#idk i was putting away a glass to be cleaned and. it exploded a little. whoops. no clue how.

[autism-corner]

dad wont let me be excited about my new wounds which he attributes to the horrors >:(

[curtsycream]

Cg kiribakudeku x little reader where she is like 2 and is a crawler like her cgs put her down and look away just a second and she is away and they freak out like "OMG I JUST LOOKED AWAY ONE SECOND" and someday bakugou is away like shopping and the other cg look after her and they looked away for a second and now she's gone crawling around the house and now bakugou is back asking where she is and they are like uhm funny Story we lost her and he is like WHAT and after searching the house he finds her and she is like DADDY BACK and crawls to him 🥺💕

KiriBakuDeku x Little!Reader

My first time doing this pairing idk if I did em justice or not.

Warning: not proofread this time (I couldn’t find my glasses)

When Bakugou decided to take a small break from hero work to spend more time with Y/N he didn’t expect her to disappear so often. The first few times he was panicked searching up and down the house to find where she was.

That is until he figured out it was a bit of a game to her. Each time she would crawl away from him after he put her down she would hide. It became less of a moment of panic for him and more of a game for her.

He couldn’t say no to her especially when she would look up at him with the softest look in her eyes each time he found her. Maybe he was loosening his edge but he didn’t mind it when she was involved.

Though he had a feeling he should have informed their other two partners of her Houdini tricks. Yet that thought never fully crossed his mind when he went back to doing hero work the following week.

It had only been about 30 seconds since Izuku had turned around to find her missing. He was frantic as he looked around the living room before running upstairs. In his search he found Kirishima walking out of the bathroom in a towel.

“Kiri, I think I lost her! I was cleaning up the living room and she was sitting on the couch! Then I turned around and she was gone, I’ve looked everywhere,” Izuku was rambling as he gripped his hair in his hands.

Kirishima was no stranger to Izuku’s frantic nature as he gently gripped his shoulders. “Hey, calm down we’ll find her. She couldn’t have gotten far in her headspace, she’s probably just crawling around the house somewhere,” he reasoned.

After Izuku was calm the two of them decided to search high and low for the missing little. At some point Izuku was close to calling and and everyone he knew to help them look.

As this was happening Bakugo stood with a frown on his face, he had a feeling he was forgot do something..

When Bakugo got home he noticed how the downstairs part of the house was in disarray. It was odd as it usually wasn’t like that due to how clean they were. Looking around he noticed Izuku pacing back and forth and Kirishima trying to get him to relax.

“What’s going on?” Bakugo’s gruff voice caused Izuku and Kirishima to perk up.

“Oh hey Katsuki, how was work?” Kirishima asked with a half-baked smile on his face.

“Cut the bullshit, Kiri. What’s going on with the two of you?”

Izuku tried to maintain a calm look on his face but the second his eyes met Bakugo’s it deteriorated. “I lost her! I didn’t even turn my back for long and she was gone,” he sputtered.

Bakugo stared at them for a few seconds watching as they looked anxious. They were expecting him to explode on the spot with the way he was glaring at them.

Yet to their surprise he smirked, “That’s what I forgot to tell you guys.”

Kirishima and Izuku looked at each other in confusion as they watched Bakugo walk to the cupboard under their stairs. With bated breath they watched as he opened the small door to reveal Y/N sitting with a smile on her face.

“Daddy found me,” she said.

Bakugo let out a laugh as he picked her up, “I always find you, you pick the same spot every time.”

Izuku looked between his two partners, “what’s going on? What do you mean every time?”

Bakugo shrugged, “she likes to play hide and seek when people look away from her. I found out last week when I thought I lost her just to find her in the cupboard. She always chooses that spot.”

Kirishima let out a small laugh of his own as he walked over to them. “Next time you want to play hide and seek let us know, Izu almost had a heart attack..” he whispered to the little as he caressed her cheek.

Izuku’s eyes were still wide, “and you didn’t think to tell us?!”

“I knew I was forgetting something.”

This is me trying, I literally was drawing a blank for a second before I wrote the ending. I forgot to include Bakugo panicking but I decided to add a little more to the request, I hope you like it <3

[takeariskao3]

i can’t wait for the sophie interaction you teased before. idk why but i LOVE when the exes talk to the main character i feel like they always let something slip and it gives all the angst.

- the sophie stan

crap now i can't remember what snippet i shared. should i share more? should i share the whole scene? no right?

ah what the heck. HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Grinning from ear to ear, Ginny collapsed into the chair across the table from Harry. The music blared loudly from some kind of electric speakers in the corner and the buzz of conversation in the crowded pub added to the noise. She felt alive for the first time in weeks. Blessedly relaxed now that they'd escaped the oppressive silence of a half-dead house.

“I LOVE IT HERE!”

Harry chuckled from behind his pint. "Yeah, now that you’ve cleaned everybody out.”

“No, not just that,” Ginny waved away her success in hustling darts. “They’ve got no clue, do they? About you, or me, or quidditch or any of it! We’re just people!”

He hummed, downing the last of his ale and pointing to Ginny’s watered down cocktail. “Are you done?”

Ginny swiped at her glass, hoping he didn’t see it was all ice. 

“Come on,” Harry reached for his coat. “You had your drink.”

“Just one more!” Ginny begged and she noticed him bite back a grin at her pleading tone. “It’s not even nine!”

He scowled at her from across the table, but she put on her most saccharine smile and after a couple lengthy seconds his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“Fine,” He huffed, then held up an index finger. “One more.”

“Harry?” 

They looked up at the same time to see a girl about their age, with sleek blonde hair smiling down at them. She had a slight gap between her front teeth that didn’t at all detract from her looks. If anything, it added to her charm, offsetting her strong jaw and full lips.  

“Sophie!” Harry visibly swallowed. “I didn’t think you still worked here.”

“Oh, god no,” The girl called Sophie laughed. “I quit ages ago. Just come round to see the blokes and rub it in. How are you? I haven’t seen you since you moved to Sussex…”

Ginny watched in dreaded fascination as Sophie pulled up a chair and Harry launched into a quick story about Teddy. This was followed up by Sophie chatting animatedly about her mum’s salon business and her dog named Clive. 

Harry regarded her with a genuine smile on his face, though he kept shooting Ginny wary glances out of the corner of his eye. 

“Er,” Harry stammered once a story about Clive jumping from a moving motorcar wrapped up. “We were just about to grab another round, do you want one?”

Sophie laughed, looking taken aback. “Always the gentleman.”

“Really,” Harry smiled sheepishly. “It’s no problem…”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m meeting friends.” 

Harry gave her a tightlipped smile and nodded once, then shot Ginny a terrified look before hurrying off to the bar. 

“God, he’s fit,” Sophie groaned, not bothering to hide the fact that she was staring directly at Harry’s arse. “Good in the sack too-”

Ginny choked on the ice she’d been chewing on, sputtering as watered down vodka stung the back of her nose. 

“Oh, sorry,” Sophie winced. “Have you guys not…?”

“N- no,” Ginny coughed. “It’s not… we’re not-”

“Woman to woman?” Sophie continued on, looking at Ginny seriously. “Don’t get too attached. He’s locked up tight, that one. Doesn’t let anyone in, and I don’t mean figuratively. We went out for months, and I never once saw his place.”

Ginny stared, her mouth slightly parted in utter shock.

“I mean it’s thrilling… for a time. He’s a mystery you can’t help but want to unravel, but then you never do and you’re just left with a headache.”

“We’re not together,” Ginny finally clarified, unsure if she could listen to another second without her head exploding. “I’m-” She cast about for anything she could say to a muggle, an actual muggle. “I’m his best friend’s little sister.”

“You’re Hermione’s sister?”

“N-” Ginny blinked several times. “You know Hermione?”

“Crazy hair, bit uptight?” Sophie scrunched her nose. “I don’t think she liked me very much.”

[itsallyscorner]

I'm loving your little mix works so much I wanted to request something if you're not too busy idk if you've seen the interview where perrie says that alex went to rehearsals with her because she couldn't get choreographies right and he would help her well what if tom did the same for reader??? and Jesy is soft for them but she won't admit it

Hi lovey! Thank you so much for the request! I added a little twist to it, but it’s still the same concept you wanted. AND YES, JESY LOVES THEM TOGETHER SHE JUST DOESN’T WANT TO ADMIT IT. I hope you like it, happy reading!💜✨

💌.

Patience

I hope you enjoy this! I honestly had so much fun rewatching Break Up Song over and over again to get the little dance they do in the chorus, it’s stuck in my head lol. That’s basically the dance the reader is trying to do, if you want to see the dance it’s somewhere towards the end of the Break Up Song video!

You watched the video your choreographer sent to you and the girls. You watched it over and over again, taking a moment to study the moves before getting up from the bed and doing them yourself. The video was a little dance Kayleigh, your choreographer, created for the Break Up Song music video. Since the pandemic was still in full affect and everyone was still on lockdown, shooting a music video at a studio was an absolute no go. As much as it sadden you and the girls that you couldn’t film your original vision for the video, your health and the crew’s health meant the most to all of you at the moment. Instead of not filming a music video at all, you and the girls have decided that it would be fun to shoot the video on your own at your own homes.

Which brings you to today. You were in your room, that you shared with Tom, trying to learn the choreography. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard of a dance, it was quite simple. The video Kayleigh sent you all was probably less than a minute. The dance was supposed to be done during the chorus, the rest of the song would be freestyle or clips of you all doing some nonsense for fun.

Your brows furrowed together, eyes glaring at your phone screen while you tried to figure out how to sway your arms and circle them to make them cross. Like Perrie, it took you a while to learn choreography. Unlike the other three, you and Perrie took extra time studying the dancers and had extra sessions at the studio to get the choreography down. Though it was sometimes frustrating, the end result was always worth it.

You cursed to yourself as the video ended for the twentieth time. You tried repeating the steps, watching yourself in the mirror, but it just wasn’t coming out right. You felt your body growing hot as you became upset at yourself for not understanding a few simple steps. You thought learning through a video would be easier, but no, it’s more difficult for you. There was no guidance from Kayleigh, she wasn’t there to tell you what you were doing wrong or what you were doing right. You just felt lost and confused.

Groaning, you snatch your phone from the table and throw yourself onto your bed. You take Tom’s pillow, hugging it as you lay on your stomach. You shove your face into his pillow, the smell of him with a mix of his shampoo bringing you some kind of solace from your frustration.

(Y/n)🌺: Girls, do we really need to have a dance in the video?

Perrie🦋: Yeah I agree. Do we REALLY need one?

Jesy💖: Don’t tell me you guys can’t get that?

Do you not get it?

Leigh-Anne😻: Huns, it’s like learning a TikTok dance

Jade💜: It’s so easy! Girls, it’s like 30 secs of the video. We always have a dance choreo in our videos!

(Y/n)🌺: But we’re bad at dancing🥺

Perrie🦋: You all know how hard it is for me and (y/n) to pick up choreography:(

Jesy💖: (y/n), isn’t Tom a dancer?

(Y/n)🌺: He used to do ballet and he was in Billy Elliot, he won’t shut up about it.

Why?

Jesy💖: Ask twinkle toes to help you, he might be able to teach you.

If he can teach you how to spoil things, he can teach you how to dance👌🏽

Jade💜: ^^^ she’s got a point

Leigh-Anne😻: Omg Tom did ballet?

Jesy💖: Lmao what a loser

(Y/n)🌺: That’s actually a good idea, I’ll go bother him rn:))

Perrie🦋: Right I’m glad (y/n) has a way to learn the dance but what about me? I live with a football player🙁

Turning your phone off, you hop out of bed and skip your way out of the bedroom. You walk around the house looking for Tom, but instead bump into Harrison and Tuwaine.

“Boys, where’s Thomas?” You ask them, stealing one of the chips Harrison was eating. With a playful glare, he softly smacks your hand. You cheekily grin at him as you eat the chip.

“He’s outside with Harry, they’re cleaning the patio.” Tuwaine answers. Harrison snorts, “And doing a shit job at it.” You quickly thank them and pull on the glass sliding doors to get to the backyard. You see Harry with one of those power hoses spraying dirt off the concrete as Tom stood to the side filming him. You wait for him to end his video before coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“I thought you were supposed to be cleaning with Harry?” You ask him, earning Harry’s attention.

“You know what (y/n), that’s exactly what I said!” Harry answered sarcasticly, spraying the hose dangerously close to Tom’s feet. Your boyfriend yelps, turning around to scoop you in his arms and move you both away from Harry and the hose.

“You dick!” He hissed at his brother. Harry chuckles satisfied at riling up his brother. He turns around and returns to his task at hand.

Tom puts you down on your feet though his hands remain at your hips. You look up at him, admiring the way his eyes and hair give off a sweet honey color in the sun.

“What’s up bub? Have you got the dance down yet?” He asks, thumbs rubbing circles onto your hips. Your face contorts together, nose scrunched up in irritation at the mention of the dance. Tom notices your change in expression and pouts at you.

“I’m gonna take that as a no?” You sigh, leaning into his chest and rest your head on his shoulder. Picking up on your exasperation, he pulls you in closer and places his palm on your back rubbing soothing circles onto it.

“I don’t know why I can’t just get it. It’s so bloody simple and I just can’t do it. Why am I like this?” You ramble, beating your head against his shoulder with every word. Tom makes a sound of disagreement as he gently pulls you away from his shoulder.

Before he can speak he presses multiple kisses onto your forehead making you giggle, “There’s nothing wrong with you, darling. It just takes you a little bit longer to properly learn choreography, there’s nothing wrong with that! You’re an excellent dancer in my eyes.”

You fondly roll your eyes at him, always one for the sweet talk, “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’ve seen you dance before (y/n), you’re actually good.” His eyes quickly rake over your body, “But as your boyfriend, I think you look extremely hot when you dance. Especially in those little costumes you wear during tour.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, placing a light kiss on his lips. “Hmmm, ok. Well, then as my boyfriend, will you help me learn the dance?” You try to soften him up with some puppy eyes and a smile that made the corner of your lips squish up to your cheeks.

Without any hesitation, he agrees, not thinking of how difficult it would be to actually teach you the dance.

~⏰~

Hours pass and Tom was slowly losing his shit. He loves you, absolutely adores you, like nothing in the world will ever make him stop loving you. But trying to teach you simple choreography was making him loose his mind.

Tom stares blankly at the floor, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. You stood a few feet away from him, cringing to yourself as you watched your boyfriend regain his patience with you.

“I love you.” You squeaked out sinking into your shoulders. Tom sighs and takes his head out his hands to look at you tiredly. He drags himself off the bed and stands in front of you. He cups your face in his hand, squishing it gently and playfully growls at you.

“Darling, I love you too.” He affirms with a fond smile. He lets out a breath before resting his forehead onto yours, “I just—why can’t you get it? I don’t understand.”

You pout at him and huff, “It’s not that easy, it’s really hard!” You and him had been practicing for a while now. For the first few minutes, Tom watched the video a number of times until he finally got the steps memorized. Then he took an hour of breaking down each step for you while you stood beside him repeating his moves. When he asked you to do it all together, all the steps you’ve rehearsed went out the window. Which lead to Tom breaking down the steps for you once again and so on.

“Baby, I did everything I can. I’ve done it really slow and explained each step to you.” He reasoned. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“But it’s hard Tommy!” You defended yourself, almost on the verge of crying because you still couldn’t comprehend the steps. Though you were probably overreacting, your whole day had been full of frustration; you were tired and mad at yourself for not understanding something so simple and now it was all coming together to make you explode.

“(Y/n), it’s like only ten to nine steps, you could do it.” Tom tried to encourage you. You groaned and pull yourself away from him. You plop yourself down to the bed, face smushed right into the pillows.

“I’m hopeless.” You said into the pillow, though it might have came out muffled for Tom. Tom frowned at your figure on the bed. He was upset at two things. One, he hated seeing you so frustrated with yourself. He just wanted to wrap you up in hugs and tell you that he was proud of you for trying your best. Two, he was mad at himself for kind of loosing his temper with you. You asked him for help and he did do that but he could have been a bit more patient. He knew you weren’t that good with rehearsing choreography so he should have expected the process to take a little bit slower.

“(Y/n), it’s swing, swing, round, swing, what’s so hard to understand?” Tom swung his arms like how Kayleigh did in the video, though his motions were quite harsh and sharp.

