#i dunno I can't get enough of their banter

[hislittleraincloud]

✨San Francisco Haul✨

SNS for shit pix (my elderlies were trying to sleep).

I had to go into the city for a doctor's appointment and was too tired to think. All of this 💩 w the Cat Bitch just stressed me out so I got a bunch of stickers and sugar to heal my soul. Yeah, I collect stickers... I'm turning 50 this year too, what of it. 💀 They're scratch n' sniff. Couldn't pass over those. I like my new Pez dispensers...Imma eat out of Marilyn's tits apparently. Kinda wish it was just her head though.

LOVE my new Jairo notebook. 😃 And my little Toki monkey... it's the blind I wanted (on sale at It'Sugar) 🫴🏽🐒🍌💖✨

But Tor, why are you getting a new Jairo notebook if you're almost done with the fic?

...*crawls out from under a heavy tome of Jairo fic, throws a couple pages up in the air and runs...again*

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[sanspuppet]

it'd be so funny if u wrote a fic where u tap on the tip of woos dick as if it was a mic while saying "is this thing on?"

OK SO I HAD THIS STUCK IN MY HEAD THE ENTIRE DAY-

- nsfw content (18+)

W/T: oral sex, handjob (both giving), swearing

• not proofread so sorry any mistakes

A/O: still kinda sick but i don't want you to wait longer, also im being very slow at writing lately i dunno why :/ im currently working on another req and the maknae line of the imagine "ateez when you fuck then for the first time" so yeah i have a lot to work on

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

"fuuuck y/n- please-" Wooyoung throws his head back, looking at the ceiling to concentrate only on the feeling of your hands grabbing his cock. He squeezes his eyes, his fingers tightening the fabric of the sheets. Pathetic hushed whimpers keep leaving his mouth as you rub your thumb at the base of his length, joyfully watching Woo getting desperate for more touch. A minimal contact between you and his crotch made him insanely impatient to have you work up his dick, as good as you always did: by now you had pleasured him hundreds of times, that you perfectly know which spots have Woo twitching under your touch. You giggle when you hike your hand up his length and jokingly tap the tip of it, bringing your face closer and banter right in front of his cockhead: "is thing on?" like it's a mic, your mic, you own it, using it however and whenever you want. He immediately replies with a high pitched moan: "Ah- yes! fuck it's turned on-" his voice tone is getting noticeably yearning especially when you start to slam repeatedly his tip on your lips. Without even warning him, you suddenly move your head down his pelvis, taking his cock fully down your throat, squeezing it with your lips while your tongue tries to get it even wetter. As if it wasn't enough for getting Woo's mind completely foggy, totally addicted to how warm and tight your mouth feels, you drag your hand down his balls, palming and massaging them carefully as you raise your head to lick only his tip. "Oh shit- i'm close- so fucking close-" you instinctively move your palm on his length and start to stroke it quickly, giving him the perfect last friction that could get him over the edge, to his climax, giving him another enchanting orgasm. "Yes babe, come on..." you attach your lips to his cockhead another time "... cum on my face, paint me good" he's now a whimpers and moans mess, the pleasure's dazzling his mind that the only thing he can do about is praising you and begging you to don't stop. You can't do anything but giggling mischievously while speeding your pace up and watch joyfully how his dick keeps swirling and twisting under your gaze. And then, it happens. Ropes of cum shooting right at your face, drops and drops falling down your chin, licking away what lands on your lips. You looked at him intensely, like you'd want to devour him countless of times. "Being so nice for me Woo, but we're not done yet, you know it, right?"

[hawtlineblingz]

☁️ CLOUD'S MOODBOARD ☁️

I was never the same person after FFVII Rebirth, i need to get rid of my Cloud brainrots. So here is some BF Cloud headcanons (god help me i need him in my life) ...

As we all know, deepdown Cloud is a goofball by heart. Friendly banter, silly inner jokes that only you two could understand is not new.

Prefer to have dates with less people.

Surprisingly not shy with PDA, just normal ones like handholdings, would rest his hand on your shoulder or back, etc.

Took you out with Fenrir; Nicely polished. His back seat served only for you.

Babysitting dates! Amusement park / arcade, the four of you; You, Cloud, Denzel, and Marlene. Would give them everything he got in trade for Marlene and Denzel's smile, something he wishes to have when he was younger.

Denies so hard when you tell him he's actually good at tending kids. The pink hue on his cheeks and ears can't lie tho.

Quiet bold in private, isn't afraid to initiate things once he's comfortable enough with you, pulling you on his lap when he's feeling a bit touch starved; only SOMETIMES he can malfunctioned after he make a move on you.

Easily worried type of BF.

OBSERVANT.

Loves tiny matching items.

Bro is a slow kisser.

Comfy silence is common with him around, just you doing your own thing and him doing his own thing. In the same room at the same time, aka PARALLEL PLAY is his type of quality time.

Would let you yap about your hyperfixations no matter what it is.

Try his best to love you correctly. His past doesn't allow him to feel things, often felt numb before he met you. When actually he has so much love to give to the people around him. Secretly teared up when he thinks about how many chances you gave him trough out the relationship, despite he is in the process of healing himself.

"You're not funny." he lied. He loves how corny your jokes is sometimes, brings smile to his face when he's alone.

The way he calms you down when things aren't going your way. Cloud does not talk alot but he has his ways to make sure you know he would always be there for you even when the world isn't on your side.

HIS. DATE. FITS. ACTUALLY. ATE. "Where did you learned to style your fits like this Cloud?", "dunno, magazines? I think? i hope i don't look wierd."

smitten eyes.

Hates it when you "bro" him (lykyk).

"I AIN'T YOUR BRO".

His phone gallery is most likely filled pics of your candids, Marlene, Denzel, baby chocobos, Fenrir, and the most random stuff ever. "Cloud, why'd you kept a pic of our electric fan?", "honestly...i don't remember."

Cloud cosplay pictures are from @_allixter_ on TikTok. Go check out his account!

[lovemyromance]

Azriel, the "entitled incel" of the Bat Boys

So I started laughing my head off as soon as I typed the title for this post. Because it's honestly so, so ridiculous this is even an argument people are using against Elriel.

Let's take a quick trip down memory lane, because people are calling Azriel entitled because of the following excerpt:

This man, is so desperately obsessed with Elain, that he is questioning his religion, their GOD (The Cauldron) on why the woman he loves was given to another. He is tortured over it, losing sleep thinking about it.

How does that scream entitlement? Is it because he says the "third sister was given to another"? Because Rhys assumes "You believe you deserve to be her mate?"

Azriel did not even consider the possibility of a future with Elain because she already has a mate. Not because he's only lusting after her, but because he is convinced that he will not get the woman he loves. He has such low self-esteem and image issues that he doesn't think himself worthy of even touching her skin, and you think he feels entitled to her?

Or is it the fact that you decided he just wants a mate? Nowhere in this bonus chapter does Azriel say he just wants a mate, btw, so not sure where that argument came from. Also, if Azriel just wanted a mate, why tf would he go for the only mated female in his proximity?

Wouldn't he, I dunno, latch onto any available single lady in Velaris over the mated and now forbidden Elain Archeron? I believe a relevant analogy is:

If I had a group of friends I hung out with, all consisting of married couples, basically, and I was the lone single friend. OF COURSE I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE AND OF COURSE I WANT TO BE MARRIED TOO? But....even if I wanted these things so desperately, my first choice for love would not be the married guy in my friend group, whose wife lives far away. Like, no. That's not who I'm going for first, or second, or ever, even.

So then why is Az only showing feelings for Elain? He's had sexual relationships before, why can't he just find someone else, why is he still obsessed with Elain?

Also, the incel thing is such a joke. Yes, he has romantic, sexual thoughts about Elain. And that somehow...makes him disgusting and toxic?

Are we just choosing to ignore Rhys's thoughts about Feyre? How these two mfs nearly risked their lives from a trauma-bargain because they were too horny to show enough self-restraint to not f*ck in the goddamn sky?? Those poor pedestrians of Velaris.

Are we just choosing to ignore Cassian's thoughts about Nesta? Like literally every other sentence from his POV was about her thin frame and massive tits, for ffs. He was absolutely chafing for her 99% of the day. But no one had a problem with that?

Cassian even stated he's jealous of Rhys, what Rhys has with Feyre, their bond. But we just decided to ignore that little tidbit too, huh?

And I know this entire argument is just performative. Because if Azriel had shown any even mildly romantic thoughts about another *ahem* character, that side would be screaming from the rooftops in joy. That's just a guess though, given how much they reacted from just platonic banter and something about sparky glow glow warmth in the bonus chapter. If you give a mouse a cookie, I guess.

Either way, I actually read the books, so Elriel is the only answer for me.

I mean, I thought it was obvious.

