#it’s easier to draw when i have prompts given to me instead of coming up with them on my own rn

[gayestcowboy]

anyone wanna give me fire emblem 3 houses (or awakening) characters to doodle,,,, bonus points if there’s a prompt involved. i need to draw my silly guys

[nokomiss]

For prompts, JaySteph, "How long has that been bleeding?"

“Hey, can you come help me with something?” 

A brief silence, then Jason’s voice came through the comm. “What is it?”

“I’m tracking this dealer, and he went to a carnival,” Steph said. “Pretty sure he’s selling to kids, but I thought I’d be less conspicuous with someone else than creeping along after him alone.”

And everyone else was busy, she didn’t say out loud. Well. She was pretty sure Cass was trying to get her to make a move and was only claiming to be busy with her own case, given how she’d slyly suggested that Jason might be free.

Steph hadn’t even gotten around to bringing up her sorta-crush on him yet, and Cass was already coming in clutch. She wondered if Cass had noticed something in Jason’s body language, and that’s what inspired the suggestion. She thought about asking, but honestly that would just make her self-conscious.

“Sure,” Jason replied. Steph tried not to read into a one-word reply, and just let him know the when and the where.

An hour later, she and Jason were in street clothes, walking side-by-side past food vendors and games.  Her mark was ahead – twenty-something, looking sleazy as he tried to chat up some girls who were clearly too young for him. Steph tried not to think about back when she’d been one of those girls, and instead decided to take this guy down before any of them made the mistakes she had.

“Thanks for coming,” Steph said. “It’s not exactly the most exciting call for backup ever, but I thought it would be way easier to just walk around eating fried Oreos than skulking around the shadows, ya know?”

“Definitely not a problem,” Jason replied. “Most of my cases were stalled out anyway, and I was just going to patrol. This is a much better way to spend the evening.”

Steph was sure that her cheeks were red, and she tried not to read into the way Jason’s voice had dropped a little on that last statement.  She compensated by offering him one of her deep fried Oreos.

He made an appreciative hum as he took a bite. Steph showed remarkable self-restraint by not making an appreciative hum of her own at the sound. She didn’t even stare. She was probably going to be nominated for sainthood at any moment. 

The dealer chose that moment to slip between two food vendors in a very sketchy way, and Steph shoved her last deep fried Oreo into her mouth as they exchanged a glance, both knowing they were going to follow him.

A tiny part of Steph’s brain brought up contingency plans if they were caught following him before it was time for a takedown, and almost all of them involved shoving her tongue into Jason’s mouth. A few of them featured doing something to draw the dealer’s attention so that she would have an excuse to explore Jason’s mouth. 

Tonight was definitely an exercise in restraint.

Jason rested his hand lightly on her wrist as they crept along. Steph tried not to over-analyze – she was sure that at some point she had done the same to someone else in a completely casual and platonic way, even though she was coming up blank at the moment. Instead she kept her eyes on the prize, who was looking around furtively and just in general being such a cliche that Steph was almost embarrassed that she’d done actual detective work to catch the guy. 

They were tucked in between two vendors – hot dogs and funnel cakes – watching the dealer. He was standing next to a chain-link fence that marked the boundary of the lot that the carnival was set up on, overlooking the docks.  

The dealer kept looking at his phone and then around, and it wasn’t hard to deduce that he was waiting on someone. Steph hoped it was his source; she’d been trying to get evidence that he was dealing for one of the Maroni offshoots.  

Jason whispered, “Do we wait on him to do something stupid, or just go and jack his phone?”

Mugging the dealer hadn’t been one of Steph’s contingencies but she did appreciate the irony. “Wait, he looks like he’s prone to stupidity. But I gott ask, do you mug your targets regularly?”

“I mean, how does one define regularly?” She didn’t even have to glance up at Jason to know he was grinning, but she did anyway. 

She nudged him with her shoulder and said, “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh?” he said, like she was talking about a date instead of just some run of the mill vigilantism.

“You heard me.”

Cass had been totally right to encourage Steph to invite Jason; this was better than she had hoped for. 

She didn’t get a chance to flirt some more, though, because the dumb dealer she was trying to take down finally did something interesting.

And by interesting, that meant that the guy decided to drop on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

“What the hell?” Steph dashed toward the guy, who was still breathing but was otherwise totally unconscious. His phone was still held loosely in one hand, unlocked, and she took medical duties while Jason plucked the phone out and began to scroll through it.

The dealer looked fine, barring the fact that he was inexplicably unconscious. Pulse average, heartrate steady, everything appeared normal. 

“Well, I think our job here is done,” Jason said casually, tucking the phone back unto the dealer’s hand. “Got all the info about his next big meet-up saved, and I'm pretty sure there’s enough evidence there to get him convicted.”

“But why is he unconscious?” Steph said, nudging him with her foot. He didn’t react. 

Jason finished patting down the dealer, and held up what he found in one of his pockets. “I think he roofied himself.”

Steph remembered how young the girls he’d been talking to were, and felt not the slightest bit of pity for the man. “Let’s truss him up and make the call.”

It felt a little weird to be doing that in civvies, but it made blending back into the carnival afterwards that much easier.  They opted to watch the cops do their thing from the ferris wheel, which was more fun than a plain old rooftop. Steph had made a stop by the funnel cake stand on the way to the ferris wheel, and she happily licked powdered sugar off her fingers as she watched flashing lights from above.

Beside her, Jason leaned back, his legs leisurely sprawled into the footrest, thigh tucked up against hers.

It was easily the best end to a night of vigilantism in Steph’s recent memory. 

She nudged Jason in the side with her elbow, ready to let him know just that, but the pained sound he made was not proportionate to the force she exerted. Steph was proud to say she’d made most of the other Bats let out similar “Oof”s by this point in her career, but never with just a nudge.

She leveled him with a glare. “Jason.”

“It’s nothing,” he said in that casual voice that all of them had perfected. Unfortunately for him, he was trapped on the ferris wheel with her, and couldn’t escape without making an even bigger scene. She nudged open his jacket and, yep, his dark t-shirt had a suspiciously wet spot on it.

“How long has that been bleeding?” she sighed, because why were all the boys she knew like this.

“I might have been minorly stabbed right before you called me for help,” Jason admitted.

“This was absolutely not a dire situation,” Steph said. “You could have said, ‘Maybe next time, I’m currently bleeding from a stab wound.’ Did you even clean it first, or did you just slap a bandaid on it?”

“I smeared some ointment on the bandaid!” Jason said, like that made it any better.

“As soon as we’re off this ride and I finish my funnel cake, we are dealing with that,” Steph said. She resolutely took another bite of her treat to prove the point.

“It really isn’t deep,” Jason said, clearly attempting to mollify her. “I wouldn’t have come if I thought I would pass out or something.”

“But why did you come?”

A beat of silence. Steph glanced over at him, and Jason was looking at her with a soft, fond smile. He reached out, brushed the side of her mouth. She thought for a brief, glorious second that he was going to kiss her, but then she remembered the powdered sugar. “Because I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Oh.”  Steph could feel her cheeks heating up. “I… I asked you because I wanted to hang out with you, too.”

They grinned at each other, and Steph offered up the last bit of her funnel cake to him. He took it, and when she wiped away the powdered sugar from his mouth, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip just a bit too slowly to be taken as anything but an invitation, he pressed a tiny, soft kiss to the pad of her thumb.

“Maybe after you’re patched up and no longer actively bleeding out, we can try that for real,” Steph suggested, trying to act cool, like she couldn’t hear her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

“Deal.”

[knightfuryvawannabee]

Safely navigating DIY T – acquisition and health

A lot of the safety tips in terms of navigating online will come from this video, which is actually about safely navigating reproductive procedures post the overturning of Roe v Wade, but the safety advice works especially well here. If any questions are not answered here please feel free to shoot me an ask. Google Doc for easier navigation, says all the same stuff as here.

First off if you haven't already, check the transmasc guide on the DIY HRT Wiki, this post is made with the assumption you have already read that. -      General internet safety

When searching for and purchasing DIY T (especially injections), use the TOR browser with a VPN. This will keep your internet privacy as secure as possible, and the VPN will change your IP enough to make it look like it was accessed from a different location.

I personally use Proton, it’s a free VPN with an optional paid upgrade. The free version will connect you to either the US, Netherlands, or Japan.

Proton also has its own email service. Some of the sources where you can receive DIY T from may require you to make an account. I recommend using an email through Proton for this because it is end-to-end encrypted. If the site asks for a phone number just put in a repeating order of 0 to 9. 

-      Safety when purchasing T

Some sites where you can get DIY T will only allow the purchase through use of bitcoin or other forms of cryptocurrency. I know and understand we all have our thoughts on crypto and it’s use in the modern day, but unfortunately this is just how things are when navigating this.

The least scam-possible way I have seen when purchasing bitcoin, is to go through CashApp. They have an option to purchase and sell bitcoin in the app. I personally used this when buying DIY T to stock up in the case shit hits the fan. It’s pretty direct in purchasing and selling, sending is where it may get a bit tricky.

The source for DIY T listed on the DIY HRT Wiki will send you an email once you confirm your order, and you will be prompted to send the bitcoin through either a QR code or directly to a bitcoin address. I had a bit of trouble with the QR code, so what I had to do was type in the direct address. This will not bring up the company’s name, it will just allow the option when the address is fully typed.

If you are able to use a credit/debit card, what I recommend is using cash to purchase a prepaid visa and using that to order your T or otherwise online. This will make sure the transaction is not attached to your bank account.

-      Receiving T safely

I highly recommend getting your DIY T sent to a PO Box, and not your home address. The United States Postal Service is in personal experience – really secure and discrete. And even if your package does not fit in your box, you will be given a slip to take to the counter, and they will give you your package there.

When ordering, try to order from a warehouse based in your country. This is to avoid the hassle of it going through customs. But if you must order abroad, it is still very unlikely that your order will be stopped in customs. They do not open packages to check them, instead they use an x-ray machine. If your order does get stuck in customs, it’s likely because there’s an issue with paperwork, and not the order itself.

-      Administering T safely

When performing a T injection, make sure your supplies are sterile. Not just clean, sterile. Inspect the packaging of your syringes, needles, etc. If there is a tear or hole, do not use it.

For your T vials, yes, it is okay to draw from them multiple times. You can sterilize the vial by using isopropyl alcohol (rubbing alcohol) or an alcohol swab. You’re likely to not use the entire vial in one injection, so just keep it in a safe place, many even recommend keeping it refrigerated between doses.

Most if not all T vials will say to administer only via intramuscular, but you can still administer this subcutaneously. Even the vials I get through my doctor say For IM Use Only. It’s okay to administer it SubQ.

If you have trouble administering injections like I did for a while, I recommend this auto injector. You load the syringe into the device and press a button. The needle will go in and you just push the plunger down. This device is technically intended for insulin injections, but it works just fine for other injections.

My recommendation is to use an 18g needle to draw, and a 1/2in 25g needle to inject. This has left me with the least discomfort and uneasiness with injecting.

-      Blood work

If you’re on T, it’s recommended you get your labwork done at least every 3 months.

As someone who’s been given the run around in the medical field for reasons unrelated to my transition, I forever recommend ordering labs from Request a Test. This is something that is very common to do, I even ordered my own ANA test when I had to get other labs done for my work. Request a Test does not take insurance unless it’s through an HSA card. When ordering from RaQ, you will be prompted to select which LabCorp or QuestDirect facility you want the order sent to. I personally recommend LabCorp, especially considering the QuestDirect Testosterone test is only available for males. 

You will want to order at a minimum, a T level total test or a T level free test, and a CBC and CMP. The CBC is to help check for polycythemia, and CMP is to help check your liver function.

If you are worried about you ordering your T levels and that being found out, you can also order an at home testosterone test kit. The blood samples are collected through lancets similar to what is used by diabetic patients.

-      Acquiring T gel

Unfortunately there are not a whole lot of sources to get T gel from. But that does not mean they do not exist.

I personally have been using this brand called Androgenesis in between my injections, and it has been working really well. I take 50mg of T every two weeks, and when I got my bloodwork done recently my levels were >400, even when it’s really close to my next shot day.

You can order Androgenesis either directly from their site, or you can order it off of amazon. NOTE, that the standard formula on amazon can not be sent to a PO Box or amazon locker, because the site classifies it as a “potentially dangerous substance”. However the enhanced formula can be sent to a PO box or amazon locker and it works the exact same way.

Another site is Predator Nutrition (odd name but bear with me).

I am still waiting for my order, but I’d recommend either their EpiAndrogel or their Alpha Gel depending on which one is in stock at time of purchasing.