“I don’t know! I can’t swing my arms properly.” You complained, repeating his steps, your arms moving loosely.

“It’s just swinging your arms! There’s nothing hard about swinging your arms!” He exploded, throwing his arms in the air. An almost crazed look was in his eyes as he gripped onto the roots of his hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he took a breath in, “I need a break.”

Guilt filled him as he heard a sniff come from the pillow. Tom was immediately by your side trying to get you to look at him. “Darling, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

He sees you move your face so he can hear you properly, “No, it’s okay, you were just expressing how you feel. It’s my fault I can’t comprehend simple choreograph.”

Tom sighs, shifting so he’s laying against you, head resting on the same pillow as yours while he waits for you to look at him again. One hand supports his head and the other rubs circles onto your back. He feels you relax under his touch making him pull you closer because he felt like you needed the comfort. You were trying your best, he knew you were. In fact, he even saw you getting some of the steps correct, you just instantly doubted yourself.

“No, I should’ve remembered that it takes a few times for you to memorize choreography. I should’ve been more patient.” He began. “And you came to me for help and I did nothing but make you even more upset, I’m sorry.” He apologized. Your head rises from the pillow, Tom softly chuckles at the strands of hair that covered your face.

“Don’t say that, you did a great job at helping me, I’m just—stupid.” You shrug nonchalantly. Tom rolls his eyes, brushing the strands of hair that covered your face behind your ear. “Now that’s stupid, you’re one of the smartest girls I know.”

You snort shoving his hand away from you, “You said I was an excellent dancer and look at where that got us.”

“You are an excellent dancer, love. You just doubt yourself.” He gets up from the bed and holds his hand out for you. “Let’s try again?”

You glance at him then at his hand before finally giving in. You grasp his hand, using it as leverage to help yourself off the bed. Tom smiles proudly at you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “That’s my girl.”

~⏰~

Since standing beside each other was not doing the trick, Tom decided that he would try standing behind you. With your back against his chest, he outstretched his hands to hold onto your arms and guide them.

“Right, so we’re swinging this way, that way, then we go around and swing again.” Tom explained as he puppets your arms in those directions. You stare at yourself in the mirror and repeat Tom’s words to yourself. Tom glances at you from your shoulder, where his chin rested, seeing the gears shifting in your brain.

“Ok, we swing twice, then go around once, and swing again.”

Tom hums at you in response, “Yeah, you’ve got that part down.” He takes your left arm and brings it to your right shoulder, then your right arm to your left shoulder.

“After the swing we go chest, chest, so that it makes an x.” Tom continues to explain. You nod along, making mental notes to yourself. Suddenly, you jump, taking Tom by surprise.

“What happened?”

“I know the next move!” You beamed, shaking your arms from his grip and forming a heart with them. “After the X, we make a heart, and then it’s that shimmy thing.”

The grin on Tom’s face made the corners of his eyes crinkle and made his pearly whites twinkle at you, “Yeah, that’s right! Can you show me the stuff we’ve rehearsed so far?”

You purse your lips at yourself in the mirror, going over the mental notes you took in your head. The opening steps involved a little skipping in place while you punched the air three times; two punches on the left and one on the right. Then that would lead into the swinging, then the chests that make an X, the heart and shimmy.

“You remember darling, don’t doubt yourself.” He motivates you.

You jump around your spot and shake your limbs out, “Alright, I think I’m good.”

“Go for it, love.” Tom nods at you as he stands to the side with his hands on his hips, almost like a dance instructor or some teacher.

“I’m gonna sing the lyrics out, it helps.” You comment. Tom waves you off, “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“So it’s—so tonight I’ll sing another,” You skip and do the punches.

“Another break up song,” You transition into the arm’s choreography, swinging them and going around once. You jump so your legs are together and do the X with your arms over you chest. You make the heart and do the shimmies, squealing excitedly when you finally get all the steps done correctly.

“I DID IT!” You happily yell jumping into Tom’s arms. He catches you right on time with just as much cheerfulness as you.

“I KNOW, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” He cheers making you both jump in celebration. You hug him tightly, continuously thanking him. Without Tom, you probably would’ve never learned the dance properly and would have given up the moment you felt like it. But thankfully, you had a loving boyfriend who never gave up on you. No matter how much you drove him mad.

“Seriously Tom, thank you for helping me. You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it.” You tell him once he places you back on the ground.

“It’s no trouble, especially for you, I’d do anything for you.” He grins pecking your lips. You hum against his soft lips pulling him back in to meet yours again.

“Let’s just hope I can still remember this till tomorrow.” 

Tom chuckles against your lips, “Darling we aren’t even done yet, that was just the first bit.” You pull away from him, mouth agape, “Wait there’s more?”

[rezzyromance]

Oooo I had an idea- Moreau with a reader who is very cuddly n’ caring as well as very patient, but, once you make them mad, b o o m full angy creature mode. (Maybe someone makes fun of sal while testing the readers patience so they defend sal or something idk- (;^^)

This page is slowly turning into a Moreau fan page and I couldn't be anymore happier!!

You've been waiting patiently in the shack that you and Moreau stayed in together. He was called to another one of Mother Miranda's meetings along with the other Lords. As much as you'd like to join him for the meetings, him and the other Lords agreed that it would be safer for you if Miranda didn't know of your existence. Moreau understood the importance of keeping you a secret from his beloved "mother", but he failed to stay silent about you to the other Lords. He was just too proud and happy that he finally found someone who loved him like the people in the romance movies he watches love each other.

To try and make time pass by, you began to clean slightly. The shack was a bit messy when you first started living with him. Now, you like to help out and sweep from time to time. He also began to pick up after himself better, hoping to impress you. After sweeping for a while, you could hear movement in the distance. You look out the window to see Moreau returning from the meeting, his head hanging lower than usual.

"Hello love!", you call out to him from the window, waving to greet him. He glances at you and lifts his hand as a low effort way to respond. This wasn't usual for him. Usually he would greet you with open arms and a smiling face. Your heart began to sink slightly, worried about what may have caused him to seem so sad. Once he made it through the door of the shack, you walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek. "Is everything okay, Sal?", you ask him. You noticed how his cheeks were wet, streams of tears falling on each side. "Heeyyyy what's wrong?", you ask in a comforting voice, pulling him in for a hug. He doesn't hesitate to throw his arms around you and hugs you tightly. You could hear him sniffle as his crying continued. "Let's calm down for a sec and then you could tell me what happened, okay?", you ask him as you start to lead him to the couch. "..okay", he gives a quit answer as his sniffling continued.

Once you made it to the couch, you threw a large blanket over the both of you. You pulled him closer and wiped away his tears again. His breathing started to grow rapid as he tried to stifle his crying. You began to quietly comfort him, saying things like "I got you." and "You're okay.", as you held him close. His sniffling finally slowed to a stop and he seemed to be calm.

You pulled away from holding him and had your eyes meet with his. "Now.... what caused this?", you asked, wanting him to open up to you. He hesitated and looked away. "It's okay. It doesn't matter", he sighed. "C'mon Sal. It matters to me.", you say. "Well.... Angie called me ugly again..", he seemed embarrassed. "Ugh that piece of plastic? Can she even see with those marble eyes of hers? Obviously she doesn't see what I see.", Angie was a bit well known to be harsh with her words. It wasn't uncommon for her to say something rude about his appearance, but it also wasn't common for Moreau to be upset by her words. He was good at brushing off her harshness, so what else could be bother him. "..and.. Heisenberg laughed... and..", you could see the tears begin to pool in his eyes once more. You started rubbing his arm. "What else?", you push him to open up more. "He called me a moronic freak.... and said he doesn't understand how you.. love me and.. you use me to have a roof over your head..", he admitted.

You had stopped rubbing his arm. Your hand was now balled into a fist as rage began to boil inside of you like a volcano ready to explode. "Is that all?", you ask him, unaware of how aggressive your tone was. "Yes.. Mother split up the meeting after that and he laughed as he left..", he sulked. "You know that none of what he says is true right? You know damn well you deserve love more than his bastard ass. And you know I will not let him bully you like a child." he was caught off guard by your tone. Your jaw was clenched and your brow was furrowed. He was happy that Heisenberg's words weren't true, but he was worried about what his words may cost him.

"Where is he?", you ask as you stand up from the couch. "W-What?", Moreau stood up as well, unsure of what you were planning. "Where is Heisenberg? I need to...talk..to him.", you say. "He said he was going to visit the Duke and buy some stuff...", his hands anxiously began to fiddle with each other. "Take me to him. Lead me to where he is.", you demand. "I don't wanna make him mad!", he panicked. "Don't worry big guy. I'm just gonna talk to him a little bit.", you lie. You knew damn well you were going to do a little more than talk to him. "Okay..", he took a deep breath and began to walk and you followed.

There's never a good way to know exactly where the Duke is. He seems to pop up almost anywhere and always has exactly what you need. He did have a few specific spots that he would set up shop at though, and in one of those places is where you found him. You could see his carriage set up between a few trees on a trail. The Duke was discussing something with Heisenberg. "Ah (Y/N)! What can I offer you today?", the Duke asked once he saw you. Heisenberg looked over and smirked once he saw you with an anxious Moreau following.

"What's this? Did you snitch on me, Moreau?", he said with a cackle that followed. You never stopped walking, nearly marching, towards him. He was still laughing when you stood in front of him with little to no distance between the both of you. His laugh made you sick. So sick that you reeled your arm back and slapped the man across the face as hard as you could. His glasses flew off his face and landed in the snow and his laughing ceased. Moreau covered his mouth to muffle a gasp and the Duke did the same in hopes to muffle his chuckle. "Listen here you pretentious fuck.", you snap as your anger peaked. The man jerked his head to make eye contact with you. His gaze was sharp, but not sharp enough to cut away your rage. "How miserable do you have to be to get a kick out of acting like a bully on the school house playground? You have a lot of fucking guts for a man who dresses like he's living on the streets!" He leans in close to you to try and get you to react or budge. You don't move. "And you have a lot of fucking guts for someone who I can kill within seconds.", he threatens. You respond by slapping off his hat which had been poking your forehead. He grabbed you by the wrist and began to squeeze tightly. "Do you know who you're fucking with?", his breath hit your face. "Yeah, an ugly mother fucker.", you say as you kick him in the ankle. It didn't hurt, but he was shocked by your boldness and the way that you didn't even flinch. He knew you were aware of his powers, yet still you continued to taunt him and stand your ground all at once. You could tell he began to feel overwhelmed as his eyes looked around and his posture began to change. He knew he couldn't break you down. He took a deep breath and walked over to his glasses. When he bent down to pick them, you grabbed him by the back of his coat collar. You leaned in real close to his ear and whispered, "You better fucking believe me when I say I will fucking kill you if you ever make that man cry again. I don't give a damn if you're an oversized magnet. I'll rip you to fucking shreds if you even fucking look at him disrespectfully. Do you understand me?", you nearly spit in his ear. "Yes. I do.", he says as he rises up. You stand up straight as well, handing him his hat that you knocked off earlier. He takes it and looks over at Moreau and the Duke. Both of them had a smile on their faces, obviously enjoying the show they had witnessed. His whole body grew hot with embarrassment as he tried to act cool, putting on his hat and glasses. He gave a nod to the men and walked away.

"My, my, (Y/N). I've never seen anyone stand up to Lord Heisenberg like that. It was quite the sight.", he gave a guttural laugh. "What can I say? I won't stand for slander of any kind when it comes to him.", you motion over to Moreau who began to walk over. "Are you okay, (Y/N)?", he nervously placed his hand on your shoulder. "Absolutely. I made sure Heisenberg won't bother you ever again.", you say before placing a kiss on his forehead. This caused him to smile and wrap his arms around one of yours. "Well now that we're here, Duke do you happen to have any cheeses?", you ask. "I always come prepared for my loyal customers!", he says before handing over some type of exported cheese. You pull out the amount of Lie needed from your pockets and hand it over to the Duke.

The day ended with you both curled up on the couch in each others arms, watching a new romance movie neither one of you have seen, as Moreau enjoyed his new exported cheese. He couldn't stop smiling as he held you close. After today, he truly understood just how willing you were to fight for him.

[masterkief]

hiii this is really gross and I’m ashamed...pls forgive me and hopefully u enjoy. Also I did this from ryan’s pov so like idk?

- -

Heaven. I never really thought it existed, until tonight that is. Call me a weeb, corny, lame, whatever you want but when she walked into the room every once and a while and she danced with herself as she chatted up friends it felt as if the earth stood still and I was in the presence of a goddess. It was Saturday and some friends and I had gone to a party for the night. She was dressed in tight light blue dress that was decorated in various Animal Crossing characters, gripping at her curves in all the right ways.  Her hair was twisted in loose curls that fell just below her breasts and her smooth skin gleamed just as bright as her eyes.

“Aye ya big goof, just go talk to her!”

Although Matt was sitting right next to me his voice had gone distant as soon as my mystery girl had entered my vision. A sudden hand waved in front of my face attempting to draw my attention back to reality. I blinked slowly and reluctantly looked in his direction, my mind refusing to draw away from her. “Her” I didn’t even know “her” name, I didn’t know anything about her but still I was instantly infatuated.

“What?” I half growled, irritated that he took my attention from her.

He raised his eyebrows shocked at my irritable reaction, and then smirked when he realized why I was so mad.

“Go talk to her.” He suggested pointing his head her way.

I slowly turned my head back towards where she last stood and felt my stomach fall when I realized that she had vanished again. My eyebrows furrowed with slight annoyance that I had missed my chance because Matt needed me to look at him. I forced myself up but not before pounding my fist into his shoulder. The slight buzz from the alcohol I had gulped down was beginning to take over and I could feel my vision growing blurry. I searched the house up and down trying to find the girl who flooded my thoughts since the beginning of the night but found no luck.

“Fuck.” I grumbled to myself stopping in front of the table full of alcohol.

Drinking probably wasn’t the best idea if I was going to talk to this girl but my nerves were shot already and I hadn’t even spoken to her yet. As I was pouring the whiskey into my glass I glanced up and noticed the girl from before standing right dead in front of me, her eyes examining my entire existence intently as if she were reading right through to my soul. A hidden fiery lust began to burn through my veins and I wasn’t paying attention to my glass that was now overflowing with Jack.

“Shit!” I cried as the sticky substance soaked my hand and the table.

The girl giggled timidly to herself as she watched me flail and panic to quickly clean up my mess. When I had gotten it under control I looked up to see her smiling at me from behind her hair, her alcohol glossed eyes gleaming beautifully under the dimly lit kitchen light.

“Am I funny to you yeah?”

I guess they don’t call alcohol life’s “liquid confidence” for nothing because the confidence that suddenly filled my mouth shocked even myself. The girl chuckled again and raised an eyebrow seductively.

“In fact,” She started, leaning closer to me.

My eyes tried not to avert to her cleavage that was protruding from the top of her dress but I failed which caused her to laugh again and my cheeks to burn a deep shade of embarrassment.

“You are quite funny.” She finished slowly standing straight up again.

She put her cup to her mouth and took a sip. A droplet of the drink sat dormant on her bottom lip, her tongue soon traced the plump pink flesh to clean it off and she made sure her eyes never left mine. Hunger filled her brilliant eyes and I could feel a hunger of my own pressing firmly against the inside of my basketball shorts. My head began to spin quickly as the burst of confidence from before began to drain quickly, nervousness filling its place.

“So…” She began again placing her cup down. “What’s your name Mr. Funny?”

Words trapped themselves in my throat as I picked my brain for what my own name was.

“R-Ry…Ryan…Ryan my friends call me Ryan.” I stammered from both nerves and the liquor that swam through my veins.

The girl smiled again and shifted in place so that she was putting all her weight on her right leg and the table.

“Well R-Ry-Ryan,” She mimicked playfully. “I’m Y/N.”

‘Y/N’…her name floated through my head rapidly. I thought of beautiful things, like sunshine and rain and fields and fucking her mercilessly right here for everyone to see. A harsh throbbing erupted through my groin at the thought and my breath hitched in my throat.  Y/N’s eyes slowly moved from mine down to my hips and she absentmindedly licked her lips again.

“Ryan.” She stated knocking me from my inappropriate thoughts.

My eyes met with hers again as words escaped me. She tilted her head upward and eyebrow rose.

“Follow me.” She demanded with another radiant smile.