[kopivie]

trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

[piningpercussionist]

transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them

YES YES YES

It makes me very happy as well,,

Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.

Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)

And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.

And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.

And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-

I would Kill for them, Your Honor-

(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)

[godtierwallflower]

Given unlimited motivation and time, what is the one fanfic that you would write?

In one of the fillers, there's a flower called the Jofuku flower. It's a medicinal herb Gai uses often.

And importantly, it has a defense mechanism where, when it's plucked, it summons a pollen manifestation of whoever the plucker was thinking of at the time to fight them off.

I had this idea where, while Gai's been in a coma for a while, Kakashi waits by his side and replaces the flowers in his vase. And this time, he decides to go out and get a Jofuku flower for him, and of course what manifests is a pollen clone of Gai.

And the clone doesn't have his personality, but it does have his moveset,

Imagine the sort of feelings Kakashi would have, fighting a clone of Gai to get this flower while real Gai was still comatose. The feelings are indescribably painful. But also, he can't help but almost morbidly look forward to going to get new flowers, because he'd get to see some form of Gai for a bit?

Their fights were so important to them, so integral to their bond over the years. Sparring was one of those ways Kakashi and Gai had always just intrinsically connected.

He can't hear Gai's voice or see Gai's smile or know if he's ever going to again, but he can go to this forest and pluck one of Gai's favorite flowers as an excuse to spar this apparition of Gai. It's disappointing every time, because even though it has Gai's moves, it doesn't have the perfect way Gai can read Kakashi down, and it doesn't have the witty banter or gleam in his eye. It doesn't get frustrated or cocky. It was more hollow than a fight with a henge shadow clone would be, and it just hurts even more.

But every time Kakashi sits by Gai's hospital bed and looks at this lifeless, quiet body that he can hardly believe was once his boisterous friend, he can't help but go back to the forest with thoughts like, "It's supposed to take the form of whoever I'm thinking about, right? Maybe I wasn't think about him hard enough. Maybe this time it'll fight a bit more like him. Maybe this is the closest I'll ever get to seeing any approximation of Gai in motion again. I just have to think about him harder this time, I just have to make the fight last longer this time. This is all I have."

Honestly, there are lots of flowers Gai loved, and a sunflower would probably suit him more on the windowsill. But Kakashi has already decided on getting this flower, and although he could theoretically just replace it with a different flower, he keeps going back to get a Jofuku flower whenever that one needs replacing while Gai is still unconscious, more as an unhealthy form of almost self-harm at that point? Just a desperate attempt to cope with the loneliness of how long it's been since Gai has even moved.

And the emotions spiral from there, I guess?

I dunno. Just a WIP idea I had a while back that would be nice to get the motivation to fully flesh out.

[blueraineshadows]

Heya! 💖

So first of all...I FUCKING LOVE YOUR STUFF!

God, you're a godsend and I really love all your writing. It's all so well written and I can't get enough of it!

So, I dunno if you take any requests, but after hearing this audio (and I think you know exactly what I mean 😏), I can't help but wonder if you'd write a short little FF of Leander and Sebastian getting really drunk or something and they hate-fuck each other, but it's a one time thing and they swear to never talk about it. 🥵

This has been stuck in my head for quite a while and I would love to read it in your style! 💖💖💖

Thank you 💖

Sorry it took a while to get round to it, and I hope this is alright. 🍆🔥🫠 Ao3 link

Sebastian Sallow x Leander Prewett NSFW 🔞

My Secret Desire - Part One

As the last of the customers in the Three Broomsticks began to filter out of the pub, Leander put down his empty mug and yawned, rubbing his face with his hand. His eyes felt blurry, and the alcohol thrummed through his veins. He wasn't usually in the habit of drinking alone, but Garreth was on a date, and Leander was hoping that the dorm would be empty when he got back, Garreth making his moves elsewhere. It was just a reminder of his own failed love life.

It was a long walk back to the castle, and he figured he might sober up on the way rather than take the Floo. As he turned from the bar and made his way to the doors, he almost walked right into someone else and came to a sudden stop, his eyes clashing with a familiar pair of scowling brown eyes. Leander's mouth twisted sourly. "Sallow," he muttered.

He was not in the mood to pick a fight with Sebastian tonight, and made to pass by him, but Sebastian grabbed at his arm, his face leering in close, the stench of whiskey on his breath as he spoke.

"Got a problem, Prewett?" He slurred.

Leander frowned, glancing down at the hand clutching his sleeve and shrugged himself free of Sebastian's grip, an odd shiver going up his back as he did so. "You're drunk, Sallow," he said. He shook his head at him. "You should head back before you get into trouble."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "Didn't know you cared," he mumbled. He pushed his hand through his hair, swaying a little on his feet.

Leander watched Sebastian for a moment, his head clear enough to ponder over his fellow classmate. Sebastian hadn't been the same since his twin had left school, and then he had got caught up with the new 5th year student. While the facts weren't widely known, Leander was sure they had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble. Sebastian had been bitter and mean ever since then, but grief did strange things to people, and it was well known that Sebastian's guardian had died.

With the end of 7th year fast approaching, Leander doubted he would see Sebastian again once they parted ways to begin their new lives. Why should he even care? Though, it would be odd not bickering with him in the halls or winding him up in classes. While Sebastian had become a rival of sorts, it would be odd not to see him skulking about. Dare he admit that he would miss their banter.

Leander sighed and got a hold on Sebastian's elbow. "Come on, you can walk back with me."

Sebastian grunted and yanked his arm free of Leander's grip, his cheeks flushing red as he glared at him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hissed. "I don't need your help!"

"Fine," Leander bit out. Frustration tightened his face as he stared at Sebastian, and then he shook his head again. The bloke was like an irritating itch that you couldn't reach. "Suit yourself."

The chilly night air bit into Leander's face as he walked down the cobbled street towards the main path back to Hogwarts. The sky was clear and full of stars, and Leander pulled his collar up a little, a puff of white leaving his lips as he sighed. Some people just didn't or couldn't accept help.

The path was mostly deserted, but Leander still kept a wary eye as he walked, the moonlight glittering on the lake water, the breeze ruffling through the bare trees. Spring was a long time showing its face, and he was looking forward to warmer days.

The soft sound of gravel shifting on the path behind Leander made him tilt his head. He kept moving, and he didn't look back, but his ears pricked up to listen out for more. Perhaps he should have Apparated, or used the Floo, but he was no coward, and he kept a steady pace as he walked.

The old ruin came up on his right, the broken edges of the brick appearing pale as the moonlight reflected off the dilapidated structure. The sound of feet came again from behind him, and this time Leander turned, his fingers gripping the handle of his wand. His eyes scanned the path, but there was no sign of anyone, the walkway empty, the only shadows were those of the trees as they shifted in the breeze.

As Leander turned back, movement to his right caught his eye, a shimmer of a spell hiding a figure in the grass at the edge of the path. With a quick flick of his wand, he cast to his right, hitting the glamour with a quick stun. A grunt sounded, the glamour disappeared, and a figure dressed in black fell into the grass. Leander stood for a moment, puzzled and unsure. He could have sworn... No, why would he?

Leander grit his teeth and stalked through the grass to look closer at the figure sprawled out on the ground, his wand aimed. A sigh left his lips when he saw the mop of brown hair and disgruntled face as Sebastian struggled to sit up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Leander frowned. "Were you following me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Prewett," Sebastian groused. He shifted to his knees and planted a boot to leverage himself up. A chuckle slipped from his lips. "Did I scare you?"

Leander rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered. Again, he didn't have the inclination to deal with this crap, and he turned away.

He yelped in surprise as Sebastian grabbed his arm, pulling him roughly back around. "Don't turn your back on me," Sebastian snarled.

Leander shoved him, making him stumble, but Sebastian whipped out his wand, throwing a quick cast. The drink made him sloppy, however, and Leander blocked it with ease. They began to cast at each other, throwing spells through the chilly darkness, moving in a constant circle as they dodged and parried.

Leander was growing tired of this bullshit and was beginning to regret his slight sympathy for Sallow earlier. He threw a spell out and caught Sebastian with it, just wanting this to be over so he could return to the castle in peace. Sebastian stumbled and hit an old barrel that was lying in the grass near the old ruin. He swore as he hit the ground, rolling over with a groan.

Leander stood there, debating going over against just leaving the prick to lie there, a drunken fool. He screwed his nose up, his upbringing winning out as he sighed and marched over to help Sebastian to his feet. He held out his hand, and Sebastian stilled, staring at it.

A war of expressions washed over Sebastian's face as he stared at Leander's hand. Leander felt warmth creep up his neck, the moonlight making Sebastian's freckled face pale, his full lips parted slightly as he breathed quickly. Then, Sebastian lifted his gaze to Leander's face, his eyes glittering in the dark. He reached up and took hold of Leander's hand, a smirk twisting those full lips.