I also recommend keeping an eye out on Need2BuildMuscle. Their gel is currently out of stock, but from what I’ve seen it works quite similarly to AndroGel.

As of 08/02/2024 (Aug. 2nd), I did find sources for packets of 1% Androgel, which you can find here and here

Please note the brand name Androgel sources are ones I unfortunately have not been able to verify personally so please proceed at your own discretion, but the sources *are* listed on hrtcafe.net.

-      Who to tell?

No one *. If you doctor doesn’t know you’re on DIY T, do not bring it up. Don’t go talking about it all willy-nilly in the grocery store or whatnot.

*The exception is paramedics. If you are having a medical emergency, it’s probably a good idea to tell any emergency medical provider that you’re on testosterone so they can treat you properly. Remember, tell the cops nothing, tell the ambulance everything. The people on the ambulance are there to save your life, and I can guarantee they’ve dealt with circumstances far more severe than someone self-administering a specific hormonal medication. I say this as someone who’s on first aid at their place of work – and had to patch someone's hand after they were injured when I worked retail. 

tagging @mythical-moonlight

[spoodlebat]

OC-tober day 3/4: Old OC/Redesign

This one took me a few days so I'm combining the two prompts ^^ It would have been the same oc regardless anyway so it makes sense to given the tasks. I very rarely draw mechs so I hope you'll excuse the identical style to Zerrinth's post; symmetry is just so much easier when it comes to designing and basic posing.

His name is Delta, and he's an OC who I've had for a very long time.

Extremely long ramblings, timelapse and original art under the cut

I'll frontload this with the character lore and timelapse; if anyone cares for my breakdown of the oc itself, that'll be the huge ramble at the bottom ^^

D-17, going these days by Delta, is an autonomous multi-function guard unit. Originally from a world shrouded in eternal night, he and his charge Amyss fled its destruction in their ship, the ArchWing, to the planet of Soniterra. Spending their time amongst my other ocs, they now live amongst its denizens in secrecy, studying the world of light and sound through void-borne awe and wonder.

Powered by a zynal core, Delta is mechanically minded and quiet most of the time; tweaks to his functionality by Amyss have given him something of a sassy streak, however, and he's not afraid to giving a gentle ribbing to (or occasionally completely devastate) a poor friend with sharp remarks every once in a while.

Able to rearrange panels and parts of his body, as well as altering the shape and location of the hardlight parts of his form, Delta is capable of minor shapeshifting. He can also very precisicly manipulate tools and objects, capable of working on engineering projects at microscopic levels without any form of magnification or complex set ups with ease. Combining these skills means he is a very capable engineer, and has even rebuilt a living body into a partial cyborg to save someone's life. Though the world he now lives on seems primitive and inefficient by his standards, he does not usually feel arrogant about it; the mechanics of its tech are so different and new to him that he is ever interested in studying it.

A highly capable combatant, D-17's original purpose was to protect the outpost he and Amyss lived within from creatures of void. Energy beams firing from his hands and sharp blades forming from his body kept him and his charges safe, but the planet's end signalled an end to his guarding duties.

Ok, rambling time ;w;

I don't know exactly when I made this guy, but I remember writing about him all the way back in primary school, in blue pen on lined paper that I kept in my little organiser tray. That would be about age 6 or 7, making this guy almost twenty years old in real time ;-;

This OC is old enough to drink and vote in the uk, good fuckin lord

His origins start even earlier, in fact; he's an amalgamation of a couple of simple characters I made as a small child, including one of those 'running along the side of the road' guys you'd imagine on long car trips. Timelines and memories are fuzzy after 2 decades, but I'd imagine those guys are from at least a year or so before I squished all those ideas under one single name. So a solid 19 years, and a potential 20-21 easily :') wow.

Delta is actually old enough that I hadn't done much drawing by this point in my life, and so I mostly wrote things instead. Those old papers are around here somewhere, but design-wise he's never been truly nailed down; just a basic mental image and the odd description or two. The one exception is an old pixel art piece I made of him in mspaint, back on the Family Computer (remember those? ^^). I was a huge fan of pokémon fusions at the time, and I'd spend ages mixing up their sprites to see what I could do. Eventually I moved onto making things from scratch (scratch spriting, what a fun term), and that lead to the one and only time I've ever drawn this guy. It took way too long, it's very clunky, and I no longer have the original file :c Lost long ago in the move between computer to laptop I imagine. Instead, I managed to find it in a gloriously 240p youtube upload set to a Linkin Park song ^^ ah child me, you never left.

All the way from 2010, here's the best surviving version I could find. And yes, the youtube bar at the bottom is in the shot; you want to fight me over it, go find and screenshot it yourself :)

It's weirdly posed, has literally only 1 shade of grey + shading for colour, the design makes very little sense, especially for the chest and torso, and he looks a lot more evil than I intended. Despite a few efforts that went nowhere later in life though, I just never managed to redraw or redesign him in a way I was happy with. So for a long time, this grey pointy spriteart has been all I ever saw of Delta. Figured he was long, long, LONG overdue an update, and so here we are :)

Though he might look very different now and have actual anatomy knowledge informing his structure now, who'd have thunk? I tried very hard to keep intact the core design features that 13 year old me added in. It's the same fella after all! Here's a quick list of basic ones, since most of them are subtle but intentional after all:

-Glass/screen face with digital expression; I think taking the top off frees him up to look cleaner, but underneath was always a smooth screen. This way he can see above himself too ^^ -'Bunny ears'; little antenna/paddles that originate from the endless runner character, who was originally something of a rabbit -Shoulder-mounted boosters. Pretty self explanatory. -Upper arm loops; this one was actually a coincidence! I guess 2010 me and 2023 me both thought the upper arm needed something ^^ -Elbow plates; these were like. A big thing. Originally able to shapeshift into blades and other tools, I had to keep them in. It wouldn't be delta without them. They're just less... accidentally lethal now ^^ old design was POINTY -Split shins; the original shins have a pair of plates on them that form a sort of 'cuff' above the foot. I honoured this by making the feet the same way, the ankle connecting between the two sides. -Spikes! His hips were feeling a little.. empty? So I gave him some electromagnetic spikey blade things he can use as tools, as well as some hardlight claw hands.

[snekkyfics]

Snekker's Snippets #1

I swear I still write, just don't finish anything. But what's a tumblr blog if I can't post little bits of upcoming work?

(also Tumblr is throwing a fit with me about formatting so you get asterisks for now)

****

He asks Wilbur.

Well- sort of.

They’re sitting on the couch together- also sort of. Tommy’s become painfully aware of how much space he’s given by the Crafts. Wilbur keeps a decent-sized gap between them no matter what, Techno won’t do so much as sit on the bed with Tommy when they’re reading, and Phil has to be asked before he’ll even sit next to him.

It’s very… different.

Which automatically makes it annoying, because it’s different and strange and Tommy has already decided that’s bad.

But anyway,

They’re sitting on the couch together and watching a movie.

Still sort of. Wilbur’s engrossed in his phone and Tommy’s deep in thought under the guise of appreciating being let out of his room for once in his life.

(He made that joke when Wilbur propositioned the living room. Wilbur didn’t… he didn’t react much.)

Tommy’s thinking. Deep in thought. Profound thought. Much more profound than the fancy vase covered with probably expensive drawings on the mantle next to the TV.

And the question just sort of comes out.

“Wilbur?”

“Hmm?”

“I…” Tommy scrambled for a way to approach this. He may not be able to hold out asking any longer but he’s certainly going to be careful.

He catches Wilbur turning his phone off out of the corner of his eye, and he races to just spit it out before the tables turn on him.

“If you had to live in a motel, would you be fine with it?”

It’s absolutely not the best metaphor for the situation, but it does keep Wilbur from getting any more alert to the situation, and fuck it, Tommy was on short notice.

“I don’t know.” is Wilbur’s casual, unsatisfying answer. “Never been in a motel.”

He shrugs, and goes back to watching the movie.

Then he goes back to his phone when it buzzes and Tommy realizes that what his whole answer.

He tries again.

“...how about a hotel then?”

Wilbur shrugs again, “I’ve stayed in a few in my lifetime.”

Tommy waits eagerly. Tapping his fingers against the worn fabric of the couch.

Wilbur goes back to texting.

“And?” Tommy prompts further.

“And?”

“If you had to live in one, would you be fine with it?” Tommy repeats.

Wilbur sort of half-laughs.

“Why would I be living in a hotel?” he grins, eyes still not off the phone.

Tommy finds himself starting to mentally squirm.

“You just... are.” he says.

Wilbur starts scrolling through something.

“Now why would I go live in a hotel when I can stick around here for a hundred a month?” he absently asks in that light, teasing tone he likes to use with Tommy.

“Well, including chores. But it’s still better rates than what Techno’s getting.” he adds.

“This all about beating Techno?” Tommy asks, starting to grin along.

“Always, dear child. Always.” Wilbur responds.

“’m not a child.”

“Of course, dear child, of course.”

Tommy resists the urge to smack Wilbur with any one of the many conveniently-placed throw pillows on the couch with them, and instead goes back for the answer he needs to know.

“But would you be fine with it?” he asks again.

“Fine with what?”

“The hotel.”

“What hotel?”

The urge to throw something at that bespectacled face grows ever stronger.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work to try to hold a fucking conversation with, you know?” Tommy finally groused.

“Well it might be easier to have a conversation with you if I knew what we were talking about.” Wilbur responded, finally looking back up from his phone. “Not really tracking… this.”

Tommy felt himself bristle.

“Can’t you just answer the fucking question?” he snapped, “Would you be fine if you had to live in a hotel, or not?”

Wilbur sighed, an dramatic thing made overly so as he let his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch in exasperation.

“Very well, child,” he groans, “I guess it would depend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Tommy exclaims, although he feels like screaming.

“Means what it means.” Wilbur shrugged. “Why am I there? For how long do I live there? Is there a functional swimming pool?”

“Like that’s so important.”

“Extremely.” Wilbur says in mock sincerity, looking over at Tommy.

“What’s this all about, anyway?”

Tommy scowls, sinking down more into the couch. “Nothing.”

He thinks Wilbur watches him for a hot second, but when Tommy steals another glance over Wilbur is, once again, busy on his damned phone.

So Tommy and his still aching mind turn back to the movie and his ruminations. Neither comforted or unsettled or really any different from before.

Wilbur is fucking bad at this.

And Tommy is really fucking piss poor at metaphors. He’ll blame his piss-poor life.

****

Expert from the up-and-coming second chapter of Bummerland!

[starl1t-vo1d]

Don't scare me like that

Revalink prompt, show me / too close - teen and up rating for mild violence / injury

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

This one was fun to write. I don't have much to say this time around. Story under the keep reading more detailed tags on ao3.

"Your teeth are chattering drink another elixir." 

Revali's words sounded harsh but Link could read the care that they held. It had taken practice to pick it out but practice was something Link was used to. He nodded and dug through his bag to uncork and chug the bitter potion, sticking his tongue out after at the taste.

"Can't you customize those to a certain degree?" Revali asked from his spot beside Link. 

"Maybe, but I don't know enough to risk doing so and them not working." Link shrugged, "They aren't terrible just not great." 

Revali scanned the area they were walking through instead of replying. The wind howled loudly, promising a storm later if they weren't careful to get back before dark. They should be, Link and Revali were currently climbing through Hebra Mountains to dispose of a monster camp they caught word of it shouldn't take long at all given their combined skills. Revali, apparently not seeing whatever he was looking for, took to the sky scanning from higher up.

"Wait there a moment!" He called before shooting off to the left of the path they were following. 

Link did as told, though he shivered against the wind. He wasn't waiting long though before Revali returned, dropping down next to him with a triumphant grin. 

"Here," Revali held out his hand.

Raising a confused eyebrow Link held out his in return. Whatever Link had been expecting it hadn't been the handful of wild berries he was given. Without both hands to properly sign Link fixed Revali with a confused look.

"To get the taste of the elixir out of your mouth?" Revali started walking again spurring Link to follow. "Come on now, was standing there for a moment enough to freeze your thoughts?" 

Link smiled, eating a few and then placing the rest away to free his hands. "Thanks." 

Revali only shrugged, replying with a noncommittal hum.

Yes, Link thought, if you watched close enough it was easy to see Revali cared. 

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

It was around noon when they finally spotted the group of bokoblin they were searching for. However, the wind had picked up threatening the storm much sooner now. They would have to make short work of this and then find a cave to camp the night at this rate. 

"I'll pick the lookouts off. Be careful drawing them out of their camp though stand back enough for me to light those bomb barrels first." 

Link surveyed the camp from behind the group of rocks they were using for cover. "Set them off now, I'll take care of the lookouts so that way I can move in closer sooner." 

