#i am going to force her to watch all of the peanuts shorts with me

[hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend]

Madame Curator just informed me that she has never seen ANY Peanuts shorts. yes, this includes the masterpiece that is “The Great Pumpkin”

quite frankly i am shocked and appalled at this revelation

[m0nsterqzzz]

You Drew Stars Around my Scars (Katniss Everdeen x female reader)

summary: you know Katniss struggles to look at the scars she has when she comes home after the games, so you do something to make them a bit more easy to see.

warnings: talks of scars, the games?, gale 🤮 is mentioned at least once

a/n: I was literally so scared to post this but I just reminded myself that this is for fun and anyone who wants to say anything needs to remember that too. I will gladly accept kind criticism but I will not accept crap from strangers. I know it's really short but I wanted to post one of my katniss ones cuz im currently obsessed with the hunger games books. enjoy :) ♡

Katniss lies asleep in bed, unaware that you- her girlfriend- is now getting up and getting ready to go visit your family in the village for a bit. 

You get dressed, and then look at the clock on the wall and decide you have a bit of time to sit back down and read until you have to be on your way. You pick up your recent favorite book on your nightstand and begin reading, but something catches your eye. On Katniss' arm is a long healed scar from her days in the arena. They are all over her upper and lower body, as the capitol didn’t care to get rid of any that were not visible, and it brought tears to your eyes the first time you saw them when she came home.

Of course you knew she had them. In fact, you were forced to watch how she got them during the games. But nothing could have prepared you to see her standing in front of your guys bathroom mirror naked, eyes scanning over her body but still holding the same dead look they had for the few weeks before this. She hadn’t seen you in the mirror but turned around when she heard a gasp, still on alert after everything she went through. You didn’t say anything else about the healed wounds, but you did pull her into a tight hug as if she would leave once again if you even dared to loosen your grip.

You gently trace the scar, making sure she's still asleep as you grab a pen from the nightstand. You do your best to be quiet as you reposition on the bed and begin drawing lightly on her skin.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

About an hour later, Katniss wakes up to the sunlight peaking through the window and onto her face. She opens and then closes her eyes, moving to feel on your side of the bed, only to find cold sheets. 

Her eyes snap open, scanning the room and yelling out your name as millions of possibilities run through her head. The only thing that stops her from grabbing her bow -which now stays underneath the bed at all times- is the little note taped to her stomach. 

Dear my love,

I did not wish to wake you from your sleep as you looked very peaceful. I am off to visit my family in the village and will be back in a few hours. I love you, and take care of yourself.

With much love, 

your girlfriend.

She smiles a bit, but sighs at the thought of you not being here to hold her this morning. She forces herself out of bed with the promise she would take care of herself as you wish, and goes downstairs to make herself some breakfast.

Prim is downstairs at the table, peanut butter sandwich in hand and staring at the book in front of her. She doesn't look up until Katniss speaks. “Morning Prim.” Even then, all she does is send her a small nod and smile. “Oh! your girlfriend wanted me to tell you that she left if you didn't see the note.” Prim says.

You and Katniss began dating when you were 15, and even then you had been friends long before that. You watched Prim grow up and did the best that you could with your equally poor family to help the little girl survive. You and her mother were the only things she had when Katniss volunteered as tribute, and you spent nights stroking her hair as the young girl cried out that it was her fault. You would never tell Katniss this, out of respect for Prim, and the brunette could definitely tell you and her little sister were closer than ever when she came home.

“What's that on your arm?” Prim asks, pointing to the scar on her older sister's belief. Katniss doesn't look, knowing already that there is a large scar there which can usually be covered by her shirt sleeves. “My scar. You know this.” She sighs, reaching up to the top cabinet. Her shirt sleeve goes down a little in the process, and its only then does she realize what her sister is talking about.

All around her scar, are little stars of all shapes and sizes, some colored in, some hearts laying around. She takes a moment to look at it, before she lifts up her shirt to reveal the same thing down to a smaller scar on her side. She lifts up the right leg of her pajama pants, and sure enough, more little drawings along the entirety of her burn scar.

A small giggle leaves her, and it turns into a genuine laugh as she gently traces over the drawings. She turns to Prim, who also has a small smile on her face as she looks at her sister's genuine happiness. It hasn't happened very many times in the past few weeks, and it brings a bright smile to Prim's face at the sight of her genuinely happy sister.

You walk in right at that moment, and Katniss practically leaps into your arms. You stumble at first, but catch her nonetheless and hold her to you tightly. “I missed you.” “I missed you too darling.” Your words make Prim fake gag as she finishes up her sandwich and leaves the kitchen.

The hunter leans back a bit to place a small kiss on her lips, though you have to break away when she is smiling to much to continue. “Katniss Everdeen. What did you do?” You fake gasp. “Did you kill Gale?” She chuckles, rolling her eyes and kissing your forehead with the simple words. “You drew stars around my scars.” You nod in agreement.

 “This is why I love you.” Her words bring a shock to you, having never heard them uttered from that girl to you before. She continues, “I love you so fucking much. You are my whole world and being in that arena……it just proved it.” 

You take a moment to remember how to breathe before quietly telling her as if its a secret only she can know, “I love you to Katniss Everdeen. I love you more than I love anything, actually.” 

Katniss Everdeen is the girl of your dreams. You may not have known it when you were seven and she placed a kiss on your cheek and you blushed beet red, or when you were twelve and she held your hand the entire school day, but you did know it when you were 15, and she brought over what was left of her families' dinner to feed your dying mother. You did know it when you were 16, and Katniss yelled out, “I volunteer as tribute!”. and you knew it when she crashed into your arms two months after that. And you know it now. Part of you has always known you love Katniss. And now you'll spend the rest of your life proving it.

[k3rm1e]

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

accomplishments

heyo!! i was wondering if you would mind writing hc’s for a reader who just had a major accomplishment but their parents don’t really congratulate them or anything, and then philza celebrates with them instead and tells reader how proud he is. i kinda want some dadza comfort rn :’) anyway, thank you sm!! have a great day <3

hello anon! i’m sorry i took a while to answer this. i went a bit off track with this and got A LOT more angsty, so i’m really sorry about that. If you want me to make a much more fluffier or mellowed-out version, i’d be happy to. please, read the trigger warnings before reading this.

i don’t plan on writing more angst-y things like this, especially not this angsty, so don’t worry. once again, please, if you would like me to rewrite this into a less emotional version i’d be happy to

cw: swearing

tw: talk of god and the church, slight manipulation, repetition of words

accomplishments:

  holy shit. you were in disbelief. a state of shock. one million twitch followers. one. million. followers. you were silent. shock can have many effects on a person. some scream and laugh out of joy, or a misplaced sense of mania. others cry, because they cannot handle it. some remain confused, because their brains are unable to conceptualize the event. you were silent.

  what should you do? would a “thank you” tweet be good enough or would it come off as insincere? should you wait to stream? or would that make people feel you didn’t care because you took so long? through the anxiety you could feel the true realization that you now had one million followers. like a truck, you were hit with the most excited feeling ever. getting up, you jumped around your room. you spun and jumped and cheered and whooped and yelled and smiled and danced and were overflowing with joy, with the acknowledgement that you had done it, you had really fucking done it. 

  opening the window above your desk, without a single fuck, you screamed. “WHOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!” let’s just hope your neighbors don’t wake up.

  you stayed up all night, celebrating. tweeting out a thank you, you received congratulations from your fans and friends while you talked with the people in your discord vcs.

  in the morning, your mother and father had woken up. with a newfound determination, you ran downstairs. streaming was your passion and you wanted to tell the world what you had done. but, because of limitations, your mother was your metaphorical world.

  “mom! mom! mom! mother, mother, mumther!!” you shouted, dashing down the stairs, tripping over your feet. stupid wood flooring and slidy socks.

  from your place at the bottom of the stairs, you heard her sigh, “yes, sweetie?”

  you bounded over to her, setting your arms on the kitchen counter. from the hallway you could see your dad, who was sitting on the couch drinking his sunday morning coffee. “mom! guess what?” without giving her time to respond, you shouted, “i hit one million follows on twitch! one freaking million!”.

  your mother didn’t seem as enthusiastic as you. “is that why you were causing such a ruckus last night? and, watch your mouth, even though ‘freaking’ isn’t a ‘true’ curse, i don’t want you swearing. especially not on the lord’s day. i couldn’t fathom going to church everyday, only to allow you to have a mouth like that.” she continued to stare at her work papers.

  “oh, uh, okay mother. dad? did you hear me? i hit one million on twitch.” you awkwardly turned your head over to your father.

  “she’s right, you know that, don’t you sweetie?” your father stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. “language like that, it’s shameful. surely, we don’t need you to have a private session with father paulson, do we?” your dad stood next to your mother, rubbing her back as he stared at you.

  “no, no, of course not. um, i’m gonna go upstairs now.” you turned around, wishing you could simply disappear.

  “without breakfast? are you truly that upset with us? we can’t have you ending up like those people, committing sinful acts and going to hell. god would never forgive you. we’re already taking a risk allowing you to stream, putting yourself out there.”

  both your mother and father stared at you. your blood felt like ice in your veins. the white walls of your house seemed so much brighter, yet duller at the same time. everything felt a white-pure-pink-orange. your breathing got uneasy. choppy. in, out, out, in, in, in, out, in, in, out, out for different increments of time. 5, 3, 2, 7, 10, 9, 6, 4, 1, 6, 8, seconds, over and over and over.

  “we just wanna protect you, dear. we love you, don’t you get that?” your mother stared at you.

  you felt like a scene in those movies. the ones that directly cater to teens who thought their lives were shit when in reality they just hadn’t grown up enough to make sense of something yet. were you one of those teens? or is this actually wrong. you don’t think it is, but you don’t talk to others about this. family matters stay in the family was a common phrase repeated in your household. the church was family, they could know. your mother and father, they could know. others, they must not know, never know.

  “of course, mother, father.” you wanted to force yourself to speak, but syllables were incapable of getting past your lips. your mouth was full of peanut butter from the sandwiches served in your elementary school cafeteria. but, the partly frozen chocolate milk always washed it down. “of course. i love you guys too. love you.” you smiled, a disgusting smile that felt violating to exist on your face, violating, violating, violating.

  you dashed up the stairs, to your room, up, up, up. running in, you wanted to slam the door, scream out the window, puch your pillow, smash your pc, cry, whatever you could do to get out your emotions. but instead, you lightly shut your door and slowly walked over to your desk chair to see who was online. you would go live later. it was only 5 AM, after all. they could wait. at least, you hoped they could.

  opening discord, just to see what everyone was doing, you saw philza minecraft was online. you went over and messaged him, ‘phil. philza. philza minecraft. vc please?’ in response, you received a short, ‘sure m8, gimme a minute’ you waited, until you heard the noise confirming he had joined.

  “good morning phil.” your energy from before had receded back into the confines of your chest. the prior excitement was gone and replaced with a feeling of fatigue.

  “morning mate, how are you? congrats on the one mill!” phil sounded excited, happy for you. you smiled, chuckling a bit.

  “i’m alright man, just tired. how are you? and, thanks for the congrats.” you smiled, feeling the fatigue set in.

  “i’m good. but you, you don’t sound very good. couldn’t sleep, could ya’? that was how i was when i hit one mill. way too excited to sleep.”

  “yeah. yeah, i’m just tired.” you were getting a bit too tired to talk. the day had barely started, and yet the full-body emotional exhaustion had set.

  “‘just tired’? the hell happened kid?” phil’s voice sounded concerned. fuck. the last thing you wanted to do was worry him. he had his own life and you had already caused enough trouble today.

  “it’s nothing big phil, seriously. just my parents.” there, a slight bit of information. family matters still within the family, just a few words.

  “they being shitbirds? or are you lying, and something big did happen?” he was being inquisitive, which was dangerous. questions were dangerous.

  “no, why would i lie?” his inquisitiveness would continue, you knew. so you spilled the metaphorical beans. “they just, just weren’t as supportive as i’d wished they were when i told them. i was really psyched, y’know? and them, just sort of, not giving a shit? i don’t know man, it just feels bad.”

  “i get you. it’s shit, when people don’t care about your accomplishments. my parents never really saw streaming as a true profession in the beginning, which led to shit like you describing. i promise it gets better though, even if it feels like shit now. and, for what it’s worth, i’m proud of you.”

  “it’s fine phil, you don’t need to try to make me feel better. i’m okay, seriously.” you didn’t need or want his pity. accepting it would feel patronizing.

  “no, you need to understand that i’m not fucking around. one million is a big fuckin’ thing, especially for you who hasn’t been streaming all that long to achieve. it’s fucking amazing, mate. be proud of yourself, for christ’s sake.” his fake anger chimed through your headphones. even though you were being berated, you still felt better.

  “thank you, phil. i needed that.”

  “your welcome, mate. and look, anytime your parents are being shit, don’t try to hold it all in. call me, or wil, or someone, okay? don’t hold that shit in.”

  you fake sighed, just to piss him off. “okayyyyyy….”

  “good. now, go take a nap or some shit. i love you, kid.”

  “love you too, dadza.” this time, your words didn’t feel forced. the smile on your face wasn’t violating, but an invitation to better times. it would be alright. okay.

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Day 2: Relationships / Matching

*Introducing the Perfect Pair Collection, featuring asymmetrical designs that match.* The oxymoron was not lost on her.

Time to switch to a completely different art style on day 2– 😣 Today’s prompt features the Pomefiore trio!

A harsh tug on his sleeve drew Jade to a halt. He glanced at Miss Raven, who clung to his side, pointing to a nearby shop window with her free hand. Jade followed her finger to what was on display—small boxes and racks, each displaying a glittering piece of jewelry.

“Oya, I do not believe we have baubles on the grocery list,” he tutted, teasingly wagging a finger. “To think that your interest would be so easily captured by mere shiny objects, Miss Raven... Corvids truly are simple-minded creatures. Perhaps you have more in common with the headmaster than I had initially thought.”

“I’m allowed to appreciate beauty, aren’t I?” Raven retorted, casting Jade a sideways glare. “Besides, you wear jewelry.”

“Ah, this?” He gently tapped at the earring dangling from his left earlobe. Three diamond-shaped scales cast a silvery-blue glow upon his skin. “I wouldn’t call it a piece of jewelry so much as a battle trophy.”

At this, Raven wrenched her face away from the glass display to stare at him. “Please don’t tell me you did something unsavory to get your hands on it.”

“You have such strange ideas, Miss Raven.” Jade chuckled as he slicked back his black stripe of hair behind his accessory-clad ear. “Fufu. There is nothing unsavory about victors claiming a prize for their triumph, correct? That is only the natural order of things.”

… I feel sorry for whoever the twins beat up.

She shook her head and returned her gaze to the display window--to the selection of earrings that were laid out upon velvet cloth. Introducing the Perfect Pair Collection, read a sign, featuring asymmetrical designs that match. (The oxymoron was not lost on her.)

Surrounding the sign were various pairs, as promised: a sun and a moon, a jar of jelly and another of peanut butter, a hand and a heart… but Raven felt herself drawn to earrings in the shape of a lock and a key. How peculiar that the head of the key curved into a heart and that its teeth were ribbed with pearls, and how slim yet stylish the lock was.

“My, are you interested in that pair? What an interesting choice.”

“N-No! I’m just admiring them,” Raven insisted. “You don’t normally see designs like this… I wonder how the jeweler was able to make objects so clunky and heavy into something wearable.”