Leander swallowed, the contact felt charged, different, and he almost yanked his hand away. This was too much eye contact. It made him feel strange, hot, as though his clothes were too tight all of a sudden. Sebastian adjusted his grip, fingertips grazing slightly against Leander's wrist, and Leander actually gasped.

Sebastian's eyes widened, only slightly, but enough for Leander to notice, and his cheeks grew very warm, very quickly.

A sharp tug was all it took. Sebastian pulled at Leander's hand, and he stumbled forward, the momentum making him fall to the ground. He collided with Sebastian, both of them grunting at the impact as their legs entangled. Sebastian was as quick as a snake, grabbing hold of Leander and throwing him back into the grass, pinning him down.

"What...?" Leander gasped. But his words were cut off into a strangled, muffled groan as Sebastian's mouth pressed down viciously onto his lips.

Shocked, Leander made to shove back, his hands slapping into Sebastian's chest, but the bloke was surprisingly strong. Their mouths ripped apart as they struggled, Sebastian using his knee to pin Leander down even harder.

"Don't fight it," Sebastian growled through gritted teeth.

Something like terror shot through Leander as his skin ignited into fizzing sparks, Sebastian was writhing against him, trying to pin his arms down, and Leander was growing dizzy with shock. Not at what Sebastian was doing, but at how his body was reacting. Leander lifted his head, his eyes wide and staring as he looked down to where Sebastian's hips were mashed against his, grinding against him.

Leander groaned, the fight going out of him as his cock began to twitch and swell. "Fuck," he hissed.

Sebastian met his eyes, the intensity of that stare making Leander forget he had lungs for a moment. And then Sebastian was kissing him again, hard kisses that made Leander open his mouth and take the thrust of a hot tongue, the taste of Firewhiskey and Sebastian heady and thick.

As Sebastian moved his lips over his jaw and down to his neck, Leander sucked in a much needed breath and then moaned as Sebastian bit him, teeth grazing his flesh with a sting that made his balls ache and his cock throb.

What the fuck were they doing? Leander went still, laying in the grass as Sebastian kissed and sucked at his neck, his hips grinding against his cock. His mind screamed at him to push Sebastian off, this was crazy, it was fucked up, they hated each other. Right?

He sucked in another harsh breath as Sebastian pulled at his belt, the buckle clinking in the darkness, the buttons popping open. Leander groaned, his hips flexing as Sebastian shoved his hand deep inside his pants, fingers curling over his erection in strokes that had Leander almost choking with lust.

"Seb...Sebastian..." The words were mumbled, almost incoherent as heat pulsed between his thighs at Sebastian's firm pumps.

"That's it," Sebastian said darkly. "You want it. You want me to touch you."

Leander fisted the front of Sebastian's jumper, forcing him a little closer so he could look at him. "Why?" It was meant to be a demand, but it was a strangled plea, his throat working hard as Sebastian tormented him with clever strokes.

Sebastian smirked and chuckled, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he pumped his fist faster. Leander stared and groaned, his head falling back, but his eyes still locked on Sebastian. Why was this so fucking hot?

Leander gave up trying to question it, his mind spinning out as lust took over. He relaxed back into the grass, soft moans leaving him as Sebastian shifted downwards, pulling Leander's trousers with him so that the chilly night air hit his hot flesh. Leander shivered and then cried out as he felt soft, full lips take his head in a gentle suck.

Leander had to look, he had to see this, leaning up on his elbows as Sebastian took his cock deeper into his mouth, that messy mop of hair just begging to be pulled as Sebastian fucked him with his mouth. A vibration shuddered through him as Sebastian moaned, his fingers cupping Leander's balls as he spread his tongue along the shaft, swirling over the tip to gather up the seeping pre cum.

Sebastian sucked his fingers and then began to stroke Leander's hole, teasing it gently, and Leander flexed his hips, eyes closing in bliss at the way he touched him.

"Oh fuck," Leander said. He grabbed Sebastian's hair and pulled, and Sebastian almost growled, sucking him even deeper and harder. The intrusion of a finger, slow and teasing, was tipping Leander over the edge, but he didn't want it to stop. Leander's thighs trembled, his breathless moans sounding filthy to his own ears as his hips bucked, thrusting himself deeper into Sebastian's throat.

"I'm going to cum," he whimpered. Sebastian grabbed his arse cheek and squeezed, taking him deep into his throat, and Leander felt the clench, his cock throbbing in the restricted cavern of Sebastian's throat as thick pulses of cum shot blissfully from his tip, his hole clenching around Sebastian's finger.

Leander was panting, jerking with over sensitivity as Sebastian's tongue lapped at his cock. He collapsed against the ground staring up at the starlit sky. He didn't know what to expect next, but it was not having his thighs spread wider. He looked down and gasped as Sebastian bent forward, a harsh sound coming from his throat before he spat messily against Leander's arse.

Leander had never seen anything so filthy in all his life. Cum dribbled from Sebastian's lips as he worked his mouth to spit again, spraying all the release he had caught onto Leander's hole. Sebastian was already sliding his fingers through it, his smirk positively wicked. Leander was speechless, his thoughts crashing into each other as he fantasised about licking the slick from Sebastian's chin.

"You ever been fucked before, Prewett?"

Leander shook his head. "N..no..."

Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry, mate. I'll be gentle."

Leander hissed air through his teeth as Sebastian slid a finger deep into his hole, the squelch of his own cum and Sebastian's spit making his cheeks flood with crimson. He panted, still twitching from his orgasm as Sebastian worked at him, slipping another finger in.

"You're tight, Prewett," Sebastian said. His gaze was intense, almost feral as he glared at Leander. "I can't wait to get balls deep in there. Roll over for me like a good bitch."

Leander gulped and nodded, shifting to roll over on the grass, and Sebastian pulled his hips up. Leander felt rather exposed, arse up in the air, the cold air feeling strange against his intimate parts. But as Sebastian began to thrust with his fingers again, Leander forgot about the cold, concentrating only on the feel of Sebastian, the burn, and the tingle of each delicious invasion. His cheeks burned at the degradation, it shouldn't feel this good to let Sallow call him a bitch, but it made his cock begin to twitch again, his breath come in pants.

Sebastian shifted, and Leander heard the rustle of clothing, anticipation made his tongue thick in his mouth as he felt the silken hardness of Sebastian brush against his inner thigh. He trembled as he felt the press of a thick head against his hole. A stinging slap to his arse cheek made him squeal, the sound of it loud in the night.

Sebastian edged his way into Leander's arse, a deep groan coming from his mouth that sent shivers down Leander's spine. Leander gaped at the slow, torturous push of Sebastian's cock, stretching him out. His fingers gripped at the blades of grass, his nails digging into the dirt as Sebastian pulled back and then pushed deeper.

"Fucking hell," Leander groaned. He felt his muscles contract around that thick length, and Sebastian's fingers pinched viciously at his hips.

"Such a good bitch," Sebastian muttered. He began to thrust, lazy, teasing thrusts, and Leander closed his eyes, moaning and rocking his hips at the utter bliss of it.

It didn't stay that way for long. Sebastian began to grunt and pant, his hands gripping tightly as he began to fuck harder, his skin slapping against Leander's arse, the noise erotic and loud in the open space.

Leander's eyes rolled, filthy moans leaving his own lips as his cock hardened painfully. He reached down and grasped it, wanking himself in time to Sebastian's violent pounding. His knees scraped the dirt, his mind was spinning, but he was begging, the words pouring from his lips to be fucked harder.

A quick glance back showed Sebastian's face gleaming with sweat in the moonlight, his hair damp at the edges, and in disarray. He was like an animal, his mouth open and harsh sounds coming from his throat, a gleam of saliva dripping from his lower lip. Leander squeezed his own cock and groaned, hips bucking up to meet angry thrusts as he spurted a second load out onto the grass.

As his muscles clenched and contracted, Sebastian threw his head back, a feral sound leaving his mouth as he slammed in deep, grinding himself into Leander's arse cheeks as he found his own release.

Leander shuddered at the pulse of it deep inside of him, leaning forward to press his flushed face against the coolness of the grass, the musky scent of sex mingling with the smell of dirt.

Sebastian slid from him, the heat of him disappearing to be replaced with a chill against his soaked hole. Leander rolled over, panting, stunned, hot juices squelching out onto his inner thigh.

Sebastian was sucking in his breaths, staring at Leander, a satisfied grin on his face. He clambered to his feet, fixing his clothing and pushing his hand through his hair. "You took that well, Prewett. I'm almost impressed."

"Almost," Leander muttered. He began to straighten his own clothes. His legs shook as he stood, and he grit his teeth, not wanting to stumble in front of Sebastian. His arse felt strange, violated, but also tingled with something else. Something he never expected to associate with the irritating Slytherin before him. Pleasure.

