaki looks at him with an expression that Matsukawa can’t quite place, “I’ve missed you too Issei.” There’s a lingering there, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Shall we?” he pipes up, the happy-go-lucky mask sliding back over his face. “Can’t just leave a body out in the open like this.”

Matsukawa nods.

---

“Issei...you drive a minivan?” Hanamaki says, as if that is the strangest thing out of this whole situation.

“Had I known you were coming with, I would’ve brought out my Maserati,” he jokes as he opens the door for Hanamaki, the body safely secured in the back.

Hanamaki rolls his eyes as he settles in, “I’ll bet you get all the chicks in this hot rod.”

There’s only one person I want to bring home in this car.

“Oh, so many. Chicks love it when you tell them you haul dead bodies in the back. It does wonders to the libido,”.

Hanamaki laughs, a genuine one that brings a smile to Matsukawa’s face, “I’ll bet.” He puts on a high falsetto, “Matsukawa-san, take me now, right here on the floor of this van where you’ve just hauled Uncle to his final resting place. I must have you, you stupid sexy mortician of a man”.

Matsukawa starts the car, “So you think I’m sexy Makki? Is that it?”.

“Never said you weren’t.”

They drive back in silence as Matsukawa turns that statement over and over in his mind. Hanamaki, true to his form, falls asleep as if this is just another late night. He’s still fast asleep when Matsukawa pulls up to the driveway of the funeral home, the streetlights casting a soft glow on his face. In sleep he looks younger, and Matsukawa is reminded of late nights when they would study together. Hanamaki always fell asleep first, as if he were chasing after something in his dreams.

---

He’s still asleep as Matsukawa unlocks the door and pushes the body into the refrigerated section of the home. Matsukawa is lost in his thoughts at the absurdity of the situation, Takahiro, his best friend, a three-time widower, is asleep in his car while Issei tucks his dead husband into the fridge. What the fuck.

His reverie doesn’t last long however.

“Boo”.

Matsukawa jumps as Hanamaki suddenly grabs his waist.

“Jesus Makki I—“

“Gotcha~” he says in a singsong voice. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been here,” he remarks as he looks around, taking it all in.

“Which is odd, considering you’re now a three-time client.”

Hanamaki shrugs, “I require the best of the best.”

“I’m sure there are better and more established funeral homes in Tokyo than my little place,” Matsukawa scoffs. He really needs a cigarette. Or a break. Maybe both. This is all too much to handle.

Hanamaki runs his hands along the desk, “Maybe. But you built this place from the ground up. All by yourself,”.

Matsukawa knows better than to say what’s on his mind, but he can’t help it. It’s been stewing for so fucking long that he needs to get it out. He may as well get closure now, here, as they stand in front of Hanamaki’s dead husband. “I wanted you by my side you know.”

The other man chuckles, clearly misinterpreting the weight of what he just said, “Right, we’d be like Gomez and Morticia Addams, two partners running a funeral home.”

“If you mean being married and running a small business side-by-side, yeah.” It’s a crude confession, not at all what Issei thought it would be like. Matsukawa thought he��d always have some flowery thing to say to Hanamaki when he finally did confess. Something sweet like the profiteroles that Hanamaki loves so much. He didn’t want to confess in the sterile white lighting of the storage room of his funeral home, to his grieving best friend. Hanamaki deserves better than that, he thinks, but it is what it is.

It all spills out of Matsukawa like a torrent. “I’ve been in love with you since before our last Spring High. Every fucking day I’ve wanted nothing but to hold your hand and kiss you. I thought…I thought after we graduated that we would live a boring normal life together while Iwaizumi and Oikawa run around the world,” he scoffs, trying desperately to chase away the wellspring of tears in his eyes. When did he become so emotional? Years of pining will do that to a man, he supposes.

Hanamaki gapes at him like he wants to say something, but Matsukawa doesn’t relent, words just keep spilling out of him. “It’d be boring by their standards but it would be our kind of boring you know? The dumb kind where we go out for ice cream at 2AM, or fall asleep on the couch,”. He runs a hand through his hair, grasping desperately.

“It hurt so much when you moved away…when you got married and I didn’t even know you were dating someone. After…after the first time I tried to date, tried to get over you, but no one can hold any candle to you in my life.” Matsukawa’s breathing is jagged, jagged like his heart. It feels like he’s trying to talk while running.

“I just…I love you so much Takahiro. I’m in love with the crow’s feet on your eyes that weren’t there before, the way your hair frames your face, your stupid humor, your laugh, how you always try to do-it-all and I just…I..”

“Every time I see you, you bring me to my knees,” he whispers.

Hanamaki doesn’t say a word, not that Matsukawa leaves any room for him to speak. He just closes his eyes. By the end, Matsukawa’s head is spinning and he’s pretty sure he just fucked it all up, but somehow, he’s also relieved. Relieved that he finally got it off his chest. Iwaizumi was right. The whole time, he’d been carrying this burden for so long he doesn’t know what it’s like to not have it, like a lovesick Atlas who doesn’t realize that he could just shrug off the burden and stand up straight again.

“Say something.” Please.

Hanamaki says nothing, just walks up to Matsukawa in bold, self-assured steps. He reaches for his face and Matsukawa flinches, actually flinches, at the touch.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Before Matsukawa can say anything Hanamaki reaches his hand to the back of Matsukawa’s neck, pulls at his tie, and kisses him. Issei is pretty sure he’s hallucinating but fuck Hanamaki smells so good, looks so good up close. He takes Hanamaki’s face in his hands, deepening the kiss, nothing on his mind except a litany of yes yes yes.

As they kiss, Hanamaki pushes Matsukawa towards the desk. Matsukawa doesn’t mind, all that he can think about is how badly he’s wanted this, how long he’s waited, how fucking happy he feels. He’s so dizzy with want that he doesn’t even remember where he is, all that exists currently is the feel of Hanamaki’s lips on his and his hands around Hanamaki’s waist.

Hanamaki breaks off the kiss, thumb running over Matsukawa’s cheek before he goes for his neck, pulling open his tie, fumbling at the button on his collar. When he can’t get it open fast enough, his hand wanders further down.

“Makki—wait I—”.

“Shut up.” He says as he drops to his knees, “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this.”

Wanted this? Wanted Matsukawa? Issei thinks he might need hearing aids or something, but that thought is wiped out as Hanamaki takes his cock out of his boxers and licks a long, wet stripe along the underside. The groan that escapes him is embarrassing and he grips the edge of the desk for dear life.

“Look at me Issei.” Hanamaki murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip.

Matsukawa swallows, fluttering his eyes open as he looks down right as Hanamaki takes all of him into his mouth. Had he been a lesser man, he would’ve cum right then and there like a schoolboy. Instead, Matsukawa wills the last of his lucidity into being.

“F-fuck, Makki no—”

Hanamaki looks up at Matsukawa from his knees, a look of shock on his face and an undercurrent of dejection in his plea “You don’t want…?” You don’t want me? Is the unspoken thought.

Matsukawa grits his teeth as he wills himself to pull back, “I do Takahiro, you have no fucking idea how much I want you but no, not here. We need to do this right.”

It’s then that Hanamaki seems to snap out of his daze and remembers where they are. “Oh...oh right, fuck. Uh...let’s go home?”

Matsukawa sighs in relief as Hanamaki gets up. “Yeah..home.”

---

When they get back to Matsukawa’s apartment, he brings out two beers from the fridge, and sets them down on the coffee table.

“Hiro...before we do anything, we should...talk”.

Hanamaki sighs, taking a deep swig, “I know...I owe you that much.”

He fiddles with the label on beer. “The first two times, I needed money, and one of the part-timers suggested this website. I made it clear from the start that it was purely transactional, but I was so afraid of losing everything and coming back to Miyagi with nothing to show for it.”

He looks right at Matsukawa. “I know…I could’ve asked my parents or you or anyone for help but...when you’re in the thick of it you just can’t think straight you know?”

Hanamaki sighs wearily, “The last time, Hideki-kun...was terminally ill and estranged from his family. He didn’t want it to go to them. We got close when I was temping at his office. I..I told him to leave it all to charity, but I guess he felt some sort of strange compulsion to help me. He paid for job training, a therapist, and was just so kind for no reason. All he asked for in return was that I play a role in public.”

“So, you were…arm candy?”

“I wouldn’t even call it that. We had different residences, it was all very compartmentalized. I wish I asked him before but, I think he was just lonely.” Hanamaki scoffs, “At least I did one thing right in my adult life, comfort someone who needed it.”

Matsukawa reaches over, pulling the other man to his chest, running a hand through his hair. Hanamaki fits perfectly on top of Issei’s chest. He lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Issei.”

Matsukawa presses a kiss to the top of Hanamaki’s head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs, “Will you stay this time?”

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

“There’s nothing else I want more,” Matsukawa murmurs, before taking Hanamaki’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to his palm.

A muffled voice pipes up, “You..you forgive me?”

“Of course,” Matsukawa says, another kiss to his hand. It’s the easiest thing Matsukawa has ever done. They’ll have to talk more earnestly later and clear years of unspoken pain, but Matsukawa knows that this time, it’ll be alright.

“Just like that?”

Matsukawa angles his head to the side, looking down right into Hanamaki’s eyes as he runs a finger across his eyebrow, “Makki…why do you always think you have to suffer?”.

Hanamaki’s upper lip is quivering. “You sound like my therapist,” he says, voice cracking a little. Matsukawa smiles, and sits up, arms returning to Hanamaki’s waist.

“My clients usually don’t talk back,” he says, planting a soft, tentative kiss to Hanamaki’s cheek.

“Was that an attempt at a funeral joke because if so, you are severely out of practice Issei.” The other man snarks, trying and failing to hide the smile in the corner of his lips as Matsukawa presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re in for it now. There’s plenty more where that came from,” He murmurs before finally meeting Hanamaki’s lips. “No escape from the horrible puns.”  

“What a tragedy,” Hanamaki says, mouth opening to meet Matsukawa’s. He runs his hands down Hanamaki’s side like he’s always envisioned himself doing. A jolt of electricity runs through him and he feels emboldened by both their confessions and Hanamaki finally being in his arms. Matsukawa pushes Hanamaki so that his back is on the cushions, lips on the edge of his neck, hands intertwining with Hanamaki’s. Matsukawa works his way down slowly, kissing every inch of Hanamaki that he can get access to—the other man’s Adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat, his collarbones, trying to immortalize him in his mind. Below him, Hanamaki shivers to his touch, hips rising up to meet Matsukawa’s.  

Matsukawa swallows, fingertips grasping right at the edge of Hanamaki’s slacks. “May I?” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that if he’s any louder, Hanamaki will disappear again.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you.” Hanamaki says, “I—”. Emboldened, Matsukawa quickly undoes his belt and pulls his slacks down. There’s less composure in Matsukawa’s movements then he would like, but fuck it, Hanamaki is front of him in the flesh, and willing. He palms Hanamaki’s cock through his boxers, relishing in the hiss of breath that escapes Hanamaki’s gritted teeth as Matsukawa kisses the v-line of his hips. There’s no particular rhyme or reason to Matsukawa’s movements, and they’re a bit sloppy, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how good Hanamaki tastes and how good it feels when Hanamaki’s hand grips his hair.