Without a word or even a thought of detesting I made my way to her side. She put her hand in mine causing a shot of electricity to ravage my spine as she led me throughthe living room where the music was the loudest. My head was spinning more rapidly now and I felt as if I might explode. 

We ended up on the patio, a cool breeze sending a chill down my spine.

“You smoke?” Y/N asked as she plopped down at the little glass table.

I watched as she pulled a blunt from her purse and cracked it open with her thumbnail, spilling the tabacco guts into the bush behind her. Without a word I sat down across from her, watching as if she might disappear.

“What?” She asked, looking up at me from beneath her eyelashes, “Never seen the devil’s lettuce before?”

She finished packing the blunt with the all too familiar green substance and I couldn’t help but watch her run her tongue across the end to seal it. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

Lighting it, she took a few hits then passed it in my direction. It was as if I never smoked before and I smoked every fucking day. Trying to keep my hand from shaking as best I could, I took it from her.

“First time?” She teased with a playful laugh, exhaling the smoke.

I couldn’t help but snicker as I passed it back to her, “I wish.”

We sat outside for what seemed like forever. My brain was finally able to comprehend sentences and by the time we finished the blunt it felt like we were long lost friends just catching up.

“You’re really cute.”

Her sudden compliment caught me off guard, causing me to choke on my cigarette. She giggled into her cup as she took a sip of her drink.

“I’m sorry.” She started, “That was really weird.”

Ha...weird? I’ve been obsessing over her the entire night and she felt weird?

“You’re joking right?” I blurted out, sounding more harsh than intended.

Her eyebrows pulled together with confusion and offense. Way to go Magee..

“Sorry.” I apologized quickly, throwing my cigarette butt. “It’s just you’re a fucking babe.”

She bit her bottom lip and stood up from her chair.

“Come with me.” She whispered, leaning into my ear as she passed me.

I obeyed silently as she led me back into the house and eventually down a darkened hallway. She didn’t even give me a chance to make a move as she suddenly threw me up against the wall towards the end of the hall, her mouth destroying mine. She bit at my bottom lip causing a throaty moan to escape from my mouth.

“Fuck me Ryan.” She ordered in a harsh whisper against my neck.

My hands grabbed and squeezed eagerly at every inch of her as we backed towards a door still attached to each other. We busted through not even checking if anyone was already occupying it and closed the door quickly behind us. I threw Y/N to the bed roughly, our bodies only parting briefly so that I could eye her up as she laid on her back, her breasts coming out of the top of her dress even more. I licked my lips and quickly put them on hers again. Soon they traveled to her jaw…then her neck…and then her collarbone as I left sloppy kisses and bites against her skin. I tore her dress down to her waist violently not being able to hold back any longer.

“Ryan.” She moaned as my mouth planted itself onto her right breast.

I bit and nipped at the skin making sure to let my tongue trace her perfectly hardened nipple. Slowly but surely I moved downward gliding my tongue down the valley of her stomach, stopping right at her hips. I heard her breath lodge itself in her throat as I got dangerously close to her core. My hands gripped her thighs, my thumbs digging into the inside of each one causing her to buck her hips upward. I moved back up to her face and her hands tugged at the top of my shorts. Our lips crashed together fiercely as I ground my hips into hers causing a more audible moan to come from her mouth. My shorts soon found their way to my ankles and I kicked them off, then sliding Y/N’s panties off from under her dress. We reconnected once again as I readied myself at her entrance.

“Come on funny guy.” She groaned eagerly, wanting me to enter her. “Show me what you’ve got.”

I smirked and raised an eyebrow, the tip of my cock now right against her slit. Her eyes widened, in complete disbelief that I was teasing her. She forced herself upward trying to push it in for me but I pulled away every time knowing it was driving her crazy.

“Please.” She begged. “Please Ryan just fuck me.”

Her begging set me off and with her least expecting it I plunged deep into her warm, and wet center. As her noises of pleasure grew louder and louder I pumped harder and harder into her, the headboard of the strangers bed surely putting dents in the wall.

“Ryan.” She cried, her walls getting tighter around me. “Ryan I-...I’m close already.”

I smiled against her neck and thrust into her as hard as I possibly could, surely about to break her. 

“Not until I tell you to.” I ordered, my voice shaking as I got close to my own explosion.

I pulled away from her neck and placed my hand over her mouth to keep any outside audience on the edge of their seats. Wrecking into her I felt her breath on the palm of my hand grow faster, indicating that she was right at the edge and unable to take anymore.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum!” I growled against her ear.

Soon enough she screamed my name into my hand, her muffled cry of ecstasy setting me off as well. I collapsed next to her, both of us breathing heavily.

“Christ.” She breathed heavily her legs trembling.

“I’m not just good at being funny.” I teased, my hand now resting on her thigh.

Y/N laughed her lovely laugh, which made my head continue to spin.

“I see that…”

[darksapphire29]

Imagine #5

Peter being afraid of needles.

Warnings: blood, needles, inaccurate description of wound-fixing (basically; don't copy how the reader fixes Peter cuz idk what I'm doing)

You pumped your legs harder, faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Your limbs ached with every swift movement and you had a stitch in your side. Your pursuers followed with an energy you had left in the camp.

“This way!” Peter hollered from in front of you. He turned suddenly, your exhausted brain making you nearly ram into a tree. Luckily, Peter had slowed to grab your hand. He dragged you along through a thicker and darker part of the forest. After a minute, he pulled you around behind a tree. He pressed his back into the bark, his arms wrapped over your stomach as he clutched you to his body.

The two of you stood immensely still, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down your back.

The pirates ran right past you.

The stupid men hurried off into the woods, and when their grumbles were out of earshot, you slackened against Peter. A relieved laugh bubbled up in your chest. Peter’s chest shook behind you. His angelic giggles filled your ears, and soon you were both trembling with mirth.

Not 10 minutes earlier, that codfish Hook had somehow found his way into camp. But it didn’t matter. You and Peter and the Lost Boys were prepared and hungry for a fight. Before you ran off to play tag, half of them were bleeding on the ground. It was grand fun. It still baffled you how they ever thought they could win.

“How many… did you get?” He gasped from behind you. You were still laughing, ignoring your ever-worsening stitch.

“E-Eleven.” You turned to face him, and he was grinning, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was a rare and beautiful sight. But then, he winced, and your laugh caught in your throat.

“You alright?” You took his hand, feeling familiar tingles from his skin on yours. It gave you butterflies, but something was wrong.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll just walk it o—” He cut himself off, collapsing into you. You caught him, you hand touching something warm and wet on his side. He cried out.

“Peter! H-Hang on, we need to get you b-back…” You looked around quickly, trying to remember where you were. You had never been to this part of the forest before. You looked back down at Peter. The side of his shirt was soaked in his blood, and some of it dripped onto the leaves.

You lowered him onto the floor, peeling back his shirt to look at it. A long line of his skin was split open, blood leaking down the sides and staining his paling skin. It wasn’t too wide, but it was deep. You guessed he had been sliced by a sword. It was a clean cut. Easy enough to fix. But that didn’t make it easy to look at. Against your wishes, you started to tear up.

“Oh my gosh…” You whimpered, staring down at the red in shock. “A-Alright. L-Let me see if I h-have anything…” You searched your pockets. Normally, you would bring supplies for something like this. You were basically Neverland’s doctor. But you hadn’t, this time.

“Peter, I-I don’t have anything!” Your hands were shaking. Peter grabbed them.

“(Y/n), it’s okay…” He croaked. He closed his eyes, frowning a little. Suddenly, he was lying on a cot, and you were kneeling beside him in your healing chambers.

“Oh, Peter, thank you.” You scrambled to your feet and ran to the cupboard. Gathering ointments and disinfectant and stitches and bandages while Peter groaned in response. You placed everything on the table beside the bed, gathering some cloth and a bowl of warm water.

“Okay. This is gonna sting, so, on three?” Peter nodded; eyes squeezed shut. You breathed out slowly. “One…” Peter’s breathing sped up a little, and your chest tightened. “Two…” You got some scissors and cut open his shirt so you could get to the wound. “Three.”

You dabbed gently on and around his cut. You swiped away any dirt and washed the cloth in water a few times when it filled with blood and grime. All the while Peter squirmed and grunted and whimpered. It broke your heart to know you were causing him this pain.

"For Neverland's sake, Peter!" You grumbled, washing out the cloth for the third time. "Were you running even... even with this?"

How could the poor boy even move with such a wound, let alone run around in the forest?

Peter shrugged while lying down, which you weren't afraid to admit looked really weird.

"What could I say?" He smirked. "You were having such a good time, after all. It was fun... you don't smile like that often." You shook your head.

"For the record, Pan, you hardly smile at all." He laughed, but his eyes showed his pain. Both physical pain and emotional.

There was one speck of dirt that wouldn’t budge, you using the corner of the cloth to try and move it. Peter squeezing the mattress, you finally got it out.

When you finished cleaning, you rinsed off the cloth again. Your hands were a little red. You gagged at the sight. There was so much of Peter's blood; on your hands, in the bowl, on his shirt, on his skin, on the cot... it worried you. And it had to be fixed up before he lost any more.

“Peter.” He groaned again, opening his eyes to look at you. There were swollen and misty. “I’m going to need to stitch it together.” Peter’s eyes widened. He recoiled into the bed.

This was always the part you and every Lost Boy hated most. You just hoped Peter wouldn’t kill you; on purpose or accidental.

You’d had stitches before, and it sucked. The only difference here was, you were all out of poppy seeds, and Peter wasn’t about to fall asleep any time soon. Besides, he was the lightest sleeper on the whole of Neverland. So, you were going to give him a needle.

He seemed to read your mind, and you saw he was trying to prepare himself. You gathered your things, dabbing disinfectant around the wound. But when you brought out the needle, he was stiff as a board. “You okay?”

“Of course.” He said a little too quickly. You giggled.

“Are you afraid of needles?” He glared at you, trying to look intimidating. You waved the needle in his face. He flinched.

“Aw, Pan, it’s alright. (Y/n) will be gentle with the scary needle.” You teased.

“Just get it over with.” He growled. Your gaze softened.

“Really, Pete. It’ll be alright. Loads of people are afraid of needles.” You tried calming him down, the playful mood dissipating faster than it appeared. Peter scoffed.

“I am not afraid of needles.” You smiled softly. It was cute that the tough and intimidating Peter Pan was afraid of needles, but it was a pretty big needle. You weren’t about to mock his pride. Not again, anyway.

“Wanna hold my hand?” You held out your other hand for him to take. He looked away from you before he (somewhat begrudgingly) grabbed it. You smirked.

“Shut up.”

You positioned the needle over his skin, and he looked over into your eyes. His gaze steering clear of the small but sharp object.

“Ready?”

“No.” He grinned sheepishly, before it was replaced with a look of fear. He gulped, clutching your hand. Just before you pushed the needle through his skin, a vase nearby exploded. You and Peter jumped, a few shards of glass flying across the room. One of them nicked your cheek while another got your arm.

"(Y/n), I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" You shook a little, the needle still in your hand. You looked over to where the vase used to be, little pieces all over the table and ground. Some were even sticking out of the wall behind it.

Lucky for you, th vase was on the other side of the room. So aside from a scratch here and there, you were fine.

You looked back down at Peter. "Uh... yeah! Yeah, let's just finish this."

He didn’t move while you injected him. And to your relief, nothing exploded this time. He watched you with guilt in his eyes.

He fell asleep almost right away, and you went to work sewing him up. When it was done you washed the blood off his and your skin, taking off his shirt completely and putting him in a fresh one. Then, you sat in a chair with a book and waited for him to wake.

When he finally stirred, the first thing he searched for was you.

“(Y/n)?” You heard, and you put the book down.

He was looking around the room for you, eyes blinking slowly and his arms stretching above him. It was adorable.

“I’m here.” You smiled. His head turned slightly to the side, finding you. He smiled lazily.

“Come here.” You sat on the bed beside him, he not even bothering to sit up yet. Which was good, since it would ruin your human needlework. He grabbed you shirt and tried pulling you down. But he was still weak from sleep.

“Oh, stop it, Pan.” You giggled, taking his hands away. He just linked his fingers with yours. “Your still injured, and there isn’t enough room, anyway.”

Peter pouted. “You know you… want to.” He tried, but then yawned slightly. You laughed at his attempt to seduce you. He frowned.

“You’re tired. Get some rest.” You kissed his forehead, standing up to walk away. But his hand was still holding yours.

“I just was resting.” He argued, going to sit up. You quickly grabbed his shoulders.

“Don’t!” He stopped. “You’ll hurt yourself. Pop the stitches I was working on for hours.” He chuckled.

“My hero.” You ignored the sarcasm, forcing him to lie down.

“And as your hero, I am ordering you to go back to sleep.” He rolled his eyes, letting go of your hand and sighing (rather dramatically).

“Only if you stay with me.” You thought about it for a second, biting your lip. You weren’t a sound sleeper. What if you touched his stitches? Or took all the blanket? Or rolled on him? Or pushed him out of bed? Or—

“Just get in, (Y/n)!” He laughed at your thoughts, and you gave up. You climbed under the blankets next to him.

He went to roll on his side to face you, wanting to hold you. But then he winced and stopped himself. Instead, he put his arm under your neck and tucked you into his side. You laughed at the awkwardness of it all.

“Happy, now?” You giggled. He smirked at you.

“More than happy.”

***

“So, All-Powerful Pan… wanna talk about your fear of needles?”

“Shut up.”

You laughed.

[starlightsearches]

Hi there can I please request a Hux x nurse!reader? I just rlly want a lot of fluff bcs I recently rewatched TROS and I felt sad again bcs of hux's fate. Thanks owo

For Good Luck

Of course! IDK if this is as fluffy as you wanted, but I kind of ran with it, and I think that the ending is nice and soft! Hope you like it 😊

Requests are closed for now, but will be opening again very soon ✨

Armitage Hux x Nurse! Reader

Warnings: Language, an injury and some medical care including needles!

“He’s asked for you again,” Tayan says in a sing-song voice, and you look away from him to hide your reaction. It’s no secret—to you or anyone else working in the medbay—that the general prefers you over the others. The real secret is why he prefers you, which is something you’re not really sure about either.

“What’s he here for?” you ask, leaning over the workstation to get a look at the report on the data pad, but he hides it from your view.

“Split lip and a bruised ego,” Tayan says with a shit-eating grin, “do you think you can kiss it better?” He bats his eyelashes in mock innocence, and you shove him in the shoulder, rolling your eyes. You’ve told him before—sworn on your life—that it wasn’t like that, had never even come close to that, and he still wouldn’t believe you. Not that the truth is any more believable.

“How’d it happen?” you ask, changing the subject, still trying to peek at the screen.

“Haven’t you heard?” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you. Tayan, you’ve learned since joining the Finalizer crew, is a terrible gossip. Those words come out of his mouth about as often as he breathes. Only half the information he imparts is actually true, but you don’t hold it against him. It is, after all, very entertaining.

“The Resistance escaped.” His expression darkens, any trace of laughter gone, an unfamiliar hardness set in his eyes.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, “are you serious?” He doesn’t have to respond. Not even Tayan would joke about something like that.

“The Supreme Leader was livid when he found out,” he continues, expression still grave, “I heard from Mina on the bridge that he threw the general into a wall.”

“Damn,” there’s not much else to say, and your heart breaks for the general, but you hope Tayan won’t see that as silence falls over the two of you for a moment, thinking about what might happen next. It’s times like this that make you grateful you’re not the one in charge.

“I guess the general’s been summoned to the Supremacy,” Tayan continues lightly, restored to his normal self, “but he had to say goodbye to his girlfriend first.” He drags the word girlfriend out like a little boy, and needles you in the side with his elbow when he says it. You flinch away from him, stifling a laugh. A comment like that doesn’t deserve a response, but you sink to his level anyway, flashing him a rude gesture before heading down to the exam rooms.

The prickling excitement begins at the base of your neck, and you force yourself to tamp it down. This is no time for flirting; obviously the general would be upset, and you’d have to be mindful of that. The flirting was mostly one-sided anyways, but occasionally you’d get a glimpse of something different, something softer. You lived for those glimpses.

When you first began working as a medbay attendant on the Finalizer, the general was essentially a myth. You never saw him, but you heard enough from the others to know that he didn’t like the medbay, and any time he was forced to come, well . . . everyone had a horror story, it seemed, and they all loved repeating them when shifts got slow. Personally, you had a hard time believing that the general could really be that bad, but that didn’t mean you had been excited when that asshole, Dr. Hebbit, had told you that it was your turn to perform the general’s quarterly check-up.

