#just imagine being a ten year old and playing this game late at night in the dark cuz ur supposed to be asleep

[cherry-bomb-ships]

I love the fuckin game over screen in the original Crash 2. Like

The fuck you lookin crazy for!!! 😒😒😒

[mountingpulisic]

offsides (mason m.) - chapter one

summary : when miscommunication on her brother's behalf causes y/n to be unpunctual picking up her six-year-old nephew ollie, she meets chelsea's pronounced golden boy who was delightful enough to wait with him. for mason, it was love at first sight. for y/n, he was just her nephew's football coach.

word count : 2,926

fingers anxiously drummed along the steering wheel as you hummed the lyrics to the song that played on the radio. 

you were late.

but truth be told, it wasn’t even your fault for being unpunctual.  

if your older brother, charlie, had informed you twenty-four hours prior that he needed assistance picking up your six-year-old nephew oliver, you would’ve been keener on intaking more water and less tequila last night. however, he had forgotten and now you were left to endure the judgemental stares from the faculty due to your tardiness. 

glancing briefly at yourself through the rearview mirror, you came to the conclusion that not only were the staff going to be gossiping about your late arrival but your attire as well. having little time to properly get dressed after you ended the phone call with charlie, you mindlessly threw on the first articles of clothing your hands had touched on your bedroom floor, not even bothering to see if your shoes had matched as you dashed out of your flat. 

apprehensively looking up at the traffic light that has yet to turn the desired color, you begin to slightly debate if faith was against you at this given moment, if you were being punished for going out on a sunday night rather than attending church that morning. 

if you were only five minutes late picking oliver, you wouldn’t have been sweating bullets as you are now. 

if you were only ten minutes late, you figured oliver’s football coach would understand and agree that the traffic going towards stamford bridge was always a pain. 

however, you weren’t five, ten or even fifteen minutes late, you were thirty and you were having a difficult time suppressing the irritation you felt towards your older brother for not properly communicating with you. 

you knew that the benefit of the doubt should be thrown his way due to the circumstances that these past few months have brought, having gone from co-parenting to having to do it all on his own, it had been a tiring adjustment for charlie. you had offered to help as much as you can, with you being newly graduated from university you had a lot of free time on your hands. so that’s how you found yourself speeding through the streets of cobham, crying your way out of a ticket and almost forgetting to place your car in park as you flew out of the driver’s side. 

briskly walking to the entrance, you began to try to look presentable despite the pounding headache you were enduring, smoothing out your hair and tugging down your oversized shirt that barely covered your bottom half. you could just imagine the stares now, all eyes on you and your skimpy outfit. 

if you weren’t in an hastened mood to collect your nephew, you would’ve properly admired the stadium before your eyes. despite growing up in cobham all your life, you never found the time or interest in supporting your home team. football games had always been a thing between your father and brother, and then oliver was introduced when he was old enough to realize what was going on. 

if someone were to put a gun to your head and tell you to explain what offsides meant, you’d be dead. 

frantically looking around for a familiar head of curly brown hair, you were sure you looked like a deranged individual. the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach only grew when you couldn’t locate him. you could only imagine the conversation you were going to have with your brother on how you lost his only son. then at the exact moment you began to hear footsteps then the recognizable laugh that belonged to your nephew filled the air. 

turning the corner, oliver had the widest grin on his face. he showcased the small gap that remained empty due to his two missing teeth as he conversed with the unknown man beside him. you had never seen the guy that stood alongside your nephew, and you were positive you’d remembered crossing paths with someone like him.  

“ollie!” you shouted at your nephew, waving your hand above your head to grab his attention. 

oliver’s doe eyes quizzically scan the room, he turned his attention away from the man and towards the voice that called for him. you didn’t think it was possible but oliver’s smile only grew when his big brown eyes settled on your figure, forgetting all about the unknown man as his microscopic legs picked up speed and gravitated towards you. 

oliver looked as if he had just been rolling around in grass for the past two hours, hair pointed in different directions,  football kit stained with grass marks along with his cleats that were trailing dirt wherever he stepped.

“finally! i was thinking you forgot about me.” oliver joked, his practice bag being dragged behind him as he approached you. just by his facial expressions, you knew that he was judging the way you were dressed, oversized t-shirt that had spice girls plastered all over it, mismatched shoes and thick chunky sunglasses shielding your eyes from the sunlight. anyone with a brain would know you were hungover. 

“i would never forget about my favorite nephew.” 

“i’m your only nephew.” oliver counterattacked. 

“yes and that’s why you’re my favorite. "you respond as you pull him in for a hug. engulfing the scent of wet grass and sweat when you placed a soft kiss to the top of his head, your nose playfully scrunched as you softly pushed oliver away. the nostalgic smell reminded you of the afternoons in your childhood when charlie would return from practice and plant his entire body on top of yours to rub off the smell of the outdoors onto you. 

“ollie, i don’t think you can get in my car smelling like that, you reek.” 

you had your nose pinched as you tried to block the smell that was surrounding your nephew from entering your nostrils, a soft laugh escapes your lips as oliver lifts his armpit up and uses his opposite hand to childishly wave the smell towards you. 

“oLIie, i doN’t tHiNk yOu CaN gEt iN My cAr sMelLiNg lIke tHaT” he mimicked, cutely scrunching his face as he made faces to go along with his attempt of copying your voice, causing for you to pull him into so you can ruffle his curls, his sweet laughter escaping his mouth as he tried to fight you off inoffensively. 

unbeknownst to the pair of you, mason watched with awe struck eyes at the moment that was unfolding before him, a smile playing on his lips as ollie was able to break free from you, sticking out his tongue in victory.

this was mason’s first time seeing you here at stamford bridge, he was sure of it because he would’ve remembered someone with your altitude of beauty. eyes tracing over your unfamiliar features, he couldn’t help the way his heart accelerated in speed as another burst of your angelic laughter filled the room, your inviting smile brightening as you glanced down lovingly at the young child before you. 

mason couldn’t explain it but everything about you felt alluring, his eyes picked up on small details of you and made sure to engrave them in his memory so he wouldn’t forget the face of the woman before him, the exquisite face belonging to you. 

preoccupied admiring your features, he didn’t notice your hand had been stuck out trying to formally introduce yourself to him.  

“coach mason!” oliver shouted, tiny fingers tugging at mason’s forearm trying to grab his attention. 

snapping out of the trance he was in, mason painted on a smile as he extended his arm out to you, trying to be respectful as he felt his focus drift down to your bare thighs, cracking a smile when he noticed your feet had mismatching pairs of trainers on.  

“i’m sorry, mind went somewhere else right then ” he apologizes, engulfing your tiny hand into his immense one, trying not to focus on how smooth your skin felt against his callous skin or the way your sweet aroma engulfed his senses. 

“no, it’s okay, happens to all of us. i’m y/n, oliver’s aunt” you introduce yourself, flashing an oscar worthy smile at mason who mirrored you.  “thank you for keeping this geezer occupied.”

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m mason. wa-it, you alr-eady knew th-at because oliver just shouted out my name.” mason rambled, nervously laughing when you threw him an adoring look as your eyebrows furrowed together trying to piece together what he was saying. “hey but no truly it’s no problem. oliver’s a great kid, you got yourself a future chelsea star here.” mason vocalizes, a beaming smile now directed towards your nephew. 

“when he makes it big, i can only hope he doesn’t forget his favorite player and part-time coach.” 

“one of my favorite players” oliver corrects, a toothless smile making another appearance. ”i can’t choose between you and pulisic. plus kante helped me score against thiago last match, so be worried, you got competition” 

mason mocked hurt as he placed a hand to chest where his heart was, stumbling back to add the effect as if he had just been shot. the action caused a smile to return onto your face, something mason deemed as a personal victory. 

“ouch, oliver, ouch.” he jokes, sticking out his bottom lip playfully as he soothes his chest to help mend his “broken” heart. 

“favorite player?” you ask, confusion drawn across your face. “i thought you were just ollie’s football coach? you play in the premier league?”

before mason could get out a word, oliver let out a exaggerated scoff. bewildered eyes looked up at you as if you just confessed to killing the king of england. 

“you’re kidding right?! please tell me your kidding, aunt y/n! how do you not know THE mason mount? money mase?! chelsea’s golden boy? player of the year two times in a row? do you not own a television or have internet?! do you live underneath a rock?”  oliver shrieked. 

you’d never seen oliver this worked up, his tiny arms were flailing around as he went on to tell you almost every little thing about mason’s stats as a football player. mentioning his hat trick that he scored against norwich city, how he was in nineteenth place for the ballon d’or, the list went on and on. 

“okay, ollie i get it, i’m sorry.” you interject, holding up your hands defensively towards the six year old. you were sure he was going to lose his breath at any given moment from the rapid pace he was talking, chubby face turning red as he defended mason’s credibility.  

“don’t apologize to me, apologize to him.” oliver insisted, pushing you lightly towards mason causing for you to dive into the broad chest of the footballer, hands breaking your fall as you collided into him. 

“ollie!” you reprimand your nephew, removing your hands from mason’s chest as you shoot him an apologetic glance. mason’s face was a bright shade of ruby red as he tried to recompose himself from having your hands on him. “hey, well,i’m sorry for not knowing you who you were. he just referred to you as a coach so i got a little confused.” 

“no worries, oliver only calls me coach because the little menace likes to sneak his way onto the pitch and train with us from time to time, insisting that if he is going to be a striker for chelsea one day he needs to train with the legends beforehand.”

you let out a dry laugh at your nephew’s antics, surprised at the fact he was only six and already knew how to properly worm his way into a situation that would work in his favor.

“what can i say? i get it from grandpa.” oliver shrugged, a cocky smirk painted on his lips as he readjusted his practice bag onto his shoulder. “can we go now? waiting for you has only made me hungrier than i was before practice ended. these snacks they are providing us with aren’t enough for a growing boy like me.” patting his stomach as he pointed to his mouth dramatically. 

you nodded your head, you were also a little hungry yourself. not having nearly enough time to make yourself breakfast, let alone stop for something when making your way towards the bridge. 

sending mason an appreciated smile thanking him once again, you followed close behind oliver as he quickly made his way out of the building, moaning and groaning the entire time about how he could eat an entire cow and because you were moving at such a leisurely rate you’d make the two of you late for catching the breakfast window at chick-fli-a. 

“wait, y/n!.” mason had called after you, jogging up to where you had stopped when you heard your name being shouted.  

“i was thinking mm-aaybe i could ta-ke you out, i mmean i’ve n-ever s-een you aro-und here before so i o-nly assume you’re ne-w to the a-rea. i d-on’t min-d, if you do-n’t m-ind or if yo-ur b-oyfrien-d do-esn’t min-d, i just kno-w some n-ice spot arou-nd that i’d lo-ve to sho-w you.”

mason was fumbling over his words as he had your full attention on him, your soft gaze burning a hole in the middle of his forehead as he saw an intrigued smile appear on your face when you caught on to what he was asking. he could only hope he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself, he felt like it was too soon but he positive it was love at first sight when it came to seeing you for the first time. 

lips breaking into a smile, you adoringly let your head drop as another gracious laugh dripped out of your mouth. lifting back up to regain eye contact, meeting mason’s that were nervously looking at you as he fiddled with his fingers awaiting your response. 

“i’m a local, mason. i have lived here all my life” you replied back amused“ and i don’t have a boyfriend.” 

the smile you’ve grown to love in the small amount of time you’ve known mason appeared at the mention that you didn’t have a boyfriend, he tried to hide it but failed miserably since he felt like he just hit the jackpot. 

“well since you’re a local, maybe you can show me around then, any good secret spots?” mason openly flirted, closing the distance between you two to grant his internal wish to be a little closer to you. 

“well, they wouldn’t no longer be a secret would they?” you whispered

unashamedly flirting wasn’t something you did often, you usually were the one to recoil in embarrassment when an attractive guy approached you but with mason something in you was different, 

you felt bold, nonetheless, crossing bounty lines that you set long before meeting mason. his eyes spoke a thousand words that his mouth couldn’t comprend just yet, as he gazed down at you, cherishing the small freckles that were dusted across the bridge of your nose. 

“however, coach mason.” you had taken a step back at this point, creating distance between yourself and chelsea’s golden boy. “i don’t do football players, or coaches. so you’ll unfortunately have to get a different tour guide.” you confessed, crossing your arms around your chest causing your oversized t-shirt to rise a little higher on your thigh. 

trying not to draw his attention towards the skin that had been recently exposed, mason let a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you backed away.

“well what do i have to do in order to change your mind about football players and coaches?” he asked curiously, mason never felt this strongly about a person upon first glance and he wasn’t going to let you slip right through his fingertips so easily. 

“i don’t know much about football but i do know athletes are no good and i pledged to stay far from trouble since moving back home.” 

despite oliver's concerns, you didn't live underneath a rock. although you didn't keep up with football world, you did keep up with ongoing cheating accusations and drama that has aspired from females dating football players. you already felt like you had your fair share of heartbreak in your lifetime, so you were going to pass on the idea on a date with the greek god in front of you.

with that you turned on your heels as you made your way to the exit, adding a little more emphasis to your walk as you approached your nephew who was watching from the double-sided doors at your interaction with his “coach”. 

“i’m not giving up that easily, y/n. trust me when i say i am a man of my word, you’ll be going on that date with me in no time.” mason cockily shouted behind you. dismissing him off, you wave your hand behind your head as you and oliver exited stanford bridge, a gummy smile painted on your face at mason’s declared mission. mason eyes never left your figure until you were outside the doors, hanging his head down as he tried to digest the interaction he just had with you. he was hell bent on getting that date with you, whether it meant tracking you down on the streets of cobham or enlisting your nephew for help. 

mason was going to get that first date, and he was sure of it.

a/n: thank you to @mountttmase @mountpulisic @mounthings for taking the time to read my rough drafts, i couldn't thank you guys enough. this series has been so fun to write so far and i already have so many ideas i wanna bring to life for y/n and mason! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it.

taglist : @mountpulisic @alwaysclassyeagle

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 6 Halcyon

(2,480ish words taking place about 20ish years before ARR...)

“Papa! The caravan’s here!”

Rashae stood at the front of their stall, leaning over the counter to see farther down the street. Beyond her, he could indeed see the first of the wagons rolling in.

“Gather your siblings and cousins,” he said. “They’ll be weary from the trade routes and we’ll do our part to lighten their load as we welcome them in.”

Rashae nodded and dashed off. Tanzel joined the other men and women of their Cooperative in leaving his store to ensure the warehouse doors were open and the stables ready to accept the chocobos and their cargo. Friends and relatives greeted one another, separated by weeks or months since they had all left Davarresh for this trade season, plying the wares around the island, with some like Tanzel’s family coming straight to the capital.

He grinned as he saw one of the wagons belonging to the Ranaz family. “Jin!” he called, catching a glimpse of his oldest friend.

Jinrahn turned, smiling broadly to return the quick hug Tanzel gave him. “Good to see you, brother!” Jinrahn said. “It’s good to be home.”

“Until we go home to Davarresh when the wind cools. How was the road?”

“Dusty and hot, as always,” Jinrahn said. “But we’re a little lighter than normal for finishing out the season.”

“That good, eh?”

“Well, I had more charming help than usual.” Jin’s smile faltered slightly, a sympathetic tinge to it that Tanzel did not understand, until he followed his friend’s gaze to the two women wrangling the Ranaz children into some semblance of order. He knew Jinrahn’s wife, but the other woman took him a moment to recognize.

“Is that Emelia?”

“It is,” Jinrahn said. “She and her children arrived just before we left the village. That never ending war the Coerthans somehow have with their dragons—imagine!—claimed her husband.”

“I thought she’d married a farmer?”

“Aye. Something about giving succor to a soldier, some hero I guess, and got caught in the conflict. Lost their house and all. So she came home finally. She can still charm the stingiest Arkasodara grandfather into buying more than he meant, too.”

Tanzel nodded. It had been a shock to everyone when Emelia Ranaz had remained in Coerthas, having fallen in love there, after scorning the attentions of every local boy and even a few girls who had looked her way as she had blossomed from Jinrahn’s skinny little sister into a lovely maiden trained in bardsong.

Well, she was still Jinrahn’s little sister, that they had by turns teased and avoided as boys. At least until she turned and saw Tanzel, taking a moment to recognize him, and then smiling, offering a small wave.

He knew too well that particular sadness swimming in her dark blue eyes, the exact sort of tension in her shoulders.

Tanzel saw the same in his mirror every day.

-

The trade season kept the Cooperative families happily busy, another successful year passing by. Tanzel was now familiar with Emelia’s son, an energetic ten year old called Zaine, playing with the other children when not performing daily chores and light work. A helper, that one, willing to lend a hand as needed.

If he kept busy enough, he wouldn’t have to dwell on his pain, Tanzel knew, from watching his own boys.

Emelia’s daughter was a helper too, but she was quiet, and rarely left her mother’s side, unless she was with the old teacher, Shovanna. Still, Aeryn seemed like a good, hard-working child, who otherwise played or read silently, only rarely joining the other children’s games. Some folks whispered about the girl not being quite right in the head—what unhindered child made such little sound?—but everything Tanzel saw showed a bright, helpful girl, sometimes frustrated by her own silence.

He recognized the hurt in her, too. He saw it in his own daughters.

It was their last night in Radz-at-Han. In the morning—late, after tonight’s merrymaking with their neighbors and those of the Cooperative who would stay through the rainy season—most of them would make the trek up the coast to their little village, and the cycle would begin anew. Tanzel was eager to return to the quiet of Davarresh, after months in the city.

He was not so eager to join in the drinking, feasting, and dancing going on in the square outside the Cooperative’s compound. He put in a brief appearance for propriety’s sake, nursing a single drink while smiling politely and speaking to a few business partners and good friends. He soon slipped away, as had been his wont for the last few years. He just didn’t have the heart for it anymore.

As he found his excuse to return to the storehouse, he saw he wasn’t the only one.

Emelia was in one of the stalls belonging to her family, leaning on a stack of chocobo feedbags. Her hands gripped the canvas, her hunched shoulders stiff. Her long, dark hair hid her face, but he heard her sniffle. He made certain his boots made noise and she straightened, quickly swiping her face before turning with her usual dazzling smile.

“Oh. Hello, Tanzel.”

He smiled in return, but didn’t bother with his own mask. “Hello, Emelia. Not feeling up to the party?”

Her smile faltered. “I...no,” she said, letting the mask drop now. “Not really.”

Tanzel nodded. “Me neither.” He pretended to think for a moment. “Come on.”

She raised a brow. “To where?”

“Somewhere we won’t have to deal with well-meaning friends and their platitudes,” he said bluntly, but gently, heading away from the entrance and the festivities outside.

After a brief moment, he heard her light step follow after him.

He paused in his family stall long enough to grab a couple small, brown bottles from under the counter, that he had not yet packed on purpose. Then he led her to the stairs, and the winding climb up past the third story, taking her hand to help her up onto the roof.

The city glittered and gleamed around them, color and lights rioting under the starry heavens. It was a sight he could never tire of, and from the way Emelia sucked in a breath, it was one she had nearly forgotten, and had not yet taken the time to reacquaint herself with since returning home.

Tanzel and Emelia sat on the edge of the roof, opposite of the party up front, looking out over the city. He popped open one of the bottles and handed it to her, then took the other for himself. Emelia wrinkled her nose as she took a swig.

“Ugh, you and Jin still have terrible taste in booze,” she said, taking another sip.

“A man’s gotta have at least one vice,” Tanzel replied.

“Your grandfather’s favorite saying,” she said. “But he had better taste for proper liquor.” Her soft smile was genuine now, recalling those happy days of their youth.

“We can blame my uncles for being poor influences. Or your uncles. I forget.”

She laughed. Not as freely as she once might have, but genuinely, and that was good enough. “Remember when Uncle Fahr convinced you and Jin that a wish-granting djinn lived in a cave in the cliffs south of Yedlihmad?”

Tanzel chuckled. “I do, and the punishment we got for investigating—and stumbling on a nest of efts instead. You’d think that’d be punishment in itself!”

“Perhaps had something to do with leading them back to town.”

“Oh, perhaps. But you weren’t exactly a saint, either, as I recall.”

“I don’t know what you could mean.”

“That incident with the silk merchant and the fish comes to mind.”

“It was a crab, and that was a perfectly formulated plan for revenge.”

“My mistake. I do have to question your definition of ‘perfectly formulated’ though.”

“My plan was fine,” Emelia insisted with an exaggerated pout. “It was the crab and my target who were uncooperative.”

Tanzel laughed. They continued talking, recalling childhood and adolescent adventures and achievements, bright days when their futures had yet seemed limitless in possibility.

“And I remember,” Emelia said, as the contents of their respective bottles were low. “At your wedding, my brothers were so—” She stopped suddenly, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? If it was about the pranks they pulled on me just before we were to give our vows, I have it on good authority you had nothing to do with that.”

“I just,” she hesitated. “I heard what happened. And I haven’t taken the time yet…”

He leaned over and bumped her shoulder—not quite like when they were children, but in a similarly familiar manner. “It’s fine. I’ve heard the words often enough. Just like you have by now.”

She peered at him, absently batting him away, as she had done when a girl and he and her brother had pestered her like that. “Doesn’t it still...Are you…”

“Yes, it hurts,” Tanzel replied quietly. He looked out over the city again. “I’m not sure it will ever stop hurting. I might have lost myself in a pile of these bottles, if not for my children.” He smiled. “Rashae’s so much like her mother. Looks like her more and more, too.”

“Zaine looks like his father,” Emelia whispered. “And they both have his eyes.”

“Blessed reminders,” Tanzel said. “At least, that’s what everyone tells me. And on good days, I agree with them.”

“And on bad ones?” She didn’t quite look at him.

“I curse the gods for such a constant cruelty. Then I continue on, trying not to feel guilty, because what else can I do?”

He saw her bite her lip and nod ever so slightly.

“Still,” Tanzel continued, finishing his drink. “It doesn’t hurt to think of our wedding—not anymore. It’s still one of the best days of my life. Then our children were born, and those were blessed times too. At least until the little monsters started keeping us up all night,” he joked.