He looks up at Hanamaki from between his thighs, wiping his mouth with his thumb. Hanamaki’s face is a pretty pink, lower lip swollen from how hard he’d been biting it. For a second, Matsukawa thinks about all that he’s ever wanted to do, will do, to Hanamaki, and shivers before returning his attentions to Hanamaki’s cock.

Hanamaki is beautiful as he comes undone in Matsukawa’s mouth, his fingers intertwined with Matsukawa’s other hand, back arching off the sofa cushions. They hold each other on the couch, giggling like school children- a heady mix of happiness, joy, and relief having found each other again.

---

The television is on in Matsukawa Issei’s tiny office at Peaceful Hills Funeral Home. Space is always a premium at a mortician’s, more so now that he’s no longer the sole employee of said funeral home. Instead, when he looks up and past the door, he can see his husband Hanamaki on the phone as well, jotting down notes from another client.

Matsukawa’s cigarette is lit, rapidly turning into ash as he just takes in the view in front of him, watching the light catch on the wedding band that Takahiro wears.

Darling, dearest, his.

---

I originally set out to write a PWP where they bang in the funeral home but...this...happened. I fell out of HQ for a long time (dipped out after Seijoh lost), but recently finished the manga and got slapped in the face with Mattsun working at a funeral home post-timeskip like ?? sir?? are you aware how hot you are??? and then I felt an inexplicable need to break his heart for a bit. Just a little. Also big thanks to @/plumtreeforest as always <3 ​

Comments/reblogs/etc always appreciated <3 can’t believe I finally got around to writing fic of my faves in the year 2021. I missed them. 

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch15

Yup, this beast is still going and still growing.  Life sapped my energy so it has been a lot longer between updates than I would have liked but I’ve been experimenting with writing out of sequence to make use of whatever creativity I can grasp.  The plus side of this is that ch16 is in the editing stages and ch17 is also half written.  But anyway....it’s taken a while but here is ch15 in the saga that has become affectionately termed ‘Bad Jeff’.

@willow-salix has been wonderful at helping be fix the plot holes and pick out the parts where I contradicted myself.  I now have a proper timeline though (funky multicoloured spreadsheet and everything) so I shouldn’t tie myself in knots so much with the boys ages and milestones.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Fifteen

The incoming call notification had Virgil scrambling for his phone, fumbling with the handset while trying to swipe a call accept icon that suddenly seemed too small and fiddly to be practical.  It took him three hasty attempts before managing to complete the action correctly, allowing him to finally speak to the brother who had been frustratingly out of contact.  Scott had been in LA for three days and Virgil was now desperate for news but he had promised he wouldn’t interfere lest he call at the wrong moment and inflame matters further.  It had been a nail-biting wait, forcing himself to be patient and trust Scott to call when he could.

“Scott, how is it?”  It took him a moment to register that the face on the screen wasn’t Scott’s despite what the caller ID proclaimed.  “Gordon?”  He was surprised to see a younger brother rather than an older one.

“Don’t sound so pleased to see me.”  There was an air of the old teasing Gordon making a slow return.

“Sorry.   Of course I’m pleased to see you,” and he genuinely was, the face that looked back at him was still too thin and pale for comfort but the hair was clean again and the eyes had lost their haunted glaze, “I just wasn’t expecting it.  Where’s Scott?”

“He’s here too.”  The scene on Virgil’s screen shifted quickly as the handset at the other end was spun round to reveal its rightful owner who gave a little wave.  “He said he was going to call you so I asked if I could go first.”

“Well, how are you?”

“I’m....okay.”  Virgil had made him promise in the past not to lie about how he was feeling, it was one of the reasons he had been pulling away; it didn’t count as lying if you just omitted the truth.  “It’s been a strange few days.”

“I’ll bet.”

“For a start I’ve found out that flyboy over there gets ever so twitchy if anyone else is at the controls of a plane.  You’d best hope you never have to take him as a passenger in that bumble bee of yours if it ever gets off the drawing board.  Or was it more like a turtle, that beast was green wasn’t it?”  The look of fear that crossed Virgil’s face would have been comical if it wasn’t so genuine and Gordon was given the sudden reminder that, as far as Virgil was concerned, he wasn’t meant to know about their father’s vision.  He was quick with his reassurances.  “It’s okay, Dad told me about his rescue plans”

“He still won’t tell Alan though” Scott called out from across the room, “Dad has taken him out to fetch ice cream so we can talk freely for a few minutes.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah,  I think he’s just trying to cover some of his own guilt.  He’s still no Dad of the year though.”  Scott's tone was derisive and Virgil could tell that tensions must still be running high.  “He’s going to have to tell him sooner or later, he can’t just spring it on the kid that he is being dragged out of school and shunted across the world when the island move happens.”

“What, you mean like he gave us time to prepare for the move to LA?”  Gordon snorted.  “I don’t know about you guys but me and Alan didn’t exactly get much warning when we left Kansas.”

This surprised the older two who had known all about the plan, the many arguments were etched in their memories.  In this case the problem child had been John.  Scott had been making the transition from university to the Air Force and Virgil had been busy preparing for his studies at Denver but John had been on a path that didn’t align with their father’s business plans.  The fifteen year old, with a coveted place at Harvard nearly in his grasp, had begged to stay so he could finish high school without interruptions; he had worked hard to stay two grades ahead of the curve and an inter-state move could undo it all.  Of course letting John live alone had been out of the question, and Jeff had not been prepared to delay the move, leading to  flares of temper and defiance that none of them had realised the middle child was capable of.  It was only when Grandma stepped in, offering to return from New Mexico to become custodian of the farm and care for John during that final year that their father relented.  With all of the concerns over John and his university dreams it hadn’t occurred to either of them that the youngest two hadn’t been told about the move.  Evidently their father’s policy of ‘need to know’ was long running. 

“Don’t worry Gords, Scott and I will make sure that Alan gets told.  If Dad’s idea happens, and knowing Dad it probably will, Alan won’t just have another move sprung on him.  I promise.”  There was sincere honesty in those deep brown eyes and Gordon gave a subtle nod of thanks.  “So tell me everything that has been happening over the last few days.”

Gordon recounted everything that had happened since Scott’s arrival, prompted by said older brother if he missed anything out.  Virgil winced at the revelations.  Even with the sanitised highlights he could tell that the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster.  In some cases the revelations were beyond his worst fears and he couldn’t help feeling proud of his little brother who had been living through harder circumstances than any of them had imagined.

“Which brings us to today,” Gordon brought the tale up to the present, “Dad’s decided I need to learn to fly seeing as this island he’s chosen isn’t exactly on the commercial air routes.  Alan’s going to start learning too; Dad wasn’t happy about that idea but Scott reminded him that he started learning at Alan’s age.  You should have seen him up there, Alan is an absolute natural.”  Gordon’s voice glowed with pride at the achievements of his little brother.

“You didn’t do badly yourself” Scott cut in from across the room.

“So why were your knuckles white the whole time?”

“Hey, as you said, I just like being the one in control.  It was no different when Dad was piloting and he’s clocked up more flight hours than the rest of us put together.”

“I can just imagine it” Virgil snorted, “you should’ve seen him supervising John when he was learning to drive.”

Gordon glanced across at Scott who had visibly paled at the memory, before turning his attention back to Virgil. “So yeah, I’ve now got to fit in pilot training and exams around getting back up to strength for WASP selection.”

“And WASP is definitely what you want?  You aren’t just going along with it so you can get away from Dad?  I know you’ll be able to do it, but please don’t enlist unless you’re really sure.”

Gordon wasn’t sure if that was the concerned older brother or the family pacifist speaking; WASP was still military after all and Virgil had made no secrets of his thoughts in that direction.  But equally Virgil knew how stubborn he was and how he would never back down from a challenge and had managed to resolve his difference with Scott over the Air Force so he chalked the questions up to brotherly concern.

“Yeah, I’m sure.  It’s a good life Virg, something I can really make a career out of and the opportunities for officers…”

“Officer?” This definitely surprised the distant sibling.  The widened eyes elicited a slight blush from Gordon.

“Um, yeah, that was Scott’s idea.”  He was still having a little trouble reconciling himself to the notion that he was cut out to lead.  

“Not just my idea” said brother called out from his perch on the bed, “the Marineville lot wanted to transfer you to officer training too.  This time round you’ll just be applying for the officer steam from the beginning.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,”  Gordon shot Scott a glare of mock indignation, earning a chuckle from Virgil “it’s a good life.  And yes, this time I’ll be trying out as an officer.  I’ll have to redo the aptitude tests, different benchmarks and all that, but we’ve been looking into it and my scores were already at the right level.  There’s just one additional aptitude test for officers that I never took before.  I’ve tried an online practice test and did ok so I should be alright.  I’m booked in to take it for real in a fortnight.  After that it’s selection at Marineville again and then hopefully I’m in.  It’ll take a few months but by the summer I should have my first posting.  The officer intakes don’t happen as frequently as junior ranks so I’ve got time to train.”

“You seem to have it all mapped out and not a college course in sight.”

“Nope.  Thanks, both of you.  It’s...it’s been a hard few months and I couldn’t see a way out of it all.”

There was a noticeable slump in Gordon’s posture and the light went out of his eyes as the memories of his recent trials flooded back in.  It broke Virgil’s heart to see how on a knife edge his brother still was and he knew he and Scott would need to keep a close eye on their younger sibling for a long while yet.  At least Gordon had a goal to work towards again; they both knew his steely determination and drive to succeed. Once he had set his sights on a challenge nothing would stop him, the Olympics had proved that.

“Any time.  And don’t be a stranger.  If Dad starts getting on your case again or you just need to talk to someone you know where I am.  I’ve been told my couch is pretty comfy too if this new schedule of training and flying lessons allows you any time off.”

“Admit it, you just want me back for my cooking” Gordon smirked.

“Maybe…” Virgil gave his best puppy dog eyes, eliciting a chuckle from both his brothers.

Any further chatter was interrupted by the sound of the apartment door crashing open, announcing the return of Jeff and Alan from the grocery store, followed by Alan’s shouts that if they didn’t get out there quick there would be no chocolate chip left for them.  Both knew better than to treat this as an idle threat so with a hurried goodbye to Virgil they departed to claim their portions.

 xoxoxox

Life soon settled into a new routine.  Jeff still rarely made it back for dinner, they couldn’t expect miracles over night, but he was getting better at being home before Alan went to bed at least.  Gordon suspected that had something to do with the ‘discussion’ Scott had with Jeff the night before he returned to his Air Force base.  The voices that drifted through the firmly shut study door had shown a flare of temper from both sides and Gordon had been grateful Alan was already in bed and so not around to witness the argument.  It was just as well Tracys were good at putting on a front, by the morning of Scott’s departure the tension had been firmly suppressed and Alan had been able to say goodbye to his eldest brother without any hint of bad feeling spoiling the moment. 