“That is a fair point. The craftsmanship is indeed exquisite.” Jade’s sharp eyes carefully traced the shape of Raven’s ears--pointed, like the headmaster’s. “How unfortunate it is that you lack the piercings to wear them.”

Raven’s hands instinctively flew to her earlobes, as though trying to shield them from him. “I told you, I’m not interested in buying--” 

“Why, whoever said anything about you purchasing the earrings? I was keen to pick up a new pair for myself.” Jade provided a smile and a bow. “Now then, if you would excuse me for one moment…”

Before Raven could protest, he had already vanished inside the jewelry store, leaving her stranded on the street with a list of groceries to procure.

“... Fantastic.”

The bird sighed into her palms. From past experience, she knew that it would not be a wise idea to pursue Jade and attempt to drag him away. For as skilled as Raven was at weaving words, she often found that Jade’s natural charisma, paired with his silver tongue, often gave him the advantage in disagreements.

Best to just leave it for now.

Still, she warily eyed him through the store window as he conversed with a clerk. A few vague hand gestures, a practiced smile, a polite and controlled laugh. All motions Raven had familiarized herself with.

Entranced with her eel watching, Raven didn’t register the trio approaching her until one of the group called out to her.

“Mon petit oiseau! What a coincidence it is to be running into you today.”

“Oh!” She startled at the huntsman’s voice. “Rook…!! And… Vil-senpai and Epel-san. Hello…!”

Acutely aware of Vil’s sternness, Raven quickly lowered her head in deference. This earned a slight curl of the lips from him.

He was dressed as fashionably as ever--a white, frilly top with a V-neck, paired with sunglasses propped in his hair, sleek leggings, and glove boots. Several necklaces adorned Vil’s long, milky neck, and his face was expertly painted with a sheer wash of shimmering, nude makeup.

“Good day to you, Shetland potato,” Vil replied coolly. He passed a glance to Epel, who stood behind him, struggling to carry several rolls of fabric.

“G-Good day,” Epel managed, tugging at his collar. It appeared as though Vil had dressed him, too--for he was dressed in a lacey lilac blouse, and tied off with a black bow. Instead of leggings, Epel wore puffy shorts and striped socks.

“Such a treat it is to see you out of the attic and venturing out into the world!” Rook laughed, brushing back a wisp of his golden hair. He was without his trademark feathered hat, and had traded his dormitory robes for a button-down shirt--the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone, army green khakis, and boating shoes.

Compared to the Pomefiore trio, Raven looked like a spaghetti stain on a square of white fabric. She nervously dusted off her skirt, hoping that Vil wouldn’t harp on how she was wearing the same outfit yet again.

“What brings you to town?” Rook inquired, dropping the bags he had been carrying and excitedly grasping Raven’s hands instead.

“Just… groceries. Uncle is away for a conference, so I am to fend for myself in his absence,” she mumbled, gingerly prying her hands away. “Well… sort of. Jade has been mother henning me for the past few days.”

“Monsieur Mastermind? Ohoh. What a dynamic duo! Two halves of the same coin, trading bitter blows with their words… forever locked in verbal combat!”

“I… I guess?”

“I trust that he is looking after you well?” Rook’s smile widened. “If not... perhaps we should kidnap you away and stow you in Pomefiore until the headmaster’s return!”

“Absolutely not,” Vil snapped. “We have our hands far too full with play preparations to be hosting the Shetland potato--or anyone else, for that matter.”

… H-He didn’t object to Rook kidnapping people. Is that a normal thing for Rook to do? Should I be concerned? She shoved her question down to change the subject to something more comfortable. “Erm… Is that what the supplies are for?”

“Oui! Roi du Poison’s club is staging a performance in the winter. These materials are to make costumes.” The huntsman’s eyes suddenly lit up with a mischievous sparkle. “Fufu. Mon roi has thrown his heart and soul into direction. It is a treat to behold!”

“Congratulations, senpai.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” Vil commanded, holding up a hand. “We are still in the throes of auditions. Wait until you have witnessed the show for yourself before you cheer for it.”

“Oh, well… I hope you find suitable actors, then.”

Vil’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Hm. Now that you mention it… Shetland potato!”

Raven jumped when he barked at her. “Y-Yes?! Look, I know I’ve been wearing the same outfit every time you see me, it’s just that Uncle fills my closet with nothing but duplicate clothes…!!”

“I think you would be fitting for one of the roles in my play,” Vil declared. “Report to Pomefiore at 8 am sharp tomorrow if you are interested in auditioning.”

“Huh?! Me, in one of your… I don’t think I’m…”

“Are you doubting my eyes?” His glare sharpened, turning into a pointed dagger.

“N-No, sir…”

“Good. Then I hope to see you then.” Vil spun around on his heel and waved a hand. “Rook! Epel! We’re going. Don’t dawdle, now.”

“Yes, Vil-senpai. I-I’m coming!”

Epel dashed after his Dorm Leader, Rook following suit--but not before he gave Raven one last glance over his shoulder, accompanied by a wave. Au revoir, he mouthed, the twinkle never parting from his emerald eyes.

She waved back absentmindedly, brought back from her daze only by the ringing of the jewelry store door swinging open again.

Jade emerged from within, bearing a small baby blue box with a white silk bow. “I have returned, Miss Raven. Fufu. I trust that you were not too lonely without me?”

She hastily hid her hands behind her back. “Of course not. You were only gone for a few minutes…!”

“So I was.” Jade’s eyes darted to the Pomefiore trio, whose figures were vanishing over the horizon. “Had I been absent a few moments longer, perhaps I would have had to wrangle you from the hands of an nosy huntsman.”

“As though forcing your way in and kidnapping me back would be any better!”

Jade stifled a laugh.

“In any case, I have procured the earrings I had my heart set on.” With deft fingers, he slid off the top, revealing a glittering lock and key tucked away inside. Jade plucked up the key by the head. “Miss Raven, do lend me your ear.”

“Those are yours…!”

“Correct--and therefore, I may do with these as I please.” He smiled pleasantly. “And I choose to lend you one to wear.”

“It’s not that simple! Have you forgotten already? I can’t wear it--don’t have piercings,” she protested. “You’re not going to jab it through my earlobes, are you?!”

“I will do no such thing.” Jade’s voice remained tranquil as he seized the raven by her chin and jerked her head to one side, yielding a clear opening for him to plant the earring. She squawked in surprise, flailing against him--but his grip was too strong, and she, too weak.

He sighed, continuing to speak as though he were describing the nice weather. “I assure you, this will not hurt one bit, fufufu. Now be a dear and hold still.”

It happened in an instant, despite the bird’s struggles. A slight pinch upon her earlobe, the kiss of the cool metal key on her skin, and it was over.

Jade straightened with a satisfied smirk, and patted Raven on the cheek. “There we are.”

“Eh? What? How did…” She cautiously poked at the earring. “There wasn’t a needle…?”

“I requested that the jeweler convert the key earring into a clip-on.”

“Wha…?! You… You tricked me again?!” Her face flared with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. “But why even bother with such a thing?”

“I wished to see how it would look on you. As I suspected, it is lovely on you.”

Raven gritted her teeth, praying that it would somehow help hide her flusteredness. “... And what do you plan to do with the lock earring? You didn’t also have that one converted, did you?”

“Certainly not.” Jade toyed with the lock in question, rolling it between his index finger and thumb. “I was thinking to wear it myself in lieu of my usual sturgeon scale earring, so that we may match.”

“Match?” Raven scoffed through her blush. “I didn’t know you cared so much about your accessories while grocery shopping.”

“I do not,” he confessed with a coy grin. “However, I would be remiss to pass up an opportunity to show to the world what a perfect pair we make.”

“You what--” Raven was interrupted by Jade grasping one of her hands and placing the lock earring into it.

“If you would do the honors,” he murmured, tilting his head to one side--and once more, slicking his black hair back. His tone was low and inviting, yet somehow she could hear him well and clear over the townspeople that bustled around them.

The scales suspended on his earring swung back and forth in a slow motion. Click, clack, against one another, in an almost hypnotic fashion.

His single, golden eye stared right at her. Waiting, pleading.

Raven swallowed hard. With trembling hands, she unfastened the sturgeon scale earring from his earlobe and secured the lock earring in its place. As soon as the deed was done, she rushed to wipe her hands off on her skirt.

Eel cooties, eel cooties, eel cooties…!!

“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Raven.”

“You’re… you’re welcome.” She pursed her lips, avoiding his eyes--but her traitorous gaze soon found itself lingering on the lock. “That suits you, in a way--like a lock, you guard many secrets, and it’s impossible to get you to open up.”

“Fufu. I am flattered to hear such kind words. If I may return the compliment, that key earring fits you like a glove.”

“Right. Because Uncle is adorned in keys, it would make sense for the motif to carry over to his relatives.”

“No, no, you misunderstand.” Jade held a finger to his lips, a twinkle of conspiracy in his golden eyes. “Come closer… and I shall impart one of my closely guarded secrets to you.”

“This isn’t another one of your tricks, is it?” she asked, her eyes forming suspicious slivers--but despite her curt words, the bird’s body instinctively leaned into his. She cursed her curiosity.

Jade chuckled and bent down, allowing his lips to hover by her ear. Time seemed to slow, but her heartbeat quickened. Face, hot--extremities, cold. Opposites, yet matching. One, unable to exist without the other.

And, at last, his answer came.

“It suits you well--for you hold the key to my heart, Miss Raven.”

[piratewithvigor]

Eldritch Horrors Anonymous: A Wrestler Fic

Dr. Shelby's led plenty of support groups before and helped plenty of people in them. But these people aren't exactly people...

(I spent the last two days binging matches and assorted other videos to try and get the characterizations right, so let's see how this goes)

Plenty of bad crack below

When Dr. Shelby had been approached with the idea of running this group, he’d been… unsure. Possibly even apprehensive. He’d led groups for violent individuals before; anger management was the most memorable, but the coordinator nearly begged him to start this one. She’d had some of these individuals in other groups, but none of their problems truly seemed to stem from the focus of the groups they tried. They had a unique problem. A unique struggle that needed support from others just like them.

It was the night of the first meeting and he wasn’t quite sure what the outcome might be. The community center had been advertising it for the last few weeks and he’d heard about some interested parties, but the exact number was a little unsure. He’d been told a ‘handful’, which wasn’t frustrating as an imprecise number until it came time to set up the chairs in the room. Six seemed like a good number. A couple, but not too many. Colder drinks were set out on a table along the edge of the room. Nothing too hot. A lot of those coming had problems with heat. As well as with machinery. Some of them had habits with… well, with making it explode.

God, he hoped nothing exploded during this meeting.

The flyer stapled to the bulletin board said the meeting started at 6 and it was 5:55 when Dr. Shelby sat down in his chair opposite the semi-circle. The noticeably empty semi-circle. A part of him was disheartened that the room was empty, but a much more selfish part was deeply relieved. He’d spent a few days reading articles about these individuals and how best to help them. Unfortunately, not much research had been done besides describing the pain they inflicted in such gruesome detail that Dr. Shelby had felt the need to make himself a cup of tea.

But those were laboratory settings. This was a friendly support group. No one was being forced to be there, or even being paid. They were coming because they wanted to.

By 6:03, he was tempted to just start packing up. Maybe no one was coming. Maybe the group was a bad idea in the first place. He’d been told to wait until 6:05 for people to arrive, but even just two more minutes seemed like too many to just sit there.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the large metal door on the other side of the room creaking open slowly. A hand gloved in black leather wrapped around and Dr. Shelby tensed for a moment until the owner of the hand appeared. A pleasantly-dressed gentleman in a neat sweater, a short beard and his hair pulled back looked around the room before spotting Dr. Shelby and seeming to relax.

“Excuse me, is this Eldritch Horrors Anonymous?” He asked, smiling warmly.

“Uh, it’s supposed to be,” Dr. Shelby nodded. If anyone had shown up, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue back.

The man’s smile widened and he turned back from the room to call over his shoulder. “Found it, guys! We’re supposed to be in here!”

Guys? There were more?

Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a bust after all.

The man stepped inside the room and pulled open the door politely. Dr. Shelby couldn’t see the people until they entered, but it didn’t truly matter; no amount of time could have prepared him for the group joining him.

The first one to nearly skip through the door looked like a child at first glance. Definitely not an eldritch horror. She wasn’t much taller than one and with her long blonde hair pulled into pigtails and a doll clutched to her chest, she looked even more like one. She paused long enough to thank the man holding open the door before taking a seat in the middle chair of the semi-circle, directly across from Dr. Shelby. It wasn’t until she was fully seated that he got a proper look at her face. Her strikingly icy eyes were surrounded by thick black rings and every time the hairs in front of her face moved, Dr. Shelby swore he saw black liquid dripping from her scalp. The chill that went down his spine was either negated or enhanced by her wide, jubilant grin. He wasn’t sure which.

The man who sat beside her also seemed confusingly normal at first glance. A plain black t-shirt and leather jacket. Perhaps a little more… edgy than Dr. Shelby would have preferred to dress, but he seemed like an equally charming young man.

Unfortunately, a pattern of three seemingly normal people did not necessarily mean the group would be.

The next one to enter the room had to quite literally duck to pass through the door. Dr. Shelby guessed him to be seven feet tall, give or take a few inches. He was wearing a black suit that covered most of his body, save for his face, which had its own covering of a deep red mask. He didn’t smile like the others had so far. Not even a polite half-smile of acknowledgment. Just sat down in one of the chairs that looked like it might prove to be a little too small.

Dr. Shelby had been so focused on keeping his expression steady while watching the masked member of the group that he hadn’t noticed one final member sneak in through the door and sit on the other side of the circle. He had an oversized alarm clock clutched in one hand, a paper bag in the other and a steady, intense smile in Dr. Shelby’s direction. Though his face was just as covered in red, he seemed to be the exact opposite of the stoic masked member.

“I think that’s everyone,” the man holding the door declared, taking one last glance down the hall before starting to let it go. He was intercepted by a gloved hand pushing back against the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” A final member slid in, face covered in white and black paint and a long leather coat stretching to his ankles. “All the hallways here look the same.”

“We had that problem too,” the man holding open the door nodded. “Kept walking around in circles trying to find the room. And it didn’t get much easier after the flyer got a hole burnt through it right where the room number was listed.”

“I said I was sorry,” the masked member grumbled.

Oh God, he burnt things unintentionally?

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all on time,” Dr. Shelby interjected, hoping to avoid any conflict between the members before the meeting had even technically started.

The final two men took their seats. Six? Not a bad turnout. Might as well get started.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Dr. Shelby.” A collection of polite nods came his way. “Now, you’re all here because you face the same struggle every day and you wanted to meet people like you. Am I right so far?” Everyone nodded again. “Good. I’ve led a lot of support groups just like these and almost everyone in them has felt major improvements knowing that they have a safe place to share their feelings every week. Why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and share what brings us here?”

It was always a risky move. Especially with brand-new groups. Some of them were bound to be a little more shy or wouldn’t really want to participate until they felt more comfortable with the other members. Dr. Shelby hoped there would at least be one outgoing one amongst them.

Dr. Shelby knew he wasn’t masking his fear very well. He’d perfected the perpetual smile; it was necessary when leading support groups, but he couldn’t always control his eyes.

The group all looked amongst themselves before the man in the sweater held up his hand.

“I can get the ball rolling,” he smiled, standing up. “My name is Bray and for the last few months, my body gets periodically taken over by my dark half named The Fiend, an entity whose sole objective is to cause as much pain and suffering to those around him as physically possible.”