Revali nodded, "Be mindful of the wind while you aim." He said before launching himself into the air. 

Link drew his bow waiting for the sound of explosions before leaving the cover and firing at the two bokoblin lookouts. He missed his first shot but that didn't matter when he aimed and fired faster than the bokoblins did even after having to correct for the wind. He drew his sword and ran forward to meet the bokoblins spilling out of their camp. It was easy work made easier by Revali's help from the sky and soon the camp had been cleared.

Or so they had thought. 

Link didn't know how the bokoblin had escaped both of their sights except maybe the snow that had started to fall giving it cover. What mattered now though was it was drawing an arrow to fire up at where Revali was circling the area one last time. Link didn't think before running forward to put himself between the arrow and Revali. Sharp pain blossomed from his shoulder making him let out a cry that caught Revali's attention. The bokoblin in front of him fell backward as an arrow lodged itself into its head. Revali was in front of Link a second later.

"You stupid fool, why did you do that? It's likely that it would have missed! You could have shouted for me to dodge!" Revali pulled his scarf off even as he berated Link, tying it tightly around Link's shoulder to staunch the bleeding. "Don't answer, don't aggravate the wound." Revali crouched in front of him.

It wasn't ideal for Link to ride on Revali's back while the Rito was carrying his bow, which is why they had been walking in the first place. It was less ideal for him to do so without being able to hold on properly. But the wind and snow were roaring now and they couldn't stay here so their options were to hope they could make it back to the village or otherwise find a spot that would be suitable to hide from the storm and hope that Link’s injury wasn't so terrible.

It was the latter that ended up happening, luckily the cave that Revali spotted was deep enough that the wind couldn't reach them. Revali made quick work of starting a fire, being careful it wasn't so big they'd drown in smoke before turning to Link.

"Okay, show me." 

Link undid the scarf, setting it aside while Revali rummaged through Link's bag. He passed him another elixir before going back to looking for something. Link pulled the cork with his teeth to drink it then set the bottle aside pulling off his tunic -very painfully- so that his shoulder could be examined. 

"Link, I need you to be very serious with me," Revali's voice was quiet and strained. "Why do you carry so little in the way of first aid?"

Link couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, it was hardly the time for it but maybe he could blame it on blood loss. Revali fixed him with a glare.

"To be fair," Link's voice cracked and seemed to surprise Revali but he had said not to aggravate his shoulder. "I don't know how to do much myself so it's a waste of space."

"A waste of-!" Revali trilled high and distressed. "Foolish! Dumb! Absolutely idiotic!"

Revali continued to grumble to himself as he tended to Link's shoulder. Link thought about pointing out that Revali didn't seem to carry any supplies, first aid, or otherwise but thought it unwise to further agitate the Rito. Instead, he bit his lip and tried not to flinch away as Revali worked.

“When did you learn first aid?” Link asked because the tense silence was stifling. 

“Young,” Revali’s voice was clipped.

“That’s unexpected.” 

“I had to, it wasn’t a choice, count yourself lucky I learned even if I wasn’t.” 

“What do you-?” Link hissed as Revali tightened the bandages.

“It’ll do for the night, we’ll have to hope that the storm clears so we can get you to a healer tomorrow.” Revali pulled back, scrutinizing his handiwork.

Link shrugged his tunic back on, it was bloody but even though the cave had warmed up it was still a bad idea to go without the layer for the night. “Thank you,” He signed.

“Now that that's taken care of,” Revali shoved Link’s leg, fresh anger blossoming on his face. “What were you thinking?!”

“It was going to shoot you!” Link had to keep his signs small which was frustrating making him huff in annoyance. 

“There were so many other options! Did you not think?”

“No! No, okay I didn’t. Excuse me for caring about you! I acted on instinct!”

“Instinct? The instinct to get yourself killed is more like it! Any more to the right and it would have been your throat! You could have died!”

This was the first time Link had heard Revali raise his voice this loud outside of a fight. Looking closer and Link realized with a frown that there were tears welling in Revali’s eyes.

Oh… Link hadn’t thought that would happen.

Revali blinked hard then dropped his head to hide it in Link’s chest when that didn’t work to clear the tears. 

“You’re so stupid and you are going to be the death of me. I am going to die of stress because of you why did Hylia have to curse me so to love someone so reckless.” Revali hiccuped through the words and at this point, Link couldn’t tell if they were tears of anger or tears of relief.

Wait- love? 

Link tapped Revali’s shoulder, coaxing the Rito to look at him again. “Love?”

Shock dawned on Revali’s face as his words caught up with him and he buried his face again with a loud groan. “Look at that you even managed to ruin my confession! I didn’t want to say it like that!”

“Sorry sorry,” Link whispered. He ran his hands over Revali’s shoulders trying to soothe him, “For what it’s worth I love you too.”

Revali just groaned again. “You forget this, I never said anything okay? You forget all about this, it was just a pain fever dream. I will do it properly another time.”

Link laughed as Revali finally looked up, scrubbing a wing across his face.

“Forget what? I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.” Link signed.

“I’m not talking about anything,” Revali draped himself across Link again as though the way to keep Link from getting himself into danger was to hold him down.

He could be persuaded honestly Revali was very warm and his feathers soft. 

[ateezreactionsandscenarios]

Backfired

Pairing: Mafia! Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Angst, Mention of a panic attack, and a brief mention of blood!

CW: Mention of panic attacks, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 3056

Summary: Mafia Boss Hongjoong has brought you along on an important mission as his most trusted ally, or so he thought, when you blow their cover he knows punishment is needed to make sure mistakes like this don’t happen again but did he take the punishment a bit too far?

Part 2

Prompt List               MasterList         Buy me a Coffee

“Remember, he said to keep it clean.” Yeosang reminded you for probably the 10th time since you’d been on the rooftop. ��Yeosang, give it a rest will you, I know what my orders are.” You snap back at him. Your boss Hongjoong had trusted you to take out their latest target and he made it very clear he wanted it done clean and to have no attention drawn. He had full confidence in you, after all, you were the only one he could fully trust, his greatest ally. You hadn’t been working for him long but he saw great potential in you, taking you under his wing the day you started and in no time he’d trained you to be the best assassin in the mafia. But your titles didn’t stop there, the mutual respect you and Hongjoong had for each other (and the possible sweet spot he had for you) meant you were a bigger part of his group than you made out to be, you were his second in command, you were the one he went to when deals had to be struck and stupid dinners needed to be attended and most of all the one he trusted the most to take out the bigger targets just like the one you were working on now.

Perched at your snipper you waited patiently for the target to come into view, the information given to you was that he’d pass by the big tree at the gates of the park at 1:15 on the dot, he did so every time he returned to work from lunch every day without fail, you’d also been given a detailed description and a rather blurry photo of what he looked like so you avoided killing the wrong person. You glance at your watch which read 1:10, just 5 minutes to go and it was game over for him, no witnesses, nothing to trace the assassination back to you, Yeosang, or the group, everything was going to plan. “5 minutes y/n, better keep an eye out.” Yeosang piped up again, not like he was really doing anything himself. “Yeosang, I swear, if you open your trap one more time or try to tell me how to do my job again this bullet will be going into your head instead.” You threatened, glaring at him as you did so. He held his hands up in surrender, returning to playing with the little stone on the floor.

1:13 and there he was, the other side of the park, clear as day. You took your stance peering through the sniper’s scope, ready to pull the trigger as soon as he was in place. “Ah shit.” Yeosang hissed getting to his feet. “Yeosang, get down! He’s almost in place if you get seen we’re in the shit.” 

“That’s not what you have to worry about right now...Witnesses.” Your heart started to race and for once in your career, you were nervous to take the shot. The target got closer and closer to where he needed to be, your window of time was shrinking, and fast. “Y/n, there’s a lot of witnesses, I don’t know what’s going on over there but there’s a lot of people.” You didn’t know what to do, either way, you were getting into shit, either you take the shot, killing the target and completing the mission but drawing a lot of attention which was going against Hongjoong’s instructions, or to avoid the attention you let the man walk away with his life ultimately failing a mission for the first time in your career. “Y/n, what are gonna do!?” Yeosang started to panic next to you, not making your thinking process any easier. “Will you shut the fuck up, I’m thinking.” 

“Well think faster we’ve got mere seconds to take the shot or not!” You sigh, weighing out your options you knew there was only one thing you could do, the one that would get you into less trouble. You had to let him go, even if it meant failing the mission you couldn't risk the amount of attention it would draw in. The target came into place, your finger still on the trigger but laying limp with no intention of pulling the trigger. “Y/N!” Yeosang hissed suddenly causing you to jump and as a result, pulling the trigger. “Shit!” You cried out falling backward from the snipper trying to process what you just did. “Y/n, what are you doing!? The witnesses.” Yeosang was in full panic mode at this point his breathing heavy as he tried to work out a way in which this could be fixed or how to break the news to Hongjoong. “I was going to let him walk away but then you had to open your mouth!” You peer over the side of the roof to see if by some sort of miracle you’d managed to pull it off. Well on the bright side you’d successfully eliminated the target, clearly indicated by the way the body lay limp in a slowly growing pool of blood, but the consequence now was there was a swarm of people rushing over to the body screaming and calling for help. “Fuck, what are we going to do?” Yeosang’s face was white as a sheet at this point, the blind panic he was in made small beads of sweat form on his forehead. “Look, he’s going to find out one way or another and I think he’ll go easy on us if we tell him ourselves.” You start to pack away your gear turning back to Yeosang who was just standing there like an idiot. “We need to get out of here and fast, you call Hongjoong and tell him exactly what happened while I pack this shit away.” He nods quickly turning on his heels and walking off to make the call. 

His hands trembling as he punched in the number, the dial tone making him feel sick to his stomach, Hongjoong would go easy on you, you’re his favourite, but the same couldn’t be said for Yeosang he didn’t want to know what was in store for him. “Is it done?” Hongjoong said as he answered the call making Yeosang’s stomach drop to his feet. “Boss, there’s been an issue a pretty big one too,” Yeosang said quietly into the phone making sure you couldn’t hear him. There was no response from Hongjoong, knowing he was waiting for him to explain he continued to talk. “Boss, there were witnesses around...a lot of them, I tried to tell her it was too risky to take the shot, we’d get caught, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t care about the witnesses, she took the shot. There’s a big crowd down there.” He could hear the heavy breathing he knew all too well, Hongjoong was furious, punishment was afoot, he was just hoping his story was convincing enough for him to be let off the hook and for only you to be left with the repercussions. “Tell Y/n I want a word with her when you get back.” And with that he hung up. The anxiety never left Yeosang, he might be in the clear with Hongjoong but you on the other hand he was going to have trouble with, but you were the lesser of two evils, you didn’t scare him as much as Hongjoong did.

“How did he take it?” You asked not looking up from the box you were packing quickly. “Do you really need to ask?” The anxious tone in his voice told you all you needed to know. With a sigh you shut the lid and hurried for an escape. “Come on then, we might as well get it over with.” 

Sitting outside Hongjoong’s office you bounced your leg feeling uneasy over what was to come. Yeosang had gone in first, you were hoping with him going first Hongjoong might relieve most of his anger on him and possibly go a little lighter on you...you hoped. The whole room was silent, not even the small mumble of shouting from the other side of the door. Hearing Hongjoong scream at Yeosang might have calmed your nerves but right now you had to deal with the agonising silence while you wait to be called in.

The door opened, snapping you out of your thoughts. You got to your feet only to be greeted by Yeosang who was hanging his head like a child who just got a scolding from his mother. “Good luck.” He mumbled, not making eye contact before leaving you. You step into the office, Hongjoong sat at his desk with his head in his hands as his fingers grip clumps of his hair in frustration. “Hongjoong, before you say anything let me...”

“No.” He cut you off looking you in the eye, you could see just from the way he looked at you how pissed he was. You pressed your lips together, doing as you were told and keeping quiet. “So you took the shot, knowing there were witnesses.” He started, for now he sounded calm. "I told you, strictly no witnesses, to keep it clean y/n." You opened your mouth to speak but seeing the way he shot you a warning look you quickly shut your mouth. "Do you have any idea how bad this can get because of your carelessness!?" You jumped a little when the tone of Hongjoong's voice suddenly rose almost to a shout, you just hoped he didn't notice. "Hongjoong, please let me explain." He sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest waiting for you to try and talk your way out of this. "I knew I was going to get in shit no matter what I did, there were only 2 options, let the target walk away or kill him and attract witnesses. I wanted to let him walk away."

"Then why didn't you, you took the shot y/n." Anger started to bubble inside you remembering the way Yeosang had royally fucked up the whole plan. "I was letting him go, I stayed at the gun in hopes there was a way I could still go through with the mission, I had no intention of pulling the trigger, but Yeosang..."