She chuckled, and he again took it as a victory. “At least you had family with you.”

“That did help.” He frowned. “Did he not?”

She shook her head. “His mother disapproved of me. So we settled in a village where he had friends, and...we did have good neighbors, who helped.”

“Fool woman, to not know what a gem of a daughter-in-law she had,” Tanzel sniffed.

“Thought I was Jin’s bratty little sister.”

“I never said you weren’t still that, too.” He bumped her again. She smiled wanly and shook her head. “You were happy though, weren’t you, Emelia?”

Her face crumpled. “Mostly. I loved him enough to stay in that cold, colorless land—I wanted to come home for years, but he didn’t want to leave, and now...” She leaned forward, face in her hands.

Tanzel rubbed her back for a time, letting her crying, saying nothing. Eventually she calmed, taking a shaky breath, and accepting his handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose.

“Tell me about Coerthas,” he finally said. “It can’t have been all terrible, if you stayed for so long.”

“It’s all...tangled up in memories of him.”

“Of course it is. But the good outweighs the bad, doesn’t it?” As she considered that, he continued. “That wretched moment cannot overshadow all the time proceeding it. It’s a disservice to them and the joy they brought us. The children they left with us. The only thing that comes close to helping is remembering the times we laughed and loved. That one terrible day can’t take away the rest.”

They were silent for a long while.

“It had its own beauty,” Emelia finally said, voice hushed. “More stark, the mountains swooping over the vales. In Springtime suddenly the fields would go from gray and brown to a lush green and the flowers would bloom like rainbows fallen from the sky. We’d walk along the sheep paths and deer tracks…”

He listened, as she described the idyllic life of a Coerthan farm family—not that they hadn’t known hardship, and he understood her sighing about little Aeryn going through clothes and shoes like water, his Rashae was too similar—but what began in fits and starts soon fell into familiar bardic story rhythms as she told stories until they were both laughing over her children’s antics, her neighbors’ strange foreign actions, and her happier memories of her husband.

The bells chimed thrice, startling them both. The sounds of the party up front had long since faded, though there were still a few revelers wearily talking and stumbling themselves and others to bed. Tanzel stood and stretched, offering Emelia a hand up. She took it, and continued in to give him a tight hug. He returned it, and they stood like that for a long moment.

“Thank you, Tan,” she said, still leaning on him. “I wish...I wish you didn’t understand. But I’m,” she hesitated again.

“But I do. And I’m here, when you need to talk. Or just get away from others who say things, without knowing it how we do.”

She nodded against his chest, then, with a deep exhale, stepped away. “Shovanna said she’d stay with the children, and they should all three be asleep, but I ought to check on them.”

“Mine were probably up too late and getting into mischief until their grandmothers caught them,” Tanzel said. “I’ll get an earful in the morning.”

“So you’ll do as when we were children, and you and Jin used to blame me to try to keep out of trouble.”

“Ah, you’ve caught on to my dastardly plan.”

“Next time, consult someone whose plans are perfect,” she said, affecting a haughty sniff.

“If I find someone like that, I’ll let you know,” he replied, laughing as she bapped his arm.

He helped her off the roof and into the stairwell, and they made their way down in the dark, still joking. They parted at the base, he heading to his family quarters, Emelia to her family’s. He glanced back before stepping inside. She had also stopped, and waved to him.

Tanzel returned the wave before Emelia vanished behind the door. He felt better than he had in awhile. If this pain he carried, and how he was learning to live with it, could help his childhood friend...well, it was far from worth it, but it was something useful, at least. Maybe.

He wished it hadn’t taken this sort of wretched circumstance to reunite them. To make her more than Jin’s bratty little sister, but someone who understood, and needed to be understood herself.

Tanzel shook his head, disposed of the bottles, and continued on to bed. Morning would come too soon and a lot of work with it.

He dreamed of his favorite days with his wife, and then of youthful days playfully teasing his friend’s little sister.

[muzaktomyears]

John Lennon by his friends and son: ‘He got eight years more than Jesus’

The former Beatle would have been turning 84 this autumn. Now his son Sean and those who knew him best are keeping his spirit alive with the rerelease of his classic solo album Mind Games

Everyone wonders what John Lennon could have become. When he was murdered in New York on December 8, 1980, the 40-year-old was in his post-Beatles prime. The superb album Double Fantasy had just come out and he was plotting a world tour. His second son, Sean, whom he took time off to bring up with his wife, Yoko Ono, was five, and Lennon was feeling inspired. Seven solo records since the Beatles had split ten years earlier; a reconciliation with Paul McCartney.

“Everyone gets the time they get, and he got eight years longer than Jesus,” says Bob Gruen, the rock’n’roll legend who took photographs of everyone who mattered in the 1970s. He captured Lennon and Ono’s time in New York and is confident and chatty — until conversation turns to what Mark Chapman took outside the Dakota that day.

“John should be alive now,” Gruen says, clearly still affected 44 years on. Gruen had spent the weekend with Lennon before he died and was developing his photos when he got the call. “He didn’t die in an accident or of a disease. His death broke my trust in everything. He was grounded at the time. He learnt a lot from raising his son, about enjoying his life and being sober. Then I heard he was dead.”

Lennon would have been 84 in October — and at least we are left with his songs. But legacy is complicated. Over the years McCartney has stolen his crown as chief creative in the Beatles. Partly because Lennon is no longer here to speak. Also because, during Peter Jackson’s 2021 film, Get Back, Lennon was largely stoned, while the charismatic McCartney conjured up magic. So to redress the balance, this month’s innovative rerelease of Lennon’s Mind Games (1973) pushes design and immersion in ways few box sets have before. It features new mixes — some that amplify Lennon’s voice, others that emphasise the instruments.

It is the work of Sean, 48, who has been at the forefront of the Mind Games rerelease. Lennon’s younger son is a musician and artist based in New York near his mother, 91. “The title track is one of the most beautiful songs ever written,” he says.

The songs answer questions Sean never got to ask his father. Despite being very young when his father was around, Sean does have memories of him — talking, watching TV, playing guitar and saying, “Good night, Sean.” The song Aisumasen (I’m Sorry) on the record is an apology from Lennon to Ono.

“One thing that distinguishes my dad’s solo career,” Sean says, “is how personal his lyrics became. It is like a diary, and it is my duty to bring attention to my father’s music. Not just my duty to him, but a duty to the world. With the world as it is now, people have forgotten so many things that I never imagined could be forgotten. I refuse to let that happen to this music — it means too much to me.”

Two years before Mind Games came out, Lennon moved to New York and met Gruen. Living in New York was simpler for him and Ono. They were hounded in Britain. “One paper called Yoko ugly,” Gruen recalls. “But in New York they were just treated as the quirky artists who came to town.”

Gruen’s eyes light up. “He was just funnier than everyone else,” he says. “I’d have loved him on Twitter, he was so cool with one-liners.” He smiles. “And, also, he learnt to cook. I’d always try to go to the Dakota for mealtimes.” What sort of food? “John used to be a meat and potatoes guy, but he met [the actress] Gloria Swanson in the vegetable store and she gave him a book that acted as a way into a macrobiotic diet from a western one. He got really into healthy food, baking vegetables and steaming fish.”

And this is the frustration. In the late 1970s Lennon was cleaning up his act. For himself, for Sean — a son he was involved with, as opposed to his first child, Julian. He had changed, from the man who went on his fabled “Lost Weekend” in Los Angeles in 1973. The weekend actually ran for months, during which Lennon left Ono, on Ono’s suggestion, for their assistant, May Pang, then 23. After Lennon went back to Ono, Pang carried on in the music business and married the producer Tony Visconti, but the Lost Weekend era remains her headline. During that time Lennon enjoyed chaotic recording sessions with Phil Spector. “I wondered if he’d ever make it back to New York,” Gruen says. “I thought he might get a place in Hawaii, or just die.” But Lennon returned in 1974, for his final six years.

What does Gruen think about how Lennon is remembered? Especially in Get Back? “Well, who’s the last one standing?” Gruen scoffs. “Who gets to write the history? The survivors get to write the history. That’s the way it goes.”

Tony King was the vice-president of Apple Records at the time of Lennon’s Lost Weekend. “We’re here to talk about my friend,” he tells me sweetly. King was out in Los Angeles working on a Ringo album when Pang phoned to say that Lennon needed help with his Mind Games record.

“I wasn’t looking forward to it,” King admits. “John could be sharp-tongued. But, in LA, he was super-friendly. I was straightforward. I told him he had to repair his reputation. After Imagine [1971] he’d gone in a different direction, making songs with a political edge. It was quite easy for John to get caught up in things. He had this tendency to see someone, decide he loved them and then go in their direction. I was lucky he went in my direction for a while. He realised he had lost some fans. Mind Games was more what people wanted.” Its songs were simpler and less political.

Personally, however, Lennon was in turmoil. “May on one arm, Yoko on the other!” King says. “He was juggling a lot.” Did Lennon talk about McCartney? “They were not getting along, but he was still fond of him,” King recalls. And what about that Lost Weekend era? “He was off the walls, to be honest.

“We went to Las Vegas and John interrupted Frankie Valli during a show, saying, ‘Get your cock out!’ We got thrown out and on the way back to the hotel he was pissing up against trees and then throwing his chips around the lobby. I put him to bed. It was difficult when he drank. John had taken way too much acid and so when he drank it flipped him into another style of person. One day it was great, the next it was very hard.”

King remembers the night his friend died clearly. “I was out at dinner in LA and the waiter said, ‘He’s dead.’ I returned to a very lonely, sad hotel room.” Does he ever think about what Lennon might have achieved later in his life? “Elton and I talk about John,” King says. He means Elton John. “We say, ‘I wonder what he’d be up to?’ Well, he’d have pounced on the internet and got into AI. And he’d still campaign. I could see him hopping on a plane to see Zelensky. He was a busy person, with an arresting personality. You’re never going to forget him.”

The Mind Games reissue is a beast, a lavish celebration of a fine, melodic rush of songs. Bonuses include the Ultimate Mixes, which bring Lennon’s voice to the fore; Raw Studio Mixes; there is a Super Deluxe Edition “presented in a 13in cube”; puzzles; and even an experience on the free Lumenate app that is described as a “consciousness-expanding psychedelic meditation” and uses the phone’s torch and Lennon’s tunes to guide users into “a state of consciousness between deep meditation and psychedelics”.

We are a long way from 1973 — when the session musicians David Spinozza, on guitar, and Ken Ascher, on keyboards, were asked to play on Mind Games. They recall the recording as efficient — Lennon left his partying for later. He was in a creative peak, with Mind Games his fourth album in three years since the Beatles.

“He was a Beatle!” Ascher says. “I was thrilled to get the call. Yoko told me, around 10pm, that John would like to meet. I called my wife and said, ‘I’m not coming home — I’m meeting John.’ He played me music he liked, and we talked for hours. His humour helped me relax.”

Spinozza worked with Lennon and McCartney in the 1970s. How did the men compare? “Paul would do one song for six hours, even for a day,” he says. “With John we never worked on one song for six hours. He worked quick — he was all business. I’m not saying one was better than the other, but Paul could work on a drum sound for hours. John just wanted to get it done.”

How does Sean feel about his parents, looking back? “Their story is a love story,” he says. “They found each other across a great divide and certainly struggled through ups and downs, but never doubted their love. It is important we remember them as an example. Even through rough patches you can see my father thought about my mother. They were simply, irrevocably intertwined.”

Lovely words — and as for John Lennon himself? “Generally it’s whatever comes out, like diarrhoea,” he once said of his recordings. “A bit personal, a bit political — someone told me Mind Games was Imagine with balls, which I liked. It was like an interim record between being a manic political lunatic back to a musician again.”

Speaking in the early 1970s, after a decade of super-fame, he said he did not feel different to how he had before. “I’m still a bit adolescent,” he said in one of his final interviews. “My old friends from Liverpool got jobs after school. I’d see them six months later and their hair would be thin and they’d be getting fat. They were becoming old men — while I just keep going.”

(source)

[stellatravers]

ID. STELLA BEATRIX TRAVERS. AGE.  TWENTY FIVE. RESIDENTIAL AREA.  SOUTHSIDE VILLAGE. HOMETOWN.  SIESTA KEY NATIVE. JOB.  CASHIER AT DAVE’S RECORD SHOP. FACECLAIM.  KAIA GERBER

late-night surf & skate sessions, the scent of spray paint and cigarettes, torn stockings & combat boots, vinyl collection, video games, dinosaur nuggets covered in “bloody” ketchup, tired eyes,   uncertain paths, wasting time on youtube, living in the shadows, feeling out of place, driving fast, blasting music late at night, neon signs,   tattoos, the smell of perfume masking marijuana.

biography.

Growing up was very unusual for Stella, to say the least. For a while, she was convinced her brother was actually her father. Despite there only being a ten-year difference in age, she didn’t know any better. He was the only person raising her. Memories of her parents are blurry; if not totally made up in her head. The human mind is powerful enough to have imagined being cared for by anyone other than her brother. The only thing she knows for sure is that her parents were hippies and never around. When she was old enough, she learned through her brother that their father was imprisoned for child endangerment among other charges. He apparently left his stash of mushrooms out and baby Stella got into the bag and almost swallowed them. If it weren’t for her brother’s quick reflexes, who knows if she would still be alive. She’ll always be grateful to him that he took such good care of her at such an early age.

After their father was arrested, their mother ran off with some lover boy to continue her life as a free spirit. Stella believes she’s a little bit of a flower child herself. She loves the rain and sunshine and can spend all day and night outdoors with the earth. She also works in a record shop and has taken to old 70s and 80s bands like The Doors and Sublime. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t inherit some of her brother’s thorns. She experiences rage blackouts and carries around a switchblade everywhere she goes. Dante gave it to her as a birthday gift when she turned sixteen after an ex-boyfriend tried to assault her inside his car. She’s not much for relationships anymore but loves making out with people - mostly her girlfriends. For years, she thought it was just a matter of fun, but she’s since come to terms with her bisexuality. She doesn’t openly talk about it, but a lot of her friends already know.

Currently, she’s what you would consider homeless. For the past year, she’s been couch-surfing, hopping from one friend’s house to the next. Prior to this, she was living with her brother but moved out on her own. He never asked her to leave. She just thought it would be better if they had their privacy. She was also a little tired of hearing him talk to her like a parent. They were older now, she didn’t want to be watched over and given rules to abide by. Especially when she knows he’s not following any rules himself. Her rebellious nature is an exact correlation to that. She’s become wild and crazy because he’s wild and crazy. But she’s also very nurturing and loves to cook for him and take care of him too whenever she’s given the chance. Not just because she owes him, but because he’s the most important person she has in her life.

about.

Living: Stella is currently couch-hopping between friends. Before that, she was living with her older brother Dante. He didn’t kick her out or anything like that. She just wanted to give them both more space. It’s been a year.

Profession: She’s currently working behind the cash register at Dave’s Record Shop. She loves music, mostly old-school rock, but can’t play any instruments herself. However, that doesn’t stop her from singing during long car drives and hot showers.

Interests:  She loves surfing (her brother taught her everything she knows), skateboarding, spray painting, 80s slasher movies, and parties.  

Relationship: Single and bisexual. For as long as she can remember she’s been attracted to both sexes, but more recently she’s come to terms with her sexuality. Making out with her friends wasn’t just for fun, she actually likes girls too.

Challenge: Growing up and moving forward with her life. She’s always relied on other people, and she’s still doing that now. She’s coasting through life instead of trying to put down roots and build a future. She doesn’t like planning ahead. Her life is in the present and figures, whatever happens, happens.

Personality: She’s very guarded, but also very fun. Her upbringing was unusual, to say the least. For years she thought her brother was her father. They’re only ten years apart, but what did she know? He was the only person taking care of her since … birth. Her parents were hippies and never around and any memories of them are blurry or probably made up. She knows (from her brother) that her dad went to jail and she almost died when she got into his drug stash. Her mother took off with some lover boy and that was the last they saw of her. Stella was only four. Because her brother had so much responsibility at such a young age, he was more of a friend than a parent. They would surf, play video games, eat dinosaur nuggets with lots of ketchup and pretend it was blood. He made her life an adventure and she still likes to live it that way even at 25.

[causeimhappinesss]

Warm me up, Captain - Chris Redfield (smut)

Pairing: Chris Redfield x reader

Warnings: smut + wrap your biscuit, please + slight spoilers (RE village) I guess?

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for ten fucking years, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

***

"I'm so sick of this shit..." you sighed. You knew you couldn't give up on your efforts so easily, let alone so close to the goal. You had to find Ethan first to stop him from doing anything and no matter how many times you begged Chris to tell him the truth because Winters was known for never giving up, he refused to listen to you. What a stubborn man!

You chattered your teeth, it was so cold, much colder than you imagined in the Carpathians, in Romania. Although you were wrapped up in relatively warm winter clothes, it didn't change the fact that the snow and the freezing wind in the middle of the night made it difficult for you to move forward. Shivers kept running through your body. The only thing that kept you from being totally frozen was the activity, the running, the eliminating of enemies; it warmed you up.

"You look freezing... Are you going to be okay? "

"Yes, Captain. "

You had joined his team for good reason and you had fought to be one of the best, you didn't intend to let your fragility faced with temperatures get the better of you. When you entered Heisenberg's factory, that crazy German or Austrian guy, you quickly encountered enemies to take down and soon you found yourself running through this creepy place from the first to the last level... During the operation, the team members scattered, looking for the master of the place and possibly Miranda. Arriving at the fifth level, Chris and you decided to take a break and examine the tank at your disposal... Taking advantage of the calm and the refuge that the place offered for the moment, immersed in the darkness, you rubbed your arms in reaction to the shivers that ran down your spine.

"I'm going to look around, to see if there's anything interesting. " you indicated, in a solemn voice, in order to scan the place with your eyes. Then you started to look around, in case you find a weapon, ammunition, a grenade or something else. Why not find a new lead, which would allow you to meet your objectives much faster.

"A cartridge! "you exclaimed with a thin smile. You bent down to pick up the bullets and put them away, aware that you would need them. It wasn't out of the question that you might run out at some point.

Chris studying the tank, ready to call your name, turned and froze when his gaze lingered on your ass. Suddenly he felt hot and couldn't rest his gaze on that part of your body. You hadn't known each other for months, the situation was horrible and complicated, but he was an older man with good taste in women. He had always thought you were beautiful and you were in front of him, in an exciting position. He wished he could stroke your curves, fuck you here and hear your moans, even though it wasn't safe to do it here... Why was he imagining all this? Now? He wasn't a twenty year old with raging hormones anymore! While fantasizing about you for less than a minute, he felt his cock harden in his black pants.

"Shit..." he swore into his beard as he looked down at his nearly invisible boner before feeling himself. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to scroll through the most sickening images before his eyes that his brain could produce. His erection didn’t subside. When he opened his eyes, he swiveled slightly to the side, you had stood up and turned your beautiful and cute face towards him.

Without noticing his crotch problem thanks to the dim light and his dark pants, you moved closer to him, still rubbing your arms. It didn't escape his gaze and instinctively, he helped you to warm up with these frictions, much more efficient than you with his thick and chalky hands.

"T-Thank you, Captain..." you stammered, as your cheeks flushed with the closeness. You had always been attracted to Redfield, from the first time you saw him and talked to him. You liked everything about him: his kindness, his open-mindedness, his grumpy and stubborn side, his authority... Your face so close to his muscular chest, his hands on your arms, you dreamed of a simple hug, but you couldn't afford it... He was your superior! Suddenly, a bang and a shake from below pulled you out of your little bubble moment. You clung to his biceps, bumped into his chest and your lower abdomen pressed against his erection.

Your cheekbones flushed even more, if that's possible. You weren't that naive, you knew you were the reason for his erection. Your heart missed a beat. Your whole body was on fire. You had wanted Chris... for a long time. Some nights you dreamed of him, of him fucking you so hard. He was completely your type, even though you were in the middle of a major operation, you needed to kiss him, to enjoy the moment. Your breath quickened and you both stood up, bewildered

"I'm sorry, Y/N...” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

Too late to apologize, you wanted him to do everything you'd been dreaming of for months... Fuck you to the point you forget your own name.

"Kiss me." You cut him off, nervously. Was it right? No one could judge you at the time, but morally... You were a little confused. After all, he was your captain, your leader!

Without hesitation, Chris framed your face between his two thick, stubby hands. He pressed his lips to yours for a passionate kiss. One of his hands slid to your waist as your tongues danced wildly. It didn't feel wrong. You were ecstatic. It was as if you had known him for years and trusted him with your heart. Desire... Something that was hard to avoid. Hands everywhere, seeking body heat, discovering a new body. You admired his toned chest, tracing his abs and smooth skin with your fingertips, sensually.

It was a dangerous game to embark on a quick fuck, in such a place, that day, but you needed this. You couldn't imagine what was going to happen in the next few hours and you reminded yourself that life was short, especially these days... As much as possible, you needed to enjoy this sweet, sexual moment.

In a few moments, he ran his fingers over your body, pulled up your sweater, pulled down your bra to reveal your breasts, which he enjoyed titillating and kissing with fervor. Shivers ran through your whole body. Your pussy was getting wet and your wetness was sticking to the fabric of your panties. He got rid of your pants, while you opened his, lowered them, along with his boxers. With joy, you discovered a large and long veiny penis, reddish, twitching with desire. His kisses and embraces warmed your skin, feeling his lips brush against your chest, a teasing look on his face, to excite you like you'd never been before.

"Captain... Warm me up... I'm freezing..." you whispered in the hollow of his ear, mischievously.

