#many seasons ago. He makes little sense at the best of times. He is treated with kindness

[shreksstepfather]

There's not enough Molepelt love in the world! Molepelt enjoyers rise up!!

[chevelleneech]

Both Buck/Tommy and Buddie shippers are being so dramatic about everything.

On one hand, you have people acting like Buck and Tommy is written in the stars and anyone who dislikes them are being unjust and hateful. On the other, you have people acting as if Buck can’t possibly be in a relationship with a man who isn’t Eddie, and claiming he can is somehow based in racism and hatred of Eddie.

Neither is true! The problem is that prior to 7x04, Evan Buckley was not a canon queer character. He was viewed that way by fans and Oliver Stark was all for it, but that does not change the actual canon history of the character. Therefore, the writers can only fix what they feel fits the current story. They can retcon a few things and so on, but both sides are acting like they’re right, and it makes no sense.

Yes, Buddie shippers have Oliver and Ryan on their side for the most part. Yes, Oliver believes Buck has been queer all along and he thinks a lot of the headcanons about his character’s reaction to things make sense, but he is NOT saying it’s all true. He agrees Buck was likely experiencing some jealousy when Eddie first showed up, but that does not mean Tim Minear is going to make that theory canon. It’s fans and Oliver who think it, but that does not equal canon.

As well, with things being slightly retconned or adjusted to fit the story… Tommy is obviously no longer an asshole by proximity. He was rude to Hen and Chim, but we’ve seen he him interact with the two of them since in civil ways. We know Chim thinks he’s cool. Continuing to demand he apologize on screen is a waste of time. It was five seasons ago, and the story had to change to fit Tim bringing his character back. It happens.

As for Buck/Tommy shippers, y’all have got to get off the high horse of Possibility. At the moment, there are so many ways their relationship can go, and the only reason you all are so high and mighty about it, is because you’re technically never going to be wrong until you’re wrong. Which is annoying.

Yes, Tim could choose to have Tommy stick around for another season. Yeah, Buck and Tommy could be endgame. Yeah, Buck and Tommy could… any and everything is possible, but acting as if Tommy is the love of Buck’s life and deserves fan devotion is crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I like the character. He seems nice if a little cocky, but I like that. I like that he’s written as a grown man who, even though he’s changed, still has a little bit of asshole in him.

Because yes, what he did to Buck on their first date was rude. He didn’t explain anything and left him standing outside the restaurant as if he hadn’t just told him he’s never dated a man before, and as if they hadn’t just run into his best friend. It was a dick move. However, it’s also kinda realistic. So I dug it, but that’s also all we really know about him.

Tommy is an army vet, flies helicopters, was a firefighter, and is gay. Which he struggled to come to terms with, and can be a dick. The way y’all treating him like a savior is insane. Y’all are trying to rub it in people’s face that his relationship with Buck is canon while Buddie isn’t, and I don’t understand that. Buck wasn’t even bisexual three episodes ago, so where is this higher than thou attitude even coming from?

The only thing people should be focused on is the fact that Buck is now canonically bisexual. Tim liked the idea and Oliver loved it, so they finally made it happen. Now, his story has even more potential. I’d even go so far as to say season 7 is going to be a cleaning and re-establishing of all the characters, because so many of them feel a little different.

We’ve got bi!Buck, meaning we’ll get to see him in one or more relationships that he isn’t used to being in. We’ve got a new actor playing Harry, and he’s older, meaning they’re going to have to write to his strengths and build a storyline there that is more mature. Bobby and Athena almost died together for real for real, thus hopefully we’ll get to see their relationship evolve and what if it changes them in any way. Chim and Maddie are finally getting married, so we get to see them kickstart a new chapter together. Hen and Karen have a new child, which will hopefully bring them more storylines and hijinks as a family. And Eddie is dealing with forcing himself to accept a relationship he may not even want to be in. And he’s aware this time, which could result in him ignoring his fears or bowing out, then having to face what bowing out means.

Point is, there is no reason for all this drama.

Buddie is not guaranteed just because it is a popular want for fans, and an accepted theory by the actors and showrunner. They’ve all said it has to fit the overall story without forcibly gearing the writing in that direction. Which means it could happen two episodes from now or two seasons from now. We just have to wait and see.

At the same time, Buck and Tommy are not an established couple yet. They’re going on their second date, and it’s been said Tommy isn’t in the last few episodes of the season. So it’s possible he and Buck are still together, but Lou isn’t a series regular nor regular recurring, so he’s just not contracted to be on set. Which is fine, but acting like a quick breakup is also bad storytelling is ridiculous.

Fans have hated Buck’s relationships with women from the jump, and him breaking up fast isn’t exactly new. So if it happens with the first man he dates… okay. Tommy can become more than a stepping stone, but the writers aren’t obligated to make his first experience with a man something deep and profound. It can be fun and eye-opening and still have mattered, even if it ends fast.

Y’all have got to let the stories play out, and not scream bloody murder if your headcanon doesn’t become canon. Because truth be told, Buck being canon bi is the biggest flex of fan service I’ve ever seen, even if I think it adds to the depth of him. So I can’t imagine how difficult it is to be sure not to continue giving that same group of fans everything they want outright, when there’s so much more story to unfold.

Which means they can’t just make Tommy the love of Buck’s life because Buck/Tommy fans have ditched Buddie or were never Buddie shippers, and want to be right. But they also can’t have Eddie come out and he and Buck start dating, because Buddie shippers have waited five seasons. Just wait to see what happens, and in the meantime, enjoy watching Buck discover more of himself. With Tommy as his current love interest, and Eddie as his best friend.

[tylerdashart]

(spoilers for TDP season 4)

OKAY. so i dont really do these kinda posts but id like to say a few things about season 4 cus ive seen some things and the fandom making theories, i just like to write about my own thoughts. ive watched s4 only one time due to not having netflix so i dont really remember many scenes.

"season 5 when?" are you good?? the season 4 just dropped 3 days ago! Im serious when i say ive seen multiple people already posting this question mostly on YT comments or Insta. also the fact that they're not artists OR a fic author makes sense honestly. they have no idea how animation works.

"rayla's acting weird" this is what frustrats me the most. NO she's not... ok maybe a little. but like. come the fuck on, she was gone for 2 years. ofc she's not the same person we saw in season 3. people change. plus, personally, i dont see any difference on her except this one time when callum asked her to...kill him. yes rayla acted a lot calm in that scene- not just that scene really. she was so calm most of the time, but i can see why? she's trying to get callum warm up to her, she's giving him space, she's being gentle as much as she can cus she knows how much she hurt him. she's grown up, she's not the same hot-headed, irritated elf anymore. and we all know how she hides her feelings. Im pretty sure she's gotten used to it, or managed to cope her feelings well so that she can stay calm. lastly about rayla, all i have to say is people change, so does rayla. and no she's not fake at all.

firstly, if rayla's acting weird, what about Viren being supportive with Terry? isnt that weirder? he didnt even treat his own son better, but he's supporting a trans fella? sus.... secondly, what about opeli being so chill about Ez going with Zubia. in that case most of the characters in s4 were out of character. and that's okay cus it's been 2 fucking years!

personally i think the "Zubia in Katolis" scene was a bit rushed. they couldve done it better but Im not saying it was bad at all tho! i loved the scene with the whole callum doing magic thing and the dragon sized jelly tart? xD

"why is rayla back?" why not really. she realized it was useless to find viren and came back home? she realized she wanted to see her mage? "we had something so special. but I became so obsessed with revenge, i.. risked losing the best thing ive ever had... you" she CLEARLY missed him yall. ofc she came back.

"where's the rayllum kiss" Im glad we didnt get a rayllum kiss. I know this is a cartoon show but at least the animators made it similar to how an in-real-life relationship works. people dont just go "you were gone for two years but its okay, i forgive you, lets kiss". Callum needs time to get used to being around rayla again. he's happy but also angry, he needs to see how hard rayla's trying to win callum's trust back. it was so clear that callum got a bit comfortable with rayla again in the last few episodes, especially the last one. That hug was enough sign for us to know they're gonna be okay and that they're still deeply in love.

Stella isNT EVIL YALL. leave my poor baby girl alone >:c

the fart joke was......nuhuh. idk if it's just me but it was gross. i dont wanna remember how much i cringed.

claudia was a bit- no fuck it- she was too much this season. especially in that scene where she tricked rayla with pebbles. god that hurt so much.

Lastly, Season 4 was amazing!! i loved season 4, and all the new things we saw. the arc is building up, it's so interesting, im so excited for season 5.

[edvinception]

What are your honest thoughts about season 2?

I loved it. After the first binge watch on the premiere day I was left feeling a little underwhelmed in one way and overwhelmed in another. After spending so much time thinking about it and theorising I felt like it was so different from what I expected.

However I gave it a second watch and fell in love alot more. I focused more on the story and the archs of each character. I think they did a great job with all of them.

The season is so jam packed it was a little too much to take in at once and since it was so different from what I thought it would be I needed time to digest.

There of course something I would change, things I didn't love but over all I think they did a great job.

We got archs for all characters but Felice which sadly didn't get much of a story of her own which was sad. However I do think the rest of the characters had archs that made sense. I would personally focus less on Sara and August as a couple but I get why they were a prominent part of the season.

Their archs are also great. Sara is struggling to fit in. She's living her dream but is still having to fight to fit in. Too hard. Her friends are nice but they don't realise that she can't afford their lifestyle. They don't even reflect on that. And she's trying to keep up. So she's living her dream but is also not. Not everything is as amazing as she thought it would be. Then we have her relationship with August. She falls in love and obviously gets alot of conflicting feelings. She knows she's keeping secrets and that it's wrong but she's justifying it or ignoring it until it all catches up and she realises she's lost alot. Her friendships and her relationship with Simon. I think we'll see season 3 allowing Sara to find herself again. She lost herself in season 2 and made alot of mistakes but I think she will work on it. We'll see her try to repair her relationship with Simon, she will move home, she will try to become friends with Felice again.

August arch was also interesting. At first he seemed full of regret, actually regretting what he did. You could tell he was upset and Wille taking revenge on him took a toll and he kinda crumbled a bit. However I also think he kinda learned that things like school status is not everything. Or he just thought it didn't matter because he was essentially going to be part of the royal court which is much cooler. On top of that he really fell in love with Sara. She made him a different person. Or he was different around her.

In the end though then it came down to it he still did everything he could to save himself. He didn't change for the better. He didn't care. He can be nice, he can be thoughtful but at the end of the day he's selfish and only looks out for himself. It will be interesting to see what season 3 will bring.

Contrary to many others I actually think Simon had a good arch and he was not treated like shit or just as a love interest. I agree that it would have been nice to see more of his family and I hope we will get it in season 3. It's something I would change. However I think his arch makes sense. Simon does not deal with his problems. He kinda runs away from them. He also tries to push away his feelings because being vulnerable is scary.

I think it makes sense that he tried with Marcus. Wille really hurt him. He betrayed him when he lied and left Simon in the dark. So he's hurting alot as we see in the first ep. He sings to let his feelings out. Then Marcus shows up. Not a random person but someone he kinda knows. And Marcus gives him attention something he likes and craves. He did really like Wille giving him attention too. He also had his best friends push him to get over Wille and they were all for Marcus.

And just like they discussed in the video from a few days ago, Marcus is very different from Wille. He's confident, he will make a fool of himself, he's not complicated, he's not anxious. He's an easy alternative. But as we see their relationship doesn't work. Marcus is not perfect. He's kinda smug, he looks down on the rich kids, thinking he's better then them and he is also a bit patronising. I do however think he had every right to want to take things slow when Simon jumped him during their movie night. But yeah he was a bit patronising. Then of course he also was very manipulative when Simon tried to break things off. He went way out of line. That shit was very creepy.

And ultimately he showed that he wasn't the right person for Simon. Not because he's a villian or an entirely bad person. He has flaws. He was toxic and he wasn't what Simon wanted or needed. It's not about him being perfect but not being Wille. It's not about him being the complete opposite either. They didn't work together. He was a dick a lot of the time. But Simon also used him. He went back and forth, he used him to make Wille jealous. Only called him if he needed something or he had had a row with Wille. That doesn't make what Marcus did or say right but Simon was using him.

I also think his friends could have been more intuitive. They are pushing for Marcus but it feels like neither of them listen to what he really needs. At least not in the beginning which makes Simon even more confused.

I think we saw Simon grow as a person and even if he still covers up alot of his feelings he was a lot more open. He spoke his mind with Wille. He stood his ground. He set up boundaries. He made mistakes (yes he did) that we recognise from season 1.

At the same time he came to more realisations about Wille. And when Wille backed off and begun to listen more to Simon’s needs that also helped Simon trust Wille again. It didn't happen over night. It took work from Wille but Simon also came to some realisations and like I said he messed up too. I understand him completely, I get why he did say or do things but I think it was important that he made those mistakes and messed up. He’s sixteen so of course he's going to. I think it was vital that things were on his terms when it came to him and Wille. In the first season almost everything was on Wille's turns until Simon broke up. In season 2 Wille realises this and begins to slowly work on that and towards the end it's Simon taking the lead. Wille lets him go, Simon goes after him. Simon finds out about August, Wille acknowledges he should have told him immediately but he doesn’t stop Simon from going to the police. He let's Simon decide but he's also open with how that will affect him. And Simon still wants to go to the police because it's important for him. And Wille won't stop him. We also see Simon’s compassion and love, his conflicting feelings. And when August tries to black mail them he kinda goes fuck it. I'll protect my family and myself too. And he realises he wants Wille in his life. And he can compromise and be in a secret relationship. Because it's no longer only on Wille’s terms only. He has agency and he gets to decide.

And finally Wille's arc is beautiful too. He's so full of emotions this season. He's angry, he's grieving, he is lonely. He's desperate to get Simon back and desperate to make August's life a living hell. He gets very lost in this and obviously keeps making the mistake of not really considering Simon’s feelings or how Wille's decisions hurt him. But he realises and he does let Simon go, even if it hurts him. He tries to make things be on Simon’s terms. I think he grows a lot and in many ways. I also loved his therapy scenes. They were truly a highlight. We learned so much about him and the constant pressure he's under. How much he struggles and how he doesn’t feel enough.

And I think in the end after he had given Simon up but then gotten him back he felt brave and he wanted to take that step and take control. It was beautiful to see.

And there were so many breathtaking scenes too. So many stunning, beautiful moments that I love. And there was the beautiful incorporation of minor characters like Nils and Stella and Vincent.

There are so much more I want to talk about but this too long. If didn't touch upon something you think is super important don't think I don't care about it. I probably thought about it. I just didn't want this post to be even longer. So yeah I couldn't touch upon everything so just now that I have many more thoughts and feelings on all characters and their archs.

This was more than you asked for anon 😂

[regaliasonata]

Dustin! For either of the asks

So I did this one with Dustin for the other character Ask list but I'll make one for this one!

Character Ask: Dustin Brooks

Their physical weak spots

-His legs, he nearly broke his right one during a biking accident, plus earth being a brutal element makes him powerful but a bit slower than the others

Their emotional/moral weak spots

-Dustin hates being manipulated and lied to, he's used to people thinking he's stupid or just a pushover but honestly can't stand someone actually treating him like fodder.

Scars or painful spots

-He had two sharp scars on his mouth years ago that looked like fangs but they've healed.

-Top scars for trans Dustin🏳️‍⚧️(probably diamond shaped patterns to reflect earth👍🏾)

Best places to kiss on their body

-He enjoys neck kissing, or when someone trails a few pecks leading to his shoulder. Anything that could lead to cuddling or long hugs really work well for Dustin, probably the lion side of him enjoying that.

Guilty pleasures

-a slight thing but he enjoys the idea of getting small highlights just to have some sense of style✨️

-Taking bikes from Kelly's shop to ride them after hours before returning them at dawn.

-Using his earth powers to take the spice out of food whenever someone makes him upset.

Their vices (physical or emotional)

-It's not that he would ever do it but the idea of someone getting into an explosion during a race due to his powers doesn't exactly phase Dustin.

-Before making up with Marah he was hellbent on letting her go with Lothor into the Abyss of Evil after the mishaps they had.

Their tickle spots

-his sides, neck and upper legs are his tickle spots(He'll punch the shit out of you though so).

Bad memories/experiences

-Dustin doesn't have a lot of family he knows outside of own, the members he did meet usually died in front of him in various ways from collapsing, car accidents, overdosing etc.

-He dated a guy from his Junior-Senior years of high school but it was a pretty abusive relationship to the point of Dustin needed to spend the last two months of his last semester at another school. The guy tried signing up for the Wind Academy but safe to day Hunter and Cam jumped a person that day.

-Dustin nearly died as a baby when he drank motor fluid instead of milk.

Humiliating memories

-Being made fun of in history class as a little kid.

-Someone broke his first Gameboy and Pokémon Emerald copy because it was "not cool with the times." A lot of people back that would pick on Dustin for being into weird things.

Fears/phobias

-Abandonment or being ostracized, people singling him out like the plague.

-Suffocation via earth like quicksand or dying alone trapped under rubble.

Bad or petty habits

-None really at the moment

Grudges and vendettas

-Marah, they've been on good terms but again before the season ended he hated her.

-comic based but Drakkon needs his skull bashed in with his hammer.

What gets them flustered

-Callimg him cute really does the job, with all the experiences of being left out of things it makes him feel really desirable inside.

-Roughhousing, he's got a thing for that..if you're stronger or get the upper hand then it's donzo for Dustin!

-Ruffling his hair or even holding him closely brings out the lion instincts and makes Dustin go crazy.

Ingrained habits/forces of habit

-over speaking, he'll ramble on and on and become lost in his thoughts and its hard to really get Dustin out of this.

-hugging people even with less familiarity is a part of the Brooks code, it always brightens a person's day and Dustin makes it his mission to give everyone some joy.

What it takes to make them cry

-Yelling...like extremely, he doesn't like it when someone tries speaking over him. If things get too heated he might start to tear up.