“Thank you, Bray,” he tried to say with as even a voice as possible. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” the girl smiled, standing up with a flounce. “My name’s Alexa and this is Lilly.” She spun the doll around to reveal the most grotesque face Dr. Shelby had ever seen. He wasn’t certain from across the circle, but it looked like the teeth sewn into the mouth were real. “The Fiend showed me the way into the darkness, and Lilly took it from there.”

This is normal for them. It’s not going to help anyone here if you start looking like you’re scared.

But darn, is that doll ever creepy.

The man with the red face paint stood up next.

“I’m the Boogeyman!” He grinned with wide eyes, looking around at each member of the circle erratically. It was only as he began to move around that Dr. Shelby noticed the paper bag he was clutching seemed to be dripping some kind of dark liquid.

“Thank you for introducing yourself… Boogeyman. If it’s not too personal, do you mind if I ask what’s in your bag there?”

“Worms.”

“Worms?”

Boogeyman unrolled the bag and pulled out a handful of dirt-covered, very much alive earthworms before shoving said handful into his mouth. No one around the circle seemed all that disgusted. Like it was a regular Tuesday evening for them. Except for the man with the white face paint who seemed like he was as pale as a ghost underneath.

“I’ll, uh, that’s fine for this week, Boogeyman, but I’ll please ask you to leave your… worms at home next week. We’re not really supposed to have food in this room to keep it peanut-free,” Dr. Shelby explained, holding back the sick feeling knotting his stomach. “But if anyone is thirsty, I’ve got bottles of water and juice boxes on the back table. Feel free to help yourselves.”

Boogeyman nodded and carefully put his worms back into his bag as he sat down. The man with the white face paint immediately raised his hand.

“Yes, your name is…”

“I think I might be in the wrong place.”

Dr. Shelby looked him over. He didn’t look eerily normal like Bray, and he didn’t seem to have brought a bag of worms as a snack. Looked like he fell somewhere in between.

“You seem like you’re in the right place. This is Eldritch Horrors Anonymous; I don’t know where else you’d be tonight.”

The man’s expression changed from nerves to sheepish understanding. “I thought this was Troubled Goths Anonymous. I couldn’t find the flyer and followed Boogeyman in. My mistake.”

Dr. Shelby nodded understandingly. “Right room, wrong day. Troubled Goths Anonymous is Monday nights.”

The man stood to leave with his hands up apologetically. “It was great to meet you all, but I don’t belong here. Best of luck to you… eldritch horrors.”

“Oh, be careful when you come back on Monday. That’s also when they host Troubled Punks Anonymous. Very similar groups, but people seem to have very strong preferences of one over the other.”

The man nodded and left the room as Dr. Shelby turned back to the remaining members. “Some of you came here from those groups, right?”

“Troubled Punks Anonymous kicked me out a few days ago,” Bray sighed, his perpetual smile dropping for a moment. Everyone murmured their sympathy and Alexa patted him on the knee. “It’s alright, though," he continued. "You all seem like a much better fit so far.”

“That’s the point of this group,” Dr. Shelby smiled. “Now who’s next?”

The man in the leather jacket looked towards the man in the mask before shrugging and standing.

“M’name’s Finn. Sometimes the rage o’ battle brings out the Demon King Bálor from within me ‘n with the openin’ o’ his great eye, enemies are laid to waste a’ his feet,” he explained, about as casually as one would talk about what they did over the weekend.

“Glad to have you here, Finn.” It was getting easier to digest the stories of the people around him as he heard more. Maybe he’d even be able to hear the last one without faking the comfort of his smile. “And last, but certainly not least…” He turned towards the masked man expectedly. There was no smile, polite or otherwise. But he also didn’t seem like he was hesitating because he was shy. Just… grumpy.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself if you don’t feel comfortable, but we’re still a small group and as far as I can tell, all very friendly,” Dr. Shelby pushed a little further. The other members nodded in agreement. Even Boogeyman, who had snuck another worm from his bag into his mouth.

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’m Kane. I’m the devil’s favorite demon. I grew up in a basement, suffering severe psychological and emotional scarring when my brother set my parents on fire. From there, I shifted around a series of mental institutions until I was grown, at which point I buried my brother alive... twice. Since then, I’ve set a couple of people on fire and abducted various co-workers. Oh, and I once electrocuted a man’s testicles. Years ago, I had a girlfriend named Katie, but let’s just say that didn’t turn out so well. My real father is a man named Paul Bearer who I recently trapped in a meat locker. I’ve been married, divorced, broke up my ex wife’s wedding and attacked the priest and for reasons never quite explained, I have an unhealthy obsession with torturing Pete Rose.”

Okay, maybe they can get weirder.

“Thank you… Kane.” He paused a moment before remembering back to the list that he’d been given a few days before. “That name sounds familiar; I think I was told to expect you, but they said you might be coming with your brother.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Why not? Is he not an eldritch horror?”

“He is. He just won’t come. Has better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“He said ‘watching paint dry’.”

“Maybe when you see him again, you can tell him we’re more fun than watching paint dry,” Alexa suggested, bouncing Lilly on her lap.

“That’s right. And that goes for all of you,” Dr. Shelby mentioned. “If anyone knows someone who might need a support group like this, go ahead and invite them. This isn’t Fight Club; it doesn’t have to be secret.”

The group chuckled a little at his attempt at a joke. Even Kane cracked a small smile.

Dr. Shelby relaxed a little in his seat. These people might dress strangely and have bizarre interests, diets and backstories, but deep down, they were just like anyone else. Maybe he could help them after all.

[lettheladylead]

Title: Witness

Summary: Scrooge is on trial and he needs a character witness, but he's not sure how helpful she'll be. Ship: Scrooge/Goldie Word count: ~3080 Notes: I needed to write something after seeing the summary for the upcoming episode, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510085

-

“This trial is a sham!” Scrooge shouted, slamming his shackled fists onto the desk in front of him. “You havenae allowed me a proper lawyer or allowed anyone to testify on my behalf!”

The giant mystical judge scoffed and held the gavel in his hand, ready to use it if the duck continued yelling. Holding him in contempt of court would be an easy way to end this trial early, but he wanted to make sure Mr. McDuck paid properly for his crimes.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes and walked in front of the desk. “And whom would you have testify for you? In the High Mystical Court of Good Versus Evil, family members aren’t allowed.”

Scrooge gaped. “Not even as a character witness? I spend all my time with my family!”

The smug, suited creature shrugged at him with a smile. “Too bad, then. Looks like we’ll just have to continue listing how you’ve corrupted these fine men and women and forced them into lives of villainhood.”

The old duck seethed, grinding his teeth and considering his options. If he let the trial continue this way, his poor family up in the spectator’s seats was about to watch him get destroyed and they had yet to even discuss punishment, but Scrooge was sure it would be worse than anything he could get on Earth.

As he glanced up at his family - Donald, Della, and the boys in particular - he wondered if Webby or Twenty-Two would’ve been allowed to defend him had they been zapped here along with the rest of them. They just happened to be in the kitchen at the time of abduction and were probably losing their minds with worry. Hopefully one of the boys was able to send some sort of textual message to let them know what was going on.

At that thought, Scrooge’s eyes lingered on Louie and his phone, and a thought suddenly came to mind. It was something he wasn’t sure about...perhaps it’d be a bad idea...but he had no other options.

“I know someone!” he shouted. “I have a character witness who’s not in my family!”

The judge and prosecutor stared down with their many, many eyes - giving Scrooge an expression he could only describe as terrifying and suspicious.

“You still want to try this?” the prosecutor asked. “Alright, fine. Who is it?”

“Goldie O’Gilt.” Scrooge ignored the reactions from his family - particularly Della and Donald’s resounding ‘oh, please no’ - and hoped this would be a good choice.

The prosecutor looked up at the judge, who nodded his head and slammed his gavel down three times before snapping his fingers. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed without anything happening or anyone saying a word. Scrooge glanced from side to side. “Should you...call a recess so I can contact her?”

“That would be a waste of time,” the prosecutor said as there was suddenly a poof of purple smoke at the witness stand.

Everyone stared as the smoke dissipated to reveal one Goldie O’Gilt - currently wearing a bathrobe and her hair was down and wet and as soon as she opened her eyes she was immediately very unhappy.

“Oh, what the hell is this?” Goldie shouted, choosing to stay seated but glaring around the room. “What am I on trial for this time?”

Scrooge felt himself getting sweaty. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Nothing, Miss O’Gilt,” the judge said as he leaned down to look at her. “Mr. Scrooge McDuck is on trial for crimes of harassment, manipulation, and corruption against multiple innocent victims.”

Goldie blinked up at him and then turned her head to look at Scrooge.

He gave her a toothy grin and a small, nervous wave.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Goldie asked as she grabbed her hair and wrung it out onto the floor.

The prosecutor stared at the puddle of water and then glared up at their new witness. “You’ve been called as a character witness for Mr. McDuck. Now do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Scrooge dropped his head to the desk while the prosecutor and judge glanced at one another.

The bailiff walked over with a large brown book that had a giant lock around the side and was shaking a bit and making snarling sounds. Goldie raised an eyebrow as he held it towards her.

“Put your hand on this.”

Goldie grimaced. “Must I?”

“If you don’t want to testify, we can’t force you,” the prosecutor said with a pretentious glance up and down her body. “Clearly you were in the middle of something, after all.”

Goldie glared at him and in that moment decided she hated him more than she enjoyed inconveniencing Scrooge. She slapped her hand down on top of the book. “I swear to tell the truth.”

The bailiff mumbled something under his breath and then the book lit up and shone a bright light onto Goldie for a few seconds before fading away. He walked away as Goldie rubbed at her eyes.

“What was that?”

“That was a Light of Honestly,” the prosecutor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Which means that so long as you’re at the witness stand, you’re physically incapable of lying or excluding relevant information from your statements.”

“What?!” both Goldie and Scrooge shouted at the same time. They immediately locked eyes with one another and could feel their shared nervousness almost psychically.

“Since when do you use something like that?”

“It was specifically requested and provided by one of the accusers in this case. Now, could you state your name and occupation to the court, please?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched as she squeezed the sleeves of her robes into her hands. “Goldie Kathleen O’Gilt. I…” She paused as if considering her words - or, Scrooge suspected, trying to find a way to word her lie so that it was still true. “...I own and operate a hotel.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. She did what? He attempted to make eye contact with her so he could let her know how confusing what she just said was to him, but she was purposefully avoiding his stare.

“And how do you know Scrooge McDuck, Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie frowned and glanced up at Scrooge before glaring at the lawyer. “He’s my…” She seemed to struggle with the words again. “...boy...friend?”

A collective groan could be heard from the duck boys in the peanut gallery while Scrooge couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“Are you asking?” the judge asked sternly, leaning towards her again.

She grunted and angrily waved her hands around. “We’ve never really talked about it, alright? He’s the love of my life and we’ve been seeing each other on and off since 1897. How’s that for you?”

Scrooge was surprised not to hear another groan, and looked back to see the boys and Della looking quite touched by Goldie’s confession. They weren’t the only ones - even after their little Florida adventure, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now he had ten times as much reason not to die right then and there.

“That’s descriptive enough, I suppose,” the prosecutor responded, clearly not recognizing or not caring about the emotional turmoil Goldie was going through after blurting that out so carelessly. “In the one hundred and twenty years you’ve known Scrooge McDuck, have you found him to be cruel?”

Scrooge stared at her pleadingly, despite knowing she physically couldn’t lie he still hoped she’d find a way to make him sound good.

Goldie brushed her fingers through her damp hair. “On occasion. But usually I was cruel to him first.”

“Usually, but not always?” the prosecutor asked, taking a look at the jury who were watching with gradually increasing interest. “So he has been cruel without provocation.”

“The first night we met involved me drugging his coffee and then him kidnapping me,” Goldie said nonchalantly, clearly starting to realize there was no fighting the Light of Honesty. “At the time I thought he was cruel, but looking back on it, I don’t mind that it happened.”

Scrooge closed his eyes and wondered what his family was thinking at that moment. He was thinking about all the different painful, mystical punishments he was going to face after Goldie destroyed his already limited chances of surviving this trial.

“Interesting. And over the years, have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck inflicting such cruelties on anyone else?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No. I like to think our relationship is special,” she added with a wink.

The prosecutor scoffed, annoyed by her response. “Can I assume this means your time spent with Scrooge McDuck is usually just the two of you, making you less than an expert on how he treats people he’s not having sex with?”

“Objection!” Scrooge yelled, standing up. “Curse me kilts, there are kids here!”

The judge shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

“Fine,” the prosecutor responded, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “But my question still stands.”

Goldie huffed. “Unfortunately for me, I have spent plenty of time with Scrooge’s other associates. I can’t confirm whether or not I’ve seen him around your particular accusers, but I’ve interacted with most of his enemies at one point or another.”

“...good to know,” the prosecutor said and brushed invisible dust off of his lapel. “Have you ever known Scrooge McDuck to harass others?”

“Only when they owe him money.”

“Oh? And does that happen often?”

Goldie let out a short laugh. “No one would be dumb enough to borrow from Scrooge! He adds interest even when you borrow five bucks for lunch.”

Scrooge pouted and ignored the temptation to argue that he had every right to do so.

“Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be manipulative?”

There was a pause at that question, one that filled the space between Scrooge and Goldie with a modicum of tension. “Yes.”

“...can you elaborate on that?”

Goldie sighed. “Well, he’s the richest duck in the world, a businessman, and an adventurer. You can’t be successful in any of those categories without being at least somewhat manipulative. Though he’s certainly not the most manipulative man I’ve dealt with, he’s not exactly a saint.”

Scrooge groaned and slammed his head against the desk multiple times in a row.

The blonde pouted angrily and tried to think of a way to save face. “That being said...if the accusers in question aren’t ex-business partners or fellow adventurers, I question the relevance of anything I’ve said.”

The jury seemed to find that statement interesting and the prosecutor glared angrily at Goldie for causing a stir. Scrooge lifted his head and smiled at her - now he was sure she was fighting to help him.

“I think we can allow the jury to decide the relevance of this information for themselves,” the prosecutor said with a snarl. “We don’t need any unfair extrapolation from our witnesses, Miss O’Gilt. Stick to the facts.”

Goldie let out a short, low hum and grabbed her hair to wring it out once again, getting water all over the attorney’s shoes. He gasped and stepped away from her.

“Oops!” Goldie put a hand to her beak, but offered no apology. No one needed to think twice to realize it was because she was incapable of doing so at that moment.

“Corruption is the biggest charge,” the prosecutor said matter-of-factly. “The accusers all claim that their villainy is a direct result of damages done to them, their property, or their livelihoods by Scrooge McDuck. Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be a corrupting person?”

Scrooge wondered about that charge against him in particular. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his enemies were a direct result of something he did - but it wasn’t purposeful nor was he the only person capable of causing these problems for them. If Scrooge hadn’t indirectly negatively impacted their lives, some other billionaire would’ve done it instead. It’s not like he was the only businessman-adventurer in the world.

“...yes.”

Scrooge sucked in a breath. He didn’t know what Goldie was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Not in any way that’s appropriate for the audience,” she answered with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the kids, too, after all.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and blushed. Alright.

The prosecutor slapped a hand against his forehead. “Not that kind of corruption!” he shouted, pointing a finger into her face and getting much too close for anyone’s comfort. “Have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck influence the life of an innocent person in a way that led to them falling down a path of villainy?”

The jury reacted more than expected to the prosecutor’s anger, whispering among themselves briefly. Scrooge and the prosecutor both looked over at the Jury Box, but Goldie kept her eyes forward.

“...not purposefully, but yes.”