His thumb traveled to your warm, wet center, between your thighs, before he gets ride of your panties. As he tickled your most sensitive part, you closed your eyes and a soft moan escaped your lips. He was experienced, that was obvious. He varied the pressure and movements on your clit to bring you up to cloud nine. His expert fingers plunged into your warmth, coming to tickle your oh-so-sensitive vaginal walls, while you craved his huge cock. You were trembling and exuding desire. You bit your lower lip to avoid being loud, at the same time you felt your first orgasm rising and before you could reach it, he stopped his movements. You opened your eyelids and came to caress his erect, hard member, its red head, covered with precum... You salivated with impatience. You made some movements of back and forth with your hand and if you dreamed to suck him, to make him beg you to make him cum, you knew that you didn't have much time, but you kissed the tip. Sighs of pleasure, almost inaudible, passed the barrier of his lips, as he threw his head back.

"Let me warm you up, Y/N..."

Finally, he stopped you in your tracks and with a simple gesture, you jumped. Your legs were wrapped around his pelvis as he supported you by your buttocks. With your back pressed against the wall behind you, you couldn't move as he was about to lead the way. The head of his pinkish cock titillated your wet, hot entrance, which begged him to take you. He knew how to drive you crazy, to the point where you dreamed of forcing him to impale you. Seeming to guess in your thoughts, to read in your eyes veiled with desire, he was in you with a single thrust.

"Oh fuck..." he moaned. You whined slightly together at the sensation. He let you adjust to his size before he began to move back and forth. The faster and more intense his thrusts were, the more you struggled to stay quiet. With one hand, he pressed his hand against your mouth as you tightened your legs around his hips, one hand on his buttocks to push his member further into you while the other played with his hair. You were drunk with love, with sex.

“Faster… Harder…” you wanted to say.

He quickened the pace, so much so that the pleasure became intense. Raucous moans escaped from his lips as you sobbed against his hand. You were gradually approaching orgasm, both at the same pace... At that moment, we could just hear your skins snapping, your faint moans, and the sound of your juices.

"You feel so good... So tight…" he whispered.

As your vagina tightened around his member during your orgasm, he lost control of his rhythm, he pounded into you brutally and it didn't take him long to ride his own orgasm. The feeling of intense well-being and euphoria took hold of him, letting his hot cum pour into your clenching pussy, filling you completely. Gradually, his movements stopped, although he was still supporting you... He finally withdrew, as droplets of his semen flowed from your orifice, reddened, until then martyred by his cock. A smile of satisfaction and euphoria stretched his lips.

"We should do this again when we leave this fucking village. " he annouced while sending you a wink.

***

Instagram (writer) : @carolinemertz_ 

AO3 : maybe one day? Still waiting to create an account aha

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[jungkxook]

—amortentia.

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: hogwarts/harry potter au / enemies-to-lovers + fluff

⟶ words: 5,486

⟶ rating: pg-13

⟶ summary: jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him — until a love potion outs him.

⟶ disclaimer: this is a repost of an old fic from my old blog since i know some of you were asking about it! i hope you enjoy!!

Jungkook loves strawberries.

He remembers fondly the warm summers as a child when he would go strawberry picking with his grandmother, and revels in the taste and the memory each time he bites into a fresh berry, the juices coating his tongue in sickly sweetness; he likes the smell of all the lotions and lip balms, candles and fragrances, that carried notes of the red fruit in comforting wafts, remembering distantly a time when his mother’s fruity perfume would breathe warm life into his cold house in the middle of a dull winter; he remembers sentimental times spent at the local cafe near his home, loving and basking in the way the homely and warm aroma of a freshly baked pie and the sugary tartness of strawberry lemonade would fill his nostrils and consume his senses, leaving his mouth watering. 

Jungkook loves everything strawberry but the simple pleasure is always kept hidden, stowed away as if some hideous secret to protect the rumours that had built up around him.

Ask any girl that thought Jeon Jungkook is handsome or any boy that thought Jungkook is a god and they would say he smells like the purest form of any man with a harmonious scent of musk, cedar wood, and oak; like fresh rain that soaked in the middle of a mossy forest, spices, and black coffee — but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Maybe he did smell of musk or wood or rain when he was continuously outside, practicing every moment he had with his Quidditch team, but Jungkook was more than just that. Really, though, it made sense as to why people thought that way about him when he had left such a lingering impression on the school.

You can still remember the very first day you saw him; the very moment you had, from your spot in line in front of the Sorting Hat on the first day as a first year, saw the stoic boy step forward. Made up of a nervous face and obsidian locks that fell into his equally dark eyes, the Hat had instantly deemed the boy a Ravenclaw — and perhaps the house’s reputation was what added to his mystique and strange charm. Even then, from what you observed, he had been a silent boy, making his way to and from classes usually alone, and somehow ignoring the gaggle of girls (from all years and from all houses) that trailed along behind him, giggling and clamouring over how cute he is.

As the months went on, you never witnessed much change in Jungkook safe for the friends he suddenly made in the first half of second year (a surprising mix of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins) and the smug attitude he began to develop. A rebel, they said, a bad boy at heart, the very antithesis of Ravenclaws. Someone all the girls craved for and all the boys yearned to be. And while you tried to assume that perhaps there was more to the boy than meets the eye — that maybe he was built on different layers you could one day explore — when he begins to become too conceited with the way he is praised, you grow disenchanted by him and his cocky smirks. Yet, for some reason, he finds it necessary to go out of his way to talk to you no matter what — and you were quick to learn to despise him and his constant mocking, all possibilities of trying to get to know him diffused. 

In first year, you had to endure a whole semester worth of Jungkook tugging at your hair when he sat behind you in Charms class. In second year, an unspoken rivalry began in which the two of you would compete to see who could earn the better grades. You can’t quite pinpoint when or where the hatred for one another began, but the irritation that comes as a result of it only grows more adamant with each passing day.  

In third year, you distinctly remember being confined to the many dusty oak shelves and rows of leather bound books in the library, your eyes constantly flickering to the ornate grandfather clock nearby you as you wait alone. An agreed time of 6 pm to meet in the library after dinner to work on a partnered assignment had otherwise vanished from the boy’s memory. Had it been up to you to decide what partner you wanted, you would have much rather preferred to pick one of your friends and not the Ravenclaw who was fifteen minutes late. With the project due in two days, and with the nearly three weeks you had to finish it, you had constantly asked to meet with Jungkook to work on it and each time he had made a different excuse. 

As time crept on and the waning hours of the daylight dwindled to a dull darkness, twenty minutes would pass and it was then that you would grudgingly begin packing your belongings. The wait was not worth the trouble. Yet just as you are standing from your seat, the boy waltzes into view, coming to a nonchalant halt in front of you and placing his bag on the table, as if he didn’t know how late he is. He has abandoned his robe to wear only a grey fleece pullover on top of his white button up, his torn up Converse shoes ruining the uniform outfit with his casual flare. Your stare flickers up to meet his smug face and a frown forms on yours as you spot the other third year Slytherin girl giggling a flirtatious goodbye to the boy who winks in response. Finally, he turns to look at you.

“You’re leaving already?” Jungkook asks. “I just got here.”

“Twenty minutes later, Jeon,” You snap.

The boy quirks a brow, twisting around in his spot to look at the clock. “I could have sworn you said we should meet at six-thirty. I’m ten minutes early.”

“I remember saying six o’clock,” You say. “As well as you telling me that six was perfectly fine. Look, History of Magic isn’t my favourite either but I would appreciate it if you at least put some effort into the class and this project.”

“Shh!”

The hiss that comes from the student studying near you only makes you scowl. You turn around hotly to continue shoving your books and papers into your backpack.

“I was busy,” Jungkook says.

“Busy flirting with every living thing?” You asks.

“What?” Confusion paints his face, and then he is shaking his head furiously. “No!”

Your eyes narrow into a scrutinizing glare. You point over your shoulder at the same Slytherin girl who is still within the library, standing just a few feet away from the pair of you. She has an opened book in her hands in an attempt to look distracted but her eyes are fixated solely on Jungkook. When she catches Jungkook staring, his gaze lifting over your shoulder, she hurriedly looks away and blushes.

“So I assume she’s just a friend?” You retaliate. “You know what your problem is, Jeon? You never take anything seriously.”

Immediately, Jungkook tenses. His arms snake around to cross in front of his chest.

“Well, you take everything too seriously,” he says. “When was the last time you had some fun? Any time I talk to you, you’re always fussing about the work or about how much you hate me—  it’s like you’re a walking, talking, breathing dementor! You suck the life out of everyone.”

“Shh!”

The snarl this time is much harsher, coming from yet another student who has been devoting his time to writing an essay. But now you can’t be bothered to worry about silence. You slam shut the book in your hand with a very loud thump that seems to echo around the eerily silent room and fling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry that I, and this assignment, are such inconveniences to you,” You say, “but from now on I give up on making sure we both don’t fail this class. If you need me, which I assume you won’t, I’ll be in my room, far from you.”

“Excuse me!” The familiar bark of the librarian’s voice hardly makes you jump even as she comes marching down to the two of you. “This is a library, a quiet place to study. It would be greatly appreciated if you could bring your conversation out into the halls.”

Had she not interrupted your conversation with Jungkook, you would have never realized just how loud your voice had risen. Clearing your throat and tightening your grip on your bag and the book, you tear your eyes from Jungkook and stomp defiantly out into the corridors to retreat to your common room, leaving Jungkook alone. He would find you the day after in a sluggish state, his hair dishevelled and his clothes askew as if he had slept in them — or, rather, had not slept at all — showing you all the work he had finished for the assignment the night before.

In fourth year, you are leaving the stands of the Quidditch pitch on a surprisingly warm November evening. Following the slew of students back to the school after a heated game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor — where the latter team won after a fiery race between the two Seekers for the golden snitch — the eager chatter buzzes in the air. Beside you are your two friends who are, just as many others are doing, whispering excitedly about Jungkook’s role as Seeker and his “amazing performance.” 

“Did you see the way Jungkook played?” Hana asks from the right side of you. “How can someone be so attractive?”

To your left, Nayeon is practically standing on the tip of her toes, desperately craning her neck to search the crowd for the boy and his friends. “Oooh, look! There he is! He’s so sweaty! Imagine his muscles—”

“You’re ridiculous,” You sigh with a disapproving shake of your head.

Despite your condescending tone, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to follow your friends’ gaze. Laughing in triumph with his team and friends, Jungkook stands adorned in the usual Ravenclaw royal blue Quidditch uniform, the robes somehow accentuating his tanned skin and dark hair that clings to his sweat-covered forehead. Since when had he grown so tall? And maybe Nayeon was right — since when did Jungkook start looking so muscular? 

“Your staring is obvious, Y/N,” Hana says. 

“And so is your crush on him,” Nayeon murmurs. 

“Crush?” You burst out into laughter. “Now that’s funny. I could never have a crush on him!”

“Have a crush on who?”

The familiar voice makes you groan inwardly and the arm that is tossed around your neck almost makes you gag. Your body grows rigid under Jungkook’s touch, though he doesn’t seem to notice that or the way you carefully try to peel his arm off of you but to no avail. Joining him is his typical duo of friends. The other Slytherin boy next to Jungkook is the shy and soft Park Jimin, accompanied by their inseparable Hufflepuff friend, Kim Taehyung. The two boys smirk wolfishly down at your friends, both of whom are so suddenly at a loss for words.

“Evenin’, ladies!” Jimin says. “Enjoy the show?”

“We hate to brag but we taught him everything he knows,” Taehyung says, ruffling Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and swats Taehyung’s hand away. “Maybe the three of you can come down to watch us practice one day.” 

Your friends exchange glances and giggle nervously. 

“We’d love to,” Nayeon smiles.

Your lack of response clearly doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, nor Jungkook and his friends. As you turn your head to look away from the group, you briefly catch the sudden scent that is Jungkook and your face scrunches. It isn’t so much as gross as it is overpowering. Passed salt and sweat, you can smell something clean like freshly cut grass or some sort of lemongrass shampoo. But instead of telling him out loud what you thought, you pushed him away.

“You smell terrible,” You said. “Go take a shower, Jeon.”

“Always playing hard to get,” Jungkook sighs. “Sorry we can’t all smell like your floraly essence after playing an intense Quidditch game.”

You only hum in response, turning your head to look away from him and his friends. The act seems to earn a smirk from Jungkook and then he and his friends are parting from you, walking back to the locker rooms. After that day, your friends’ profuse pleads and begs for you to come with them one day when the Quidditch teams are practicing would eventually make you cave in. When Jungkook sees you sitting in the stands burrowed in a wool scarf and heavy robes, albeit with a frown on your face and your eyes scanning the pages of a book in your lap, he catches your attention by shouting your name and then winking at you. Seconds later, a Quaffle is thrown his way by a fellow teammate and nearly knocks him off his broom.

In fifth year, you are seated in your Transfiguration class at the back and nearly dozing off as your Professor drones on and on in the early morning about some boring lecture. Jungkook sits in the row opposite you and a seat behind but that doesn’t stop him from constantly trying to catch your attention, whispering your name. It is only when you hear a few classmates near you break out into wondrous awes that you lift your head from its resting place wedged between your folded arms on top of your desk and turn. Soaring above the students’ heads is an enchanted paper bird, its thin wings fluttering its way to you.

You gaze at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, before noticing that it is Jungkook who had magicked it, wand in hand as he waves it towards you. As soon as it reaches your table, it floats around your head and lingers in front of your face, beckoning you to take it. Instead, your hands try swatting it away though it doesn’t seem to budge. When you relent and succumb to taking the bird, it is not before you shoot an annoyed glance back at Jungkook. Then, you unwrap the bird in your hand. With thin black ink sprawled out in perfect cursive writing, a single dreadful question is poised in pretty script: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the Three Broomsticks? It’ll be my treat.

“Is that from Jungkook?” Hana asks. She peers over your shoulder from beside you to look down at the paper, her voice incredibly louder than you would have liked. “It is! Is he asking you out? You know, I always knew you liked him. You’re a terrible liar— ”

You gasp. Your hand quickly covers the paper, yanking it out of Hana’s view. “I do not like him!”

“Do too!” Hana laughs. “So, what are you going to say? Huh, who knew Jungkook was so soft and cute? Have I told you how cute the two of you would be together?”

Maybe it’s the way she so suddenly begins to gush over you dating Jungkook, or the way her voice garners the attention of those sitting around you, letting other girls fawn over how cute his simple gesture is, that makes you curdle with embarrassment. But what are you so shy of? You are insistent that you don’t like Jungkook but you were certain that if word spread that you did have feelings for him, your whole life would be drastically ruined. Or maybe you were more fearful of the idea of possibly liking Jungkook in return, even if you had so profusely been lying to everyone and yourself.  

“Stop it!” You hiss. “I would rather kiss the squid in the Black Lake than date him!”

Then, as if to emphasize this apparent hatred, you grab your quill and furiously write in big scratchy letters “NO” before crumpling it in your hand and twisting in your seat. Set on chucking the balled up piece of paper right at Jungkook’s smug face, you are startled when you feel the paper being plucked from your grasp by none other than your Professor. She stands before you with a sour look on her face, a willowy old lady with gray wisps of hair pulled back into a tight bun. 

“Ah, Miss Y/N,” she hums, “if you have more important matters that you seem to want to discuss with Mr. Jeon, surely you can divulge with the rest of the class too.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You watch, stricken with horror, as she unravels the paper in her hands, her glossy eyes skimming its contents from beneath her half-moon spectacles. She purses her lips, and then shifts her gaze to you and then to Jungkook sitting behind you. The silence that follows as she moves towards him is near unbearable, making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“If you would have much rather preferred to flirt with Miss Y/N than listen to my lecture, feel free to leave my class, Jeon,” Your Professor says. She drops the paper onto his desk with a flourish. “Though, it’d be in your best interest to stop your daydreaming and pay attention to my class because I’m afraid her answer was no.”

Your eyes widen as you twist in your seat to look at your Professor and a startled Jungkook. And, maybe, if you looked hard enough and passed the smug smirk, you could see his conceited stare falter as a look of hurt flashes across his eyes. A few murmurs and giggles break out amongst the students, making your cheeks burn hot and forces you to turn back around and away from Jungkook.

“And I suppose that now neither of you are busy tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind spending it in detention with me,” Your Professor says. Then she was rounding on her heel, marching back to the front of the classroom and restarting her lecture.

After the torturous detention where Jungkook suddenly refuses to look or talk to you after what had happened, and a week after the missed Hogsmeade trip, you would find Jungkook walking the halls, hand-in-hand, with another Ravenclaw girl. As they pass you, seemingly unaware of your lingering presence, you see the girl stop Jungkook and lean forward to kiss him, his own hands resting on her waist and tugging her closer to him. Though you tell yourself you’re free from his constant flirting and mocking, you can’t help but feel somewhat let down as you walk away that day.

In the beginning of sixth year, when all the students had found a moment to themselves and a much needed break from all the sudden stress of homework, you would wind up at a party being held in the Room of Requirements. Though you weren’t quite sure how the students were able to smuggle alcohol into the school, you remember drinking until you are blissfully numb and without a care in the world. Most of the evening had been spent chatting to Nayeon and Hana but when they become distracted with flirting with their crushes, you are left alone. It isn’t much long after that you stumble into Jungkook. Drunkenly dancing to the upbeat thump of music that reverberated around the room, you had, somehow, lost your footing. As you fall into the thick crowd, a pair of strong hands reach out to swiftly catch onto yours arms and hold you up. Jungkook’s surprised when you don’t bother pushing him away and let him help straighten you up. Clearly, you’re much too drunk to function, and he makes sure to hold you at a comfortable distance away from him. Then, there, under the dim lights of the room, you are met with his typical smirk tugging at his luscious pink lips (which you find yourself gazing at for longer than necessary). 

“Ah, if it isn’t Jeon Jungkook,” You rasp. You sway dangerously in his hold and nearly fall to the floor again. He tightens his grip on you and catches you once more before you can slip away. “What do you want from me tonight?”

“Hey, you bumped into me. I’m just being nice and making sure you don’t face-plant the floor.” 

“Yeah, but of course you had to be right beside me. I think I’d rather have face-planted the floor.”

He quirks a brow. He feigns dropping you, momentarily loosening his grip just enough for you to come flailing forward with a yelp of surprise. He doesn’t let you fall too far, though, and catches onto you swiftly once more, hooking his arm around your waist. When you meet his stare with a scowl, he grins. “You were saying?”

“Do you remember that one time you told me I never have fun?” 

“Not really.”

“Ah, well, you say a lot of shit to me,” You say. “But that stuck out the most. You called me a dementor. A dementor. My thirteen year old self never forgot that.”

Jungkook winces at how carefree you seemed to say it, at how you still remembered it three years later. His hands drop from you once you’re steady and he runs his fingers through his locks, softly pushing them up and out of his eyes before they ultimately fall flat against his forehead once more. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he says. “I mean, look at you now. You seem to be having a lot of fun. How drunk are you anyway?”

“It’s not fun when it feels like I’m trying to prove a point to you,” You sigh. “But I already know you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true,” Jungkook says. “You’re the one who doesn’t care about me.”

You burst out into a fit of mocking laughter and shake your head at him. Swaying forward, almost precariously close to him, you tap the tip of his nose with your finger. “Jeon Jungkook, you can be real oblivious.”

And then you are kissing him, pressing your soft lips to his. He doesn’t push you away, albeit however incredibly surprised he may be. Instead, as he feels your lips move against his, he finds himself basking in everything that is you. All he can smell is your floral perfume and, passed the liquor that stained your lips, could taste your peach lip balm and the bubble gum you had been chewing earlier in the night. He hates how much he loves it. His hands lift to rest on either side of your face and he gently brings you closer to him, his tongue laving at your peach flavoured lower lip. He hears you moan softly in content as you melt against his chest, your fingers suddenly tugging desperately at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s then that you realize that all you can smell is the scent of freshly cut grass and his lemony shampoo, but all you can taste is something warm and sugary that feels all too comforting.

You come to the conclusion in your drunken mind that you would have loved to keep kissing him. That, maybe, kissing Jeon Jungkook wasn’t so bad. But then just as suddenly as you had kissed him, he is pulling away from you, sending you crashing and burning down from your reverie. With swollen pink lips, wide eyes, and dishevelled hair, Jungkook shakes his head abruptly and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry.” 

He flees from your grasp and from the party before you can stop him — and it is in that moment that you began to hate Jungkook, but not more than you hate yourself for actually enjoying the way it felt to kiss someone like him. You would never learn why he had left so soon until much later when he tells you that he didn’t want you to regret anything you did drunk — didn’t want you to regret kissing someone like him when you had seemed to hate him for years prior.

In the second half of sixth year, when you begin to fail Potions, your Professor does what he thinks is best and pairs you with Jungkook, the smartest student in his class. Hearing that Jungkook, of all people, is remarkable at Potions doesn’t come as a surprise. You are quick to learn just why he had been placed into Ravenclaw, carrying their impressive ambition and intelligence. If anything, you are almost jealous of how easily he seems to pick up on things and can reproduce them at top notch quality.

Your friendship with him is still strained and is perhaps even worse than it had once been ever since the night of the party. Neither of you talk about the moment and, from what either of you were concerned, both of you had long since forgotten the night had ever happened. Unbeknownst to you is that when Jungkook sees how cold and distant you become in the days after, he refuses to tell you the truth that the kiss is always on his mind. So, when you are forced to work with him for any assignments or in-class work, most of your conversations end in constant bickering. Miraculously, somehow, your grades do gradually begin to pick up. 

One day, when you both walk into class, you are greeted to the sight of a smoldering cauldron placed neatly on top of your Professor’s desk, a beautiful scent filling the room that seems to be coming specifically from whatever has been brewing. The liquid contents within contains a mother-of-pearl sheen and clear smoke spirals from it in wisps. As soon as everyone is seated at their desks, your Professor steps forward and begins his lecture.

“Good evening, class!” he chirps. “Today we have a very exciting lecture that has to do with what is currently sitting on my desk. Now, can anyone tell me what exactly it is?”

A few shouts of guesses are tossed into the air but all are wrong as your Professor simply shakes his head. Jungkook raises his hand casually and your Professor points enthusiastically at him. 

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“It’s Amortentia,” he says.

“Right you are, my boy!” Your Professor beams. “Five points to Ravenclaw! This is, in fact, Amortentia. Now, for those of you who do not know what it is, that is perhaps all the best. But as it is, it’s important to educate you on the various effects each potion can have on a being and why someone should, or should not, administer it. Amortentia, simply put, is a love potion.”