-Manipulation like always, the false sincerity of many situations will put Dustin in a tough spot.

Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

-It's a little wrong but he takes tools and arsenal from dead monsters and uses them for spare parts on his bike. Grave robbing basically but interstellar.

-There's a chance that when Dustin first developed his powers it happened on accident, he was being jumped by some guys in 9th grade and the earth below them cracked up. Due to his emotions he might've been responsible for the death of two out of the six kids.

Regrets

-Never meeting David Bowie.

-Oddly enough not learning magic when he had the chance cause both him and Chip took the same plane trip and they didn't realize they were both rangers.

Things they’ll never admit

-He has another part of his name that NO ONE will ever know.

People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

-He's unsure if he has a body count, even then he wouldn't enjoy using his powers for it cause being trapped or crushed doesn't seem fair or humane in his eyes.

-During a horrible battle against some of the brainwashed students he accidentally killed seven students, Dustin had to isolate himself for three weeks to process it.

What-ifs/Alternate Timelines

-In the supernatural based timeline Dustin is being stalked by two vampires, Shane and Hunter, reason being that he's part oni and has various powers that they admire.

-Drakkon pocket dimension, became an onmyoji based ranger rooted from magic and his ninja powers...this warranted Drakkon to put him on a watchlist.

Turning points in their life

-Joining the Ninja academy, gave Dustin so much hidden insight within the world that he's been searching for throughout his life.

People who’ve influenced them greatly

-Meeting Shane and Tori, they really gave him the opportunity to be himself without and judgement. They are like a second family to him, honestly he doesn't know what he'd do without them.

-Hunter, not only does he love the guy but the crimson ranger managed to help Dustin feel more assertive and actually take charge.

[diamondcitydarlin]

I'm not gonna tag this because shadows fandom loves to be contrarian and base their metas directly on people who didn't like things while calling them stupid and shallow and whatever (because apparently I can't not like the way a thing was written without directly insulting someone else who did?? Or being stupid? make it make sense) but I honestly am all for Guillermo being and staying a human. I've been all for it since day one, honestly. To me, everything about his story from the first episode, first season suggests that this is the kind of idealized dream he's going to wake up from eventually and realize it's not everything he wanted. I've always been 100% on board with that, especially with the reveal that he was a vampire hunter which came with its own set of powers. In fact, I was working on a fic a couple years ago that I intend to return to that is ALL about Guillermo finally eschewing his dreams of vampirism for a purpose that better fulfills him etc.

So no, my problem with this last episode is not that 'Guillermo needs to stay a vampire or it's bad writing phwah', my problem is with the swiftness that all of this happens, coupled with the fact that Guillermo is between a rock and a hard place and more or less just being guided into place by what everyone else in the situation thinks is best for him. Despite the fact that he literally DRINKS BLOOD FROM A CUP to fully come into his vampire powers naught but a few scenes before, the fact that he cannot bring himself to drain a human directly from the tap until dead (which I still don't think makes a lot of sense on it's own but fine) is treated as this insurmountable problem they can't possibly get over so, obviously, he needs to be reverted via Derek's death (a character who also doesn't deserve that). Can't just let him drink blood from cups or bottles for a while. Can't just let him half drain someone but not to the point of death. Maybe at least to give him some time to decide??? Maybe give him better reasons (of which there are many) to decide to revert? He has been idolizing this for most of his life, after all, I just think it's a shame that we're meant to accept that ONE moment of revulsion towards killing someone (KILLING SOMEONE OF ALL THINGS) is enough to make him just nope out completely. That's a disservice to him and what he's capable of, if you ask me.

See, I of course enjoyed the deliciousness of the whole cheating/sex parallel to Guillermo being bitten by someone else, loved that, I'm just not sure how I feel about that storyline ending with Nandor being like 'im gonna forgive you for this but only because you're too much of a stupid little baby to know what you want, but I know what you want better than you do, now lemme kill the guy you cheated on me with real quick ok' LIKE. I KNOW that they are toxic I KNOW they are unhealthy, but Guillermo is a character that has constantly been struggling with his own agency, often seizing it on his own by very aggressive means, often being shown as smarter and more capable than most of the household, and for this storyline to just end with Nandor 'fixing' it all because Guillermo's just too dumb to know what's best for him...IDK YALL. DIDN'T LIKE IT. I can see how people would find it romantic and I do think it's meant to be but...nope. I don't find that romantic lmao I find that insulting and patronizing. Maybe that's the point? But it wasn't funny either. Or interesting, really. (The Freddie stuff was fucked up but at least it was funny to some degree lol)

I guess my point is that I wish there had been more time spent on this. We can't keep excusing these cop-out, rushed and dropped storylines on 'well it's a goofy show' because yes, it's ALWAYS been a goofy show I get it, but there's no denying that seasons 1-3 did a better job of holding on to arcs and creating consequences for the characters as a result of these arcs and their actions, such as the Vampire Council tricking them into custody after a season of Guillermo killing a bunch of vampires etc. There's precedent in this GOOFY GOOFY show to think that there will be follow through and consequences of characters actions etc, so no, it doesn't come from nowhere and it's not people just seeing what they want to or whatever.

I do kind of think this was rushed because the next season will most likely be the last, but even if that is true, I don't see why we couldn't have dedicated more time to it in this next season. It's deflating, it's boring, it sucks that one of the main narrative questions of the show 'Will Guillermo transform or not?' has been answered with what I find to be more or less a wet fart that doesn't even really make sense or fully take into account who the characters are and what they're capable of.

Yes, it's a goofy show that is usually just episodic moments of whatever crazy shenanigans the vampires will get into today, but it used to be elevated and tied together by story arcs and narrative consequences that would, eventually, sooner or later, show up for the characters to deal with. It used to be arcs that spanned episodes of Guillermo coming into his power and feeling conflicted about his dreams versus his destiny. It used to be the Vampire Council or the Baron being a certain kind of existential threat. It used to give us the idea that while funny stuff was happening, buckle up, because it's going to get REAL in the last few episodes.

But now that's uh...more or less just not a thing anymore. Everything is dealt with in a 25 min runtime and there are no consequences for anything that last or mean anything. To me, that sucks, and not in a cool vampire way lmao.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Roswell, New Mexico: Dig Me Out (4x07)

Honestly, really liked this episode!

Cons:

In some ways, I liked it so much that it shed a light on some of the pacing issues this season has had thus far. This felt like the point in which several plot threads were finally starting to find their footing, things moved forward in interesting ways, and I think if I were taking a red pen to this season, we'd want to have hit this point in the story maybe just one episode earlier? Cut away some of the sluggishness and extraneous stuff?

I was so happy to see Rosa again! This is maybe a nitpick, but I wish that the scene at the restaurant had gone a little differently. It felt super hasty for Rosa to get up and storm out after Liz and Shivani were talking science for like... forty-five seconds. It undercut Rosa's attitude in the next scene where she's being all mature and telling Liz to be herself. I would have rewritten that slightly so that Rosa stays at the restaurant but looks visibly uncomfortable/annoyed, and then afterwards when they get back to Rosa's place, says something to Liz about her behavior. That would have felt more mature and less awkwardly extreme. How many times have you actually gone out to a restaurant, sat down to eat, been annoyed by a family member for a minute, and actually got up to leave?

It's so funny to me how Max has become like the only person on the show who's thinking about Alex's role in things... specifically, when Michael is talking about going home, Max is like "uh you have a boyfriend." I'm just petty and selfish and Alex means so much to me, but it bothers me that Isobel didn't also think of Alex when she and Max were discussing Michael's future and his dreams.

Last thing I'll say negatively about this episode: the timeline of this season is BONKERS if you think about it for more than a second. I'm bad at tracking these things, but I'm fairly certain it's been like... less than two weeks since the season started with episode 4x01. This makes sense in some regards: Alex has been missing for say, seven or eight days, and that's well within the bounds of how long he said he'd be gone for his work, so it makes sense that Michael isn't panicked about him. But in other regards, when you think about how little time is passing? Mimi died like... what, five days ago, or something like that? Maria's walking around and reminiscing fondly and talking about her mother being at peace, as if it's been months or even years! And Michael only met Bonnie and Clyde like a week ago, all of this relationship development and wondering about home and the future has happened lightning fast when you really think about it. Max was going to propose to Liz just days ago! Isobel and Anatsa went from "I love you" to their breakup in less than a week! It's just kind of bonkers and poorly paced all around. Probably shouldn't consider it too hard.

Pros:

But as I said, I really enjoyed this episode.

To start with, seeing Rosa really was such a treat. I've missed her terribly this season, but she's living her best life in New York with cool artsy roommates, and it makes me so, so happy for her! I love how she was able to step in and be big-sister for Liz in that conversation. Liz was able to acknowledge that seeing Rosa's success made her feel small, which is an understandable thing that happens sometimes with siblings. And Rosa was able to feel settled in her own accomplishments and also give Liz advice on how to stay the course on the path that will make her happiest.

Max really pissed me off with his decision to give up his powers last week, but I kind of like being angry with him. I like that this feels like a real, concrete thing for he and Liz to clash over. Liz, I felt, could have been a little less self-righteous, and acknowledged that while Max shouldn't have done it without discussing it first, it ultimately should always have been his decision. It's his powers, his body, and Liz's position in that argument was very much "but we need your powers" instead of acknowledging what Max actually wants. BUT, ultimately even if Liz could have handled things slightly better, Max is still so in the wrong for continuing his pattern of unilateral decision making, always trying to be everyone's savior. I like a conflict I can really sink my teeth into. I do wish Max had already learned some of these lessons, but hey. These things take time.

Isobel and Dallas hanging out in the hot tub made me smile! They're so cute, I love how much Dallas fits in with the rest of his alien family. It was so funny when Isobel got all flustered at shirtless Dallas, and also how she made sure to check that he wasn't about to spring surprise feelings on her, the way Kyle did. Then, we get some juicy backstory details for both of them, in the form of flashbacks! It was so lovely to see Roy again, and to learn more about what Theo and Dallas were up to during the '40s. Dallas was able to learn the location of the special glasses, and we also got some insights into what Nora was working on, and hints about where her ship might have been hidden. I just really like spending time with Dallas, getting to see more of Theo, and Roy. Since the start, this show has always done a good job making the flashback stuff feel relevant and interesting, instead of a waste of time since we already know the outcome. This is no exception!

And Isobel... apparently Tezca was once her teacher, back on Oasis! This is an interesting twist, and brings Isobel back into the main story in a way I didn't realize we were missing. She's been sort of banished to relationship drama land for most of the season thus far, and here we finally get to see her with her mother's sword again, ready to face down Tezca while her brothers lie there with tranquilizer darts in them. It was such a cool moment to see Michael, Max, and Isobel teaming up to learn more about their origins and their enemy's plans. I want more pod squad time, please!

Bonnie and Clyde's relationship is so screwed up and twisty! I love how Clyde manipulates our heroes into going to the cave where they think Nora's ship might be hidden, when all along what he was after was Theo's bible and glasses. That was a good switcharoo I genuinely didn't see coming, so when we get to that standoff between Clyde and Dallas at the end, with Bonnie as Clyde's bargaining chip, I genuinely wasn't sure what he was going to do, what he might be capable of. He seemed genuinely anguished about having to use Bonnie like that, but a second later he threw her into the quicksand, so... it seems Clyde's fanaticism about the Alighting is no joke. I'm so excited that Dallas has been pulled into quicksand land, and found Alex's necklace... we're so close, guys! Do we think maybe Dallas will find Alex next week? It's possible!

Before I turn to Maria, I want to give a shoutout to Max and Michael having their chats and supporting each other. Their relationship has really come so far from where we started with them in season one. Max is being the pragmatist, raining on Michael's parade a little bit, but Michael admits that he was keeping the map from the rest of his family because he wasn't ready to exit the dream part of things and think about the practical side of things. Max in turn admits that his savior complex is a problem, that he needs to spend more time contemplating and considering the consequences of his actions. Look at that. Some real growth, there. Please let the lesson stick this time, Max!

So all season I've been moaning about the lack of Alex, frustrated that we weren't moving a little faster, at least towards someone realizing that he was in trouble. But honestly? After this episode? I'm already forgiving them for a lot of the Alex drought. Maria has been trying to figure out what her mom wants to tell her, since her mom died. And we saw last week that strange things have been happening around her, signals that we assume came from Mimi. My trust issues with this show means that I never even considered that it might be Alex trying to reach out to Maria. Why? Because Alex doesn't seem to matter much to his friends outside of Michael! If you think about season three, how much screen-time did Alex get with any of his supposed close friends? Barely any with Kyle, and virtually none with Maria or Liz. So to have a plot setup where Maria's whole subplot the past couple of weeks has actually been leading her to Alex? To see Liz and Maria discussing Alex, his favorite soup and milkshake flavor, the concert they went to as kids... it brings Alex into the fold in a way I have been missing, honestly, since season two.

I was worried that the Alex rescue mission was going to be Michael alone, which obviously I would have loved seeing for the sake of the Malex of it all, but I like Alex as a character a lot! I want him to matter to a larger contingent of the cast. I want his absence to be a Big Deal and the Main Point of next week's episode, and having that cliffhanger ending with Maria and Liz realizing the truth, and then Dallas finding that necklace, it gives me hope that we're going to get something truly awesome for 4x08. I miss Tyler on the show, but if they can make Alex matter to the other characters even if we don't get to see him, I'll be more than satisfied.

So, yeah! That's where I'll leave things! I've already seen people hating on this episode because they hate Maria for like, existing, and for her having anything to do with Alex because they think she's an evil monster or whatever. Honestly at this point I just have to roll my eyes and feel kind of bad for those people. Imagine willfully misreading the show to support your continued irrational hatred of a fictional character who honestly has just as much of a right to take up space and time on the show as any of the other leads. Sounds exhausting and not so much fun.

Can't wait for next week! I'm vibrating with excitement!!!

8.5/10

[truefangirl-13]

Adopt a Fic idea for Stranger Things:

So I have this idea…

Eddie,Nancy,Robin

Smoke Sesh. E&R ask N who was better in bed Steve or Jonathan. Swears them to secrecy.

“I love Jonathan, but Steve can do things to you that feel illegal”

Eddie and Robin compare what they know from the general public. Robin talks about what she used to hear before becoming Soul Mates with a capital P for Platonic; and how now when she hears it it grosses her out but also feels a sense of pride that he know how to please a women and treat them the way they should. Eddie says Steve refused to talk about any girl he ever slept with but that some of the guys knew he must do something good cause their girlfriends had mentioned trying something that their ex(meaning Steve) did.

Robin “yeah he’s really tight lipped about that kinda stuff… unless your his best friend!?

What!?! No way! Who was the best!? Who was the worst!? How many people has he actually slept with!?

Robin pretty high

Yay he’s slept with quite a bit of people.,(meets Eddie eyes in a knowing way)., *Eddie’s eyes raise in question*

Nancy Wheeler interrupts “who was the best?seriously I want to know I don’t expect it to be me., we only actually slept together a couple times after the first time(and that time he mostly focused on me) I mean don’t get me wrong we did other stuff but I was mostly on the receiving end *remember she’s high*

Robin looks at Nancy like she’s dumb.

No Nancy you were the best.

Nancy looks stunned. What?. Robin scoffs and kinda rolls her eyes he was in love with you. So it didn’t matter that you were the main focus he said watching you get off was the best experience because it meant he was making you feel good and he wanted to be good for you cause he loved you.

Eddies face is a little hot from that admission and feels a slight burn in his stomach in envy(?)

Nancy still stunned “yeah we really loved each other”

Robin rolls her eyes again “Nancy don’t do that”

Nancy “what’s that suppose to mean?”

Eddie looks back and forth between the two two girls confused by the swift change of mood. Robin “don’t pretend like you didn’t break his heart;you guys didn’t break up;you broke up with him and told him you never loved him!”

*Eddie looks in pity for Steve at Nancy and a touch of anger*

Nancy “I said what!?I did what!?What!?When!?

*Nancy looks speechless something not seen very often amongst the party*

Robin “Tina’s Halloween Party?”

*Nancy pauses and thinks back to Tina’s party which feels like three lifetimes ago which it kinda was three upside down catastrophic(catasgalismic) events ago*

*it comes back in pieces; Steve and Nancy as Joel Goodson and Lana from Risky Business

-[(side bar): that’s twice we see Steve wearing these glasses when we never saw him in them in season 1 maybe he tries to incorporate them into his attire cause of the beating he took from Jonathan; Nancy doesn’t like them and always make him take them off]-

The all encompassing guilt she felt for her part in Barbs death

Trying to dull the feeling by drinking

Steve trying to get her to dial it back a bit; even trying to dance with her to burn off some the alcohol despite looking stupid in-front of his ex-friends and new rival

Steve trying pretty desperately to stop her from drinking any more

‘Pure Fuel’Punch all over her dress

A bathroom

The word Bullshit bouncing around in her head

And mostly a pair of devastated big brown eyes full of hurt and the smallest voice of a question under his breath

a very hazy moment of Jonathan putting her to bed

And then a fight in an alley and the world promptly getting flipped upside down (literally)

Nancy “oh my gosh”

Robins a little breathless from her much suppressed verbal attack “yeah and I promised him I’d never bring it up to you, so you better swear that you won’t tell him!”

*Nancy still reeling slightly shakes her head in agreement*

“I was feeling so guilty about Barb and I just wanted to drink it away since Steve convinced me to go to the Party to get my mind off Barb; and then he started kinda freaking out on me for drinking.So I just drank more cause he was making me mad.

Robin “well yeah. Of course he didn’t want you downing a bunch of alcohol he just wanted to take your mind off it and be surrounded by people it wasn’t the best option but he was trying to help, he didn’t want you feeling more depressed by filling yourself with a depressant.Plus his moms like a raging alcoholic and his dads no better.

Nancy “what?”