The prosecutor smiled. “Ahh, well naturally, if it wasn’t on purpose, then it doesn’t matter! Is that what you’re saying?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched again. “You asked me to state facts. I stated a fact. Do you have any other dumb questions?”

He glared at her and glanced up at the judge, who was leaning on his hand and watching their discussion closely. “I want to summarize what you’ve told us so far, Miss O’Gilt.”

“According to you, Scrooge McDuck may not be prone to harassment, but he is often cruel, fairly manipulative, and has been known to corrupt innocent people to villainy. Is that all correct?”

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her leg. “That’s all accurate to what I’ve said here, yes.”

The prosecutor turned back to look at Scrooge, whose expression could only be described as defeated. “Some character witness you’ve found yourself, Mr. McDuck.”

“Stick to the witness, Prosecutor,” the judge said quickly, holding up his gavel.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor responded, moving back towards Goldie again. “Now, Miss O’Gilt, based on what you’ve told us here, Scrooge McDuck is not a nice man nor is he a noble man. Yet you referred to him as the, quote, love of your life, unquote. This leads me to believe that you, yourself, may not be a nice or noble person, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“If anyone has any doubts as to whether or not Scrooge McDuck is a cruel, manipulative person capable of horrible deeds, we need look no further than the fact that his girlfriend here is similarly cruel, manipulative, and as many of us here are already aware - a criminal.”

There were gasps among the crowd and the jury - the prosecutor turned his head towards them as he continued. “Yes, everyone, Miss O’Gilt here is actually quite familiar with the inside of this courtroom. She’s been on trial dozens of times over the past one hundred years for theft of mystical artifacts from every dimension and realm you can think of.”

Scrooge closed his eyes again and started counting. Perhaps if he did this long enough, he’d wake up from this nightmare he found himself trapped in.

Goldie, on the other hand, was unperturbed. “Been on trial, but never been convicted. Who’s the one bringing up irrelevant information now?”

“I simply thought it was important for our jury to be aware of the witness’ extracurricular activities.”

“The activities you have no evidence of,” Goldie said sternly. She glanced up at the judge. “I believe your prosecutor is harassing me when all I’ve done is comply with every question I’ve been asked both here and at previous trials.”

The judge considered this for a moment and looked down at the prosecutor. “She has a point. Was she convicted of any of the crimes you’re accusing her of?”

The prosecutor frowned. “No, but-”

“But nothing,” the judge said as he slammed down his gavel again. “You will move on from this statement of irrelevant accusations or I will have you replaced with another attorney.”

“...yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said with a bow, glaring at Goldie.

She smiled back at him, then glanced at Scrooge and blew him a kiss.

======

After court was adjourned and Scrooge’s handcuffs were finally removed after all those hours of magical metal chafing against his feathers, he spent an enjoyable few minutes being congratulated by his family before Goldie stepped out of the courtroom and stared at them.

“Um...Uncle Scrooge?” Louie said, tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think Aunt Goldie wants to talk to you.”

Scrooge considered taking a moment to discuss that nickname with his nephew, but Goldie’s presence distracted him enough that he simply turned around and walked towards her.

“You really saved me in there, O’Gilt,” Scrooge said softly as he reached down and grabbed one of her hands.

Goldie shrugged and squeezed his hand back. “Well it wasn’t like I could let them throw you in interdimensional prison. They don’t have conjugal visits, you know.”

He blushed and pulled his hand away. “Must you always be so inappropriate?!”

“Not always,” Goldie said as she took a step closer to him. “Just with you.”

Scrooge felt his heart racing and couldn’t help the nervous smile that came back to his face. “...I would’ve thought you’d run out of here as fast as possible after what you said.”

She played with her hair for a bit, roughly running her fingers through the knots that had formed since the judge had summoned her from her bathroom before she’d had a chance to brush. “It’s not like I said anything you didn’t already know.”

He smiled brighter and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her beak; a disgusted groan sounded from behind him that he was pretty sure was Louie’s. “Is the judge sendin’ you back home?”

“After I’m done with you, yes.”

Scrooge grabbed her hands again. “How about you come to the mansion instead, dear?”

Goldie breathed out a laugh. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m not wearing anything under this robe and I’d kind of like to do something with my hair before it knots into a nest.”

“I’ve got some of your clothes,” Scrooge said quickly. “And showers. Towels. Hair brushes. Anythin’ you need.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Scrooge’s family who were all pretending not to pay attention to them. “Well...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 7:

Fast!

Bar Playlist: Youtube, Spotify

Fishing In the Dark

“Okay Logan, we are going to be on Peanut together. Sound good?” Leo held a kiss dazed Logan’s face in his hands as they spent the last hour convincing Logan to go on the trail ride with them. Kissing him until he couldn’t focus on his fear was seeming to work the best. Finn got in on it too before he had gotten on his own horse, along with most of the team. Celeste and Dumo decided to stay behind and help Judy clean up.

Leading a still dazed Logan over to Peanut he helps him up, Leo following soon after. Hands under Logan's arms holding the reins. Lo was leaning back into Leo’s chest and only noticed they were on a living vehicle when said vehicle started moving to join the others.

Leo rubbed a soothing hand over his side to let him know he was okay. Finn and Clay trotted over to Leo and Logan with a smile on their faces. There was a brown Burmese cat that was lazily stretched across Leroy’s rear behind Clay.

“It’s about time! From what I’ve heard Logan is pretty good at riding, should transfer over to equine.” Clay winks and Logan smacks Leo’s arm as he tries to hide his laugh. “Just know that Leo tells me everything… even stuff I don’t want to know. But I do the same with him.” Clay shrugs and turns around going over to Thomas, Noelle and Reg, the cat just fully relaxed as Leroy bumped it around.

“How long have you had him?” Thomas vaguely gestures to Clay and his posse.

“About 4 years, found him in the woods eating a rabbit.” Clay smiles at him as they ride side by side down the trail Leo and Logan were leading. Jerry, a little song bird that loves to ride with Leo anytime he goes down the trail perching himself on the rim of Leo’s hat.

“Wha- I thought horses were herbivores!” Clay looks up at a confused Thomas and raises an eyebrow, then it clicks.

“Oooohhhh, you think Leroy is a HE! Nope, she’s a mare! Had her since I was 9 years old. Tina is a man though, fathers all the kitties around the farm.” Smiling his million dollar smile at him. “I also have a sand boa named William-”

“Snakespear?” Clay blinks a few times and laughs nodding.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Maybe to some of us who… maybe still browse Tumblr on occasion.” Thomas winks at him causing Clay's face to heat up, swallowing the happy feelings that he knows he can’t have. He smiles back and trots ahead to be next to Logan and Leo.

Logan was gripping Leo’s wrist the entire trail ride, Finn was so distracted at one point Kuny let go of a tree branch and it smacked him across the face because he didn’t listen when he was told to duck.

It was a nice relaxing ride through the countryside, nothing fancy, just an easy going adventure. Everyone made it back to the pasture in one piece, thank god, everyone was hopping off and unsaddling the horses.

Leo got off Peanut first just for a moment, in that moment he watched Logan completely freak out when Peanut took three steps to the left to graze. Hiding his smiling by sucking his lips in between his teeth, walking over to Lo he helped him off of the horse. Logan was clinging to Leo like a koala, and tight enough it was hard for Leo to breath.

“You okay?” Leo put a hand under Logan’s booty to support him and ran his other hand through his soft curls. Hoping he felt safe now.

“I am now.” Logan looks up at him and smiles before lightly nipping at his jaw. Leo laughs a little and nods a thank you to Reg who is un saddling Peanut. Leading everyone inside to relax until they go out later tonight. Walking into the entrance hall and kicking off his boots all while holding Logan still.

“I thought these were school pictures!” Jackson, or Nado as the team calls him, points to the bunches of framed photos of Leo. “Are these… mugshots!?” He laughs in disbelief. The rest of the team starts to examine the pictures more closely. Some pictures had Leo with bruises or blood, some had him smiling with a middle finger up or peace signs, others had him looking annoyed. His younger one from when he was like 12 -13 years old were of him looking scared or crying.

“Yeah, they are all my mugshots from when I was, I think, 12 to this year. The Sheriff doesn't like us at all, arrests Clay and I for random reasons and even if, like when we were younger we would call the cops because someone vandalized the gate to the ranch and tried to break in. I got arrested for a false call. I was 14 I think. The cops are definitely not afraid to use force with us either… I hope he fucking leaves us alone while y’all are down visiting.” Leo is looking at his first mugshot ever of him sobbing at 12 years old. The week of his birthday, someone threw a rock through a window at a shop and blamed him.

“Is this your sister?” Timmy points to a mugshot of Eloise from last year and Reg bursts out laughing, Clay snorts and Leo looks confused.

“That’s my mom…”

Hours later, the drunk trio had already left for the bar to get a table and to talk to some of their friends they haven’t seen since the beginning of summer. The team was in their little ranch hand house getting ready, the speakers in the house all blaring Fast! By Sueco the Child because they know… they know there will be nothing but yeehaw music to assault and molest their ears tonight.

Thomas was pulling his grey shirt over his head, smoothing the fabric down as Noelle chills in her sweatpants and his t-shirt. People who didn’t want to go out are going over to Clay’s house to learn a bunch of mixed drink recipes and to talk shit. It was mostly the girls who didn’t feel comfortable getting harassed by middle aged men with beer guts, Dumo and Celeste who have become close friends with Judy overnight, and people who didn’t like going out in general. Like Olli, Adam, Timmy, and Sergei.

“We should talk to him.” Thomas sits down next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. Looking at the ceiling all he can think about is how easy they got along with Clay. How his smile and Noelle together made his heart speed up. When they both turned to look at him earlier he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

“I think you need to talk to him first, this is something new for you. To like a man. I- I’m not going to lie the thought of Clay and you separately give me the same feelings, but you two together. It makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever felt. Do you maybe want to talk to Lo or Finn before we talk to Clay? To make sure this isn’t just us… I don’t know, using Clay in a way we don’t mean to?”

“Yeah, I think that's a good idea. But when can we get them away from Leo long enough to talk to them?” Looking at his watch and hearing all the thumping down the stairs he gives her one last kiss before standing up and stretching.

“You could try to corner one of them tonight?” She smiles at him and winks at him as he shakes his head. “Have a good time tonight, Babe.”

“You too.” He heads out the bedroom down and down the stairs. He was riding with James and Coops to the Bar but maybe he would try to switch and ride with Finn and Logan.

“Red-ay!” James slings his arm around his shoulders and ruffles his hair. He thinks for a moment, then sees Finn swinging the keys to his rental car on his finger as Logan is on the ground struggling to yank his boots on. He was wearing heavy combat boots to dance around at a ‘Honkey-Tonk’ as Leo calls it. Seems like a bad idea.

“Actually I think I’m gonna tag along with Finn and Logan.” He smiles at James who shrugs and slaps his back before running off. Walking over to Finn, he looks down at Logan and gives Finn an ‘is he serious?’ look.

“He doesn’t want to be called short by all the hot cowboys and these are the tallest shoes he owns.” Sighing he looks back at Logan who is laying flat on the ground out of breath from fighting with his shoes. Reaching out he helps him up. “What’s up?”

“I’m gonna ride with you if that's fine.”

“Sounds good, let's go.” Finn skips to the car while Thomas and Logan walk side by side. Getting in the car, Thomas was squished into the backseat. As soon as the doors close he is asking questions.

“How did you guys know?”

“Know what?” Logan looks back at him as Finn starts the car. Thomas looks out his window watching the other cars pull out and start driving towards the gate.

“Know that three was the perfect number for you…” He looks back at them and sees them share a look for a moment, having a silent conversation before Logan climbs into the back with Thomas.

“It took us a long time to figure out, but we knew that Leo was for us because we could barely function as a couple without him. Like we could do it but, it just wouldn’t be the same. There was always something missing after we both started getting feelings for him.” Logan sighs a little. “It's hard to explain but it was like there was always a perfect Leo sized gap wherever we went. Once we both realized we wanted him, and he wanted us… it was a no brainer to ask him to be with us.”

“It’s definitely a feeling of loss when they leave and it's just you two together. So maybe it will cement your feelings when you get away from that person for a while. If they are the main topic of conversation when it's just you and Noelle… maybe three is the perfect number for you as well.” Finn smiles at him as he drives past the gate and follows the google map to the bar.

“What if we have already had time without them and.. We- I don’t know, we want to talk to them but I’m scared because.” He gulps and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Because I’ve never felt this way towards a guy before.” Finn blinks a couple of times and Logan nods, making a noise of understanding.

“ It’s a scary feeling at first, I freaked out for a long time until I finally met Finn. Then I freaked out even more and actually tried to leave the Frat. Then I finally let myself fall and I fell fast and in the stupidest way.” He laughs a little remembering when he realized he was in love with Finn. “Basically Finn had this mini basketball hoop in our dorm room the first year we had to share a room. Second semester I finally gave in to my desire for him. We had sex, honestly it was terrible because neither of us had any fucking clue what we were doing. But after, this bitch!” He starts laughing as Finn starts getting red on the tips of his ears from embarrassment. “He got up after like two minutes of cuddling because he had so much energy and started playing basketball! I was curled up in my duvet watching him with a sore ass, and a stupid smile… That's when I knew he was for me.” Smiling at Finn, just absolutely in love he turns to look at Thomas who is still laughing a little.

“I think I realized I liked… This person after they sent me a video of them playing a harmonica really annoyingly and another person in the car threw it out the window and he pulled another one out of his pocket.” Snickering, he smiles at them. “Thanks for not freaking out on me, Noelle told me to talk to you guys because she also really really likes Clay.” He realizes he just said the name he was trying to avoid and looks at them a little worried.

“It was pretty obvious how she was flirting with him all afternoon, and you just kind of watched and looked like a little puppy following them around.” Logan moves out of the way as Thomas tries to smack his arm and puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry! Sorry! I meant like the big strong manly man you are.” Laughing, Finn pulls into a parking spot in front of the bar and shuts the car off.

Walking into the bar the smell of sweat and beer washed over them, making them scowl for a moment. They spot Reg talking to a blonde girl with a red cowgirl hat on. Leo and Clay are already hustling a game of pool with some people who look about the same age as them. The team made their way to the tab Reg was at and got comfortable. Ordering drinks and listening to music. Leo and Clay stopped by after losing $100 on the pool game. Chatting for a few moments when suddenly a sound like bagpipes came over the speakers.

Thomas watched as Clay's face completely lit up, dragging Leo out onto the dance floor. Everyone got into orderly lines and started stepping and dancing to the song all the same. It was mesmerizing. Thomas would be lying if he said he didn’t watch Clay completely lose himself in the music and didn’t have to take a drink to cure his cottonmouth. Especially when those goldish lights would land on them.

Making them even brighter than before, the lights giving Clay’s skin a bronze glow. When Clay pulled his tank top out of the waistband of his jeans, he choked on his beer. Patting his back Finn was chuckling as he watched Leo dance.

He moved so easily, like it was second nature, the dance didn’t look hard but Finn was known to have two left feet off the ice. The lights were amazing, making Leo’s hair poking out from under his hat look like gold leaf.

He was beautiful.

It was obvious that Leo and Clay were platonic soulmates, they mirrored every move perfectly. They had fun and acted like they were the only ones on the floor and whipping their heads back and forth to the beat of the music made Clay kick Leo by accident and he would just laugh.