Sebastian moved close and Leander tensed. Sebastian grabbed his jaw, having to look up at Leander due to their height difference, but the look on Sebastian's face was pure dominance.

"Open your mouth and say one word about this to anyone, and I will kill you," he said bluntly. There was no humour in that look, just pure command.

"Why the fuck would I tell anyone?" Leander frowned.

Sebastian patted his cheek. "Good boy," he purred.

Leander tried to suppress the way that soft praise made his insides twist pleasantly. He nodded and turned away, fixing his hair a little as he thought about making his move to leave. This could get awkward real fast.

Sebastian chuckled in the dark behind him as he began to walk. Leander didn't look back.

"See you tomorrow, Prewett," Sebastian taunted.

Leander shivered. He wasn't sure if he was meant to be terrified or turned on. The way he was blushing told him it was both.

Part 2

[kriscommitscrimes]

this is genuinely the most insane rant ive ever concocted

[ID 1: A screenshot that reads; 'I'm on board with people who say Kris is A knight, not THE knight. Making them THE knight just seems way too easy to me if that makes sense? It really doesn't make sense to me why Toby would take that direction. I don't really thing they're the Roaring Knight either, I think that's probably someone else. Kris seems to have opened that specific fountain for a reason. They probably slashed Toriel's tyres to stop her from leaving the house, and they leave the door open. Toriel phoned Undyne before this, they seem to want to encourage her to enter the house. If you go to the police office and talk to Undyne, you have the option to talk to Undyne about the Dark World, and after choosing that, Kris seems to explain it to her in full detail. They seem to trust her. I think they're actually trying to show both of them the Dark World, whether it's to show them that there's something wrong with them, being the whole. possession thing, or something else, I dunno, but those details just stand out to me. Sorry for the rant, I just think Knight theories are really fun as long as they're not making Kris out to be. evil I really don't think that kid is evil sorry'. End ID]

[ID 2: A screenshot that reads; 'ANOTHER THING TO ADD Kris doesn't even really have the intentions that the Knight seemingly does. They just seem to be taking extreme measures. Why would they want to start the Roaring? There's literally no reason why they would WANT to do that, based on character analysis and such. We do get a lot of insight into their character during the first too chapters. Kris seems to me like they're just a weird kid who's a bit mean (like they're particularly mean to Noelle, they pull a LOT of pranks and stuff on her, and they even force her to share a certain healing item with them, but it's not malicious behaviour, it's just friendly banter, Noelle seems looks back on it all fondly), but they don't seem like the kind of person to want to end the world, it just seems to me like they're easily annoyed. Kris is dramatic, they're flirty, they actually seem like they actively enjoy attention. They're probably just causing a scene, Toby has already stated that Chapter Three is sort of just a filler chapter in one of the newsletters (sorry I can't remember for the life of me which one, if someone wants the source I'll go routing). I REALLY doubt Kris knew they could open a fountain until Chapter 2 when Queen explained it. Them opening a fountain and their Dark World appearance just really aren't a good enough analysis when you route a little deeper. Sorry about this again, obviously more of Kris' personality could be revealed as time goes on, this is just what I've pieced together as a Professional Kris Analyser™'. End ID]

[ID 3: A screenshot that reads; 'If anyone brings up Snowgrave to battle my Kris isn't malicious statement I'll just add that Ralsei states that they look DISTRAUGHT when he meets up up with them again, and Noelle mentions that the voice coming from them when being asked to proceed doesn't sound like them in a literal sense. They have no control there, I'd say the player has more control over them during that route. Noelle doesn't mention anything about Kris adding any extra off screen dialogue when you choose any of the dialogue that progresses Snowgrave, they just state what you selected. Kris normally elongates options and interacts with characters under their own vices, we just can't SEE them doing it. But that doesn't happen during Snowgrave. I really don't get people saying that they're the main player in Snowgrave. You could argue that they didn't bother to do anything, but again, Ralsei says that they look really upset over it'. End ID]

[estinininininen]

*takes deep breath* first fanfiction posted online in nearly twenty years. Final Fantasy IV, i dunno how many words, probably around 2000? unbeta'd. just after the sealed cavern debacle. Cursing and referenced violence. Edge POV, but it's actually about Cecil, Kain, and Rydia:

-

Kain's betrayal has split them into pairs: Cecil and Rosa, and Edge and Rydia. They each stare at the others as if they have gone mad.

"He's not usually mean, or, or, or cruel like this! You've known him for long enough to see that!" Rosa says.

"I don't know him at all," Edge says. "Bastard always hid his eyes and never talked to us!"

"He was struggling against the spell," Cecil says. "He didn't mean to do this. I'm sure of it."

This pauses the argument, because Cecil is the only one sitting hunched over, resting to recover from blood loss. Edge stares down at him. He feels his face twisting with many emotions that will be obvious even behind the veil. Pity, anger, disbelief.

Quiet until now, Rydia pipes up. "He's not like you, Cecil. He's not good deep down."

Rosa turns away and does not try to hide or stop her tears. Cecil huffs at Rydia, for a moment almost like an indulgent parent unable to scold a child, instead of the focused holy warrior Edge has grown to rely on. Considering what little he knows of Cecil and Rydia, the thought of him patronizing her, on behalf of this Kain guy, for a moment it makes Edge want to - want to smack Cecil, or bundle Rydia in his cloak and take her away. Snatch that holy headband right of his pretty face and huck it in the lava.

There is some great sin hovering over him and Rydia, and also Kain, Edge knows. None have answered when Edge questioned what it is, what Cecil did to her, how Kain fit into it. Rosa deferred to them. Each said what amounted to, That's for the others to share when they're ready, and even if Edge weren't a ninja he'd know that was a desperate trick to hide from the problem. It was only a step removed from "Ask your mother," and then being told "Ask your father."

Edge had wanted to ask the Eidolons. He was going to, but then he saw how Queen Asura and King Leviathan looked down at the two Baron men, bowed low and motionless before them, far longer than necessary. He decided not to, and told himself it was for diplomatic reasons, not wanting to test the new connections between Eblan, Baron and the Summons. It was not because he was scared reopening that wound would get him or the two fools blown to bits. Not at all.

Into the puckered silence, Rydia says, "Well, he's not. Kain's not a good person. I haven't forgotten what he . . . what he said to you at Mist."

Cecil's head snaps up. "What?"

"He threatened you," Rydia said, whispering. Her eyes are looking at Cecil and also at some distant memory. "He threatened you, he told you to kill me, and it was before he was under Golbez' thrall."

Rosa turns back to them, jaw dropping. Edge is certain he's done the same, but he's a terrible politician and can't hold his face so he's not sure.

"I was seven," Rydia says. "I was a child, and you were the one who did the right thing, and Kain wasn't going to so, so I don't, I don't want to hurt you or Rosa but he is not a good person-"

"Rydia!" Cecil says. "Rydia, no, that's not right-"

"I had ears, Cecil," Rydia says. "I was seven but I could hear you." She curls her fists at her side. Rydia is not actually quick to anger, Edge realizes. All the bantering and frustration she has with the prince of Eblan is nothing compared to how furious she is now. She is just as quiet when ready to kill.

But Cecil is still going on. "That's not what happened. No. No!" He shakes his head. "He was threatening me," he says.

Total silence falls.

"He was threatening me," Cecil says, and hangs his head.

"What?" Rydia says.

"What?" Rosa says.

Cecil looks up, open his mouth, then checks himself, slaps his hand on the ground, and looks back down.

"Will someone please explain to me what the hell happened at Mist?" Edge says.

Rydia's brow furrows into little lines that even in the strange moment Edge can't help but find cute. He is not prepared for what Rydia says next. "Kain and Cecil killed my mum's Eidolon, which killed her," she says.

Edge looks toward Rosa, who does not seem surprised.

Cecil sighs. "We were ordered by Cagnazzo, pretending to be King Odin, to open the way to Mist and deliver a package. He ordered us not to open it until we arrived and presented it to the town leaders for all to see. It was a bomb ring, and Golbez must have been watching us for the moment to set it off."

Cecil is good at compartmentalizing and military summaries, but Edge see this is hard for him. He rocks backwards and looks up at the stone ceiling of the cave entrance. "The first blast ignited almost the whole town, and then living bomb monsters came out of the ring and began hunting down the survivors. Kain and I were safe in a small circle near the ring, but smoke was going to kill us if we stayed or tried to help anybody. So we ran."

Edge looks towards Rosa again. It is still knowledge she has heard before. Rydia's face is like glass, still and smooth but ready to shatter at a moment.

Cecil continues. "On the edge of the village we heard a girl crying next to a dead body. Bombs were still flying behind us, and people who left the town were chased down. I think the only reason Kain and I lived still was because of the ring protecting us from its effects - but I don't know. I will keep guesswork for later. The girl cried that her m, her moth-"

Cecil swallowed and lowered his face to wipe his eyes with one hand.