Eddie “I knew that; his Uncle Wayne had mentioned the Harringtons a few times nothing of praise. From what little Eddie knew about their prodigy(?) at the time all he knew was Steve was a popular jock who would stand by while his friends picked on the “lesser folk” but would not so much as say a bad word to anyone, who was a serial dater but always left the girls satisfied and without complaint, was rich, drove a nice car, and his parents business allowed for many trips allowing Steve’s popularity to rise with the possibility of a house party.

[valerie]

TWITL - week 1 - Happy 2024

I had some webhosting drama and didn't get to post this weekend so I'm starting this on Sunday night but I have to go to bed soon so I'm not even sure why I'm starting this post now. I'm hoping to get it uploaded sometime Monday but we shall see! My webhost drama started the other day when I tried accessing my site and I kept getting the 509 error message. Somehow I'd reached my bandwidth limit. How?! My website is hardly high traffic and yet I somehow hit the limit via http. Perhaps it has to do with the all the failed logins I found once I was able to get back into my site? Whatever it was, I realized it was time to upgrade my site. My previous plan no longer existed and I was fast approaching some of the limits so I went with a plan that costs much more but I didn't feel like looking for another webhost, especially since I've been with the same one for NINETEEN years and they've been pretty solid this whole time. Also, I've been kiari.com for how long?! https://flic.kr/p/2pr8ej2 remnants of an Old Fashioned Working three days the second week of break is really the best way to ease into work life after the holidays. It didn't even really feel like "work" because I had very few interruptions and I was able to just get on with what I needed to do. Work never stops, of course, so I'm sure there will be stuff on my desk when I go in today. MOVIES/TV Monarch: Legacy of Monsters - I am seriously enjoying this show. I do get annoyed with some of the characters and they almost take me out of the story but the ones who make sense to me keep me intrigued. Some of plot points seemed obvious but it was nice to say, "Ha, I knew it!" at a couple of reveals. Can't wait to see how the season ends and if it's meant to be more than just one or if it's one of those "event" type series. Barbie - I know, what took me so long to watch this movie? Well, finally pressed play and watched. It was good! Very well done and I get all the hype about it. Ryan Gosling will always be my favorite and I thought he did a great job on this movie, even if I found his Ken a little cringey at times. There are so many layers to the movie and it's not all light hearted and superficial. I think you can get as much out of it as you like... Percy Jackson and the Olympians - I have read all the Percy Jackson books so I was very excited when this show was announced.. The season so far has lived up to my expectations, from the casting of the characters to the action and plot. I look forward to each episode's drop and I know I'll be more than a little sad when it's over. I hope it's getting more than the first season. Go watch! https://flic.kr/p/2pqqLxn Random musings... - I lost an earring a couple of weeks ago at work, which made me sad because I'd had the earring for years, probably decades. I resigned myself to its loss, lamenting a little before moving on. This morning at work, we were taking down the holiday decorations and one of my last moves was moving the fake tree back to its place. I looked down and lo, there was earring! Aside from the realization that our office hadn't been vacuumed in awhile (at least two weeks or more), I was so happy to have my earring back! It's the little things sometimes... - I've been using the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone and using those pictures as my picture of the day so far in 2024. Not sure how long this will go on but I do like the way Hipstamatic surprises me with its filters. - I do hope that I write every week on my blog. We'll see how it goes! https://flic.kr/p/2pqmsWS Sometimes I wish I treated this blog more as a diary than I do. I have words swirling in my head, opinions and observations that I wouldn't mind sharing but I don't. I keep them in a private document but sometimes, I want to set those thoughts out into the world. I'm not clever enough to keep them vague though so I leave them in a place where only can read them. Ah well... Read the full article

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

“…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC’s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC’s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

[ravenadottir]

Hreyooo, Which route do you think is the most fun? I don't know which one to play and I'm afraid to leave my boy Lucas in the hands of fate, I admit it. 🤠

heyooo! ooh, i love to do this route because of the responses we can get and my favorite is not about an LI but about a conduct (like i mentioned in this post a while ago)

((also if you're interested in which playthrough is the best for each li, IN MY OPINION, i wrote it down here))

hear me out: BURN THE VILLA.

i always start with rocco but kiss and flirt with the others every opportunity i get. after so many playthroughs i felt i deserved a little treat, and this one route i did was honestly the best!

so, let 's begin!

day 1 i choose rocco. truth and dare: noah. kiss rocco after if he's into it. pay the 5 gems to meet the second boy that's gonna chase you. i really don't pick anyone specific and sometimes will close my eyes when tapping the order of the boys on the first pick. i enjoy the surprise lol

every time one of the boys flirt or ask for reassurance, i'm openly flirting. i like hurting rocco and earning his side thing with marisol. besides, my mc doesn't care about it and even calls lottie out when she's angry about it.

slime challenge: i go bananas on everyone, catch every color, really go for it! and when being called out i always shrug and give the "i don't care" type of response.

whenever gary wants a kiss i give it to him. because my mc is living her best life in this one! besides, i side with priya to make lottie mad, mostly because she's being a hypocrite before casa amor.

when lucas and henrik enter the villa i flirt with both. it's simply too fun to not do it! when we go to the firepit i sit in between them and do my best to make them feel welcome. at the date i give everything to both, because there's going to be some angst once one of them leaves. it's just that little *spark* of extra flavor.

the tweet challenge is the perfect opportunity to spite everyone and call them out, especially lottie and hope. no one escapes this route, not even the girls.

when rocco leaves i share the bed with lucas/henrik. usually i let lucas stay in the villa because he's so prone to drama himself.

every time there's an opportunity i call the girls out. it's the pot calling the kettle black and it's fun to see them squirm when they're on their high horse. again, at the beginning, every girl has something going on for them on the side. lottie wants gary, priya wants noah, hope wants lucas and marisol wants rocco, so it's fun to just air the dirty laundry every time i can.

when choosing someone i go for gary. especially after telling lottie i wouldn't. it's her and lucas being extremely disappointed but this is not the time for pity.

operation nope is the apex of the first two weeks and of course i go for it. blatantly flirting with noah before my mc kisses him. again, this is my reward for taking everyone's shit in other playthroughs.

now, because i go for noah, he's gonna choose my mc and i'll definitely kiss him and say this is what i wanted, only to play around and flirt with ALMOST everyone in casa amor. carl is my main guy but i flirt with kassam as well! i just want lottie to regret herself on every gary playthrough *shrugs*

when coming down to the choice i bring carl. not that it matters who comes from casa amor, they all turn into the same person except for a couple of answers on challenges, so... not much loss there.

BUT, when hope asks me who i want to choose me, i say it's bobby. he goes for it because the decision is ours and that's great. we have elisa and jo coming in and i only throw gasoline in the fire when the altercation between shannon and jo happens.

after all that, i continue to give everyone else the time of day. on day 24, when henrik and hannah come back, i tell henrik i'm into him. i don't cheat on bobby though and here's why: if you do you have no other alternative but to stay with henrik, and what i really want is to kill jo's spirit. so i go for ibrahim at the last recoupling, after ending things with bobby after the challenge.

and yes, i do go for both chats on the roofterrace with noah and end up hooking up with him on day 29. it just makes sense ya know? why stopping?

because it doesn't matter what you do you always win, i choose to steal the money but i also don't go for noah either. my mc is alone by the pool at the end of the night, but she was the most popular character in the entire season, cause a stir every time she could and i honestly think she would live her best during those 30 days!

[bluejayblueskies]

in the reciprocal

Words: 8.3k

Relationships: Jon & Martin (QPR)

Tags: Season 1, Scottish Safehouse, Light Angst, Queerplatonic Relationships, Gray-Aro Martin, Kiss-Averse Jon, Kiss-Averse Martin

Warnings: internalized arophobia, mild external arophobia, mild internalized homophobia, canon-typical Lonely depression and dissociation, teasing someone about a crush (in a friendly manner), mention of canon character death, Martin briefly pretending like he still has romantic feelings for Jon and participating in a romantic relationship that makes him uncomfortable (this is addressed and resolved)

Ao3 link in source

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Martin’s relationship with romance has always been … complicated.

He has distinct memories of his early teenage years, when the major topic of conversation had shifted abruptly to who had a crush on who and who had kissed who after school and who had asked who on a date. Martin had never really participated in those conversations, though that could be owed more to the fact that he didn’t have many friends than that he wasn’t interested.

Because Martin was interested. The idea of romance had always intrigued him—a fairy-tale thing where there was somebody who would choose you and love you and never let you be alone ever again—and he wanted, more badly than he knew what to do with sometimes, to be in love.

The world, as Martin quickly learned, was not a fairy tale. No matter how much Martin tried to pretend otherwise. In fairy tales, when people got sick, they eventually got better. In fairy tales, parents always loved their children and showered them with affection. (Or were villainous and cruel, locking their children away in towers and treating them like objects to be discarded. Though Martin was never fond of those stories.) And in fairy tales, love was always easy. It wasn’t something that had to be learned or forced. It was instead like breathing—nearly effortless unless you thought about it too much—and, like breathing, it was something that everyone did.

So Martin couldn’t understand why he was so bad at it.

Just before he’d dropped out of school to work full time after his mother couldn’t anymore, he’d been asked on the first and only date of his entire life. Nino had been his friend for nearly a year and a half, and Martin loved spending time with him more than he loved most things in his life back then. School was growing more difficult as Martin had to take on a second part-time job, his mother was growing sicker and shorter with her temper, and he was quickly coming to the realization that he was … different.

After all, he’d never once felt the same kind of affection toward the girls whose names he attempted to doodle in the corners of his notebooks as he felt toward Nino.

Coming to terms with the fact that his first real crush was on his very lovely, very male best friend was … hard. But one day, Nino had bumped his shoulder against Martin’s as they sat in the library and had said something funny that Martin has long since forgotten, and he’d found himself smiling widely. His heart was a stuttering mess in his chest, his stomach twisted up into knots, and … things hadn’t been so bad, then.

Loving Nino had felt safe. Looking back, Martin is sure that Nino had been able to read all of Martin’s stutters and flushed cheeks and clumsy attempts at affection for what they were, but at the time, it had felt like a private indulgence. Just another way for Martin to spend time with the boy who was gradually becoming the most important person in his life. (Behind his mother, that is. She would always come first.)

What was funny about the whole situation, in a way that was actually not very funny at all, was that Martin was even considering asking Nino out. He liked to fantasize about what it would be like—creating clumsy scenarios in his mind where he would slip a note into Nino’s backpack before they parted ways or blurt it out on their way to the tube or whisper it quietly under his breath in the library so that nobody else could hear it but them. He imagined what it would be like if Nino said yes, his face lighting up with a smile and his hand reaching for Martin’s.

He tried to imagine what would happen after that—the date, the kissing (which he could never quite picture without grimacing and pushing the image quickly away), the hand-holding, the…

Well. He actually wasn’t quite sure what was meant to come after.

(Like breathing. It was supposed to be like breathing.)

It was funny, except it wasn’t. Because when Nino pulled Martin aside on their way home one day, face flushed slightly darker than normal, and hesitantly asked if Martin would like to go to a movie with him in a way that was very clearly meant to be a date, Martin expected to feel happy. He expected to feel relieved, that he hadn’t had to muster up the courage to ask Nino himself, or nervous, that he was finally going to be pursuing a romantic relationship with the boy he cared so much about.

Instead, he felt … stiff. Uncomfortable, like his skin was suddenly just a bit too tight. He felt the sudden urge to hide, or maybe to run, or to vanish into thin air so he didn’t have to be standing here anymore, now desperately trying to avoid the eyes of the boy who had just bared such a vulnerable part of himself to Martin.

Confused, Martin tried to look within himself for that warm, stammering affection that had been there a minute ago and found it transformed into something awkward and tense and devoid of all desire for romance. But that didn’t make any sense, he thought as he stared blankly at Nino, who was becoming increasingly nervous, shifting from foot to foot as his mouth pinched into a thin, anxious line. He remembered liking Nino. He remembered the fantasies, remembered coming up with a thousand scenarios just like this one, remembered stammering and stuttering and wanting so badly to take Nino’s hand in his own.

It was like remembering a story he’d been told. Just a fairy tale.

“You … can just say no,” Nino said finally, and Martin felt a curl of guilt in his stomach at the clear upset in Nino’s eyes. “If you have to think this long, it’s … probably not a yes. Is it.”

Yes, Martin tried to say. It’s a yes—of course it’s a yes, I’m just … surprised. Maybe things would make more sense if they actually went on a date. Maybe Martin would just … sort himself out. He was just surprised, or maybe in shock.

He loved Nino. He did; he knew he did. He just … had to figure out how to bring it back.

He didn’t get the chance. (Though, thinking back on it now, Martin knows that even if he’d tried, it wouldn’t have worked.) Nino pulled back slightly, hands going to the straps of his backpack self-consciously. “Right,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed, and Martin felt himself mirroring the emotion. “S-sorry, I … I guess I was reading things wrong. I—I thought that you … never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Nino forced a smile then, and it lacked all the bright and shining things that Martin liked about it. “S-suppose I’ll … see you in school tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Martin managed to say. And then Nino was gone, and Martin walked home alone.

He dropped out a few months later. Nino said that he would call, but Martin has always been good at lying and even better at telling when somebody else is doing so. And Nino hadn’t been putting much effort into it.

That was … probably for the best. At least Martin didn’t have to feel that dizzying, sickening sensation of guilt and awkwardness every time he looked at Nino anymore.

So, there it was. The world was nothing like a fairy tale. His mother only ever got sicker, her affection for him only ever grew more a thing of the past, and love was…

Well, love clearly wasn’t for him.

That didn’t stop him from falling hopelessly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with Jonathan Sims.

.

.

.

Martin, as a rule, makes a habit of not talking about his love life. For one, because there is a distinct lack of it (a fact that he much prefers but doesn’t generally feel like explaining in detail). And for two, because Martin just knew it would turn into something like this.

Martin places his head in his hands to hide the flaming red of his cheeks. “Can we not talk about it?”

“I think we’re actually obligated to talk about it now,” Tim says with what Martin is absolutely certain is a cheeky grin. “Given that you’ve just admitted that your not-so-mysterious crush is Jonathan Sims.” He drops his voice to an exaggerated conspiratorial murmur. “Is he the one you’ve been writing poetry about then?”

“I don’t have to say anything,” Martin mumbles into the very clammy palms of his hand.

Tim, fortunately, drops the poetry topic. He unfortunately does not drop the crush topic. “I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he continues. “You’ve got good taste. The whole … sweater vest, ‘disgruntled professor’ vibe is attractive, and he’s funny, you know? In his own way.”

Martin lifts his head from his hands and gives Tim an exasperated look that he hopes screams can we please stop talking about this. Tim must misinterpret it as jealousy instead because he holds his hands up in the air placatingly. “Hey, no competition here. We’re just friends, and I’m not really interested in dating anyone at the moment.” A pause. “Though, I suppose if Jon asked, I wouldn’t say—you know what, that’s not helpful.”

“He is pretty hot,” Sasha pipes in from her spot on the break room couch. “I definitely get where you’re coming from.” Then, after Martin turns that same exasperated look onto her: “Just trying to show our support for the cause, Martin.”

“Yeah, well—don’t.” Martin stands, maybe a little bit too abruptly, and crosses the room to where the kettle sits on the counter. He fills it in the sink and then clicks it on, the blue light reflecting off the countertop and faintly illuminating his hands.

“Hey,” Tim says, leaning against the counter next to him and giving him a surprisingly serious look. “I’m sorry. If talking about this makes you uncomfortable, we’ll drop it.” He mimes zipping his lips closed and throwing away the key. “No questions asked.”

“I’m pretty sure talking afterward negates the ‘zipping your lips shut’ thing,” Martin says, which earns him an amused huff of laughter and a gentle elbow in the side. He finds himself smiling, if only briefly before it falls from his lips once again. “And it’s … fine. I’m not upset. It’s just…” He hesitates, considering, and settles on a suitably vague, “It’s complicated.”

Tim makes a noise of understanding. “Say no more, Marto. Consider the subject dropped.”

“Thank you.”

There are a few moments of silence between them, filled only with the gentle hum of the kettle. Martin reaches for the mugs, and as he pulls four from the cabinet, Tim says abruptly, “So wait—is that why you always bring him tea?”

Martin nearly drops the mugs. “Tim.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Tim grimaces at him sheepishly. “I’m dropping it.”

Martin nods and pulls the box of tea from the cupboard. As he gets the mugs ready, however, he can feel Tim’s eyes on him, heavy and curious. Finally, it gets to be too much, and Martin sets the box down with a sigh. “I bring him tea because he never leaves his office and at least this way he’s hydrated. If you absolutely must know.”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, you know,” Sasha says from where she’s still sitting on the couch.

“Yes,” Martin says tersely, grabbing the kettle as it clicks off, “but it’s better than nothing.”

The tea isn’t related to the crush. It really isn’t. But Martin knows that the more he tries to make excuses, the more it’ll seem like he’s deflecting, which will just be counterproductive. So he prepares the tea and passes Tim and Sasha’s mugs to them. Then, fully aware that Tim and Sasha are watching, he grabs Jon’s mug and makes his way to his office.

He doesn’t knock. He found out his first week here that Jon doesn’t like it when people knock and prefers them to verbally announce themselves instead. It wasn’t because Jon had told him; Martin gets the feeling that Jon is too stubborn to admit to that sort of weakness in front of him. It was because of the subtle tension in Jon’s shoulders every time Martin opened the door after rapping three times on the doorframe; the way his voice sounded ever so slightly pinched when he asked what Martin wanted.

So Martin says, just loud enough to penetrate the thick oak door, that he’s coming in, and then, after a moment, he opens it.

Jon is sitting at his desk, mountains of papers and files stacked on either side of him. His laptop is open in front of him, and he’s currently focused intently on something on the screen, the harsh white light of the LCDs reflecting off his glasses. He doesn’t seem to notice when the door opens, but when Martin takes a few steps closer and gently clears his throat, he looks up from the screen, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the dimness of his office.