Once the song was over Logan, Leo, Sirius, Thomas and Clay all went to smoke outside. Sirius and Thomas were out there to get some fresh air while Logan and Leo traded a cig back and forth. Clay puffed on his own and closed his eyes looking up to the sky. Hearing Footloose come on over the speakers Logan and Leo rushed inside because that was one song Logan actually knew how to dance to.

Leo joined him on the floor and would laugh but catch him anytime he would stumble with his boots. He would end up spinning Logan back into place and singing off key from behind him.

Reg was watching his friends as he spoke with Kuny about the wildly different styles of boots and hats people were wearing when a panicked looking Clayton came up to him. Grabbing his arm and walking towards the one dark lit corner of the bar and kicking a couple who was making out, out of the corner. He turns to Reg. Watching someone behind Reg walk towards the door and leave.

“You alright?”

“Thomas just kissed me…” Looking at him with wide eyes looking so lost, Reg grabs his arm to make sure he doesn’t bolt. “He kissed me and he has a girlfriend Reg! I- I’m not a homewrecker I swear!”

“Whoa whoa, hey Clay. Look at me.” Clay makes eye contact with him and starts to relax. “Thomas isn’t the type of person to just kiss someone out of nowhere, and I bet he is going to tell Noelle right away. It’s okay.”

“But Reg, I really like them… like in the way Leo likes both Logan AND Finn. I don’t want to lose them. I just figured it out the other night. I was never going to act on it because, its pretty fucking rare, but now Thomas did and- and what do I do!”

“How about we go and sit down for a couple of songs? Maybe dancing might help you out because it always seems to relax you. Okay?” Clay nods and follows Reg back to the table, after a few fidgeting moments he goes to the bar and orders a couple of shots and takes them all in a matter of seconds. Taking a deep breath he starts to relax. He feels a familiar hand run from his shoulder to his hip.

Ashley.

“Long time no see, huh.” She smiles a sly smile at him and leans her back on the bar. She was wearing a low spaghetti strap tank top and painted on blue jeans with red boots that look like Clay’s. He swallows a little. She did look good, and he was getting to be just drunk enough to be horny.

“What do you want?” She catches him looking at her boobs and smirks; he flushes red and turns around to also lean his back on the bar, looking out to the dance floor where some of the team has joined Leo in dancing to Hillbilly Bone by Trace Adkins. He looked at the table and noticed Reg staring directly at him.

“I just wanted to say hi, looks like you’ve really been taking care of yourself.” She feels his arm that he unintentionally flexes and she squeezes his muscle. He looks at Reg one last time, making his decision, he looks back at her and nods towards the door.

He leaves with her.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” Reg watches him leave. Absolutely shocked. He gets up from the table and walks onto the floor, walking over to Leo he taps his shoulder. Leaning down so Reg can talk into his ear, Reg tells Leo exactly what happened.

Looking up and around the bar he can’t spot Clay anywhere, he excuses himself from the group and walks outside with Reg. Seeing Clay’s truck is still there they walk over to it and knock on the window before looking in. Empty. They left.

“Fuck. I’m texting Judy.” Leo does exactly that.

Leo, having taken a few drinks to calm down, lets himself relax. He was at a bar with his friends and boyfriends, he could have a little bit of fun. They all decided they were leaving in an hour anyway.

So when Fishing in the dark by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band starts he grabs Finn and pulls him close swaying to the beat of the music as he mumbles the words into his neck, still stressing about Clay leaving like that. Holding Finn as close to him as he could he let himself just forget about anything but the man in direct contact with his body.

Once the song had finished he stood there still holding Finn for an extra couple of moments, letting Finn kiss the top of his head, his hat being on Logan’s head who was sitting at the table because his feet hurt. They eventually pull apart and start back towards the table.

“Oh fucking Christ!” Leo sighs as he notices who has taken his chair at the table. Ashley’s brother and the Sheriff’s son. David. He walks over and stands next to the chair. “What the hell are you doing over here?”

“I’m socializing with some new people, you didn’t bring them. Why would they want anything to do with you?” He laughs and his lackeys on the other side of the chair also laugh and slap his shoulder.

“Actually they did come here with me.” He crosses his arms and the rest of the team is looking a little uncomfortable and confused. “So if you and your shithead friends would oh so kindly leave. I would appreciate it.” Narrowing his eyes David stands up in a way that is sizing Leo up. Leo raises an unimpressed brow because David is a good five inches shorter than him and a scrawny man.

“Do they know you’re a fucking faggot? That you’re a cockslut? A fairy?”

“Why do you think we are here?” James pipes up and the three idiots across the table look at him in shock.

“You���re a whore, I could never!” David looking back at Leo and jabbing a finger in his chest. Looking David up and down slowly with a cringed face he nods.

“Yeah, you couldn’t. Now, I believe I asked y'all to leave.” Leo points with his thumb behind him.

“You’re dad would be so proud.” Leo grabs him by the collar of his shirt and aggressively pulls him closer to him with a look of pure fury on his face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said. you’re disgusting dad-” Leo is pulled away from David by Sirius.

“At least my dad wasn’t a murder!”

“AT LEAST MY DAD DIDN’T KILL HIMSELF!” Leo stops fighting against Sirius’ grip and calmly gets away from him, storming out the doors, kicking them open and walking towards his truck. Kicking rocks up and trying his best to hold himself together. Getting into his truck he slams the door and grips the steering wheel, pressing his forehead against the hot plastic and squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can.

Minutes later Finn and Logan crawl into the truck in silence. Leo goes to apologize but they hush him and just give him understanding smiles and both of them cup one of his cheeks. He was so close to crying but he just couldn’t. Not in front of them, the people who are supposed to see him at his best.

Once they get home everyone goes to their rooms and Leo walks down behind the barn to the pond.

He spends the night by himself under his dad’s tree.

[sylvain-writes]

If We Say the Words (Raphael x Reader)

Rated: G Gender Neutral Reader, friends to lovers, pining, affection, confessing feelings You and Raphael have been 'dating' but not really. It's finally time to confront your feelings, if only Raphael would make his move. for @bppeny32

Raphael's arm brushes yours as you approach your door, rough and solid and perfect. You hold yourself back from linking your arm with his and leaning in, but the fantasy niggles at the back of your mind. 

Your discussion has turned animated as you playfully argue whose Mandarin was better when you'd practiced with Meili at her family's restaurant during dinner. While Raphael was the clear winner last week at Omatsu, you think you've pulled out a win tonight. 

"Admit defeat,  Raph,” you tease, switching to walk backwards. You poke his chest to make your point known. “I saw you pretending to like the peanut noodles. You could have told her you messed up your order." 

You give him a playful shove that does nothing to alter his stride, and it’s really just an excuse to touch him again.

He pretends the overcast sky is the most interesting thing he’s seen all night, but then gives you a sideways glance and a twisted scowl that has you in stitches. 

"Still a sore loser, huh?" You pivot to face front as you approach your townhouse. The steps are slick with wet fallen leaves, and as you lead the climb, Raphael steadies you with hands on your waist. 

"Sore?," he says, "Wouldn't know." You wonder how he's so unaffected by the touch that’s left you breathless.  “I neva lose." The soft light of the streetlamp gives his eyes a mischievous twinkle.

"Oh, come on!" You give him a slap on the stomach before fishing for your keys. "You're coming in, right?"

Raphael tips his head with a grin, poised to say yes, when his pocket starts to ring. He lifts the phone to his ear with a gruff, "Hello," and a voice speaks immediately over the line.

Raphael meets your eyes. You smile, but he turns away. 

He grunts into the phone, trying to mask his frustration with short answers and a tight jaw.  But it bleeds through his protests. 

You slide your hand up the curve of his shell in silent support of whatever he's going through. The clench and release pattern of the free hand at his side gives away his struggle to keep his even tone. You're proud of him for not losing his cool.

Abruptly, the conversation comes to an end. Raphael turns, his bulk and stature smaller somehow as he rounds his shoulders and dips his head low. He gives you a soft, despondent look before dropping his gaze to where your hands are linked. You don’t remember reaching out for him. You cover Raphael's hand as it flexes and turns.

When his eyes meet yours again, they're searching. Intense, and wide, and needful. Raphael stares and you take the smallest step forward. But instead of coming closer, Raphael lets his hand fall from your grasp.

"That was Leo," he says, telling you what you already know.

"Ok." Your short nod is a familiar one. Just as his goodbye will be. 

"Mikey found a lead. I gotta go."

You think maybe tonight’s goodbye hurts more than the others. 

You barely register the lonely walk up the stairwell. By the time you reach your floor, you know Raphael is already sprinting across town by the rooftops. 

Your palm is hot with the memory of holding his hand. With the texture of his shell under your touch. Your fist curls around the phantom sensations regardless of how silly it is to think you can hold onto the feelings forever. 

You can’t help but sigh with want for the loss of him. For the loss of the kiss that seemed a hair's breadth away before Raphael's hand dropped from yours. 

It would have softened the goodbye; it would have been a sign. It would have been a long time coming. With a heavy heart, you think, It'll be a long time still. 

You can't force Raphael to move faster than he's willing to go. And if he's not comfortable, if he doesn't feel safe exploring the feelings you both clearly share, then you'll go at his pace. You’ll follow his lead. Quietly you admit to yourself, you’ll follow him anywhere.

You've been spending more and more time together. And now it seems like you have a standing dinner date for Tuesday nights. No, not a date. Dinner and movies and moonlit walks. Stargazing and late night phone calls. Family game nights and music exchanges. But no dates. Right. You're not dating.

And when you stand close or choose the seats closest to each other, when your heart leaps into your throat at his texts and your breath catches in your chest at each compliment, when his face lights up the moment he's caught sight of you, that's not a testament to your mutual attraction.

You flirt and you touch and everyone says that one day you'll be more than friends, but each day that passes without Raph taking the next step leaves you feeling like maybe everyone's imagining it all. 

Yawning and trying not to think about how your loneliness feels heavier tonight, you flick off the light in the hallway and walk into your bedroom. 

You're too focused on the drawstring tie of your pajama bottoms to notice the large form seated at your window. But once you look up, there's no way you can miss Raphael's imposing figure. 

Only, he doesn't look intimidating at all. In fact, he looks smaller than he's ever seemed. And it's not that he's lost bulk.  No, it’s the way he stoops and curls in on himself, as if afraid to take up too much space. And it breaks your heart to see your boisterous, confident warrior like this twice in a night.

"Raph?"

He grinds his fist into his palm, refusing to meet your eye. "I'm always cuttin' out." It's an apology and an accusation against himself rolled into one.

"It's ok."

"Naw, it ain't. Ya deserve so much better than that." His accent is heavier than usual; his voice thick with emotions you can tell he’s holding back.

You let what he says hang, afraid anything said to the contrary might incite an argument. It would be so easy to fall into the trap, so easy to say the wrong thing and push him away. So, you draw him closer instead. 

"You must be tired," you acknowledge delicately. "I know I'm beat, and I wasn't the one running all over the city chasin-"

He holds up a hand to stop you from going further. He doesn't like to drag you into the mess of what's going on. Foot soldiers were one thing. But since the aliens and mutants started popping up, he’s tried to shelter you from whatever the News doesn't cover.

"Come on," you say, climbing onto the bed. You don't direct him to lie with you, you don't ask for a cuddle. But the request is implicit. Even if these are things the two of you don't ask for out loud.

When he sits against the headboard, you slide into place as you've done dozens of times before. The weight of his arm curls around you, a shelter and a shield. Your head and hand fall gently to his chest and he lies back with a quiet sigh. 

You draw circles over his heart, following the swirling pattern of his plated plastron and perhaps this would be the time when other couples open their hearts and talk about their feelings. But you don’t expect that from Raphael. Not when words are so difficult. 

When emotions run high, he lies low. And you have always taken Raphael - you've always loved him - as he is. 

It's a long while of silence. But it's comfortable and sweet. 

You gather every minute. Clutch them tight. Cherish them. It sometimes feels like you steal these moments from his hectic life. You don't take a second for granted.

His blunt fingertip follows the shell of your ear and your heart skips with the yet unspoken affection between you. He stops at your earlobe, offering slight pressure. Distracted by his thoughts, he rubs the soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger. 

Raphael draws in a deep breath and the shift in his pattern has your full attention. 

"What if..." Raphael starts and stops. His voice sinks into the space between you, rough and broken. "What if we were doin' this for real?" 

Hearing him struggle for words, you hate to ask for clarification. “This?"

Raphael's breath hitches and you swallow hard to push down your rising nervousness. "You and me. But, y'know..."

"For real," you finish his thought.

"Yeah.” His focus is on the delicate curve of your ear, the slope of your neck, anywhere but your eyes.  “Know I ain't good enough,” he says and gives a small grunt to clear his throat from shaking.  “Know I'm always gone or leavin'. But when I'm not, I wanna be here."

You tuck your chin and rest your forehead on his chest. Your 'yes' sounds more like a whimper than a word; you're not sure Raphael heard it for what it is. 

His words burrow into your heart, and the muscle aches as if his confession has expanded the muscle.

You confess more clearly, "I want you here," and your arms encircle him as best they can and squeeze. 

Raphael combs his fingers through your hair. He pets and waits, and you lift your gaze to his.

His green eyes shine, catching the glow of the bedside lamp. "...That mean we're doing this thing?” Hope tremors through his chest and your palm tingles with the vibration. “Cause I been wanting to kiss ya."

You crawl up beside him and plant a little kiss on his cheek. His skin grows warm and dark. Then, with a hand on his neck, you coax him to turn for more. The kiss is natural and safe. It feels like home, with the excitement of a favorite holiday. Your heart flutters and flips. You smile against Raphael's lips.

When his phone interrupts your night again, you kiss his cheek and settle back on the pillows to allow him room to answer the call. 

“Leo?” Raphael relaxes immediately, then flushes dark, and gives a nervous chuckle.

Your smile returns easily. Watching Raphael’s relationship with Leo evolve has been a warm thrill for everyone who knows them. 

“Yeah, I did.” Raphael answers Leo, and his hand sneaks toward you over the mattress. Though still wrapped up in the call, he hooks a finger over yours and smiles. “Yeah, I am.”

Raphael gives a contented grunt before tugging you close. You can hear Leo on the line as the pair of brothers exchange goodbyes.

“...happy for you, Raph,” Leo says and you blush at the approval. “I’m proud of you.”

Raphael stills in your embrace, unable to respond to his older brother's praise. Leo is understanding; he ends the call and Raph sets the phone aside without a word. 

You cup Raphael's face and look into his eyes. You take your time, gazing down at him in a way you felt hasn’t been your right or privilege until now. “Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Didn’t do nothin’,” Raphael mumbles humbly, his eyes transfixed on you. 

But you know the truth of it now. Going to Leo for support, for help, still doesn’t come easily for Raph, despite the closeness they’ve gained. And if Leo is checking in, asking about you, then Raphael must have confided in him. Trusted him with his vulnerability.

You give Raphael a soft shake of your head and a firm kiss on the lips. "Wasn't nothing." 

With your nose nuzzled against his, you tell him again. Because there are more words to be said - more you'd like for him to hear, and believe, and maybe one day say back. But today you'll start with this. 

[buoyantsaturn]

arrival to eeby deeby (1/1)

thank u @gayleafpool for the title

summary: Rachel gave Nico a push toward Will. “Make him shut up.” 

Will frowned, because Nico definitely wasn’t making any noise, so he didn’t see what the problem was. 

Then, it happened.

word count: 1790

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Will was laying in a sunny patch of grass outside the infirmary. It was one of those rare moments when he didn’t have any patients and actually got to relax for once while all of his siblings were off at one of their activities. 