You had been certain that the others were playing a joke on you after the appointment. The general had been a model patient; the check up went smoothly as he obliged each of your requests without a word. When you finished, he had left with a curt nod, and that was it. The other medbay attendants had lost their shit when you told them that nothing had happened. Everyone had their own theory why the general hadn’t lashed out at you, but Tayan’s line of thinking had definitely been the most popular. Against your will, a little blossom of hope sprung up in your chest. 

Things only got stranger. After that first meeting, the general was in and out of the medbay on a regular basis, always for minor complaints, and always when you were working. You tried not to think too much of it, but that didn’t stop you from lighting up every time you heard that he needed your help.

And then once, just as you were cleaning up, you felt him behind you. Every part of you was on high alert, addicted to the tension but forced to ignore it as you washed your hands. 

“Thank you for your service today,” he said, and one of his hands came forward—still without touching you—fingering a tendril of hair that had slipped out from where you had secured it. He placed it back behind your ear, and you shuddered, tempted to lean back into him—so that you could feel him there, so you would be sure you weren’t hallucinating. And then he was gone. 

Moments like that happened a few more times, and every time they occupied an even larger part of your mind. It was enough to drive you insane, but no matter how much you wanted it, nothing more had happened. That didn’t stop you from imagining what it would be like. 

You clear your mind as you enter the exam room, and there’s a stab of pain in your chest when you see him. He’s never looked this small before, his shoulders slumped as he studies the floor, but you clear your throat to announce your arrival, and his posture straightens.

“Hello General,” you say, adopting your typical bedside manner, “I’m here to take a look at your injury.” He nods, watching you with careful eyes as you scrub your hands and then put on a pair of exam gloves. There’s already a supply tray set up by the exam table, and you glance over it quickly, checking to make sure that you have everything that you’ll need. Once you’re sure that it’s all in order, you can get started.

“I’ll need to take a closer look,” you say, gently taking the general’s jaw into your hands with a glass-delicate grip, and he opens his mouth obediently so that you can see the wound. It’s a small gash on the inner corner of his mouth, dripping a steady stream of blood down his chin and onto his neck, and you catch yourself thinking about cleaning it off with your tongue.

Gross, you scold yourself, rolling your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks. That needs to stop.

“Something wrong?” the general asks, the muscles of his jaw flexing under your hands, and you stiffen in surprise.

“No, sir,” the words come out rushed, and you look away, hoping he can’t tell how embarrassed you are, “just something in my eye.” It’s a weak excuse, but he doesn’t question it, and you grab a wipe, clearing off the blood with gentle precision. He smells like mint, and antiseptic, and the coppery sting of blood—none of which you particularly like—but now you think it might be your new favorite combination. 

“The good news is that it's relatively small,” you continue, applying a little pressure to the wound to staunch the flow of blood, “but the bad news is that you’ll probably need at least one stitch to keep it closed. I’d use bacta, but I don’t think it will work very well in such a moist environment.” You cringe inwardly; it’s strange to talk about the general’s mouth, especially when you have a finger inside of it, but if he’s bothered, it doesn’t show. And if he likes it, that doesn’t really show either. 

“I can get a doctor to do it, if you’d prefer,” you offer, out of habit. You’d given plenty of stitches working the medbay, but most people were a little less trusting when you had a needle in their face. Still, the sharp sting of jealousy bites at your heart. You’d come to think of the general as your patient, and you’re not really interested in sharing.

“That’s not necessary,” he says, and you relax only for a moment before you’re tense again at the thought of getting that much closer to the general’s mouth.

“This will hurt,” you say, and the general nods. "Do you want anything for the pain?" Another shake of the head, and you thread the needle.

He shivers when you turn back, glancing at the needle out of the corner of his eye, but you don't think it's from fear. Gently, and with more feeling than you’d like, you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip, and they part once again. You get closer, adjusting yourself between the general’s legs so that you can have a better view of the area. It’s not strictly necessary, but it does improve your view just enough to be worth it.

You hold the general’s lip down with one hand, and approach with the needle in the other. Just as you’re about to break the surface of the skin, he stops you, gripping your wrist with one gloved hand. You practically jump out of your skin, the movement startles you so badly, and it’s only by sheer luck that you keep hold of the needle. He studies the inside of your arm, completely ignoring the confusion in your expression, and thumbs the edge of your glove away, exposing the veins right at the bend where your wrist meets your hand. He pulls your wrist closer, like he’s going to bite you, but instead he presses his soft lips to the exposed area, and your vision blurs around the edges. The blood rushes from your head, and your pulse explodes under the contact. Your knees threaten to buckle underneath you when you feel the faintest trace of his tongue run over your skin, but he grips your wrist more tightly, holding you up. 

Your face is on fire when he finally returns your gaze, and although his expression is calm and untroubled, there’s a blaze beneath it. He wants you. He’s made that perfectly clear.

“For good luck,” he says, releasing his grip, and you’re shaking, your mind gone hazy from the unexpected turn of events. How’re you going to pull a needle through his skin now? You close your eyes and take a few grounding breaths, waiting for the blood to return to your normally-steady fingers, but it’s difficult when you’re still thinking about his mouth.

By some miracle, you’re able to gain control once again with a superhuman amount of determination and the strict directive to avoid eye contact at all costs. Once you’ve accomplished that, the actual stitching is fairly easy, and you tie it off with a quick flourish.

“All done,” you say, dropping the needle on the tray and removing your gloves. Even though your hands are steady, your voice still shakes, and you’re not ready to look at him just yet. “Just make sure you don’t smile for a few days.” He snorts in response as he stands, and you scold yourself. Of course he wouldn’t be smiling. Not where he was going.

Thinking about it again brings the feeling of a knife blade to your heart. He would be leaving, this is the last time you’d see him in a long time, maybe forever. Another stab of pain arrives; that was why he finally made his desires clear. He knew this was his last chance.

“General, wait-” you call out, but to your surprise, he hasn’t left yet. In fact, he’s still right behind you, like he was waiting for this moment. The determination you had moments ago withers slightly and you find yourself looking up through your eyelashes, suddenly shy.

“Yes?” he asks, like he always knew you’d end up here, and you raise your hand, emboldened, fitting it behind his neck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, closing the gap. You press your lips gently to his, hoping to preserve the stitch, but the general doesn’t seem to care about that as he holds your face in both his hands, hunger apparent in every movement, need laid out before you. You know the stitch has to be pulling at the tissue, threatening to pop, and you taste the blood as his tongue meets yours, but all of it is so far outside your realm of concern right now. He’s kissing you back. Finally.

You part from him, reluctantly, as he pulls away from you, hoping for just one moment more. You know you’re doe-eyed when he looks at you, already cursing the heat in your cheeks, wishing you could be less-obviously enamored. Hating how much you care. The general looks indifferent, to your disappointment, there’s no trace of his visit to the medbay visible at all. Like you never existed. Moments ago you were rippling with happiness and now you’re left empty.

“I’m leaving for the Supremacy,” General Hux says, adjusting the perfect fit of his uniform, and you nod quickly. The sooner he leaves, the better. You don’t want him to see you cry. The traitorous tears come anyways, and you turn away from him, clearing off the supply tray and hoping he won’t notice. The act works so well, you almost don’t hear his next words. “I’d like for you to come with me, transfer to the medbay there.” You look at him again in surprise, and you see it: the softness he had only barely begun to show, there in full force.

“Do you anticipate needing much medical care, General?” You’re not sure if you mean it as a joke or if you’re searching for some kind of validation, but either way the general doesn’t laugh. No, instead he steps closer once again, tilting your gaze to meet his with a hand on your chin.

“No,” he says, “I just don’t want to go alone.” The reason doesn’t matter. You already know you’ll follow him anywhere.

[neoarchipelago]

Citrus, Cauldron and Gun Powder Chapter 2 (Witch!reader x John Wick)

A/N: Well, this is pretty dark, enjoy, don't hesitate to leave a feedback... Hum yeah.. idk

This is highly inspired by this song:

Word count : 3 024 

Warning: BLOOD, CURSING, CREEPY STUFF

---

You didn't move. You still held onto Neko without making a sound. You were trying to control your breathing and your wrecked brain. That feeling of blurriness as the dark magic floods through your veins was addictive. You simply looked away, not wanting to stare at him any longer. The whispers who had been so loud a few seconds ago were finally shutting up and you closed your eyes, feeling the usual burning in them that finally told you that your eyes had gotten back to normal. You heard John move but you decided to stay still. You knew he wouldn't try anything. 

His voice made you slightly jump. 

"Are you ok?" 

You looked at him wide eyed. The tears had flooded your cheeks. He was sitting down, his back against the wall of the hallway, looking at you. He wasn't… scared? You nodded slightly, confused. However none of you moved. The silence was deafening but it was always better than the voices. You stayed like this for a few minutes and when you were finally ready to speak to him, you looked up, only to find him sound asleep. He was still hurt and had probably passed out. 

"You should take care of him. He tried to save you (y/n)." Neko spoke. 

You sighed and looked around the room. The moonlight was lighting up the room just fine, the dying fire of the fireplace glowing. There was broken glass everywhere… dead bodies… everywhere. The sight almost made you hear those awful little whispers once more. You groaned at the mess you were in once more. 

"I'm a fucking idiot." You let out, your voice raspy from the silent cries. 

You stood up slowly, taking a deep breath. He knew. You couldn't turn back time. You had to face it. Taking another huge breath, you took back control of all of your senses and got to work. A spell to the broken window, another to the broken door. More wood in the fireplace and another levitation spell for John. His dog walked with you upstairs and laid down on the bed next to him. Letting Neko walk into the room as well, you walked out and closed the door yourself behind you. The soft sound of the lock echoing through the house. The silence was suffocating, almost too perfect for what you were about to do. You let yourself slide down the door and sat on the ground. The cracking noises of the house perfectly clear, the eyes in the shadows perfectly visible. You were too familiar with this environment. With the darkness and what lied in it. 

Taking a deep breath you finally spoke out the words you knew way too well. Singing the macabre lullaby in a soft whisper.

" Glowing eyes in the dark, little evil lights,

let me hear how they bark, show me their bites. 

Let them roam free in my kingdom, as it is filled with poor wisdom, 

let them eat what's forgotten,the bodies and soul of the rotten" 

The groaning sounds echoed and you stared at the dark hallway, with the stairs at the end of it. The sound of paws hitting the ground, bites, growls, barks. You knew it wouldn't take long for the hellhounds to take care of the bodies, and you knew how fresh human blood was tempting to them. Your one job was to make sure they ate the dead and let the living alone until you threw them back into their dark little garden.  Not every witch knew how to summon hellhounds, those deadly beasts didn't hesitate on attacking witches, and other poor souls who were stupid enough to call them. You however… you were familiar with hellhounds. You had long reached dark paths of magic that many witches wouldn't dream of. You had befriended the demons hiding underneath children's bed, the wraiths in the graveyards, the whispers in the darkness that you don't think twice about or that gush of wind that makes you shiver unknowingly of what's hovering above you. The stairs screeched. 

The shadow in the mirror that you are unaware of when you go to the bathroom at night. The paws walked up, stair by stair.

The thing you don't see staring at you when you're sleeping soundly. The growling intensified. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar burn in your pupils. 

Or even… the glowing eyes in your closet at night. Or the ones of the evil little creatures who are just waiting for you to turn your back. You opened your now black eyes to stare into bright glowing red ones. The creature was hardly recognizable in the darkness. The dog like figure, with ripped skin, evil eyes, sharp claws stood watching you, halted by the darkness surrounding you. The soft black smoke escaped from you, your hair, your skin. It felt empowering. It did. That power rushing through you, the pure energy you had gotten perfectly used to. It was empowering to see a hellhound yelp at your sight, and run away. But it was also poisonous, for you and everything around you. The howling sounds grew more distant, until nothing was heard anymore. You stood up sighing. 

You walked down stairs looking around to check for any.. leftovers. There was still blood everywhere, but no bodies to see. You smirked and you knew you probably looked just as evil as those things hiding in the dark, with your pitch black eyes, that soft smoke rising around you and the devilish smirk on your lips. You couldn't exactly check that though, you had absolutely zero mirror in the house. Not that you were afraid of the things hiding inside of them. But out of fear of the darkness inside your own self reflecting into them. 

You had to clean up the splattered blood, and the pools of the red liquid on your beautiful dark wood floor. You could just throw a spell to clean it up, but you needed an occupation right now for many reasons. You walked into the kitchen, the sound of pan's hitting each other slightly heard. You wondered what creature had just escaped as you had stepped in but shrugged it off. Grabbing a sponge, something to scrub the floor and a bucket that you filled with water, you walked back into the Hallway. Kneeling down you started to scrub down the pools of blood on the ground. 

The little voices all around the house filled your ears. They laughed, and screamed just for you to hear and you scrubbed the floor harder. Your breathing quickening, you put more strength into your work, more than necessary. Tears filled your eyes, not out of fear or out of sadness but out of rage. Listening to the nonsense of the spirits and the villains that hid behind the darkness was truly maddening. Throwing away the bloodied sponge you exploded. 

"Enough! Shut up!" You half yelled in rage. 

Silence fell as you closed your eyes. You had long stopped to fear them, but you still remembered the first moments when you had fell deeply into darkness. You remember those nights awake, curled up in your bed, knowing they'd come for you. And they did. But they had not found a soft little girl curled up in fear. 

The floor creaked behind you and opened your eyes. Which creature was stupid enough to sneak up on you? 

"(y/n)?" 

Your breath caught in your throat. A stupid creature indeed, but with such a deep and soothing voice. You found yourself almost automatically losing your dark eyes as they were back into usual (e/c) ones. You turned around slowly, looking up at the towering figure. 

"Please… don't sneak up on me John." You let out.

He nodded, and none of you moved. 

"Who were you talking to?" His deep voice filled your ears once more. 

You looked at him frowning a bit, opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. As no answer seemed to reach him, he spoke once more. 

"Nevermind. I don't think I want to know yet." He let out in a low voice. 

You smiled weakly at him. Looking back down at your dirty floor you grabbed your sponge once more and dipped it into the water bucket. John moved, grabbing something as well and started to scrub the floor with you. 

"You should rest, you're still not fully healed." You said softly. 

"I'm much better than I should be. Thanks to someone" he finished eyeing you knowingly. 

You looked away and kept cleaning up the blood that splattered on the wall.  Silence fell once more.

"I didn't thank you for it." 

You looked at him, nodding at him. You didn't want to  be thanked. You were a witch, witch healed. It was a normal behavior. Even if you hadn't healed anyone in a while before John. Going back to your task you found the moment perfectly soothing. And in no time everything would be clean.

----

You looked around at the perfectly clean room as you sighed. John looked around as well before walking into the kitchen, you following him. He cleaned the sponges in the sink as you stood not too far. Glancing at the wall you noticed the bullet impact on the wall. The bullet that didn't meet its target. You sighed again and put your hand over it, as if hiding it. Whispering another spell, you took off you hand to a perfectly fixed wall. When you looked back at John he was staring at you. 'oh. Right. I forgot.' 

You eyed each other not moving. You knew he was going to ask it. You were waiting for that question. And you knew you couldn't lie. 

"What are you?"

You looked at him frowning once more and repeated your previous ritual. You opened your mouth to speak, without finding the right words. But you had to find something to say. So you went for the blunt truth, with no explanation. 

"A witch." 

No reaction. 'really??' you wanted to speak out but you prefered not to push it, you looked away. 

"And…" you looked up at him. " Do all witches talk so little? Or is it just you?" You gasped "because I've never been so forced to talk to someone in my entire life." 

You chuckled at his frown. 

"What do you want to know?" You finally let out. 

"Everything." His tone made you shiver but you nodded nevertheless. 

You walked into the living room, John following you. As you both sat on the couch, you sighed and looked at him. 

"You have to be more specific, or it'll take months. What do you wish to know?" You said. 

"How did you got to me?" 

You frowned at how the question sounded. 

"I didn't got to you. You ended up in my path trust me you cause me more trouble than anything else!" You let out coldly. 

It must have angered him because he rose from the couch and spoke just as coldly. 

"Ok, I don't have time to deal with a kid, even less a brat." He spoke just as coldly. 

You felt your own rage rise as you rose from the couch as well. 