Where life before the Olympics had been a mix of school and swimming, so life for Gordon going forwards became a mix of physical training and flight theory with time in the air thrown in at the weekends.   He passed the WASP officer aptitude test easily enough but the next available selection course date wasn’t until after his birthday, leaving him with several months to focus on gaining the appropriate endorsements on his pilot’s licence to allow him to transport himself to and from his father’s intended island base.  

Gordon wasn’t bad at flying but he didn’t possess the raw natural talent of his youngest sibling.  He was competent and thorough with a steady hand but he couldn’t miss the looks of pride Jeff directed towards Alan as yet again the youngest of the family performed a manoeuvre as if he had been at the control yoke since birth.  It didn’t stop at looks either, all too often Gordon found himself on the receiving end of an unfavourable comparison only this time it was against his younger brother as opposed to his older ones and the arena was cockpit rather than classroom performance.  Evidently, for Jeff, old habits were hard to quell.

This time though Gordon wasn’t facing his troubles alone.  Scott would check in with him occasionally until an overseas posting took him out of contact but Virgil was his real lifeline.  Virgil made sure there was never more than a week between calls and often the gaps were smaller if he sensed Gordon slipping back and becoming more distant.  The brother who had taken on the role of counselor seemed to have an uncanny intuition when it came to Gordon’s mood.   

The extended time around his father however was still proving difficult and Gordon found himself eagerly boarding a flight to Denver to catch a much needed break.

As ever, Virgil was there to meet him at the airport.

“Good flight?”

“It was ok.”

“Not tempted to crash the cockpit then?”

Gordon just rolled his eyes and carried on out to the taxi ranks.  To his surprise though Virgil directed the cab to take them to the smaller private airfield out of town rather than the apartment.

“Sorry Gords” he got in response to his querying look.  “You know Dad said you gotta keep up your air time and this was the only runway slot I could get.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the deal.”  One of the conditions of a weekend with Virgil was that he got some time in the sky to make up for the lesson he was missing with his father.  “Are you alright with me taking up your baby?”

“I trust you” Virgil shrugged.  He wasn’t quite as in love with and overprotective of his plane as Scott was of his, but neither was he going to let on to Gordon that he had had a long and in depth discussion with their father about Gordon’s ability and competence before he had agreed to help with Gordon’s pilot education.

Gordon always thought it odd that Virgil had a plane but didn’t bother to run his own car, although the longer he spent in the air the more he could see the appeal.  Scott of course had always loved flight and it was no surprise to anyone that a big proportion of his allowance went on maintaining a craft that screamed billionaire playboy.  Virgil’s choice was more subtle and practical, if operating your own private plane counted as practical; perfect for hopping around the country from his central base in Denver to visit family on his own schedule.  Despite also being in possession of big enough allowance to afford it John had neither car nor plane having declared that flying commercial was much more sensible for his main coast to coast journey and he wasn’t one for pleasure flying; he was much more interested in what lay outside the atmosphere, far beyond the reach of a mere plane.

At the airfield Virgil maneuvered his little hopper out of the hanger he stored her in and then passed control over to Gordon.

“Go on then, show me what you can do” Virgil prompted after giving Gordon a quick rundown of the specific take off speed and other essential details he would need to operate the plane safely.  He settled back in the co-pilot's chair, exuding a calm confidence despite itching to keep his hands on the controls; Gordon might be his brother and Jeff had given assurances that all would be well but Virgil was still uncomfortably aware that he has supervising an unlicensed novice pilot.  

His fears were soon dispelled once Gordon started going through the motions in textbook fashion including performing his own pre-flight checks despite having watched those same checks being performed just a few minutes earlier.  A short burst down the runway and they were up in the air.  It wasn’t graceful and Gordon lacked the finesse that came with experience but Virgil was pleasantly surprised at the amount of  progress Gordon had made in such a short space of time.

The problem with flying though is that unless you are practicing something like aerobatics then just keeping a plane in the air is actually pretty easy, it’s the take off and landing that takes skill.  They weren’t making a journey so there was no real navigation to do beyond avoiding the restricted airspace and corridors used by the commercial flights and the weather was clear so flying by instruments was unnecessary.  All in all it was a thoroughly untaxing lesson, allowing them to relax and enjoy the time together.

“So how’s your project going?” Gordon asked as he banked to avoid flying directly over a village.

“It’s okay.  I’m on track to be done by the summer.”

“What will you do after that?  Move back to LA or stay out here?”

“Neither, hopefully.”  Gordon gave his brother a questioning glance of surprise.  “Got to get space rated for Dad’s project.  Me and John’ll be heading out to Tracy College for that, just waiting for confirmation of a course place.”

“Space rated?”  He had realised John would need to undergo astronaut training in preparation for life on a space station but most of the project specifics were still a mystery to him.

“Yeah.  Someone’s got to be able to play taxi service for John and I might need to take a rotation on call monitoring; he can’t live off planet forever.”

“Sounds like plans are really coming together for it.  Does this mean Scott will need to get space rated at Tracy College too?”

“Scott…”  There was a heavy pause and Gordon took his eye off the sky to regard his brother.  Virgil’s brow had furrowed into a frown and when he spoke again there was a heaviness that told of hidden arguments.  “Scott isn’t joining, he’s sticking to the Air Force.”

This surprised Gordon.  In the few conversations he had had with his father about the project, usually confined to a cockpit where Alan couldn’t overhear, Scott was talked about like Virgil was, as a committed member of the team. His role as first responder and pilot of the envisioned rocket plane had been presented in terms of undisputed fact.  No wonder the topic made Virgil look stormy, he was a peacemaker and if Scott wasn’t fitting in with their father’s vision Gordon could imagine that the arguments had been many and explosive.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  Oh.”

“So what’s going to happen there?  Surely you can’t manage with just the three of you?”

“I don’t know.  I’d like to think there is a contingency plan but Dad seems so sure Scott’s going to change his mind and do it.  They’re both as stubborn as mules though and neither wants to give up their dream.  It’s a good project, the tech looks amazing and we could really save lives.  I can see Scott’s point though, he’s made a life for himself away from Dad and, well, you know yourself what Dad can be like for giving orders.”

Gordon knew all too well what it felt like to be on the receiving end of those orders, particularly when they were at odds with your own plans.  At least Scott had the advantage of physical distance as a buffer to the disapproval and if push came to shove, if Jeff cut Scott off as punishment, the Air Force pay was enough to live on even if it meant Scott had to change his lifestyle to suit the lower budget.

Gordon made the final approach back towards the airfield, diverting the full attention of both brothers to monitoring the landing.  As with the take off it wasn’t polished and it wasn’t pretty but it was safe and Virgil found himself once again admiring just how far his brother had come in such a short space of time.  He wondered if, given time, Gordon would join the team.  Jeff hadn’t made any mention of Gordon taking on a role in the rescue organisation, even if he was now allowed to know of its existence, but there was no denying that having an extra pilot on books could only be a good thing.  Maybe one day he and Gordon would fly together, the more time he spent with his brother the more he enjoyed the company although, Virgil reflected, if they were to fly as a team he would be happier if Gordon took the co-pilot’s position.

With the plane back on the ground and safely returned to her berth in the hangers Virgil pushed all thoughts of Gordon joining the rescue business out of his mind; unless their father issued the instruction there was no point even considering the option.  And anyway, Gordon was heading off to the military like Scott had so who knew if he would even want to join the project.  Better to just let their father know that the required flying lesson had gone without a hitch then settle back to enjoy the weekend. 

[takingcourage]

Strangers on a Train

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Note: No murderers or psychopaths here -- just some goofy fun with my favorite mind reader. It’s also woefully unpolished, so please forgive any mistakes that may appear. Real life has conspired against my writing efforts lately. 

This piece was written for day 16 of the July Choices Challenge (Journey). Thanks to @julychoiceschallenge​ for the prompt and @krishu213 for the request! : ) 

That woman looks kinda familiar. Is she on something I watched on TV lately?

Drawing a staccato breath, Arden raised a hand to her cheek to make sure the wig was still secured. The long wavy locks tickled her ear with the movement, but they remained in place. While her hand was raised, she pushed the horn rimmed glasses back up the bridge of her nose, pausing at the tip as her finger slid down. 

They'd left the house less than an hour ago. Had they already been discovered? Surely not yet. How pathetic.

She cast her eye in the direction of the voice, careful to train her focus on the shifting advertisements on the screen behind. The man she’d overheard was turned the opposite way, his own interest given fully to a blond woman making her way toward the stairs.

Phew. 

"Here," Jaime interrupted, passing the slick rectangle of paper into her palm.

"Thank you," Arden answered after a beat, hoping that the Southern drawl sounded more natural to other ears than it did to her own.

He raised a brow. Sure you wanna keep this up?

Arden's chin jutted forward a fraction of an inch as she skimmed information on the ticket once more. The journey was only fourteen hours long. Most of that time, they'd be sleeping. Once Cassidy picked them up from the station in the morning, they'd be back to their normal selves.

You're right. Stupid question, Jaime amended as he shuffled closer. 

She caught the sleeve of his jacket with a small smile. “I may not get any sleep. I have a mind to stay up and look out the window all night.” 

Jaime chuckled as he slipped his fingers between hers. “We’ll see. Once we start moving, you may be lulled to sleep.” 

“Maybe,” she wavered skeptically, glancing back down at the ticket in her other hand. Compared to the joy of traveling, sleep just didn’t seem very important. 

As was the case with so many of their schemes over the years, this whole situation had begun with such an innocent start. Jaime had been the one to suggest that they turn the trip for Chris and Meta's wedding into a weekend excursion. She'd latched onto the idea, especially after realizing how easy it would be to make the journey by train. 

From there, the plan had just sort of run away with her. The thought of reminiscing with her college friends had made her realize how much she’d changed in the years since she’d dropped out of school. Thinking about those changes led her to wonder what it would be like to assume another identity for a few hours.

Her persona had to be something fun -- something that would make her completely unrecognizable. Posing as an odor tester from Georgia was the perfect challenge to keep the trip interesting. She’d be able to shed the disguise well before the wedding festivities began, and none of the other passengers would ever be the wiser about having sat across the car from one of Northbridge’s rising celebrities. 

Sucking a small breath as she handed off her ticket and ID, she let it out again slowly when she was given approval without incident. It was a good thing her license picture was from so many years ago. Age and a haircut had done a lot to change her features in the meantime, leaving her with a portrait that looked as unlike her normal appearance as it did today’s variation. 

Smothering a giggle in her coat collar, Arden stepped up into the car and peered down its length. She shuffled forward in the narrow aisle, swinging her tote back in a gentle arc toward her stomach. It had been months since she’d been in a crowd of this size without feeling positive that someone would recognize her sooner or later. While she didn’t begrudge the loss of her anonymity, there was something novel about being an unknown entity again. 

A gasp broke through her thoughts, followed by a quiet curse that no one else heard. Impulse turned her head toward the middle-aged traveler behind her. 

It’s all down my shirt! I can’t believe I did that. I can’t show up at Pat’s tomorrow with tea stains!

"Oh, bless your heart,” Arden cried softly, meeting the man’s light blue eyes. “Do you reckon we can find some towels over yonder?” 