Rydia spoke. "I told you she died because someone had killed her summon."

Edge fears for a moment the paladin has cracked, because Cecil laughs. "Well, you were saying that to - to anyone who passed by, more like. It's really been ten years for you, hasn't it? Rydia, I'm sorry, it's not been so long for me, and I can still-"

"Keep it together, man," Edge says. He thinks this was the right thing to say, it's not right for Cecil to need comfort from Rydia, but Rydia's focus for the first time snaps to Edge and almost burns a hole right through his skull. He withdraws. Rosa sits down next to Cecil and puts her hand in his.

"Tell me what you mean by Kain threatened you," Rydia says.

Cecil says, "Kain said we needed to kill you. The king wanted you dead. And he drew his lance. That's what you remember?"

"Yes," Rydia whispers.

"I was between you and Kain. He was preparing to attack me if I listened to him and tried to hurt you."

Rosa gasps and says, "You wouldn't have done that, Kain knew that-"

Cecil cut her off. "No, he didn't know that. When it came down to it, I was a dark knight who had just come back from kill- . . . from murdering civilians in Mysidia and stealing their crystal. I had told Kain and everyone I saw in Baron that I felt it was wrong but I had still done it."

Cecil stops and Edge knows he is about to roll around in his guilt like a pig in mud, but the story is not done. Rydia cuts off Cecil's reverie. "You pushed Kain back," she says. "Away from me."

"I pushed Kain back and said I wouldn't hurt a child. Kain said that he thought I'd say that. I don't think you heard that. Kain's an ass, I'm not denying that, but he thinks quick. The fire was there, bombs were flying, and you seemed ready to bolt. If he wanted to save you, Rydia, he couldn't wait for me to figure out my loyalties. I had the bomb ring."

Rydia exhales through her nose. "And you hadn't realized yet this was what Cagnazzo intended."

"Until Kain said so. If I . . . if I had been alone and saved you . . . Well, I wouldn't have made it that far, Kain is the only reason I . . . but if I had been alone, and thought, halfway through returning to Baron, 'I can't come back with this child' . . . I'm not sure what I would have done . . . "

Edge snaps.

"You silver-haired bastard," he snarls. "You would have killed her?"

He will not forget Cecil's expression for a long time. "The king was the only father I had ever known," he says. "I didn't think I would ever kill people begging me to just leave, but I did. I already had. For him."

"You are fucked in the head," Edge says.

"Yes," Cecil says.

"I knew you were the dark knight that attacked Mysidia, but wow. And what, you think a different guy who says he's your father cancels out this shit? Wipes the slate clean?"

"No," Cecil says.

"Would you do whatever I asked if I said I was your father?" Edge says.

"Edge," Rydia says. "It's between me and Cecil."

Edge continues, because he can't stop the fire building behind his eyes, and if he doesn't speak it will come out as something even worse. "Holy dipshit," he says.

"Right," Cecil says.

"Edge!" Rydia says. "Shut up and leave him alone. This is the part I've worked out with him already. Numerous times. You're not my, my protector or whatever it is you're trying now," she says.

"What? You think that - that I'm trying to - ? That is the last thing on my mind," Edge says. "There's too much at stake, here, way more than I realized when I first met you lot, and it turns out the man I've been trusting, everyone's been trusting, to stop Golbez is an asshole who couldn't figure out it's wrong to kill a child without his even bigger asshole friend pointing it out?"

"Edge, you're not listening. He did figure it out," Rydia said. "Wait, no, I mean, he didn't really need to ask that question. Of course he didn't. He's Cecil. Have you met him? Haven't you noticed he gets upset if he has to kill a bug?"

Cecil opens his mouth to say something. Rosa hushes him.

Edge's calm center of ninja training is gone. He is gone. His parents are dead, Eblan is in ruins, and Golbez has all but won. He has found emotional limits he didn't know he had and smashed through them like a rampaging chocobo. He yells, "Well I am definitely not flirting with you just because I'm a little concerned! That the man! Who ruined your life! Is here and you don't seem to care-"

"He did ruin my life," Rydia says, as if talking to a child. "And then he saved it." Then she crossed her arms and stared Edge down.

"Rydi-" Cecil says.

"Cecil," Rosa says, in the tensest tone Edge has heard yet from the white mage. Edge sneers down at her. "Well I'm glad someone has him on a leash," he says, and turns to leave the sealed cave.

"Where are you going?" Cecil asks.

"Fuck you!" Edge says. He starts walking. But he feels, dripping at the back of his anger, something like beginning awareness he has . . . not overreacted, but overstepped some boundary with Rydia. He will not call it a "mistake," yet.

"Edge," Rydia calls out to him. "Don't go far."

-------------------------------------------

Rydia shakes her head after Edge leaves. "What a . . . What a baby. I don't know the word for it."

"He'll calm down," Rosa says. "I think."

They are silent for too long, and it is jarring when Rosa speaks again. "Do you want me to step outside?" she says. "If you two need to speak?"

Rydia looks at Cecil. "I don't think so, no," she says. "I love you, Rosa," she adds. It is Rydia's way to be open and calm with her feelings, and say them when they occur to her, more Eidolon than human in manners. Rosa is still startled enough that she doesn't say anything besides, "Oh, I uh, I love you too, Rydia."

The weight that Cecil always presses down on himself to move forward has come back. "We shouldn't spend too much time here. The wound has closed and the potion helped the bloodloss. I can recover on the Falcon now."

"Don't push yourself," Rosa says.

"We must tell King Giott. We have all but lost," he says.

"I can't believe that about Kain," Rydia says. "You really think that, that he decided he was going to fight you that quick?"

"Ah," Cecil says, as he shifts to stand up. He presses a hand to the wall. He feels much older than just turned twenty-one. In hindsight, Kain being ready to fling himself against Cecil at a moment's notice looks bad. His thoughts swim. He is not sure if he has improved Rydia's opinion of Kain at all now.

"I wish you had told me earlier," Rydia says. "I would have forgiven him, if he asked. And now he's gone . . ."

Dancing under the stones of their feet, deeper than the foundations of the earth, is the ever-present knowledge Rydia has not said the words "I forgive you" to Cecil yet. Or maybe that is just him. He hopes Rydia has not assumed he already knew if she does or not. He has not asked her.

After today he is not sure he can.

[anime-grimmy]

Trigun hyperfixation has an iron grip on me and I desperately need to get my head to think of something else. Especially cos I crave so much for good stories but to my suprise, a lot of (vashmeryl) fanfics I read are extremely samey, especially the post-anime ones.

That being said, while reading, I was actually suprised to see a few scenarios or themes never explored? So I thought, since I can't get my brain to focus anyways, might as well drop some vashmerly hcs and prompts.

the one I'm most suprised has not been explored at all is Meryl and Milly trying to teach Vash how to actually talk/flirt with women. I still dunno how Vash came to be known as a womamizer in the og anime cos he is abyssmal when it comes to flirting. So, after an especially embarassing rejection, Meryl picks a fight with Vash as usual and he's all like "yeah, then you show me how it's done." Not one to chicken out on a competition (and with avid encouragement by Milly) they set up a fake date. I can totally see it going really funny, Meryl trying her darn hardest to act like an actually interested date but can't help herself from cringing and and scoffing at how stupid Vash' approaches are. So basically, it would be a mix of silly flirting and a lot of bantering. By the end Meryl admits that he's not half bad if he just turns down the goofiness a bit, mentioning if he just ties up the night nicely he might even score a second date (she means in general, not realizing that it sounds like she's implying a date with her). Cue Vash doing the only smooth move in his life and stealing a goodnight kiss, asking "well, did it work?"

less of a prompt or headcanon, but in all the scar-centric fics Ive read, not once is it mentioned how Vash has a literal cage over his heart? Ive always loved this little design aspect, since it so obviously shows Vash fortifying his heart and keeping everyone out. I can also see Meryl being all smug like "well, im small and nimble, and the spaces between the bars are wide, I can easily slip through"

another funny thought about the metal grids on his body would be them cuddling but Meryl's hair gets caught on the metal and now they have to akwardly maneuver out of this situation

Meryl uses any and all situations to be taller than Vash. Since she is so much smaller than him, she usually stands when he sits, especially when they argue, tries to be just a few stairs above him or walks a few more steps up a slop so she can peer down on him. Not that her presence isn't big enough already, but she for sure tries her hardest to assert dominance.

To her dismay, Vash likes to use this moments to pick her up. I dunno why, but since Meryl is so small I can see Vash just enjoying it to pick her up and twirl her around. Lugging her around like a pretty looking sack of potatoes.

Vash is a human pretzel. He will contort his body in ways to hug as much of Meryl as possible.