"Yeosang? Why is he brought into this?"

"He's the one who was panicking, he made me jump and that's when the trigger was pulled." Hongjoong rose from his seat, a small smirk on his face. This didn't look good. "Trying to push the blame on Yeosang for your carelessness?" You were astonished, how could he think that? "Yeosang was the one who called me to break the news, which you probably already know, but he told me you didn't care about witnesses, you wanted the target gone." Your blood was boiling, that little rat, to keep his own ass out of trouble he pushed it all onto you. "Y/n," He started, walking up to you. "I trusted you, you are my greatest ally, the one I trust the most." You felt a small pain in your chest, you knew all of this but he never outwardly told you so hearing it now while you're being scolded hurt on a whole new level. "How am I meant to trust you again?"

"THIS WASN'T MY FAULT, YEOSANG IS A RAT!" You screamed in his face doing the best you could to defend yourself but instantly regretting it as soon as you opened your mouth. His eyes went dark, fury burning inside him, no one dares talk back to him let alone raise their voice, and you just did both. Hongjoong didn't utter another word to you, he didn't need to, you knew what happened to people who went against him and that sent a surge of anxiety through your bones. Grabbing you by the wrist dragging you out of his office and down the hallway. You did all you could to fight back against his grasp, you knew what was waiting for you behind that door and it terrified you, he clearly forgot about your deep rooted fear. "Hongjoong please, anything but there, you know I can't do it!" You cried out on the verge of tears watching as the door got closer and closer. "You should have thought about that before answering back." He spat before throwing open the door and pushing you into the dark room before slamming the door on you making sire to lock it behind him.

The room was pitch black so much so to the point you couldn't see your hand in front of your face, the darkness was everywhere, it swallowed you whole and you could feel it, you could feel how the darkness had you in a tight grasp squeezing the air from your lungs. "HONGJOONG!" You screamed desperately banging on the door, tears streaming down your face as panic started to take over. You banged on the door for what felt like forever, hands surely bruised from the constant impact, but it was no use, he'd gone, he was long gone and you were alone in the dark. You slid down the door clutching your knees to your chest in an attempt to find some comfort, your breathing was getting heavier as your heart raced, hammering against your chest so hard you could almost hear it in the dead silence of the room. It felt like the whole room was closing in on you, you felt like you were suffocating no matter how much u panted or how deep a breath you took you were still breathless, it was like you were underwater. Sweat started to pump out of you from every inch of your body, you were so warm you were to the point you could have stripped down to nothing and still be sweaty but you were to terrified to even move an inch, literally scared stiff. You don't know how long you were in the room for could have been minutes could have been hours, you'd lost all sense of time and the longer you were locked up the worse your panic attack got until finally the last thing you remember was your whole body slumping to the floor.

Around 2 hours had gone by and Hongjoong thought you'd spent enough time locked away, maybe you'd have learnt your lesson by now, not only about talking back to him but also for going against orders. He didn’t think twice about your silence on the other side of the door as he casually walked up to it almost like you hand’t been locked in there for hours. “Well I think it’s been enough time Y/n.” He called out to you looking for the key to unlock the door, but now the silence made him uneasy. He was expecting an answer even if it was a blunt one but more silence met his ears. “Y/n?” Hongjoong opened the door only to find you slumped unconscious on the floor. His heart started racing as he ran up to you pulling you into his lap lightly tapping your cheeks to get you to wake up. “Y/n? Y/n wake up!” His voice became shaky after no response from you as you lay limp in his arms. You eventually came around, eyes fluttering open to look at him as he let out a big sigh of relief. “Y/n, what happened?” You looked at him confused for a second before looking around at your surroundings. Recognising the room you’d been trapped in you hastily climbed off him panicking yet again as the memories of the terror you just experienced flooded your mind once again. “Y/n, Y/n, calm down.” 

“Fuck you Hongjoong.” His eyes blew up wide, he had no clue where this was coming from, he’d understand if you were mad about the punishment but to react like this really had him stumped. “You of all people I’d have thought would never put me through this, you know how terrified I am of the dark and yet you fucking trapped me in here for fuck knows how long and all without a second thought.” The guilt washed over him as he put 2 and 2 together, he knew how terrified of the dark you were and he’d seen it first hand, he didn’t know how he could forget such a thing and if anything his heart broke. He wouldn’t openly say it, it just stayed as an unsaid thing between you both, he had such a soft spot for you, he didn’t know if it was because of the trust and understanding he had with you to the point he saw you as a friend, possibly his only friend, or if the feelings towards you were a little more than that. But right now he knew he had to make it up to you.

You pulled yourself up to your feet unsteadily, stumbling a little as your legs felt like jelly beneath you, he tried to help you steady yourself but you simply pushed him away not even wanting to look at him. “Y/n, please I completely forgot, please forgive me.” You didn’t even look back at him or show any sign of acknowledgement towards him as you walked out the door and as far away from him as you could get. “Y/n!” Hongjoong yelled running up to you, clutching your wrist trying to stop you going any further, but once again you forcefully pulled yourself free from his grasp and continued on your way. 

Hongjoong had no clue on how to make it up to you, the very fact you couldn’t even look in his direction right now made him feel so hopeless. He was never one to be able to handle the cold shoulder easily but now it was coming from you nothing else that was going on right now mattered, he didn’t care about what happened on the mission and what repercussions could be coming his way all he wanted to do right now was to show you in any way he could how sorry he was, how awful he felt, and how much you really meant to him. It was going to take a lot of time and effort but it would all be worth it in the end if it meant you’d talk to him again. He didn’t want to admit it, but right now he felt so hopelessly lost without you.

Tag list:   @kpopcrossworlds @kpopjust4u  @whatudowhennooneseesyou​  @8tinytings  @jenotation​ @grim-adventures58​ ​  @owjohny​  @ker1​

[hmslusitania]

It tightens its grip when things go unsaid

A soft (??) 5x14 coda built on like a dozen posts I saw on my dash this morning. It sure went. A direction.

“Oh my god, you kept this?”

Eddie freezes in place, paused with his hands and the broccolini under the frigid water of the tap.

“Kept what?” he asks, attempting for casual. It had been a lot easier to maintain a calm disinterest before Frank but as it turns out, part of getting better was giving up playing numb.

Buck pulls the drawing off the fridge, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. Gives himself that much longer to deny it.

“Eddie,” Buck prompts, and there’s laughter in his voice but there’s something else too. Something softer, gentler.

“It was — Chris said I—” and he pauses again. Because yes, Chris had said he should keep Buck’s heart drawing, but that wasn’t why Eddie had done it. And he’s spent enough time filtering his feelings towards Buck through Chris. “I liked it.”

Buck snorts and pins it back under the magnets. “Makes me feel bad. I shoulda drawn you a better one.”

“I didn’t draw you one at all,” Eddie replies which is probably nonsensical.

“It’s not like I’ve got a fridge to hang it on anymore anyway,” Buck points out.

He doesn’t. Not with the way he’s been sleeping on Eddie’s couch since he ceded his apartment in the breakup. He’s been in Eddie’s house for two weeks now and Eddie can’t fathom how Buck has missed the drawing so far.

It’s later when they’re on shift, and everyone else is passed out, that Eddie gets the idea. They don’t exactly keep craft supplies around the station, but he finds some paper and a pencil and by the time Bobby wakes up to come get started on breakfast, Eddie’s gone a bit overboard. Partway into the exercise, he’d noticed one of Hen’s surgical textbooks lying in the loft and flipped it to the relevant page, and as it turns out, the art classes he’d taken in high school — the ones he’d insisted were just because he was crushing on a girl, which made them acceptable — hadn’t quite worn off.

The piece of art he’s scribbled down in graphite isn’t quite an anatomical heart and it isn’t quite a photorealistic depiction from the textbook and it isn’t quite the cartoony simplicity Buck had given him. It’s not nearly so digestible and easy to accept. He thinks the thing he’s supposed to do with something like this is being it to his therapist the way a pet cat brings a dead animal, but he doesn’t. Instead, he avoids Bobby’s questioning gaze and takes it downstairs. He tapes it to the inside door of their locker, and forgets about it seconds later because the bell goes.

He doesn’t think about it again until the second Buck opens their locker after their shift is done. He pauses, head tilting sideways, and Eddie considers ducking behind the shelves and hiding his face in the stacks of towels.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Buck says. “This is, like, cool.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“It’s cool,” Buck says. He gently unpeels the tape from the locker and just stares down at the drawing. “Would it be weird if I got this as a tattoo?”

“If you got it as—seriously?”

Buck looks guileless when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s eye. “I don’t have a fridge.”

Eddie almost points out that this is why he’d put it in the locker, but something in Buck’s face stops him. He almost points out that Buck’s skin is not interchangeable with a fridge, but he doesn’t do that either. It’s the visual representation of Eddie’s still battered but healing heart and Buck wants to ink it onto his own flesh.

“If you want,” Eddie says finally. “But I won’t be offended if you change your mind by the time you actually get in to see an artist.”

Buck grins but it’s too soft around the eyes to be a real flippant smile. “I won’t.”

[kingsansa]

Prompt(if you’re still accepting)

PP: Thunder

“Are you mad at me?”

Jon almost doesn’t hear her.

Outside, the thunder is too loud, and in his bed, she’s too quiet. She’s on her back, staring up at the ceiling, body angled away from him. He’s sitting in the desk chair so that he doesn’t make her uncomfortable, rubbing his clammy palms on the knees of his jeans.

His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, “Mad?”

Sansa just looks off to the side, head turning away from him too. He waits for her answer, breath caught in his throat, heart pounding in his chest.

Wondering if he really managed to mess it all up this badly; the one thing in his life that feels truly his.

She fists at the covers, pulled up her chest.

“Because I couldn’t—” She stops, neck flushing pink. She still isn’t looking at him, “You invited me over and we didn’t….you know.”

Underneath the duvet, she’s not wearing any clothes. He got as far as brushing his fingers against the clasp of her bra before she asked him to stop. Her jeans and her sweater are still crumpled on the ground.

His heart in his ears is almost as loud as the thunder.

“You think that’s why I invited you over?”

It comes out harsher, flatter than he intends. But over her shoulder, Sansa meets his eyes all the same; unsure and ashamed. Ashamed at the fact that she’s unsure, or the fact that she’s here with him?

Jon doesn’t think he wants to know.

She turns to face him.

“I don’t know.” She mumbles.

Deep down, he knows that’s no one’s fault but his own, but it stings all the same, rubs raw against him worse than any sunburn.

He texts her during class to pull her beneath stairwells. He spends the night at Robb’s house just to sneak into her room as soon as he’s asleep. He reclines the seat of his car back so she can slide into his lap. She says things, up against his mouth and his skin, things that make his throat constrict and his heart pound—and he pretends he doesn’t hear her. It’s easier than acknowledging the words as being given to him, as belonging to them. Making them all the more easier to take away.

Jon almost tells her this.

He wants to. So badly.

“I invited you over because I wanted to be with you.” He says the words quietly, so he doesn’t have to hear them echoing in his ears. “Half of the time, I don’t wanna be around anyone else but you.”

Sometimes, it’s hard to look at her.

Her face is always so open, and every emotion, she gives freely. The scrunch of her nose when she laughs. Her teeth on her lower lip when she’s trying not to smile. The flinch that ripples across her face when she’s hurt.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt her.

And every time she looks at him like that, so tender, so hopeful, his determination not to, to make whatever this is work, renews itself.

All while knowing it’s inevitable in the back of his mind all of the same.

“I like being around you, too.” She says softly.

He knows that.

He doesn’t know why every time it comes—the confirmation that she needs him the way he needs her—it’s like there’s air in his lungs again. Like he can finally breathe again—

“I like you so much.” Sansa whispers.

Jon draws a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from her. He feels close to saying something he shouldn’t.

“Will you kiss me now?”

She’s looking at him, fingers massaging the inside of her palm, unsure. Like she’s still afraid she messed it all up, like she could ever do anything to make him hate her.

He doesn’t tell her she can’t.

He tugs her by the wrist, over to the edge of the bed, just to kiss her instead.

[robininthelabyrinth]

for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️

Compliments - ao3

It started in anger, out of spite.

Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.

What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.

He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.

“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”

Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”

Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.

Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.

“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”

Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?

Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.

They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.

Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.

Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.

Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.

Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.

What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.

Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.

He couldn’t say that, of course.

So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”

Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.

“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”

“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”

Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.

It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.

Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.

Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…

“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”

Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.

“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”

“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”

“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”

“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”

“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”

Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.

Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”

Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.

Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”

“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”

“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”

“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”

Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?

“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”

She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.

In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.

He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.

(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)

He didn’t think much of it.

Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.

“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”

“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”

“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”

When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.

“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”

Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.

It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”

“You – you said – about me…!”

Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”

Yeah, it was probably that one.

“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”

“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”

Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”

He had in fact done that.

“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”

Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”

“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”

“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.

Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.

“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”

Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”

He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.

Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.

“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”

“Fix what?”

“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.

“You’re going to do what?!”

“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”

The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.

Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.

“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.

Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”

“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”

Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”

“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”

Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”

“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.

After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.

[maraudersftw]

Claudia — this prompt!!!!!!! 💕✨

1. Two characters haven’t seen each other for a while, one keeps rambling about something insignificant and the other one kisses them because “Shut up you’re rambling just kiss me.”

Omg, M, so excited to receive this from you! 😂💜 And I had a blast writing it, so obviously it got long (1.5k words). Thanks for the prompt. Hope you enjoy!

Glittering Darkness

The Butterbeer is a slide of warm froth down his throat, easing up frozen insides brought on by the biting January cold. He smiles, grin stupid on face, hazel eyes bright behind glasses, and listens to Sirius yammer on about Quidditch and teams and players—

“The Canons don’t stand a fucking chance this season, mate,” Sirius repeats for the thousandth time that week, to the audience of Remus’s rolling eyes, Peter’s enraptured gaze and James’s dazed attention. “I have my bet on the Arrows. I mean, have you seen Crossby’s performance lately? Not missed a single bloody snitch so far in. That’s gotta be some kind of record, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it? Oi, Prongs!” he snaps, brows instantly furrowed at not receiving James’s immediate response, no matter that Peter’s vehement nodding probably dislodges the boy’s neck. “Someone throw a Confundus at you? That’s a dumb expression on your face, if I’ve seen one.”

James sighs, leans back, embraces the lovely chatter of his peers around The Three Broomsticks. “I’m just having a good day.”

The boys are instantly suspicious, each choosing to express such emotion with a varying degree of subtlety.

“How come?” Sirius asks, sounding almost put off at not being privy to the answer already.

“Well, I get to spend such a lovely afternoon with you lads. What more could I want?”

“To get laid,” says Sirius, a phrase that is followed immediately by Peter’s loud snort of laughter.

“By a very specific person,” Remus can’t help but add, amusement quirking his mouth in that typical way of his.

“Nonsense,” he waves off, another gulp of Butterbeer tossed back. “I’m perfectly content.”

“Okay, I take it back. It has to be a cheering charm,” Sirius ponders solemnly, just as a group of familiar Gryffindors enters The Three Broomsticks, huddling together as they brush off snow from thick robes and gloves.

Such a sight is by no means a rarity, given that the pub has already been crawling with Hogwarts students since the start of day. But James’s eyes are quick to lock onto a very specific person, a flash of red hair, pink cheeks, bright, bright laughter. No one around him seems to notice the tectonic plates shifting under their feet, nor the way that colour splashes, vibrant and sudden, painting the world afresh. No, they carry on with their conversations and snark as if air hasn’t suddenly become easier to draw in, as if her mere presence hasn’t literally lit up the room. He supposes, after a second of reflection, that she’s indeed his personal cheering charm.

Lily nods to the girls—Mary, Dorcas, Marlene—and points to a booth somewhere at the back. He can’t be arsed to check the exact location; not when it means taking his eyes off a much better alternative. But instead of moving away with them as they take their seats, Lily, curiously enough, breaks off from the group, face blank, easy grace and gait as she meanders off to the loo. Her eyes don’t travel to him, not once.

And yet, James spots that minuscule quirk of lips right before she disappears from view.

Oh.

Very well then.

He’s instantly on his feet, wooden chair scraping back with a loud groan, cutting off Remus mid-speculation as to the reason behind James’s jolly disposition. Three heads turn to him; curious, amused, perhaps even a little concerned.

“Um, you okay, mate?”

“Brilliant,” James replies, feels a thrum of excitement shiver through him, and wonders if it’s openly visible. “Perfectly brilliant. I just need to take a leak.”

“Well, alright, Mr Potter, you’re excused.” Remus laughs.

He takes the time to roll his eyes, but not the effort to dim his smile. It’s probable he looks like a complete loon on a sugar rush, but James truly has never cared about anything less. “Yeah, yeah, have your chuckles, Mr Moony. We’ll see who’s laughing by the end of the day.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you mean, and you sound completely unthreatening with that ridiculous beaming going on.”

James scoffs, walks away from another bout of laughter. “Fuck off.”

The hallway leading to the loos remains mercifully empty; luck that he doesn’t take for granted thanks to the crowd spilling inside the pub. With a quick manoeuvre honed over years of efficient marauding, he pulls out a shrunken invisibility cloak from his robes, enlarges it to its normal size, and disappears beneath the silvery material, feeling its strange softness like a second skin. And then he flattens himself against the wall, scooting around until he’s strategically placed within an alcove near the entrance to the girls’ lavatory—far away enough to give a wide berth to anyone he doesn’t want to alert, but near enough for an encounter with his target.

His target, who he presumes is not nearly as unsuspecting as she’d let on.

It takes only about ten seconds or so before he sees the swish of her robes, witnesses the easy smile on her face as Lily rounds the corner, nose teased red from cold, freckles scattered like stars, and finds the walls of his chest tighten like concrete slabs at the sight.

In a flash of movement, he’s got a hand wrapped around her wrist, sliding to her waist, yanking her firmly against his body without so much as a whispered greeting. Lily’s impulsive screech of surprise dies down the instant the cloak falls over her head, enveloping them both. The tension of her muscles melts away beneath his fingertips, and she’s quick to plant her hands on his chest, brush indelicately closer, space shrinking enough that he tastes the mint on her breath when she speaks.

“Rather indecent of you to accost me like this, Potter.”

He bends down, appreciates the excited gleam in the green of her eyes. His thumb finds her nape, massages gently. “I had something very important to discuss with you.”

“Mm,” Lily purrs. “That’s better. How may I help you?”

“You see,” he starts, chokes slightly when she grinds against him purposefully. “You see, I was just leaving the castle this morning, ready for a lovely outing with my mates, when a witch who looked remarkably like you all but shoved me into a broom closet, declared her undying love for me, and then snogged me into oblivion. And well, you’ve got to understand what that sort of thing does to a bloke’s mental state.”

“Huh,” she remarks, lets her upper lip slide over his bottom one, nothing but a ghost of touch. “I don’t know much about undying love proclamations, but do go on about this snogging into oblivion business, please.”

James drops his head, sucks on the pulse that jumps beneath the skin of her neck. “Oblivion. Abyss. A whole lot of glittering darkness,” he confesses. “And since this witch resembled you—”

“Remarkably,” she moans, soft.

“Remarkably, of course—I thought it only proper to inform you of such an occurrence, y’know, for reputation’s sake. You’ve got that Head Girl image to maintain. Can’t have imposters of you running around making out with the Head Boy. Doesn’t look too good, to be honest. And I’m saying this purely out of selflessness, of course. If, on the other hand, you were to shed some light on this act and admit to...I don’t know...a lack of an imposter, it would mean a whole other thing—”

Lily slams him back against the wall, hand shoving his chest, mouth dangerously close to his. “Shut up, you’re rambling.” She smirks. “Just kiss me.”

And almost as if unable to sustain any patience to allow him to follow the directive, her lips crush over his in a kiss that somehow burns through his every molecule, scorching the very skin he wears, rivalling even the best kiss he’s ever had in his life, which was, incidentally, shared with the same person naught but two hours ago. Lily’s hand curls over his collar, twisting the fabric, giving her purchase to devour him alive. He reciprocates with a tightening grip on her waist, tilting her jaw, slipping his tongue inside to brush over the warm wetness of hers. A mad rush of breath, of gliding mouths and hands and softly uttered moans passes between them, the air under the cloak sweltering despite the cold outside.

Eventually, James wrenches himself away long enough to get the word out; her name. “Lily.”

“Mm,” she manages, lips on his cheek.

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me.”

The breathless sincerity of his tone gives her pause, and she pulls back, eyes dark and confused. “What?”

“Do you,” he swallows past the cowardice, the thump of his heart. “Is this happening for real? You actually want...me?”

A beat passes, a long one, and Lily stares and stares and stares. Eventually, a smile spills, and he’s reminded of that abyss; glittering endlessly. “Yeah, James. I want you. Wholly. Fully.” She kisses him again, trails the honey on his lips. “I’m just letting you enjoy this outing with the boys, because once we’re back at the castle…”

She’s trailed off, left him to articulate thoughts. “What then?”

Lily grins, glint of teeth so cruelly delicious that it steals his breath, especially when accompanied by the roll of her hips. “I’ll let you fill in the blank.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

I'm Okay (Sure)

Prompts: hi there! may i request some loceit angst for the soul? - anon

oh my goodness all your writing is so good!!!! i was wondering if you could write some loceit hurt comfort? preferably with Logan hurting? -anon

Hey I’m back with another print cause the last time I did that I sobbed for 30 minutes and I loved it. Anygay...Can you write a fic where Roman or Logan somehow end up thinking their worth is hinged on their ability to produce good work and what they are able to just take? Then Janus hears them saying they are okay and then tries to help? - anon

Listen lately there have been too many of these prompts that go 'hey *sucker-punch*' SO

We're fine. Everything's fine. Everything is so fine right now. Everything is so fine and good in the way that it's happening.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2198

There aren’t enough lies in the world to drown out the words that strike into Janus’s head.

I’m okay.

Janus frowns, setting his book down and glaring at the ceiling. As if he can glare the words away from the mouth of who just spoke them. But nothing changes. The curl at the back of his throat doesn’t vanish. The hiss still slides out of his mouth. He sighs and stands, sinking out to go find today’s pretty little liar.

He isn’t surprised when he strides out of the shadows next to a desk brimming with overstuffed notebooks and a box of tissues. He suppresses a sigh as he sees the door and folds his hands patiently. A few moments later, the door opens and Logan steps through, stopping when he sees Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow.

“Janus?” Logan glances over his shoulder. “How can I help you?”

Janus just hisses.

“I don’t know what that means,” Logan sighs, coming in the close the door, “just tell me what you want.”

He hisses again, drawing it out this time.

“Janus, I don’t know why you’re here.”

He sighs. The next hiss has his tongue flicking out through his teeth. Logan winces.

“Come here,” Janus murmurs, holding his hand out, “and I won’t let Patton see me.”

Logan winces again. “Did you hear both of us?”

“Just you,” Janus smirks. “Gotcha.”

“Well played,” Logan mutters, even as he walks across the room. “Now what do you want?”

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s certainly not that I’m concerned that you’re lying about being okay.”

“Janus,” he sighs, “how many times a day do you say the words ‘I’m fine?’ It’s not something to worry about.”

He narrows his eyes. “One of us is called ‘Deceit,’ my dear Logan, and one of us is not.”

“But—“

“Logan,” Janus calls softly, “don’t lie.”

For a moment, he thinks it might work. Then Logan presses his lips together and folds his hands.

“Not saying anything counts as a lie of omission here,” Janus sighs, “work with me.”

Logan says nothing. His gaze drops to a spot on the floor.

“…don’t make me do this,” Janus whispers.

Still nothing.

Oh, Logan, why so stubborn?

“You just came from baking with Patton,” Janus says softly, “there’s still flour on your tie.”

Logan’s face twitches once.

“You promised that you would stay the whole night this time,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “but you didn’t. You only leave when you’ve given a proper explanation, because you think it’s rude otherwise.”

He starts walking in a slow circle.

“But you didn’t—Patton followed you up here.” He casts a glance at the door. “Which means that you just…left.”

He stops, right behind him, watching the line of his back tense.

“Now, what would send our dear, darling nerd running for cover?”

He doesn’t miss the way Logan tries not to flinch.

“Was it something wrong with the baking? No, no, you’ve left your sleeves rolled a little—“ he reaches out to tap the fabric— “so you left in a hurry.”

“Enough,” comes the very quiet whisper.

“Your collar is still crooked,” Janus continues as he walks, “so you must’ve frozen in the middle of adjusting your tie.”

“Stop.” Still a whisper.

“And you’ve still got ink stains on your hands—“ he points— “which means you’ve not been paying attention for a while. Your focus is elsewhere.”

“Stop it.” Not quite a whisper.

“You were good enough to fool Patton,” Janus says, finishing the circle, “but sloppy. Too sloppy. The quality of your—“

“Stop!”

Logan moves in the blink of an eye, reaching out to shove himself away from Janus but he’s too slow. Janus has him by the forearms before he can react. He trembles in Janus’s hold as two more hands come up to fix the glasses on his nose.