Jaime had already released her fingers and was making his way toward the nearest lavatory. His thoughts carried over his shoulder as he traveled. Good grief, Arden. You can pull off an accent and a wig, but you can't pass as eighty. 

She channeled her laughter into a sympathetic smile that was just a bit too high up on one side. Surveying the situation before her, she commented, “Oh, those lids ain’t worth a lick, are they? They’re just no good at all. Always leaking and making a mess.” 

The tea-stained passenger regarded her curiously before repeating his attempt to snap the lid back into place. “I’d have to agree,” he said finally, motioning to his saturated polo. 

“Here,” Jaime passed a small pile of paper towels over her shoulder. The man accepted them with a grateful nod and began dabbing at the affected fabric. 

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, sir!” Arden called as she followed her husband further down the car. 

“So much for keeping your head down,” Jaime mumbled, more to himself than to her as they settled into their seats. 

“What’s the point of doing this if I can’t interact with people? I want to see what the world is like through another perspective.” Straightening in her seat before her impassioned whisper could draw too much attention, she glanced up to smile at those who were still boarding. 

“You’re going to be doing this all night, aren’t you?” 

She tittered at his fond accusation and reached into the tote for her book. “Tomorrow too.”  

_____

“Hi, I’m Elizabeth.” 

Though she’d practiced giving her middle name, the syllables still seemed to clutter her tongue. Compared to what she was used to, it was much too long and unwieldy to feel natural. 

“Gina.” The young woman across the table smiled eagerly, though Arden could sense the tinge of discomfort as they slid into the opposite side of the booth. 

“Nice to meet you, Gina. I’m Jaime. Sure you don’t mind us joining you for dinner?” 

Her head started bobbing from side to side. “No! Not at all.” 

“Thanks.” Arden tilted the menu up to read the contents. “Is this your first time taking the train?”

Gina leaned forward to answer. “No, I use it to go home for most college breaks. It’s a little old fashioned, but I love it,” she admitted with a faint blush. “This is my first time going home since the start of the semester.” I hope my parents are getting along this time. 

Arden had to bite her cheek to avoid reacting to the stray thought. Brightening, she lowered her menu to look Gina full in the face. “Any tips for first-time travelers?”

They fell into easy conversation, trading thoughts on every topic from Gina’s school to Jaime’s latest projects around the city. Eventually, talk drifted to Arden’s assumed profession. Her delight at getting to show off her research mingled with the risk of making a misstep. 

“What’s your favorite smell?” Gina questioned with unfeigned interest.

“Hmm,” Arden pondered, settling the fork back onto her pile of rice pilaf. “My favorite category is woody scents.” 

Jaime nudged her with a discreet elbow as she elaborated. Is this Arden speaking or Elizabeth?

She warmed at the question, grateful she was sitting close enough to make out the traces of cedar and pine embedded in the denim of his jacket. But as appealing as her husband was, she wanted to know more about the young woman sitting across from them. 

“What did you say you were studying?”

“Molecular biology!” The woman’s thoughts started bouncing off one another like heating atoms. 

Arden couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since the last time someone had asked about it with genuine interest. She took another bite of her roasted chicken to show that Gina was free to continue talking. 

“I just submitted a proposal for my capstone. It’s about the...” she chattered excitedly, using words that threw Arden back to long afternoons of sitting through Chemistry 101. Even so, she was grateful when Jaime’s insightful series of questions kept Gina talking through the end of their meal. 

“I’ve got a ton of reading to get through this weekend,” she explained after their dishes had been cleared away, ”but it’s been so fun talking. See you for breakfast in the morning?” 

“Definitely,” Arden confirmed before the other woman returned to her seat.

“You make friends everywhere, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes at Jaime’s undertone and gathered her tote bag. “Like you have room to talk. You’re friends with everybody.” 

“Almost everybody,” he corrected. I’m pretty sure I still owe Alec Burdock a talking to. 

Try as she might, Arden couldn’t contain her laughter as she followed him out of the dining car. 

_____

Toothbrush in one hand, Arden used the other to raise a grateful wave toward the train attendant. “Thank you! Goodnight.” 

Snapping the sliding door shut behind her, she turned into the roomette to face Jaime. Already changed into his pajamas, he held out a hand to welcome her into the bed. 

“Are you Arden again?”

With a nod, she reached up to peel the wig away from her forehead. The fake hair hadn’t been uncomfortable, but it was still an incredible relief to strip away the excess layer and feel the cool air at her hairline. 

“Let me help,” Jaime offered as the back caught on the hair at her neck. His steady hands made short work of the tangle, and he passed her the full wig within moments. 

“Thanks.” She smoothed out the strands before placing it carefully on an overhead shelf. Lowering back to the mattress, she reached behind her to unzip the top of her dress. His fingers were there to replace her own within moments. “You’re very accommodating,” she praised while pulling the garment over her head. 

“Of course.” 

“And you were right about me sleeping,” she disclosed, tugging her pajama shorts up around her hips. “I’m exhausted.” 

Jaime simply nodded and welcomed her down onto the makeshift mattress after she turned out the light. She curled close, breathing a tranquil sigh when his arm encircled her waist. 

“Arden,” he breathed into her temple, hardly audible above the ambient sounds of the rails beneath them. "I'm glad you're you."

“Me too,” she whispered, her knuckles idly trailing the dusty line of stubble at his jaw. Snuggling into his side, she reflected on the day’s events. 

Tonight had been fun, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to the morning as well. Yet, the charms of her own life outweighed those of any other. She’d never trade it for anything. 

[mynachopaper]

Heyo...I’d like you to answer all of the weird questions that say a lot please...😇🖤

That’s very naughty of you. I expect payment when I’m done...

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Wine glasses. I love their shape

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubble gum, I like the oral fixation

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Wierd, creepy, creative. “He needs to find an outlet or have a beating”- My arabic teacher

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Glass bottles

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tomboy

7. earbuds or headphones?

Headphones

8. movies or tv shows?

Both

9. favorite smell in the summer?

river in the cedar forest

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Fencing

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Nothing (sometimes fruit if I need to)

12. name of your favorite playlist?

SHmood

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Turkish delights

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

Simon versus the Homosapien agenda

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Legs to my chest on a chair

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My trainers

18. ideal weather?

Thunder and rain

19. sleeping position?

Curled up on my side

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Notebook but laptops are great for convenience

21. obsession from childhood?

Horror stories and or occult (Yes I cringe too)

22. role model?

Don’t have one

23. strange habits?

I like to practice voices and movements (mostly for DnD) anywhere. Shopping, cooking, with the cat. normally I’m on my own but I’ve been caught a few times.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian

25. first song you remember hearing?

Wide, wide as the ocean- My dad sang it to me as a kid

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swimming

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Bonfire jumping (used to do it with the scout kids)

28. five songs to describe you?

Fall into me- Alev Lenz

Rush- I am waiting for you last summer

Smile- Nat King Cole

Limb to limb- Fatal

Kiss breakdown- Micheal Brook (Perks of being a wallflower soundtrack) 

29. best way to bond with you?

Discuss your passions and your fears. Other than that, play silly games with me.

30. places that you find sacred?

Anywhere that is deemed so. 

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

My pajamas (honestly no idea)

32. top five favorite vines?

Don’t have favourites.

33. most used phrase in your phone?

I love you to the moon and back.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

I have adblock so I don’t hear enough for them to get stuck. Maybe the old spice commercial.

35. average time you fall asleep?

12-1am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

The orly owl

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea?

lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon meringue pie (obviously)

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Nothing too weird. We did have a slew of dead birds that were killed and placed in weird positions. They were claimed to be omens.

The culprit was never caught. But I did have an old journal where I kept notes on them. I lost it in the move though..

41. last person you texted?

My online friend in the uk

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie, I need the soft

44. favorite scent for soap?

sandalwood

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, DnD for life

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Shirt and underwear

47. favorite type of cheese?

Brie

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Orange

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

Already answered

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

When my friend and I got stuck in traffic so we listened to the John Mulaney story about the salt and pepper diner. Afterward we actually made the playlist and listened to it. We died, the song got to us and we lost our minds.

51. current stresses?

My Father being ok back home. Me not finishing uni. Breaking my promise to my friends back home of making something of myself.

52. favorite font?

Bree Serif

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Their ok, quite dexterous. My nails have grown out too

54. what did you learn from your first job?

People take production for granted. The public opinion of a show means little. The entertainment industry is weaker than everyone treats it.

55. favorite fairy tale?

The Bloody Chamber

Book by Angela Carter

56. favorite tradition?

Our family does breakfast in bed for the birthday person

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Self harm, the invasion of my country, getting out of my old life.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I improvise well, I remain calm in an emergency, and am often the first to act. I have good emotional skills. I will always find a way, though it often comes at great cost.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

After someone tells me I can’t do something “HAVE YOU MET ME?!”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Probably Shonen. Love me some JoJoBA

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Yeah, I stayed. I stayed, because every time you threw a brick at my head, or said I smelled, it *hurt*; but it could never hurt more than every day of my life just being *me*! I *stayed* because I thought, if anyone can change me, can make me... *not* me, it was you! - Kung Fu Panda

62. seven characters you relate to?

Tarzan-Stich-Quisimodo-Ginger (From Chicken run)- Po (Kung fu Panda)- Mulan (Yes really)- Charlie (Perks of being a wallflower)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Shut up and dance with me- Walk the moon

Suzy- Caravan Palace

Rocket Fuel feat. De La Soul - DJ Shadow

Come with me now - KONGOS

Dance with me tonight - Olly Murs

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Miniclip

65. any permanent scars?

Some on my arms and a large one on my forearm 

66. favorite flower(s)?

I’m a cliche, I love roses

67. good luck charms?

My Celtic ring and my pride pin

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

It was chocolate shrimp in Sanfrancisco. Fad food with an abhorrent mixture.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Spiders don’t kill every prey that falls into their web. Sometimes they just wrap them up and let them squirm helpessly.

70. left or right handed?

Right, unless eating

71. least favorite pattern?

Uh... not sure

72. worst subject?

Maths

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Fries and Icecream

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

8

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I was 5

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Baked potatoes, especially with Sour cream and garlic 

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Sushi from grocery

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

School Id (not by much though)

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

PC

83. writing or drawing?

Writing, though I wish I could draw

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Neither

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies

87. your greatest fear?

That I had no impact on anything

88. your greatest wish?

To gain the power to change the world

89. who would you put before everyone else?

The one I love. A partner (If we had a child then it falls to them)

90. luckiest mistake?

When I had an accident at work over my selfharm wounds. Some metal staging scraped against my arm.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Fairylights

93. nicknames?

Teddy, Monster, Quis

94. favorite season?

Winter

95. favorite app on your phone?

Reddit is fun

96. desktop background?

My current Pfp

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2 My parents

98. favorite historical era?

Don’t really have a favourite

[marithlizard]

Ace Attorney: Rise From the Ashes (part 1)

A couple of people expressed interest in a writeup as I play through the game, so I thought I’d give quasi-liveblogging a try.   It might have come out to be too detailed - let me know if the result is amusing enough to go through the next part.  