“Ah,” Jon says, his gaze landing on the mug. “Right. You can…” He looks at the disastrously cluttered surface of his desk and, after some consideration, pushes a stack of papers to the side to make a mug-sized gap in the mess. “You can place it there.”

Martin does. He doesn’t mean to linger afterward. Even though things are ... better between them now that Martin is staying in the Archives and Jon seems to have softened slightly toward him, they’re not quite at the ‘hold a casual conversation’ stage of their relationship yet. Still, Martin finds himself standing in front of Jon’s desk long enough for Jon to glance back up from his computer, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows.

“Did you … need something else from me?” he says, sounding more confused than annoyed.

No, Martin means to say. I’ll be going now.

Instead, he says, “How are you doing?”

Jon stares blankly at Martin, like he doesn’t understand the question. Martin briefly curses his complete lack of a verbal filter at the worst times and purses his lips, telling himself that frantically trying to rescind the statement will only make things worse. “I’m … fine,” Jon says with a hint of incredulity in his voice, like he can’t fathom any reason why Martin would want to inquire after his well-being.

Good, Martin opens his mouth to say. Let me know if you need anything else.

Why he says instead, “I just … noticed that you haven’t been going home lately,” he doesn’t know. He hasn’t had a crush in so long—is this what it was like the last time? God, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Jon still looks bewildered, though there is an edge of irritation to his voice when he says, “There is a lot to do here, Martin. I assure you, I can take care of myself.”

“Right, yeah.” Martin fights the urge to rub his hand along the back of his neck, settling for the inside of his wrist instead. “Just … I know I’ve taken your cot recently, and if you’re not going home at night, I—I would hate to feel like I’m making you sleep at your desk.”

“You are not making me do anything. I can make my own choices.” Jon purses his lips for a moment before saying, more gently, “Besides, you … have more need of the cot than me at the moment.”

Martin can’t help the little shudder that goes through him at the reminder of why, exactly, he is in need of the cot. “Yeah,” he concedes. Then, because it’s only been a week or so and he still feels like he hasn’t said it enough: “Thank you again, for … for letting me stay here.”

Jon’s expression softens into something almost sympathetic, just for a moment, before growing closed-off and shuttered once again. Martin’s traitorous heart thuds in his chest at the sight, just like it had when Jon had listened to his story impassively and then matter-of-factly offered him the cot like it was the only logical thing to do.

(He hadn’t understood why he’d reacted like that—pounding heart, sweaty palms, cottony mouth—until that night, staring at the dark, cracked ceiling of the Archives and running Jon’s words over and over again in his mind. But it wasn’t surprising, was it? Of course Martin would find himself attached to his prickly, no-nonsense boss who kind of hated him the first moment he showed him an ounce of kindness.)

“It’s … really no problem at all,” Jon says, sounding a bit stiff in a way that’s hopelessly endearing, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with Martin’s gratitude. Then, even more stiffly: “You’re … doing all right?”

The tentative concern in Jon’s voice is enough to bring a flush to the tips of Martin’s cheeks that he desperately hopes can’t be seen in the low light of Jon’s office. “Y-yeah. As well as I can be, I—I suppose.”

“Well,” Jon says in a businesslike voice, like he’s delivering a report, “if you need any further accommodations, please let me know. Given that this was a workplace incident and you were investigating the Vittery building on my request, the Institute and I are responsible for ensuring that you remain safe while you’re … displaced from your previous home.”

Martin has always been good at reading people. And for all that Jon wears various masks of professionalism and skepticism and authority, he’s still surprisingly easy to read. It’s easy to control an expression, to control a tone of voice, but Jon’s eyes are always so much more emotive than he probably means them to be. Right now, they’re flitting around the room, from Martin to the floor to his desk to the floor again, like they’re afraid to settle on one place for too long.

It’s easy to identify the emotion as guilt. It takes Martin a few more moments to place what, exactly, Jon is guilty for.

“It’s … not your fault, you know,” Martin says slowly. “What happened with Prentiss. You’re not … responsible for it.”

Martin expects Jon to brush him off—to tell him that he’s being ridiculous. He doesn’t expect him to say, with a voice that leaves no room for argument, “I am not responsible for Jane Prentiss’ presence in the Vittery building, yes, nor for the fact that she followed you home. But I would be remiss not to acknowledge that you encountered her while following up on a statement, per my request, and that I … was not as cautious as I should have been with regards to sending you on dangerous assignments.” Jon’s eyes are sheepish now, and a touch concerned. “I will be sure to take the appropriate precautions in the future, as it would be unacceptable for you to be injured or … otherwise hurt whilst performing your duties as an archival assistant.”

It’s not a heartfelt statement by any measure. Really, it’s just common decency, and definitely what should be expected from one’s superior in a line of work that is (apparently) much more dangerous than it appears to be on paper. But Jon’s eyes when they finally turn to Martin are softer than he’s ever seen them, even as his expression remains carefully neutral and professional, and it feels like Jon has just said something profoundly kind.

Martin’s heart has some stuttering, skipping things to say about that particular fact.

“Um,” Martin says eloquently. “Th-thanks.” He considers mentioning again that Jon really isn’t at fault for sending him into a building that, for all Jon knew, contained nothing more than a few very persistent spiders. But he doesn’t. Instead, he holds the little scrap of kindness he’s been given close to his chest, stammers something about getting back to work, and leaves Jon’s office before he says something embarrassing like I like it when you care or you have kind eyes or we could share the cot if you stay too late.

Tim wiggles his eyebrows at Martin as he takes a seat back at his desk, and Sasha gives him a much more subtle knowing look. Martin ignores both of them and busies himself with the statement sitting on the corner of his desk, diving back into the formatting he’s been struggling with all morning.

Jon is his boss. Jon doesn’t even really like him, when he’s not feeling guilty for almost getting Martin killed. It’s never going to work between them.

A bit of the tension bleeds out of Martin’s shoulders. His eyes drift back toward the door to Jon’s office—the golden nameplate outside it, embossed with Jon’s name, the frosted window, the old, warped wood—and he feels something light and comfortable settle in his chest.

Jon is prickly and lovely and blunt and awkwardly conscientious and completely unattainable. Jon is never going to look at Martin with affection in his eyes and ask Martin to run away with him to pursue a romantic, fairy-tale ending, and Martin is never going to feel that intense, awful discomfort that seeps into the gaps where the love once was. He can blush and stammer and imagine holding Jon’s hand and kissing the inside of his wrist and tangling his foot with Jon’s underneath a table, and nothing will change.

It’s never going to happen between them. And it’s better that way.

.

.

.

The car ride to Scotland is quiet. Jon keeps sneaking glances at Martin when he thinks Martin isn’t paying attention, as if Martin will vanish if he doesn’t keep a watchful eye on him. It should be irritating, but … maybe he’s right. Martin doesn’t feel fully here yet. He still feels empty and numb, like all of the emotion and life and things that make him him have been cut away, consumed by the salty fog that had filled his lungs and stung his throat as he inhaled.

Peter Lukas is dead. Martin had felt it happen with a sort of empty detachment—the ripples of fog as Peter disintegrated into nothing but mist and static. Jon hasn’t spoken about it since they left the Lonely, but Martin had seen the tension in his shoulders as they’d returned to their flats to pack and taken the keys to the car from Basira and made their way painstakingly through London traffic.

Martin had wanted to tell Jon that it was all right—that everything was going to be okay. But his throat refused to form the words. It took all of his energy to remain present and solid, and he just … couldn’t. So he remained silent and gripped Jon’s hand as tightly as he was able and focused on not giving in to the Loneliness that still lingered underneath the surface of his skin.

Now, both of Jon’s hands are on the wheel of the car, his fingers and elbows rigid and stiff. Generic pop music spills out of the radio, the signal distorted enough that Martin only catches about half of the song, the rest swallowed by static. Better than him, he thinks absently. Right now, he feels as if he’s only static.

He can’t remember if he was like this before the air opened wide in front of him and he was swallowed whole by the fog, the panopticon gone in an instant and replaced with nothing but endless gray. He was … close, he thinks. Every day, things grew dimmer, his own thoughts and feelings more difficult to get a handle on. It grew harder and harder to remember why he was resisting at all. What his goal was, other than to just … be alone. He thinks he would have forgotten entirely, had Jon not been three floors beneath him, alive and breathing and reminding him that he was doing this—all of this—for a reason.

It had been … lovelier than Martin ever could have imagined, falling in love with Jon. It grew within him like a garden, new flowers cropping up every day. Some were white and delicate, blooming in his lungs when he looked at Jon and felt the all-consuming need to bundle him up in a blanket and make him tea and hide him away from the things in the world that wanted to hurt him. Others were purple and angular, blossoming with every lunch they had together and story Jon told him. And some were red and thorny, roses with waxy petals that made Martin’s cheeks grow hot every time Jon said his name like it was special or treated him kindly or smiled.

So when things grew difficult—when the loneliness crept too close, when he grew too comfortable being invisible, when he had to look Jon in the eye and tell him that he didn’t want to see him—Martin retreated to the quiet garden in his soul. He ran his fingers along the petals and stems and leaves and reminded himself that he needed to do this, or he’d lose Jon again and the garden would shrivel and die.

It had been an easy decision, in the end.

There’s a soft crunching noise, and Martin breaks free from his thoughts to see that they’ve transitioned from the smooth asphalt of the motorway to an unpaved gravel road. It’s bracketed on either side by trees, and though the sun has long since set, Martin can still see the gentle swell of hills around them, outlined softly in the moonlight. He thinks, for a moment, that he sees fog, clustering around the bases of the hills and swirling around in tight eddies, but when he blinks, the image is gone.

“We’re almost there,” Jon says quietly. It’s one of the few things he’s said to Martin the entire trip. Then, after a moment: “It’s … rather nice out here.”

Martin supposes it is. The landscape around them had been a vibrant green before twilight had washed it out into deep blues, and there have been cows dotted around the fields, shaggy and brown and grazing contently. It’s a stark change from the grays and browns of central London, with buildings on all sides and people everywhere and no chance to ever really see the stars. If circumstances were different, Martin thinks he would be cooing over the cows and trying to get Jon to stop so he could take pictures and enjoying his first trip outside of England.

Instead, Martin just nods.

Jon seems to understand. He sneaks another glance at Martin—full of something soft that Martin, in his foggy state, doesn’t quite know how to parse—but remains silent for the rest of the trip. It could easily be a stiff, uncomfortable silence, but … it’s not. It feels companionable.

When did being around Jon become so easy?

Daisy’s cabin is small and squat, nestled between two hills and idyllic in a way that doesn’t match the rough-hewn, steel-eyed woman Martin had known. The inside is dusty and cold, and Jon mutters something about central heating before disappearing down the corridor and leaving Martin standing in the living room, staring at the place he’ll be living in for the foreseeable future.

The place he’ll be living in with Jon for the foreseeable future.

Martin feels something in his chest stir at that—a strange, twisting emotion that’s there and gone before he can put a name to it. He shivers, in a way he doesn’t think is from the cold, and goes to find Jon.

He … doesn’t think he should be alone right now.

They find an old, rusted radiator that miraculously still works, pumping out hot air with a groan of metal. Jon digs a set of musty sheets out of the linen closet and begins dressing the bed. Martin notes the lack of a second bedroom, and he thinks he might object to the implication that they’ll be sharing a bed if he weren’t aware of the fact that he might vanish if left alone for too long. (Or if he were himself enough to feel embarrassed. Or to feel anything.)

He doesn’t think anything shows on his face, but Jon’s always been keen, even more so now that knowledge drips into his mind like water from a leaky faucet. Jon’s hands flutter over the sheets for a moment before he says, “I … hope this is all right?”

Martin tries to find his voice to agree, but the energy required to summon it is too much, so he settles for a shallow nod. He doesn’t think it’s a sufficiently enthusiastic agreement, but Jon doesn’t question it. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, then says, “And … you’re all right?”

It’s a bit of a ridiculous question, really. No, Martin isn’t all right. No, there’s nothing Jon can do about it. No, he doesn’t know when things will be better. Or if they’ll ever be better.

Martin just looks at Jon, eyebrows slightly raised. Jon lets out a small, dry laugh. “Right. I … suppose that was a silly question. I—I meant…” Jon hems and haws for a long moment before finally saying, “Do you feel … safe, here? W-with me?”

That question has a much easier answer.

When Martin nods without hesitation, Jon visibly relaxes. “Good,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “That’s … that’s good.”

They stand there for a moment longer, the silence between them thick and heavy but not uncomfortably so. Finally, Jon clears his throat and says, “Well, I—I suppose we should rest then. We can … talk tomorrow?”

Martin nods and tries to smile. He doesn’t quite manage it, but … that’s all right. For now, this is enough.

Jon retreats into the bathroom, and Martin finds himself overcome with exhaustion. He slips into the soft pajama trousers he’d absently stuffed into his duffle bag, climbs under the covers, and is asleep before the sound of running water from the other room abates.

.

.

.

Martin doesn’t remember what happened in the Lonely. Things had been foggy and disjointed, slipping through his grasp when he tried to hold onto them. He barely remembers what came after, when Jon had led him away from the sand and the fog and the waves, his palm a searing heat against Martin’s. His first few days at the safehouse are spent in a similar fog, like each muscle in his body is frozen solid and he’s slowly attempting to warm them with a matchstick flame.

His third day is … better. His fourth, better still. By the end of the first week, Martin feels more himself than he has in months, if still acutely aware of the fog that now lives in his lungs and creeps out of his throat when he thinks too hard about what’s transpired or when Jon is out of sight for too long.

Martin remembers what it’s like to be happy. He feels it when he shuffles sleepily into the kitchen on their eigth morning in the safehouse and sees Jon standing in front of the stove, hair tied up in a neat bun and eggs sizzling in a pan in front of him. He remembers what it’s like to be frightened. He feels it when he wakes at night, shivering and shaking with the lingering memory of dreams of nothing but endless fog and aching loneliness.

And he remembers what it’s like to be in love.

He remembers it just in time to lose it.

The worst thing, Martin thinks, is that he’d almost managed to convince himself that it would be different this time. He knows, logically, that it’s not that simple. He’d done a little bit of research after what happened with Nino, reading through a few web pages on aromanticism before becoming overwhelmed and closing out of every single one of them. He tentatively returned to them a few years later after realizing that this wasn’t something that he was going to grow out of or move on from.

He had difficulties settling on a label, partly because of the sheer number of them and partly because he … didn’t quite know how to categorize his feelings. How could he categorize something that he’d only felt once before? Gray-romantic seemed the safest option, so that was the one he settled on.

(Not that he ever told anyone that he was arospec. It never seemed important, even when Sasha would needle him about his crush and Tim would make too-loud suggestive comments that could surely be heard through the door to Jon’s office.

… Martin misses Tim and Sasha. He thinks, if he’d had the chance—if he’d had more time—they would have been the first people he told.)

Martin knows that his relationship with romantic attraction is complicated. Yet somehow, he’s still found it within himself to hope that this time, things will be different. This time, when he tells Jon that he’s very in love with him and has been for a while, those words will continue to be true even after they’re spoken. (He ignores the fact that the actual thought of saying them aloud makes his stomach twist and his mouth grow chalky.)

But, just like with Nino, Martin doesn’t get the chance to try. Jon beats him to the punch.

“I … I love you,” Jon says quietly. He has Martin’s hand in his, and he’s holding it so gently Martin might cry. There were things Jon said before this moment—a conversation that has led them here—but Martin is having a hard time recalling any of them. All he can think is no, no, not now, not here.

His skin crawls. His hands are clammy, and he’s sure that Jon can feel it. He has the instinctive need to get away, but he’s also frozen in place, the lump in his throat sealing away all of the words that he should be saying.

He should be saying something.

The silence stretches on between them, the vulnerability on Jon’s face slowly morphing into concern. “... Martin?”

He sounds so confused, and Martin … he can’t. He just can’t. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the moment when that confusion turns to hurt.

So Martin swallows sharply and forces his hand to squeeze Jon’s and says, “I love you too.”

And he does, in a way. He wants Jon here, by his side, eating breakfast next to him and rambling to him about whatever latest thing has piqued his interest and listening to Martin describe the cows he’s seen on his walks. The thought of Jon leaving—of losing him, the same way he lost Nino—makes his stomach twist into knots, because Martin loves him.

Just … not in the way that Jon thinks he does. Not anymore.

And Martin can’t help but feel guilty about that fact.

Jon frowns at Martin for a moment more, like he can tell that something’s wrong but he’s not entirely sure what. Martin breathes out slowly and gives Jon as genuine a smile as he can muster, trying to convey that everything is fine. That nothing’s wrong—why would anything be wrong?

It must work, because Jon exhales slowly, his expression softening into one of the gentle smiles that Martin has grown so fond of. He rubs a thumb over the back of Martin’s hand in a motion that should be comforting but only reminds Martin of the fact that Jon is doing it because he loves him.

Martin thinks that Jon is going to kiss him then—isn’t that usually what comes after things like this?—and dread coils in his stomach. But Jon doesn’t. Later, Martin will find out that Jon dislikes kisses just as much as he does (though for different reasons). For now, though, Martin can only feel relief when Jon squeezes his hand once more before letting go and standing. “I’ll go make us some tea,” he says quietly, then retreats to the kitchen.

Thinking back on it, Martin wonders if Jon knew then. That something was wrong. But for now, he just feels relieved that he has the space he needs to breathe.

.

.

.

It’s their second week at the safehouse, just a few days after Jon told Martin that he loves him, that Jon finally sits Martin down after dinner and says softly, “Martin, am I … am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What?” Martin says, like he has no idea what Jon’s talking about. (Like a liar.) “No. What … what makes you think that?”

Jon wrings his hands together. He’s wearing one of Martin’s sweaters, and Martin doesn’t know how he feels about it. The clothes sharing is fine. The fact that Jon is clearly perceiving the clothes sharing as a romantic gesture is … less than fine.

Martin told himself that it would be okay if Jon perceived their relationship as a romantic one and Martin didn’t. He was good at pretending. And besides, how different could things be?