Meryl becomes incredibly good at ignoring Vash if she needs to work. She could be sitting at her typewriter, only noticing Vash has her in a vice grip when Milly asks if she isn't distracted.

Despite how spiky it looks, Vash' hair is actually pretty soft and fluffy, and once Meryl finds out she uses any opportunity to run her fingers through it. Vash doesn't mind cos he totally digs the head scratches (humanoid typhoon? more like humanoid doggo)

when traveling together, they usually share a thomas cos Vash can't ride for shit. Vash likes to be dramatic and complain about it (cos he's a big boy thank you very much) but he can't deny that he wholly enjoys being cuddled up behind Meryl for hours on end.

Welp, just some food for thought cos my brain is in Trigun overdrive. These are specifically based on the 98 versions of them but I have a whole lot for Stampede as well haha

[lloydfrontera]

Is there a difference between manhwa javier and novel javier? What is it? I never noticed it because it wasn't obvious like Lloyd's as his was exaggerated and he difference is too noticeable

there are,, some differences yes but nothing as bad as what they did to lloyd.

manhwa javier is a lot more expressive than novel javier. which i suppose is a consequence of manhwa being a visual medium but it can be a bit jarring at times.

novel javier is a lot more subtle and serious, not completely stoic of course, just more even-tempered i suppose. it's not that he doesn't feel things, he does, he's just careful about what he shows or shares with others. he's also very proper and respectful at all times. it's why it's so funny that he's such a little shit when he's just with lloyd, he would never tease and joke and laugh in front of anyone else, this is a side of him that only lloyd gets to see. this is not a guy that would be fighting for his life to keep himself from laughing when in front of other nobles like we see from manhwa javier in episode 80

he's also more... quiet. not in the sense that he doesn't talk, he does, especially with lloyd, it's actually kind of ridiculous how much banter between them has been cut in the manhwa, but the way he expresses himself isn't loud or overly expressive. even at his angriest, he never explodes or raises his voice, instead he gets colder and snappish, lloyd describing it as 'a heavy snowfall', his responses 'cold and icy'.

which, speaking of lloyd, javier is just closer to lloyd in the novel than he is in the manhwa. which is ironic because in the manhwa they actually are more honest with one another than they are in the novel and yet!

a big part of this is that aforementioned cut banter. in the novel these two are always speaking with each other, they're commenting on things, they're sharing their thoughts, they're joking with one another, they just... won't stop talking between them. it is constant. so you very clearly can see them growing closer and slowly becoming friends as much as they won't admit it at first. this is something that i've mentioned before but like,,, javier genuinely likes being around lloyd. he's annoyed about it and he actually throws a tantrum when he realizes he finds lloyd likable but he just can't help it! and he knows that he's also lloyd's closest friend, he even teases him about it! in the novel you completely believe them when they say they're friends because you've seen them grow closer to one another the entire time.

also javier just,,, seems to care more for lloyd in the novel? it's difficult to explain but javier is constantly thinking about lloyd's safety, a part of him is always worrying about keeping him safe. i complained about it before but in the manhwa javier seems to take his responsibility to protect lloyd less seriously than he should. when to javier that's his main worry! even as early as in the llojavi bridge we already get these sort of comments from javier's pov:

Javier finally let out a sigh of relief after knowing that the most dangerous part of the job was now done, and Lloyd was safe. The latter alone was good enough.

like. it's not much. it's nothing big. it's just tiny moments like these sprinkled here and there. but they're constant. whenever there's danger, whenever they're in risk, one of the first things javier always does is to check on lloyd, see if he's okay, if he's safe. the idea that javier wouldn't care for lloyd's safety doesn't even really cross your mind cause. well. you see him constantly worry about it.

fthere were a couple of changed in the bone dragon arc?? but i've talked about those before. they make javier less,,, kind?? helpful?? less of a hero type than he is in the novel. i dunno it's weird.

oh and a big one which i've also talked about before. javier in the novel does care that lloyd replaced the son of his lord. like. that is very much a point of conflict for him. he's not completely indifferent to it, he's genuinely shaken and distressed when he finds out the truth. it's a bit insulting to his character that they changed this. it undercut the extreme character development it took to get javier to this point, the amount of trust and loyalty he has for both arcos and lloyd, it's such an important moment for him and they just. changed it like that. i'm still mad about it akjshdksf

but,,, yeah i think those are the main ones. i guess if you scroll through my tag for him you'll find more info about how he is in the novel but,, i think that about covers it?? the important bits anyway. so... yeah :]

[irish-urn]

For the ask game:

001 - Dasey

002 - Derek and Casey

Dasey:

when I started shipping it if I did: Oh, boy. That's a question, now isn't it? I low-key shipped them when I first found Dasey fanfiction waaaaaaay back in my undergrad (so, like 10-12 years ago?). But it was super low-key. I got BACK into Dasey majorly in the spring of 2021 and stumbled upon fanvids and fanfiction of them AGAIN and because I was laid up health-wise, I got obsessed.

my thoughts: I have a LOT of thoughts about Dasey???? I think they're fascinating characters and I adore them both as individuals and as a couple. I think their physical comedy (and by that I mean they're complete lack of personal space) is hilarious; and I think they have insane chemistry. I think Derek knows Casey better than anyone, and Casey gets Derek better than anyone; and I think they're both stupid and stubborn enough to never acknowledge that. I think they're far more alike than they are different, and I think I need to continue my rewatch of the show because I'm gonna end up writing an essay about them.

What makes me happy about them: I think it's how good of a team they can be. I've always been a BIG friends-to-lovers shipper, but even more than that, a "we're partners and i've got your back" shipper. And even though Derek and Casey TRY to pretend to they hate each other, we have sooooo much evidence of them being protective of the other, of them going out of their way to help the other (usually complaining the whole time, but c'mon), and of them kicking serious butt when they do work together. It just makes something inside me purr.

What makes me sad about them: THEY'RE KIDS IN AN AWFUL SITUATION and they don't FEEL like family, but everything in their lives are telling them they're supposed to be; but they CAN'T be, and if they TRY to be together, they might hurt their FAMILIES who they LOVE so MUCH; and I think you catch my drift.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: ...I really hate OOC-ness, but the MOST OOC-ness I hate is when people make Derek to be, like, abusive? Or completely inconsiderate of Casey's boundaries, and you get into non-con. I just... Nope.

things I look for in fanfic: EXCELLENT CHARACTERIZATION. Good bantering, that push-and-pull that they both have... I also think they have at least mildly kinky sex, and I support this.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Well, all of Casey's boyfriends SUCK except for Sam who is an excellent person but not good for her. And I'm pretty sure her husband in LWL isn't doing a good job either. So they'd have to create a WHOLE NEW CHARACTER for her--

I don't mind Derek/Sally, except I think they'd have to work things out as adults better. I dunno; the show purposely shows us that Derek and Casey are far more important to each other than any of their significant others (that's been stated by the creators, btw), so yeah. No one.

My happily ever after for them: THEY GET TOGETHER AND THE FAMILY ACCEPTS THEM AND THEY STAY TOGETHER FOR, LIKE, 60+ YEARS AND BICKER AND BANTER AND LOVE EACH OTHER THE WHOLE TIME and whether or not they have kids depends completely on their choices and Derek calms Casey's panic attacks, and Casey reminds Derek of his worth, and I cry.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: THEY. SWITCH. I think most of the time Derek is the big spoon because he's kinda sexist, no lie, but I think when he's having a bad day, he likes getting spooned. Casey likes being held, but she also likes holding him. So, uh... 80% of the time Derek is the big spoon.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Honestly, I think it's arguing. But in, like, a fun way? With bets and competition and teasing and flirting; I strongly believe that they would just have a lot of small arguments and that would keep the big fights small too. And Casey likes debating and Derek likes challenges.

Derek:

How I feel about this character: MY BLORBO???? I LOVE HIM??? HE'S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT; I ADORE HIM???

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Well. Casey, obviously. And to a certain extent, Sally.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: ...Derek&Lizzie. I know, I KNOW that Derek & Marti are like, gold, but I think his interactions with Lizzie are superb.

My unpopular opinion about this character: ...do I have one? I dunno. I have a lot of opinions about his relationship with his parents, but I wouldn't call them unpopular, more... me looking at things differently than some others do.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish, in LWL, people (Genora) recognized how much he had grown. Just because a person likes to have fun and tease and passes off some of his responsibilities to people he knows will do them (see: Skyler and Casey, but they also ENJOY doing these tasks most of the time), doesn't make him immature. He was SUCH a good dad and was taking steps to improve Skyler's life, and maybe their lives weren't traditional, but she was healthy and loved and appreciated and he had raised her as best he could; and honestly, his relationship with Skyler was much better than his with George, I'm just saying. Derek is clever with a large heart, and I wish people in the show saw that more.

my OTP: ...Dasey.

my cross over ship: I don't like crossovers? *shrugs*

a headcanon fact: Derek is a dork. He's a big ol' dork. I HC that he knows an awful lot about very certain things because he gets hyperfixated -- reword: Derek has undiagnosed ADHD. There. That's my fact.