He was debating heading back inside to find the community iPod that had been left behind a few years ago that all the children of Apollo had decided to share, when something suddenly blocked his sunlight. Will opened his eyes to find Rachel and Nico standing over him, both looking grumpier than they had when Will last saw them a few hours ago. 

Will propped himself up on his elbows and asked, “What’s up?” 

Rachel gave Nico a push toward Will. “Make him shut up.” 

Will frowned, because Nico definitely wasn’t making any noise, so he didn’t see what the problem was. 

Then, it happened.

Nico squeaked. 

His shoulders jumped with the sound, and his face burned red. 

“Oh my gods,” Will said, pushing himself up further until he was sitting in the grass. “That was adorable.”

“It’s not,” Nico and Rachel argued at the same time. 

“It’s torture!” Nico complained, and hiccuped again.

“He’s driving me crazy!” Rachel added. “I let him hang out because I wanted some quiet company while I painted, but he won’t stop hiccuping!” 

Will picked himself up off the ground and brushed off his shorts. “How long has this been going on for?” 

Nico shrugged, or maybe his shoulders just shook again from the force of another hiccup. 

“At least an hour,” Rachel answered for him. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore, and I mean, this is a medical issue, isn’t it? Can you fix this?” 

“Um.” Nico squeaked pitifully, and his arms tightened across his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure I can figure something out,” Will told her. 

Rachel nodded her head once. “Great. I’m gonna try to go finish the painting I was working on, but I’ll meet up with you guys sometime later, okay? After Squeaky over here stops squeaking.” 

“Don’t call me Squeaky!” Nico shouted, and then released the loudest, highest-pitched unrestrained hiccup that caused Nico to snap his jaw shut and slap a hand over his mouth. As his face grew to an even brighter shade of red, Will had to force himself not to laugh.

“Alright, I’ll take care of it,” Will assured them both as he held a hand out for Nico to take. “See you, Rachel.” 

Will led Nico up the steps to the Big House and into the separate infirmary door, taking him over to one of the empty cots. As Nico sat down, Will pulled over a stool and sat in front of him. “So, what were you doing when the hiccups started?” Will asked.

Nico shrugged, seeming unwilling to open his mouth lest another massive hiccup escape.

“You’re gonna have to talk sooner or later,” Will told him, but Nico simply shook his head in response. He hiccuped quietly, and glared down at his lap. “Okay, so, you know how Star Wars takes place a long time ago in a galaxy far away? But then Star Trek takes place in the future, so--”

Nico groaned, cutting him off. “Gods, Will, not again.” 

Will grinned. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I don’t want to talk because the big loud ones are starting to hurt--” Nico’s jaw snapped shut again, and he winced with his next hiccup.

“Do you want to write, instead?” Will suggested, and Nico thought about it for a second before shaking his head. That was probably for the best, since neither of them could read or write very well due to their dyslexia. Will hummed. “You could try signing, but I’m a little rusty, so you’d have to go slow.” 

Nico’s chin dipped down as he squeaked again, and Will grinned. “Was that a yes, or a hiccup?” 

Nico glared. 

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Will said. “Okay, so, what were you doing when the hiccups started?” 

Nico shrugged. He held up one hand, his palm facing toward him, and raised two fingers on his other hand, pointing at his palm from fingertip to wrist. 

Will frowned as he thought. “Reading?” Nico nodded. “You weren’t eating or drinking?”

Nico shook his head, then his hands were moving rapidly, switching from fingerspelling to signing. Rachel was painting. I was reading.

“I thought she said you were keeping her company,” Will remembered. “How were you keeping her company if you were both ignoring each other?” 

Nico rolled his eyes in response, which Will took to mean, you wouldn’t get it. 

“Okay, what have you tried to get rid of your hiccups?” Will asked.

Nico mimed drinking from a glass, then took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks. Drinking water and holding his breath, Will guessed, which were the first cures on his own mental list. He poked at Nico’s cheek like he was popping a bubble, and Nico’s cheeks deflated. “Okay, I might have to ask around for some other ideas, then, because I only have so many. Have you tried, um...not thinking about it?” 

Nico stared at him blankly.

“Yeah, okay, stupid idea,” Will replied. He got to his feet and Nico followed him with his eyes. “Alright, I think I heard once that you should lay upside down to get rid of hiccups, so… Try that.” 

Nico frowned in confusion and started to lay on the cot with his feet by the pillow and his head at the foot of the bed.

“No, sorry, like this,” Will said, and sat down on the next cot over. He hooked his knees around the edge of the bed and laid across it with his head hanging over the other side. After a few seconds, Nico mirrored his position, and Will snorted. “Your hair looks funny.” He righted himself and observed Nico for a few moments, during which Nico hiccuped three times.

Nico glared at him as if to say, this isn’t working.

“Just hang on for a few more minutes, you little vampire bat. I’m gonna see if that ancient computer in the Big House will load Google.” 

Will left Nico laying there to run into the Big House, and after a short eternity, he managed to load a webpage with supposed hiccup cures. He jotted down a quick list of the most plausible ideas before returning to the infirmary, where Nico was sitting up on the cot.

“Why’d you get up?” Will asked. “I know it wasn’t working, but none of these are gonna work immediately.”

Nico uncrossed his arms and held his hands over his stomach, his index fingers pointing at each other. Hurt. That was a sign Will was definitely familiar with. 

“Oh. Sorry,” Will said, joining him on the cot. “Hopefully one of these will work, then. I ignored anything that mentioned scaring, because neither of us need an accidental panic attack or stabbing today.”

Nico nodded in agreement. 

“Okay, let’s get started.” 

After an hour, they’d exhausted Will’s list. Nico had tried breathing into a paper bag, but got lightheaded, so Will had him stop. He gargled with water, which resulted in Nico hiccuping and inhaling a bit of water, causing him to choke. He ate a spoonful of sugar, and then had to down a full glass of water to get the painful sweetness out of his mouth. If the sugar had cured the hiccups, then the water brought them right back. 

Nico was beyond frustrated, and Will was starting to side with Rachel on the cute vs. annoying hiccup debate. At one point, Will had left the infirmary with a huff, leaving Nico to think he’d finally gotten sick of helping, but he’d returned with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, practically force-feeding Nico the sticky substance. 

“If this doesn’t work, we might be trying experimental surgery,” Will told him as he angrily crossed the last few attempts off on his list. 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Nico replied, having given up on not speaking somewhere around the time that Will had suggested he pull on his tongue. He licked his spoon clean of peanut butter, and the two boys waited with bated breath for a few silent moments until…

Hic!

Nico fell back against his pillow with a groan, and Will buried his face in his hands. 

“Go get the scalpel,” Nico told him in full seriousness.

Will nudged Nico to make room, and laid down beside him on the cot. “I’m not cutting you open. There’s gotta be something we haven’t tried.” 

“Death?” Nico suggested. “Haven’t tried dying yet.”

“I’ll put that at the bottom of the list.” 

“Maybe I can bribe Thanatos into taking me before my time. It would be humane. A mercy killing.” 

He hiccuped right next to Will’s ear, causing the healer to flinch. 

Wait, what did he say? A bribe?

Will got off the bed and crossed the room to Kayla’s desk. 

“I’m not eating any more peanut butter,” Nico called after him. 

Will dunked his hand into the infirmary’s swear jar, fishing beneath the American and Canadian currency for one of the drachmas at the bottom of the jar. He brought it back to Nico and offered the money to him. 

“What am I supposed to do with that?” Nico asked.

“Take it,” Will told him. “I’m buying your hiccups from you.” 

“You’re what?” 

“If it doesn’t work, you can put this toward your mercy killing fund.” Will picked up one of Nico’s hands and placed the coin in his palm. “There. I bought your hiccups.” 

Nico blinked. He took a breath. They waited in silence.

“Okay, what the fuck?” 

“It actually worked?” Will asked, laughing in disbelief. “That worked?”

Nico waved his arms between them. “What the fuck!”

Will pulled him in for a kiss, his hands on Nico’s cheeks and his smile brighter than the sun. “I’m letting those slide because there’s no kids around, and I’m worried that if you put that coin back in the swear jar your hiccups will come back, but watch your language, darling.” 

Nico shoved the drachma at Will’s chest. “Take it back.” 

“What? No,” Will replied. 

“This is freaking me out, take it back!” 

“Do you want your hiccups to come back?”

“Well, no, but--” 

“Then keep your money!” Will closed his hands around Nico’s to keep the coin between his fingers. “I bought your hiccups fair and square. No take-backs!” 

Nico was watching Will with wide eyes. “What the fuck is happening?” 

Will rolled his eyes and pulled Nico to his feet. “Alright, I think it’s time for a change of scenery. Let’s go find Rachel and see if she finished her painting yet.”

thanks for reading!!

buy me a coffee

[vannahfanfics]

King of the Jungle

Category: Childhood Fluff

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Characters: Tooru Oikawa, Hajime Iwaizumi

Hey, everyone! I am super stoked to present my story for the @iwaoibb! I had a great time working with my partner @kasiokami​, so be sure to check out her amazing art!

“All right, everyone! It’s time for recess!” 

All the kindergartners cheered in delight at the teacher’s announcement, aside from Tooru, whose mind was stewing with devious schemes. Snickering mischievously, he made sure to shoulder his way to the front of the crowd so that he was the first one out the door. It was the first day of kindergarten, and Tooru was eager to assert his superiority over the class from the get-go. 

The spring sun shone in a cloudless blue sky, and butterflies and songbirds flitted around the playground. The bright plastic constructions of blue, red, and yellow gleamed in the sunlight, promising an hour of fun before the school day finally ended. Unfortunately, Tooru’s peers wouldn’t be enjoying them. 

“All right!” he announced when he stopped in front of the crowd, his hands digging into his hips and his feet set wide apart in a power stance. “My name is Tooru Oikawa! I’m the king of the playground, and all of you are my subjects, so that means you have to do what I say!” 

The other kindergartners looked at each other in confusion. The teacher wasn’t paying much attention, thinking that Tooru had simply gotten them involved in a game, and was chatting amicably with a fellow kindergarten teacher. 

Tooru pointed at his gaggle of classmates with a proud guffaw. “Now, servants! Bring me gifts!” 

Tooru wasn’t sure if the other kids thought it was a game too, or if they were simply too scared to stand up to him. Regardless, they scrambled to do as he said. Tooru tottered off with his nose stuck in the air towards the center of the playground, where a hemispherical jungle gym shone in the sunlight. He was quite proud of himself, really; it had been easier than he had imagined to bend them all to his will. While the other kindergartners scampered around the playground to find trinkets suitable for a king, Tooru stopped at the base of the jungle gym— his new throne.

With his tongue sticking out of the corner of his lips, he began climbing the intricate latticework of plastic. It took him longer than he would have liked, as his stubby legs had difficulty stretching the great distances between the separate rungs, but there was nothing that Tooru couldn’t do. He would summit this mountain and reign supreme over his subjects! 

Tooru was panting slightly when he finally arrived at the rounded top of the jungle gym. He plunked himself down on the hexagonal bit of black plastic where all the pipes connected. He swung his legs in the open air as he surveyed his new kingdom from this appreciable height. It was quite nice indeed. 

He watched his classmates scurry around the playground like mice. The swings lay empty, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze. The slides baked in the sun with no one to slither down their tube-like tongues. The oak tree in the corner shook its leaves, begging for children to play house within its shade, but the children were preoccupied attempting to please their new lord. Tooru would give them permission to play, as long as they presented artifacts of his liking. 

Very soon, he had a line of children shuffling around in front of the jungle with their gifts. Tooru preened at the top of his throne, eager to see what offerings he would receive. A little girl in a red dress and white flats tottered up with a pink blush gracing her cheeks, averting her gaze while she held up a crown woven of flowers and twigs. 

“A king should have a crown, right?” 

Tooru nearly combusted with pride as she presented him with the crown. He half-climbed, half-slithered down the jungle gym to land in front of her, making her flinch back with a bashful look. His eyes gleamed hungrily as he leaned over, inspecting the craftsmanship of the crown. It was a bit clumsily woven with a few twigs sticking out here and there, and a few of the flowers wilted— but Tooru didn’t mind. He took it from her and laid it over his poofy, brown hair, admiring the way it sat upon his wavy locks. He puffed out his chest, placed his hands on his hips, and craned his head back snootily. 

“Pass! You can go play now.” 

The girl sighed in relief before whirling on her heel, bee-lining for the swingset. She climbed up into the seat and gripped the metal chains as she began swinging back and forth, filling the air with gentle creaks. The sound seemed to unsettle the crowd of children, spurring them to act quickly to win Tooru’s approval so they could enjoy the playground before their time was up. The next in line, a short boy with glasses, hurriedly toddled up to present Tooru with his gift. 

Tooru blinked at the large, blue-black beetle held in his hands. Its legs churned the air and its wings fluttered against the flats of the boy’s hands with snapping, buzzing noises. It had a funny-looking snout-like projection from its head that Tooru found reminiscent of a sword. A king must also have a sword to be a king, right? He grabbed the beetle by its snout, making it flap its wings furiously, and nodded to the boy. 

“Pass. You can go play too.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the boy was running for the see-saw, but it wouldn’t do much good with no one to sit on the other end. It didn’t look like the next boy would be joining him, either, because he had the audacity to hold up a pinecone with a sheepish smile. 

“Are you serious?” Tooru asked blaisely, his eyes growing lidded with malcontent. The boy used his free hand to rub awkwardly at his shirt. “This is a pinecone. What am I supposed to do with a pinecone?” 

“W-well,” the boy mumbled with a red haze blooming on his cheeks. “My mommy told me you can put peanut butter and seeds on it to make a bird feeder.” 

“Does it look like I have peanut butter?” Tooru huffed with a stamp of his feet. “Rejected! Bring me another gift!” he demanded and whapped the boy over the head with the beetle. The boy screamed as the insect’s wings flapped against his scalp and its spindly legs tangled in his hair. He dropped the pinecone and ran off with thick, globby tears running down his ruddying cheeks. 

Tooru watched him flee with a glower, then looked back to the line of other kindergartners. Several of them broke free with alarmed squeals, presumably out of fear that their gifts would not please Tooru. The beetle continued to buzz pathetically in his fist as he stared expectantly at the remaining crowd, daring the next to present their offering. 

Tooru was a bit miffed to find that most of the gifts were no better than the pinecone, forcing the unsuccessful subjects to disperse again to rifle around the playground. Tooru stood at the bottom of his jungle gym with his small collection of trinkets.Still holding the beetle (which had accepted its fate and ceased its struggling), he admired the shiny marble, yellow rose, and other baubles he’d been presented with a pleased grin. He frowned when his crown slipped down his head. 

As he straightened up to right it, he noticed a dark-haired boy had approached. He didn’t recognize him as someone who had presented him with a gift yet, so he plastered a regal smile on his face and turned to him. 

“What do you have for me?” he asked in a sing-song voice, waggling his head and making the crown flop a little on his poofy hair. The smile fell from his face when the boy’s face morphed into a scowl. 

“I ain’t got jack for you!” he asserted and pointed his finger at Tooru, making him gasp in affront. “Where do you get off, orderin’ everyone around? Knock it off!” 

Tooru threw his beetle at him, but it just bounced harmlessly off the dissenter’s chest. Tooru’s face paled as the boy simply watched the beetle flop down on its back, rocking pitifully in an attempt to right itself. The boy sniffed and used the toe of his sneaker to flip the beetle over; it flapped its wings experimentally but was too tired to fly after suffering Tooru’s lordship, so it trundled off as fast as its six stick-like legs would allow. 