(I knew this already, but wow liveblogging is a lot of work.   And it must take twice as much effort to do this for a show and to include screencaps.)

(I’ve tried three times now to put proper line breaks/spacing in, and they’re just not displaying, at least on desktop. I’m sorry.)

A brief,  stylized opening designed not to give away much, except that a creepy-looking doll is involved.

 Two months?  Phoenix, you haven't taken a single client since Maya left?    a) are you depressed, and b) how are you paying rent on the office?

Ookay, you're not going to tell us why you've been moping around. I don't think it's that you have a crush on Maya.  Are you just not able to function without a partner?   That's not great for your ability to survive, but I can sympathize.  

 New perky assistant, right on cue.  (A partner who isn't a young girl would be a nice change now and then. (But not Larry.  Anyone but Larry. In fact, I take it back, this girl with the pink sunglasses will do just fine.))

Oof,  Phoenix still not being able to say out loud that Mia's dead.

In the first two minutes pink-glasses girl has asserted that he's his female boss, the coffee boy, and 'better than nothing'.   Aha!  The problem with all the clients he turned down was that they didn't insult him enough.

Kid, you can't be more than sixteen, and you have silly face buttons  on your lab coat.  You are about as much a scientific investigator as Photography Girl last episode was a journalist.   ...But apparently you have a future job lined up in forensics, so you're more organized than she was.  And this world certainly could use more competent crime scene analysis.  

"I promised her I'd bring Mia Fey".  Huh.  Is Mia's murder not well-known to the public,  then, even though the Edgeworth case apparently got famous enough to earn Phoenix a bit of a reputation?

A murder charge with an eyewitness, and an assistant who "kind of hates" her sister the defendant.  Sounds hopeless, let's do it! Off to the Detention Center. 

...Did we just overhear the defendant threatening their terrified guard with a pay freeze?  Is she their boss? And if she's someone that high up, why doesn't she already have a better defense attorney?

I like Lana Skye's character design. She looks as though she should be starring in a Takurazuka revue show, swearing eternal star-crossed love to a princess.  

She insists she did it.  By genre convention we know that can't be the case; my first assumption is that she's being forced to cover for someone, blackmailed  or coerced  by someone higher up in the system.   But it would certainly be interesting if it  turned out she was covering for Ema.  

Must....resist...plotbunnies...

Oookay.  A prosecutor should certainly know ways to commit murder without getting caught, and this sounds like the opposite of those ways.    WHY does she claim she did this?  You're not even going to ask her, are you?  *headdesk*

Ema:  "Please ignore that totally gay statement by my sister,  because I certainly plan to!"

Lana: "No don't help me, go away go away go away go away go awa-oh fine."

Hmmm.  From Ema's description of the behavior change,  Lana has been being blackmailed or coerced for a long time now.

Time to go investigate the underground parking garage.

Attorneys aren't supposed to examine crime scenes, and defense attorneys aren't entitled to a copy of the police investigation reports.  What does a "normal" defense attorney in this world do for their clients then?  Always assume a loss and try to negotiate a plea bargain?  I wonder if we'll ever get to see one in action.

It's...a cop with a cowboy fetish?  Do police not have dress codes here?  Maybe they're waived above a certain level,  and some people take pride in cultivating a unique style to show off that they can.  It would explain Edgeworth.  

You are dramatically pretending to shave in front of us.  Also you just called Ema a baby cow.  Although you know her and seem sympathetic - I guess Lana brought her little sister to the office sometimes?  Not sure what I think of you, Jake Marshall.

I am revising my stance. Being Phoenix's partner on a case requires precise and narrow qualifications.  Specifically, just enough sense to stop him from doing something breathtakingly stupid, but not enough sense to take the badge firmly away from him and do the job themselves.   Ema fits the bill perfectly.

Ooh, new mechanic!  And an ID card number for a Bruce Goodman who dresses like a white-hat agent in Spy vs Spy. (I was trained on games that would require you to write that number down and remember it later, but AA will certainly be more forgiving.)  

Using the new mechanic on Phoenix's attorney badge,  I deduce that at some point this game it will be stolen.  

It doesn't explain Lana's supposed actions, but that red sports car does kind of scream "My owner is a jerk, stuff a body in my trunk."   Instead of a chalk outline, they seem to have outlined the hanging body with string?  Is that actually a technique, and how do they get the rope to stay put in precise outline?

And the cowboy gives them a hint.  So he's  on their side but constrained by rules?

Lady put the boobs away.  Why are you selling sushi in a negligee under a fur coat, at a crime scene?  And why would anyone trust food from someone whose nickname is "the Cough-Up Queen"?

Angel Starr, dominatrix lunch lady.   It says something that this is not the weirdest witness in an AA game so far.

She hates prosecutors, and therefore especially Lana. Not a trustworthy witness. But it's probably no fun to cater for a group of (relatively) wealthy and powerful people you despise.   Especially if they're smugly giving awards to each other as they eat lunches.  (Eeeevil lunches.  She probably coughs on them.)

"The rhythmic beat of Lana Skye's knife"...  very poetic, but didn't Lana say the victim was stabbed only once?

We can't get back to the car, phooey, so up to the prosecutor's office we go.

Pink...everywhere...no question whose office this is, even if one of his outfits wasn't framed on the wall.  (why do you frame an outfit?)     I see a very ugly trophy on the sofa, so he's the one who won the award.

Ema:  "this is the kind of room that just screams 'I can do the job'. Actually it screams 'I don't need to pretend to be heterosexual', but the two aren't unconnected.    

Is it just me or is that trophy broken off at the top?

Edgeworth did you just roll with being insulted and make a joke about it?   I'm so proud of you, you've clearly relaxed since your murder trial!

BWAHAHA of course it was Edgeworth's car.

Wendy the security guard from the Steel Samurai case is sending Edgeworth expensive presents??   a) that's both funny and a little sad,  b) how can she afford it,  and c)  he keeps and displays them which is very courteous.

WAIT did you - did this game just heavily suggest Gumshoe hangs out in the office a lot?  Twice, once when you look at the shelves and again when you look at the desk?  I don't ship it, but this is the point where I start to see why people do.

Awwww he's embarrassed about the trophy, that's cute.    So he's the one who "devours the evillest lunches of all",  hmm?   I wouldn't have thought the Cough-Up Queen's weird not-even-fresh lunches would appeal to Edgeworth's refined tastes.

Ema actually has a bit of a crush, from the way she's rhapsodizing about Edgeworth sleeping on the sofa.  d'awww.   And I definitely want to know the story behind the outfit.  Made by his mom and too precious to wear?

Edgeworth, no one thinks you did it.   Sheesh.  He certainly doesn't sound happy about having to prosecute Lana,  even though he believes she's guilty.  His car, his knife... it almost seems like this is a plot aimed at him, or perhaps a plot against Lana with a healthy dose of fuck-you-too-Edgeworth to it.

Huh.  Maybe it *is* aimed at him. I've been assuming all this time from his behavior on the stand that Edgeworth has indeed been messing with evidence to convict obviously innocent people, and also assuming that it's common practice in this corrupt justice system. (Much as it is in Japan and in the US).  But the way he's talking about rumors right now, it sounds more like he's being slandered.  And he thinks the award he was given was out of mockery.  Ouch.

So yes, the trophy is broken.   (In RWBY, you assume everything is a gun;  in AA, you assume everything is a murder weapon.  It probably broke when it was used to hit someone over the head.)

Evidence transferal day, huh?  Was the murder timed to draw attention away from a case being closed?    And Edgeworth parked his car only three minutes before Goodman was stabbed  and thrown into its trunk?    No way.  He was there for the murder, or more likely that's not when the murder happened.   (Is he being coerced like Lana?  I don't think so, but it's possible.)

Enter an idiot mailman with a bandaged hand.  And exit, with sniveling. What was that about?

And a hint to go investigate at the police station.  Is Edgeworth being friendly, attempting to signal something, or merely aware that the most efficient way to get rid of Phoenix is to give him a clue to chase?

The police department entrance, with some sort of plywood jester figure in front of it.  We're offhandedly informed that it took 30 minutes to get there from Edgeworth's office, which means that will be important later.

This is the creepy doll from the intro! It's clearly meant to be a mascot. Was it made by the sniveling mailman?  There's  a certain resemblance...

No, I should've guessed that Gumshoe made it.   I mean ... mechanically it's pretty clever for someone who's not a craftsman or engineer?  Moving articulated limbs and all.  It's just the aesthetics and design he shouldn't have been allowed anywhere  near.

Yes, yes it is odd that only the top-ranked people are being allowed to work on the case. Are they all in on it?    A patrolman in charge of the crime scene instead of a detective - that suggests Marshall is part of the conspiracy.  I'm thinking the dominatrix lunch lady is too.

Gumshoe is so happy about the prosecutor's award - Edgeworth probably didn't have the heart to say that for him it's a mockery.  Daww.  (Also there's something endearingly cheerful about  his hopping-caterpillar eyebrows.)   He's also being much more helpful than his superiors would want, probably just because he thinks of Phoenix as an ally in general now.  

Back to the parking lot, with a letter of introduction in hand this time.

I genuinely can't tell if the lunch lady is a sex worker, if she actually has multiple boyfriends, or if that's code for her professional contacts in whatever she's really doing here.   (And that's an interesting cultural bit, isn't it - any of those options seem possible, and I'm not expecting any of the characters to question her competence or morality because of it, not even in court.   If this was a US-made game my expectations would be...different.)

"Good men always die young"...I see what you did there, Marshall.    

Autopsy report confirms one stab wound.  Lana and the victim worked together on "a case a few years back", ding ding ding.   Someone didn't want the evidence for that case transferred. Or looked at. 

 Marshall used to be a detective but got demoted?  And he's lying about why he was assigned to the crime scene, and telling us Gumshoe is off the case because he's friends with Edgeworth.  The police chief, whoever he is, is now at the top of my suspect list.

 Happily, the game will let me do dumbass things like show off Goodman's ID card without consequences.  Marshall seems very uninterested in it and why it was found so far from the spot of the murder, which I take to mean "we have our official narrative, don't go messing it up with facts or evidence." 

Finally we can examine the car!  First up, Lana's cellphone.  The whole business about hitting redial and somehow not knowing that Ema's phone rang was weird.  Phoenix’s lie couldn't possibly have fooled Marshall, who is bizarrely claiming there's no way to know who the last call was made to.  It's an odd thing to conceal, even given the “no facts please we have our narrative” stance.  Maybe he's trying to protect Ema somehow?) 

 Marshall said the rumors about Edgeworth came from Lana.  And we have a note found  in the trunk:  6-7S 12/2, on a piece of Goodman's stationery.  

 Er, yeah, Ema, why didn't you mention your sister called you 3 minutes after the claimed murder time?  If Lana hung up right away that's hardly incriminating for either of you.

 End of Day One!  We are, as usual, completely unprepared for tomorrow morning's trial.