"I beg your pardon? I'm probably fucking older than you and look who's talking Mister Sunshine." You let out, your voice dripping of sarcasm.

You both froze. Alright. This conversation had not started well. You sighed, but keeping a frown on your face you spoke out. 

"I was just passing by next to that hotel. The street had been entirely closed up and it was perfect for me to go home faster. I found your dog, who led me to you. I wasn't really going to… meddle in human affairs. But people were coming by and I heard they wanted to kill you. I have to be honest with you I didn't really think when I brought you home but it was already done so I helped you." You finished letting yourself fall back down on the couch, folding your arms on your chest. 

He mimicked you, and silence fell. Your eyes looked into the fire burning softly in the fireplace. 

"How are you probably older than me?" He asked, his tone tainted in confusion. 

You smirked. 

"Witches age differently compared to other living things. In some cases, they may never die unless killed. It depends on a variety of reasons and factors but we still live much longer than humans" you explained. 

"So. How old are you?" He asked looking at you. 

"Over 350 years old." You said in a smirk. 

"Definitely older than me, grandma." He mumbled. 

You glared at him, but his smirk made your anger vanish. He looked almost alright. It made your heart soften, and you mentally wondered why. 

"Are all witches like you? You look… powerful." He asked again. 

This time you felt yourself grow anxious. 

"No… they're not." You looked away. 

"So you guys have like? Meetings?" He kept asking away. 

"We do… but… I'm not part of it anymore." You let out, your eyes losing focus into the flames. 

"Why not?" 

You didn't answer. Memories flooding your mind. You curled up in the couch, your arms around your knees. Still not managing to actually look at him, you mumbled out something, hoping he'd let it go. 

"I got cast away." 

You could feel his stare burning into you. You were silently hoping it wasn't going to speak out that question. 

"Why?" 

And he did. You sighed. What were you losing on telling him? Perhaps he would do just the same right after, and you'd learn more about him. 

"I've always been… more or less cast away. I was born in a perfect little witch family, and I was the little girl my parents always wanted. But I was… different. I attracted darker energy, and I danced with darker spirits. I scared away the other kids when we played and practiced. I was… more prone to black magic we'd say. My parents quickly decided it wasn't good for the blood line so I lived with my grandma and she taught me everything. I learned to be good, to do good, and to cast aside anything dark. Around...1692…" John frowned, probably still not used to such old dates. "I fell in love…" your eyes were stuck in the flames that seemed to dance like a fire you once knew. 

"He was sweet, and I wanted to be his forever. Of course it was complicated. And things turned dark." Your eyes stung with tears. 

"What happened?" John softly asked, pushing you to keep going.

"The witch trials started. I don't exactly remember why or how, but many of us were being hunted down and killed. My grandma wanted to us run away, but I didn't want to leave. Because of him. I know I should have been more careful… I ended up being caught by his own father who sentenced me to burn at the stake. It's so cliché" You finished in a sour laugh. "I was kept in a cage, and he came to save me in the night… obviously we were caught. My grandma tried to save us both… but she was killed…" it was hard to speak in between your breath that hitched through the sobs you were containing. 

"And… his own father… killed him…"  rage filled you once more the memory so vivid. "I..I was… so... filled... with rage… that I forgot everything that I was taught … and I let the darkness take control…" you were angrily crying on your couch, now, the presence of John almost erased. 

"What did you do?" The question fell out of his lips and reached you without truly bringing you back to reality.

"I killed them… I killed them all… I burnt the village and the villagers… I let monsters ...roam free into the streets. I gave them what they wanted… an evil little monster…" tears fell slowly, as your eyes saw in the flames the same ones that burnt everything so long ago. 

"Did you love him?" John's voice sounded lower and angrier. 

"More than anything…" you spoke letting out another tear. "After that… the coven I was part of… that my… family was part of, decided I couldn't live any longer… my own parents were instructed to kill me… but unfortunately for them, I was lost in dark place, and I was the one that killed them. Seeing me as a threat for them, they stopped hunting me, the other witches and warlocks. But they cast me away. I am no longer allowed to contact them, or deal with them, any of them." You finished wiping away your tears. Trying to breathe calmly again. "I'm just… a monster for them… and they're probably right…you should be scared of me" you finished looking down.

"A monster is not afraid of another monster." 

His words made you look at him in confusion. You watched his lips, his movements, as he explained his own story. His job, his encounter with the woman who changed everything… the way she died and the puppy he was gifted with. Hearing the death of the poor thing made your own blood boil… you don't know what you'd do if someone killed Neko. You listened how he hunted down the awful boy and killed everyone in his way, but his past came crushing on him after that. You heard his troubles and the way he was so lost down that path that he crossed a sacred line, turning him excommunicado. You saw yourself in that story. You felt the same pain… 

"I'll help you. If you want me to of course … I'll help you John. You'll find peace." You told him, looking at him in the eyes. 

"Only if you allow me to help you find yours…" he spoke leaving you baffled. 

Help ...you? 

It has been a while since someone had wanted to help you. But you nodded, sealing a contract between you two that would intertwine both of your life in a way you never expected.

----

Tags: hope i don't forget anyone

@fanficsrusz @keanu-fics @celestiaelisia @glamorizedtrainwreck @baphometwolf666 @drunkonyellow @thatlibrachild @loohsouzar @idk-alli-it @keanuchillz @freshoutthebox @lustforfern @imblackmagicwoman @theolsdalova @thatbemyhouse @magdazwolska @shadowlyorphan @strangewhovian-blog @tnu-ree @oliviaistx @gypsydraig-thevetstudent @linwavez

[neon-sparrows]

Random thought I had that I figured would be a good request but what if Tim had caught hoodie breaking into his house at some point? I'm going off the assumption that hoodie had done so at least a few times considering he seemed to know where things were and stuff. Idk

so this is... absolutely not what you were after, i feel like,it’s just under 2k words long so it’s under a cut, for one, and i’ll be fucked if i know at what point in time this takes place, but!hoody breaks into tim’s house to steal his meds and finds him still there, more under cutsend me your requests! | my ko-fi

He's sitting on the floor of his kitchen, clutching at the broken pieces of what had been one of his remaining decent glasses.

To be honest, Tim's not sure why he broke it in the first place. He didn't mean to. He'd been doing his dishes. Something had startled him, a loud banging sound from somewhere in his house-- in his head-- and he'd dropped it. He'd stared down at the broken glass, figuring he should probably go on and pick it up, get a dustpan, and then--

then--

He doesn't know. Something shifted, like usual. Or cracked. Or sparked. Something rings in his ears and he's sitting on the floor in front of the sink, listening to water rushing down the drain and feeling like he should get up and clean up the mess and turn the faucet off but the floor seems rather inviting in this instant and he doesn't have it in him to move.

Shards of glass dig into his palms and he knows he's bleeding, because it stings, but it's not enough for him to find the will to move.

The noise was imagined. Some conjuration of his head, like usual. Something exploding out from the center of his skull and as he entertains that thought he pictures grey matter on the walls, smirks lightly as he picks diamond-glass-shards out of his palms with delicate fingers. He's beginning to think he slipped or something. Fell. Hands first. Or had he stupidly thought to try and pick up the pieces barehanded instead of getting his broom and his dustpan?

He wouldn't be surprised. Lapses in judgement and all that. He's not the sort of man to be a font of good ideas.

A few shattered pieces are dropped to the side as he picks them out of his hands, thinking that instead of the dustpan at this point he might need some tweezers--

a gentle thud on the other end of the house.

Tim's eyes slide to the hallway.

That one wasn't made up. That was physical. That was the sound of one of his windows shutting, gently enough to be easily missed but harshly enough to make a sound and the pain in his palms comes quicker than the thought that he should take his best knife back out of the dishwasher.

He also thinks he should probably care more about the fact someone else has just entered his house through his window.

He can't bring himself to, though. He picks another piece of glass out of the heel of his palm and wipes the blood away with his opposite thumb. He doesn't own anything valuable. The most expensive thing he's got is a guitar, and that was a gift, something hovering in the realm of $500 that he'd mostly just wanted to pay back.

Today's been an off day. He hasn't been seeing it, and yet he's felt entirely off-center since he woke up this morning. Lopsided, almost, like his brain was squished up against one side of his head and was risking oozing right out his ear. He supposes that's why he broke his glass. He's been hearing things all day, flickers of static and crackling flame in his ears and the occasional burst of shadow in front of his eyes. He ate breakfast. Went to work. Came home. Made dinner. Started his dishes.

He hears the sound of something rattling against one of the doors down the hallway and hopes the intruder won't go through his drawers for whatever embarrassing shit he's forgotten about lately.

Tim lazily entertains the idea of just going to his hallway closet to get his broom and dustpan anyway. Maybe he'd bump into them. Hope they weren't armed. Have a nice chat with a home invader while he bled all over the one broom he'd ever purchased for himself.

Another sound of rattling, closer. Bathroom door, maybe? Did he clean up? Did he shower this morning? He can't remember.

Lethargy's a bad way to react to this. His heart should be pounding in his ears. He should be opening the dishwasher and getting his hands on his sharpest knife, or seeing if he can find something heavier before whoever it is corners him, because there's not really a way out of his kitchen when somebody's standing in the way of it. Or call the police. His phone's on the counter. He'd been listening to music.

The water in the sink is still running. Is it plugged? Is it going to overflow?

Footsteps coming nearer. He pictures rattling lungs and heavy breathing, maybe something heavy, maybe something sharp, maybe something gunpowder-powered and terrifying.

He should be scared, he thinks, but instead he just feels tired.

A few more pieces of glass are dropped down into the reddish-crystal-silvery-glass pile by his left thigh and he examines his hands. The cuts are numerous, but not deep. They'll heal fine when he cleans them up. The glass is a loss, but he doesn't need a nice glass anyway, and he can always buy more.

The bathroom door shuts and he glances in the direction of the darkened hallway to see a silhouette moving through it.

"Oh," Tim says.

In the dim light of his mostly empty house, he's faced with a figure taller than him (and yet not obscenely, which is what he was expecting) who is slightly hunched over, the rattling wheeze of their breath the exact sound that he'd been busy wondering about. They're clad in a ratty looking beige hoodie, black gloved hands pressed against their side and their face covered in a hood, a perpetual frown in bleached out red staring down at him.

Fear's the right response. To scream. Snarl. Threaten. Fight. But he doesn't. He remains where he is, still, bloody palms upturned, looking into those unscrupulous red eyes and wondering what's going to happen next.

"You broke into my house." He says, dumbly.

"You're not awake." It's a raspy tone of voice that sounds somewhere between irritation and an order. The sound of their voice is-- wrong, somehow, a lingering sensation of discomfort in his ears and the sensation of fingertips down the length of his spine--

"I am awake." He protests.

"You're not." The other replies. Tim thinks their voice sounds masculine. He can't tell. "Your eyes aren't open."

"They are." He mutters in reply, and the two of them remain where they are. "You broke into my house."

In the lapse of silence there is nothing but the faucet and what Tim halfway guesses is his heartbeat, under the rasping, phlegmy wheeze of the stranger's breath.

"What did you do to yourself?" The rasp comes again, and Tim pictures lips pulled back into a snarl in a face both familiar and not, an expression of displeasure or contempt or-- something that he has no name for, because his head feels foggy and his hands are throbbing a little bit.

"I dropped a glass. Was trying to clean it up. Got sidetracked, I guess."

"By shoving your hands into it?"

It feels familiar, sort of. Like it should feel familiar but it doesn't, like looking at a scene through a broken mirror and having something reflected back in the wrong order, cards shuffled and dropped to remain where they are, the broken glass crunching under his boot and digging into his palms to make them bleed.

"You broke into my house."

The hooded thing says nothing to him in reply, and Tim can't see the other's face, so he doesn't know what the expression is. In his mind's eye he can picture what is a face and what is not, the empty red-bleach eyes staring down at him shielding features of a face that he swears he knows, or something in him does, and there's a tension in his chest that he has no name for.

He's expecting something else. Some sort of conflict. If the stranger's so certain he's asleep, he should probably be expecting a blow to the skull, or having something shoved down his throat, and waking up-- what, in a tub of ice, missing his kidneys? Probably not. If they wished ill on him they would've done it by now, he thinks. Murderers didn't usually stop for a chat, did they?

"You're a mess." The stranger says, and Tim wonders if that's an insult.

"Yeah." There isn't much to do but agree.

The figure moves past him and Tim looks up towards them, his palms still upturned, resting on his thighs as the rattling wheeze continues through their lungs. His cabinets are opened. Dishes. Food. Cleaning supplies. Junk drawer--

He hears fabric-clad fingers closing around a half empty pill bottle tucked into the drawer and realizes in the lethargic fog of his brain that that must have been what they were after in the first place.

The hooded man steps over him, past him, boots crunching on the glass Tim had left beside him. The pill bottle in one hand, and the stranger turns the faucet off, lingering there and not looking down at Tim.

They turn, after a moment, and Tim reaches for their pant leg on reflex. Blood smears across the denim and the hooded man stops where he is. His grip on the pill bottle tightens, the contents rattling somewhat.

"I know you." Tim says, numbly.

"You do not." The hooded figure replies.

"I know you." He repeats himself, looking up at him, and the immutable frown stares back at him. He's picturing a face, sort of, picturing features that have been smeared out, like someone made a mess of an old photo. He can't pick out the right pieces. Can't remember it right.

His vision blurs slightly to match.

"You are asleep." The stranger says, their voice lower, harsher and raspier as they speak softer. Tim wonders if it was intended to be comforting. "Or you will be asleep soon."

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No."

"Great."

His vision blurs and he feels a tension gathering at the base of his skull. He doesn't release his grip on them. He tightens it, in fact, and tries to put the pieces in order. Wipe away the smears until the picture in his head straightens itself out and he'll know, because he does know, knows something in the pit of his stomach and the center of his skull and oh, that ringing in his ears is a few pitches too loud, and remarkably uncomfortable.

He doesn't know what he expects. Trouble, probably. Danger. A threat. To be kicked, mostly, with the way he's clinging to their leg the way a child does, because they've just broken into his house to steal his medicine and he knows his prescription's being refilled in a couple days anyway, but do they know that?

"I know you," he says, but he doesn't think he does. Must just be one of those faces, incomprehensible and unknowable and everywhere and something in his chest stings.

"You can pretend." The reply is neither hostile or apathetic. It simply is. The gathering pressure at the nape of Tim's neck lingers further and he recognizes it as a precursor, a risk, the inevitable warning of an oncoming seizure and the stranger has taken his medicine.

He doesn't loosen his grip as he stares up at them, and those eyes stare back down. His fingers and toes feel numb. He probably should've cleaned up the glass better. He feels fuzzy, and feels a sudden jerk in one of his arms.

Tim exhales, slowly, and tilts his head back against the cabinet, mouth open and eyes shut.

"I'm pretty good at that." He murmurs. "Pretending, I mean."

"I know." The denim is no longer in his grip. The stranger has moved away, out of his reach. "Good night."

Tim does not answer.

[gladiasama]

how they are when they drank too much

i know, this is a dumb title lol should i write for like for unità speciale or maybe passione? idk

Risotto:

ouuh, you need a lot of drinks and alcohol to make him a little dizzy. If there is a miracle, you can see him with pink cheeks, his face on his hands. You think maybe he will not say anything coherent but no, he's perfectly clean and remembers who you are for him.

when you are in the street to return at home, surprising, he'll only hold your tiny hand in his big palm. He’s not very into pda with you, mostly when he’s in public like that!

when you return at home, you pull back his bell hat and his black coat for him while he fall asleep in his comfortable and hot bed. you caress slowly his face when a tiny and shy smile draws on his lips. You blush and kiss his alcohol flavor lips. Cute capo.

Prosciutto:

not a simply drinker: he'll not drink some beers or wines that everybody can buy. No. Will literally explode the budget: 700 dollars a little bottle of wine? Yes darling, of course. He’ll pay attention that anybody won’t drunk his bottle or he’ll be angry lol. When he’s drunk, he is a little more joyful with you but his temper can change in one second. Don’t let him approach Ghiaccio, they will fight until death.

when you return at your or his house, he’ll only pass his arms on your shoulders and probably rest on on it. His buns are completely undone, his alcoholic breath sting at your nose when he tried to kiss you. 

at your/his house, he kicked back his expensive shoes and will directly lay on his bed. He began to talk about his life, about the fly which was in the window, just about everything. Shut up and sleep on me darling.