“I’m the king of the playground!” Tooru insisted. “Who are you to defy me?!” 

“My name’s Hajime Iwaizumi!” the boy declared, digging his fists into his hip and puffing out his chest. A small crowd was gathering around them, some of the students still holding their pitiful attempts at offerings. They ogled at Hajime with wide, moony eyes, and Tooru didn’t like how they were looking at him— like he was their knight in shining armor. “I ain’t takin’ orders from some prissy boy.” 

“Prissy boy?” Tooru gasped, a flush of red spreading quickly up his neck to paint up to his forehead in a crimson hue. “I’ll show you who’s a prissy boy!” With a grunt, he stomped up to one of his classmates, who was clutching a large tree limb that he had intended to give Tooru. Tooru wrenched it from his hands and held it up like a sword, clenching his teeth when he wobbled a little under its weight. He rounded on Hajime and brandished the big stick threateningly. 

“That looks a little heavy for ya,” Hajime sneered, and Tooru blanched at the fact he didn’t seem threatened at all. Hajime’s expression morphed into shock, however, when Tooru released a loud screech and charged him with the stick hefted over his head. Hajime scuttled out of the way, and Tooru slammed the branch down where he had been standing just a few seconds ago. Growling, Tooru picked up the stick again, swaying at the disbalanced weight held over his head, and ran after Hajime with a feral yowl. 

“What’s your problem?!” Hajime cried while he dashed for the oak tree in the corner, presumably to find himself a suitable weapon. 

“It’s a king’s duty to destroy his enemies!” Tooru shouted after him. Hajime jumped when the stick crashed right behind his heels, then scrambled on his hands and knees to grab a large limb resting among the roots. He rolled onto his back and thrusted out the stick, holding it horizontally, just in time to block Tooru’s next blow. Growling through clenched teeth, they glared at each other between the crossed sticks. Hajime then pushed Tooru away and, while the brunet stumbled around the roots to avoid falling, he climbed to his feet with a huff. 

“You ain’t no king, prissy boy!” he snapped before swinging his stick at Tooru. The brunet parried it with a grunt, knocking it away. “I’m gonna knock you off that throne!” 

Tooru squeaked as Hajime began whacking at him with the stick, and it was all he could do to block the blows. The crowd had followed them to the tree, and were now jeering and crowing at the dramatic schoolyard fight. Tooru grew irritated as a rhythmic cry of “Ha-ji-me, Ha-ji-me!” rose up; how dare they defy their benevolent king! He was going to show them, that was for sure!

He clambered up onto a particularly thick root, and then leaped off it with a resounding howl. Hajime let out a strangled squeak as Tooru plowed right into him. His knees slammed into Hajime’s stick, snapping it right in half and sending the useless stubs tumbling into the detritus. Tooru straddled Hajime’s waist and bore his weight down on him, leaving the ravenet to wiggle angrily beneath him.

“Who’s the tough guy now?” he teased, poking him in the cheek with the business end of his stick. He shouldn’t have let his apparent victory go to his head so soon, however. 

With a snarl, Hajime managed to snatch the stick away from him and whack him upside the head. The crowd let out a sickened yet excited “Ooooooh!” as it cracked against Tooru’s skull, sending the crown askew over his brow. Hajime used Tooru’s momentary shock to start wrestling with him. 

“You know, you talk a lot of smack for a prissy boy!” Hajime barked while he slapped at Tooru. The brunet winced as Hajime’s blunt nails dug into his cheek, scoring four parallel scratches into his skin. Tooru yelped as Hajime flipped him over, and he writhed underneath the boy’s weight. Both of them had their hands twisted into the fabric of the other’s tee-shirts as they wriggled about. That stupid cheer rang in Tooru’s ears, “Ha-ji-me, Ha-ji-me!”, and made his blood boil in his veins. 

“Stop calling me a prissy boy!” Tooru hissed, using a momentary burst of strength to flip Hajime underneath him once again. “My name is Tooru! Too-ru Oi-ka-wa!” Hajime responded by wrenching the flower crown off his head and crumpling it in his fist, which made Tooru screech in anger. 

“I don’t care what your name is! You’re a bossy prissy boy, and I ain’t gonna follow your orders!” Hajime snapped, throwing the crumpled flowers and snapped twigs away before grabbing a fistful of Tooru’s hair. Tooru screeched like a cat as Hajime tugged repeatedly at his fluffy locks. Tooru responded in kind by digging his finger into the corner of Hajime’s mouth and tugging as hard as he could. Hajime’s angry yell was garbled as Tooru stretched his lip and cheek painfully. 

The crowd around them had grown even more gleeful with the violence, stamping their feet and screaming at the top of their lungs. They probably didn’t even care who won; they just wanted to keep watching Tooru and Hajime scrap in the dirt like a pair of feral dogs. Unfortunately, all the cacophony finally alerted the teacher’s that the “game” had devolved into a schoolyard brawl. They burst through the gaggle of children to snatch Hajime and Tooru up by the backs of their collars. The boys still tried to swipe and kick at each other even while they were held several feet apart. After realizing he wouldn’t be able to reach Hajime, he crossed his arms and hunched up in the teacher’s grip while they were carried back inside. 

Hajime and Tooru gave each other stink-eyes while the principal lectured them for the fight. They were punished by sitting out the rest of recess in detention in the middle of the school office, kneeling on the hardwood floor while the secretaries strutted around them handling their paperwork. It was mind-numbingly boring, just listening to the clacks of their heels echoing through the small halls. His gaze slowly slunk over to Hajime, who was pouting at the floor. 

“Ya know, you’re pretty tough,” he said, filling the silence that had settled between them. Hajime’s gaze snapped to him, suspicious and hard as iron. “Why don’t you be my knight?” 

“You got a huge ego, prissy boy,” Hajime snorted, and Tooru’s lips curled down into a frown. “What part of ‘I ain’t takin’ orders from you’ ain’t gettin’ through that thick skull o’yours?” Hajime straightened his back and turned up his nose, fingers digging into the fabric of his shorts. “I don’t take orders from nobody!” 

Though Hajime kind of pissed him off, Tooru also admired the sheer confidence oozing from him. He knew then that he had to be friends with him, even if Hajime didn’t necessarily want it. A sneer bloomed on his lips as he scooted closer to Hajime, making the dark-haired boy look at him in slight disgust. “What are ya lookin’ at me like that for?” 

“I like you.” 

“Ew! You really are a prissy boy!” Hajime growled, but didn’t recoil— he was smirking, almost like he was amused by Tooru’s bluntness. “So what? I don’t like you!” 

“Sure ya do!” Tooru beamed, and Hajime just gave him a weary look. Tooru wiggled back and forth on his legs, gradually growing more pleased with Hajime’s presence as he realized how interesting he was. “Okay then, since I like you, how about this? We can both be kings of the playground! How about that?” 

Hajime’s eyebrows turned up at this, poking out his lips in a thoughtful pout. What five-year-old boy could resist the promise of power and lordship over his peers? A sneer appeared on Hajime’s lips, and Tooru could see the desire welling up inside of him. The ravenet turned to offer him a bright grin and held out his hand to shake. 

“All right, then. As long as I don’t have to take any crappy orders from you.” Tooru’s smile was bright as he grabbed Hajime’s hand to shake, sealing their pact of partnership. This is gonna be a lot of fun! He thought with a happy wiggle, and then gasped in horror. 

“Oh no! I left all my pretty gifts outside…” 

“Well,” Hajime said, a downright diabolical lilt to his grin, “we’ll just have to make our servants get us more, huh?” 

So, that’s how they found themselves sitting at the top of the jungle gym the following afternoon with flower crowns resting upon their brows and their subjects scrambling around to find them suitable gifts. That dumb boy had tried to give them pinecones again, and he’d run off crying when Hajime had ripped it apart with his bare hands. Tooru had watched him in utter adoration, eyes sparkling like stars as Hajime crumbled the crunchy pinecone in his hands. 

“Ya know,” Tooru hummed in contentment as he banged a new stick against the bars of the jungle gym, each hit punctuated by a metallic ring, “I think we’re gonna be great friends!” 

“Hah?” Hajime snorted, looking at him in disdain. “I already told ya, I don’t like ya!” He scrunched up his face to emphasize his disgust, but the bright pink coloring his cheeks betrayed him. Tooru crooned as he rested his chin on Hajime’s shoulders, steadfast despite Hajime’s attempts to shove him off. “Damn prissy boy,” the boy grumbled, giving up on trying to push Tooru away and resuming his grumping at the top of the jungle gym. 

They were a pair of kings, and they’d one day rule the world together, Tooru thought with a smile.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[dcbbw]

Would you ever 📝 AU Romance. Riley having a pregnancy scare or how would Liam would react?

@gkittylove99!!! THIS ASK! THIS.ASK. I have to thank my pre-readers and idea bouncers @sirbeepsalot, @burnsoslow, and @ao719. And to all the folks I sent random snippets to, thank you for not thinking I was crazy!

Warnings for this full-blown fic: Slightly NSFW, Frank discussion of pregnancy termination

I awaken to feel Liam’s weight pressed against my back. His palms cover the backs of my hands as his cock sits in my center, throbbing and twitching.

“Are you awake yet?” His breath, warm and stale, tickles the back of my neck.

I respond by arching my hips upwards; I feel his groin  grind against me as he alternates his thrusts between teasingly slow and hard and rough. His teeth scrape my skin between groans of: “Throw that pussy at me,” and “You like how this dick feels?”

The head of his cock is pressed against my spot and I cry out as I release over his shaft; the pillow muffles it. Shortly thereafter, I feel his orgasm splashing against my still clenching walls. He pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

We start every morning with some form of sex. Sometimes it’s oral for me, a blowjob in front of the bedroom mirror for him, or intercourse. It’s always vanilla; we save the kinky for the nighttime.

I stay laying on my stomach; I have been tired lately. And unfocused. I think I need vitamins, maybe an iron supplement. Liam’s voice rouses me, and I turn my head to look at him.

“You need to get up, Riley. It’s time for your shower.”

“I don’t feel good,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a cold?”

I shake my head. “I just don’t feel good.”

He gives me an odd look before speaking. “I’ll make you some tea and arrange to telework today.”

And then he rises naked from the bed, leaving me alone in the room.

One Week Later

It’s Wednesday, and I am in the office. Chase and Penelope have gone to make the Starbucks run before staff meeting. I didn’t order anything; I am still queasy and it’s strongest in the morning. I feel even more rundown, and there is some heartburn. I am booting up my laptop when my desk phone rings. It’s Lynn, my boss.

“Hey! Come back here and talk to me,” she requests in her signature cheery tone.

I tell her to give me two minutes and hang up. The phone rings again. “Need me to bring you anything?” I answer, sure it’s her again. But it’s Liam.

“Don’t order a car this evening. My car will pick you up at 4:30.”

I stare stupidly at my screen. “Why?”

“You’ll find out.” And the call is disconnected.

I feel uncertainty twist my already roiling stomach as I head into Lynn’s cubicle. She looks up at me, a bright smile on her face. Her hair is in loose waves and falls just past her shoulders; her skin is clear with a rosy glow.

“You look great!” I compliment her. “How do you feel?”

Lynn is entering her fifth month of pregnancy. It’s her fourth; she’s carrying twins.

“Thanks! I feel like I’m hauling around a pod of whales. Sperm whales,” she giggles at her pun.

I offer her a weak smile as I sit in the only empty chair in her cubicle. She frowns slightly. “Was that HR offensive?” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t know and too fat to care.”

I shake my head slightly. “You’re fine.”

She begins to dig into a styrofoam container that holds her breakfast: corned beef hash, sausage links, grits, potatoes, toast, and sunny-side up eggs. The sights and smells turn my stomach even more. As she eats, Lynn prattles about her weekend, possibly hiring a new person to help Coco in IT, and maybe putting together an employee handbook.

I say nothing because if I open my mouth, the water and yogurt I had earlier may come up. Noticing my silence, Lynn looks up me; her eyes are critical as she studies me.

“Riley, are you okay? You look … listless.”

“I’m fine!” I force myself to respond cheerfully. “Just a little tired.”

One of her hands rests lightly against her burgeoning belly; the other firmly grips her fork as she drags it through hash, grits, and egg yolk. “Go home. Get some rest for the remainder of the week.”

“I’m fine,” I protest.

“Then go home and get even better. Answer a couple of emails, take a call and you won’t have to use your leave.” She speaks around mouthfuls of food.

My eyes fall to her belly. “Do you have names for the babies yet?”

“Peanut butter and Jelly.” She sees my surprised expression. “There’s a story there, but it’s definitely NSFW. I’m not dealing with HR today.”

She waves her hand at me in a “shoo” motion. “Go home! See you Monday.”

I rise from the chair and make my way slowly back to my desk. I shut down the laptop. I pick up my desk phone and call Liam.

“What?” His tone is curt. I wonder if he’s busy or doesn’t want to hear from me.

“I’m leaving work now. I’m off until Monday.”

A pause before he speaks. I hear papers being shuffled and him typing on his keyboard. “Call the car, go to the penthouse. Shower. Don’t answer the door for anyone, don’t be a Nosy Parker, and I’ll be there shortly.”

And he hangs up.

Once inside the penthouse, I wander around before I shower. It’s rare Liam leaves me alone here; I find it feels strange without his presence. The quiet sounds different, the sun slants through the windows at an altered angle. The stovetop and counters gleam in the bright kitchen; usually both are filled with pots and pans and food in various stages of preparation. I open the refrigerator; there is a platter of homemade meatballs, perfectly rolled and shaped and filled with onions and peppers, ready to be cooked for our dinner tonight. I wonder what else we’ll have.

As I cross back through the living room, I look up at the staircase; only when Liam requests me in his study do I venture into the upper level of the penthouse. There’s a study, home gym, full bathroom, guest room, and the only ingress/egress to the outdoor space upstairs.

I keep walking until I reach the bedroom. I pass Liam’s chest of drawers and frown; one of the drawers isn’t fully closed. I set my phone on top of the furniture and place my palm against the gleaming wood to push it close, but I hesitate. I wonder what’s inside. I look around, even though I know I am the only person in the house.

I’m going to be a Nosy Parker.

I pull the drawer open cautiously and peer inside: neatly folded stacks of boxer shorts in white and black greet me. Next to them are wife beaters, also in white and black, and short-sleeved undershirts in white. There is a wooden tray on the right-hand side of the drawer; it’s mostly cufflinks and tie clips, but I see two photographs, face down. I look at them curiously; just as my fingers reach out to touch them, my phone rings.

I jump and let out a small yell before pushing the drawer shut and looking at my caller ID. I don’t recognize the number; I toss the phone onto the bed before stripping and entering the shower. By the time Liam arrives home, I am wearing his robe and wrapped in a blanket on the living room sofa. There is a talk show on the television. He stands in the doorway looking at me, carrying a brown paper bag. It smells delicious.

And I am now starving.

His eyes look me over as he passes me the food; it’s a grilled cheese sandwich and cup of tomato soup with basil. I look at him gratefully before I bite ravenously into the gooey, melted cheese and hot buttered bread. The cheese melts against my tongue; a droplet of butter rolls from my lower lip down my chin.

Liam sits next to me; he turns the television off.

“You’re feeling better?”

I am drinking savory soup directly from the container. “I’m still tired, but my nausea has passed.”

He nods thoughtfully. “You haven’t used your supplies this month, Riley.”

The sandwich is at my lips, but my mouth does not open. I’m trying to calculate the last time I had my period. Liam watches me for a few seconds before speaking.

“You’re 10 days late, Riley.”