[midnight-heroes]

If it’s not to much, I’d like to request Deku, Bakugo, and Kirishima with a crush who’s gender fluid. He/She very proud of they are, and have all sorts of different wigs and makeup and clothes for both genders. I understand if this is too difficult to write, I just thought this would be so cute, and I’ve never seen something like this before!!

//I hope this is alright. This was a challenge I didn’t want to refuse but I don’t know all that much about gender fluid individuals based on what I have been raised with and what I’m currently exposed to. If anyone would like to educate me however, feel free! I love to learn.

Izuku Midoriya

His attraction to you had nothing to do with your appearance or gender to start.

The day he met you, he was actually tripping over his attraction towards Uraraka.

As he spent more time with you however, and he got to know you, that started to change.

This boy was absolutely fascinated with the fact that you had a different look to you all the time.

Of course, at school, there wouldn’t be too much you could do with yourself since you kinda had to match your student ID, especially for excursions.

His fascination turned into attraction and before he knew it, he was wanting to see more and more and delve deeper in the way you think and how you feel about being gender fluid.

He is beyond pleased to know that you’re proud of who you are and fully supports you.

To be honest, you probably confuse the boy sexuality wise but in the end, he’s able to tell himself for sure that it isn’t your gender he’s attracted to, but your awesome personality and confidence.

As an additional point, he would practically beg for you to show him your collection of wigs.

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo is probably the most confused over the whole gender fluid thing.

Like- why the hell can’t you just be the gender you were born as?

He can understand not dressing up in a girly/boyish fashion but to literally switch between ‘preferences’ on a regular basis is just pointless isn’t it?

He learns to put up with it though, even if it does kind of bug him.

While he starts to like you, he starts hanging out with you some more, even in your dorm where, low and behold, you kept your stash of wigs, makeup and clothing.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of likes watching you get ready. Your collection would have him a little awestruck.

That would be the offical moment it clicked in his head that you weren’t pulling the piss with all of this.

This was actually who you were and to see you so proud of yourself for it was... kinda hot.

It was from there that he silently started to support you, defending you when people took jabs at you and even- unknown to others- learning how to apply makeup to help you out at times.

Not that you need help, but it gives him an excuse to hang around you more often.

Eijiro Kirishima

“Woah, your hair is super different today!”

That’s literally the first time Kirishima noticed that you change things about your appearance.

From then on, he always looks out for different wigs, makeup styles, etc and always throws a compliment your way.

In his eyes, one day you’re handsome and manly and another day, you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen.

He never expected to fall for someone who is gender fluid but damn did it give him a whole new perspective on genders, appearances and the whole lot.

Please let him watch you put your makeup on or teach him how you put your wig on so flawlessly.

This boy is so star struck every time he sees the slightest change in your get up.

What makes you all the more alluring to him is your confidence. It just radiates off of you and it draws him in like a magnet.

As an extra point, referring to all three of these boys, Kiri would be the first to out right confess that he is utterly in love with you.

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (31/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to tag previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!”

A/N: Thank you for letting me take last week off. I just needed to have a bit of time to recuperate and find my inspiration for this story. At first, writing this chapter was difficult but then all these ideas just started to hit and i’m literally so excited and pumped for this season. I have a lot planned and am excited to see what you all think!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 05x01 and 05x02

With a deep inhale, you push your hands upwards, holding them out before you.

You can’t see a thing before you. Everything is completely pitch black, and in the silence you can hear, or rather feel, your heart pump erratically against your chest. You’re anxious, frightened even, but you bite it back. You need to do this.

In your mind, you envision your target; the book laying on the table adjacent to you. You practically force it into your mind, not allowing yourself to slip from thought of it as you feel the tips of your fingers tingle in response. You can do this, you tell yourself, hoping to convince yourself of that fact. All you need to do is believe in yourself and you’ll be able to do it.

So, you kick your left foot back, body tensing as you continue to envision that damned book. It’s directly in front of you, you’ve practiced this enough times to know by now. And even if it isn’t, you should be able to do it.

With one more deep inhale, a glow surrounds you. The purple hue only manages to light up the surface area around you, letting you see the wooden floors beneath you tinted with purple. You keep your eyes open, refusing to let them fall shut, and push forward with your mind, thinking of your object in hand. Your powers shoot out before you in a surge of light, hitting something and causing a crash.

The moment you let your hands fall, you turn your head over your shoulder, turning the lights on with a flick of your chin, rushing over to the table. Sure enough, you’d hit your target.

“Yes,” you cheer, a bright smile falling on your lips as you practically jump in spot. “That’s what i’m talking about.”

You did it. You’d actually done it. And sure, at this point it’d taken you weeks to actually master it, but you were getting better. If you thought about your target hard enough, you could hit them without seeing them. You didn’t have to actually see them, just know that they were here. That realization causes your entire body to feel light with relief and accomplishment. It feels like months you’ve been working towards this goal and finally, you’ve reached it.

You only wished that--

Your thoughts are interrupted by your phone ringing. It causes you to jump lightly in surprise, tucking your hair behind your ears as you glance around in search of your phone. Finding it, you rush over to it, bending down to pick it and frowning when you see the caller id. Why was Stiles calling? You don’t remember him saying anything about hanging out or meeting up--

Oh, right.

With a frown, you answer the call, placing it against your ear, bracing yourself.

“Where the hell are you!”

Pulling the phone back briefly, you glance at the time, wincing when you realize how late it already is and how late you already were. Placing the phone back against your ear, you bite your bottom lip. “I’m... I lost track of time,” you mumble, moving towards the door. “I’m at Derek’s loft now, i’ll be there--”

“I’m coming to pick you up,” Stiles says without hesitation, “i’ll be there in a few.”

Blinking, your lips part. “Okay,” but by the time you’ve spoken, Stiles has already hung up. You pull your phone away with disbelief, watching as the call ends before shaking your head.

Sure enough, no more than ten or twenty minutes late, Stiles pulls up in front of you. You step out from underneath the cover, ducking your head in response to the rain as you rush around to the passenger side of Stiles’ jeep, pulling open the door and slipping inside moments later. Stiles only greets you with a simple nod as you buckle yourself in, causing you to frown.

When he moves to pull away, your hand falling on his wrist halts him. Stiles turns to you with a frown, one that you mimic. “Stiles,” you call, your voice soft with worry. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles shrugs, turning back to the front. “Nothing’s the matter.”

“I might not be able to hear your heart beat, but I can still tell you’re lying Stiles,” you sigh, shaking your head. You let your eyes wander across his facial expression for a moment, having known the boy long enough to tell when he’s anxious and nervous and he’s definitely that right now. “Why is this thing so important to you?”

“It’s not,” Stiles shrugs once more, gently pulling his hand away to clasp the other in his lap. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe it is.” Biting your lip, you remain silent but the look in your eyes is enough to convince Stiles to continue. “Okay, I asked my dad the other day about his high school friends.” You nod, “guess how many he still talks to? None. None. Not a single one. You know, these were his best friends and he just says he lost touch with them, you know. So, I started thinking about things like I always do.”

Tilting your head, you wince; “obsessively.”

“Yeah,” Stiles huffs, “and i’m thinking, what if... what if Scott’s my best friend now, you know, but he’s not my best friend for life?”

Slumping into your seat, you bite your bottom lip. “That just happens sometimes,” you mumble, unsure of what else to stay. “It’s just life.”

“It’s not just life,” Stiles argues, shaking his head. “It happens only because we let it happen. You know, that’s what I’m saying. How come when we graduate we’re just expected to go our separate ways? If I’ve already found the best people in my life, why aren’t I trying to stay with them, you know?”

“Okay,” you say slowly, “isn’t that the plan though? The dream?”

“The vision,” Stiles corrects, raising a brow your way. “And don’t mock the vision.”

Shaking your head, you lean forward, once again setting your hand over Stiles’ but this time, clasping his tightly. “I like the vision,” you assure, “I... I love the vision. Especially if i’m part of it.”

Stiles’ face eases, and he squeezes your hand in return.

Realization dawns; “that’s why you wanted everyone at the school tonight. Why it was so important.” Stiles frowns, “because you don’t want to lose all your friends after senior year.”

“And I hope they don’t want to lose me either.”

Smiling softly, you lean forward, pressing your lips against Stiles’. He easily returns the kiss, cupping your cheek to pull you closer as you let your eyes fall shut with ease.

However, the kiss is ended short the minute you hear rapid knocking against the door window. You jump at the noise, spinning your head over your shoulder with panic and confusion until your eyes land on Liam. He looks panicked, his knocking still consistent and with a huff and a brief glance Stiles’ way, you open the car door.

“Liam,” Stiles calls, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

Tucking a strand behind your ear, you shake your head. “How’d you even find us?”

“Scent,” Liam shrugs, dismissing it with a shake of his head. “But that’s not important. Scott’s in trouble.”

-

“Scott!”

Your brows furrow at the sight of someone, someone you don’t recognize, next to Kira, one that immediately growls in return to Liam’s threatening one. However, your attention on him doesn’t last long the minute you feel a tightness in your throat and the sight of Scott slowly sinking to his knees, the enemy before him squeezing his throat.

You move to step forward, intent on helping your brother, but you pause when you notice Scott getting back up to his feet and the red glow of his eyes.

It breaks the arm of the creature before him, causing it to bellow out in pain and sink to it’s knees instead. Scott then pulls out the creatures claws out of his chest, easily tossing them to the floor which clatter in response. “I don’t know who you are,” Scott speaks up, shaking his head. “Or what you thought you were going to do, but i’ll give you a choice. You can stay and I’ll break something else, or you can run.”

“I’d run,” Stiles calls when the man turns to look your way.

He listens, pushing himself up to his feet, all while cradling his arm and proceeding to run off without so much as a minute of hesitance. Almost instantly, you rush to Scott’s side, your hand falling on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

He nods, setting his hand over your own and squeezing, before everyone turns to the odd one out.

The boy looks to be around your age, and something about him seems familiar. But you can’t quite place it.

He smirks when he realizes all eyes are on him, and with a few short steps, he reaches the lot of you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” Your eyes squint, and you try to think back because he’s right, you should recognize him. But you only draw a blank. “I guess I do look a little different since the fourth grade.”

Then, it hits you. Your lips part; “Theo?”

Instantly, a smirk falls on his lips as his eyes slide to your own. “Hey, Y/N.”

Swallowing thickly, you take a step back just as Malia sets her hand on your arm. “You know him?”

“They used to,” Theo answers for you, “trust me, I never thought I’d see you guys again. Couple of months ago, I heard of an Alpha in Beacon Hills. When I found out his name was Scott McCall, I just couldn’t believe it. Not just an Alpha, but a True Alpha.”

Shuffling slightly, Scott nods; “what do you want?”

“I came back to Beacon Hills. Back home with my family. Because I want to be a part of your pack.”

Turning to Stiles, you frown.

-

“We haven’t seen this kid in years. You don’t find that highly suspicious?”

“I’m kind of more concerned about the guy who just tried to kill me.”

Poking your head in between the two, you raise your hand. “I second that.”

Just then, before anyone can reply, Malia’s phone buzzes. Instantly, you turn to her.

Her face brightens and she lowers her phone, a look of relief in her eyes; “i’m in!”