Gasps of awe and murmurs from certain students circulate the room as your Professor carries on.

“And not just any love potion — the most powerful love potion in the world,” he says. “If anyone were to receive such a potion, it would cause an intense infatuation and obsession on the drinker. However, the potion must be continuously administered to the drinker or else the effects will wear off and the drinker will regain his or her conscience and free will. Now, if you ever wanted to know how to identify Amortentia, you can rely on its very distinct smell. Differing on the person who smells it, it will always morph into the scent of whomever you desire most. For instance, I smell lemon drops, toothpaste, and parchment paper. You may all smell something different.”

A handful of students lean forward in their seat, desperately moving closer to the cauldron and the potion that carried such charming scents. Despite not wanting to show your immediate interest in something as strange as a love potion, you sit back in your seat but inhale a slow, deep breath of air and the scent that makes your heart skip a beat. It would pose as an obstacle to focusing on the lecture as your Professor carried on, though you find you’re not the only one so easily distracted by it. Halfway through the class, he stops his lecture and informs the students of their task for the evening: replicating Amortentia perfectly with the help of the partner sitting next to them.

So, you and Jungkook immediately head to work, beginning the tedious process of preparing ingredients and brewing the potion. Naturally, your own potion brewing goes faster than others as Jungkook seems to know what to do with everything. For the most part, you sit back and watch, as Jungkook refuses your help any time you offer, claiming you would only just slow him down. When it’s done, and the entire class is still halfway through theirs, you fold your arms over your chest and look up at Jungkook, noting the way his eyebrows scrunch together as he peers down at the glistening potion.

“I can’t smell anything,” You say. “Did you even do this right?”

Jungkook grimaces, though his stare falters. He doesn’t admit it aloud, but he worries for a moment that maybe he isn’t as good at Potions as he thought he was. In the next second, he scowls and shoots you a look.

“What kind of question is that?” he asks. “Of course I did it right! I followed everything properly. It even looks perfect.”

“Well, obviously it isn’t perfect if neither of us can smell anything,” You say.

“Well,” Jungkook says, irritated, “maybe if you didn’t bathe yourself in your ridiculous floral perfume, I could smell something.”

“Me?” Your mouth drops open in an appalled gap. “Now it’s my fault? You’re one to talk. Did you have practice this morning? All I can smell is grass and your stupid lemon shampoo or whatever it is. It’s disgusting.”

The bickering continues on between the two of you until you’ve seemingly grabbed the attention of the entire class. Near the very end of the period, it’s Taehyung who finally says something, leaning back in his chair to look at the two of you. 

“Jungkook didn’t have practice this morning,” he says. “He also didn’t shower because he slept in late. Or did you forget that, Jungkook?”

“And Y/N?” Nayeon chimes in from beside you. “Didn’t you run out of your perfume last week?”

Jungkook clamps his mouth shut. Your own heart stops. Suddenly, your face is burning intensely and Jungkook’s own cheeks are pinched a bright red as, slowly, the realization seems to dawn on the both of you. Chuckles emit from your friends as your Professor signals that the time is up. You don’t dare look at Jungkook as your Professor grades each potion, and then anxiously await the chance to dash out the door when your Professor claims yours and Jungkook’s potion was done just perfect. As soon as he moves on to the next pair, you have gathered your belongings and have darted out the room. You are nearly halfway down the corridor when you hear Jungkook calling after you, begging you to stop.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wait up, please!”

Your feet quicken in pace as you round the corner. Just when you think you’re free, you feel a hand clasp around your wrist and pull you back into a hardened figure. Jungkook. He’s standing so incredibly close to you now, his gaze softening as he looks you once over. You can only avoid his stare, though your eyes fall to the distraction that is his hand clamped around your wrist. 

“I really am not in the mood to talk right now, Jungkook,” You mumble. “Just leave me alone.”

“What else did you smell?” Jungkook asks.

His question makes you stop. It’s what causes you to carefully lift your stare to look at him.

“What?” You stammer. “What does it matter?”

“Just tell me, please,” he says, his grip tightening around your wrist. “I need to know.”

You could have shaken your head at him, pushed him away and walked off, but the longer you stare at him, the faster you begin to cave. Your mind is instantly brought back to just moments ago and the love potion that had filled your senses. As you think about all the lovely things you could smell, you whisper the answer in a sheepish voice:

“Strawberries.”

There is a split moment where all you can see is Jungkook’s beaming grin before he is pulling you toward him for a kiss that nearly sweeps you off your feet. You collapse against his broad chest, your hands flying up to bundle in his shirt and pull at him tightly as he kisses you and kisses you. You wonder why he had done so spontaneously but then it seems to hit you.

All you can smell on Jungkook, all you can taste, is lemon, grass, and strawberries. 

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[dandelionflower]

I saw on one of your post that said to send you prompts sooo... can I request A childhood friend AU either Felix or Marinette moves away and then reuniting in college in France at age 14 in Felix's school with the Quantic Kids.

It was a pretty normal day, which probably meant something was going to happen. If it wasn’t a normal day, something was bound to happen as well; life in Paris hadn’t been normal in months. It being a normal day meant that Marinette was late. Super late. Way, way, so very late she might as well be early for the next thing kind of late. So late that- (oh, she’s beginning to catch onto why she’s so late.)

She knew even as she was shoving toothpaste into her bag for Tikki and brushing her teeth with frosting (wait, switch that) that she would be late, and her erratic movements were enough to convince her parents to write her an excuse. Not that anyone could blame her; she had to deal with three akumas in one night. Three akumas. Who could blame her, or anyone for that matter, for being late when there were three emotionally-stunted teens each wreaking havoc upon the city? It was a wonder that anyone else got to class on time, except for Alya, who Marinette was pretty sure didn’t sleep.

Marinette kissed both parents goodbye, thanking them again for the excuse note. They shoved a box of pastries into her hands, as was their habit whenever she didn’t leave school fast enough.

They had done it since her first day at her new school, when she was tiny and frightened of new people; having the same best friend since birth would do that. Her father had shoved a box of macaroons in her arms and her mother placed a bracing arm on her back. They told her what to do and she tried her hardest to follow their instructions, standing up straight at the front of the class, introducing herself, and offering cookies. Unfortunately, that was the same day Chloe Bourgeois was joining public school, and compared to cookies, her offer of money to ten year-olds wasn’t all that effective. And Chloe was excellent at holding a grudge.

Of course, she ended up with friends: Alya, Nino, Adrien, and everyone in art class, but it was hard to go about her first couple years of school without anyone in her corner. Becoming Ladybug really gave her the boost of confidence she needed to break out of her shell and make new friends, and now she had a whole class full.

She stopped in the classroom to put her stuff away, pausing for a second to breathe. How was she out of shape? She’s Ladybug, for heavens’ sakes! Those three akumas really took it out of her. Luckily enough, she had gym class up next. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

“Girl! Where have you been?” Alya smiled up at her from where she was stretching her hamstrings.

“Sorry Alya, slept in too much.” She fell into place beside her, choosing one of the more advanced stretches to accomplish instead. “Three akumas yesterday; couldn’t get much sleep.”

“You need to get over yourself, Mari. Ladybug and Chat Noir always win against the akumas, this fear of yours is ridiculous.” Alya glanced at her with an incredulous look, but when she saw her intense yoga pose, the look shifted and she yelled over her shoulder. “Adrien! Get over here! Marinette’s doing her physics-defying stuff again!”

Adrien joined them, laughing at Alya’s exaggerated despair. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to-” He fell into the position easily and began matching her movements. “There.”

“How on EARTH?” Alya shrieked and threw herself to the right, toppling into Nino, who was in a shaky warrior two. They ended up in a heap on the floor, Alya staring in horror at the two still upright and Nino staring bewildered at his girlfriend. “How are you two doing that?”

“Well, I don’t know about Marinette,” Adrien moved into an upward dog, “but father insisted that I be physically active in some way and my mother used to do yoga. So I picked it up.”

Nino leaned close to Alya’s ear. “I’m not sure whether to add this to the ‘reasons Gabriel sucks’ list or be happy he has this thing with his mom.”

“Both I guess?”

“What about you Marinette?” He moved into a handstand-like position. “Why do you know all this stuff?”

My superhero moonlighting requires me to be as stretchy as a rubber band, so my partner, who is also a furry, taught me yoga. “My first best friend and I learned tai chi, and this just felt like the next step.” Not a lie, just not why she chose yoga.

“Okay, you’re fine.” Alya pointed a finger between them both. “But next time you do something weird, I’m starting a cryptid blog about you.”

“You don’t have the guts.” Marinette leaned in and Adrien flipped down to join her. It felt familiar, like deja vu; not her crush, she killed that with fire once he started dating Kagami.

“Heey!” Nino opened his arms in front of them. “Let’s change the subject, what about that new student?”

“There’s a new student?” Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were all stretching dutifully. No new faces whatsoever. “Where are they?”

“Not here, he went to the office over a scheduling conflict. Seems like a jerk.” Alya pulled an arm behind her head, glaring with derision in the direction of the office.

“Alya, don’t.” Adrien nudged her with a foot. “First impressions don’t mean anything, right Marinette?” He shot her a playful glance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“That one was a misunderstanding. Mister Ice Cold over there doesn’t even say a word, just nods and walks into the back of the class. At least Adrien did something and he asked for forgiveness afterwards. Frosty doesn’t even look at us.” With that final comment, Alya joined the rest of the class in dodgeball.

“Is she alright?” Adrien side-eyed her.

“Yeah, she just really hates people acting superior to her. Let’s go.” Marinette shrugged it off and joined her in picking teams.

Dodgeball was a mess; it always was. The entirety of the class had been akumatized at one point, and some of the strategic prowess remained. Marinette’s team always won, which everyone attributed to her agility, but it was really that Ladybug had more practice in strategy. The only way the teams could be considered even was if Adrien was against her.

She still won; she always won. When it was all over, each team, sweating and exhausted, gravitated to the center line to shake hands and congratulate one another on a game well played. Adrien met her in the middle with a weary smirk. His hair was disheveled, but there was a spark in his eyes that made him seem more familiar than he already was.

“I almost got you that time.” He gripped her hand tight.

“All that training with Kagami is really upping your game.” She quipped, shaking his hand. “Better luck next time.”

With that promise of another match, everyone vacated the gym to the locker rooms, where Alya continued to warn Marinette against the new student.

“Even Chloe doesn’t like him and he seems like the kind of rich boy that would be right up her alley.”

“Alya, I get it. You aren’t the new guy’s biggest fan.”

“And the feeling’s mutual too.” She griped.

“So just don’t talk to him; it works with Chloe. Why not this guy too?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to their desk.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You don’t have to like him either.” She pulled out her notebook and began writing down the date.

Before Alya could make another passive aggressive comment about the mystery new boy, Miss Bustier walked in, the usual skip in her step. “Class, I know I already introduced you to our new student but since some of us weren’t here for the first period,” Marinette ducked her head with a sheepish smile, “I’ve decided there’s nothing better than a redo. So, here’s Mister Culpa, introducing himself again.”

Culpa?

A boy with pale blond hair and paler skin strode into the room. He wore what could only be called business-casual, all monochrome. His eyes were a one-in-a-million breathtaking ice blue.

Culpa?

“Hello.” His eyes scanned the room emotionlessly. “As I previously said, my name is Felix Culpa and I am from-” He stopped when he reached her. “Nette?”

“Felix.” She breathed, barely even daring to say it louder, lest he disappear.

He was a blur, climbing the steps and reaching her in the time it took her to stand. There were no words when they hugged, other than the other’s name. She was on the tips of her toes, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. Felix got tall.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing just a little tighter.

“I missed you too.” She laughed, pulling back to see his face. He was crying. She was crying.

“What in Ladybug’s name is happening?” Alya’s shout broke them from whatever pocket dimension they were inhabiting together. “You two know each other?”

“Alya, this is Felix.” She turned to look at her, hand still on Felix’s shoulder. “He was my best friend from birth to ten.”

“Was?” He bumped her hip with his. “Didn’t know I’ve been replaced, Netta.”

“I couldn’t contact you after I moved! I was ten and your mom never told us what her new number was.” She punched his elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“My family moved. I didn’t know you were in this area too; imagine my surprise when I see what the current events in Paris are and find out that there are superheroes and my best friend is now a borderline celebrity.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to catch up some time.” She grabbed his arm.

“Certainly, maybe not here and now, though.” He gestures to the class around them, avidly watching the exchange.

“Right.” She released his arm and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Coffee and macarons later then? My place?”

“I would like nothing more.” He quirked a smile that would seem tiny to anyone else, but to Marinette was as bright as the sun. “Until then.” Felix squeezed her hand and moved to the back of the class with a little wave.

She returned it, a goofy smile definitely on her face as she sat back down.

“Well,” Miss Bustier coughed, “since Felix has been so thoroughly introduced to everyone else, I suppose I should start the lesson.” And she dove into a spiel about the first World War.

“Dang, girl. Is it just me, or do you have a date after class?” Alya whispered to her from behind her textbook.

“It’s not a date! We’re just catching up.”

“Sure.”

She spared a quick glance at Felix, who was nose-deep in his book, just like when they were kids. He had such sharp features, and upon reconsideration, his eyes looked even more beautiful than she remembered. Felix grew up just fine without her. Really fine, in fact.

It took Marinette a couple seconds to realize she was staring, and when she did, her head turned back to the front of the room so fast she swore she heard a snap.

This was... going to be complicated.

[twistnet]

twistnet’s five year anniversary

going to pin this for a while, so if you’re looking for the navigation ⇢ go here

“ellie, i think somethings wrong with shimmer...”

this is a small requesting event to celebrate my fifth year being on this hellsite. a big thank you to anyone who’s managed to stick around with me this long, or had recently just joined me on this wild adventure. please enjoy to your hearts content!

⋯

SEND ME A ARTIFACT FROM THE LIST UNDER THE CUT and i’ll write you an imagine with a character of your choice! each artifact has a small prompt to go along with it, and if you played either of the tlou games, you may recognize some of the listed artifacts

RULES — please read through; rules not followed = request being denied

example ask — [ can i please request riley’s pendant with matt casey and a female reader? ]

general blog rules apply; please read before requesting ⇢ rules

specify gn!reader or female!reader; default is gender neutral

please state character’s full name when requesting

a character can only be requested twice! for example -- matt casey can only take up two separate prompts; no more than that!

prompts are first come, first serve ⇢ there are 30 slots [ listed under cut ]

please read the bonus listed on some of the prompts; you have the option to add those in

as a prompt is taken, it will be crossed out ⇢ i will answer asks as they come in to verify placement

FANDOMS — arcane, csi miami, dazed and confused, marvel, mayans, narcos, one chicago, prodigal son, resident evil, riverdale, soa, star wars, stranger things, swat, tlou & 911 ⇢ any of the characters on my fandom + character list

EVENT OFFICIALLY CLOSED

⋯

ONE. riley’s pendant  [ ellie williams ] ⇢ your lover can’t help but look at the ring on your finger; “i can’t believe you’re really mine”

TWO. joel’s watch [ antonio dawson ] ⇢ your lover gives you something to remember them by

THREE. sam’s robot [ tig trager ] ⇢ your lover comes across an old childhood toy of yours while unpacking a box in your first house together 

FOUR. walkman [ jim hopper ] ⇢ listening to your favorite music with your lover -- bonus; you provide your favorite for them to listen to

FIVE. switchblade [ chris alonso ] ⇢ your lover finds a knife in your bag / pants pocket; chaos ensues

SIX. joel and sara photo [ ethan choi ] ⇢ you and your lover take pictures in a photobooth to mark the end of an amazing first date

SEVEN. no pun intended [ adam ruzek ] ⇢ you tell your lover a joke, which results in them laughing so hard they begin crying

EIGHT. lab recorder [ steve harrington ] ⇢ your lover listens to a voicemail you left them on their phone -- bonus; you can pick angst or fluff

NINE. tess’ list [ nathan drake ] ⇢ you send your lover to the store with a list of things to get, they end up bringing home more than you had asked for -- bonus; they got a few things because they knew you’d like it

TEN. wanted poster [ jay halstead ] ⇢ your lover accidentally stumbles across your arrest record -- bonus; they are surprised because you are the sweetest person they know

ELEVEN. savage starlight comic [ eddie munson ] ⇢ you show your lover your favorite book / comic and somehow manage to get them hooked on it -- bonus; they totally started reading it because they wanted something to talk to you about

TWELEVE. engraved ring [ dmitri antonov ] ⇢  your lover proposes to you in the heat of the moment; this wasn’t how they planned it going at all

THIRTEEN. map of seattle [ matt casey ] ⇢ you and your lover go on vacation, and your lover insists the two of you aren’t lost 

FOURTEEN. street drawing [ steve harrington ] ⇢ you find your lover’s drawings / paintings of you 

FIFTEEN. raul’s olive branch [ hondo harrelson ] ⇢ you or your lover apologize after a fight

SIXTEEN. programme for cassandra [ victor tan ] ⇢ you and your lover go to see a late night movie

SEVENTEEN. tara’s invitation [ evan buckley ]  ⇢ you go to stay at your lover’s place after learning you are unable to stay at your own -- bonus; you get to pick why

EIGHTEEN. join wlf note [ hunter ] ⇢ you or your lover are apart of an underground resistance, and it’s one of your jobs to recruit the other -- bonus; can be au or canon depending on the character chosen 

NINETEEN. pharmacy note [ jim street ] ⇢ you or your lover come down with a sickness, and one of you runs to the store to get them anything they could possibly need

TWENTY. bookstore note [ brian zvonecek ] ⇢ you or your lover reassures the other of their love after a bout of self-consciousness

TWENTY-ONE. arcade flyer [ peter parker ] ⇢ you and your lover go to the arcade -- bonus; you pick who beats the other’s high score

TWENTY-TWO. strange artifact [ malcolm bright ] ⇢ your lover gifts you something odd they found at a secondhand store simply because “it reminded me of you” -- bonus; you get to pick the item 

TWENTY-THREE. hospital supply list [ erin lindsay ] ⇢ you or your lover end up in the hospital after doing something idiotic -- bonus; you get to pick what happened

TWENTY-FOUR. zoo holiday brochure [ kelly severide ] ⇢ you and your lover go to the zoo -- bonus; your kid(s) convinced you to go 

TWENTY-FIVE. prayer for victory [ carlos oliveira ] ⇢ you or your lover suffer an injury, and no one knows if you are going to make it out alive

TWENTY-SIX. failed truce [ jay halstead ] ⇢ you or your love fall out of love with the other -- bonus; the person you now love is something the both of you know

TWENTY-SEVEN. survivor plea [ jay halstead x kim burgess ] ⇢ you or your lover is in danger, and the other would do anything to make sure they are safe again. even at the risk of their own life

TWENTY-EIGHT. young seraphite’s journal [ connor rhodes ] ⇢ your lover finds an old journal of yours full of love confessions and odd secrets you held onto from before the two of you began dating

TWENTY-NINE. rattler’s note [ rafe adler ] ⇢ you find out your lover did something horrible -- bonus; you get to pick what they did and whether you forgive them

THIRTY. runaway warning [ sam drake ] ⇢ you or your lvoer go missing, and it’s up to the other to find them and bring them home -- bonus; you pick angst or fluff for ending

happy requesting! tagging some mutuals!

@libraryofloveletters​​ // @blathannabeaga​ // @nightlywords7​ // @mirabee​ // @purplerain85​ // @cherieann-2001​ // @shebemyne​ // @leopardprinthearts​ // @ggrayyxx​ // @wanderlust-and-poetry​ // @burgstead​ // @halsteadswhore22​

[mistymilkweed]

do you have any cg!caitlyn and regressor!vi headcanons? if not just cg caitlyn hcs are fine 💖

i hope this is okay! it's my first time writing for two characters

CG! Caitlyn and Regressor! Vi

I think Vi would regress to being around 5 - 7 years old. She'd be adventurous and curious about everything, and Caitlyn would think it's completely and utterly adorable and wholesome to the max.

Just like most caregivers, Caitlyn is pretty busy most of the time, but she always makes time for Vi. Sometimes when Caitlyn works late, she makes it up to Vi the following weekend by taking her to the park, to a toy store, or to a carnival.

If/when Vi is sick or injured, Caitlyn will take as much time off work as necessary for her baby. She has a hard time NOT coddling Vi since it's already hard enough as is. She knows Vi sometimes wants her space, even when she's regressing, so Caitlyn respects that, but she will be a little more insistent if Vi is sick or hurt in any way, shape, or form.

Vi can be a little bratty sometimes, and Caitlyn is good at handling it. She'll sit Vi down and calmly ask her why she's acting the way she is. If Vi doesn't have a good reply and this continues, Caitlyn will make Vi go make her sit or stand in a corner for around five to ten minutes to think about what she's done. Of course, Caitlyn hates doing this, but it's necessary.

Though Caitlyn tries not to spoil Vi too much, she does love seeing the look on her face when she comes home with a toy she's been talking about a lot. Caitlyn rewards Vi for good behavior by getting her all sorts of toys like stuffed animals, action figures, and small little gadgets.

Since Vi loves to be active most the day, Caitlyn loves to play games like tag and hide and seek with her. Any other game Vi can and certainly will come up with, Caitlyn will be enthusiastic to play it with her. She just loves seeing Vi smile.

Bedtime is almost always a struggle. Vi refuses to go to bed most the time, so Caitlyn has a system worked out. They spend an hour of quiet time, just winding down, since she knows this calms Vi a lot. Caitlyn has really no clue how Vi is so energetic and hyper during the day, and still like that during night.

Sometimes Caitlyn will make blanket forts for the both of them. She lets Vi help out since she knows her little helper is always wanting to do anything but stay idle, and she does enjoy how proud Vi acts when they're done, acting like she did all the work, when Caitlyn was really the one who did most of it. Vi usually isn't very cuddly, but blanket forts make her want to. Also, Vi really loves destroying the fort the next morning.