[bill-needle]

A Caller on the Hate Line

Bill Needle's new call-in show has been an unexpected hit, much to his dismay. Oddly enough, all of the callers so far have vaguely reminded him of himself.

*brring brring*

It's the phone...

---

"Hello, you're on the Hate Line."

"How's it goin', eh?"

"I'll tell ya, it's not going well. Who is this?"

"What, you don't recognize my voice? You think you're too good for our show, Mister Critic Guy? We're on the same, uh… network, eh?"

"Oh great, more SCTV talent."

"That's right, we're talent! And more talent than you'll ever be, eh? At least we manage to keep our show as, like, just the one show, eh?"

"Well, you're obviously familiar with me. Y'know, I can't help but feel that you've introduced a distinct power imbalance into our conversation, here."

"Imblenc- oh take off, eh? You tryin' to use your fancy critic terms to confuse me? Aren't I supposed to be the one complainin'?"

"You've been doing plenty of complaining already… Dave?"

"It's Doug, eh? Now let me say what I was goin' to say."

"Go ahead, Doug."

"Doug McKenzie. Brother of Bob, eh?"

"Oh, right, you two. Fine. What's on your mind, Mr. McKenzie?"

"Ooh, "Mr. McKenzie", makes me sound all important, eh? Anyway, I was callin' in to say that Bob has been takin' over the show again, and it's pissin' me off. We were talkin' about how we should be runnin' the show more like a- like, an "equal partnership", eh? And now he's off runnin' it like it's just his show again. I don't know what to do with this hosehead."

"Tell me, Mr. McKenzie, what exactly is it that you bring to your show?"

"Oh, I bring my raw sexual charisma, eh?"

"Your- your what? Did I hear that right?"

"Yeah, eh? The ladies love Doug McKenzie."

"And that's… that's what you want? For Great White North?"

"Well it's not somethin' I did on purpose, and I can't say I care personally either way, but it does "bring in the ratings". At least, like, that's what you always say, eh?"

"What I always… ah, hell."

"What's wrong, Bill? Don't tell me you were lyin' about that stuff, eh? I've kinda put all my, uh, beer, into one… beer basket, here. I really don't have any other skills, eh?"

"As much as all my instincts are screaming at me to hang up on you this instant, there's some terrible little part of me that needs to hear this, and hear it directly from you. Which traits of yours, precisely, would you provide as evidence of your - and I quote - "raw sexual charisma"?"

"I'm, like, a "bad boy", eh? Always causin' trouble. Ladies can't get enough of that stuff - don't ask me why, eh, 'cause I dunno either. Also, the, uh, earmuffs, eh? There's somethin' about the earmuffs, I swear."

"Well, I hate to say it, but you're not wrong. I'm sure you've heard me allude to my extensive amateur research on the subject, but I have indeed identified that an aloof demeanour has a powerful effect on the female libido. The only problem is- that's not really the kinda thing you talk about with a show like yours. Do you even have a sense of who your target audience is? 'Cause I'll tell ya now, it's not "the ladies"."

"Take off, tons of ladies watch our show, eh? You think a lady can't be a hoser?"

"Oh I'm sure they do, but they aren't watching Great White North for any kind of sexual appeal. They're watching for the banter you have with your brother, your… your rambling discussions of those inane "topics", and that set design… you could make a- a sculpture out of all those empties. They watch you to gawk, if anything. Frankly, you should feel used."

"HA! So you have seen our show!"

"…is that what you were trying to prove?"

"No, but it's real funny, eh?"

"Yeah, real funny. Okay Doug, thanks for callin' in-"

"No, Bill, wait- call me "Mr. McKenzie" just one more time, eh? Pretty please, with a donut on top?"

"…okay, Mr. McKenzie, it was a pleasure to have you on the Hate Line."

"You're a bad liar, Bill. But thanks, eh? I'll see ya around."

"Don't bet on it."

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I'm obsessed with Leara's flirty banter, it's the best -Danny Words: 2,537 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Everything Has Changed' -by Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran

XXXVI: Kinda Want to Kiss Him, Kinda Want to Push Him Into Traffic

Leo's team lost, so he isn't in the ideal mood to have a serious talk, but Ara goes through with it anyway. While everyone's distracted singing and eating s'mores, she starts the awkward conversation.

"I wasn't hiding things intentionally," she speaks in a whisper, even though the kids around them are loud.

"So why does it feel like you are?" Leo's got a frown on his face that she hates to see.

She clasps her hands together and places them against her lips. "So, basically, I'm dumb."

"You could at least try a compelling excuse."

"I thought you wouldn't care!"

"I don't want you to go," he stares at the campfire, shoulders falling a little, "I know your parents asked you to—"

"They're not forcing me. I mean, they decided without telling me first, but if I were to push back, they wouldn't stop me."

"So you're saying... you want to leave?" Leo looks at her. "Is it your prophecy?"

Ara thinks of the vision she saw of Janus, and a chill runs down her spine. The place is not that dark, but they're still close enough to get away with a few things. Ara reaches for Leo's hand and holds it firmly.

"Rachel has recited it twice by now, it's getting serious..." Ara makes a face. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, though."

"Alright... so what is it?"

"Last year, Percy was hiding from more than just a prophecy, and I understand him better now," she sighs. "I watched him tiptoe over his feelings for years until he couldn't anymore, and it only made things harder. We're alike that way."

Leo stares at her with a frown. "Your mother is the goddess of love, Ara."

"And that's all the more reason to be afraid of her!" She exclaims. "And don't even get me started on Eros! There is a reason why my siblings play matchmaker with others and not themselves—"

"But aren't you supposed to... well, love it?"

"It doesn't mean I understand it. My sister Silena advocated for romantic love, defended it, and made use of it. Others, like Piper and I, focus on prosaic beauty and platonic love. Kids like Drew focus on the physicality and idolization of it. Love has many faces, and I never look where to look."

Ara focuses on the kids around the campfire, it's during this time that she gets to see everyone's soul light. She knows what they love, and to have that leverage over so many people can be overwhelming.

"I can't tell if I'm leaving because it's going to make me a better leader, or if I'm going away because I don't want to like you more than I already do."

Leo doesn't want to laugh, but it comes out involuntarily. "You're afraid of liking me too much?"

He's talking in a normal voice now, so she speaks in an even quieter whisper. "You're the first boy that likes me back—"

"Shut up."

Ara looks around in alarm. "Why?"

"No, I mean, that can't be right," Leo scowls. "That can't be true."

"I told you—"

"I remember what you said, but you also mentioned having a first date—"

"Yeah, and you know how that went! Even my first kiss was a fiasco..."

"Please, tell me you're not talking about me," he pouts.

"What? No, it was with a friend—"

"You kissed Lily?" Leo raises his voice.

"No!" Ara pinches his arm. "Be quiet!" 

"Nico?"

The girl turns around again, thinking Leo's spotted the younger demigod. "What? Where?"

"No, doofus!" He snorts. "You kissed Nico?"

Ara feels weirdly insulted. "Ew! No! He's like the annoying little cousin I acquired when I got adopted."

"He overexcites you a little too much for me to believe that."

Ara pinches the bridge of her nose. "Alright, let's circle back, okay? I want to make good use of this week, so I don't feel like I'm dipping out."

Leo keeps on teasing her. "Dunno, I kinda want you to feel bad about it..."

"That's not funny."

"It's kinda funny."

"Leo!"

"Arae."

When he says, her name sounds like a prayer instead of a curse. She tries hard to conceal just how much it delights her.

"What's your full name?" Ara crosses her arms. "I need to sound stern and Leo isn't gonna cut it."

"Great question! Unfortunately, I refuse to answer."

"Leoooo," she complains, making use of her puppy eyes.

"Stop that before I kiss you in front of everyone," he whispers a warning, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "You'll leave once the week ends?"

Ara glances down at his hand, they're both glowing. "Yeah."

"I want us to be official by the time you leave."

"What!"

Leo hushes her, though he's smiling. "Jackson, be quiet!"

"Leo, I'm a veteran in this camp," she expresses anxiously. "When my friends got crushes, I was front and center making their lives hell, I loved teasing them—"

He laughs. "Oh, so Karma's gonna getcha real nice, huh?"

"I don't wanna be thrown into the lake," she groans, moving her hand away.

"Come again?" Leo tilts his head in amusement, his body tilting forward when she moves.

"When campers start dating, we throw them in the lake."

"Oh, like when Piper and Jason got together? That was fun," he smirks. "I'm game!"

"Sorry, I forgot you're insane," she frowns. "It's the middle of winter!"