“And,” Janus murmurs, his voice as soft as he can make it as he tilts Logan’s chin up to make sure the glasses are in place, “you’ve let me rile you up like this.”

He takes Logan’s face firmly in his hands.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Logan’s mouth trembles. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetie…”

“It is,” Logan protests stubbornly, “and that’s the problem.”

Janus frowns, gentling his grip on Logan’s arms and looping them around his neck. “What’s the problem, what’s made you so upset?”

“It’s nothing,” Logan says again, closing his eyes, “and I can’t—they—the problem is not something, it is the absence of something that is causing the issue.”

Janus makes a noise of understanding, letting Logan pull back enough to clean his glasses and straighten his tie. “And what is it that you wanted there to be?”

Logan huffs, still not making eye contact. “Something. Anything. I…it…my work.”

“What about your work?” Janus tips his head up. “Logan, you can talk to me. You don’t have to put all of this on.”

“I know,” he mumbles, “but that’s what I have to do for everyone else.”

“That’s not…” Janus trails off. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that,” he repeats, thing a step closer, “who told you that you have to sit there and take it? To put up the front of nothing hurting you?”

Logan just looks at him. Janus bites back a snarl and tugs Logan in for a proper hug.

“You’re not just Logic, sweetie,” he whispers, rubbing his back, “you’re Logan. And you’re allowed to have feelings.”

Logan’s head bows into Janus’s shoulder and for a moment, he thinks Logan’s going to choke out a sob or at least relax.

Instead, Logan tenses. “No, I can’t.”

And pulls away.

“I have to work,” he insists, already putting the facade back together, piece by piece, “and as such, I must focus. You are correct in pointing out that I have allowed my focus to drift, thus I must get it back. Thank you for correcting my error.”

He motions to the desk.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I’d better get back to work.”

He frowns when Janus is silent.

“Janus? Are you alright?”

Yes. Absolutely. Undeniably. He’s fine.

Because every single word that just came out of Logan’s mouth is fine. It makes complete sense. It implies a perfectly healthy relationship between Logan and his work. It ensures that Logan takes care of himself and that he knows he is supported.

“Logan,” Janus says softly, “I’m going to ask you a question.”

Logan blinks. “Alright.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

“I believe we have established that we are unable to lie successfully to you.”

That’s never stopped you from trying before.

Janus takes a deep breath. “Do you believe that your value and importance to us is based on the work that you are able to produce?”

Logan frowns. “Isn’t it?”

Janus’s heart breaks.

“Do you think,” he says instead, reaching out to take one of Logan’s hands, “Patton would’ve followed you up here if he were just concerned about your work?”

Logan frowns. “No, but that’s different.”

“Do you think Virgil would make a point of asking you whether or not you’re comfortable at scheduled times throughout movie nights if he were primarily focused on the work you produce?”

“No, but—“

“Do you think Remus,” Janus continues, raising his voice a little, “would sink into your room as often as he does because he wants to make sure you take breaks if he were only thinking about what work you were doing instead of taking a break?”

“N-no.”

“Do you think Roman purposefully takes you on walks in the Imagination, to drag you away from your work, do you think he would do that if he only wanted to spend time with you because of what work you do?”

Logan shakes his head wordlessly, looking away. Janus lets out a soft noise before he reaches out. This time he doesn’t even have to touch Logan’s chin before he looks back.

“Do you think that I would be here with you right now,” he murmurs, “if I didn’t care about you?”

There’s the sob he’s been expecting, choked out behind a hand quickly clapped to his mouth as Janus pulls him back in for a hug. He takes off Logan’s glasses and sets them on the table, crooning softly as he wraps the poor thing up in his arms and takes them to the bed.

“We care about you, sweetie,” he whispers, running his fingers through Logan’s hair, “not your work, you. We care about your work because it’s yours. Don’t forget that.”

Logan tries to pull back and say something only for his tie to get caught between them. Janus shushes him gently and snaps his fingers, changing them both into something softer. He tucks a hand around the back of Logan’s neck and coaxes him to breathe, come on sweetie, it’s alright.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Logan manages after a moment, wiping his face, “if I can—can believe that. J-just like that.”

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “but you try for me, okay?”

Logan still looks unconvinced. Janus raises an eyebrow.

“Would it be easier to hear from everyone else?”

“They wouldn’t say it.”

“…oh, sweetie, let me call them in here and prove you wrong.”

Logan just huffs. “You can try, I guess.”

Janus raises his voice and calls out: “Logan’s upset!”

They barely have time to blink before Remus has sunk right on top of them.

“Hey, Lolo,” he murmurs, voice soft enough to make Logan whimper and Janus chuckle, “you okay? When’s the last time you had a break?”

Virgil appears before Logan can answer, tucking himself behind Remus and tugging slightly at his collar. “Get off, Remus, we don’t know if he’s okay with physical contact right now.”

Remus grumbles but listens, shuffling back to give Logan breathing room. Virgil’s face softens when he sees Logan’s face.

“Hey, L, what’s up? You okay? Bad patch?”

Before Logan can answer, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hello? Can we come in, kiddo?”

“It’s open,” Janus calls, only for Patton and Roman to bustle in, Patton cooing and rushing to take Logan into his arms at the evidence of tears.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s the matter? I’m right here, it’s okay now, you’ll be alright.”

He hears Virgil mutter something about asking first before his attention turns to Roman. Roman raises an eyebrow at Janus, making his way over and bending down to ask, concerned: “what’s wrong? Did he tell you? Were you here when it started?”

Janus glances back at Logan, only for Logan’s gaze to land on Roman and his eyes widen.

“Hey, hey, Specs,” Roman hushes, raising his hands and doing his best to look non-threatening, “what’s that look for? Are you alright?”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Logan stammers, “I—I’m not done yet, I can’t—we—I—“

“Oh, Logan, I don’t care about the work—“ yes, Roman— “I’m worried about you. Tell us what’s wrong, let us help.”

Logan hasn’t processed anything past ‘I don’t care about the work,’ it seems, judging by the way his breathing almost stops.

“Y-you…you what?”

As Roman’s head tilts in confusion, Janus speaks up.

“Our dear darling nerd is under the impression that we base his value on the work that he is able to produce,” he says softly, “and not that we care about him.”

Logan’s eyes well up with tears as cries of shock and immediate reassurances fill the room. Patton and Remus, it seems, can’t be held back anymore and all but launch themselves at the poor thing, cuddling him between them like some great teddy bear. Virgil carefully takes Logan’s glasses and passes them to Roman before snuggling in beside Logan’s head. Roman carefully tidies Logan’s desk—and oh, the prince knows exactly how Logan likes his desk organized, does he, how interesting—before nudging Janus’s arm so they both sit on the bed proper.

“Oh,” Logan mumbles, lost underneath the Patton-Remus-Virgil at the other end of the bed, “oh.”

“Yes, sweetie, oh.” Janus chuckles as Logan’s arms come up to shyly hug the others.

“There really are so many self-worth issues around here,” Roman mutters, “aren’t there?”

Janus hums, obliging as Logan reaches out for both of them. “We can help with those, won’t we?”

“Of course.”

Only later, when they’re all about to doze off, still in a pile, does Janus realize that he may not have been able to glare them away, but the lie is completely gone from Logan’s mouth.

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[skellebonez]

Hey! This is my first time doing this ! But can you wirte a scenario where in Winter's cursed AU where MK's parents try to come back and get custody again?( With prompt 14 and 45) With protective monkey dads? Have a great rest of your day! 💕

Thank you so much, I hope you like this as your first fill! It was very enjoyable to write since I had this idea months ago but never had the chance to put it down. But you’re gonna get a little more than just protective monkey dads! This is set pretty far into @winterpower98 's AU so he has a lot of people behind him.

Am I scaring you?/You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child.

It didn’t take much guessing to figure out exactly what had made MK look like he wanted to run for the hills the second he picked up his phone. There were only a few very specific scenarios that could make him react like that now. But it was the way his face hardened and his whisper yelled into it that made Pigsy realize exactly who they were dealing with without the young man saying who it was.

Again.

“This is the third time you’ve gotten a new number for this,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “I’ve told you already, the answer is no.”

"Tang," Pigsy whispered, nudging his favorite freeloader to get his attention better. "Go keep an eye outside. The last time they did this they showed up an hour later. If they do we're shuttering the shop early."

"On it," Tang said with a nod, standing with another nod to MK as he left.

"I am an adult, you cannot do anything to- yes I'm sure. Yes... yes, because I have a lawyer now mom!"

MK’s tone of voice made Pigsy smirk proudly. Had this been a few years ago MK would have had so much difficulty even just talking back to his parents, going quiet and shrinking into himself. Now?

He was standing up straight, speaking firmly and calmly, raising his voice a bit even. In the years Pigsy had known the young man he had changed drastically when it came to his parents. His and Tang’s attempts to raise his confidence and teach him to speak up for himself had certainly helped in that regard, but his attained abilities and strength as the Monkie Kid had no doubt given him a boost as well.

Not to mention the knowledge that not only did he have two father figures behind him... he had four (granted, Pigsy had mixed feelings for many reasons about both of them, but he’d warmed up to them when he saw how much MK had grown attached to them). Add Sandy, Mei, and Red Son to the mix?

He had a powerful group behind him to support him in whatever he needed.

"What do you mean you're already here?" MK said suddenly, drawing Pigsy's attention back from his inner thoughts.

"Whoa, hey, I said you can’t go in there!" Tang's voice suddenly rang through the entrance as someone pushed him backwards into the shop. He stumbled, almost falling flat on his rear and just barely catching himself on the counter. "You've been banned from this establishment and you know i-"

"MK," the woman who entered said as she closed her flip phone shut with a snap.

A man entered behind her, matching her in simple modern fashion. He shared MK's hair while the woman shared his eyes. It was obvious who they were to anyone seeing the three of them together.

Tang turned, shooting Pigsy a quick sorry that was met with an easy smile and a nod before the chef scowled at the two of them.

"... mom, dad," MK replied, slipping his phone into his pocket. He stood at his full height, back straight and no sign of hesitation on his face. "I told you, I'm not coming home."

"And we told you that we realized we made a mistake," his mother said, voice soft but with a softly uncertain undertone to it. Like she didn't quote believe her own words but was convincing herself otherwise. "Please, let us make it right."

"You had plenty of time to make it right all the times I tried to contact you before I became the Monkie Kid," MK said easily, practiced and firm. "Besides, I'm an adult now. You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do."

"You may technically be an adult," MK's mother said with a sigh, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "But you’re still my child."

Pigsy jumped in front of her, a sharp glare his only weapon. He knew better than to threaten these two, much like some of his more rowdy customers, but he would still put himself bodily between the young man he viewed as a son and anyone making him uncomfortable when he had the ability to do so.

"If you so much as breathe on my kid-"

"But he's not your kid now is he, pig man," MK's father sniped back, venom dripping from ever word and making the entire restaurant freeze in response.

"Excuse me," a new voice called out from behind them, a figure pressing a firm hand on his shoulder. "What were you saying to my brother?"

The reaction was instantaneous. MK’s father jumping to the side with a yelp, turning to come face to face with a less than pleasantly smiling Sun Wukong and a scowling Macaque behind him, neither bothering to keep up any semblance of a human disguise at the moment.

"I believe my student made it clear to you multiple times that he is an adult who can make his own decisions about who he wants to live with," he said coldly, moving to stand beside Pigsy with his fur raised and teeth barred in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. It certainly wasn't one if you knew anything about monkeys, though.

"Scram," Macaque chimed in, voice lower and far more threatening than anyone else in the building as he took a step forward. Though his words were fewer his tone was stronger and held just as much weight.

MK's parents took a step back in turn, stepping back into the entryway itself.

"Y-you may be his mentor," MK's mother started, her tone losing the odd uncertainty under it and gaining a frustration and confusion instead. "But I'm his mother."

"Who left him to his own devices and didn't even try to show interest in reconnecting until he made something of himself," Macaque snapped, snapping his teeth together in a warning bite as he took another step forward with a growl.

His parents stumbled back out of the shop, eyes wide and watching as MK was surrounded on either side by 4 others. Pigsy and Tang on his right, Wukong and Macaque on his left.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a chuckle, letting out a noise of surprise when Wukong's tail touched his arm.

"I think he's got this now," Wukong said with a soft smile.

"Mom, dad," MK said with his voice still firm and sure. "I'm not coming back home with you. I'm an adult and you can't force me to come back. And if you keep trying like this I'll never give you the chance to let me chose to on my own."

The duo looked at their son, his father's eyes wide in shock and disbelief and his mother's eyes much the same with an undercurrent of... something. Something none of them could really place.