Since Caitlyn is busy often, she'll probably get a dog to keep Vi company. I can imagine Vi really wanting one, and though Caitlyn's more of a cat person, she'd probably give in.

Caitlyn is a little strict, but she doesn't do it to be mean (even if Vi claims otherwise when she's throwing a fit), she just does it because Vi has a hard time behaving, and because she just hates how often Vi gets herself hurt.

Most the time Caitlyn chooses out overly cute clothes for Vi. Vi doesn't most the time though, insisting they're too girly and babyish, but the next day she's wearing them, and though Caitlyn hides it, she's awwing in adoration in her head.

Her nicknames for Vi are, "sweet pea" and "baby", but she also often calls her "little troublemaker". She calls her by her name most of the time, though.

The first time Vi regressed, I can imagine Caitlyn would be confused, but would still immediately speak in a softer and sweeter tone. Afterwards Vi would be really awkward about it but would reluctantly explain it, and Caitlyn would be understanding.

Vi calls her either "Mommy" or "Mom", depending on how smol she's feeling. Caitlyn loves it when Vi calls her that, it makes her feel so overwhelmed with love.

Another thing Caitlyn loves to do for Vi is taking her to go get ice cream. She knows each time Vi will get herself covered in ice cream, so she always brings extra napkins with her. Caitlyn also makes sure Vi eats the ice cream slowly, insisting she'll get a tummy ache if she eats it too quickly.

Every morning Vi is a little more affectionate than usual, and Caitlyn smiles in adoration when Vi crawls into her lap sleepily. Since Vi is much more of a night owl than an early bird, especially compared to Caitlyn, Caitlyn doesn't mind spending that time to cuddle with Vi.

[pain-in-the-butler]

it’s late, I’m bored, time for Hunger Games Simulator Kuroshit Edition Episode 2

Day 1 Cornucopia highlights

Sebastian’s just like “aight time to clean”

it’s gonna take more than that to help you now, bud

they might be too pure for this

rip grandpa

Will also said “fuck it, cleaning time”

Agni brings out the right hand of god for bread, Randall gets the broken nose he’s deserved for a while now (he did win the last Hunger Games, to everyone’s disappointment)

O!Ciel hoping to hibernate it out

TERRIBLE NEWS EVERYONE, OUR GIRL IS DEAD ALREADY

Phipps, Macmillan, Finny, Lizzie, Soma, Abberline, Undertaker, Edward, Bard, Ronald, Othello, Mey-Rin, and Grey all got away from the cornucopia safely. Some of them got weapons, but the game doesn’t record what weapons people have and what they don’t, so whatever people picked up doesn’t really matter

Day 1 highlights

HARCOURT CAME TO FUCKIN PLAY YA’LL

gdi Randall, we just lost three of four girls in one fell swoop, I hope you bleed out from your broken nose and die

Ronald says we aren’t allowed to have nice things

Other highlights:

Day 1 Arena Event: Borders Close In

Edward punishes Agni for his bread crimes

Hunger Games simulator is actually just a rare pairs simulator

pretty upset that Harcourt died so soon, it’s always kind of funny when he gets the chance to become a cold-blooded killer

and there goes our last lady (though now that I think about it, I should probably sub in Lao and Ran-Mao)

Day 1 and we’ve already lost Lizzie, Mey-Rin, Bard, Tanaka, Soma, Agni, Sieglinde, Grell, Othello, Phipps, Abberline, Randall, and Harcourt

This leaves us with only eleven survivors: O!Ciel, R!Ciel, Sebastian, Edward, Finny, Undertaker, Wolfram, William, Ronald, Grey, and Macmillan

Night 1 highlights

the boys are like “better make the best of a bad situation by creating the next Kuromyu”

Macmillan had the same idea, but he’s alone, and no one’s favorite character is Macmillan

alternate title: R!Ciel and Undertaker traumatize Edward and Finny so badly that they can’t sleep

O!Ciel’s sitting on his food cache like a fat dragon guarding its hoard of treasure

Wolfram is unable to sleep, but Grey builds himself an entire camp and presumably gets plenty of beauty rest

Day 2 highlights

Macmillan refuses to kill the shorter, two-eyed version of his friend. Meanwhile, R!Ciel is already dead

Ciel’s almost too in character as he waits for the enemies to come to him while he does whatever the hell he wants

they’re just blond boys doin what blond boys do

other highlights:

Wow, no deaths today, so it looks like it’s camping o’clock

Night 2 highlights

black ops Macmillan says never trust anyone, not even the side character who exists to set up exposition

why do I feel like Wolfram will regret this

well, at least we know he didn’t burn down the manor

R!Ciel: I’ve reclaimed the manor, my title, and my girlfriend. What are you gonna do about it? O!Ciel:

other highlights:

Alas, poor Will

Day 3 highlights

R!Ciel is really out here like “I’m incapable of dying, just try to kill me and you’ll see” but no one believes him

the food king discovers he cannot be sustained on food alone

Grey does the gentlemanly thing

Wolfram says “my death scythe now”

Other highlights:

and so day 3 comes to an end with this final roster

we’re fortunate enough this time to have things wrapping up with both twins and Sebastian still alive, which keeps things interesting. However, Macmillan is also here, and the randomizer could turn him into an absolutely feral killing machine. Nothing is sacred in Hunger Games Simulator

Night 3 highlights

looks like someone couldn’t find that water source

another man cleared of arson

fast, hungry boy and strong, hungry boy bond over being hungry

still not entirely certain Macmillan knows he’s helping the wrong twin

the only wounds he's gotten are from the thorns while picking berries.......

fair enough my man

The Feast highlights

Somehow the frail, decrepit perpetual ten-year-old managed to defeat the powerful demon and grim reaper armed with a lawn mower. Did I mention nothing is sacred

Day 4 highlights

Macmillan and Finny both spared R!Ciel, but as soon as Macmillan asks for death, Finny’s like “you got it champ”

meanwhile the brothers are squabbling but what else is new

imagine if we got to a point in the manga where the roster actually looked like this 3wijaor;jiwa

Night 4 highlights

so I guess somehow Grey has cemented himself as Enemy #1 and the boys put aside their differences so they could have a slumber party with the remaining blond boys

Day 5 highlights

Older blond boy kills younger blond boy in a truly devastating example of blond boy crime. Meanwhile, O!Ciel add medical supplies to his growing collection of goodies, and Grey says “ooga booga” at a child

Night 5 highlights

it’s like the start of the Blue Cult arc all over again

Day 6 highlights

Did R!Ciel just die really anticlimactically?? Also, O!Ciel becomes a perfect combination of McGruff the crime dog and Smokey the Bear and says no to fires

Night 6 highlights

Hunger Games simulator returns to being a rare pairs simulator. Somehow O!Ciel has acquired an infection, and R!Ciel is definitely dead

Day 7 highlights

O!Ciel, Grey, and Wolfram take a page from the Public School Arc’s notes and don’t do anything interesting for a while

Night 7 highlights

Wolfram gets medical supplies but refuses to use them on his new boyfriend. O!Ciel's canon energy is stifling

Day 8 highlights

O!Ciel receives a weapon he won’t use. Grey tries to make something happen. Wolfram goes spelunking

Night 8 highlights

O!Ciel’s canon energy continues to rise to dangerous levels, but Seb’s too dead to hear him make orders. Wolfram dies, and if this were the manga, you know our boy wouldn’t stand a chance in hell against Grey

Day 9 highlights

IT’S THE HUNGER GAMES SIMULATOR AND NOTHING IS SACRED

god look at that shit-eating grin. Ciel managed to make it through the whole thing without killing anybody and he knows his ass would be grass if Grey hadn’t gone kablooey. unbelievable. our grand champion, everyone

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Six Stranger Walk Into a Bar: Part 2 (Severen x Fem!Reader) fic

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, domestic flights, cheating mention

Word count: 3817

Here's part two! Hope you guys enjoy~

The six of you had climbed into your car. It was a station wagon, a 1984 Chevrolet Caprice. It was a gift from your parents, right when you'd graduated highschool. It could just barely fit the seven of you, and you had handed your keys over to Jesse, the now named father of the bunch, without much hesitation. You sat in the very back, pushing your back up against the side of your car and staring at the brunette in front of you. He did the same, so the two of you could face the other. You stared at his shirt and ran over the things that you knew.

They had killed everyone in the bar, except you. They had burned the bar down. You had helped them, no matter how reluctantly. They were heading to your trailer to lay low for the day, as the sun was due in only a couple of hours. Which you had been stupid enough to offer. And they weren't going to kill you. Yet. Why was still a mystery to you. 

You had given Jesse directions, but all he really needed was the street name and the map out of your dashboard. He'd assured you he could figure out the rest. It took you a moment to realize that it might've been out of distrust. 

Severen was staring at you. He had one leg brought to his chest, one arm using it to prop it up. His arm laid outstretched, hand jolting with each bump on the road. His legs were stretched out, mingling with yours. You met his eyes and stared defiantly back. His gaze was unwavering, a smile growing on his face with each second you stared. It took a few minutes, but, finally, you broke. You looked away, looking at the couple just in front of you. Mae had her head resting on Calebs shoulder, with his arm slung around her. Homer was sitting besides them, and you found that, besides the mean look he gave you, he was content to stare outside the window with his arms crossed. He was the closest to you, besides the man across from you. Diamondback had the map in her hands, and she was acting as navigator.

"You got a name?" Severen asked, and your eyes snapped back to him. He was sending you a small curl of his lips, one that hadn't decided on being a smile or a smirk just yet. You gave it to him, just as easily as you'd given Jesse your keys. If you wanted to stay alive, you figured cooperating was the only way to do that. He nodded, but you didn't think he'd be using it anytime soon. He had a variety of nicknames he preferred, but perhaps it was for the other members of his group. "I'm Severen." He said, and you almost hated his voice. You hated how he could make anything sound good, even his own name. If he had a hat, you'd imagine he'd tip it at you. He placed his hands on his stomach, interlacing his fingers as he lifted his brows and said, "So, live alone?" And you almost wished you could slip back into the silence.

"Yeah, I," But you paused, debating on what he actually needed to know. "I live alone, but my parents live in town." You said, and he hummed. 

"Space from ma and pa?" He asked, and you could hear the same humor from before in his voice. Seemed like Severen just liked to be the tiniest bit of an asshole sometimes. But he also seemed to like you. At least, enough to keep you around. You just gave him a nod, deciding to save the details for yourself. It was Homer that turned around and cut in, asking,

"How old are you, anyway?" And you looked at the boy. He was chubby, and he couldn't be older than thirteen. But the way he talked? He talked as if he'd had a chip on his shoulder for at least ten years. You supplied your age, and he sneered. "Little young for you, Severen?" He said, and your brows furrowed. Severen didn't look much older than you. He couldn't have been older than twenty five. Maybe late twenties if he had good genetics. But, from the way Severen leaned forward and practically growled a,

"Shut up." You guessed that couldn't be true. You stared at him, confusion evident in your eyes. He stared at Homer for another second, but this? You didn't have to guess what was going on between the two. It was a clear silent look of telling Homer to keep his mouth shut, and Homer only signaled his surrender when he huffed and turned around in his seat. 

You felt a dip in the road, and your eyes turned instinctively out the window. You were here. You were home. You'd never once dreaded it before. You told Jesse which house to park at, and he didn't have any trouble finding your usual spot. The tire tracks in the grass made it a little too easy. He turned your car off, and they all piled out. It was Caleb that opened the back for you and Severen, and you let Severen go first. He held out a hand to help you out, and you took it politely. He pulled you out of the trunk and placed a hand on your lower back to keep you steady. The contact had your stomach swimming, but you pushed those feelings away and walked forward. You didn't see Severens slightly dejected expression, but you heard him close the trunk of your car. Your fingers were nearly shaking as you climbed the steps and fished for your house keys, only to realize when Jesse passed them to you. You didn't see the look that Jesse and Diamondback shared, but you unlocked the door and thanked god that you'd forced yourself to clean your trailer to try to get yourself out of your depressive state. It hadn't worked, but it made you feel better about having company. 

The left side of your trailer was your living room. It had a couch pressed up against the width of the wall, with a tv pressed against the opposite wall and tilted so the couch could see it. To your immediate right was the kitchen and kitchen table. It had a corner booth, one that allowed two people to sit together. Maybe three if you didn’t plan on opening the front door anytime soon. The kitchen was pressed against the opposite wall, and then there was a hallway. The hallway led to two bedrooms and a bathroom. To its credit, the toilet worked and the shower had hot water. The bedrooms? Besides the one that you had claimed for yourself, the second one was nearly untouched. You and your ex used it as extra storage, but you’d been hesitant to really let it overflow just in case you ever- You cut that thought off. Your future plans, at least the ones including your ex, no longer existed. So, it was nothing more than a guest bedroom. You pulled yourself out of the way, deciding to head for the kitchen so they could drop their things.

“Nice place.” Jesse commented, but you thought it was out of politeness more than anything. You pushed your hair behind your ears, and you quickly said,

“Thank you. Feel free to put your stuff anywhere. It’s not much, um-” But the brother, Caleb, gave you a friendly smile as he set his bag down on the floor, and said,

“Trust me, it’s better than most of what we see.” And you couldn’t help but take that as a compliment and return his smile. He seemed a little different than the others. Like he had a little less teeth. While Severen, no surprise, seemed to have as much teeth as an eager dog. You looked between them, quickly remembering that you had been forgetting your manners. You had missed just the tinge of jealousy in Severens eyes.

“There’s probably nothing on TV, but I have a VCR. The- The tapes are under the TV, and, um, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. The- The bathroom is right there, and there’s a guest bedroom. That’s your first right-” Your mouth was speeding off, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. You opened the door to your fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and grabbing yourself a glass. Your nerves were wrecked as the events of the night slowly started to weigh on you. You drank the juice, trying to find something to ground yourself. It also provided you an excuse not to look at the six of them and a way to stop yourself from blabbing any more than you needed to. The tangy taste of citrus was better than the taste of the liquor you’d had at the bar, and you hoped it would sober you up completely.

It only took a few minutes for them to settle in your trailer. Jesse and Diamondback took the kitchen table, setting out their guns and filling them with bullets. You tried not to gulp at the sight. Caleb and Mae curled up on your couch while Homer sat on the floor, rummaging through your tapes before he finally popped something in the VCR. Severen hung around the kitchen, and it took you a moment to realize it was because he didn’t have anywhere to sit. You grabbed the fold out chair that was wedged in-between the counter and the fridge, and set it out for him as you mumbled an apology. He smiled at you, taking the chair so he could turn around and sit on it backwards. Severen offered a game of russian roulette, but you declined when he offered to deal you in. You quickly rinsed out your cup and set it in the dishwasher, pulling your hair all to one side of your neck as you run your fingers through it. If this was any one of the past few nights, you would’ve taken a spot on the couch, dug into a carton of ice-cream, and cried yourself to sleep. But you couldn’t do that with six witnesses. So, instead, you fixed yourself a sandwich, offered to make them something, and ate it as you watched them play cards. For a moment, you almost felt settled. Until you watched as Jesse suddenly grabbed Severen’s arm.

“Woah, woah, woah. You cheatin’, Severen?” And you watched as he reached into his sleeve to check if he was. Severen defended himself with a quick, 

“I’m not cheatin’.” But there it was. A card that Severen had hid. They pulled their guns on eachother, laughing, and were quick to put them away as Jesse took Severens cards and put them at the bottom of the pile with a quick,

“Deal the cards.” It was a quick little thing, and it shouldn’t have mattered as much as it had. But, it struck you then, like how lightning strikes a tree. Severen was far too different than your ex. Far more handsome, mysterious, and light-hearted than he had ever been. But there was one thing they had in common. They were cheaters. Maybe that's just my type, you told yourself glumly. But, suddenly, your hunger had dissipated. You swallowed the seemingly too dry lump of bread, and wrapped up the sandwich to finish later. In your current circumstances, you couldn't afford to throw away leftovers. You closed the fridge, and Severen tossed a glance your way.

Ever since you'd entered the trailer, he'd been keeping his distance. Hell, the second he'd decided not to kill you he'd been keeping you at an arms length. Maybe it was to let you come to him. Or maybe it was so he could keep an eye on you. Either way, you hadn't talked much, and it was Jesse that tried to coax you over now,

"Y/n, would you keep an eye on him? Make sure he's playing fair?" But it didn't sound like much of a suggestion. Severen moved, flipping his chair so he could sit in it properly when you began to cross the short distance between you and the table. He had patted his lap, but, before he could wrap an arm around your waist or offer you a seat, there was a banging on the door. It made you jump, and Severen was up out of his seat in a second. He was closest to the door, and, out of instinct, you grabbed his arm. He reached down, one of his big hands swallowing yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You heard clicks of a gun, and saw that there was one in both Jesse, Severen, and Homers hands. Your head nearly swam, wondering how the hell you got in a situation where a kid carried a gun. Severens height dwarfed you, and he blocked the screened window so you couldn't even see the outline of who was outside. Then there was a slurred call of,

"Y/n! Let me in!" And your heart sank. It was your fucking ex. You hadn't seen him in nearly a week, ever since you'd found him in this very trailer with a girl on top- You shook your head, shaking away the image that burned the back of your mind. You'd kicked him out, but it seemed he'd come crawling back. "Please, I need to talk to you." He slurred, and you thought you could hear the sound of him swigging back whatever he had started drinking. It was Jesse that said,

"I thought you said you lived alone." And your eyes were worried, almost frightened even, when you looked at him. You whispered back,

"I-I do. It's my ex." You explained quickly, and Severen muttered something besides you. It might've been just your imagination, but you thought you saw a twinge of jealousy in his eyes. You gripped his hand tighter as your ex started belly-aching. Most of it was unintelligible, and you nearly wanted to cringe. Yeah, he was a great example of your taste in men. He had started going on and on about how he was sorry, and you nearly wanted to plug your ears. Scream until you couldn't hear him anymore. He was going on about how it was all a big mistake, but was it? Had it been? Wasn't the real mistake dating him in the first place? Your thoughts were quickly starting to spiral, and you tried to latch onto something else. So, you continued and said, "We broke up earlier in the week. I," You paused when you looked up at Severen, almost thinking that perhaps this wasn't something you should tell him just yet. So early in- whatever this was, you thought. But the way none of them tried to interrupt and how he continued to stare forced you to continue. "I caught him cheating." And, there, you watched as his blue eyes seemed to become two rings of fire. You'd never seen him angry, but you guessed that he was the type to have a quick temper. Or, at least, an expressive one.

"We have to get rid of him." Jesse said, but it was Caleb that added,

"Quietly. He's probably woken up half the trailer park by now." And you looked between the two. They seemed to be the most even tempered men of this family, but, neither of them had a clue as to how they would do that. You were about to offer that you could get rid of them when Severen cut you off.

"I've got just the brightest idea." And you watched as he shrugged off his leather jacket to lay on the table, threw his glasses on the table as well, and tucked his gun into the back of his pants. He pushed the chair out of the way, and headed straight for the door. Before he could open it, you quickly gestured for everyone else to head back towards the bedrooms. You watched as Severen straightened his hair, shook out his shoulders, and put on a smile while the five of them ducked back into the darkness of the hallway, guns drawn and eyes watching. You tucked yourself into the corner booth, so you'd be out of sight but could watch through a slit in the curtains. Severen unlocked and threw open the door, letting a cool,

"Evenin', friend." As he stared down into the surprised face of your ex. "I believe you have the wrong trailer." Severen continued when his mouth went slack with surprise. You watched as your ex looked over at the number, and then back at the brunette in your doorway. He rubbed his mouth, and then said,

"No, no. I'm looking," He paused to belch. "I'm looking for y/n. She's," He gestured to the number. "She's 24. She's my- She's my-" But he couldn't seem to get the words out. You looked over to see Severens smile falter. He was blocking the sight of you, but you could see him. It seemed as though your ex couldn't take a hint, but you decided to blame his drunken state. "Who are you?" Your ex thought to ask after a moment, nearly stumbling back as he looked him over. Severen leaned against the doorframe, putting a hand in his pocket.

"I'm the man that's been taking care of her the past few days." He said, an all too suggestive grin on his face. It was an easy lie, but it was one that hit the man opposite of Severen all at once. While he couldn't take a hint, it seemed that he could understand. "Severen." He added and held his hand out as if to shake, and you watched as your ex's face seemed to fill with anger. He pointed at the brunette, nearly grazing him with his finger as he said,

"Well, Severen, I wanna hear this from her." He said, and you barely whispered a curse. Of course he would, you thought. Severen shrugged, and then looked over at you. 

"Darlin'?" He called, but it was only for effect. You stood up from the booth, taking the exit closest to the kitchen and then sided up behind him. Now, this wasn't your usual state of dress, and it could definitely pass as home clothes. Severen wrapped an arm around your waist when you came to the doorway, and you had to lean against him in order to be visible. Severen didn't seem to mind, and gave your waist a squeeze. You looked at the pitiful man you'd once called your boyfriend, and stared down at his shocked expression.

"Yeah?" You asked, and he gaped like a fish for a moment. He looked between the two of you, and then said,

"Who the hell is this asshole? You- You replaced me? In a week?" And he had the gall to sound hurt. It seemed the confrontation with a man he'd never seen before had done him some good and sobered him up some. You glared at him, and crossed your arms over your chest. Now, you didn't want to have an argument with him in front of Severens family, but you needed him to leave. And preferably not come back in the morning. You whispered his name with a shake of your head and then said,

"I believe he told you who he was," You said, and you didn't tilt your head away when Severen brushed a hand over your cheek. It seemed he enjoyed milking this for all it was worth, and you didn't catch the grin on his face as he leaned in to press a kiss to the side of your head. You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment as Severens hand moved up to rub your shoulder and his kisses traveled down the expanse of your neck. It was nothing more than a couple of pecks, and he only continued when you didn't shrug him off the first time. The affection felt nice, almost nice enough to forget what had happened not even an hour before. But, even if you were mad at him, you knew you were doing your ex a favor. Your eyes fluttered back open. "You should leave." You told him, and that seemed to sober him up completely. He opened his mouth and took a step forward, but Severens hand dropped and he was halfway out the door. A hand placed on your ex's chest. It made your ex stop, and, after a stare down with Severen, he pulled out of his grip and turned back to look at you to say,

"You can't kick me out. I'm the one that pays rent for this place." He said, and you clicked your jaw. You'd been so angry the week before that he hadn't even tried to argue with you when you threw him and all of his things out of the trailer. It seemed that after talking with his drinking buddies, or perhaps the waitress, that he had remembered that.