"I'm always warm," he shrugs with a shit-eating grin.

"Let's see if you can handle me for a week first," Ara concludes, knowing she can't win the argument.

"I'll be fine," the boy replies confidently. "I'm the best thing that's happened to you since Reese's created its own cereal, right?"

Ara tries not to laugh. "That's not how I said it."

"I took creative liberty."

The girl shakes her head. "I'm going to bed..."

"That an invitation?"

"Leo!"

Ara wakes up right on time the following day. At first, she can't remember why she's so giddy, she didn't have any dreams, then she remembers Leo and has to take a moment to roll onto her stomach, kick her feet in the air, and giggle.

Once she calms down, Ara gets up and gets dressed. Lily shows up and Ara takes the clipboard off her hands, reading through it and adjusting the to-do list so she ends up going to the bunker right before her free hour.

"I've been thinking about what you said yesterday," Lily says as they walk through camp. "I think we can use your free hour to play video games."

"That's a great idea!" She replies. "Can we invite others?"

Lily pauses. "Who?"

"The Stolls, Jason, Leo, and Piper," Ara grins. "You know, so they feel welcomed! Jason needs to grow attached to us..."

"Uh-uh, one would think dating Piper, a Greek demigod, would be enough," Lily raises a brow. "Are you sure this isn't about your poster boy?"

"Whaaat?" Ara snorts. "No!"

"You gave away all the tasks he offered you, so now you have no excuses to spend time with him."

"What are you talking about? My to-do list says that I'll be going to the bunker today!"

"No, that's my to-do list, yours is only the first four."

Ara frowns, going over the list a second time. "That's confusing."

"You never read the list," her friend chortles. "You try to memorize it, then you spend the rest of the day asking me what's next."

"Well, I get things done, don't I?"

Lily snorts and rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I'll pretend I believe you. But I don't think Leo can sit still for more than five minutes, he's like a bouncy ball. Good luck keeping him inside a tiny room."

"He's alright," Ara tries to act like Leo's name doesn't make her want to smile like an idiot. "Hey, do you know his whole name?"

Lily wrinkles her nose. "I heard it was Leonardo, but he may be lying, you never know with him."

"Huh," Ara doesn't know why, but it doesn't sound right to her either.

"Why?"

"He didn't want to tell me."

"Why do you always fall for the guys with weird natures?"

"I don't know, Lily, why do you like stabbing people?" Ara taunts her. "We don't choose our favorite things, they just show up one day and it's like 'Okay, I'll obsess over you now!'"

"So you're obsessed with Leo?" Lily teases her.

"Next time we train together, remind me to kick your ass."

Ara visits the bunker and she brings Connor along as a distraction, they're both carrying large tote bags full of snacks.

"Hi, everyone! We brought lunch!" She announces to the crowd.

They're immediately surrounded by a flock of demigods. Lily's the last one to approach, and Ara's unable to hide her curiosity. "Where's Leo?"

Lily sips on her Capri-Sun. "Why do you need him?"

"Are you his new assistant or something?" She raises a brow. "I just wanna know."

The girl grabs another juice and then vaguely points to the ship. "He's in there. I'll take you."

"No, thanks. I got it."

"If it's about the ship's design, I should join—"

"It's not a—Why am I explaining myself? I'm the General!" Ara loses her temper. "You're dismissed, Saggio."

The girl laughs. "Non distrarre a lungo il nostro ingegnere, Generale, o ti costruirà una nave difettosa," Lily taunts her.

"Hey that's not fair, I still don't know Italian well!" Connor pouts.

Lily guides him to her workbench. "Don't worry about it, come help me design Ara's room."

"Don't put anything weird in it!" The girl warns them.

Lily gives her a thumbs-up without looking back. Ara wants to stay and make sure, but she brought Connor with her for a reason. She loves Lily, but the girl is a nosy little jerk. Ara is too, of course, that's why they're best friends.

Ara walks into the empty ship and gets a little overwhelmed. The thing is huge and she doesn't want to get lost in it, but luckily for her, on the first left turn, she finds Leo crouching near a wall and muttering to himself as he measures something.

Ara sneaks up on him. "Hey!"

Leo jumps out of his skin, dropping the measuring tape. His curls burst into flames. "What the heck is wrong with you?!"

Ara laughs, helping him up. "Many things, but I just like how you burst into flames when I startle you. Like an octopus squirting ink."

Leo picks up his measuring tape. "You're a terrible person."

"I am," she rummages through her almost empty bag. "And you like me anyway."

"Just because I begged you for a date, kissed you, and said I'm crushing on you big time, doesn't mean I like being bullied. I accept your bullying 'cause you're stronger than me and I can't fight you," he quips.

Ara hands him an apple and a water bottle. "Talking about that... you should train."

"I'm good," he replies, taking a huge bite out of his fruit. He swallows it before speaking again. "Busy building the greatest warship in history."

"We won't always be there to protect you," she crosses her arms. "I would sleep better if you knew how to use a sword..."

"I know how to use a sword! You poke the soft spots! It ain't that hard, doll," Leo taunts her, continuing with his work. "Besides, I was chosen 'cause I'm an inventor. Can't do that if I lose a limb."

"We can reattach limbs. Paolo has gotten his arm reattached a few times already."

Leo looks at her. "Please, tell me the second time was because they put it backward on their first try."

Ara steps forward and holds his face. "Are you not interested because you don't like training, or is it something else?"

The boy struggles to maintain eye contact. "I don't have what it takes to be a good swordsman or an archer—I'd probably stab my foot..."

"Guns exist?" She suggests, half-joking.

"I know I'm from Houston, but I'm not that kind of Texan," Ara tries not to laugh, but Leo notices her expression and keeps going. "I would shoot myself in the butt. Probably make my visits to the bathroom way shorter, everything would come right out—"

She bursts out laughing, letting go of his face. "I'm being serious!"

"And I don't want that," Leo reaches up to cup her face. "I'm pretty sure I could make a weapon on the go if I'm ever in real danger."

"At least train to be in good shape," she insists. "You can climb the lava wall with me, and learn close combat?"

"Exactly how close the combat is?" He smirks.

She pushes him away giggling. "Anyway, I came here for a reason, not just to scare you."

"That's good to hear," Leo takes another bite of his apple. "What is it?"

"Lily fixed my schedule, so I have an empty hour every day. I told her we should invite our friends—"

"Am I your friend in this situation?"

"For now, yes. It'd be a good excuse to spend time together and hang out."

"In a secluded space, where no one is looking," he steps closer to her. "Just like the one we're in right now."

Ara blushes. "I mean... the rec room isn't this big..."

Leo takes another bite of his apple and watches her with a strange look in his eyes. "We could get away with some fun stuff anyhow..." 

His skin is glowing again, just like hers. His words are making it impossible to think straight.

"That's a yes?"

"Yeah. I'm counting it as a date."

Ara looks away, the room feels a thousand times hotter now. "I—uh... that's all. I gotta... visit Pollo."

In the little time it takes her to finish the sentence, Leo pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and then holds the side of her face.

"Don't," she says. "There are people around..."

"Be honest," he inches closer. "You're worried they'll judge you for dating me? I mean, I know I'm no jock, but..." Leo is joking, but when Ara doesn't deny it, his smile falters. "Doll, that was the worst moment to stay quiet—"

She pulls him in, kissing him firmly. Leo doesn't burst into flames this time, instead, he wraps his arms around her. He tastes like apples.

"M'not ashamed," she mumbles once the kiss ends. "I'm flustered."

"Got it," he grins, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I—uh, I do have things to do though," she chuckles. "So I should..."

"Yeah," he doesn't budge. "Of course..."

"I can't leave if you don't let me," she grins, trying to move him. 

"Just one more kiss— Just..." Leo pecks her lips. "One..." He kisses her again. "More..." He tightens his grip around her, kissing her longer than before. "Kiss."

Ara's melting in his arms, and she's not even self-conscious about it at this point. Leo holds her face and pecks her lips one more time before stepping back. His smile broadens. "There. One and done."

She's looking at him in such a way that it makes his chest hurt. Leo hears someone approaching, and he doesn't care if others find out, but Ara does. He clears his throat, struggling to remember what he was doing before the girl walked in.

"Thank you for the food. I... I'll see you later."

Ara nods, still watching him with those warm eyes and flushed cheeks. He feels like he'll involuntarily combust if he continues to look at her, so he turns around and forces himself to continue working.

Once she's out of the room, Leo stops and leans one hand on the wall while the other holds his chest and clutches onto the fabric of his shirt, as if trying to push his heart back into place. He feels dizzy in the best way possible. 

Leo can't believe this is happening to him, but he's definitely not complaining. He vows to do everything in his power to keep Ara by his side for as long as the sun shines above their heads.

Next Chapter ->

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