Very different, as it turned out. In all the ways that mattered.

Jon seemed to take any opportunity he could to touch Martin—a hand brushing against the small of his back when he passed behind him to grab a mug, an ankle nudging against his underneath the table as they ate, a head resting on his shoulder as they sat side-by-side and read. Martin had never been particularly touch-averse or touch-starved; touch was just … touch. He’d liked it when Tim had tousled his hair or when Sasha had thrown her legs across his on the breakroom couch, but he didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything on the days he went without any human contact at all.

Now, it’s all Martin can do not to flinch away from Jon’s touches, knowing that each one is delivered with love and affection that Martin can’t return. Though perhaps he hasn’t been doing as good of a job as he’d thought, judging by the concerned look Jon is giving him now.

There have been other things too—whispered I love yous in the early mornings and soft smiles that seem somehow more and little gestures that are so Jon but also so romantic—and Martin wants so badly to disappear back into the fog in those moments. But that … that wouldn’t be fair to Jon. It’s not his fault that Martin is like this, after all.

(It’s not Martin’s fault either. He knows this, logically. He’d spent a long time hating himself for what happened with Nino, for how he couldn’t just be normal and go on dates and enjoy something that the rest of society seemed to prize above all else. It had taken him years to finally come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t broken, and he couldn’t be changed. That this was just … who he was.

It doesn’t mean that sometimes, he doesn’t wish that he could be someone else. And he’s never wanted it more acutely than when he stares at Jon’s kind brown eyes and soft smile.)

So Martin lied and lied and lied. And he thought he’d been doing so successfully. But here Jon is, frowning at him, a careful distance between them, and Martin feels his chest begin to tighten.

“I just…” Jon begins, then stops. He looks down at the couch, studying the ugly floral pattern with apparent rapt fascination. Martin doesn’t know what to say, so he waits anxiously until Jon finally continues, “It doesn’t feel like you’re … happy. I know that things have been hard, a-and … it’s all right if you still need time after the Lonely, but it…” Jon swallows. “It feels like some of it may be because of me? W-when I touch you, sometimes you get … tense. And sometimes…”

“Jon?” Martin prompts after a moment, the word strangled by the growing lump in his throat.

“Sometimes,” Jon says quietly, “when you tell me that you love me, it … it feels like you’re lying.”

And the way Jon says it—tentative, with wide, hesitant eyes, like he’s the one that’s the problem—makes Martin’s desire to keep up the ruse crumble away in an instant.

It still isn’t easy to come clean. But he forces himself to do it anyway.

“It’s complicated,” he begins, then winces. Not a good start. Sure enough, Jon’s shoulders grow tense, and he shifts slightly further away, like he thinks Martin wants more space. Because he thinks he’s done something wrong. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Martin adds quickly. It’s not you, it’s me, he thinks wryly. “It’s … not your fault.”

Jon opens his mouth—to say what, Martin doesn’t know. He barrels on before Jon gets the chance to speak, his haste making his words harried and blunt.

“I’m aromantic.”

Jon blinks at him, clearly surprised by the abruptness of the statement. After a long, awkward moment, during which it becomes abundantly clear that Jon is waiting for Martin to make the next move, Martin continues, “My relationship with—well, with relationships—i-is complicated. I-it’s, um … it’s hard to explain? A-and I don’t want you to think that I—I don’t care about you. I want to be here, w-with you, just…”

“Not in a romantic capacity?” Jon finishes softly.

Martin exhales heavily, feeling a bit like a hole has been punched in his chest and he’s slowly deflating. “Yeah.”

Jon is looking at him with soft, kind eyes, and Martin doesn’t know what to do with them. So he buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice coming out muffled.

“Hey, hey.” Jon’s hand brushes against Martin’s shoulder before pulling away quickly, and that just makes Martin feel worse. “You haven’t done anything wrong either.”

“Yes, I have,” Martin says into his palms. “I lied. I let you think that I—I was still in love with you, and … Christ, that was shitty of me.”

“I … do wish you had told me sooner,” Jon concedes. “But … only because I care about you, Martin, a-and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.” He hesitates. “You … do know that I’m not mad at you, right? Th-that I wouldn’t have been mad, o-or upset, or hurt, if you told me that you didn’t feel the same way about me?”

Martin takes a deep breath, then another. “But I did,” he says raggedly. “For … for so long, I did. Ever since Jane Prentiss locked me in my flat for two weeks and you believed me when I told you about it a-and let me stay in the Archives. A-and I didn’t lie, in the Lonely. I did love you, a-all the way up until…”

Martin trails off. Jon lets the silence linger for a moment before saying gently, “If you don’t want to explain it to me, o-or if it’s hard, you don’t have to. But … if you can, I’d like to understand. For myself, a-and for you.” He wraps his hands tightly around his knees where they’re tucked against his chest. “This is important, and … I want to get this right.”

Martin exhales. He picks at a loose thread on the couch between them, focusing on it so he doesn’t have to meet Jon’s eyes and can pretend like he isn’t so extremely exposed and vulnerable right now. “I … I do want to explain. O-or I want to try. It’s … hard, though. Mostly b-because I’ve never had to explain it to anybody else? But also because … I don’t really understand why I’m like this.”

Jon opens his mouth, and Martin holds up a hand. “I know, I know—you don’t … have to comment on that.”

Jon closes his mouth and tentatively shifts so his knee is pressing against Martin’s. Martin waits for the tingling of his skin, the pins-and-needles discomfort, but it never comes. Maybe it’s because he knows that this is an act of comfort rather than one of affection. It’s … really nice.

He presses back with a sigh, feeling a bit of the tension and nerves drain out of him. “I—I get that love is difficult for me,” he says quietly. “I’ve just … always had trouble with the fact that what makes it difficult is that I’m someone who apparently never actually wants their love … requited. And if it is, I just … can’t anymore. It all goes away, a-and I just … fall out of love?”

Martin can feel Jon’s eyes on him, inquisitive and searching, but Jon doesn’t say anything. There’s a moment of silence between them, during which Martin tries and fails to collect his mess of feelings and thoughts and emotions into something that he can verbalize. Finally, Martin sighs and says, “It’s ironic, isn’t it. I’ve loved you for so long, a-and I still do, but … not in the way you love me. Not anymore. And now you’re the one who—who loves someone w-who doesn’t … who can’t…”

“Oh, no, Martin.” Jon’s hand is covering his then, and it’s warm and gentle and lovely, and Martin could cry. “I’m not…” He hesitates, squeezing Martin’s hand once. “Well. I am still in love with you. In the … romantic sense. I—I don’t want to lie to you about that. B-but I also love you in … so many other ways. Y-you’re my friend, Martin, a-and you’re someone that I can trust. You … you make me feel safe, e-even when there’s … so much in my life that’s dangerous and unpredictable, and I know that you’ll … always be there for me when I need you to be. I want to be here with you, always. I would … be happy in a romantic relationship with you, yes. But I would also be happy to just be with you. In whichever way you will have me.”

Martin’s throat feels very tight. “Oh,” he says faintly. He feels a pressure at the corner of his eyes and realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that there are actual tears collecting there. He stares hard at the lamp just behind Jon, trying not to let any of them escape.”You, um … you really … mean that?”

“Of course,” Jon says, like there’s no question to be had about the matter. “You are … such an easy person to love, Martin. In all the ways it’s possible to love someone.”

Martin tries—he really does—to keep the tears back. But it’s just … so much, and Jon is so lovely, and this is more than Martin ever thought he was going to be able to have. So he takes a shaky breath in, and on the exhale, a few tears slip free and trail down his cheek. He brings a hand up and scrubs them away, mutters a sorry underneath his breath, but Jon just squeezes his hand tighter.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, I’m … I’m here. I’m not leaving you.” Jon hesitates. “Provided that that’s … all right with you, of course.”

Martin can’t help the shaky laugh that escapes him. “Yes, it’s all right with me. Of course it is.”

Jon smiles, and Martin aches with it. “Good.” He nudges his knee gently against Martin’s. “Because this cottage would get very dull without you in it. Who would I talk to about all of Daisy’s awful romance novels?”

Martin laughs again, and it chases away most of the lingering tension in his body. “Be careful what you wish for. I’m going to start doing dramatic readings next.”

Jon’s eyes sparkle with humor, but his voice is sincere when he says, “I look forward to it.”

True to his word, over the next week, Martin does increasingly dramatic readings of the worn, water-warped romance novels stacked haphazardly on the safehouse shelves. (Skipping the, quote, ‘unnecessarily erotic’ bits to avoid Jon’s pinched look of discomfort and his own beet-red face as he stares down at words that should really not be used in a sexual context ever.) He bakes cookies, laughing when Jon drops the cup of flour he’s holding and ends up covered in it. He spends the first three walks after their conversation wringing his hands together before finally asking, in a series of nervous stutters, if Jon would like to hold hands while they walk.

“But not in a romantic way!” he hastens to clarify. “You just have very nice hands, a-and I’ve always liked the idea of holding someone else’s hand, but—you know, th-the romantic connotations of it aren’t … great, and … you know, now that I think about it, this was a stupid question, you don’t have to—”

And then Jon takes his hand and squeezes it gently, and Martin feels a warmth spread through him that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

That’s been happening a lot lately. He … doesn’t think he minds at all.

Then, a few weeks after their conversation, Jon turns over in bed to face him and says, without any preamble, “Have you ever heard of a queerplatonic relationship?”

Martin has, but only in passing, so he shakes his head. Jon explains, sounding very much like he’s reciting the wiki page for the concept, which is … more endearing than it has any right to be, probably.

“Does … does that sound like something you might be interested in?” Jon says nervously. “W-with me, of course. If that wasn’t … clear.”

Martin nods before Jon is finished speaking. “Yeah,” he says, maybe a bit too eagerly. Then, quieter: “Yeah. I’d … I’d like that.”

Jon smiles then, bright and wide and lovely, and it occurs to Martin—not for the first time, and probably not for the last—that he can have this. That he can be with Jon—maybe for the rest of his life, though that’s a … big thought that he definitely isn’t ready to look at head-on yet—without the dates and the kissing and all the other romantic gestures that Martin always thought were necessary for something like this. That they can be happy, together.

That Martin can have his fairy tale ending, and it doesn’t have to look like he’s always been told it should.

Martin smiles back at Jon, reaching across the bed to brush his fingers lightly against Jon’s. And for the first time in a long, long while, he finally feels like he’s home.

[hamliet]

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses. 

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good 

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent. 

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated. 

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper. 

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character. 

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic. 

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended. 

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but... 

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression. 

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why?  Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive). 

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle. 

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any. 

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind. 

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development. 

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling. 

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good: 

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast. 

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About: 

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal 

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,”  and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia. 

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great. 

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh. 

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though. 

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask. 

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (08)

word count; 12,516

summary; noah does his best to fit in, and it doesn’t quite go as planned, but that’s okay.

notes; it’s finally happening.

warnings; noah is a bit of a jerk, but it’s over pretty quickly.

The sun was out again, the grass was filled with people, and it seems that they had gained the good luck you had missed. This sun was bringing warmth, a radical change from only a  week ago, as your sundress today was entirely fitting. With hair clipped back away from your shoulders to keep cool and sunscreen on your bare skin to stop yourself from burning, you were soaking up the rays.

The group you were gathered with had been lucky enough to snag a table to sit out at, blankets laid out and pinned down in the light breeze by picnic blankets, shoes and rocks for those who hadn't made it to a table in time, and you didn’t envy them at all. Despite the warmth, the grass was still a little damp, mud still tar-like as it moved toward drying out, and yet the space was still heaving. It mildly resembled that of a festival or a beach on the Fourth of July.

Leaning back a little, your face tipped up to the sky, the chatter of your friends surrounding you drowning out as warmth washed over your face, lids closed but barely doing anything to block out the light, and you smiled. You loved the summer, always had, it was your favourite season. Something about the warmth, the longer nights and the smoky smell that came with barbecues or the salt of the ocean at the beach. As you sat, face directed to the sky, the sun was suddenly blocked, a cooler air falling over you, and your frowned, cracking your eyes open to see what had happened.

“Noah, hi.” You beamed, sitting up properly to turn around, and the man nodding his head, a hint of a smile on his face. A pair of dark black sunglasses were sitting on his nose, a pretty contrast to dark hair and darker denim jeans, a charcoal t-shirt on his shoulders, but there was no jacket. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and as his presence was made known, several others around the table greeted him, too. He seemed to have a warmer reaction to them, a wonderful smile as he offered his greetings, and your brows furrowed a little.

You ignored the action, despite its unfamiliarity with you. He was treating you once again like he had done months ago, when first getting to know you, a time when there was no trust built between you both. Taking a seat beside you at the table, you only just had a chance to move your skirt out of the way before he was sitting down. Swinging his bag over to the side, you waited for him to say anything else, his hands sitting atop the table as his forearms leaned on the wood, and your frown was only deepening.

Running a finger along his forearm, his face turned to you, brows rising up from behind the glasses, and a smirk on his face.

“You okay, there?” He teased, your eyes narrowing on him just a little, and his arm flexed slightly under your touch, before he was pulling his arm away from you, and the smirk on his face widened. “What? There’s something going on up there, so you might as well spill it.”

“Nothing, I guess.” Your words were mumbled out, and he only nodded, not bothering to wait for a second longer, before he was turning back to the conversation. Something within your stomach twisted. Confusion at his behaviour, uncertainty whether it was something you had done, or whether this was simply who he was when he didn’t let his anxiety get in the way. “I just thought I wasn’t seeing you until later, is all?”

“I thought I’d join you for lunch. Is that so bad?” He was grinning again, a more cocky smile than you were used to seeing from him, and on the few occasions you had seen it, it was never in a setting like this. “I thought you wanted me to get out there, make friends. Is it because I’m not all yours anymore?”

A couple of the other boys around the tables chuckled, various girlfriends and partners slapping at their arms in retaliation for the joke about being controlling, and your lips pursed into a thin line. “No. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

He seemed a little taken aback by your shorter tone with him, one of your brows raising slightly in a challenge to his behaviour. Taking his glasses from the tip of his nose, he folded them in the middle, tucking them into his shirt, to rest on his colour. Sweet brown eyes were searching your own, and you shrugged a little. His smirk lessened, becoming a slight frown, and for a moment, you thought he was going to leave behind whatever it was that was wrong and let you in, but then, he was stolen away into a conversation.

Just a brief mention of his name was all that it took, and his focus was moving away from you entirely. You were glad that he had made more friends, you really were. You’d been working hard to try and introduce him to new people in a way that wouldn't spark his anxiety. Run-ins on walks the two of you shared, people you bumped into while out getting coffee or simply introducing him to someone you knew that you thought he’d get along with.

You’d seen Noah every single day for the last week, there hadn't been a moment that wen toast that the two of you hadn't been in contact, whether in person or via text. For as many days as you could count now, he was the last person you’d spoken to before going to bed, and the first person you had spoken to when waking up in the morning. He was the person who made you laugh when you were stressed, and the man who sent you recipes when you didn’t know what to cook. He was the person who sat by your side doodling on the tops of your work pages while you tried to get some studying done, before eventually distracting you enough to give up.

You couldn’t place anything you’d done wrong. The last time you’d seen him had been the afternoon before, when you’d gotten a coffee together and walked around campus, and you’d spoken to him only an hour or so ago. His behaviour made no sense to you, it was unprompted and without reason, and it was leaving the feeling of a put welling in your stomach.

The thought of it being some kind of reverse attempt at soothing his anxiety flittered over your mind, and so in an attempt to test the theory, you leaned over. Shuffling up close to his side, your arm looped through his, and he paused his speech for just a second. He’d been talking to the boy across from you both, telling them all about the renovation work he’d spent a summer doing with his dad on the house, and he turned to look at you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for his arm to tighten around yours, to pull you in a little closer. A smile, a kiss to your forehead, something softer than the look you got with an arrogant smirk that made you feel like you were locked out from him, and when he turned back to continue the conversation without any of the options that had run through your head, your discomfort only increased.

Your arm sagged against his, his arm flexing for a second a spike of hope raced through you. But, he was simply shifting, his arm moving away from yours in a way that made you shuffle backwards. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his phone, laughing slightly at a joke that you hadn't caught from someone else around the table, and you pulled your hand back into your lap instead of placing it back through his arm.

Everything about it made you uncomfortable. The wondering, the insecurity, the fear of having done something wrong and forced him back into his shell with you. It was enough to make you feel sick to your stomach, and despite your lingering gaze on him for minutes now, he never turned to you. Checking your phone, the afternoon was tickling on. Your lunch was passed finished, your afternoon wide open with nothing else to do, as it seemed all plans with Noah seemed to have fallen through with his new personality.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, the new attitude was like that of half of your exes, or your friends and the people who were around you. You didn’t mind it so much on them, of course, it would the attitude that they would greet you with, because there was nothing deeper between you with them. Every friendship you had was teasing, there was nothing that merited anymore more. With them, your physical contact was limited to that of greetings and goodbyes, hugs and the occasional kiss to the cheek.

With Noah, though, you’d felt like something was different.

You’d felt like perhaps there was something more between you both, something a little beyond simple friendship. Something flirty, the kind of sweet-like-honey feeling that made you get butterflies and have your cheeks ache from smiling, or your eyes sore from staying up late, staring at a screen in the dark just to talk to him.

Clearly, that wasn’t how he felt, too.

You tried to join the conversation, to talk to the girls around you as the men were all sucked into a chat that you evidently weren’t intended to be a part of. You could keep up for a while offering your input on everything they talked about. You liked that about the girls you were friends with, they were easy to skip between topics, moving from one thing to another with ease, and sharing gossip that they had heard.

For a while, it made you feel better, a little more comforted and a little less alone, but despite his presence right next to your side, the warmth from his body and the brief brushes of his shoulder with yours when he moved, but it only made you feel more lonely. You felt shut out, as though the cold wall that you had spent so long breaking down had shot right back up, twice as thick. You couldn't take it anymore.