"With a job my daddy found you." You snapped back, and that made him shut his trap quick. You dug further, forgetting that the audience you had was more than the man besides you. "And I'm not the one that screwed around. Why don't you go shack up with her, or did she kick you out too?" You threw the words in his face, and he took a step back from the weight of them. From the look on his face, you guessed that you might be right. Drinking buddies it was then. "Go sleep at your friends house or try the sheriff's department. They take drunks in all the time." You said, and Severen was quick to step back so you could snap the door closed. You locked it once again, and, after a moment of staring blankly at your door, he yelled,

"Well, how you gonna pay rent, huh? It's up in a week!" And you could practically hear your blood boiling in your ears. You couldn't stop yourself from yelling back,

"I'm not! You can have the freaking trailer back then!" And then you turned on your heels. The five vampires stuck in the hallway each pressed themselves against the wall to let you stalk back towards your room, and the sound of you slamming your bedroom door was heard even by your ex outside. Before your ex could get the final word, a neighbor yelled,

"Boy, leave the girl alone." Letting him, and everyone inside your trailer, know that they hadn't been the only ones who'd heard your spat. Finally, your ex retreated. Severen shook his head and laughed, letting out a little hoot before he looked at his family and said,

"She's a firecracker, ain't she?" 

[that-otome-potato]

Making Up for Lost Time

This was something I put together for a request sent to me by @lancermylove ages ago. Request: You don't have to do all or even any of the requests I'm sending in. XD Here's my other idea: Kokuyou and s/o grew up together in an orphanage. Kids were mistreated there and s/o was always targeted, but Kokuyou always stood up for her. I imagine kid!s/o not getting food and kid!kokuyou sharing his food with her. They stayed together even through their teen years and even got intimate (nsfw sprinkles, if you like)~. Then one day they had an argument over something at the old Starless, and she disappeared. Kokuyou thought he left her, but she was kidnapped. She was rescued by Kei or Sotetsu and ended up getting engaged to him. When she met Kokuyou, she didn't recognize him, much to his shock. The rest of it, I leave up to your creative mind~. <3 Pairing: Kokuyou x MC (name insert) Rating: NSFW - Explicit Warnings: Kidnapping, detailed sex scene. Note: I'M SORRY THIS IS 6 MONTHS LATE!! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! Read more to save space because this is a long one...

There were many things Kokuyou found himself regretting throughout his life.  Decisions he’d made only to find out he’d been wrong, actions that ended up hurting himself or others.  There were fights both physical and verbal, arguments that would lead to tears and wrinkled brows.

It was the same with his relations with __________, but it didn’t stop the passions the two of them had afterwards.  Perhaps that was why he sometimes started the heated arguments they would have, because it would often lead to him taking her against any flat surface he could find, the level of privacy depending on how fast he could steal her away from prying eyes.

The two of them had been friends since their days in an orphanage.  __________ was the new kid and some of the older boys were picking on her, stealing her food, the day he met __________.  It was survival of the fittest back in those days and there was something about the way her eyes peered into his, touching him soul deep even when both of them were so young, that drew Kokuyou to her.  He became her personal protector despite her protests.

Many years later, he had been walking down town, skipping school, when he came across a place he’d never seen before. Underneath an unreadable sign, there was a half hidden door that had been propped open. He shrugged and began walking past when he heard music coming from within.  Something about the style made his legs move towards the entrance.  Inside, it was dark all around the stage, but the stage itself? Lit up like the sun shining on snow covered ground in the middle of winter.

After being asked to join when Koharu had discovered him practicing along with the group on stage, Kokuyou brought ___________ in as a stagehand since she couldn’t be a part of the performers and he couldn’t bring himself to not have her near.

~A couple years later~

“Hey you!  Have you seen __________ anywhere?”

The stagehand smiled down at an older Kokuyou.  “Made her run off, have ya?  You two are always attached at the hip, but you sure argue a lot.”

Koharu raised her head up from the other side of the stage where she had been working on some decorations for the next show.  “I saw her run off towards the back door.”

Kokuyou turned to follow, but was stopped by a small hand on his bicep as he passed her. “Kokuyou, I know you’re young and have a lot of time for thoughts of the future, but I know how much __________ means to you.  You guys have been friends - and more - for over ten years.  I know you love this old place, but don’t you think it’s time to choose?  Starless or __________?”

Twenty-one year old Kokuyou threaded his fingers through his hair and released a huff.  “__________ wouldn’t ask me to do that, Koharu.  She loves this place almost as much as I do.”

“Then think of your future.  Is she in it?”

“What do you mean?  Don’t ask me such a stupid question.”

“You might want to remind her of that.  Especially when she sees other girls and women draped over you, night after night.  It’s why you fight more often than not, right?”

Kokuyou stared down at the older woman.  She looked worried about what was going on.  More so than usual.  He just shrugged it off, turning to go back to work.  “Koharu, you worry too much.  She always comes back, you’ll see.”

He rubbed a painful throbbing that had formed in his chest as he went to follow her.

~Six years later~

Kokuyou woke with a start as the memory of the day __________ had disappeared bore down on his subconscious.

She never came back.

He sat up and clutched his head to keep the memories from that time from taking over, but it never worked - they always blocked his vision of anything else until they had run their course.

The memory about how he had waited three days after not finding her in the alley, before he called her phone only to find out her number had been disconnected.  When he had gone to where she worked when not at Starless, they hadn’t seen her in as many days.

‘Must have really pissed her off this time.’ Kokuyou remembered thinking to himself after receiving the news from her job. Eventually, he had left that thought alone in the back of his head.  He’d pined silently for her, kicking himself for fucking up so bad because he never told her his feelings for her. Koharu had been right - it wasn’t his style, but he should have told her that she wasn’t just his fuck buddy and best friend.

All these years later, it was still one of his greatest regrets.  He just threw himself into Starless more after, trying to get past her loss. But it wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

At times like this, by himself in his room, he thought about her. His early life was filled with memories of her that played before his eyes now like a movie. How they’d met as kids, the time she had given him a black eye because he was new to teenage hormones and had said something she hadn’t liked.  How they grew up together, were each other’s first kiss. How they had acted on their attraction after he’d graduated, when she was in her third year of high school.

The memories from then on hurt him the most.

Those memories were softer, more intimate, where Kokuyou showed _________ what he felt for her with his body rather than with his words.  He told her how special she was to him when he would carry her bridal style to the bed they shared.

‘You are beautiful’ when he would place kisses all over her barred flesh.  ‘You are my world’ when he touched his lips to the heat between her legs, worshiping her as she deserved, making her cry out in pleasure.

‘I love you’ when he entered her slowly to set a steady pace he knew would set her body aflame with desire, his own always responding in kind.

‘I need you with me’ when, after their thirst for each other was quenched, he would face her in bed to take one of her hands and lace their fingers together and hold her tight against his larger body.

Now, Kokuyou rubbed his large hand over his face and flopped back onto his back in the bed they’d once shared.  He placed his hand on the side of the bed you had favored, spreading his fingers out as if seeking the heat you left there, long since gone.

His stomach clenched as the last days they had spent together returned.  How they had come together in a frenzy after a particularly intense rehearsal with the other guys.  The muscles of his lower belly tensed, the tip of his hard manhood weeping and begging for attention.

Kokuyou took himself in hand and began stroking, thinking about how __________’s lips used to feel around him, sucking him deep.  The way her body gripped him like a vice the closer she got to climaxing as she rode him hard and fast.  In mere moments, thoughts of their sexual activities over the years they were together brought about release, leaving thick streams over his skin and pooling in his bellybutton.

When his heart rate calmed again, he let out a ‘tch’ with disgust.  When would it end?  Why did no other woman he’d been with since then, haunt him like __________ did? Was it her spirit refusing to leave him alone?  He immediately cut that thought off.  He refused to believe anything happened to her that was irrevocable and meant they woudln’t meet again.  She was out in the world somewhere, living her best life away from Starless - away from him - and she was happy.

It had to be enough.

Kokuyou turned over to look at his phone charging on the bed next to him and saw he still had an hour before he had to get up.  He had to get his head in the game today - It was the first day of a new versus challenge, and his team was up against Rindou and his crew.

‘Might as well start warming up then’.  He thought to himself as he sat up once more, flinging his legs over the side of the bed to place his bare feet on the cold ground.

An hour later, he was at Starless.

~*~

After warming up with the rest of Team W and going over the performance one more time, Kokuyou and the rest of his team went into the locker room to change into their performance costumes.

“Has anyone else heard about Sotetsu’s lady friend?”

“Why?  That’s K stuff.”

Takami, who had asked the question, shrugged, his blood red eyes flashing with his smile.  “I bring it up simply because no one else has mentioned it. I felt the topic merited conversation.  Particularly since it’s Sotetsu.”

When he received a number of confused looks,  Takami released an exasperated breath. “There is no greater teaser of women in all the city than him.  What kind of woman is she to have gotten so close to him?”

‘__________ would have,’ Kokuyou’s thoughts wandered as he pulled his shoes on.  He ‘tsk’d, shaking his head to scatter such thoughts.

The small sound he had created caught Takami’s attention, drawing his studious gaze unbeknownst to him.

Hours later, the show having just finished, Kokuyou and the rest of that night’s performers were just finishing changing when Sotetsu poked his head in, still in his Wait staff attire.

“Everyone decent? V.I.P coming in.”

“V.I.P? What the fuck is he on about?” Kokuyou wasn’t expecting a reply, but got one from Sin.

“Sotetsu’s V.I.P.”

Kokuyou pushed his curiosity away.  That bastard’s friend had nothing to do with him.  He was just finishing packing his gym bag to head home, when he heard a voice that made his entire being freeze in place.  One he never thought he’d hear again.

‘It can’t be…' he thought to himself as he turned slowly, his brows furrowed deep as his crimson gaze honed in on Sotetsu before moving to the woman next to him.  He felt a gasp catch in his throat in its attempt to escape.

It was __________.  At first, he hoped his eyes were deceiving him, that his dreams from the night before were affecting his waking world, but Sotetsu introduced her by name and it was Kokuyou’s missing lover.

A look of displeasure became etched deeper and deeper on Kokuyou’s face.  What the hell was going on?  Where has __________ been for the last six years?  Why is she with Sotetsu of all people?  He wanted, needed, to know, but all the pain he felt after and since she disappeared came back in one fell swoop, making his chest hurt. Something he didn’t like at all and he felt the need to knead his chest muscles with his knuckles to relieve the tension.

When Sotetsu got to him with the introductions, her eyes widened then furrowed ever so slightly with a look of confusion. So, she recognized him.  There was infinitesimal relief at that information that had managed to get past his upset at her arrival.

Back out in the break area outside the locker room, Sotetsu left her with Team W so he could help his own team with something.  The moment Sotetsu was out of sight, but before his team could move in on her with their curiosity, Kokuyou strode over to her on long legs, gripped her upper arm with his strong hand, and dragged her towards the back alley.

She protested, but he barely felt it.

Once outside, he let her wrench herself away and she spun on him, hackles and fist raised in defense as she faced him like a cornered animal.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“I’d ask you the same thing, __________.  What are you doing here with Sotetsu?”

She bristled at his question.  “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.  I don’t even know you!”

Not much could shock Kokuyou.  But her words caused his body to cease any kind of movement and his eyes went wide.  Didn’t know him?  How was that fucking possible/  Sure, he’d changed a bit over the last six years, but they’d slept together for years before that.  No one could know him better than her.

Kokuyou reached out and clasped her shoulders to make her focus on him. “What do you mean, you don’t know me?”

__________ moved her arms to her front, as he’d taught her when they were younger, and quickly broke his hold on her before shoving the palm of one of her hands up into his nose.  Pain exploded from where she had hit him and he reared back.

“Motherfucker!” Kokuyou howled, his hands moving to cover his injured nose, relieved that it was somehow not bleeding.

“I mean, I don’t know who you fucking are beyond Sotetsu’s introduction, asshole.  Touch me again and I’ll kick your ass into next week.”

A sense of nostalgia came over Kokuyou as she stormed off back towards the others, the exact same way she had the last time they’d fought.

He needed to talk to Sotetsu since she likely wouldn’t speak to him any time soon after the way he acted.

~*~

The next day, Kokuyou found Sotetsu in the back alley taking a smoke break.  Kokuyou took out his own pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket as he sat on one of the stairs and pulled one out.  He cursed under his breath when he pat his pockets down for his lighter and it was missing.

He eyed Sotetsu for a moment. “Can I get a light?”

A moment later, Sotetsu flicked the tab on his zippo and it flared to life.  Kokuyou leaned forward, lit the end and took a drag of his cigarette before sighing.

“What’s on your mind, Kokuyou?” Kokuyou looked at the side of Sotetsu’s head from where he sat two steps up behind him and to Sotetsu’s right.

“That friend of yours…”

“What about her?”

“You know her past?”

Sotetsu released his own sigh, a wisp of smoke escaping and moving up into the sky. “Nah, though not for a lack of trying.  Why? Do you know something?”

‘Ever the info broker.’ Kokuyou simply shrugged.  “Knew her back in the day.  Doesn’t remember me though."

Sotetsu looked at him from over his shoulder for a few moments.  Kokuyou could feel his limbs twitch under the other man’s gaze. Kokuyou readied himself to decline any further questioning the other man may want to perform, but Sotetsu just shrugged and focused his golden gaze forward.

“Want me to talk to her?”

Kokuyou frowned.  “Why? What would be in it for you?”

Sotetsu took another drag from his cigarette, released the smoke, and smiled at nothing before him.  “For entertainment’s sake, of course.”

Kokuyou just rolled his eyes, causing the other man to chuckle. “I’ll be straight with you, Kokuyou.  It’s more than entertainment.  She’s my friend and I want her to be happy.  She is also a nut I’ve been unable to crack since I met her because she doesn’t remember her childhood.”

This caught Kokuyou’s attention. “She doesn’t remember anything?”

“Yeah.  I’ve tried asking her about her past, but when she doesn’t avoid the subject altogether by talking around it, she unintentionally alludes to not knowing things.  Even her birthday.”

Without even realizing it, Kokuyou blurted out her birthday, then immediately pursed his lips tight to keep from offering the other man anything else. Sotetsu just smirked.

“Thanks for that.  Now I know when to celebrate.  To repay you for the date, a little info for info.  Over the last year that I’ve known her, I’ve gotten two impressions from her: Something traumatic happened to her and that she cared deeply for someone from her past.  Since you say you knew her once, maybe you’ll be able to help her regain her memory.”

Kokuyou watched Sotetsu stand to go back inside before turning back to stare into the alley behind the shop.

“Oh, and Kokuyou?” Kokuyou looked up at him again.  “If you hurt her, I will insist on a rematch between us. Next time, I won’t lose to you. More will be at stake than my pride.”

A scoff escaped his lips at the brunette’s boastful proclamation. He had learned his lesson when she had disappeared the first time.  He wouldn’t let his anger get the better of him again. At least he’d try not to. ‘Memory loss, huh? Makes sense now.’

The question he really needed to ask was after how he’d spoken to her earlier, would she listen?

~*~

Several days later…

“Kokuyou? Sotetsu said you wanted to talk about something? He said you might be able to help me find out about my past.”

‘Meddlesome asshole…’ Kokuyou sighed when he heard __________’s voice.  Though he had a few other choice titles to bestow the Team K member, he was also a little happy for the other man’s help.

Several days had passed since Sotetsu’s introduction.  In that time, __________ had only been back once and when she had been here, it had felt as if she had been avoiding him the whole time.  Honestly, he couldn’t blame her after the way he’d grabbed her - his nose still ached.  So when he watched her approach him now from under the table he was at, he couldn’t help but feel a little leery on the inside.

“Yeah, I know about your past.  Are you sure you want to know?  That you’re ready?”  A nod from her made him pause as he finished repairing the table in the audience area, then moved until he could look up at her.

She stood above him, arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up enticingly, yet he noted the way her hands gripped the elbow of the opposite arms. She gave off an air of being strong and in charge with her words, but her actions spoke of anxiety and fear. Of what he might tell her in answer?  Understandably, but this wasn’t the same woman he knew before she disappeared.  What happened to her?

Kokuyou stood up from the floor and pulled a chair out.  He set it backwards against the table, flung a leg over the side and sat, crossing his arms over the back before looking at her. He tilted his head towards the chair next to him indicating she should sit down, which she reluctantly did, never releasing the hold she had on herself.

“What do you wanna know?”

__________ looked down at the top of the old, chipped, wooden table before looking back up at him with determination.  “Where am I from? How do you know me?”

Kokuyou scratched his chin as he looked at her, then nodded when that determination remained.  “You came to the orphanage that I’d been living in when I was, oh, eight or so.  You were six. Don’t know why you got left there, never asked.  Didn’t even notice you at first until one of the other kids in my age group and his crew started picking on you.”

He carded his fingers through his blood red locks and let out a sigh.  “Dunno why, but I felt compelled to help you with them.  Even after they stopped bothering you all together, I couldn’t bring myself to stop trying to protect you.  There was just something about you that drew me in and I didn't want to leave.  You were fun, witty, smart.  We were friends until I was nineteen and you were seventeen."

"Is that when I lost my memory?"

'Should I tell her we were sleeping together?' Kokuyou asked himself, looking away for the first time since he started.

"Kokuyou?  What happened next?"

He released a sigh.  After she had disappeared, he had sworn to himself that if she ever returned, he'd never lie to her and would put her first. But how do you tell someone who'd lost their memory that you used to fuck?

"Our friendship remained, it just...evolved to something more."

"More? As in..." Kokuyou turned to face her, red eyes locking on hers and refusing to release.  Her cheeks colored a pretty shade of dark pink and that told him she'd caught onto his meaning.  "I...I see."

One of Kokuyou's dark eyebrows shot up nearly to his scarlet hair.  "You believe me?" __________ nodded.  "Why?  Because of your lost memory, we may as well have just met.  Everything I just told you could have been a lie."

She just nodded.  "You're right about that.  I don't know.  Something about seeing you makes my stomach feel strange but not in a bad way.  Perhaps it's similar to your story about how we met?  Besides, you're the only one who's made me feel like that and gave me some form of answers about my past.  Not even Sotetsu could help me find out about my past. All though, he probably could have complied an entire history on me if I knew my last name, birthdate, etc."  She continued staring at him, any trace of her previous blush was gone.

"Trusting you feels right."

Her last words were like a punch in the gut because she had said something like that when they were kids.  "You've said that to me before." Kokuyou felt a small, soft smile form unbidden on his lips.

__________ gave him a look of surprise for no longer than the blink of an eye before scooting her chair closer to his and placing her smaller hands on either side of his face to make him focus on her. An awkward moment followed where she stared deep into his wide eyes as if trying desperately to find something hidden in their depths.

What was she looking for? Could she see the answers she sought in his eyes? Could she see his last memories of her, with her back facing him as she stormed off, playing back over and over in his head over the years? How that thought, and the accompanying regret, haunted him until this day?  The regret he felt for not going after that day and how he took for granted that she would always return?

A shorter version of __________'s name escaped his lips, deep and raspy, as if he'd spent too much time in the smoke surrounding a campfire - like sandpaper on wood on a humid summer day. A tone and texture reserved for the bedroom when two lovers are in the midst of passions, when sugar sweet words get whispered between them. A voice that only she had ever caused him to use - no woman since had done so.

He watched as her eyebrows flew up under her bangs in surprise, followed by a slight pinkening of her cheeks, before her brow scrunched hard as if in deep thought.  A grunt of pain escaped her when she looked to the side while still clutching his face.  Kokuyou reached up to gently hold both of her wrists in his hands, concern flooding him. "__________?  What's wrong?"

In a snap, her eyes went wide and she shoved herself away from him despitehis grip on her.  She covered her mouth with her hands as she sent herself flying back in her chair.  Kokuyou moved with her in reflex, to catch her so she wouldn't hit her head on the polished concrete floor.  He managed to wrap himself around her, her neck in the crook of his arm and his other arm around her waist, as they fell to the floor with a crash of chairs and tables he'd hit on their way down.

Once they'd settled again on the floor, Kokuyou shifted so he was looking down at her in concern.  He wanted to chuckle because she'd managed to keep her hands cupped over her mouth and eyes tightly shut during the entire situation, but he didn't feel the time was right.

When he heard the sound of multiple sets of feet rushing over, all expressing shock and concern at the cacophony the two of them had made, Kokuyou waved them off, assuring them everything was okay and that he'd teased her too much.

As soon as their audience had vacated - Kokuyou could still feel Sotetsu's eyes on him - he used his hand not under her to show her rare tenderness when he brought his hand up to stroke her cheek with his palm, moving strands of her hair from her face.

"You good?  What was that?"

His focus honed in on her when he felt her whole body shiver at his touch.  The sensation was achingly familiar to him from their days as lovers.

After a few moments of silence, __________ sighed.  "Kokuyou? Did we argue a lot... before?" Kokuyou grunted his confirmation as he paused his hands movement on the side of her face.

"I...I think...I see..." She uncovered her face and looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  Hope dared to flare in his heart at the flicker of recognition growing in her eyes.

Kokuyou quickly sat up, bringing __________ with him, never taking his eyes off of her. "Do you remember something?"

She cast her gaze around as if with new eyes, then they landed on him and she smiled before wrapping her arms around him.  When she pulled herself close to his pierced ear, she whispered, "I remember everything."

Kokuyou turned his head to stare at her in shock.  She remembered everything? "Everything?"

__________ nodded. "I remember how I stormed off after our fight.  I'm sorry I'm so late coming back."

He turned away from her and wrapped his strong arms around her tight. "Stupid, you don't need to apologize for that. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," he growled into her shoulder, pressing his nose to her shirt, taking in her familiar sweet scent.