Pesci:

he doesn’t like alcohol so much, he finds it too much bitter and hard for him he prefers milk of course so when you take him drink and eat, he remembers Prosciutto’s advices which tell him to be a man and not drink child’s drinks.

so after 2 or 3 full glasses of alcohol, his head is on the table and when someone try to talk to him, he’ll scream and shout at them with an angery voice, just, don't talk to him maybe leave him alone and he'll come to you because he feels lonely and in bonus don't make him drink again.

at your house, he'll probably pounting because he's angry and doesn't know why. He'll calm down a little and will regret about drank too much glasses for him because during all the evening, you had to calm him down so you couldn't relax around a good glass also you had to take care of a drunk Illuso who was bullying by pinneaple guy.

Formaggio:

ouuuh huge drinker. But also cool and cute man. He needs a lot of drinks to make him fall to the ground and sleeps. Buy everything he likes even if the alcohol cost a little too much. If you want, he'll let you drink his glasses while he stares lovely at you. Tiny babe.

it will take a looong time for you to return at home. He has to put his arms on your shoulders while you put your hands on his hips. He put all his weight on you while he tries to kiss you and poke your cheeks with his fingers. Cute little cheese man.

you can't sleep during all the night, he'll cry because he wants to be with you during all his life and he doesn't realize that you are with this little cute cheese forever. Problem: he thinks that you are a stranger and not his lover so good luck to make him go down from his shelf. Also he cries during all the night because he wants to kiss and hug his pretty lover.

Illuso:

he'll drink when he needs: feels sad? Go to drink with you but all the squad will come with you too, thanks Melone darling. He can drink everything but prefers sweet things or probably tries and drink some drops of your drinks. He thinks the glass has a better taste with your lips on it.

please, protect him. Drunk Pesci bullies him by pulling his cute ponytails while he's crying your name, tears on his cheeks. He feels so lonely when you leave him like 5 seconds to make Melone wears his clothes that he removed, so he'll cry again. Just, hold his hands and kiss him to go to home.

there is a big chance that he'll put his arms around you while his head rests on your chest. Pat his hair and he'll fall asleep when you remove the tears on his skin. Oh don't cry lulu, you never let him alone.

Melone:

you have a long day so go to a bar with Melone. Even if you don't want, he'll put you on his bike while drive you on a bar that he is not on the black list. He'll kiss you by surprise while you drink at your sweet drink. Wink wonk, tries to drink what you are drinking. No sweety, please don’t.

there are 2 possibilities when he drinks too much: he can strip and try to walk naked in the room so it’s a big problem or there is a big chance, like 95% of chance that he’ll sit on your legs or hips and kiss you. Maybe he’ll just kiss you, lick your face or something like that, wriggle a lot on you or if you are lucky, he’ll just fell asleep on you. Good luck because you have yo carry him in your arms at home. He tries to make a dirty dance on you.

he hugs you while he sleeps, so no way that you can escape. Throw yourself on the bed, he’ll lay on you and put his head between your neck and shoulders. You just have to take care of him, pamper melon boy and if he awakes, he’ll show you all his love and affection ;)

Ghiaccio:

don’t drunk too much: only when the squad go to drink, he’ll just follow because he doesn’t want to be alone poor kitty. He’ll drink harsh and strong alcohol only to prove to the others that he’s not weak and can hold alcohol. Wrong idea to take a lot of whiskey glasses.

He’ll fight and hit Prosciutto because he said that kitty doesn’t drink that but milk, like kid. Foolish. You have to separate them so you leave the bar with Ghiaccio before everyone so you can take care of him and help him relax after this fight. He’ll scream in the street.

he needs to expel all the energy he reserves in his body so give him a pillow and he’ll hit until he fall asleep like a cat. Pat his hair, cheeks or behind his ears and pull his ringlets in your fingers, he’ll be a putty while sleeping. Cute, protect him please.

Sorbet and Gelato:

Like Ghiaccio, they follow everyone or if they boring, they will drag you on a little isolated bar with strange men. PDA. A lot of PDA. Gelato will sit on Sorbet’s laps while his head is on your shoulders and you HAVE to pat his hair. Its a need for him. Sorbet will maybe let you drink a little bit of his drink but won’t let Gelato boy drinks its: he can drink it in 2 sips. 

because of the fast sips he takes, Gelato is ill. First, he only says to you that he doesn’t feel good so be gentle to him. 15 minutes later, you have to accompany him to the toilets, 2 seconds later, Sorbet and you pat his back while he spew all his stomach. Sorbet hold the alcohol pretty good so you don’t have to take care of him. 

sorbet needs to held him on his back while you open the door of your house. Gelato is such a baby so strip him, make him lay on the bed, kiss him etc. Sorbet will probably try to sleep with you but Gelato doesn’t agree with you, Sorbet had to share you with him even if he’s sick, so hug him too, he’ll smile on your skin. Sorbet has to sleep on the sofa, Gelato kicks him far away while he cuddles with you.

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: The Puzzle Breaks (Chapter 15)

A/N: Idk how to feel about this chapter, to be honest. I hope you enjoy cause...I certainly don’t.

summary: Everything goes wrong

words: 3,003

warnings: Negative thoughts, blood, kissing, injuries, fights

Ao3 Link

“Are you gonna do the musicals?” Charlotte inquires as the gang makes their way to lunch. They sit down at their table unpacking their lunch. “I'm definitely going to audition!” She exclaims cheerfully, Emma smiles at her happily.

“I don't know yet” Ted mumbles mouth full of food, looking as though he might never eat again.

“Ted!” Tommy exclaims from his other side, he pulls out a napkin wiping Ted's mouth softly. The group smiled at the pair's antics, they had enjoyed Tommy's presence in the group especially his influence over Ted's mood. Bill watched the pair curiously, his stomach knots every time someone got close to Ted but he had gotten used to Tommy. He was just so scared about what might happen. “God, you're such a mess” Tommy comments.

“I’m sowwy” Ted pouts, he turns to his lunch “It's just this food is so good. Who knew Professor Hidgens could cook so well” Ted whines delightfully. He buried his face in his food, snorting more. Tommy giggles excitedly at Ted who blushes bright red.

“Dorks, the both of you” Emma says, unpacking her lunch neatly. The group laughs and continue their conversation. “I'm definitely not doing them, I mean really… imagine me singing” She practically laughs at her own statement.

“I'm sure you’d be amazing” Paul reassures sipping his soup. Emma flushes a light crimson and thanks him quietly. “I, however, dont think I'm the best actor or singer” Paul adds

“Omigosh! Ted!” Tommy shouts suddenly. The group turns to see hot chocolate spilled all over the table. Tommy is scurrying to wipe it up, Ted apologizing profusely. “It's ok, It's ok! Just please be more careful” Ted nods frantically, Bill puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Once the mess is clean Ted turns back to the group, followed by Tommy. “I think I will audition! It could be loads of fun-”

“I'm auditioning to” A new voice was added to the mix. The group looked up but not quick enough. Paul jumped up and stood glaring. “What? Its open call?” Billy sneered. Paul balled his fists ready to pounce. Emma acted fast and carefully pushed Paul down to sit. They whispered amongst themselves. Ted wasted no time, He pounced up and ushered away from Billy, followed by a very scared Tommy. “What? Are you scared” Billy teased, Bill bit his lip, but he had had enough. He stood up calmly adjusting his glasses. The cafeteria turned quiet as everyone watched intently. Ted instantly moved closer to his friend. “Aww, specs over here is gon-”

Everything happened at once. Bill moved quickly shoving Billy away from the table, anger fueled his movements. Once Billy had registered what had happened he moved towards Bill but was too slow. Bill landed a punch and another and another. Ted raced forwards grabbing his friends arms and holding him back. Bill shoved and pushed against Ted, not enough to hurt him, that's the last thing Bill wanted. Paul and Tommy moved quickly to hold Billy back, they ushered him away from the cafeteria and he left resigned. Ted led a now hidden Bill out of the room into a dark corner of the school, checking the coast he slowly pulled away. He examined his face watching the soft tears fall from his smaller friends face. Ted felt his heart sting he carefully took Bills glasses off his face and wiped them with the end of his shirt. Bill rubbed his eyes drying his tears, he couldn't meet Ted's eyes. He placed the glasses back on his friends face.

“Bill?” Ted's voice choked, he felt himself trying not to cry. Bill shuffled away looking down at his hand. He balled his fist holding it, it was bleeding. “Bill… what… what just happened?” Ted begged. No response, Bill stood examining his injured fist, he squeezed his eyes hard.

“Just leave me alone” He said finally, before Ted could respond, Bill shoved past him and walked away down the hall. Ted choked back a sob but couldn't keep it in. He collapsed softly into the corner and cried into his knees. He sat there for awhile hidden from the now crowding halls until he heard a loud shuffling of feet approach him.

“Ted? Oh Ted…” Tommy kneeled in front of Ted and lifted his head out of his knees. His face falls as he sees the tears pouring out of Ted's sweet hazel eyes. He used the thumb of his fingers to wipe away the tears, Ted felt ashamed. He shivered, he was so cold, so so cold. Tommy noticed and looked back at the halls now clearing as kids made their way into class. “Come here…” Tommy carefully supported Ted up and led them out of the school and towards the back of the building. He then set them down under a hidden tree, the leaves hung all the way to the ground creating a secret cover under the tree. Tommy pushed the vines away revealing a small space for the two to sit in. He sat Ted down on a soft patch of grass, the soft light of the sun cut through the compact vines creating a misty aura. Ted sat still holding himself, he felt warmer outside with the sun shining on him a little more. Tommy secured the vines closed creating an enclosed space and sat in front of Ted. “What happened Teddy?” Tommy asked softly, still holding Ted's hands in his own. Ted felt himself swoon over the sweetness in the nickname. He lifted his head slightly feeling awful, he was tired, his face covered in salty tears, and shivering like mad.

“I-i don't know” Ted finally managed “He… that's not… Bill isn't like that” Ted cried leading to more tears. Tommy moved closer, stroking Teds face carefully. He waited patiently, take your time love, take your time. “Somethings...wrong… with him. I dont… I dont know what to do anymore. It's all my fault! All of this! All because of my stupid feelings!” Ted exploded, so defeated. Tommy had heard enough, he shuffled forward until he was so close to the poor boys face they could feel each others breathing.

“This is NOT your fault” Tommy maintained a steady voice, determined but still soft. “What you are feeling, who you have feelings for, everything? Its all ok, it's not your fault Ted” Ted looked up meeting Tommys eyes finally, he felt himself melt into them “Bill is mad, not at you, but at Billy. Which by the way, whos idea was it to put Billy and Bill? Whatever” Ted chuckled weakly “You are doing your best, Ted you are amazing with Bill. I saw you at lunch that one day, the way you handled his attack? You were...perfect” Tommy gushed, he felt his gaze grow deeper. “So perfect…” He mumbled examining Ted's face, his shining eyes, his rare but beautiful smile, the way his hair fell onto his face. He wiped more tears away softly, still holding Ted's hand, with no intention of letting go. The wiping slowed and they sat in a delicate silence. Tommy wills himself not to look down but fails meeting Ted's lips. He panics in his mind as his body moves without his permission. Pressing a soft kiss onto Ted's lips, expecting to be pushed off, but instead greeted with a soft gasp. Tommy shut his eyes as Ted suddenly returned the gesture.  They melted into each other, it was…

Perfect.

Tommy cupped Teds face deepening the kiss. It felt so easy, so comfortable, they pulled away desperate for air. Neither dared to meet each other's eyes, suddenly Tommy felt himself pulled into another kiss. Ted wrapped his arms around Tommy's waist, Tommy smiled into the kiss, putting his arms around Ted's neck.

What would your father think?

Ted thought for a moment, he had never felt happier. This, this felt right. Sitting here with one of his favorite people in the world, he had never felt more… loved.

What do I care?

And that was it, the voice disappeared and Ted put himself fully into the kiss. Finally gaining control over himself, he pulled away hearing a soft disappointed moan escape Tommy's mouth. He cupped The bespeckled boys face and smiled happily.

“Thank you” He whispered still gasping for air. “Thank you for everything” Tommy smiled. But it was different, Ted had seen Tommy smile before. But this was different, it wasn't just his mouth. His entire body smiled, happiness radiates off of the small boy. His eyes were smiling.

The Duchenne Smile

Ted reminded himself to thank Bill for that one before pulling Tommy in once more and disappearing into happiness, ignoring the rustling he thinks he hears in the back of his mind.

~~~

Bill raced away feeling everything he once was, and once knew fall away leaving a broken trail behind him. He didn't know where he was going but he kept going. The image of Teds shattered face kept replaying in his mind, begging him for an answer. He didn't know, he had no idea what had just happened. His injured fist was a reminder of it, he could feel the blood pooling into his other hand cupping the fist. He reaches the outside and races over to the back of the school settling into the grass collapsing. He sobs to himself confused and desperate for someone. He shakily pulls out his phone searching frantically for his dad's phone number, his watery eyes blurred his vision. He hears the cracking of leaves and rushes to hide behind a bush, softly leaning into it. He hears the feet coming closer until they are right next to him. He draws a sharp breath and listens. He hears a soft voice telling someone to come in. He hears them settle into a nearby tree, hidden under the leaves.

Nows my chance

Go!

He starts to leave but is stopped by one sad question.

“What happened Teddy?” A faraway voice asks sadly. Bill freezes.

Ted… and Tommy

He recognizes the boy's nicknames and the voice. He collapses back down, clutching a hand over his mouth. Images of his friend race through his mind. As he listens to the conversation his entire body shakes.

“I-i don't know” Bill hears Ted's voice admit

He sounds so…

“He… that's not… Bill isn't like that”  Ted cries

He's… talking about me?

“Somethings...wrong… with him. I dont… I dont know what to do anymore. It's all my fault! All of this! All because of my stupid feelings!”

He's blaming himself. I did this, he thinks it's his fault…

A pause falls through the conversation. Until finally Bill hears Tommy speak up, determination filling through his voice.

“This is NOT your fault” Tommy begins. “What you are feeling, who you have feelings for, everything? It's all ok, it's not your fault Ted” Bill cripples under everything “Bill is mad, not at you, but at Billy. Which by the way, whos idea was it to put Billy and Bill? Whatever” Bill smiles sadly at the sound of Ted's chuckle “You are doing your best, Ted you are amazing with Bill. I saw you at lunch that one day, the way you handled his attack? You were...perfect”

He was, he was perfect

And I shoved him

And pushed him away

And hurt him.

And suddenly it was all too much. Bill began breathing heavily tuning out the voices although he couldn't hear much of anyone talking. He tried to croak for help but couldn't breathe, his body began to shake violently.

BREATHE BILL

BREATHE

He couldn't though, he couldn't breathe. Or think, or see or stay still. So he laid there, bleeding helplessly shaking and feeling himself fade away.

“Thank you” Bill stopped all of a sudden. He hears Teds stable whispers, Bill bites his lips and regains posture.

5 things you can see

So he does. He goes through everything his father, his mother, and Ted had taught him. Finally feeling himself move he carefully stood up accidently rustling some leaves but wasted no time rushing away from the scene. He called his father frantically and begged to come home. His father reassured him he would arrive soon and so he did. And Bill went home, alone.

~~~

“Something Rotten, Falsettos and Starship!” Chad announces happily to his husband. Henry shakes his head not looking up from his newspaper. Chad twirled around the kitchen humming the opening song to Something Rotten. “Oh, I think my choices are wonderful! Plus its a perfect balance!” Henry nodded still not really paying attention.

“And the school is letting you do these? I mean Falsettos? Something Rotten? Starship?” Henry insisted, pretty bold choices.

“Yes because I pulled a lot of cards” Chad smiled sweetly, Henry let out a small chuckle at his husband's gleeful smile. “Ooo! I hope Ted auditions, he would be amazing!” Henry's face falls suddenly at the mention of the young boy's names. Chad notices and leans in “What's wrong love?”

“Ted” Henry says flatly “He should be home by now, do you think he got lost?” Henry felt an increasing panic rise in him. They had offered their home to Ted as they had an extra room and Ted felt as though he was imposing on Bills house. Chad took his husbands face softly.