Packing away your books into your bag, you stood from the table, several pairs of eyes moving to you as you stood, and you offered them all the best smile that you could muster at that moment. Once they were all sealed away, you placed your bag up on your shoulder, and your hands met the wood. Leaning over slightly, the conversation went quiet as you became the centre of attention.

“Sorry to break this up, but I got to go.” Several soft complaints came, attempts to convince you to stay, and you smiled at the effort that at least some of your friends were making. “If anything exciting happens, text me.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I was just thinking we should go and get some coffee, or something.”

Laurel was staring up at you expectantly, her eyes a little wider and you sighed, shaking your head. As much as you’d loved to, the bad mood you had gained from Noah’s new attitude was bringing down your social battery, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last. “I would, but I have some studying to do, and a couple of other things. I’ll catch up with you later, though, alright?”

There were some goodbyes, and even a hug from the girl beside you, before you were beginning to trail away from them. The chatter around the table was quickly replaced by the groups you began to weave through, a polite smile on your face to everyone you passed by as you tried not to encourage any more conversations. By the time you were reaching the edge of the grass and moving to the concrete, the heavy footfalls of another person moving slightly faster than you were catching you up.

A hand on your shoulder, pulling you lightly to a stop, and as you turned around, you yes scanned up to find the face of a man you were familiar with as your instinct kicked in, accustomed to his height by now. “Where you goin’?” He questioned, panting a little from the effort he’d exerted to catch up with you, and you tried not to scowl at him as he stared.

His face was softer now, instead of the cheeky look he’d been holding all afternoon, it was something much more genuine and earnest, the kind of look you were used to from him. It was throwing you through a loop just trying to keep up with him. “Home. I have some work to do.”

You moved again, walking away from him, and he let out a confused grunt, boots scuffling on the tarmac of the parking lot as he caught back up to you. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were supposed to be going to the garage? I’m working on your car tonight, I brought new bulbs for your headlights because they’re kinda’ dimmed, and I don’t want you getting into an accident or anything.”

You frowned, eyes narrowing on him for a second, and your shoulders slumped under his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” His hand reached out, trailing down along your arm towards your hand, and he had the audacity to let a hurt look flicker across his face when you pulled back from him by just a fraction. It was enough, though. Enough for his hand to fall away, his fingertips brushing over your arm, before it fell back to his side, dismay evident on his face.

“What is with this hot and cold act you have going on?” His jaw dropped, no words coming out, and heat crawled up along his cheeks slightly while he gaped at you. Instead, you took the initiative, shaking your head a little at him, and he only sank in on himself a little further. “You were so sweet this morning. The Noah I’ve come to know, and then suddenly at lunch, you’re this different person. Kinda’ a jerk, actually. Now, you’re all gentlemanly again. I don’t get you, but I don’t want to hang out with someone who’s gonna’ pick me up and drop me like a yo-yo.”

His eyes flicked over your face, lips pursing closed in a tight line, and you waited a moment longer. As the silence grew, you moved away from him, taking steps again a little further, and it was a few more seconds before he moved again. He was slower, long strides falling him into step beside you, and he didn’t try to stop you, but his head hung a little, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, alright? But when the other Noah shows back up, let me know.”

He chuckled, dry and hollow, before he was rounding in front of you, giving you only a second to stop before you were colliding with him, and there were mere inches between your bodies. Staring up at him, your brows shot up again, and he tried to offer a gentle smile to you. “I just thought that if I acted the way your other friends acted, I’d fit in a little better, and you’d like me more.”

“You were trying to get me to like you more? By acting like a dick, and making me feel weird about ‘us’?”

“Reverse psychology?” He whispered, and he relaxed when the smile on your face came out.

“I’m the psychology major, leave that to me.” You teased, and he nodded his head. Leaning down, his nose brushed over your forehead, lips pressing to your skin in a soft kiss, the act you were used to, and you sighed as he did. “There he is.”

His hands smoothed over your sides, pulling you in closer and your hand came up to rest on his cheek. Stroking the skin across his cheekbone gently with your thumb, his head tipped into your hand.

“I don’t want you to be anyone else, okay? I like you plenty enough just the way you are.”

“You’ll still come hang out with me, then? Because it gets lonely when you don’t keep me company at the garage, now. I’ve become accustomed to having company.” He reached out again, his hand smoothing along your arm, and you didn’t pull away this time. Rather, you let his hands find yours, fingers weaving together until your palms were pressed up to one another. He smiled, something bashful and dopey, and it was an adorable kind of expression. The cold of the band he had wrapped around his thumb today was rubbing against your finger, and you squeezed at his hand. “I’m gonna’ take that as a ‘yes’.”

“‘Kay, I forgive you. Don’t get weird again, though.” He nodded his head, making you grin as he tugged you in a new direction, a ninety-degree angle to head towards the bike. He made his promise, making you grin when he held out a tattooed finger for you to link your own with, sealing the promise together.

Opening up the back-box on the bike, and pulling out your helmet. Letting you settle your things inside, he placed the helmet down on your head, pulling your hair back and out of the way. Leaning in, his lips brushed over your nose, breath panted lightly over your lips, something heavier settling over the both of you, and you couldn’t help the breathy giggle you let out.

You reached for his helmet, having learned where the catch underneath the seat was, and you opened it up to select the protection from inside. Lifting it, he ducked his head to let you place the helmet on his head, brushing back the longer strands of chocolate-brown hair to settle it there. Smoothing your fingers down along his jaw, you fastened up the catch under his chin, his head tipping up to let you do so. Before his head moved down, you shifted upward, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he was beaming when his head came back down.

His finger spinach the tip of your nose, between his thumb and his index, your face screwing up with a soft laugh when he did. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Swinging your leg over the bike, you settle down first, your hands landing on the steering, a dangerous look portrayed him as you smirked. “In a summer dresses and lollipops kind of way, right?”

“Mhm.” He teased, fastening your helmet up and tipping it to sit properly on your head as he stood before you. Moving his eyes further down, his sights scanned over you “You look good on my bike.”

“You should let me drive. I think I’ve got it, now. I would be awesome at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as you shuffled back to make space for him. With every catch done up and the boxes sealed, his leg swung over the bike, settling himself down on the leather. With the impact of him sitting, you slid down the seat, the insides of your thighs pressing to the outsides of his own, and your front was pressed to his back. His hand came out, circling behind his body to find your wrists, and he pulled your arms around his body. “If you drove, how would I get you to hold onto me like this? I like the attention, what can I say?”

“You could just ask.”

“Oh, yeah?” He twisted the keys in the ignition, the bike sparking to life underneath you, and your hands tightened a little more around him. Revving the bike slightly, he kicked off the latch that kept it secured to the ground, balancing it between his own feet as you tucked yours away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should.” You mumbled, chin tucked over his shoulder to whisper the words near his ear, and you could see the smile stretch on his face. Pulling back, your forehead rested between his shoulder blades, squeezing him once in signal to let him know you were ready, and then he took off.

You’d grown used to it now, the slight grind of the tyres on the concrete as he took off and then the streets whizzing by. You like the sights, the way the lights seemed to become like a blur when you moved, The tips and tilts, the way the bike bounced when you went through potholes or over the bumps in the road, it had all started to feel natural. It was the same when you were with him.

Noah had been a stranger to you, but he was a constant in your life now. He was by your side more than he wasn’t now, and you couldn't deny the bond that you’d formed with him It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He didn’t force you to be anything you weren’t, he didn’t make you feel insecure, or less worthy, or like you had to constantly be the best version of yourself to impress him. He didn’t drain you down like others did, he didn’t make you feel less, or like you couldn't be yourself. You loved who you were around him, and how being with him made you feel.

Twisting your head, your eyes closed, cheek resting against his back as he moved. He was going slower than usual today, the journey taking a little longer, and while the quiet was filling the space between you both, it was comfortable. Everything with Noah seemed to be that way, now. The two of you were seemingly opposites, everything about you felt like something that would clash but there was just something between the two of you that worked. Like magnets drawn together, or opposing puzzle pieces, you fit together perfectly.

He forced you out of your comfort zone, to do things like ride a motorbike while you forced him to approach the people he’d seemingly decided hate him, only to discover he was capable of making friends. Each of your downfalls, he seemed to lift up. One by one, he was raising you up, making you a better person, and giving back to you just as much as you gave to him. It was effortless to be around him, something that had happened both slowly and at light speed. Winning his trust had turned into so much more, once the door had been opened, it was like the two of you had moved past acquaintances and friends, to hover on the verge of something else.

He was constantly on your mind, and when he wasn’t, it didn’t take long before you saw something that reminded you of him, a joke or a comment online, even just the way someone would walk across campus or the outfit they’d wear, it all seemed to come back to him.

When the pair of you had finally pulled up to the edge of his garage, he was cruising slowly between the sheds. More doors than usual were open today, the crowds were a little busier, but with the sunny weather, you weren’t so surprised. The tones of different music melded together, more students willing to come and spend prolonged periods of time outside when the weather was warm, and the days lasted longer.

Setting up the stand on the bike, your feet reached the floor, trembling a little still from the vibrations of the engine. The sounds went dead as he pulled the keys from the machine, but neither of you moved, his hands dropping down to find your own for just a second, and you lifted one hand. Your fingers weaved with his, before he was pulling your hand up, kissing the back of your hand gently, and the feeling made something explode within you. Butterflies, a tidal wave, something crushing and exhilarating and racing all in one, your heart beating erratically as he lowered your hand back down. “I’m sorry about before. I just wanted to be more like other people you hang out with, other people you’re friends with, or you’ve dated, or whatever. I didn’t want to be a freak.”

Standing up from the bike, you undid the catch on your helmet, putting it down on the seat as he copied your actions, going from looking up at you to once again looking down as he stood taller than you. “You know, when I’m with you, I feel so much better than I do when I’m with them.”

“I just want to be the right guy, you know? Be someone everyone likes, be someone who can fit in. Stiles does it so effortlessly, I can’t be like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to, because I think you’re great the way you are.” You tapped the tip of his nose, the same way he had done to you, and his face screwed up with ticklish responses exactly the same way that you had. “It’s a good thing you cut that out, though, because I got you something.”

“A gift?” He whispered, and you only nodded. Opening the box on the back of the bike, you swapped the helmet in your hand for your bag, laying it out onto the seat so that you had access to it. Opening up the bag and digging through it, you searched until your fingers brushed the silky material, and you could grasp the small item.

“It’s just something small.” You mumbled, beginning to untangle it from the contents inside, and hoping it hadn't gotten creased. Producing the item, his eyes dropped down from your face to the item in your hands, a neutral expression taking over as he considered it. “I like to put decals on my laptop, and all the ones I had were getting old and peeling. I was ordering some new ones, and I saw this one. It made me think of you.”

“It's a daisy.” He took it from you, thumb stroking across the shining plastic, and you nodded.

“Yeah, from the day that you and I sat in the field, and you let me put daisies in your hair.” You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly, and fluffing it back up from where it had fallen flat. “I figure you could put it on your laptop, or bedpost, or maybe don’t stick it to anything. You could put it on your pinboard in your room, or use it as a bookmark. I don’t know.”

“I love it.”

“You do?” Your heart had been racing, the uncertain expression he had that you couldn't possibly decipher became something like the sun, a wide smile as his chewed-down thumbnail picked at the edges. Peeling the plastic backing away from the transparent and inked design, your brows raised. He moved, pressing the edge of the plastic onto his bike, and sealing it down firmly, your eyes widening. “Noah! That’s your bike!”

“I know. I’ve never had a decal on it before.”

“But, what if it ruins your paint job, or something? I didn’t expect you to stick it on your bike, of all things!” He smirked, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as you rambled to him. Your eyes moved to the sticker, your face cupped by warm palms as your finger smoothed over it, the white and yellow standing out prominently against the black. “What if you decide you don’t like it, or you hate where it’s positioned, or-”

Your breath was held in your lungs as he dipped down closer than he’d ever been as his nose bumped against yours. Your lips brushed, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slowly, and you let out a shaky groan as he did. Your eyes closed, lashes tickling against his as he lingered there The tension was palpable, the split second that he lingered there felt like a thousand dragging on, before his lips met your own.

Soft and warm, his lips pressed tentatively against yours at first, a second becoming two that was filled with hesitation. It was simply his pressed to your own, nothing happened for a second, before it did. His lips moved, fingers digging a little more firmly into your jaw, and his palms slid down. His hand was sitting over your neck, feeling the pounding of your pulse under his hand no doubt, and your mind finally seemed to catch up.

Your lips twisted, a smile making itself evident, and your giggle was muffled against his lips as you sagged a little in his hold. His grip loosened a little, his kisses stopped, pulling back enough to press his forehead to your own, taking a breath, before he was pulling away. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

There was gravel in his voice, and he swallowed thickly to clear it away, pupils wider than you’d ever seen them when he looked back to you. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I was just caught off-guard.”

“Couldn’t have been that off-guard, I’ve not really been subtle, lately.”

“I just figured I’d have to make the first move.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and one hand lowered further. Smoothing over your side, his hand found your hip, rubbing soothing circles through the material and your whole body felt lost. Like you were floating in the clouds, but weights were tied to your fingertips, arms heavy as you raised them to loop around his neck. “Kiss me again. I won’t laugh this time, I swear.”

“If you do, I’m never kissing you again.” He mumbled, dipping down to brush a pout over your lips, and you scoffed slightly, head pushing up to meet him.

“Liar.” Your words were lost, mouth meeting his in a sweet kiss, and he sighed through his nose as you connected with him. This time, you were ready. Your lips moved back with his, a soft and slow kiss that nothing like you’d ever experienced before.

It was like fireworks, every place he touched as the hand on your waist flexed, and the one from your neck smoothed down along your bag to pull him closer. Your fingertips were tingling, one hand slipping to the back of his neck to hold him close as his mouth worked with yours in a way that emptied your mind. You were clinging to him, one hand down over his chest, feeling his heart racing through his shirt, and as he pulled away, one of his hands came up to hold onto your own on his chest.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. In fact, you were both completely speechless, a few more stolen pecks and bumps of your noses, before there was a grin cracking on your cheeks that you couldn’t contain, and he stood tall again, a kiss on your forehead before he was tucking you under his chin and close to his body.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while. I didn’t know it would feel like that, though.” He whispered, hands taking yours on both sides, linking your fingers together as you rested against his, and you could only nod in agreement.

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me back.” He shrugged, and you pulled away, shock written on your face when he peered down to see you.

“I’ve not really been subtle, lately.” You threw his own words back at him, slightly pinker lips than usual showing off white teeth in a smile, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Wanna’ fix my car and talk mechanic to me and I’ll pretend I know what you’re saying?”

“I’ll simplify it for you.” He teased, letting go of your hands after one final squeeze to retrieve his belongings. Zipping up your bag and slinging it over one shoulder, he swapped his helmet for his backpack, tucking his keys into the front pocket, and you followed him around to the front of the building. Putting in the code on the padlock, he undid the lock at the bottom, the rickety metal shutter rolling up higher and higher until the whole doorway was exposed.

Your car lay inside, the hood already popped open and the engine was taken apart. Pieces were on the floor and the counters, like some kind of mechanic gore scene, and you jumped a little as he threw the heavy padlock onto the wooden table. Your bag followed, his was dumped by the side of the car, and he pulled it open, producing four boxes of lightbulbs for your car, shaking each one for a second to ensure they hadn't broken. He seemed pleased with what he heard, laying the boxes along the roof of the car.

It was propped up now, sitting on an angle as it was elevated into the air, and the board that he used to slide under it was still on the floor, indicating that it had been recently used. Taking your phone from your bag, you grabbed for the speaker, hidden in the same place you’d put it on your latest session with him, and began to untangle the wire. Once it was set up, pulled out as far from the wall as it would go, you set your phone down, plugging the device in.

The light on the base changed from red to green, signalling that it had connected, and the speaker let out a crackling sound to confirm the volume. Adjusting the dial a little, and being aware of Noah’s neighbours surrounding you, you turned it down a fraction. As you scrolled through the first couple of sounds, beginning to choose a set to start queuing up, a warm body was meeting your back, and hand smoothing around your waist to sit over your stomach, and once again, your mind was going blank.

His chin hooked onto your shoulder, your heart racing in your chest and a flush covered your entire body, somehow managing to feel like you were on fire in your own skin while also shivering a little, goosebumps rising along your exposed arms. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the skin of your shoulder just to the left of your dress strap, and you leaned back into him a little.

Physical contact was nothing new between the two of you, and had he taken these actions only a day or so ago, you probably would have had a calmer reaction than you did now, but there was something more hanging over it now. A line crossed, a new page in the book, something entirely different that made it that much more exhilarating.

You continue your scrolling, the soft melodies of ‘Brandy’ playing across the air, and the man behind you hummed approvingly. “I forgot that this song even existed. It’s a good choice.”

“It’s my favourite song.” You mumbled, your body beginning to sway side to side with his own in a very simple dance. The tune took up, and you sang lightly under your breath to yourself, Noah humming along behind you as you continued to add songs. Occasionally, he would join you, his finger coming out to tap or point at the screen, a silent suggestion on which ones to add, and within a few minutes, the songs were collected. Enough for an hour, at least, possibly even two, and then you could reconsider what to play when the music ran out.

“Your car should be up and running soon, I’ve been making some pretty good progress on it.”

You turned to face him, sitting down backwards on the spinning stool with the wooden top, and he was walking back toward the car, the toolbox on the opposite workbench already open. His back was to you, grey shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the muscles in his back evident when he leaned over and you let your eyes linger a little longer than usual. The blush you got every time you realised you were checking him out was still present, but it didn’t feel as taboo as it had previously.

“There’s something rattling in your engine and I can’t figure out what, I’ve taken out everything he could be, so I’m starting to think it’s something underneath.”

“That why this place looks like a car’s worst nightmare?” You teased, eyes moving across the pieces of removed engine, and he chuckled, sifting through the tools inside.