She nuzzled her nose into his neck, her hot breath on his flesh sending chills down his spine. "If I'm not allowed to apologize, neither are you."

They embraced for a time, not nearly enough to make up for their six-year separation, before Kokuyou pulled away enough to look into her shining eyes.  He tilted his head slightly in question as to why her eyes were watering and she chuckled. __________ just shook her head.

"You look older than I remember." This made Kokuyou grown playfully at her before huffing.

"You haven't changed a bit."

There was so much he wanted, needed, to say. So much he should have told her before she disappeared for six years.  But no words came forward.

"Let's go to my place.  Can't talk here." ___________ nodded immediately and they left the shop, hand-in-hand.

~*~

After being attacked by two dozen gazes of differing emotions as they left Starless, Kokuyou and __________ were back at his place in no time.

Kokuyou watched her as she walked around the small apartment;  eyes taking in every detail she could see aorund her, soft fingers trailing along every surface she came in contact with to feel familiar textures.  He could hear her take in scens around her with happy little hums.

"Nothing's changed? In all this time?"

Kokuyou's shoulders lifted and he gave her a look of indifference.  "Been busy at Starless and keeping Mizuki out of trouble."

Things instantly quieted and he knew why - his dedication to Starless.  The reason for their arguments.  He knew it was a problem he'd had from the beginning, but he wasn't going to change.  She had known that, yet it had been upsetting to her enough to storm off where it wasn't safe, leading to her getting caught by an unknown enemy.

"Sotetsu mentioned him.  Team B's leader, right?" Kokuyou nodded.  He felt everything inside him freeze and heat up at the same time when __________ returned to stnd before him. She gently placed her smaller hand on his chest, the heat of her touch seeping into him, thawing the ice that had formed in her absence.

She looked up at Kokuyou again for a moment tht felt like an eternity. "I was wrong."

When he looked at her in confusion again, she smiled softly at him.  "You've changed.  You've become even more handsome than I remember." After she gave her words time to sink in to his thoughts, she offered him a frown to match his own.

"Kokuyou, I have to ask:  After everything that's happened over the last six years, could there ever be an 'us' again?  Even when my memory was taken from me, my heart never belonged to another.  But I don't know if you feel the same."

He didn't know what to say in reply.  So many years has passed - faceless women, places, events - she had been like a phantom, a wraith, in the back of his mind, coming forward in his times alone where dark thoughts took over and when he needed release.  No one had replaced her in his heart. Yet she was the one asking about a potential future, a continuation of what they'd had before.

This had to be a dream.

His depraved mind was playing tricks on him again, making him think she'd returned.  He was still asleep in his bed - had to be.  Her scent, the feeling of her skin, her body against his, all figments of his imagination. If he was right, and this was his mind giving him a sight he'd longed for for so long, then he was going to enjoy it. If it turned out he was completely mad, then so be it.

Without uttering another word, Kokuyou placed his hands on both sides of her jaw and drew her into a deep, passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue past her lips when she gasped in surprise, to tangle his tongue with her own.

It didn't take her long to recover before melting into his kiss, pressing her body against his as if she couldn't get close enough.  It felt familiar, this kiss.  It felt like home. It felt different, too - the six year gap lending their meeting of lips a sense of newness.

Kokuyou moaned into her mouth that scorched him like the sun when she took his tongue between her sucked hard on it, reminding him of more things her talented mouth could do.

His hands trailed down her arms, her sides, pausing at the hem of her shirt, placing his thumbs under the cloth to touch the skin of her belly.  He marveled at the feeling;  Soft as velvet covering firm muscle, heating up under his finger the longer his hand lingered there.  He pulled away, their lips smacking at the separation, and he looked into her eyes.  Half-lidded, heady desire gazed back.

"Koku -"

Kokuyou felt a sound rumbling in his chest at the use of the shortened version of his name she had started calling him as children, something only she had been allowed to do.

Slanting his lips across hers, he took them hungrily once more.  He gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled away long enough to jerk the offending fabric over her head and allow her to do the same to his red sleeveless shirt, both articles of clothing flying off somewhere else in the room.

His lips were instantly back on her skin, attacking her neck this time and tasting the sweat that was leaving her flesh shining and making his mouth water.  He was spurred on by her deep groans and breathy moans, especially when she latched on to leave a petal-shaped mark on her neck, under her earlobe.

Through the fog of arousal currently clouding his vision and thoughts, he felt her hands touching his hard chest, curling her fingers slightly to leave red lines on his tanned flesh.  Without warning and with surprising strength, she pushed against him hard enough for him to fall back on the bed.  He looked up at her in surprise as she immediately jumped onto him to straddle his hips, his arousal pressing against the zipper of his jeans to nestle comfortably in her cleft through her cloth pants. He gripped her hips with his large hands to steady her, relishing in the feel of her body on his in such an intimate way.

Kokuyou had to choke back a moan as __________ began rocking her hips back and forth along his clothed shaft, her body undulating like a wave in the ocean. His hands moved from her hips, up her torso under her shirt, to cup her breasts through her bra, feeling her pebbled nipples against his palms.  __________ didn't seem satisfied when he didn't squeeze her breasts, so she placed her hands over his and made his hands grip them harder without ceasing how her hips were moving over him.

"Fuck, _________, you been practicing?  Where did you learn this?" Kokuyou panted out as he took her nipples between his calloused thumb and index fingers, rolling them with his digits.

"I've always been lusty, I'm remembering. Might have seen this on a vid or two and wanted to try it but no guy over the last few years has been the right one.  Not Sotetsu, either, though he expressed interest." She let her voice trail away as the quiet was filled with panted breath and the rustling of clothes.  Then she looked at him and stopped moving all together. "So Koku, when are you going to fuck me?"

Kokuyou blinked up at her in surprise before smirking.  He sat up straight, wrapped his strong arm around her waist and flipped them over so he was looming over her.  He used his arm around her to move her further onto the bed, then he used his free hand to pull her bottoms off, the heat from their activity burning him from the inside out, flaring hotter when he found she wasn't wearing panties.

He raised one dark eyebrow in question towards her.  All she did was shrug.  Kokuyou chuckled and finished removing her bottoms, leaving nips and kisses on the revealed skin of her body and lower.  Pants cast elsewhere, he pressed his middle and ring fingers against her entrance, finding no resistance from the level of arousal she was feeling. Pride filled his chest when her body shivered from the top of her head to the tips of her cute toes.  A rumble escaped him from deep in his chest, his body moving down and curling to place his lips on her sensitive bud above where his fingers were sliding in and out of her body.

__________ reached into his hair, gripping the crimson strands hard and holding him closer as he devoured her, drinking down the sounds she was making and the desire pooling between her legs.

"K...Koku, wait.  I... I want..."

Kokuyou released her clit with a wet pop before looking up at her while licking his lips clean of her sweet essence. He smirked at the sight of her eyes dialating with desire and following his tongue along his lower lip.

"What do you want, __________?" He eagerly awaited her answer with a smirk as he continued slowly moving his finger within her, scissoring them to stretch her for him so she couldn't feel pain.

She used her grip on his short hair to pull him up so she could take his lips that shone in the dim light of the room, tasting her arousal on him.  "I want to fuck like we have six years to make up for and not a lot of time to do it."

Kokuyou nearly choked in surprise as her words caused an intense shot of arousal straight to his groin.  "That can be arranged."

He almost didn't recognize his own voice for how much deeper and raspier it was with his desire.

Kokuyou sat back, __________ moving with him, and together they removed his pants and boxers lightning fast. __________ fell back on the bed again, Kokuyou falling on her, their torsos gliding against each other easily from the sheen of sweat on both of them.  As he moved forward to kiss her again, he hooked both of her knees with his hands, pressing her knees up near her shoulders, his shaft drawn towards her heat as if controlled by magnets.  With one easy snap of his hips forward, he was completely sheathed inside her.  __________ called out and he looked towards her in concern, thinking he'd hurt her somehow, but all he saw was her flushed face and blown pupils.

__________ reached around her sides to grip his hips when he didn't move once inside her, and dug her blunt nails into his skin and growled in frustration.

"Come on, Koku.  Show me how you've changed.  Unless you've gotten rusty..."

A bark of a laugh, rare in sound and form, escaped him at her challenge. "Damn, woman, gimme a sec.  It's been a while since I've felt this good being with someone.  Couldn't have things end too soon, right?"

"Like at the school festival my final year of high school?"

Kokuyou frowned at her before giving her a punishing thrust and smirking at her gasp.  "Why didja ahve to bring that up now?  I'm gonna have to prove myself now." __________ started giggling until Kokuyou pulled his hips back again and plunged back into her hot depths  and she gasped again, reaching for his forearms to leave rescent marks on his taught, tanned flesh. The marks darkening when he rubbed the crown of his manhood along a particularly sensitive spot within her body.

Over the next several minutes, with his hands holding her hips steady, while the speed at which Kokuyou moved within __________ increased, making her quiet gasps turn into shouts of pleasure.

Kokuyou could feel her body tightening, forming a vice grip around him.  He trailed a finger from her hips to her belly button, up between her breasts and across her collarbone, with a feather-light touch even as he conintued his near punishing pace. While the one had was moving up behind her neck, his other hand moved between them where their bodies were joined, to rub little circles around her clit. He was determined to make her find release twice before he found his own.  At least at first - the night was still young.  His pride demanded it after her comment earlier.

Before he knew it,  he had __________ screaming her release, drawing blood from where she had latched onto his arm with her nails. Kokuyou paused for a moment to be sure he wouldn't be following her in her bliss, but he didn't quit his ministrations on her body, doing what he could to keep her orgasm going.

"That's one." He smirked at __________ and, before she could say anything or protest, he flipped her over onto her stomach, pulled her up by her hips so she was on her hands and knees, then re-entered her body and receiving a cry of surprise.

"O-one? One what? Orgasm?  How many are you planning to pull out of me!?"

"You're talking too much.  Seems like I'm not doing my job right, keeping anything but gasps and moans from leaving those sexy lips."

___________ turned to look at him from over her shoulder, lips slightly parted as she panted for breath.  Kokuyou leaned over her to probe those pouty lips with his fingers until she opened fully for him, running her tongue over his digits, tasting herself on his skin.

Kokuyou used the anchor he had of his fingers in her mouth.  He gently tugged back until she was on her knees, her back to his front, his manhood still buried deep inside her.  __________ made a noise of confusion past his fingers, but it soon melted into a heady groan as he began moving once more, hitting spots inside her she didn't know she had. He offered a groan of his own when he felt her wet heat squeeze him.  He leaned in to press his lips to her ear at the same time he placed his free hand on her lower belly with his fingers splayed to cover more space.

"You still affect me the same way you did before. The way you move, the way you talk, how you sound when we're fucking, how you touch me and I, you. If anything, you have an even greater affect on me now than ever before.  I just wanna stay right where I'm at forever, even after both of our bodies collapse from exhaustion." She reached up with one hand to pull his fingers from her mouth.  "You...nng...may get your...aah!...wish, Koku."

From constant stimulation from his movement, even after he made her come once, he could feel her muscles contracting around him again and could feel a vibration wracking her body.  His glutes tensed when she grabbed his ass with her other hand. "Have I brought you close to falling apart again already?" His whispered words against her ear made her shaking intensify, his pistoning hips moving faster, chasing his own climax still with her help.

"What do you think?  Now give it to me harder, Koku.  I won't break."

Kokuyou sighed heavily at her words, feeling them course through him like a drug shot straight into his veins.  He pushed her back down on to the bed, took both sides her hips into his hands again, and proceeded to drill into her at a punishing pace, sweat falling from his temples in rivulets, dripping down his sculpted torso to mix with her arousal on his cock as he moved.

Several choice curse words escaped his lips when her body gripped him tighter and tighter with her impending release.  He could feel his own crawling up his shaft with each second he held back. "I can feel you getting close, you're gripping me so tight.  Making it hard to hold back."

"Then don't hold back."

"Sure..." he panted, brows furrowed in concentration and his long, strong fingers moving to her nub once more to apply pressure to help her reach her end.

All it took was a few passes of his rough finger tips on her sensitive flesh for her to scream her release, soaking him and the sheets beneath her.  Kokuyou waited as long as he could after she climaxed before following her into the oblivion of release, pulling out just before his orgasm exploded from him in thick, white streams over her shapely ass and back.

He slowly leaned over her back and bit on her shoulder gently, affectionately, before collapsing onto his side next to her, pulling __________ in close - her back to his front while they caught their breaths.  When they had calmed, __________ turned over in his arms to wrap one of her own around him.  Kokuyou looked down at her the same time she looked up and they shared a tender kiss.

"That was better than I remember.  You've been practicing?"  Kokuyou wasn't sure how to answer her.  Tell her the truth or shake it off? Distract her with more loving as he'd planned and promised?  She gave him an out before he could decide.  "It's ok, you know.  We weren't together.  I probably would have never remembered you if we hadn't met again."

"Yea, I practiced a bit, but they weren't you, so it wasn't the same." He let silence fall between them before asking what he had wanted to since she walked in the door with Sotetsu. "I have to ask... what happened when you disappeared?"

She cast her gaze down to stare at his collarbone while he maneuvered them around to take her hand not already on him and laced their fingers together.  "I... was grabbed and knocked out in the alley.  I remember fighting my attackers, but ultimately failed. Woke up in a glass box with breathing holes, wearing a hospital gown.  No one spoke to me directly though there were other people around.  I screamed at them to let me go, I screamed for you to find and save me, for someone to release me.  I screamed so much that I lost my voice for a time. That's when they would take me to a room with a surgical table with monitors all around, strap me down and hook me up to those machines.

"Then the whispers started and my memories of anything before that day began to fade as if they never existed.  There were a couple times I almost remembered, but then they would play a song and it'd disappear again.  I don't know how they did it or why,  but I'm not sure I want to know now. What if it makes me forget again?"

Kokuyou pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.  "Things are different now.  I'll protect you better this time."

__________ nuzzled against his bare chest and sighed contentedly, as if she had been waiting to hear him say that forever.  "I love you, Kokuyou."

His heart gave a heavy thump.  She'd said it when they were younger, but it'd been so long ago, he'd started wondering if it was fabricated by his mind.  Then Koharu's words from the day __________ had disappeared came to him about reminding __________ how he felt. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

"I Lo..."

"Oi! Kokuyou!  Where the hell are ya, big bro?  You ran off without finishin' ya shift!"

Kokuyou grumbled about kids interrupting things under his breath and __________ giggled.  They heard Mizuki pause, obviously listening because he'd heard something.

His hearing was becoming more canine, because from the outside of Kokuyou's bedroom, he shouted, "__________ is with ya? Wacha doin'? Fuckin'?"

Kokuyou shot out of bed and pulled on the pants he'd worn to Starless that day, hurrying to his door before the kid could barge in and see __________ in her state of undress.

"I'm about to beat some manners into him, I swear." He growled, making __________ laugh as he exited his room and coming face to face with the younger man.

Mizuki did his best to try to see past Kokuyou, who was blocking the open door, but Kokuyou gently cuffed him on the side of the head, earning the younger man's ire.

"Wacha do that for!? I was just curious."

"Too curious." Mizuki just glared at him. "Yeah, that's __________.  It's a long story I ain't gonna tell ya right now, so leave it."

"Yeah, yeah," Mizuki rolled his golden eyes and went up on the tips of his toes to call out past Kokuyou's shoulder.  "Sorry __________!"

"It's ok, Mizuki." __________ came up behind Kokuyou wearing one of his shirts, exhibiting no shame in her lack of clothing.

Mizuki blushed slightly when he saw her then looked at Kokuyou for an answer.  "We dated when we were younger and were catching up."

"Catching up while naked?" Kokuyou saw the disbelief on his face and made his hand into a fist again.

"What if it, kid?"

"Koku, be nice.  He was worried when you left the shop suddenly." Mizuki's eyes went wide at her use of the short version of his name.  Kokuyou saw this and glared at Team B's leader.

"Don't go gettin' ideas. Only she gets to call me that."

Mizuki shrugged and looked at __________. "So, did ya 'catch up'?" Mizuki added air quotes to the last words with his fingers.

"That's gonna be a work in progress.  I haven't seen Kokuyou in a few years."

"So ya gonna be 'round for a while?"

"Yup.  That ok?"

Mizuki rolled his eyes again as if that was the dumbest question seh could ask.  "Of course.  Just don't disappear again."

"Can do!" she replied returning the fist bumb he offered her.

Satisfied, Mizuki turned away from the room and went into the small open kitchen, grabbed something in the refridgerator and gave it a sniff for freshness and a soda, then left out the front door.

There were several moments of silence as both Kokuyou and __________ stared at the front door where Mizuki had left out of.

"So.  Think he'll be back sometime before midnight?"

"Possibly.  He's probably hanging out with his team, planning the next event."

"We have the apartment to ourselves again."

"Yup."

"Wanna pick up where we left off?"

"Hell yeah!"

__________ quickly moved behind Kokuyou, reared back her open palm and slapped Kokuyou on his ass before running into the bedroom with cackling laughter.

"Oh you're gonna get it now, woman." Kokuyou smirked as he quickly followed her, both collapsing onto the bed together to pick up where they left off in their goal of making up for the last six years separation.

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

[sparkkeyper]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Word Count: 3,797

Warnings: None    

Summary: Old habits die hard. Crowley and Aziraphale’s habits are very, very old. Building their own side is difficult when 6000 years of instincts won’t shut up. 

(Originally very loosely-based on the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" but then it kind of did its own thing, haha. I was originally going to post this for Advent  Omens but uhhh you can see that didn’t quite happen. Written as ace but you can read it however you want, really. Guess what fools, it’s Soft Boi hours again!)

(Now on AO3!)

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The snow had started early in the day. When Aziraphale arrived at the Mayfair flat it was just a dusting. But the flurry had become a proper snowfall, and then quickly decided 'go big or go home' and transitioned into a flat-out storm.

This didn't phase the two immortals in the slightest, of course. If anything, the swirling flakes outside made it feel even cozier inside. Crowley's sleek, minimalist flat had grown a fireplace for the occasion, and a very surprised new chimney on the roof of the building found itself venting smoke that somehow managed to bypass three floors.

They sat together on the plush sofa (obtained at Aziraphale's insistence several months prior, on the grounds that he wasn't going to continue coming over if there was nowhere comfortable to sit, and Crowley couldn't have that) and drank wine and talked and laughed and reveled in the feeling of being cozy and warm on a cold, blustery day.

Time had traveled on in the usual manner since Armageddon failed to happen. The two of them were unwinding slowly. Thousands of years of looking over shoulders did not evaporate in an evening, benevolent Antichrist or no, and 'our side' was a concept they were still carefully exploring. But what a glorious exploration it was.

There was no limit to the amount of time they could spend together. It was a dizzying concept that they were both adjusting to, but one that carried a thrill through it all the same. Crowley had been sorely tempted to buy tickets to every concert, play, and musical revue London had to offer and do nothing but attend shows for the foreseeable future, the two of them together. In public. He very well might have done too, if Aziraphale hadn't talked him down amid giddy chuckles. "We have time," Aziraphale had reminded him, and Crowley was ecstatic to realize that it was true.

He had relented to two a week.

It was elating. They stood closer together, they sat beside each other on public transportation rather than one behind the other, they gave each other teasing nudges with elbows.

And sometimes - when they were both at least a bottle in - one of them might even bump their hand against the other's, and fingers might intertwine, and an electric tingle would flood Crowley like a live thing, and most importantly neither would pull away for at least two solid minutes and oh wasn't that alone worth saving the world for?

Crowley spent a previously-unheard-of amount of time at the bookshop and Aziraphale's face always lit up like the sun whenever he walked in. He arrived early, stayed late, sometimes didn't bother going home at all, often showed up with wine or snacks, and they were together and it was wonderful. He had fallen asleep on the bookshop couch in the past, but these months he got the impression that Aziraphale had zoned the piece of furniture as specifically his. There was a permanent place set aside for him in Aziraphale's home, in Aziraphale's life. It made a warmth pool in his stomach to think about it despite the creeping winter chill.

Aziraphale had begun to visit Crowley's flat in return. The angel had never once set foot in the place until the night after the airfield - Crowley had never given him the address, to be fair - but now that permission had been granted Aziraphale was here increasingly often. It was so like the easy evenings at the bookshop, just with more austere surroundings. Music, alcohol, debates and memories and slightly drunken speculation. The occasional temporary twining of fingers. It was good.

It was overwhelming sometimes, this new 'good'.

Aziraphale always left the flat at the end of the evening, usually around ten. He had no reservations whatsoever about chatting until dawn in the bookshop but the flat was a new environment, Crowley supposed. Possibly something to do with propriety.

Possibly something to do with thousands of years of distance that they were both still figuring out how to cross.

But that was Aziraphale, all right: as slow and steady as a glacier when it came to his set, comfortable ways. So much had changed in the past few months and the angel had had to adapt quickly. Crowley didn't begrudge him taking a few things slow. Old habits were hard to break and their habits were very, very old.

Crowley understood well how shadows could linger even in the bright daylight. It was all well and good to say he was off Hell's payroll. It was another thing entirely when instinct crept up on him screaming that he needed to watch his back, to sit a row behind Aziraphale on the bus, to have forty excuses ready for when Dagon came auditing. It took considerable effort to override those instincts and remind himself that 'together' was okay. It was allowed. And still he'd so far only managed to turn the volume down on them, not silence them completely. He didn't know if he ever would. Crowley didn't doubt Aziraphale had similar instincts of his own. If the angel felt better setting himself a curfew, Crowley certainly wasn't going to judge.

But tonight they were here, and warm, and sheltered from the blizzard. As 'retro' had begun to slide back into style, Crowley had picked up a sleek addition to his stereo system that was at once a record turntable, radio, tape deck, and CD player, with added Bluetooth capability for good measure. Strains of Vivaldi swam through the room from a vinyl, mingling with the crackling of the fire and the clinking of wine glasses. Aziraphale was settled deeply into the sofa, his posture several steps short of perfect which was how Crowley knew he was truly relaxed. Crowley, as per usual, was draped over the couch like he'd never seen one before in his life, as though he had too many limbs and didn't know what to do with them all. It was good.