“You worry too much, he will be here. Plus most times we can just drive him here after school” Chad reassures, this still doesn't calm Henry. Especially after the phone call, he had received this afternoon from a very angry man. Soon his worries would wash away as a soft knock echoed through the apartment. Chad jumped up giving Henry a look and made his way to the front door. Henry followed and watched as a very disheveled Ted stood on the other side.

“Sorry, I'm late… there was an incident” Ted says softly not meeting their eyes. Henry rushes forward examining the boy. His shirt showed dry wet marks and was sitting awkwardly on him. His hair stuck out from everywhere and his face was red and puffy. There were traces of a red substance on the edge of his shirt.

“Ted! What happened? Are you alright?” Henry asked as Chad ushered the boy inside sitting him down at one of the dining chairs. He kneeled in front of him.

“M’fine” He says shyly “Just Billy being Billy” Henry and Chad share a sad look, Chad ruffles Ted's hair messing it up even more.

“You ok though?” He asks, the boy nods embarrassed “Why don't you go wash up? We were able to pick up some of your clothes from your house so you don't have to keep wearing the same two outfits!” Ted lit up at this and nodded thanking them once more for letting him stay there. They watched him go, and Chad turned to Henry, his eyes darkened. “I do not like that boy” Chad muttered angrily, now it was Henry's turn to calm him down.

“Love there is nothing we can do” Henry says “You heard the principal, we are to stay out of it and focus on Ted” Henry reminds him, feeling his own anger about the situation.

“How can we take care of him if that boy is still bullying him!” Chad exclaims “Because that's what he's doing, bullying!” Henry nods understandably. He leads his husband over to the couch and lets him lean into him.

“I know love” Henry strokes Chads hair “But right now we need to focus on Ted. We need to find his mother, figure out what to do about his father and find him some kind of stability in his life” Chad lifts his head to look at Henry “Ok?”