“Pretty much. I’ll put it all back together, though, don’t worry. I’ll feel better knowing you’re out on the road in something safe.” You cooed a little at him, his sweet gesture making your chest flood with adoration, bursting from the inside out, and he only rolled his eyes at you, glancing back over his shoulder for a split second. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do once it’s fixed, or where we’ll hang out.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Your tone was coy, and he chuckled, turning back to look at you. He had chosen what he was looking for, something that looked like a short and blunt tool. You weren’t sure what the folded end would be used for, but he was straight into action, leaning over your engine and reaching inside. Twisting in your seat, you reached for your bag, pulling out all of your books. Flicking through your notebook to find the latest empty page, your bag sat open. You’d gathered more than enough information from the pair to be able to start making your conclusions now, but you still felt behind.

Stiles was much further ahead, he had started forming his conclusions and searching for holes in his evidence almost three weeks ago, and he was beginning to redraft his final presentations as he produced a first copy. You were still a while off of being at that stage, becoming progressively more distracted by Noah and the puzzle he presented as you deciphered him, but you couldn't help it.

He was rattling around behind you, a sound that had distracted you for a while at first but had become background noise just like the music had, fading into something that helped your mind to work better than the silence ever did. Your notes seemed like they were blurring on the page, your mind far too busy thinking about recent events than the notes you’d taken on the two.

The songs ticked by, the tinkering behind you fading away and starts and ends of your engineer turning on and off, rattling slightly and making the air around you vibrate for just a second. Your pen scribbled song your paper comparing answers and beginning to draw what information you could and in the times that your mind wandered, you doodled borders around the notes that were just for you to see. The notebook that had once been fresh and crisply pressed was now ragged around the edges, worn pages from constant flicking back and forth, filled with ink and your thoughts as you tried to get them all down.

Occasionally, Noah would come over to join you, a half-drunk bottle of water that he was getting through as he leaned don the unit beside you. His notes had joined your one, his thoughts written down onto the paper, sometimes a joke, something with a sarcastic comment about what you had written, and sometimes it was just his one doodles to join yours.

The work was progressively getting done, and while it wasn’t nearly proceeding at the rate you would get it done alone, you preferred working slower and having his company than racing through it but being all alone. It was more enjoyable, especially when he began to relax more, the deeper rasp of his voice like a security blanket that forced your body to relax once he let go enough to start singing along lowly to the songs.

By the fourth one he had sung, you realised you hadn't written anything in almost ten minutes, pen hovering over the page, and it was beginning to feel hopeless. The sweltering heat was beginning to settle over you like a thick blanket on a too-hot summer’s night. As the afternoon moved on, the breeze was dying down, and the once temperate heat was becoming stifling as it sat stagnantly.

Closing your book and folding your pen inside, you called it a day, deeming it a good day’s work as you put your notebook into your bag, zipping it up, and a soft sound of something dropping beside you caught your attention. Turning around, a slightly damp pile of grey sat beside you, and upon picking it up for further inspection, you released it was a t-shirt.

Turning to the car, the man you were with had disappeared underneath, melodic voice bouncing from the metal on the underside of your car, but the happy trail of dark hairs along the bottom of a toned stomach was still visible, and your mouth rapidly dried at the sight. You turned away, feeling wrong for staring, but like a magnet, your gaze was drawn back to him.

Folding the material you still held neatly as something to simply busy yourself, the chair squeaked as you twisted to place it back down on top of your bag, no longer in a crumpled heap, before turning back to the vehicle. With elbows braced on the edge of the wooden counter, your eyes moved along it. Still covered in a layer of dirt and dust, it needed a good wash, but you’d hadn't bothered to venture as far as the carwash in a long time, trying to save the little life it had left for important travel. As soon as it was back in your possession, however, that would be one of your first priorities.

Moving a little further along, your eyes reached the back wheels, new tyres having been one of the first things Noah had done for you the grip on the other’s fading away, and you vaguely remembered him telling you all about the brake-pads at some point. His chatter about mechanics always became a mess in your mind, much like you were sure your psychology chatter became for him, but you listened intently and tried to keep up, just as he did for you. Simply hearing him talk so passionately was a treasure in itself.

“Oh, my God, you got that dent out.” Your eyes honed in on the spot, and while it wasn’t exactly perfect, it was considerably better than it had been. The wheels of the board scraped along the ground, sliding his body out from under the vehicle.

“Yeah, I noticed it when swapping out your tyres.” You turned back up him, the wide beam on your face dimming a little in shock, because you’d managed to forget his shirtless state for just a second, but now, it was crashing over you all in a sudden rush. His hands were stained with oil, and he stood up the folded muscles from his hunched position going taut as he stood, and he grabbed the nearest scrap of fabric he had, trying to wipe down his hands as best as he could. “It wasn’t too hard, I just had to hammer it out and smooth it over.”

“That was there since I got the car, I thought I’d never get it out!”

Your voice was a little shaky, and as he made his way over, your eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his chest. You’d seen him shirtless twice before, but you’d never had the chance to observe the designs up close. Slightly distorted by sweat and the grease from the underside of the car, you couldn't make them all out, and your fingers itched to reach up and trace the drawings that you had yet to discover.

He took the bottle from by your bag, undoing the cap with ease and raising it to take a gulp of the liquid, and every muscle he had seemed to shift and flex under his skin with the simple action. He wasn’t even trying, tired and dirty and sweaty and he was putting no effort in, but you were sure that you hadn't had a coherent thought for hours now. The song playing came to an end, the music fading out into silence, and you waited for the next one to come, but it never did. That was the second loop you’d put the music on, the hours having flown by, and the sun was shining in to leave longer shadows across the floor as it moved across the sky.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Little bit.” You grinned, holding up two fingers but making sure they were very close together, just to show a small amount, and he chuckled. Wiping the back of a hand over his mouth, he cleared excess water from there, before he was holding the bottle out to you. Taking it gratefully, your mouth had been dry and desperate for a drink since the moment he’d pulled away from you after that first kiss, leaving you dried out and thirsty ever since.

Taking a sip, he stepped away from you, moving to grab your car keys from the side unit and moved to the driver’s seat. The door was already open, and rounding it to the other side, he twisted the key to start the car up. The engine came to life almost immediately, no spluttering or grinding of parts, no multiple attempts needed, and it purred happily as it rotated inside itself, as though it was a brand new vehicle. It wasn’t loud or clunking, and there was no unusual sound being made. Clearly, Noah was just as happy with that result, because he cheered a little to himself.

Shifting inside, he checked various options, everything from the indicators to the headlights and the fog lights. The new bulbs were lighting up perfectly and brightly, clear and start white as opposed to the faded yellow they had been beginning to gather with age. “I am so impressed. Like, awestricken, really.”

“Thanks, kitten.'' Just when you thought you’d managed to put a cap on it, and get your head in a reasonable place, he had thrown a petname in your direction. Once again, you were speechless, thoughtless, and senseless, unable to control the dreamy sigh that was almost a breathy giggle at the sound, trying not to fawn too obviously over the new treatment he was giving you. “I think that pretty much does it.”

“So, when do I get to take her home?”

He was beaming, tapping the roof of the car and killing the engine, before nodding his head at himself. “You can drive her home right now, if you just give me a second to unhook and lower it back to the ground at the back.”

“We’re leaving?”

“You’re bored, and we’re pretty much done here.” You frowned, not having intended to bring your time to an end, as though he could read your mind, he continued on with what he had to say. “Doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye just yet. We can find something else to do.” He rounded the car, hooking a finger under your chin to tip your head up to meet his gaze. He was looking down on you with a sweet smile, nothing but peace and serenity written on his face. “You’re sure you really like me? We’re, like, total opposites.”

“Opposites attract.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and he stepped a little closer to you. The chair made you feel too low, his hair falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you stood to meet him, his gaze following you as he did.

“I thought you were just going to be a burden, you know. I thought that doing this study was gonna’ suck, and I was going to be miserable, but getting to know you has been so different so what I expected.”

Lifting his hand, his palm smoothed over your cheek, letting you tip into his touch. “Yeah, well, first impressions can be misleading. I can be pretty cool.”

“You’re the coolest person I know.” He whispered, gaze dropping down to linger on your lips for a second, and you smiled softly, his face mimicking the notion.

He stared for a second longer, before dipping down. He hesitated for just a second, a laugh carried on his breath that you barely caught, and you leaned up too. Your nose brushed his, nervous breaths shared in the hardly-existent space between you both as your lips continued to brush lightly. He dipped down, his lips pressing lightly to your own as the tension finally came to an end, and there was a smile on his lips as he did. It made it hard, the smiles that neither of you could contain, and your hand roe up to cup his cheek.

Timid pecks, delicate laughs between broken kisses as your noses bumped and lips puckered, trying to contain yourselves. Your heart was racing, he was just as nervous as you were, the new boundary as a friendship turned to a relationship, and it would take a little longer to get used. When he pulled back, a final and longer kiss pressed to your lips, that same sweetly dopey expression was on his face, warm cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“I like that.”

“I got oil on your face.” He mumbled, picking up his shirt from beside you both, shaking it out from its folded position. Hooking the edge of it over his thumb, he wiped at the smear on your face, leaning down to press a kiss to the spot once it was cleared, and your cheeks were almost aching for your smile.

He stepped back from you, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and as he walked, he was pulling his shirt up and over his head. Beginning to pump at the jack behind the car with his foot, your car was lowered back to the ground the back wheels finally touching against the concrete again. With a screeching sound against the concrete, he dragged away the piece of equipment, metal scraping on the stonework floor, and he left it abandoned in the back of the shed.

Reaching for the keys at the edge of your car, he threw them to you, barely giving you a second to catch them before he was snickering to himself at your fumbling, the keys jingling in your touch. “C’mon then. You must be excited to get back in your car.”

You nodded, slinging your bag from the side into the passenger seat, and he was holding your car door open for you, letting you settle inside. Closing it up carefully, you reached for the lever under your seat, adjusting it back to how you liked it. He’d clearly been inside, the distance between the pedals and the seat of legs much longer than yours, and as you adjusted yourself, his arms folded against the edge of the door. Plugging in the key and switching on the engine. As it tumbled to life, you were able to roll the window down, finding it much cleaner and smoother in its movements than it had been.

He leaned in more, bent at the waist as he peered inside, and your fingers flexed on the wheel. “How’s it feel to be back in your car?”

“I feel independent again.” you turned to him, the car still rumbling underneath you. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, try your air-con.” He pointed to the nozzle, all wiped down and polished inside, and you did as told. Instead of sputtering and squeaking, they came on quietly, warm air from the engine turning to cold a second later, and it was a refreshing relief compared to the heat of the day as the sun dared to meet the horizon. “Better, right?”

“Incredible.” You mumbled, daring to mess with the other controls. Your wipers didn’t scrape at the glass, but moved quietly and conveniently, and the windscreen wash was even functional, a little burst of water covering the glass and being quickly wiped away. The gear stick wasn’t so sticky and the pedals were easy to press on once again, just the right amount of pressure underneath. There were no unusual noises coming from your engine. “Almost feels surreal.”

“Yeah, well, the only thing I didn’t do is put gas in the tank, so you’re gonna’ have to do that on your way back.”

“Back to where?” You turned to him, a cheeky look on your face and he smirked, matching you, and settling a little lower until your eyes were level.

“Stiles isn’t home. We can play video games in the main room, and I can do more of this-” He leaned in, pulling you in with a thumb and forefinger on your chin. The smirk he wore became a pout, his lips pressing to your own, and there was more confidence behind it now. All of your kisses so far had been shy and scared, testing the waters and adjusting to how it felt, but now, he was a little more sure of himself. His lips teased over yours, more enveloping than a simple kiss, and you were melting into him. Leaning closer toward the door of the car, your hand was coming to brace yourself against it, finding his arm on the edge of the rolled-down window.

“I like that plan.”

“I’ll meet you there, then.” He stood up, hands patting the edge of the car, before stepping backwards. With a wave before leaving, you undid the clutch, shifting it into first gear, and creeping forwards. Weaving through the boxes carefully, you were unfamiliar with the pathways, making your way towards the road as Noah walked alongside you guiding you to the main quarter. As soon as you knew your way, he was pausing, waving at you in your rearview mirrors and walking back towards his garage shed.

The drive was much easier, a car you felt like you could rely on as you went along, and you were barely along the road before the warning light on your dashboard was flicking on to warn you of a petrol depletion. It seemed that you had only just missed the rush-hour traffic, the roads starting to clear out a thin down, and you were almost disappointed by it. It meant that you didn’t get a chance to test out all your gears and brakes, with how seamless your journey went, but the last thing you wanted was for the car to overheat as you drove along, breaking again already.

Dangling from your mirror as you checked behind, you became aware of the little tree hanging there. A small piece of green felt, the pine smell filling the cabin as you drove becoming less of a mystery, and you lifted your hand to it. Running your fingers lightly over the surface, the cupboards underneath was sturdy, the tree spinning on its string when you let it go.

It was such a small gesture, and yet something so sweet about it as it hung there. Like a permanent reminder of him, something you’d see every time you drove, whether he was with you that day or not. Pulling up into the gas station, your car came to a stop, easy and simple without a lot of stuttering and jerking motions. It was like a miracle. Hopping out, the air-con that had been inside had grown comfortable, the warm air outside was suddenly prickling along your skin, like an itch that you couldn’t get to.

Rounding to the side and beginning to start the pump, your eyes moved over the station. There was only one other car, a mother with two children in car seats in the back, who both seemed to be hyperactive. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, giggling and smacking their hands against the window, and as her eyes met your own, she gave you a tried smile. You offered a little wave, the two small children inside the car reciprocating it too, and only a moment later, her husband was appearing from inside the shop. The bell overhead jingled as he exited, jogging slightly as he put his wallet back into his pocket.

They were pulling out as you finished, letting the nozzle drip clean for a second before you were putting it back on the hook. Locking up the car and making your way inside, there was a swift breeze of air conditioning over the doorway, the air inside chilled, and it was almost a little too cold. Rows full of treats and food for road trips and hungry children, or simply just bored snacking were laid out, multicoloured wrappers that were eye-catching.

Wandering through the aisles, you built an armful of the treats, unable to resist temptations as you bought a range of everything from pretzels and chips to candy and chocolate. The cashier behind the counter was chewing gum, a bored look on his face and you thought that he couldn't possibly be older than Junior year in high school as he rang it up. Packing it all into a bag and adding your tab from the lot outside, your card was pressed into the reader. Punching your PIN in to follow it, the out of date machine took a few extra seconds to go through, before your payment was confirmed.

A full tank and a bag of snacks, and you were back in the car, tucking the recent purchases down into the shadowed footwell and out of the way of the sun that was just beginning to brush the horizon. The clock on your dash told you the veering was rolling in, the night going to be uncomfortably hot and your car started back up with ease. The display flashed for a second as the engine restarted, and then, you were on the road.

Parking up beside Stiles’ building, windows rolled up and your snacks hidden in your backpack, you swung it onto your shoulder. Three flights of stairs, one long corridor, and two knocks on hardwood, and you waited. It was nostalgic to be here waiting for him, but the nerves you’d had months ago when waiting for a boy you barely knew were entirely washed away. Swinging it open, Noah filled the doorway, a smile so bright you wanted to cover your eyes on his face as he greeted you.

“Wow, what a surprise. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” You played along, and he let you inside, closing the door behind you as you toed off your shoes to leave beside the doorway.

“You know, I was. I have a super cute girl coming over soon, so you’re gonna’ have to make this quick.” He shrugged, his hands coming to find your waist and pull you a little closer as soon as you’d put your bag down on the couch. “Oh, wow, super cute girl alert. Hi.”

You’re secretly a total dork, huh?” Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, hand sliding down over his chest, and there was the sticky printing of a patch under your skin. Looking down to his shirt, it was navy blue now, a logo for a band you didn’t recognise beginning to fade on the front. “You changed.”

“I was sweaty and oily.” He took your hand, dragging you over to the couch, and pushing you to sit down with the other hand on your shoulder. He moved away, switching on the televisions and the console, two drinks of soda laid out before you, and he slumped down into the couch by your side. Your legs folded underneath yourself, taking the bag from the cushion it lay on, and dropping it into his lap. “A school bag. Thanks so much, just what I wanted, how’d you know?”

“Look inside.” Your eyes rolled involuntarily despite your grin, and he did as told, nimbly undoing the zip on it, and opening the bag up. Pulling out the folded brown pair, he indeed the top, peering inside at the contents.

“Oh, you brought snacks.” He stared in at them, before he was turning to you, a playfully accusatory look on his face as his eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Did you break that car already?”

“No.” You frowned, his finger coming up to poke and smooth at the wrinkled forming o your forehead. “Why do you think I did something?”

“Because all the previous times you’ve brought me food, it’s because you did something.” You scoffed, smacking at his arm and pretending it was an accident as you picked up a candy bar out of the bag, peeling the wrapper down.

“What the hell do you mean ‘all’?” You bit a chunk off of it, and he shook a bag of chips, distributing the flavour inside, before tearing it open. He crunched loudly as he placed one of the triangular chips into his mouth, twisting to face you some more.

“Okay, first time; You bought my coffee after ambushing me in my home and insulting me-”

“I did not insult you, you jumped to conclusions!” He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your words, and grinning cheekily.

“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know.” He placed another chip into his mouth, chewing happily, and lowering his hand from your mouth. “Second time, you brought pizza after ambushing me on my lunch break.” Your jaw dropped, but you remained quiet, a huff and a scowl on your lips at his words. “Third time, you brought lasagne after ambushing me at the coffee cart.”

“I don’t like the way that you portray me.”

“Fourth time, you forced me to go out to a restaurant, which you technically didn’t bring food to, but it was still overwhelming.” You sighed, taking a bite of your chocolate, and he wiggled his fingers a little as he rode his thumb to create a fifth finger. “Fifth time, you said you were planning to bring me food but didn’t have any after the first time you ambushed me at my garage.”