Life was good.

It was a little after ten when Aziraphale spoke up. "It's getting late." His voice was a bit distant as he looked out the window, snow glinting in the reflected light as it fell. "I suppose I ought to be going."

There was a note of regret to his voice, a lack of conviction in his eyes, that Crowley had learned to read over the long years of the Arrangement. A smile pulled at the corner of the demon's mouth, covered up easily by another sip of wine. It was a very old game they played, treading carefully along the outside edges of things that could not or should not be said aloud. Expectations, angelic ones in particular, built a lot of barriers. Aziraphale wanted something that wasn't allowed him - or wasn't supposed to be allowed him - and couldn't bring himself to reach out and grasp it. It was Crowley's job to find ways for him to justify the forbidden something to himself.

In the subtle language they shared, the angel was asking Crowley to tempt him, and how could Crowley pass up a request like that?

"Awfully cold out there," the demon drawled, gesturing languidly toward the window with his wine glass. "Snowing like nobody's business. Wind and ice and subzero chill. Terrible night to be out in."

"I'm sure it's not so bad."

"Not so bad? It's been raging for hours! Look at it! It's knee-high! You expect me to try and drive my poor car out in that mess?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon. "Ah yes. Imagine if humans invented other forms of transportation aside from your horrid car."

The demon's argument was all bluff and they both knew it. The Bentley could slice through the snowdrifts like a hot knife through butter if Crowley wanted it to. It wasn't the strength of the argument that mattered - it was whether or not Aziraphale could twist it to bypass the metaphorical roadblocks. Crowley rose to the challenge by sprawling back on the sofa with a smirk. "Other forms of transportation? You mean a bus, in weather like that? And good luck finding a cab out there, angel. City's practically shut down."

Aziraphale stood, giving his back a tentative stretch. "I could walk, of course. I've done it loads of times. It doesn't take much more than twenty minutes, not counting the care that has to be taken for ice."

"Walk, he says!" Crowley tossed back the remainder of his wine like a shot glass. "Think of it - the first angel in history to catch pneumonia! Bad job I'm not working for Hell anymore; they'd give me an award!"

"If doing those temptations in Qashliq for you didn't give me pneumonia, I'm quite sure nothing will."

"Are you ever going to let that go? It was over four hundred years ago!"

"It was February in Siberia, no I will not."

"Suppose you did stay a bit longer," Crowley ventured, changing tactics. It was a risk, coming at the problem from such a direct angle when they were both so used to ghosting along edges. "Bookshop wouldn't go anywhere, would it?"

Aziraphale blinked at the abrupt transition. "Well no, I shouldn't think so. It's just...I mean if I don't return home someone might notice of course and well...people will talk."

Crowley leaned forward over his knees, seriously. "Angel. When, in two hundred years in that bookshop, have you ever given a single fuck what your human neighbours think?"

Aziraphale drew himself up with a huff, and Crowley was delighted to see familiar indignation winning out over nerves. "I am an upstanding member of the community, I'll have you know. And it's not just my neighbours, of course - it's yours as well. That little old lady who lives on the floor below, for example. She always gives me that look when I pass her in the lift."

"What look?"

"You know! That look! Like she thinks she knows what's going on between the two of us."

The demon grinned like a Cheshire cat and gave a suggestive wiggle of his shoulders just for the expression it painted across the angel's face. "You're worried that my neighbours are going to think you and I took a tumble in the sheets?"

"They already suspect! Or at least she suspects." Aziraphale was trying so hard to keep a straight face, but mirth glinted behind his eyes. "Do you know what she said to me as she was getting out of the lift the other day? 'Don't forget to use protection; you don't know where he's been!'"

Crowley howled, leaning so far back in his laughter that he fell off the couch.

"I don't know what's more outlandish, the idea that we're in here having a lurid physical affair or the idea that I don't know exactly where you've been."

Crowley wiped his eyes dry and held out a hand so the angel could help pull him up from the floor. "Remind me to miracle her fridge so that all her milk keeps past its date. 'Don't know where he's been' indeed."

Aziraphale fought to get his own smile under control, for the sake of his argument if nothing else. "Yes, but it just goes to show, Crowley, people do notice. And they will talk, I'm sure of it."

"Let them," he waved it off. "I've seen tissue paper with more durability than human gossip. It'll all get forgotten in a day or two." Crowley leaned over and refilled both glasses.

"Right. I suppose it will." The angel took a tentative sip and sat back into the sofa again. "Silly thing to get worked up about, really."

On a regular night that might have been the end of it. They'd had their verbal tennis, they'd had a laugh, and Aziraphale had accepted another drink. But try as he might, the angel couldn't seem to settle. There was a stiffness, a tension to his spine that would not unwind. He fidgeted with the stemware, shooting furtive glances at the window, the fireplace, the clock. 

The ceiling.

The final notes of Vivaldi faded out, leaving the room in silence, and Crowley rose to swap the record. The discomfort radiating off the angel was almost palpable and it made his own spine crawl. "Aziraphale--"

"Only, the wind really looks dreadful," Aziraphale blurted out, jolting to his feet and crossing to the window. "I really ought to go before it gets worse."

"Can't get much worse than it is, I think," Crowley countered carefully. "Best stay where it's warm."

"I don't..." Aziraphale stared out at the London skyline, nearly invisible in the storm. Pale fingers worried absently at the hem of his waistcoat. His mouth was down to a thin line and there was quite a lot behind his eyes. He looked pained. "I shouldn't impose."

"You're not imposing if I'm offering."

"It isn't...it isn't right for me to stay!"

The demon set down the vinyl he was holding, something dangerous layering his words. "Says who?"

"I've been ignoring protocol too much as it is--"

Crowley gritted his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "There is no protocol on our side!"

"I know!" Aziraphale snapped. There was a beat of silence and the anger in the angel's face melted as suddenly as it had come, leaving his expression frustrated and upset. He scrubbed a hand across his eyes, almost apologetically. "I...I really can't...surely you understand why I can't just..." He ran a hand through his hair helplessly, eyes darting to the ceiling.

The demon set his glass down and moved over to the window.

It was a very old game they played. Crowley was good at his job and Aziraphale was good at the mental gymnastics required to fit through some of the more dubious loopholes. But every now and then they still lost.

He positioned himself in front of the principality, forcing Aziraphale to look at him.

"Angel," he said quietly, as though someone might overhear. "If you want to head home, I'll take you. You know I will. I'd just rather it be because you want to rather than because they would want you to."

Aziraphale looked truly miserable. "Crowley, you've been a marvelous host, you really have, but...I'm so sorry, I..."

Crowley stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. For just a moment the demon's face was soft, genuine. A bit sad but still impossibly fond. "Don't be." He gave the shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's late. Get your coat, angel, it's cold out there." He doused the fireplace with a wave and stretched his back out. "Give me a moment to sober up and I'll start the car."

Aziraphale sighed, clearly frustrated at a great many things, but headed for the coat rack while the demon forced the alcohol from his system. "It ought to be fine," he muttered as the wine bottles in the corner finished refilling. "It ought to be fine. I can't explain it, I..."

"It's like someone's standing too close inside your personal space," Crowley finished for him quietly, pulling a coat of his own from the ether. "Like you're driving on the motorway and you end up in the blind spot of a lorry. There's no great outward change but all of a sudden the hairs are up on the back of your neck and your skin is crawling. And you just have this overwhelming sense of this is not a good place to be, get out."

"Yes," Aziraphale murmured unsteadily. "Yes, that's it exactly." His eyes found Crowley's, apologetic, searching.

"It is what it is, angel," he assured him softly. "We have time."

A weight seemed to lift from Aziraphale's shoulders. "I...thank you. Truly." There were things unspoken that Crowley could hear beneath that simple phrase. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being patient with me.

Don't say that, hesitated on the tip of Crowley's tongue. Instinct was, of course, very old and very strong. He swallowed down the words and searched for new ones to replace them.

"You're welcome," he said quietly. The syllables tasted foreign in his mouth.

There was silence in the flat as he buttoned up his coat. Despite the passing months they truly had only moved the barest steps away from where they had been.

They had so very far to go yet.

But it was true. They had time.

"Right." He tried to break the mood as casually as he could, slipping dark glasses on and turning his voice into something light and easy. "Shall we be off then? After you, angel."

The lift ride down was silent, subdued. Something complicated was warring behind the blue eyes and Crowley wasn't going to even begin to touch on it until they were in the car. Aziraphale's steps faltered as he reached the glass doors of the lobby, and Crowley was halfway down the outside stairs before he realized he wasn't following.

"Oi, you coming?"

Aziraphale stared down at the space beyond the door with a peculiar expression: uncertainty and determination and anger and hurt. "I - I don't..." There was a moment of indecision, of frantic debate on his face, then he backed quickly over to the lobby bench and sat down hard.

Crowley pulled his coat tighter about himself as the wind bit through his clothes and ducked back into the building.

Aziraphale held very still, eyes closed and fingers gripping the edge of the bench.

"Angel?"

"Give me a moment. Please."

Crowley paced a cautious half-circle around him, instinctively scanning the principality for damage and the storm beyond the glass wall for threats. Another old habit - nearly useless now but one he wasn't going to be able to drop any time soon. He sat down beside the angel and the lobby was quiet for a very, very long time.

"I think," murmured Aziraphale at last, "if it's all right with you, I'd like to stay."

Crowley studied him closely. "Are you sure?"

"No." Aziraphale met his gaze. "I haven't been sure of much of anything, recently. Not since Tadfield. But I do not want to be forced back to the bookshop tonight."

"Shouldn't force yourself to stay if you're only going to be miserable."

"It's not so bad down here, that's the silly thing. But for some reason the idea of going back upstairs is just..." He laughed wryly. "What a mess I've made of the evening."

"It was a fine evening," Crowley told him earnestly.

"I thought so too, at least until the end there." He straightened, and looked a bit more like himself to Crowley's eyes. "And it's my most sincere hope that, with some more wine and another record, it might be again. Give me a few minutes. I think I can work up to it."

The demon took his glasses off and studied him closely. The determination in those eyes, the set of that jaw, were so familiar they hurt. There was a nervousness there, but there was a stubbornness as well. Like the glacier: slow, steady, but deep down so, so strong.

Crowley reached behind himself and retrieved a pair of full wine glasses that suddenly and thoughtfully decided to exist. "You know, I reckon..." he said quietly, handing one to Aziraphale, "that these will taste just as good right here as they would upstairs."

Aziraphale blinked. Glanced from his glass to the demon to the lift and back again. And his expression softened considerably.

"And if music and wine is what it takes to hang onto your company for a little longer, I s'pose that's the sacrifice I'll have to make, won't I?" He sat his phone down beside him and with a few taps Mozart began to play from its speakers.

Aziraphale stared deep into his wine glass, a smile spreading across his face that he didn't seem quite ready to share with the world yet. "A little unorthodox, isn't it?"

"And?" Crowley shrugged. "Last I checked, there's no protocol on our side."

"So there isn't. Do you know, I think I like that about it."

The demon lowered his voice. "Say the word any time, you know. We'll go, no questions asked."

"I know." Aziraphale let out a long breath and settled back onto cushions that were suddenly far more plush than anything the lobby bench had seen before. "But at the moment I'd rather be here."

The storm howled beyond the glass wall but the central heating vent behind them kept any stray chills at bay. They sat in gentle silence for a long time.

Piano Sonata No. 14 wound through the room, mingling with the warmth and the wine to kindle a sense of calm: a concoction of human magic that miracles, for all their power, could never replicate. Clever things, those humans.

Crowley traced a finger around the rim of his glass. "Can I ask what changed your mind?" he asked softly.

Aziraphale gazed off into the distance for a moment before looking back to his companion. "It was the 'you're welcome', funnily enough. You've always objected so vehemently to being thanked before."

"Yeah, well..." Crowley took another sip of his drink so as not to meet Aziraphale's eyes. "Like being in the blind spot of a lorry."

Aziraphale nodded. "It's..." He trailed off. Took a swig of wine and swallowed it down hard, as though for courage. "It's a comfort," he admitted so quietly that Crowley had to strain to hear him. "To know that it's not just me."

Crowley pursed his lips. "Not by a long shot, no" he confessed, equally quiet.

"I know accepting gratitude doesn't come easy to you. But you managed, tonight."

"It isn't a footrace, angel. I'm not asking you to keep pace with me."

"I know that. And I'm grateful. It's just... seeing you be brave makes me feel like...like I can be as well."

That smile was tugging at the edge of Crowley's mouth again. He reached out and clinked the edge of his glass with Aziraphale's. "Course you can be. Always have been."

The angel smiled back at him, warm and glowing and grateful, just the faintest hint of pink darkening his cheeks. With a daring Crowley had only seen behind the safety of closed doors and wine bottles, he placed a hand on the bench between them, palm up. 

Crowley took it.

Meeting him in the middle, as always.

"Careful, angel," the demon murmured in his ear. "Remember, you don't know where I've been."

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort into his wine glass and their laughter echoed throughout the lobby.

The storm raged cold outside, but here, in their own little in-between place, they were warm.

[stardew-saloon]

Weird headcannon request: what would your favorite villagers do in an apocalypse

Listen listen listen. I fucking love anything to do with the apocalypse, especially when zombies are involved. So I’ll write about that !!

This one took a while, sorry ! I wanted to include at least all of the bachelors, and then bachelorettes in another post maybe if I’m not lazy.

Also I follow someone on my other account and I really liked how they like, used different colors to highlight names, so I think I’m gonna do that ! It’s just cute okay :)

Bachelors in the Apocalypse

Alex

Alex thinks of himself as the most ready for the apocalypse. He’s got what he and his family need to survive for months. Food, weapons (Mostly just old baseball bats), clothes, and the Will to Survive.

The zombies probably come from Zuzu city. City people are dumb and get infected right when the virus hits. Everyone in SDV is safe. For now, at least.

Alex, unlike the other villagers, refuses to interact with anyone but his grandparents. He keeps contact extremely limited with people. The only time he ever interacts is when he goes to drop off cookies at Haley’s house, per Evelyn’s request.

He does miss his best friend, though. He misses everyone. He misses that time where he didn’t hear zombies going around the town, banging on doors and smacking their heads against windows. It sucks!

Alex takes a number of zombies down. He’s easily one of the toughest bachelors, plus he’s super strong. He wants to eventually take out all of them, make the valley a safe haven like it used to be. There’s still a long ways to go, but he’s slowly making progress.

His grandparents, especially Evelyn, help out by cooking for him and others. Alex helps out other villagers by dropping off little care-packages. It’s cute! It’s also his way of keeping in contact with everyone and making sure they’re okay.

Alex is the one in a zombie apocalypse movie to survive until the end. He makes the smartest choices and keeps his family safe. He can’t afford to lose anyone else.

Harvey

As a doctor, Harvey’s first thought when he hears about the zombie apocalypse is that he needs to find a cure.

And so he tries to. For about a week. Maru is in the office with him for a while, going back and forth from her house to the doctor’s office. It’s tough experimenting on zombies and it feels.. wrong.

Even though they’re a zombie, Harvey knows that there’s a person in there. Was a person. So he gives up on the cure and instead focuses on keeping the citizens healthy.

Harvey is a goddamn tank. Were he to be partnered with Alex, the zombies would be gone within two days. However, they have different concerns. Alex keeps the zombies away from the valley, and Harvey keeps them away from houses.

They have a good system. Harvey goes around the houses to do checkups, trying to keep some form of order in the new world. He makes sure the oldies stay healthy, despite being cooped up, and that the people that are out fighting stay un-zombieified.

I think Harvey would almost last to the end, but makes a careless mistake and gets bit. Fortunately, a cure comes around! He still did research on the zombies during the apocalypse, and his notes came in handy.

Elliott

You’d think by now that Elliott would be used to being cooped up in his house. He’s practically a hermit! The only time he used to go out was to sit by the ocean or see Leah at the bar.

Now that he has to stay in, he doesn’t like it. It’s the same as all of us with quarantine. Elliott never went out much before, but now that he can’t, he wants to.

He feels like dying of boredom within a week. Fortunately, the sense of impending doom creates a good writing atmosphere. He finishes at least three books during the span of the apocalypse.

However, Elliott isn’t very smart about his survival. He either forgets to eat the food that Alex drops off, or eats it before the week is up. It’s tough.

Eventually, Elliott decides he can’t survive on his own like this. He feels like he’s going mad. It makes for nice poetry, but for now, he needs to prioritize his health.

So he makes his way to Leah’s! He figures it’s probably a good idea. Nobody ever said that you couldn’t hang out with friends, or stay with them.

While going to Leah’s, he’s not very careful with avoiding any zombies. He’s not attacked, but he is followed. Leah let’s him in of course, and then end up holed up in her house. She’s lucky enough to have the forest near her house, so she can rely on that.

Elliott probably trips up somewhere and ends up dying first, joining the rest of the zombies. He’s not very good at being a zombie, though. Which might be for the best! He doesn’t run around very much and usually just hangs back by himself.

Sam

Sam thinks he’s going to be good at the whole apocalypse thing. He’s like “I’ve played enough first-person shooter zombie games to know how to fight them off.” Then the second he’s put into combat, he falters and doesn’t know what to do.

Lucky for him, Jodi is good at fighting. Kent knows how to defend the house. Vincent knows how to ask dozens of questions about what’s going on.

And Sebastian knows how to sneak into Sam’s window at night when they haven’t seen each other in a while. They still try and keep close, but most of their conversations are over the phone. It gets lonely, sometimes.

Sam isn’t necessarily smart about the apocalypse because he doesn’t need to be. He feels bad about relying on his parents, but you would too if you had his kickass parents.

He knows how to keep Vincent safe! Vincent is taken out at least once a week, mostly to see Jas. He misses her a lot. Sam likes to see Shane, too! He misses working with his buddy, even if his body was a grouchy alcoholic that waved him off whenever Sam got within ten feet of him. Good times.

Sam really wants things to be normal again, so he tries to stick with Alex whenever he sees him out. They’re good at fighting, but Sam is very chatty and often gets distracted by other things.

Other things are usually Abigail waving out of her window and whisper-shouting for Sam. Sometimes she’ll whip out the Samson!!! just to get his attention. It usually works. Alex will take a minute just to tease him.

Sam either survives until the end of the apocalypse, or dies about halfway through while on his many night trips to see Sebastian and Abigail.

Sebastian

Apocalypse? He doesn’t even know her.

Sebastian’s life is literally the exact same. Aside from hearing less people upstairs, nothing has changed about his life. Demetrius is upstairs working on a cure or something (Seb tuned out the second he started talking) and Maru goes off with Harvey sometimes.

He heard Robin say something about building a wall or something to keep the zombies out. He wasn’t planning to help very much, seeing as the others mom and some other villagers wanted to help out. Really, the only place the zombies are coming in is through the tunnel for the bus, so if they block that off, they’ll be fine.

Sebastian is more focused on other things. Like staying in contact with Sam and Abigail to make sure that they’re still kicking. Demetrius doesn’t let anyone outside of the house, so Sebastian sneaks everywhere, whether it’s outside to go smoke or to see his friends.

He’s pretty good at fighting, though. He can defend himself a whole lot better than Sam, who he thoughts would have more experience. They both thought his video game theory was true because they’re both dummies.

Those few times where Seb does get out of the house, he’s like a zombie killing machine. It’s too bad he’s doesn’t do it very often. He’s good at sneaking around, too. Those years of tiptoeing around the house to avoid his stepdad yelling at him are really paying off.

Honestly, the whole apocalypse could end and the zombies could dissapear, and Sebastian would have no idea. He'd still be down in the basement, messaging his friends and working on his coding.

Or, for a worse ending, zombies could storm his house, saving him for last, and he wouldn’t know until it was too late and he was surrounded by a horde.

I think Seb would end up surviving, though. He’s not necessarily good at the apocalypse, he’s just good at avoiding it.

Shane

When Shane thought about sobering up, he never imagined he’d have to do it like this. The apocalypse is pain in the ass for him.

He stays with Marnie and Jas, rarely leaving the property. He doesn’t like being holed up inside for so long because then he’s just alone with his thoughts, so Jas keeps him going most of the time.

As much as he hates to admit it, he misses his old life. He hated being employed at Joja, but it gave him something to do. And yeah, he misses his annoying coworker. Lucky for him, he gets to see him one a week when Sam and Vincent pop in.

Shane can act like he’s annoyed all he wants, but now? It’s he apocalypse. Why should he be so bitter?

I’m not going to say that the apocalypse changes Shane’s attitude, but he definitely has some revelations about himself that he wouldn’t have had under different circumstances.

Shane doesn’t like fighting zombies. Not as much as Alex does, anyways. But he still helps him out if it’s ever necessary. Shane is infinitely better at defending than he is attacking. He makes sure to keep the zombies away from their house, and the town in general.

Sometimes, Marnie will ask him to deliver stuff to Leah’s house, or Sam’s since they’re awfully close. It feels like a job to him, so he actually enjoys it. He’s surprised to see Elliott at Leah’s and immediately assumes they’re banging. He doesn’t ask any questions, though. He doesn’t care.

Shane probably ends up dying after a tiny mistake that could’ve easily been avoided. He doesn’t see it as that bad, since Jas is still safe. That was all that mattered to him, really. He either dies after a few months, or an entire year into the apocalypse. Either way he does not go down easily.

I would like everyone to know that I wrote these thinking that Lewis holes himself up in his house and does not help anyone out, so they kick him out and elect Alex as mayor. It was a silly thought I had, but then I just went with it.

Alex for Mayor 2020.

It’s not necessarily like, an official position, but they all kinda trust Alex to protect them, so he just assumes the position. He’s not the smartest, which is why Penny was elected to be Vice-Mayor (Alex’s words). They do a good job running the place.

Anyways that’s all! Hope you enjoyed! Sorry this took so long, it was a lot to write hah.