"I think we s-"

“You are not good people!" MK's dad snapped, standing up to his full height to tower over everyone else. "I caution you against this! This is your last chance to accept the damage you’ve caused! And if MK does not go back with us I will have no choice but to take further action! I will be contacting my lawyer to open a lawsuit against you and further more this will ruin your life with insurmountable debt!”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest in his assured victory as everyone else stared at him in shock and disbelief. Including his wife, who looked even more incredulous than any of them.

"D-debt?" MK eventually managed to get out, an unbelieving smile forming on his face. Before he started to laugh and march forward. "Debt? DEBT!? FUCK your debt! We'll take our chances DAD, Monkey King has a treasure trove and the best lawyer in all of China so take your debt and STUFF IT!" He raised both middle fingers toward his parents before jumping up to grab the handle of the shutter door and slam is shut before either of his parents could rush back in.

"INSURMOUNTABLE DEBT!" He yelled one last time, almost manically before sitting at a nearby table and covering his face with his hands as he burst into laughter. "I-I just- you can't threaten the Monkey King of all people with financial problems how am I related to this man!?"

The two pairs of parental figures looked at each other before laughing themselves, finding it difficult not to follow in MK's lead given how ridiculously that tense situation ended.

"You handled that pretty damn well, MK," Wukong said with proud smile as he ruffled his student’s hair.

"It's a lot easier when I know I have a bunch of dads and pops to back me up," he replied with a smile.

[reidyoulikeabook]

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

--

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

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[inviouswriting]

Apron

This will be one of my better smuts. Showing what I am capable of~

Simeon x fem!reader.

Prompting for an apron idea. This might have multiple parts.

Themes - Smut, naked apron, established relationships, size kink, overstimulation, descriptive stuff, nipple play, temperature play, all that entails to smut. An excuse to write some Simeon smut.

There is a serene quiet of the morning, you had gotten up earlier than you normally would like to. You smile to yourself as you work to get out of the dark brown arms that had you secure in them. They even grasp for you, you supply Simeon with a pillow to bury his face into. You don’t miss the finger that runs down the middle of your bare back.

“Come back... My lamb...” Groggy is Simeon’s voice as he seeks you out snaring your waist to pull you back into his arms, the pillow not sufficient enough for the angel.

“Simeon, my angel. I want to do something for you.” He succeeds in pulling you back down to him. His head pressing into the crook of your neck with happy hums of approval. Even nuzzling his cheek into yours. You almost want to give up your plans and let him have his way.

Almost. 

“A little longer please?” A simple kiss pressed along your ear, and you feel your legs hot. You steel yourself against his charm, and start to move out of his arms again.

“Simeon, please let me up? I’ll make it up to you.” You bargain with him, if you had to guess his blue eyes would be looking at you with that pout he manages. 

“Alright my lamb... I’ll be cold without you.” You look at him over your shoulder with a wink, and he lowers his eyes to your back, sheepish, you see his face lighten up with a blush on it. You reach a hand to his head and rub through his hair earning more happy hums. 

The grip on your waist lessens, and you slip out of his arms entirely. You hand him back the pillow he had shoved aside for you instead. He takes it, resting his head back on it, enjoying your scent.

You tug on a robe and leave your angel after he closes his eyes to get some more sleep. An idea was given to you by Asmodeus, to spice things up with your Celestial lover. You had made a special request the day prior for Barbatos to take care of Luke, and Solomon. Keeping the two out of the Purgatory hall for what you had in store. 

You set about making breakfast for you and Simeon. Something simple but to give you both energy. In fruit crepes and eggs. When you had finished making some of the food, you hear the quiet shuffling of Simeon’s feet, finally roused enough to find out what you were doing and what you made. You feel shy for what you were about to do.

Carefully you remove the robe you had on, and checked the ribbon for the apron holding it together in back. A light green sheer silk apron that went down to your thighs. You fiddle with the hem to make sure it is in place, you shed the last piece of clothing you had underneath in panties while tugging up stockings that went with the apron. Your face burned in embarrassment as you kept your attention on the food to not burn it.

“Lamb? This smells nice, eh!” You hear his voice hitch. You have your back to Simeon, and you turn off the stove now that the last of the food cooked. You look over your shoulder to your angel, he is more than just blushing, he even covered his face. Sometimes you wonder if he is too innocent, fitting as an angel. You almost blush more, but keep your nerve as you turn back to collect the plates.

“I hope you like what I made, I remembered something from my home world. Strawberry crepes.” You carry on non-chalant like you weren’t parading around half naked to him. You note he is shirtless but wearing his white pants. 

“Ahh... I’ll like anything made by you.” Simeon uncovers his face, and takes a deep breath getting a better look at you. You set down the plates, purposefully leaning over to allow the sides of the apron shift down to expose a breast to his eyes. He had taken a seat, and now his hands go down to his lap.

“That outfit... where did you get it? Asmodeus?” You beam at him and nod, the avatar of lust providing you ways to keep things spicy between you and Simeon. You see Simeon looking off to the side to avoid his rising problems. A devilish idea pops into your mind as you tap your angel’s shoulder getting his attention.

“Yes my lamb?” His voice sounded pained, while you two have been intimate many times, it doesn’t take much to get his attention in that area, all you have to do is look him in his eyes and he knows. With the space he creates between the table and himself, you slip onto his lap. Deliberately choosing to seat your rear on the bulge of his pants. You hear him groan at having his straining erection sat on, specially when relief for it is separated by his clothing.

“We should eat before it gets cold.” You say cheerfully, you even bring a fork up for him to take a bite. Simeon’s hands touch at your waist to shift you down to not have you seated just so on him. You only shift grinding down against him, his mouth parts and a moan slips out. You press the fork to his lips and he takes a bite of the offering. Focusing on the sweetness over his tongue, anything other than the heat of you on him like this.

You repeat this, taking bites of your own food in between forkfuls to Simeon. When he announces he is full, you lean in and give him a reassuring kiss. You are met with equal passion, even him pressing forward to you to feel softness. You indulge him, letting Simeon deepen the kiss, tongue dancing around yours, you feel bare hands slipping underneath the side of the apron to feel your skin along your inner thigh.

You taper the kiss off with tugging his bottom lip, hidden promise, he chases after your lips only to kiss your shoulder as you get up off of him.

“I should clean these~” Simeon stares at your back as you walk away from him. The angel more than just a little turned on, he needed you now. So when you return and collect more dishes, you feel Simeon grab for you much like earlier in the bedroom. Snaring you at your waist to tug you into his arms. But you are fast as you swat his hands off.

“Lamb! Please!” Simeon’s gentle voice is a hair sharper, you lock eyes with him and see how much he is desperate for your touch. You are almost merciful, but you needed to clear the table before he could even touch you.

“Patience is a virtue.” Your voice reminding him. Simeon turns his head away to hide his further blush, his hands going down to palm himself through his pants to relieve some pressure. You finish clearing the table and wipe it clear of any syrups or crumbs. 

Simeon has been watching you move about gracefully, looking away a few times that he is surprised when you nudge him to scoot his chair back so you can fit in his lap again. You loop your arms around his neck, meeting his eyes when he turns his gaze on you. He barely registered the sound of things being set onto the table, he eyes a glass of ice, but his attention is on you fully.

“I know we just ate, but would you like a little extra?” You play it up, and Simeon eyes you weary at the idea of more food, only getting it when you roll your hips forward to his own. 

“Very much... I would love extra, Please, my love, I am aching.” You are merciful on him with how his voice is pleading to you now. You lean up to kiss him full, and are met with an equal press back, almost like he is drowning for your kisses.

 You hum into the kiss distracting him with quick and small pecks. His hands at your waist tugging the apron up so his fingers could delve along your sensitive folds. He spreads them apart with two fingers while his middle dips in, Simeon parts the kiss to eye you at how wet you are. 

“Looks like someone was enjoying this too much.” Gentle rubs of his finger around your clit that you wiggle in his lap to push his hand closer. You sheepishly give him a wink only to bury your face in his shoulder when the long finger slips inside.

“You’re very warm this morning... I want to feel more.” Simeon presses kisses along your neck, following the trail of marks he left the night prior. You turn your face to press into his neck; leaving a few soft kisses of your own against it. You both bump heads gently, earning a soft scoff in your cheek when you both wanted to kiss the other’s face.

You rock your hips with Simeon’s hand when he adds another finger inside of you. Your face visibly flushes dark from feeling so hot, that you almost forgot about the ice. You squeeze your thighs to trap Simeon’s hand there, giving small movements with his fingers curling.

“Simeon? Would you kiss me please?” You request, and he happily obliges, pressing a series to your lips. Enough to distract the angel from your hands reaching behind to the glass, you pull two ice cubes from it one you hide in the palm of your left hand, the other you bring up along side your faces.

Simeon parts from the kiss when he feels cold on his cheek, the ice cube being traced from the edge of his jaw, to between your lips together. You hold an end and give him a quiet stare. The angel catches on, and meets your lips on the other end of the ice. 

You tilt your head to kiss him easier, Simeon takes the ice into his mouth and you chase after it as he draws your tongue in to dance with his. You feel his free hand move to the back of your head to hold you in place. You grind down on his hand wanting him now, but you press your left hand to the center of his back. 

Simeon jolts a bit from the sudden cold on his back, and you both break the kiss for air. You hear the ice on the table move as Simeon grabs two, and holds one in his mouth like you did. The other one he runs his palm down your arm. You sigh out and lean forward to kiss him again.

You grind more on his hand till Simeon adds a third finger, you whine into the kiss at the stretch. You feel his thumb brush your clit as Simeon nudges your legs apart to have better movement with his hand. You moan off of the kiss when his fingers press that one spot that has your legs trembling. 

You meet his blue eyes, and Simeon looks proud of himself for the sight that is only his. Your face twisted in pleasure, and eyes now pleading him like his were you earlier. You look away only for him to tilt your head back up to his, a sweet kiss pressed to your lips. Simeon withdraws his hand that had been pleasing you and you feel empty without him.

“My lamb, patience is a virtue.” He uses your words against you, and you feel him shift against you to undo his pants down enough. Simeon helps you lay back on the table, hanging your lower half towards his own as he stands. 

Pushing the chair he had been sitting in away. Simeon kneels down much to your surprise of him almost ready to take you on the table. Instead you feel him rest your legs over his shoulders, while he uses his hands to spread your folds apart. 

“You’re very wet. Do my fingers feel that good?” You almost answer him if it weren’t for the lick around your clit. You dig your heels into the center of his back to pull him closer. Simeon didn’t need to be encouraged twice before his mouth presses full to your pussy, his tongue delving between the folds to lap from opening to clit then back down.

Your nails scratch at the table, and you bite back moans as Simeon holds your legs apart from you trying to close them on him. You noticed the glass of ice missing from the table, and yelp when something cold presses along your hole. Simeon’s hot mouth catches the ice cube and draws it along your folds using his tongue to press the cube around your clit. Your legs shake; Simeon feels your heels digging into his back more when he breathes a hot breath over the path he drew with the ice.

He does this long enough to ensure you are relaxed and thoroughly soaked for him. With one last kiss to your clit, Simeon rises back up, keeping your legs apart as he sets the glass next to your side. The ice in it almost completely melted, save for a few stray cubes and water now.

“Ready for me my love?” Simeon asks, grinding his cock along your folds slicking himself. He exhales a breath feeling the slight difference between hot and cold. 

“Of course I am.. please Simeon? Love me?” A smile crosses his face as he looks at you.

“I already love you.” You wanted to shove him for being sweet and sexy at the same time. But any words you were about to say die on your tongue when he presses inside. A sharp gasp pulled from you for pushing in swift, only to still and be seated full inside. Simeon reaches his fingers into the glass for any remaining ice and presses a melting cube to the front of your chest circling a nipple, watching the already sheer material expose more of your breast.

Simeon settles into a rhythm with you, slow pull backs, with quick thrusts in. He feels good, and you enjoy his size, thick enough to be a reason for alot of foreplay, while long and curved enough that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“Love me... please love me... more.” You manage, your arms going to loop around Simeon’s neck as he buries his face into your shoulder, breathy pants against your ear. You wrap your legs around his waist at his urging, and dig your heels into his hips to pull him to yourself.

A shock of cold hits your front, you snap your attention to Simeon who smirks as he had emptied the glass of cold water on you. The angel raises up as he admires your chest fully visible to his eyes. You almost scold him about not ruining the apron, but his hands grabbing your chest to squeeze your nipples makes it hard to do anything but moan out for him.

“Simeon...” You call his name, as his pace increases, he feels like he is in a further heaven than his home in the Celestial Realm. 

“My name, lamb... say it again... please.” Your hands go to the back of his head when he lowers it down to circle a nipple with his tongue then engulfs it through the fabric to suck on it. Gently tugging with his teeth, enough that you arch off the table beneath him. 