Almost instantly, a smile erupts onto your face. Without hesitation, you step forward, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close for a celebratory embrace. “I’m so proud.” You say when you pull back, placing your hand over your heart with a dramatic pause.

Laughing lightly, Malia pulls away, smiling at you before turning to Kira; “i’m officially a senior.”

“Thank God.”

Blinking, you turn your head to the right, eyes brightening when they land on Lydia. Moving through the crowd, Lydia shakes her head; “where have you guys been? The whole senior class is here. Are we doing this or not?”

Letting Stiles pull you against him, you step in tow with him.

-

Taking the marker from Stiles’ hand, you smile at him, stepping forward. You let your eyes wander across the signatures for a moment, a fond smile growing on your lips when you notice Derek’s initials. You miss him.

Then, you pull the cap off, writing Y/F/I and Y/L/I above Stiles’. Satisfied, you cap the pen, handing it to Lydia before falling next to Stiles.

And as you watch the rest of your friends do the same, you can’t help but smile. Your final year...

-

You walk up the steps to the school with your head dipped downwards. Lost in your thoughts.

The nightmares have started again. Worst then before. But no matter how hard you tried to understand why they came back or even how, you just couldn’t wrap your brain around them. You used to get them when you were a little kid, about right after your father left. Then, one day, they just stopped. Never came back until, back when Scott had first been bitten, they’d started up again but disappeared when you learned you were a witch.

You’d thought they were related to your powers, but that didn’t really explain why you had them when you were a kid. In truth, you still didn’t know why you’d gotten them but you thought you were done. That you wouldn’t get them anymore. And yet, here they were. You’d been trying to hide the fact from Melissa and Scott, but that proved to be more of a challenge with the latter. And you knew Scott knew, of course he did. With your connection and him being a werewolf, how could he not?

Because you knew sometimes, even from all the way in his room, Scott could hear you wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Panting, sweaty and crying sometimes. Even if he couldn’t, he would just feel it, just like you feel it when he’s panicked or upset or in danger. He’d never come inside your room though, just simply sit outside your door until you fell back asleep.

At first, you’d been oblivious to it. But one morning you opened your door only to find him fast asleep right outside.

Even if you didn’t speak, even if you couldn’t see him and he never came into your room, his presence was soothing. Enough so that it helped you fall back asleep.

He used to do it when you were kids though too. When your mom moved you to separate rooms, instead of the bunk bed you used to share, Scott would still sleep outside your door, just to make sure you were okay. Even when you didn’t have nightmares and just because. It’d always been like that.

But the nightmares were getting to you, and you found yourself exhausted. All you wanted to know was why.

You refused to tell Stiles, even if he had his suspicions. You didn’t want him worrying when he had enough on his own plate. And you refused to tell your mom either. Because you didn’t want to bother them with your troubles, and you hated it enough that you couldn’t hide it from Scott.

If you could just make them stop, then–

You gasp, feeling your body collide with another. You stumble back in response, nearly tripping over your own feet, but a pair of hands catch your arms. When you raise your head, you meet none other then Theo’s eyes.

Instantly, a smile falls on his face. “Y/N.”

Pulling your arms away from his grasp, you tuck back a strand of your hair, swallowing thickly. “Theo,” you call back in greeting, your voice regrettably shaky. “Sorry. I.. I didn’t mean to bump into you–”

“No worries,” Theo shrugs, waving off your apology. “I could see you had a lot on your mind.”

You chuckle lightly, “just…” You hesitate, biting your lip. “Just a bad night. Anyways, I should really–”

Theo steps into your path when you move to walk away, causing you to take one back in surprise. You blink up at him, lips parting but before you can speak, Theo does; “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, shaking your head. “Of course I am.”

“You just reek of anxiety,” Theo shrugs, his nose scrunching slightly. “Thought i’d make sure.”

“Oh,” you say slowly, licking your lips as your gaze lowers. “Like I said it was a bad night. But… thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” Theo smirks, and you’re not oblivious to the way Theo’s eyes wander across your figure. His stare is intense, almost as if he’s trying to study you and you feel a knot well in the pit of your stomach. “I thought i’d changed a lot since grade four.”

You raise a brow at his comment, raising your eyes to meet his gaze in question. “And that means?”

“Nothing bad,” Theo assures with a laugh, one you lightly mimic. “I only meant, you’re definitely not the pig-tail, braces wearing, shy girl I remember. You’re… different.”

Chuckling softly, you shrug; “like you said, grade four was a long time ago.”

“Fair enough.”

There’s a moment of silence before you speak once again. “Anyways, like I said,” your eyes dart past his shoulder, looking for an excuse. Your shoulders fall with relief when you see it. “There’s Stiles and I promised him we’d walk to class together, so I should probably…”

“Oh, yeah,” Theo nods, stepping out of your way. “Hopefully i’ll see you around?”

You smile softly back in his direction, offering a short nod as an answer before hastily making your way over to Stiles. Stiles had already been looking at you the second he noticed you were talking to Theo and by the expression on his face when you reach him, he seems anything but pleased. Falling to a stop in front of Stiles, you let out a sigh. “Look, I just ran into him, that’s all.”

Stiles blinks down at you; “I just don’t trust the guy.”

You turn back in the direction you came, watching as Theo heads towards the school. You don’t necessarily blame Stiles for being suspicious of the guy, there’s definitely something odd about him. But, at the same time, you don’t think you should just rule out the possibility that he could really mean no harm. I mean, it has been years since any of you saw him last. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t,” you assure Stiles, turning back to face him, “just why?”

Sighing, Stiles’ eyes narrow; “you remember Theo from fourth grade, right?”

Biting your lip, you nod.

“That’s not Theo.”

-

Your head lolls, your eyes grow heavy. You so badly want to sleep.

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Jumping, you gasp lightly, turning your head only to find Scott stood next to you. He looks worried and you can feel it deep in your own chest as he frowns down at you, biting his lip in worry. You let out a sigh, sighing as you shut your locker. “I’m fine, Scott.”

“I know you’re not,” Scott dismisses, blocking your path as you move to walk past him. Your eyes meet his along the way, shoulders falling as you reluctantly stay rooted in your spot. “Why bother lying?”

You let a hand rub across your face, licking your lips. “Because i’m not lying,” you deny, despite knowing very well that Scott can tell you are and that there’s no convincing him otherwise. You just want to ignore the conversation, because you already feel guilty enough with how much Scott has had to deal with you. But one look into his eyes and you know that, as you assumed, he isn’t buying it and he doesn’t plan to leave you alone until you just open up to him. And for some reason, anger wells within you and before you can stop yourself and think rationally, you blurt out; “i’m fine, okay? Just leave me alone.”

And Scott jerks his head back in surprise, lips parting as a wave of hurt flashes through his eyes. It almost instantly snaps you out of your revere and a frown falls on your lips, guilt flooding you.

“I didn’t mean to--”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head. Frowning, you glance up at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Scott. You’re right. I didn’t get any sleep last night, or any night before that.” Letting your shoulders slump, you glance down at your feet. “It’s just starting to get to me.”

“It’s fine,” Scott dismisses with ease, smiling reassuringly down at you. 

“But honestly, Scott,” you continue, glancing up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to always check in on me. It’s no different than before, these nightmares are just fleeting and before you know it, they’ll be gone.” Even though you say the words with hope and confidence, something tells you deep inside your gut that these nightmares aren’t as simple as you’re making them. As simple as they have been.

“What was is that you said?” Scott suddenly questions, pausing in thought, causing your brows to furrow up at him in confusion. “That we’ll always be there for each other?” Your lips part at his words, and Scott smiles faintly, letting his hand fall on your arm before squeezing it gently. “I’m always gonna be here for you. No matter what.”

And with that, your resolve falls. You step towards Scott, faintly smiling. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” Scott suddenly encourages, moving to stand next to you. “Malia and Kira are waiting for us in the library.”

-

You glance up when Stiles sets a piece of paper before you.

“So, you found something?”

“Another signature,” he nods, leaning over you slightly. “This is Theo’s dads signature on a speeding ticket from eight years ago.” Following where he points, you glance at the signature. “And this,” he turns to another paper, “is his dad’s signature on a transfer form to Beacon Hills High School from just a few days ago.”

Pursing her lips, Kira frowns; “how did you get his transfer form?”

“Did you break into the Administration Office?” Scott questions without hesitation.

Gasping, you turn to Stiles with a frown; “Stiles.”

“No, I did not break into the Administration Office,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. But, upon the looks everyone sends him, he huffs; “okay, I might have broken into the Administration Office. Can we just focus on the signatures, please?” Setting his hands on both pieces of paper, he lines them up next to each other. “They’re different.”

“They’re sort of different,” Malia corrects.

“They’re completely different,” Stiles exclaims, “come on. Look. The garlands don’t even match, the undulations of the sinuous strokes are totally off. And look, look, perfect example of the Criminal Tremor.”

Pausing, your furrow your brows.

“So now, Theo is Theo, but his parents aren’t his parents?” Kira questions.

“Someone’s not someone,” Stiles nods. “And when I figure out who that someone really is, someone’s in big trouble.”

“But no one’s done anything wrong,” Scott reminds.

“Yet. If Theo’s parents are both psychotic killers then obviously, we shouldn’t trust him, right?”

“My parents are Peter and the Desert Wolf,” Malia speaks up, causing you to turn to Stiles in question, who, upon Malia’s words, has froze in disbelief.

“Okay,” he sighs, rubbing his hand down his face in frustration. “It’s fine. You know what? I’ll just figure it out myself,” he huffs, grabbing his papers. “Right? I don’t need you or you or you.” You raise a brow when he turns to you, daring him to speak more. He just sighs, turning.

“I don’t need anyone.”

-

Not that much later, you find Stiles is in his jeep, with Liam.

“I thought you didn’t need anyone.”

Stiles jumps at your sudden voice, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “Y/N.”

You only roll your eyes, shaking your head at him before making your way to Liam’s side of the car. “Out,” you order, nodding your head to the back seat.

“But--”

“Out.”

With a huff and a whine, Liam crawls out of Stiles’ jeep with a pout on his lips, moving to the back. You smile at him sweetly as he does so, crawling into the passengers seat yourself, ignoring Stiles’ stare as you buckle yourself in. Then, when you’re situated, you turn expectantly to Stiles who continues to stare at you in surprise.

“Let’s go,” you speak, shaking your head.

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Liam speaks up, poking his head in between you and Stiles.

“You’re going to spy on Theo,” you say matter-of-factly, smirking at Liam before meeting Stiles’ gaze. “So, let’s go.”

Stiles’ eyes widen at your words and they flood with hope. “You believe me?”

“Of course I believe you.”

-

“I told you he was up to something.”

“We just spent three hours watching this dude play video games in his bedroom. He better be out here to cover up a mass murder.”

You smile at Liam’s words, shaking your head at him softly as you keep your gaze on Theo. But, you can’t help but briefly glance Stiles’ way, silently noticing the intensity of his stare and how tense his shoulders are. You frown softly. This was really bothering him.

“Let’s find out,” Stiles calls out, stepping around the bush. You and Liam are quick to follow him, letting Liam lead with his nose.