“Ok” Chad responds

~~~

“I hope Teds ok, and Bill and Tommy and-”

“I know, me too” Emma cuts off a very distressed Paul. “But we can't do much now” She whispers as they sit in the library working on their project. Paul reads through a passage and scribbles down some notes, he sighs annoyed and drops his pencil.

“I can't focus” He whispers back “I'm worried, god, how did this all happen? Why can't we just have like… boring normal lives?” Paul bites his lip. Emma can't help but stare, his scrunched nose, he's just really cute. Emma smiles to herself at these thoughts.

“Look we should work another time, cause clearly you're not feeling ok” Emma offers. Paul shakes his head and gets back to his notes. “You're so annoyingly stubborn” She mumbles getting back to her notes. They sit for a while in the almost empty library until a pair of giggles waft through. The lookup curiously at each other before looking around. Emma gets up slowly followed by a confused Paul. She examines the shelves of books. They were sta in the middle of the library surrounded by a few tables. The shelves were arranged in a circle formation with spaces that lead you to different areas of the library. Emma listened and heard two voices mumbling. She followed it to the left shelves and went through the middle one. She continued walking listening as the voices grew louder. She reached a corner and felt her sense of mystery drop.

“Emma!” Charlotte shrieked pulling away from another figure. Emma recognized it as Sam, she studied the scene. They sat in the corner on a bean bag, Charlotte held a binder in her hand, and Sam had his arms wrapped around Charlotte's waist, and his head was nuzzled into her neck. She swatted him away and stood up flushing a deep crimson. “I-I… I can explain” She sputtered. Emma shook her head with an angry smile.

“No need” She spat, she turns shoving Paul out of her way ignoring the wailing calls from Charlotte. She made her way back to the table followed by a concerned Paul. She silently packed up her things and left, feeling nothing but betrayal and absolutely done with this day.

[cuilective]

RULES: REPOST, DON’T REBLOG. JUST PICK A MUSE OF YOURS AND FILL IT OUT.

—

—

MUSE: Lester Merriton

BASICS

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL/SHORT/AVERAGE?  

Tall, definitely. Used to be even an inch or so taller before the explosion.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT?  

For the most part. He can reach things others can’t, but he’s doomed to be the big spoon forever unless he finds someone who’ll settle for backpacking. Could be worse.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE?  

When he’s staying on top of self care, I’d say it’s... pretty average? nothing super soft but at least it’s clean. probably smells like some generic Manly Scented Shampoo For Men like woodsmoke or gym shower jungle juice or whatever the heck it is guys have to wear instead of fruity floral goodness. or just the OG old spice, that seems pretty lester to me.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR/WITH THEIR GROOMING?  

The least amount of time possible while still getting everything done. He’d rather be doing just about anything else than like... brushing his hair. soaking in the tub. hell even a nap would be more entertaining.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE?  

He does, which is probably one of the only things to really motivate him to take care of himself.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT WHAT OTHERS THINK ABOUT THEM?  

More than he lets on, definitely more than he’ll ever admit. He bottles it up pretty well but if he feels like he made a bad impression on someone it might bother him for a while.

PREFERENCES

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?  

Indoooors

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE?  

Rain. Nothing better than working by a window listening to the rain pitter patter against the glass. It’s the best white noise to fill the silence so he can focus on something other than his grumpy brain noises.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH?  

Neither, but if he had to choose it’d be forest. You know how hard it is to get sand out of all the nooks n crannies of prosthetics? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS?  

Metals for sure, precious or not. Way more practical uses and still looks good.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES?  

Ehhhhh, maybe flowers? At least it’d be less overwhelming than straight up perfume.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE?  

He’d say both, but honestly??? Appearance.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD?  

Alone, definitely. Or at least being alone with someone else or a very small group of friends, even if they’re just sitting around in the same room but not actually interacting.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY?  

Ornarchy. Anorder. Uh. Uhhhhh. Order?

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES?  

Well he dishes out both fairly often. It’s hard to tell when he’s being brutally honest because he genuinely cares or just feels like being a jerk.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC?  

Science all the way every day

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT?  

He’d say he prefers peace but ultimately conflict is what he’s most familiar with. It’s practically his comfort zone.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY?  

Night, for sure.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN?  

Dawn, sort of. Nothing like staying up so late you can watch the sunrise... and then go right to sleep.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD?  

Warmth. Warm drinks, warm clothes, warm touches. Even just all the computers buzzing away in his lab working like little space heaters to toast up the whole room a few degrees.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS?  

He’d sure like to have a few close friends but they keep like, exploding or falling into other dimensions and he just cant take that kind of abandonment anymore.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME?  

Playing a game. He reads enough for work, it’s nice to do something less mentally taxing. Fun colors and shapes, puzzles, whatever. Really likes word cross apps on his phone.

QUESTIONNAIRE

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?  

Entirely too sarcastic at all times, even with people he doesn’t actively dislike. It’s a roast or be roasted world out there.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?

Bit complicated. He wasn’t close to his parents. He became more distant from his younger brother for some time before the explosion that killed him. His relationship with Freddy was always rather complicated, but when he and his wife and daughter vanished it affected Lester more than he realized. He began to more actively isolate himself, more sarcastic, and in general puts no effort into friendships because he feels it’ll just be a wasted investment anyway. The hardest thing for him though was after he recovered from the explosion and could live on his own again and finding out Frederick Senior McJerklord essentially abandoned Lester’s nephew in the middle of who-knows-where with a grumpy giraffe because he didn’t want to raise a Merriton since they’re all competition anyway.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?  

He’s not much of a hugger himself but he can probably remember when and where he ever experienced each hug he’s ever had and treasures each one. Bruh just wants 2 be held, man.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?  

Kill the mood? Sure. Kill a living being? It’d be pretty tough. There is one instance he might be able to kill and get through it without having a mental and moral breakdown, but he tries not to think about it too much or he might start making plans.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?  

It’s eerily quiet. Like you know how snow absorbs all the sound in the universe??? It’s kind of like that except the silence isn’t peaceful at all it’s just like sheer unease. Like the silence of a morgue. He avoids eye contact bc honestly if people can see his eyes at times like that they’d start asking concerned questions that he just can’t answer without risking falling apart. he’s a silent, angry crier the rare occasions he does cry. could be quietly going about his business and keeps accidentally breaking things bc he is just full of smadness.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?

he can’t even trust himself with his life, let alone someone else.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?  

Still sarcastic, but in a much sappier way. If anything the roasting will just get worse, but in return you get glimpses of those itty bitty smiles and airy chuckles. He gets marginally more touchy-feely; a hand on the shoulder, sitting a smidge closer than usual, just wanting to be closer in general. may or may not bluntly admit to wanting more spicy contact when least expected. like ur just tryna go grocery shopping and yall be lookin at the tomatoes n he just stares at a tomato in his hand w a straight face like ‘once we’re back home we should smash’ all nonchalantly except not in those words exactly because i dont want to get any more gross bots following me

—

tagged by: @streetsteel​

tagging: hmmmmmmm.... whoever wants to and hasnt yet?? idk man go bonkers

[purplesurveys]

525

This survey is literally called Adult Survey so let’s see just how bad I am at being one 👉😎👉 What grocery store do you shop at the most? My mom does most of her shopping in SM supermarkets, but sometimes she’ll stick with Freshto.

Which stovetop burner do you use the most? Uhhhh I haven’t used the stove in a while, especially since it almost exploded in my face the last time I used it – but I used to go with the rightmost one since it was the largest, and it fit the pan that I typically used. Do you use a dishwasher or wash dishes by hand? We wash dishes by hand here. I can’t name you anyone who actually bought themselves a dishwasher here in the Philippines.

What color is your favorite laundry basket? Idk, I don’t have a favorite. What color was your first car? White. If we’re talking about the car bought by my parents.

What was your first job? Never had one yet. What is the best job you've had? What is the best pharmacy near you? Not sure about the best, but we have one right across the village that we head to. Do you use public transportation? NO. Public transport in this country is an embarrassment, a joke, and one of the reasons I’m hell-bent on moving out entirely. If you ever needed a country that has trains regularly break down every week (forcing its passengers to walk to their destinations even when they’re nowhere near), trains with poor air conditioning, smoke-belching jeepneys, buses driven by murderous drivers, and public transportation that all in all will force you to wake up 3 hours earlier and STILL end up late to school/work, the Philippines is for you. Which bank do you use? I don’t have any sort of card yet.

Do you have a credit card? ^ What is your favorite fast food restaurant? As questionable as every branch of theirs smells like, I have to give the crown to KFC. What do you want to name your kids? Olivia and Mia are pretty much locked in for me. Still clueless about boy names. How many tattoos do you have? No tattoos. What year did you graduate high school? 2016. Three years, but it’s felt like forever ago. What chore do you hate the most? I haaaaate washing dishes. Thankfully Gabie loves doing it, so it’ll be easier for me when we move in together haha. What is your favorite shampoo to use? Dove is fine. How do you remove stains from clothes? Water and tissue usually do the trick. Do you carry pepper spray? I don’t. I really should. What highway do you drive on the most? Marcos Highway. I live on it and have to go through it if I want to go anywhere. Do you like driving? It’s convenient and I like being out on my own time without the pressure of tiring out/going overtime on a personal driver; but being stuck in traffic for hours all by yourself can be very draining. What is your favorite radio station? I listen to 93.1 in the morning for my favorite radio program, but for the rest of the day I’d switch between that, 99.5, 94.7, and 87.5. What do you use for an alarm clock (phone, stereo, actual clock, etc.)? I use my phone and I have like 5 alarms set everyday because I’m pretty difficult to wake up. Which department store do you shop at the most? I don’t shop for stuff a lot; most of my money goes to food haha. Which dollar store is your favorite? Do you shop at the dollar store often? We don’t even use dollars, sis. What is your favorite gas station? I don’t have a favorite but I like going to Petron just out of habit. Do you burn candles often? I never burn candles. How do you relax? It depends on what I feel like doing. I can choose to watch YouTube videos, watch Friends, take a survey, take a nap, or binge-eat. What's your favorite app on your phone? Twitter or Reddit. What do you cook the most? I can’t :( When was the last time you relaxed in a hot bath? Over a year ago? I dunno, I don’t get to do this a lot. Do you take showers or baths normally? Showers. What is your favorite candle scent? Whatever smells like food, like a bakery or cinnamon. Floral scents make me gag. How much does it cost for you to laundry (if you use a slot machine)? Do you make your bed every day? Yes. It feels so much nicer coming home to a fixed bed. Do you have any pets? Yes, I have a dog. Do you have kids? Nope. Are you married? Also nope. Do you save receipts? Receipts from important dates, sure. I like keeping the little details. Do you use re-usable bags at the grocery store? I think my mom does. What color is your carpet? We have a big brown carpet in the living room, but other than that the rest of the house isn’t carpeted. Have you ever burnt yourself with the glue gun? No and I am too scared to know what it feels like so I’ve never held a glue gun before. We actually had to use one fairly recently to make props for an org event, but I told my orgmates I wasn’t gonna help in that department and I could work anywhere else I was needed instead. Do you write checks? Nah. I’ve had my parents ask me to pay with one, though. Ever had a garage sale? My parents never held one, but we’ve been to several. What have been some of your best garage sale finds? I don’t think we bought anything from them. What time do you wake up in the morning? Depends if I have something to do that day. Are you a morning person? God no. I hate having to report to school early and I usually need an hour or two to adjust to the surroundings. I have a 7 AM class on Wednesdays and Fridays and my brain just refuses to cooperate every time.

Are you more of a morning person now than you used to be? Haha I don’t think I ever was a morning person. Do you like to read? I used to. Nowadays I’ll read something every now and then, but it’s not my favorite hobby anymore. What was the first election you voted in? 2016. Who is on speed dial in your phone? We don’t have speed dial. Do you play games on your phone? Sure. I used to have no games at all cos I thought it was a waste of storage, but now I have like 10 games on my phone because of all the advertisements I see hahaha. What phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8. What was your first phone? I keep forgetting the exact model, but it was the iconic Nokia one that had a green screen and early versions of Snake and Space Impact. What kind of computer do you have? I was too young to ever pay attention to the brand and the model, tbh. I did reach the era where connecting to the internet meant weird sounds and not being able to use the landline, so there’s that. Wall calendar or desk calendar? Phone and laptop calendar. If you read a daily devotional, which one are you using currently? I don’t. What is your favorite book? I’ve read a lot of books but I don’t think I’ve encountered my favorite yet. What is the strangest food you've had? I absolutely love Indian food and would do anything for it, but gulab jamun was pretty horrid. The taste confused me so much and the wet, sticky texture didn’t help either. What do you do when the power goes out? Curse out Meralco on social media, especially if it was an unannounced outage. Then I’d stay with my dog so that he doesn’t get scared. Does your home have a basement? Nope. How often do you clean? My mom likes to be in charge of general cleaning, and she does so once in a few months. How often do you go grocery shopping? An hour or so seems like it. Ever bought a lottery ticket? Nah, I don’t want to grow obsessed with it hahaha. Do you gamble? Nope. What does your purse look like? My *wallet has several essential cards/IDs, my savings, and old receipts and papers I never got around to throwing away. Do you ever sleep on the floor? No. I slept on the floor a lot as a kid and I hated it, so I stay away from the possibility completely now. Which room do you stay in the most? Mine? What is your bedtime? I don’t have one, but I always strive to be in bed by 10 or 11 PM. Ever worked two jobs or more at once? This hasn’t happened to me. Do you live in an apartment, condo, house, or dorm? I live in my parents’ house. What does your dream house look like? Modern, minimalist, square-shaped, lots of glass, white. Describe your dream wedding. I haven’t figured out what location I want, but I wouldn’t want it to be in church, at the beach, or in a barn. I want an all-white (or at least almost all-white) motif, a laaaaarge guest list (I’ll only get one wedding so I’m making it huge lmao), free flowing drinks, cupcake racks, and I wouldn’t want it to be too formal nor too casual. That’s like 6 elements out of the hundred I’ll probably end up thinking of, but it’s a start. How often do you go on vacation? As often as my dad is home, so like a few times every 4 months. What is your favorite type of weather? Rainy/stormy, dark, and bleak. What do you do when you have a sore throat? Hate myself. And continue eating whatever because a sore throat isn’t gonna stop me from eating delicious food. How often do you go see a doctor? When it’s required lol Do you have acid reflux? I don’t. Do you snore? I snore only when I’m ridiculously exhausted after a day. And when I do it’s only like once then I stop. Are you on birth control? I’m not. I don’t need it currently. What kind of toothpaste do you use? A normal one? Idk, I just use Colgate. Do you wear glasses or contacts? I have glasses. How often do you wear make-up? Only when I go to parties, which isn’t often. Do you put on make-up in the bathroom or the bedroom? Gabie usually puts makeup on me in her room. Do you have a swimming pool? Nope. What is the first site you go to when you turn on your computer? It differs, based on what I feel like doing/have to do. Typically, though, it’s Twitter. Which email service do you use? Gmail. How often do you check your email? Everyday, because I guess I’M AN ADULT NOW AND I HAVE TO SUCK IT UP. How old were you when you got your first phone? I was 7. I’m pretty sure my parents didn’t want to get it for me, but I was 7 in a private school, everyone was getting their own phones (and this was when phones was starting to get big among kids), and I was feeling pressured to get my own. What was your favorite boy band back in the 90's? I wasn’t conscious for most of the 90s. Did you own a Britney Spears album? Nope.

[frozs]

I was laughing so hard when I seen this framed picture XD anyway, here's and idea that I want to use for my drawings but you can also implement it in your Australian AU - Sasori being a huge fan of gossips, like he's starting his day from reading all hot news about celebrities, sitting in Starbucks (ordering only water) and browsing gossipy websites or reading those awful cheap magazines. hiring private detective to snap some embarassing photos of someone and blackmail him? done that.

Sasori blackmails Sai because Sai gets Inojin to create artwork instead of him for the shop

Sasori, as usual, was the first to go into the coffee shop after a long night of removing delicate organs from a recently deceased ugly looking cat. He looked distastefully at the art on the walls - splashes of colour pen and ink dragons on hand made papyrus.

“What do you think?”

Snapping out of his gaze, Sasori’s eyes met Sai, who was the barista of Yamanaka Flowers. He got out the glass of water which Sasori only ever ordered (Ever since Sai used cow’s milk instead of almond milk in his Ristretto, Sasori refrained from wishing to turn Sai into a puppet and ordered water from then on), out waiting for him to take.

“It must have taken you thirty seconds to do all of these,” said Sasori dully. “True art is the work of someone who takes a long time to create their art.”

Sai’s stupid smile came back, which pretty much meant he had no idea what the fuck Sasori just said. Sasori looked at the price tags - something him and Deidara always did when they went to gallery shows - and he was asking for $500 a piece. He sat down in the corner surrounded by lilies and daffodils, and got out the newest edition of New Idea, which Ino had put down before she rushed off to work.

Sasori had a very strange way of reading. He didn’t seem to read left to right and take in pictures like other people did. He simply just stared at the page, drinking it all in from different angles. His phone pinged, and his eyes flickered to the screen. 5 Facebook messages from Deidara, and 2 from Hidan.

Oi stupid fucking housemate burnt the unit down

Cause hes a cunt

Sasori fuck

I didnt mean to sorry

The kiln exploded and i got my fireworks out in time but the backyards gone and most of the house yeah

Your possessions are still like kinda there idk

COME HOME SASORI PLEASE WE NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU YEAH

“Do you want another water, sir?”

Sai and Ino’s young son, Inojin, who must have only be in Kindergarten, had taken a large bottle of freezing water over to Sasori’s little corner. Inojin was dressed in little purple overalls, and had coloured paint stained to his fingers.

Sasori took the water without saying thank you, and refilled his water right up to the top, where it spilled over slightly. Inojin couldn’t quite figure out why Sasori had done that, but it was because Sasori was fucking weird. At the back of the magazine was a Real Life! Section page. Each person to write a real story about something that has happened to them. These included segments such as I fucked Santa Claus! And My Life as an Otherkin: I’m actually a dingo.

However in the small section of this page, someone had circled something in sharpie, and he looked carefully. It was an image of Sai and Ino in the magazine, with the title My artworks makes more money than my actual job!

In some art careers that is true, Sasori thought, and decided to actually read the article instead of drinking in the information on the page. Inojin appeared with a napkin which Sai gave him to clean up the water mess on the coffee table. In the article were the same paintings that were on the wall, and most of them had red dots on them, marking them as sold.

But Sasori could feel something was wrong. Impatience bubbled up in him, as something was not quite right. He had been coming to Yamanaka Flowers for years, as it was on the way home from the art studios. Sai only ever drew in black indian ink, using calligraphy brushes to create Japanese inspired creations of tigers and dragons which were influenced by his heritage. Sasori looked down at Inojin’s little fingers, paint stained with bright children’s paints such as lemon yellow and apple green. He finished mopping up and he smiled at Sasori.

“Please enjoy your water! I will get you more.”

“Wait,” said Sasori, eyes flicking to Sai who had just finished making several coffees to takeaway for tired looking businessmen. Sai smiled.

“Do you like our little article?”

“No,” said Sasori, looking away to pour even more water in the glass, and this time it overflowed to the point where the water started to drip on the wooden floor. “But I’ll be telling everyone what nice work Inojin has put on display. Good luck trying to wriggle out of that. Now excuse me, I have to go and get my possessions out of my place, which is currently on fire.”

And that was the last time Sasori ever went to Yamanaka Flowers, so he biked off, leaving Sai and Inojin totally bewildered with his actions.

[sidhewrites]

Chapter 3-ish. Previous Installment found here, summary page found here. Approx. 2400 words. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

The dance hall was grand once upon a time, with gold gilding on every column and candlelight reflecting off the marble floors. The windows were glass, from ceiling to floor, looking out over what had once been a statue garden a pair of lovers could get lost in.

They now looked over a factory. Smoke had long since tarnished the outside walls, and nearly blackened the panes, providing dim lighting even at midday. The soot called out to Zorya as she walked in, waiting to be put to use. But there was no use for it here, with tallow candles burning low, and no demand for cleaning the place up. So the soot stayed where it sat, and Zorya scuffed her heels as she walked, the left more so than the right.

Something whispered in the shadows. It was too quiet to find just yet, but it was there. Zorya would sniff it out soon enough.

This wasn’t a legal venue. As far as anyone knew, this place was empty, left for dust while the officials tried to decide what to do with it. Eventually, it just fell into disrepair, was slowly repaired, and became a small haven for people who wanted to dance in a decidedly western fashion.

Zorya told herself it was against the ideals of the party -- frivolities and dancing for the sake of dancing didn’t contribute to the state at all. But it looked … well, it looked fun. She wasn’t above hoping for a little bit of fun, even if that hope was buried under layers and layers of denial.

People trickled in slowly, chatting, one of them carrying a bulky travelbag hiding a portable gramophone and various cylinders smuggled in from the west. Elegant women and well-dressed men partnered up, and slowly the music began to play a jazz number from Paris. Some of the older folks still knew French, and Zorya had been given a few lessons herself as a child, but she stayed in the shadows all the same. Her feet were too big, her limbs too clumsy, and, anyway, she didn’t know the steps. Best that she just watched for now.

People came and went with ease. The guard at the door asked for the password from those she didn’t recognise, and it seemed lighter here than anywhere else in Moscow. As if they weren’t all gaunt and thin, overworked and underfed.

Life was easy for them, for just a few hours. Life was free.

Zorya aimed to keep it that way -- or, at least, to keep them alive. She wasn’t about to let anyone here get killed by an overactive piece of ichor that had attached itself to a skull. It was a large Wyrdbeast, whatever it was, and she’d been tracking it for weeks to this dance hall. It had been growing slowly, surely, and she had a feeling it would finally ooze out of whatever crack in the wall it’d been hiding in, just in time for her to dispel it.

They were re-learning the Charleston tonight. The simple quickstep was easy enough to pick up on, but the club had gained enough new members recently that it bore being taught anew. Zorya watched, half smiling despite herself, fiddling with the gentleman’s ring on her finger, while Noski chased shadows and spiders out of the way. Time passed slow and easy enough. An American song played over the gramophone. Zorya barely even looked to the door when it opened.

And then she gaped openly when she saw who it was.

A gentleman in a fine, fitted suit and top hat. Polished leather shoes, golden cufflinks -- and a long, long shock of the reddest hair she had ever seen.

What was he doing here?

She pulled closer to the shadows, half convinced he had seen her already, even though he looked about with an easy grin without seeming to take much of anything in at all.

[idk]

He approached her slowly, fine heels clacking on the floorboards. Zorya bristled the closer he came, like a cornered animal unable to attack. Half expecting him to turn away at the last minute and speak to another young woman instead.

But he never looked away, simply stopped before her and looked down with that lazy smile of his. “Hello, mademoiselle,” he crooned.

Zorya pressed her lips to a thin line, bit back every curse that threatened to spill forth.

His eyes flicked down to her hands clenched into fists, and raised a brow, his smile growing wider. “You kept my ring. I’m touched.”

She stuffed her hands into her skirt pockets. “I didn’t have time to pawn it.”

“Naturally. Would you care to dance?”

“I only know slow steps.”

He lifted a gloved hand and snapped. The song changed instantly into something slower, something even Zorya could drag her feet through. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the confused murmur rising up in the room. The gramophone operator stood at the machine baffled, and a few of the younger dancers complained. Zorya didn’t look away from the man. “Witch,” she accused.

“You are indeed.” He winked.

Zorya gaped. How had he -- when?

The man seemed to need no translation, able to read her thoughts clear enough on her face. “The station master was all too proud to tell me how he kept it so clean. Told me about a dutiful Lesser Witch who couldn’t keep her cat in line.” He shot a glance over to Noski, currently batting at a now-dead spider without a care in the world, then looked back to Zorya. “You’re not wearing your pin.”

She still struggled for words. That could have been a threat, for all she knew. All witches were to wear their brooches whenever they went outside, lesser and greater. The greatcoat could be saved for formal occasions, but the brooch was necessary. And if he reported her…

She still had to catch the wyrdbeast. Still had a job to do.

So she sighed, and looked away. “Let me guess, you’ll report me if I don’t dance with you?”

“Certainly not.” He seemed genuinely taken aback. “I’d never be so cruel to someone who’s looking for a bit of fun.”

“I’m not here for fun.”

“No? Then what are you here for?”

She said nothing. Couldn't say anything. Zorya wasn’t used to talking to people enough to know how to lie on instinct.

“Well?” the man said.

 She ought to send a flurry of ash up his nose and send him, sneezing, on his way.

His charming smile grew all the more pleased as he misread or otherwise ignored her unwelcoming glare. “Ah, of course. How could I be so rude?” He removed his top hat with a flourish and bowed. “Isidore Clare, at your service, mademoiselle.” Even his name sounded like it was dripping with gold.

“How nice.”

He continued to smile.

[somehow he convinces her]

Clare guided her to the middle of the floor. Every movement he made, every gesture was elegant. He held her with gentle hands, and Zorya was all too aware of how the soot immediately ruined his fine white gloves. Good, whispered a spiteful part of her. He deserves it.

The music picked up from the start again, the same song as before, and he guided her into a slow and simple waltz. 

Zorya didn’t stop glaring for a moment, shoulders stiff and jaw set. More than half of it, she was ashamed to admit, was from simple discomfort. It wasn’t often that she had to be around people, much less seen by them. 

“You’re rather light on your feet,” Clare said.

She stepped on his foot. It was an accident, but a well timed one. Zorya chose not to apologize. 

“Might I ask your name?”

“You can ask.”

He laughed openly, and didn’t press.

Zorya didn’t like the silence, didn’t like the way he looked at her. It wasn’t that he had on any certain expression, and he didn’t seem to be measuring her up. He was just looking at her. He was aware that she existed, and that was enough to set her on edge. “What are you doing here, anyway? Rich French boys don’t come to Russia to flirt in this century.”

“Business, I’m afraid. I’ve important work to see to while I’m here.”

“And what work does a French witch have in Moscow?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to hear about it in the news, Miss. You’re not the only one here who wants a bit of anonymity.”

Zorya scoffed. “You already told me your name.”

“And if you don’t recognise it, then all the better.”

“You’re not one of those movie stars, are you?”

He laughed again. “Nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid. Most people don’t even recognise me on the street.”

“So why should I?”

Clare only smiled. 

Zorya decided, once again, that she hated him. And now she had a name to put to his irritating, overconfident face.

But before she could say more, the chittering came back to her. A small, animalistic sound scraping against her ear, punctuated with inhuman whispers. Her anger fled as she looked away, searching the shadows for a sign of the beast.

“Is something wrong?” Clare asked, unexpectedly sounding almost worried.

The chittering continued to grow louder, to deepen and groan. Zorya looked deeper into the shadows, searching hard for any movement before the beast revealed itself. “Yeah. I think...” Zorya pulled herself away, taking uncertain steps towards the mirrored wall across from her, trying to ignore the sight of her reflection.

Clare hadn’t moved behind her. “I don’t understand. Do you see something?” 

No-one seemed to be paying her any mind. No-one should. Only five people in Moscow could hear the Wyrdbeasts, and Zorya was glad to know there wasn’t one of them nearb.

“Get everyone out of here.” She could hear it. She could hear it coming closer. “Something’s wrong.”

“But—”

“Noski,” she hissed, ignoring whatever Clare was about to say. The cat leapt from the bag and reached her shoulder just as the wall exploded.

Dancers screamed. 

[something, and then wyrdbeast]

Zorya gestured in carful movements, adjusting her position to summon the soot and ash, forming it into long ropes that wrapped tightly around the wyrdbeast’s legs. It lashed out, swiping a paw through its bindings, but they reformed just as quickly.

It wasn’t enough to subdue the beast, but it was enough to hold it back for a little bit.

She approached it slowly, both hands out, speaking as calmly as she could. “There now, look at you. A big thing like you shouldn’t be in a place like this. Look at the mess you made.”

Noski rubbed against her leg, eyeing the beast, tail flicking in agitation. He hopped up to Zorya’s shoulders, settling in with a purr to serve as a physical anchor as much as a mental one. 

Zorya continued to shush the beast, closing the distance as it hissed and snapped its wicked jaws. “There we go,” she said. “Easy, easy.” She placed a hand on its shoulder — and leapt back as it whirled on her and roard. “Well that wasn’t very polite, was it?” 

The Wyrdbeast growled again. But now that they had made eyecontact, it started to calm. Zorya felt its pull, the anger and rot that had formed it, dragging the poor animal from what had to have been a peaceful death. 

“It hurts, I know. You don’t want to be here.” She continued to soothe it, and slowly, slowly approached again. The beast continued to bristle, to snarl, but it didn’t lash out again and she was able to release her control over the soot.

Zorya placed her hand on its skull. The wyrdbeast flinched, but didn’t pull away, and leaned into her. 

“There we go,” she said, and began the final part of her work. The bitter tang of wyrdstuff filled her mouth as she absorbed it, pulling the inky black ichor into her body. It oozed under her skin, blackening her veins, her arms, her lips and mouth.

The beast shrank before her, growing smaller and smaller until there was nothing but the skull in her hand. Zorya held onto it until she felt the last dregs of the wyrdstuff snap free, and the skull clattered to the ground, cracking in two. 

Noski purred again. 

Zorya grimaced, and groaned. “Ugh. I won’t be able to eat anything for a week.”

That’s assuming you get anything to eat at all, she imagined Noski saying, and sighed.  

A footstep sounded behind her, and Zorya whirled around, terrified. Everyone should have evacuated. Was it the person who’d summoned the beast? An official? Someone who —-

Oh.

It was Clare.

Watching her with wide eyes, gloved hands limp at his sides. Too stupid to run away properly when his life was in danger.

Irritation quickly overshadowed Zorya’s fear — only to flee as she realized he knew what she was now. An unlicensed Greater Witch, posing as Lesser, doing illegal magic in an illegal dance hall. And — worse than that...

“You’re a wyrdwitch,” he whispered.

Zorya couldn’t tell if he was in awe or simply afraid. But he disappeared into the dust in the space of a heartbeat, and she was left alone.

Noski stepped off her shoulder and into the shape of himself. “Do you think we ought to chase him down?” He sounded all too eager to do just that.

“He’s from the West. Someone would notice if he was gone.” But that didn’t mean she was sure about which path to take. Zorya had spent years hiding the wyrdmagic, posing as a lesser witch and keeping her head down. It had nearly gotten her killed, the last time someone found her out, and she wasn’t about to let it happen again. But chasing after him seemed just as dangerous. If nothing else, asking about a rich Frenchman would make her seem disloyal, uncommunistic. And, more than that, “He could be anywhere in the city by now. It’s no use.”

“You sure do like talking yourself out of things, don’t you, Zorenka?” Noski rubbed his skull against her cheek, and stepped back into the shape of a cat.