“Simeon! Please!” You were teetering on that edge, and Simeon feels it in the way you are alot hotter and squeezing him when he thrusts in. Your nails scratch at the middle of Simeon’s back when he came up to be within your arms. His own arms working underneath you to hold you to him. 

Simeon focuses on the building pressure in his own pending orgasm, while you cling to him, yours hits you hard; your nails scratching fine lines down his back that will have the angel wearing full shirts for a bit. 

Simeon feels immense heat and tight around his cock, that makes it hard to thrust in for himself. He pushes in and you hear him moan out in pleased sighs at feeling you so tight around him that he releases inside. Simeon lays on top of you, pressing kisses to your face. You sigh content and run your fingers through his hair petting his head to earn hums of approval. 

“I love you..” You hear muffled in your neck.

“I love you too, Simeon.” You return his affections, he lifts his head to meet your stare. A kiss shared between you both. You purr into it happily. Simeon tugs you with him to sit back in the chair, you groan a little as he pulls himself free of your folds.

“You want to do more right?” You ask, Simeon’s eyes widen at your question, and you see his face pink up.

“I would love that. We still have a while before Solomon and Luke are back?” You nod.

“They’ll be back in the evening.” 

“Then let’s take advantage of our time together, it’s rare that we get such alone time.” Simeon’s voice sounds happier at the idea of spending the day with you like this.

“I knew you’d be happy.” You begin to undo the apron, wanting it off your skin. You even look at the table to see the mess of water.

“We should clean up first.” You mention.

“We will, after we make more of a mess. May I ask something?”

“Yes? Simeon?” You can see his mind working for something.

“What do you say to something sweet?” 

“I could use some sugar.” You smile up at him, and his eyes seem to shine from the idea of something more.

~~~~End Part 1~~~~~

I’ll continue this! I just want to separate sections~

[plus-size-reader]

Blood pt.4

Stiles Stilinski x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2589 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The pack finally gets to meet this mystery girl of Stiles’ but that glaring secret of theirs just keeps causing problems. 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

—————————————————————————————————

The table fell silent as you walked up to it, every single one of their attentions poised on you as if you were the most interesting thing they had ever seen in their entire lives. 

You hated it. 

For obvious reasons, werewolves made you really uncomfortable and as much as you wanted to trust that Stiles knew his friends well enough to know they weren’t going to freak out and rip you apart, you weren’t sure. 

You didn’t like them. 

Though, as Stiles became more and more aware of the fact that you were dragging your feet, his grasp on your hand tightened to help you remember that you weren’t completely alone.

“I’m going to be here the whole time, just relax” he prompted, hoping that his words were going to be enough to make you feel better about this whole thing while also knowing that wasn’t going to be. 

This was something you never wanted to do in your life, but if you wanted to live your life here, you’d have to do it. You had to find out if what he said about them was true, so that you knew that you could stay. 

It sucked. 

The only thing that made you feel any better about this situation was seeing how well your act had worked on Scott this morning. If you kept it up like that, there was a chance that they would never know what you were at all. 

Maybe you could just keep it a secret from them forever. 

You had done crazier things. 

By the time the two of you made it to the table, the entire group had shared knowing looks, shocked that the tall tale Scott had weaved about what he’d seen this morning wasn’t all one big lie. It just wasn’t something they ever thought would happen.

“Hey, there they are. I was worried you were playing hookie today” Scott grinned, addressing his words to his best friend, who only shrugged at his words. 

Not showing up at all today would have been a better idea, all things considered, but you’d have to answer the questions at some point. 

It was much better to just get it over with. 

“Could you blame me?” Stiles jokes, sitting down beside Scott at the table, taking you with him. You were stiff as you sat down, doing your best to stick in your own little bubble without drawing too much attention to yourself. 

Unfortunately, that was basically impossible given the circumstances. 

The two of them shared a laugh before Scott addressed a question to you, one that you missed completely because you were still trying to come to terms with the situation you had found yourself in. There was just too much going on at once, and you couldn’t help but be a little overwhelmed. 

You weren’t designed for this, after all. 

You should have never been afraid of anything, or had to answer to anyone but that had gone out the window when you decided to attach yourself to a teenage boy who was involved with a pack of werewolves. 

Just your luck. 

“Y/N, honey. You okay?” Stiles hummed, obviously addressing you that way for their benefit. Scott had asked you a point blank question and while he was well aware of what was going on with you, they weren’t. 

You had to get a handle on this. 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just a lot at once” you shrugged, plastering that bubbly grin on your face that made you feel as though your cheeks could crack in two at any moment. It wasn't natural for you, but as you had previously decided, it was natural for this girl Stiles was dating. 

This girl that you were pretending to be. 

“It’s okay. We’re all friends. We’re just a little shocked at the news is all” Scott allowed, smiling at you in a way that was surprisingly genuine. It wasn’t like the werewolves you remembered from all those years ago, that were made up mostly of gnashing teeth and threats of violence. 

He didn’t look like he could hurt anything, or anyone, even if he wanted to. 

“Stiles didn’t tell you, did he? He can be so goofy sometimes” you laughed, bumping the male in question with your shoulder. The action was surprisingly natural for you, and Stiles reacted naturally as well. 

Pretending to be a couple was the easiest part of this whole thing, for both of you. 

It was real life that you were struggling with. 

“I just didn’t know how” Stiles decided, moving your two hands, that were still interlocked, onto the tabletop. It was a blatant display of the relationship the two of you were supposed to share, but you didn’t mind it. 

The more they focused on the show you were putting on, the less they could pay attention to you.

“Come on. Tell us more about it, how did you two meet?” another in the group, a redhead, prompted. She had a cheery demeanor, with eyes that held an intellect that you could have seen shining there a mile away. 

She wasn’t a wolf, but she stank like one just like Stiles did, that much you could tell. Of course, she wasn’t human either, but based on what you could get from her alone, you had no clue what sort of creature she was. 

“We sort of just ran into each other, and went to get a bite” you shrugged, not even bothering to hide the clever little nod to how you really met within your answer. 

If nothing else, knowing something they didn’t made this a little more entertaining. 

It was hardly the meet-cute that Lydia had been hoping for, but that didn’t mean she didn’t accept the answer you gave her. After all, it was clear that Stiles really had a thing for you and as long as he liked you, she liked you too. 

Contrary to what you would have thought, she wasn’t as tough a critic as Scott seemed to be. He just wanted to figure out what was going on right now, 

Stiles had never once had a girl over like that, and every time he’d ever gotten close, Scott knew about it. Sometimes, Stiles stopped talking to a girl to call him in the moment and let him know that he had talked to a cute girl. 

He just had to make sure you were legit. 

That was literally his whole job as his best friend. 

“So, you go to school here Y/N? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before” he questioned, offering another comforting smile to you which you couldn't help but be a little tired of. Every time you looked at him, all you saw was your coven, torn apart and left for dead.

It was really putting a damper on this whole conversation. 

“I used to live here actually, a while ago, and now I’m moving back. I actually enrolled when I got here, but it's been a little difficult getting used to being back” you shrugged, not totally lying this time. 

Being around this many people, any number of whom could have walked in on you that day instead of Stiles, was hard to wrap your head around. You were so used to being alone; travelling alone, living alone. 

You were always alone. 

...But you had to do something, and if you wanted to stick around here for a little while, you knew that you had to build a life for yourself. 

“She’s gonna stay with me for a little bit while her folks get settled” he allowed, hoping that at some point, the intense line of questioning would come to an end. Even if you were just a girl he was seeing like they believed, this was a bit much. 

He’d never had this many questions for someone Scott was dating. 

Though, Stiles knew that it was just his friend's curiosity that was driving him. There is no malicious intent or suspicion behind it, that you would likely want to read into it later when it was just the two of you alone. 

This was just how Scott was sometimes. 

“Well, it’s good you two have each other then”

You expected more, more questions or pointed looks in your direction but the group seemed content with the backstory they had been given, at least for now. The more direct questions he had, Scott was just going to ask Stiles when they were alone. 

It would be easier that way, so that he didn’t make you super uncomfortable. 

There was definitely still something about the relationship you two shared that Scott didn’t fully understand but eventually, he came to the same conclusion that Lydia had. It was clear that the two of you liked each other, and for now, that was good enough for him. 

It had to be. 

After all, he had no reason to assume there was something wrong with you. You had only just met and deciding things like that took time. 

~

“They hate me” you decided, plopping down on Stiles’ bed as if you owned it. On the outside, your meeting them had gone fine but you just had this bad feeling about it. You hadn’t sold it hard enough, or maybe you had sold it too hard. 

In any case, it seemed clear to you that they were never going to like you. Just the way Scott looked at you told you everything you needed to know. 

They didn’t trust you, and they never would 

You were an idiot to think that you would just be accepted here, like you belonged. 

“What are you talking about? They loved you. You were great” he hummed, really not seeing where this was coming from. His friends had no reason not to like you, just like his dad was going to have no reason not to like you. 

This was all going to be just fine. 

All you had to do was trust him. 

“I’m not supposed to have to do any of this. I’ve lived lifetimes, and never had to worry about something so trivial” you grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillows and blankets of his bed, which you were still face down on. 

You didn’t want to do this, to pretend to be something you weren’t just so that you could live here but now that you were potentially in danger, you had to. 

You had to keep this up until Stiles found a way to tell Scott what you really were and even after he did, there was a chance it wouldn't go well and you'd still have to leave. There was just too much that was up in the air for you to relax. 

This wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Still, before Stiles could really get a chance to comfort you over the whole thing, your attention snapped up at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. This time, it wasn’t accompanied by the terrible stench of dog, which meant it wasn’t Scott. 

Sheriff Stilinski must have been home. 

“Okay, this dinner is going to be a lot easier than at school. You just have to let me handle it” Stiles prompted, sure that you would be able to handle that much. If you could sit at a table full of werewolves, his dad wasn’t going to be a problem. 

In fact, he had every confidence that tonight was going to go perfectly because Noah was so easy going.

Stiles was a good kid, he did as he was told and never got into too much trouble, if you didn’t count all the supernatural business. If the most he needed to do was have a girl stay at the house for a while, he doubted his dad would mind. 

It wasn’t like he was home too often anyway. 

You nodded, not bothering to tell him that you were pretty sure you’d decided to just let him handle everything from now on and stood up, doing your best to keep calm. Though, as it seemed to be doing a lot lately, something went wrong. 

You couldn’t have dinner with his dad. 

Not only did you not eat, and wouldn’t be eating but as far as food was concerned, you were also starving. You didn’t have to feed super often but with all this stress lately, your system had just blown through the little bit of blood you’d had yesterday. 

If you didn’t get something in you soon, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Um, Stiles? Did you say dinner?” you clarified, though your comment served more as another gentle reminder that you weren't’ like he was. The male seemed to keep forgetting that you weren’t human like him, and that you couldn’t do the same things. 

You had other things you needed to attend to, like the hunger gnawing at your system as you spoke. 

“Oh, yeah-okay, change of plans. I’m going to have dinner with my dad and you’re going to stay here and lay low” he suggested, not really liking the idea of leaving you out. However, that was quickly remedied by the fact that you wouldn't have wanted to partake anyway. 

As much as you had enjoyed a nice hot meal when you were human, you weren’t anymore and you preferred to get your meals from a different source. 

“That sounds great, but what am I supposed to do about my dinner?” you asked, trying to be subtle about what you were going to have to do. There were some things about harboring a vampire in your home that weren’t pretty, and this was one of them. 

...but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just starve so that he would be more comfortable. 

He had to figure something out, or else you would have a repeat of the event that got you here in the first place, and you were pretty sure he didn’t want to deal with that again. You got blood everywhere when you did that. 

Besides, keeping you fed was in his best interest, considering you live in very close quarters with him now. 

“I’ll take care of it” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead and heading out before he could even think about what it was that he’d done. His glaring feelings for you could wait, because he had something much more important to take care of first. 

Thankfully, Stiles did have an idea. 

If his best friend didn't ask too many questions, there was a way that he could get some blood for you without having to hurt, or even involve, another person. He just had to hope that Scott was willing to help him. 

It was really a long shot, at this point. 

“Hey Scott, buddy. When you get this message, I need a favor” he prompted, speaking as plainly as he could into his phone and leaving a voicemail for Scott that he could only hope the other male would get and be able to be cool about. 

After all, what he was asking wasn’t exactly a normal thing best friends asked of each other, even when one of them was a werewolf. 

It was definitely going to come with a few questions. 

Stiles just had to hope that would be lucky enough to be able to lie his way out of those. He had been doing that an awful lot lately, but in his defense, he had a promise to keep.