“Still got his scent?” You ask after a few minutes, coming up beside Liam.

“Don’t need it,” he shrugs, gesturing down to the footprints in the mud. As you continue to walk forward, you notice out of the corner of your eye Liam slow down, causing you to frown in response.

“What?” Stiles questions, turning back to him, “what’s wrong?”

Frowning, Liam glances behind himself. “I forgot, I was supposed to meet Mason at the school gym.”

“Okay,” you say softly, not oblivious to the distress in his tone. “Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Turning to Stiles, you shrug; “anything.”

Shaking his head, Liam scoffs; “I can’t just tell him anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t,” throwing his hands in the air in distress, Liam sighs. “I haven’t told him everything.”

“Still?” Stiles’s brow twitch in confusion, “we said it was okay.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not that easy.” Pausing, Liam stumbles over his words. “It’s a lot to accept.”

“He watched my dad blow up a Berserker with a land mine,” Stiles reminds, “I think the groundwork’s been pretty thoroughly laid for acceptance. Scott, Y/N,” Stiles tilts his head to you, causing Liam to turn to you as you smile encouragingly his way, “and I have been through this. Okay? More than once. It’s always better when they know.”

“Besides,” you speak up, “Mason’s your best friend, right?” Liam nods, “then he’ll understand. It’ll be okay.” With one last reassuring nod Liam’s way, you turn with Stiles, following slightly behind him. 

“But,” Liam suddenly calls, voice pitching. “What if he freaks out? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he tries to stab me with something silver? Or what if...” Liam’s words suddenly halt and there’s a loud thud that instantly causes you to pause in your step.

Your brows furrow in question, turning to Stiles briefly who meets your eyes before turning around. At first, the two of you are confused at the lack of Liam, but then you notice the hole in the ground and instantly you’re running forward. Your eyes widen in concern when you find Liam at the bottom of said hole.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Lips parting, you turn to Stiles with a glare, slapping him. “It’s not his fault, Stiles.”

“It’s just--” Stiles suddenly stops, looking past your shoulder which causes you to raise a brow. Before you can ask what’s going on, he grabs a hold of your wrist. “There he is,” Stiles whispers, turning back to Liam quickly. “Hurry up and stop screwing around.”

You move to hit your boyfriend again, but Stiles is already tugging you along to where he spotted Theo. You lean against the tree just as Stiles’ does, easily catching sight of Theo.

A minute later, Liam falls in the spot next to you.

“Try and get his scent,” Stiles orders with a whisper. “Get anything?”

As you turn to watch Theo, trying to figure out what he’s doing, you hear Liam whisper in response to Stiles’ question; “soap.” You blink, what? “It’s nice. It smells good.”

“Not his scent,” Stiles huffs, “his emotional state. Chemosignals, remember?”

“Oh,” Liam nods, “yeah. Okay.” Pausing a moment, you wait for Liam to answer. “I... He’s sad.”

Blinking, you turn to the younger boy. “He’s sad?”

“Well, not just sad...” Liam begins, “it’s more like grief.”

“Grief?”

Your eyes widen, realization flooding you when you see Theo slowly pick up out a flow from the bouquet in his hands, dropping it into the water below the bridge. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles suddenly squeaks, hastily turning and you’re quick to follow his lead, grabbing Liam by the shoulders and pulling him away. “We have to go. Come on.”

“What?” Liam exclaims, “why?”

“That’s the bridge where they found his sister,” you explain with a whisper, shaking your head.

“What sister?”

“The one that got lost and died from exposure,” Stiles answers for you, his voice considerably more panicked and pitched then your own. “He’s leaving a flower for her.”

“That doesn’t sound evil,” Liam concludes.

You shake your head as Stiles inhales sharply, “I know.”

“Um,” you suddenly mumble, having caught sight of something, or rather someone, above all three of you. “Guys.” Stiles and Liam look in the direction you point to, halting to a stop when they see Theo just like you have, watching as he jumps off the branch, landing on his feet before you.

Slowly, he rises, a smirk on his lips; “what are you guys doing?”

As soon as Theo takes a step forward, Liam steps in front of you protectively, growling. Instantly, you grab him by the shoulders, silently telling him to back down.

“Woah,” Theo chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “Why do I get the feeling this kid’s tougher than he looks?”

“Only when we let him off his leash,” Stiles subtly threatens.

“Stiles,” Theo calls, lowering his hands. “We were in Little League together. Why are you so suspicious of me?”

You raise your head to glance up at Stiles, watching as he pauses a moment before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the sheets of paper he’d shown you, Scott, Malia and Kira earlier. “Because of these,” he explains, handing them over to Theo who accepts them with a slight twitch of his brows.

As Theo unfolds the paper, Stiles continues; “one’s a speeding ticket signed by your dad eight years ago. The other’s one’s a signature on a transfer form to Beacon High. They’re different.”

“Huh,” Theo laughs lightly, “yeah, they do look a little different.”

“No, they’re totally different,” Stiles corrects, “signed by two different people.”

“So, my dad’s not my dad?” Theo questions, raising a brow. You frown at his response, suddenly weary of where this was all going. “Like he’s an impostor?”

“Yeah,” Liam nods instantly, once again taking a step forward and in front of you, squaring his shoulders. “Something like that.”

With a sigh, Theo folds the papers back up again; “who do you think I am?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Want me to give you a DNA sample or something?”

“No,” Stiles sighs, “I don’t have anything from the fourth grad to match it to.”

“Come on,” Theo laughs, trying to lighten the mood. You freeze when he turns to you, “Y/N, this is crazy. You have to know that.” As if on queue, Liam shuffles on his spot in front of you and Stiles shakes his head at Theo.

“She doesn’t have to know anything,” Stiles dismisses, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

Shoulders falling, the smile falls from Theo’s lips. “You know, Stiles, I came back here for Scott... but I also came back for you.” Your frown deepens at his words, eyes narrowing, similar to Stiles. “Someone like you. Someone who’s willing to walk into the woods in the middle of the night to protect his friends. I don’t have anyone like that, but Scott does.” Turning to Liam, Theo shrugs; “you all do. I know i’m in the right place. I’m meant to be here. I’m meant to be a part of this pack.”

-

“Find anything?”

You blink at the sound of Scott’s voice, finally raising your head as you glance up at your brother. He’s leaning against his bike which is parked next to Stiles’ jeep. 

At his question, Stiles inhales deeply, shaking his head, “nope.” He says simply before walking forward, opening up the door to his car and slipping inside. With a simple sigh yourself, you briefly nod Scott’s way as he makes his way to Stiles’ window, slipping into the passenger side yourself just as Liam calls out;

“I fell in a hole.”

His attempt at lightening the mood fails, and Scott only turns to Stiles; “it was the bridge where his sister died, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” Stiles sighs, “very embarrassing. So we are gonna leave now.” As he turns the keys to turn on the engine, it only sputters. Stiles’ face falls and he sighs, stopping. “Son of a... Liam,” he calls, moving to step out of the car. “Get in the car and turn the ignition when I say.”

As Scott and Stiles make their way to the front of Stiles’ jeep, pulling open the hood, Liam listens to Stiles’ instructions without fault, slipping into the car beside you.

A moment later, Stiles calls; “try it.” The engine only sputters in response.

Then, suddenly, without warning, a sharp pain radiates in your head. It causes you to gasp slightly in pain, not loud enough for Liam to really pay mind and as a conversation between Stiles and Scott progressively grows more tense, it seems to fade to the back of your mind as the pain becomes increasingly more and more unbearable.

You’re lost in your own head for the next few minutes, a tingling, unexplainable feeling washing over your entire body. It’s like this pounding in your head, one that repeats over and over again and it hurts so much your eyes clench shut tightly. Your hands reach for your head, practically digging your nails into your scalp, causing you to cry out in pain.

It’s then that Liam notices there’s something wrong, having been distracted by Scott’s and Stiles’ conversation before. His brows furrow at the sight of you curled into yourself, seething in agony. Not to mention, there’s a purple hue that surrounds you, almost as if some sort of protective barrier. He reaches out to touch you, though hesitant, his lips parting to call out for your name. You either don’t hear him or don’t respond and just as the tips of Liam’s hand reaches you, the loud bang from Stiles slamming his hand against his car causes him to pull back.

He pauses a moment, turning to the front in confusion and uncertainty, but he hears Scott ask Stiles if he’s okay and then offer to take his pain away, so Liam let’s his focus fall back on you.

“Y/N,” he calls once more, his voice soft and unsure but flooded with concern. “Are you--”

You suddenly turn, opening up the door to Stiles’ jeep and practically sprinting out. Liam’s lips part in response, watching as you sink to the ground, falling to your knees. Despite having already caught their attention, Liam calls out for Stiles and Scott, running out of the car himself and around, only to pause by you.

You don’t notice Liam, Stiles and Scott circled around you. A pit of heat starts to grow within you and you feel yourself shake, it slowly becoming increasingly worse and worse. You don’t hear them call out for you in worry, nor do you notice Stiles cry out in pain as he reaches out for you and the touch of you causes him to fly back, landing on the ground with a thud.

You’re unaware of all that surrounds you as the pit of heat grows hotter and hotter. You don’t notice the slight affect it has on Scott. You don’t understand what’s happening and it almost feels like your head becomes a jumbled mess as you begin to lose control of yourself.

What’s happening to me?

Then, suddenly and without warning, it feels like something clicks. Your lips part and a heart-wrenching scream tears through your lips. Your head tips back as you scream, your body tensing completely, every muscle becoming frozen in place.

When it finally stops, you slump forward, out of breath. Your surroundings slowly fade back in and as your eyes water, curling into yourself, it’s a moment later that Stiles, Scott and Liam feel it’s safe enough to step towards you. You don’t notice it until a hand falls on your back, causing you to flinch violently in response. You move to pull away from the touch, but pause when your eyes meet Stiles’.

“Hey, hey, Y/N... It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You fall back on your butt, glancing up at Stiles and then past him towards your brother and Liam. They stare down at your in concern and worry, and also confusion. But it’s the slight fear in their eyes that crushes you. The absolute uncertainty of what’s just happened. It breaks your heart.

A sob leaves your lips and you fall against Stiles without warning. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your head into the crook of his neck. And as you do so, Stiles glances back at Liam and Scott, silently asking the same question that was on all of their minds.

What was that?

But you already knew. Derek had warned you about it before he left.

You were losing control of your powers.

-

“Is she okay?”

Slowly, your eyes blink open at the sound of Noah’s voice. 

There’s a pause and you can feel both Stiles’ and Noah’s eyes on you as Stiles sighs. “I think so,” Stiles whispers, his voice unsure. “I mean, I hope so. I’ve... I don’t even know what happened.”

“Well, just let her sleep, Stiles. She seemed pretty upset when you brought her in.”

“I’m just worried about her.”

Once again, you let your eyes fall shut in shame.

“I know, son,” Noah whispers, and subtly, your grip tightened on Stiles’ pillow, your eyes watering. “Just don’t leave her side. She’s gonna need you when she wakes up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

-

Part 32?

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