I stare at him, struggling to come to terms with what this meant. Or could mean. Even the most regular women were sometimes late due to hormones or something.

But I was sick in the mornings. I was fatigued constantly.

The image of Lynn’s hand on her pregnant belly flashes through my mind.

I set my food down; my mouth is suddenly dry. “What … what if I am?”

“Pregnant?” Liam asks as he stands, then makes his way to the television set. He stands there, arms folded across his chest. His burgundy tie is blood against the crisp, white shirt he wears.

I nod slowly.

“You’ll get rid of it.” His tone is calm, matter-of-fact.

A coldness spreads from my belly to chill my entire body. I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. “No,” I whisper. “IF I am, it’s my body!”

“But my child. I don’t want children, Riley.”

“Then you should’ve taken better precautions!” I yell as I stand and get in his face. The robe falls open. I am naked beneath it, but Liam isn’t looking at my body.

“YOU said you were on birth control!” His voices thunders throughout the apartment. He takes a deep breath as he composes himself.

“However, I should have ensured that no … accidents could occur. I’ll be rectifying that situation.”

My eyes search his. He returns my gaze, his eyes steady. How could he be so callous, so cold towards a possible life he helped create?

“I’m not getting rid of our baby. This isn’t something you can throw money at to make it go away, Liam!”

He looks at me incredulously. “It’s a BABY! I will ALWAYS BE THROWING MONEY AT IT!” He shakes his head. “Best to make a one-time payment and be done with it.” He looks at me with hard, dark eyes. “And you either get rid of it or give it up. Those are your only options, Riley. You can’t have us both.”

He steps around me, headed for the stairway that leads upstairs. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”

The heels of his shoes tap against hardwood as he jogs up the stairs. And I am alone.

All alone.

I look around and my glance falls on my lunch. I gather it and take it into the kitchen; I watch red liquid splash against the stainless steel of the sink as I pour the soup out. I wrap the sandwich in its paper, put it back inside its bag, and ball the whole thing up before tossing it in the trash.

Back in the living room, I straighten the sofa cushions and fold my blanket; I carry the blanket with me to the bedroom. I place it back inside the closet; I look at my clothing. Clothing that Liam bought. My fingertips run across the various fabrics: silk, wool, cotton; it causes the hangers to tinkle against each other.

I am standing at the window, the robe belted tightly around my waist, when I hear Liam’s voice behind me. He says I have a doctor’s appointment Friday morning to determine if I am indeed pregnant. I say nothing as my eyes stay fixed on sunlight glinting off the East River, barely visible behind buildings of stone and steel.

I feel him behind me; I smell his cologne and hear his breathing. I feel tears prick my eyes.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whisper.

“I don’t,” he answers softly.

His arms come around my waist and I feel his face drop into my hair. Then he steps away. “Dinner in an hour.”

“I’m not hungry.”

His footsteps pause. “You should eat.” And then he is gone.

That night, we do not have sex, but we do the next morning. We then spend the remainder of the day avoiding each other and not speaking.

I sit on his ridiculously oversized bed, chin resting on my knees, wondering what I will do if I am pregnant. I have my job; I have the alimony from Maxwell. I would need to find a bigger apartment, a two-bedroom at least.

I would not ask Liam for any child support, nor would I accept it if offered.

Friday morning, we are sitting in a doctor’s office. I fill out paperwork and give the receptionist my insurance information. Liam sits in a chair, an ankle resting on a thigh while he reads a magazine. When my name is called, he walks with me into the examination room.

The nurse is cheerful; she asks me questions that I answer in a dull tone.

No, I have never been pregnant before.

My period is now two weeks late.

The nausea is worse in the morning. I also have heartburn.

No pain.

Liam’s eyes stay fixed on me.

The nurse draws blood; I go to the bathroom to pee in a cup. And we wait.

The doctor comes in 20 minutes later. I am not pregnant. But she wants to do an ultrasound. I feel relief, sadness, and fear. I look at Liam, but his expression is stoic, giving nothing away. I agree to the ultrasound.

There is cool gel. Pictures of my insides show up on a screen. There are white spots on my right side.

I have gallstones; that is why I am nauseous and have heartburn and fatigue.

My surgery is scheduled for a month from Monday.

Liam asks if there is anything that can help relieve my discomfort for the next month. He inquires about foods and drinks to avoid. But he doesn’t look at the doctor when he asks his questions.

He is squatting in front of me, his thumb brushing my cheek while his eyes hold mine captive.

The doctor answers as she scribbles on paper: Ibuprofen to help with pain, and I need to limit my dairy, fats, grease, and fried foods.

At the reception desk, Liam pays the co-pay costs. The receptionist smiles at him. “Dr. Marion will see you Wednesday. Did you receive your paperwork?”

Liam nods, and tells her he will return it no later than Monday before he takes my hand as we walk to the elevator. I want to pull away because I don’t think he would be holding my hand if I were pregnant.

He won.

But I let my hand stay wrapped with his.

“Who’s Dr. Marion?” I ask.

“My urologist.”

“Is it a routine visit?”

I feel my stomach sour even though I haven’t eaten anything.

The elevator car arrives, and we board. He pushes the button to take us to the lobby. His eyes stay fixed on the metal doors as we begin our descent downstairs.

“I’m getting a vasectomy.”

And he says nothing else.

Tagging: @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @queenrileyrose @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @ritachacha @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @cordonianroyalty @superharriet

   #tw discussion of pregnancy termination #tw slightly ns*w #dcbbw answers #UnRomance AU ask #liam x riley #this isn’t Cordonia

[trashinaglass-archive]

Just Jokes

Request: Would you write a Harry X Reader where she's staying with them for quarantine and the boys keep pranking her (idk like egging her or stealing her clothes) and they don't realise she's getting fed up so she ends up losing it and Harry feels bad that he didn't see how it was getting to his girlfriend?

A/n: Egging is so mean omg😂 I didn’t include the actual pranking part bc I’m really bad at it, not gonna lie

I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS SORRY IF THERE ARE GOOFS😂😂

Gif is not mine, I got it from google bc tumblr doesn’t want to supply any freaking gifs of him

“I’m gonna kill your brother,” you announce as you sit next to Harry. “And his dumb sidekick.” You wrapped the towel around your body a little tighter as a chill ran through you, wet hair dripping on the bed as he laughs softly.

“What for?”

“They’ve been messing with me all week. I couldn’t find any of my clothes, but I happen to look out the window and they’re in the freaking garden. And I just got out of the shower! What am I supposed to do, walk around naked?”

“Wouldn’t hurt my feelings,” he smirked. You looked at him, unamused. “I’m joking.” He rubbed your back, assuring that he understood your frustrations. “I’ll go talk to them. You can grab something of mine to wear, if you want.”

You watch as he walks through the door, a hand ruffling his hair before turning to look at you one more time. A small smile crossed his face as he grabbed the door knob and pulled the door closed, giving you some privacy. You huffed out a breath, trying to force some of the anger to leave your body, but it doesn’t seem to help. Standing up, you look through the closet and pull out a jumper, letting the cozy material warm you up. You slide on a pair of pants and make your way downstairs, ready to face the mischievous boys.

“Bro, we’re just having fun,” you hear Tom’s voice as you approach the kitchen, stopping short so they don’t notice you. “It’s been a month now, with nothing to do.”

“Yeah, we need something to pass the time,” Harrison laughs.

You roll your eyes, of course it’s just fun to them. “I don’t know,” Tuwaine spoke up. “You guys can be horrible some times.”

Thank you you mouth, raking you hands through your hair in frustration before crossing them across your chest again.

A scoff came from someone’s mouth before Tom’s voice came again. “She just needs to learn how to loosen up.”

“Loosen up?!” You yell, turning the corner to look at the boys. All four boys jump, eyes wide as you startle them. “You’ve been treating me like shit. My clothes are in the fucking dirt, what do you mean ‘loosen up’? Those stains aren’t coming out, some of those clothes have to be dry-cleaned. And that’s just today. Not everyone wants to do this stupid prank crap. Why not prank each other if you’re so bored? Why do you insist on taking it out on me?”

Harrison looked at you in sympathy. “Y/n, we did mean-“ he started to say before you cut him off.

“‘We didn’t mean to upset you, we didn’t mean for it to come off that way.’ You never mean anything, but you always do it because you’re assholes with nothing better to do than be fucking bullies to the one girl in this house.” You storm off, returning to Harry’s room to be by yourself.

You can’t help turning around to make one last dig. “That’s why you can’t get laid, you worthless dicks!” You stomp back to the room, slamming Harry’s bedroom door shut.

The group of boys stood in silence, not sure what to do or say. “Told you she was mad,” Harry said, not looking up from the table he sat at.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? She never said anything,” Harrison argued.

“You can’t keep blaming her for the things you do to her,” Tuwaine cut in. “She’s right. If you have to pass your time with pranks, do it against someone who wants to participate. Otherwise it’s just mean.”

“And she’s not one for confrontation, you know that,” Harry added. “She wouldn’t just walk up and tell you to stop.”

The boys sat at the table, thinking about how angry you sounded. “I guess we should go apologize,” Tom sighed. He looked to his younger brother wondering if it would be a good idea or not.

Harry shook his head, “give her to the morning to calm down. She’s probably rehearsed a million new things to yell at you for by now.”

“Yeah, I don’t care to hear her yelling about my dick being useless again,” Harrison muttered, his hand moving down unconsciously to adjust himself. The other three boys laughed.

“Well, I’m gonna go check on y/n,” Harry announced, standing up. “She likes pancakes if you’re planning a ‘forgive me’ present.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Harrison nodded.

Tom nodded in agreement, “yeah, Harrison will keep that in mind.”

“Whatever. Useless dicks,” Harry joked as he turned to walk away. Laughing, he heard the two boys shouting at him as Tuwaine laughed along with him.

Once he approached the bedroom door, he knocked softly to let you know he was there. He opened the door and found you on lying on the edge of the bed, under the covers. He made his way over, climbing on the bed next to you. “Any other words?” He asked, giving you the chance to rant some more.

“Nah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize they were doing much or that you were that angry with them.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t do it.”

“Yeah, but I probably could’ve prevented it. Or at least made it not as bad.”

You laughed quietly. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll get theirs.”

. . .

The smell of breakfast hit you as you made your way to the kitchen, finding Harrison cooking breakfast while Tom stood next to the counter chatting with him. You quietly make your way to the counter to start a cup of tea.

“Morning, y/n,” Tom said with a smile as he noticed you. Harrison followed suit, repeating after Tom. You smiled at them, but didn’t give more than a quiet morning back. “So, about last night. I’m sorry, me and Haz both, we were just trying to have fun- which isn’t an excuse, but we didn’t realize you were that upset.”

You listened as you moved to the seat behind Tom, placing your mug to steep as you continued walking, opening the pantry. Grabbing the peanut butter, you turn to make sure both the boys were facing away from you.

“Yeah,” Harrison cut in. “It was just stupid. We really thought you would find it funny, and you would start pranking us back.”

“It’s fine,” you told them, grabbing a handful of peanut butter in both hands. “Boys will be boys.” You walked to where they stood, simultaneously shoving the peanut butter in both their faces.

Tom and Harrison yell out in shock and confusion as they wipe their faces. “And if you mess with me again, I’m shaving your heads in your sleep,” you threaten, cleaning your hands with a towel then handing it to the closest boy. “Thanks for the pancakes though.”

[achubbydumpling]

what do you think about these pictures? maybe not quite as skinny anymore... 👀

ahhh well you're in luck anon because I was just talking with @wotvagyok about that and I typed up a whole wall of text about a fun feedism vacation :D

honestly I'm just happy we're getting happy Seb pictures, but also I'd be very happy if he maybe over-compensated a bit after losing weight for the Tommy Lee role.. maybe going way overboard at the hotel buffet and then still go out to dinner with his girlfriend after.....

and the next morning he gets up at 6 am to head to breakfast... and then he wakes up with his girlfriend again at 9 am to eat breakfast

then brunch with friends, maybe mimosas or cocktails because they're celebrating?

ahh just happy vacation Seb /way/ over-indulging, he packs on all the weight he's lost for the Tommy Lee role within two weeks

they have tapas for brunch, sooo many small dishes Seb just can't keep track of how many he finishes, but when he looks down his belly sticks out and grumbles angrily, so he rubs his knuckles into the sides to ease some of the cramps, good thing his cocktail is still half-full, the alcohol should help make him more relaxed

after brunch they just spend two hours lazing around lying on those lounge chairs by the beach, maybe Seb reads a bit, maybe he's a bit too tipsy to really concentrates and mostly just rubs his little distented belly

at 2 pm he gets a text from Ale asking if he wants to get lunch soon because she's starting to feel hungry, it's been five hours for her since she's last eaten, it's barely been two for Seb, well, he's been snacking on some bar peanuts, but those don't really count, right?

he goes out to lunch with his girlfriend, she orders a salad, he orders two appetizers, insists he isn't that hungry, but when he's finished with the pimientos de padrón drenched in oil and the plate of bruschetta with fresh olive oil, he actually wishes he'd gotten a main course too, but then the waiter offers them the dessert menu and Seb orders a portion of flan and some churros too

he thinks he'll probably have to share with Ale, but she just eats one spoonful of the flan, at this point Seb is back to feeling as overstuffed and crampy as he did after brunch, but a few more hours in the sun should ease the cramping and ache in his stomach

the food is well worth that bit of pain

and the bit of weight gain too, he mostly wears his slightly too big board shorts, low on his hips so they don't restrict his belly at all when it's bloated and stuffed

so he doesn't even notice how much weight he packs on in just two weeks of vacation, he thinks he's just bloated from being full all the time

he doesn't actually have any meals during the afternoon, but the lounge chairs he chose for Ale and him to relax on, are right next to the pool bar, so he keeps up a steady stream of sugary, sweet cocktails and the little bowl of nut mix and chips is refilled too many times for him to count

Ale goes swimming while Seb just lies back and enjoys the continued buzz he has going on and the sun warming his belly and keeping it content and relaxed, so it doesn't cramp up at all the drinks and snacks he's consuming

man, I have so many thots about Seb on vacation after seeing those pictures.....

He planned on going to dinner with Ale, but a director he worked with a few years ago heard that they were in the same country, so he wants to meet up for an early meal, avoid the dinner rush

Seb heads out to meet that director, he doesn't tell Ale it's a dinner meeting, probably forgets about it because he's still feeling tipsy

at the dinner he orders the paella he had his eyes on over lunch and it's as good as he thought it would taste, the director is surprised when Seb doesn't order dessert as well, he's well known for his sweet tooth on set, carrying around granola, protein bars and nut butter to satisfy his sweet cravings when he has to stay in shape,

but he should indulge on vacation, right?

so of course when the director lays it out like that Seb orders some ponche segoviano, the slice is way bigger than he anticipated, but the rich and sweet marzipan keeps him digging his spoon into the cake until there is nothing left

when Ale wants to get dinner later that night he orders the same thing, his memory a bit fuzzy after sharing two bottles of wine between with the director after already being tipsy from the afternoon cocktails and brunch mimosas

he cradles his belly the entire way back to their hotel room, presses his knuckles into his sides, tries to force the food down from where it's pushing up against his lungs

he crawls into bed right away and half-watches a movie while his girlfriend falls asleep next to him

but before he does the same, he slips out from under the covers and gets one of the twix bars in the room's mini fridge, just a little something sweet to help him go to sleep

ein Betthupferl (for the Germans following me :D)

and tomorrow that whole routine starts over again

that sounds like a fun vacation, no? :)