“Why do you keep saying ambushed?” You scowled, his hand coming down to rest on his knee, and you pushed it away. That only made him laugh, his hand coming back, leaning down to grip just above your ankle at your calf a little more firmly, and lifting your leg up.

“Because that’s exactly what you did.” He pulled you closer, your legs slinging across his lap as he dragged you across the couch, and he looked overly proud of himself for the shocked noise you elicited as he did so. “But, somewhere between the third and fourth times, I stopped being irritated by it, and your continued persistence and unwavering enthusiasm because kinda’ cute.”

His hand came up to brush through his hair, he broke the silence with the loud crunching of another potato chip. “Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Only if you promise to kiss me afterwards.”

“Deal.” You teased, shuffling a little closer to him, and he moved the bag of snacks from leaning on his stomach to sitting beside the both of you. “You know that first time I came to see you here, when I asked you about the study? You said some really mean things about yourself, like ‘criminal’ and ‘lowlife’, what did you mean?”

His lower lip dragged through his teeth, eyes leaving yours for a second, and the sweet and joyful moment between you both came crashing down into something much heavier. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not actually a criminal. People just started that because one night I was at a bar on the edge of town that seems a little sketchy, and a bar fight broke out, The cops showed up, and a guy got stabbed. I was actually out the back smoking at the time, so, I didn't even see all the excitement.”

“I’m sorry that the rumour started, though.” Your hand sank to his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin slowly.

“Stiles got really mad when he heard that rumour, and he cleared it up on his podcast, but the damage was done. Yet another reason why nobody wanted to be my friend.” You leaned in, kissing his forehead like he tended to do for you, and he tipped up, nose bumping yours in a silent ‘thank you’ for the comfort. “I just saw myself as a low-life. I let the rumours travel, I wasn’t even trying to make friends. I let my whole college experience slip away because I wanted to avoid confrontation or stress. You might have ambushed me, and forced me out of my comfort zone, but I think someday, I’m gonna’ look back on that and be grateful.”

You grinned, forehead resting on his as your hand slipped down, finding his shoulder instead, and his head tipped a little further upwards.

“Now, make good on that promise.”

“Oh, I plan to..” You whispered, lips brushing against his teasingly. You stayed where you were, though, letting him lean in a little closer until he almost had his lips pressed to yours, before you were shifting. He huffed, chasing you again, and you repeated the action, making him groan at the brief teasing. You chuckled, his hand flexing around your ankle, before his hand was sliding up to your knee, and you laughed a little more at the needy action.

“You’re being cruel.” He whined, and you were ready to give in, fingertips pressing into the flesh of his shoulder through the new shirt, before there was muffled shouting from the corridor. Loud, and angry, only getting clearer as the voice moved closer to the apartment, and it wasn’t until there was a set of keys in the lock and the door was opening.

You pulled back, sitting up a little further as Stiles came in, but the man didn’t seem to notice the two of you yet. He was yelling, a series of curse words to whoever was in the corridor behind him, and you recognised the equally angry voice of Derek, before the door was slamming shut. He paused, letting out a loud scream of anger at himself as he stared at the closed door, and you twisted on the couch, kneeling on it with your arms braced along the back to look at him.

Hanging up his jacket, Stiles turned to you both, jumping as he saw you there. The anger remained for only a second, before it was melting away into guilt, quickly followed by sadness. His shoulders slumped, scowl becoming a heavy frown as the wrinkles loosened into something sad, and he was frowning at you both.

“Sorry for all the yelling.” He started at you both for a second longer, his lower lip practically wobbling with his sadness as his hands came up to clutch together in front of himself.

“Is this a best friend or a brother moment? I can’t tell, what did Derek do?” You tried to keep your voice low. Shifting your bag to the floor with a sweep of your hand to make space for Stiles, and shuffling up so that he could sit in the middle of you both.

“If it’s a sex thing, it’s definitely a best friend thing.” Noah added, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous above all, but Stiles let out a weak and watery laugh.

“It’s really nice to have you both here.” He came over, staring at the snacks that were laid out, and your bag on the floor, shoulders only slumping further. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were doing.”

“We weren’t doing much. Yet.” Noah sighed, and you twisted to him, glaring for his joke, and he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep a serious face. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. You wanna’ watch movies, or something?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” He kicked off his shoes, leaving them abandoned by the coffee table, and he settled down between you both. Placing a cushion on your lap, you patted it, and he shot you a thankful look before moving to lay down. Resting his head against the cushion, his feet landed in his brother's lap. “Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.” You mumbled, nails scraping in feather-light patterns along his hairline.

As you stroked his hair gently, he began to relax a little further, and once he did, he began to spill. He was steady long enough to select a film, one of the Star Trek movies, surprisingly, and he sat silently, eating the snacks that you had purchased, for almost twenty minutes. After the food was finished, though, he broke.

The volume on the television was turned down and he was dominating the conversation, spilling everything that was weighing on his mind and heart. The problems came back to Derek, and the future between the two of them concerning the end of college. Derek had set plans that he’d always been planning on, and Stiles wanted to be more flexible, but neither was willing to budge. The conversation had never come up before, and now, with only a couple of short months left until the decision had to be made.

He admitted how nice it was to have you both here, the three of you sitting in companionable silence to follow his confessions about his relationship, and Noah stretched his arm out along the back of the couch towards you. It wasn’t the night that either of you had expected, and it wasn’t the most exciting, but it was enough. Your fingers wove with Noah’s sitting along the back of the cushion, and Stiles was mouthing along with the words on the screen as the movie came to an end.

It was cooler now, the sun having passed beyond the horizon, and you’d texted Lydia to let her know where you were as dusk was setting in. By the time that the credits were rolling, the man with his head in your lap had fallen asleep, snoozing softly with snores that were barely audible. Noah’s thumb was stroking over your hand, and he leaned over, empty wrappers crinkling as he moved, before the television was being switched off.

“So, that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“It’s okay. Stiles needed us.” You shrugged, fingers weaving through the sleeping boy’s hair again, and his face had finally gone back to relaxed as he rested. “I should get going, though. It’s getting late. We can just rearrange.”

You yawned, covering your mouth as you did. Using the edges of the pillow, you lifted Stiles' head, enough to slip out from underneath him and you stood up. Your head had gone numb a while back, the pins and needles having passed and you shook your leg to try and wake it back up. Your butt was aching, making you wobble with each step you took, and Noah grinned as he followed your actions.

Grabbing the stray wrappers and putting them back into the paper bag, he reached for one of the spare blankets, tucking it over his brother and making sure he was secure.

“Why don’t we have breakfast together tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that.” Your arms looped his waist, and his circled your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. “Where?”

“Here, if you stay over?” You studied him for a second, and his eyes widened, a pink colour coating his cheekbones. “Not with me. Not, y’know, I mean-” His blush only deepened, and you chuckled at him. “I just meant that you can stay in Stiles’ room. He won’t wake up until the morning now, anyway, and you’re tired. It’s dark and you shouldn't have to go home alone.”

You smiled, leaving him hanging in the suspense for a second longer, before putting him out of the suspenseful misery. “I think that would work just fine for me.”

“Good.” He smiled, lips brushing over your forehead, before he was straightening up. “Can you get the lights and the locks, I’ll go grab you something to wear.”

He stepped back, letting you do as told, as you moved around the room. Checking the door first, you flicked the catch on the door and double-checked it, before beginning to turn off all of the lamps. Stiles was snoring to himself and rolled over, facing the back of the cushions and clutching the blankets up to his chin. Pressing a kiss to the tips of two fingers, you smoothed it over your best friend’s forehead, mentally wishing him a quick recovery from his broken heart, before turning out the final light.

Noah was waiting in the hallway when you arrived, a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a jumper in his hands, with a ball of socks on top, and he presented them to you, a shy smile on his face.

“I don’t think I’ll need all of that. It’s the summer.”

“Well, you know, I didn’t want you to get cold in the night, or anything. Now you have options.” You took them from him, tucking them under your arm, his hands went into his pockets. You were both lingering, the darkness only illuminating you both from the light on in his room that was spilling out around him. “Okay, well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” Despite the words being spoken, neither of you moved, brown eyes with wide pupils sealed on you, searching you for some kind of reaction, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth opened, more words to come, before his jaw was snapping shut again, and his brows furrowed.

“Goodnight. Again, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” You smiled, humour in your voice again, and he took a minuscule step back from you before pausing again. Taking a step with him, your hand came up, the one not clutching clothes found his shoulder, and you pressed your lips against his in a simple peck. He let out a sound that made your heart flutter, leaning in to return the affection and he kissed you back slowly, before letting you sink to the ground and step away towards Stiles’ room. He watched you go, never moving until you were giving him a final smile, and closing Stiles’ bedroom door.

Resting your back against it once you were inside, you heard his bedroom door close too, and your heart was beating so fast you could feel it all the way to your fingertips. The day had been nothing like what you’d expected, a whirlwind adventure from start to finish, but you didn’t regret a thing.

[boom-fanfic-a-latta]

Hello I was the anon who asked stuff about a Miraculous/Psychonauts idea. I think early season 4 Raz gets sent in. The psychonauts don't believe in magic and think this is a crazed psychic causing mass hysteria. Who's mind should Raz explore first to find clues and help the person?

I mean I myself would suggest around early Season 1 for him getting sent in because it feels more realistic that they'd send an agent in earlier cause they probably sensed the disturbence in the collective unconcious or something IDK but S4 kinda works well as well for the Extra Angst To Deal With

And I gotta say: Chloe needs the help first, y'all. Because making an ACTUALLY ABUSED teenager unredeemable my BUTT--

...Y'see, Psychonauts is pretty good at showing how no one is unredeemable at heart, and how every person has their reasons. The villains are never demonized, and you learn to understand why exactly they are how they are. And most are able to get past what is holding them back through help and their own merits (and even the propaganda "It's A Small World" level guy has his reasons for NOT choosing to be better, and goes to show how even with the chance there people can still choose to live in their delusions and stubbornly refuse change, but it was beleivable and natural to the character). And everyone has realistic flaws that aren't overlooked but aren't overexaggerated (well, in Game 2 at least, but Game 1 was like 15 years ago and even then it was still at least decent in how it handled the issues people had). Which is basically in exact opposition to how Astruc writes his characters.

Sorry for the random Astruc salt, I just felt the need to mention this heavy contrast in how characterization is handled between these two fandoms.

But yeah, Chloe! I even have some ideas for what her level would be like! ...A lot of ideas, actually, so I'll throw in a "Read More" real quick

SO Raz starts in front of a hotel like the one Chloe lives in, but a lot taller and grander, but when he goes inside there's a part off to the side where the illusion is cracking away, revealing an old, dilapidated version beneath, like...Luigi's Mansion 3 vibes almost, is how I'd best describe it?

The different NPCs would all be plush animals filling different roles in the staff, like, a giraffe bellhop, for example, or an elephant maid, or a snake cook. They'd all be welcoming, but also very snooty and proper, making sure no one breaks any of the MANY rules the "Mistress" has put in place.

So Raz is trying to explore the hotel and reach the top where "Mistress" is, when in the first area that's broken down he runs into a little girl version of Chloe, "Little Chlo", holding her teddy bear, Mr. Cuddly. She's basically...what Chloe is truly like on the inside, but she's been pushed away into hiding by the uptight Mistress because she can't live up to the standards being set. This is her innocence and good side, who's been kept hidden and restrained for a long time.

Also of note, there are Doubts and Regrets that keep springing up in the level, but Censors keep appearing like security to get rid of them and throw them out as if they aren't allowed to be present. It's also possible to find Enablers, Bad Ideas, and a new enemy type I'll explain in some other post called an Unconcern (it represents apathy, nihilism, and most commonly, lack of regard for any consequences--it basically makes you Not Care), all being pampered by the staff and treated as important guests.

None of the enemies even try to attack, which is odd and unsettling, and they can't be hurt in return, they're pretty much all but NPCs in this state. The only ones who do act like normal enemies that Raz can fight are the Censor Security staff, and only once Little Chlo joins him (which is one of the first things that happen, but if you were to explore a bit more beforehand, the attacking Censors wouldn't even show up).

Each floor seems grander and grander than the next, and on each floor, Raz has to find the elevator button to the next floor (MORE LUIGI'S MANSION 3 VIIIIIIBES). They're hidden behind simple puzzles, but these puzzles tell things about Chloe you wouldn't know from just looking at her, kinda...seeing past the facade? Some buttons are instead of locked behind puzzles, guarded by Bad Moods. The buttons are always found in the dilapidated areas, which become more and more broken, hidden, and dangerous as you progress up through the hotel.

And the more Raz goes up, the more tattered the doll-like NPCs are, the more present the pampered bad habits, and the more absent the Doubts and Regrets.

Eventually, Raz and Little Chlo reach the top floor penthouse and enter a highly-exaggerated and overly-opulent version of Chloe's bedroom suite, and you come face-to-face with Mistress, now revealed to be another version of Chloe, wearing a replica of her mother's outfit. And Mistress is, at first glance...basically just what Thomas tries to pass off Chloe as. A purely evil complete monster, trying to replicate her abusive mother in every regard, spitting insults at you with every sentence that leaves her mouth.

This is the absolute exaggeration of what Chloe is TRYING to be--someone her mom would be proud of. And she isn't happy to see Little Chlo at all.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! I THOUGHT I TOLD THEM ALL TO LOCK YOU AWAY WHERE YOU'D NEVER ESCAPE!"

Little Chlo holds Mr. Cuddly close to her chest. "I...I got out, though..."

"Well, TOO BAD! You're going to go RIGHT BACK where you came from! And you aren't going to get out and mess this up for us EVER AGAIN! You're just ridiculous, UTTERLY ridiculous!"

"But y-you're...being...really mean..."

"What I'm BEING is EXCEPTIONAL! Which you, obviously, are not!"

This remark seems to sting Little Chlo, who looks away and seems to be about to start crying. Raz then cuts in.

"Stop it! She's a part of Chloe, just like you seem to be, so why are you being so mean to her?"

Mistress scoffs. "As if SHE could ever measure up! SHE could NEVER be what we needed!" She flips her ponytail over her shoulder and lowers her sunglasses to give Raz a scrutinizing glance. "...And just what are YOU supposed to be, hm? Some kind of a Circus Freak? How ridiculous!"

Raz scowls. "Hey, my family works in the circus!"

"No wonder you look like a clown, then."

"...Alright, I've had enough of this. 'Mistress', what are you even trying to prove by being such a brat?!"

"Didn't you hear me? I'm trying to show how EXCEPTIONAL I am!"

"Well, this isn't exceptional, it's just cruel! No one's going to think you're exceptional if all you do is put people down--if anything, it'll make them think the opposite!"

"THAT'S JUST WHAT YOU THINK!!!" As she growls this, Mistress throws out her hands, blowing the top off of the penthouse. Suddenly, all three are standing on the roof, the pool underneath them far increased in scale from normal, and glass walkways cross over it in a loose grid pattern.

Mistress twirls around, tossing her hat aside as she transforms into the level's boss, "Magnifique Bourgeois". I don't have a set design yet but I imagine she kinda looks like a fusion of a mannequin, Bonita Soleil from Gloria's Theatre in the first Psychonauts, and the Akuma Style Queen. And Chloe herself, of course.

Also, the hat hits Raz in the face when she throws it. Because of COMEDY!

So the boss fight, you have to cross over the catwalks on the pool while dodging periodic blasts of light from, like, a spotlight. If one hits you, you freeze in place for a couple seconds and are open to attacks. The spotlights are manned by Enablers, and can also heal and protect Magnifique, so you need to take them out first. You have to climb up to the top of these super-tall lifeguard chairs and defeat the Enablers so that you can actually do lasting damage to the boss.

Once those are taken care of, there are like 3 or so, you can actually fight Magnifique. Her attacks are all very flashy and attention-grabbing (this level, specifically this battle, would not be for those who are sensitive to flashing lights), featuring colored laser lights and lots of sparkly explosions. She wants to be EXCEPTIONAL, dangit! She wants to stand out as the very best!

With each spotlight you deactivate, it falls down to the glass catwalks and turns into a mirror. Using Telekinesis, you have to aim the mirror so that when she uses a big flashy laser attack, it bounces back at her, though a successful hit causes her to break the mirror (you don't lose a mirror if you fail to deflect it and it's fairly forgiving in where it needs to be).

Once three attacks are successfully deflected, Magnifique goes berserk and starts breaking parts of the walkways. Once again, TK is the answer, as she hurls the broken glass at you and you have to throw chunks of it back at her. After enough hits, she finally relents, collapsing and turning back into Mistress.

Everything is in shambles on the roof as Mistress struggles to her feet, looking bedraggled and far worse for wear. She's crying, muttering under her breath that "I have to be exceptional enough" and "I can't have lost", looking like she's about to have a breakdown.

Suddenly, Little Chlo comes running up to her, offering Mr. Cuddly. Mistress looks at the child in shock, as if unable to understand these actions.

"W...why are you...but..."

Little Chlo simply gives her older, meaner self a hug.

"...You do know mom is never gonna love us, don't you?"

"..."

And Mistress, finally coming to terms with this fact, that this behavior she's been copying isn't going to help get her the approval she's been wishing for...hugs Little Chlo back.

And Raz looks on, smiling, as a girl decides to no longer follow in the footsteps of a mother who she realizes she doesn't need to please.

…

OKAY I WASN'T INTENDING FOR THIS TO SNOWBALL INTO AN ENTIRE LEVEL SYNOPSIS AND BOSS FIGHT CONCEPT BUT I REALLY LIKE HOW THIS TURNED OUT ESPECIALLY THE FINAL RECONCILIATION SO I'M NOT COMPLAINING

[drxwsyni]

The Only One︱Yandere Dabi x f!Reader

Synopsis: Friends with benefits aren’t supposed to be exclusive, but Dabi thinks otherwise. Too bad he waited until you fucked up to tell you that.

a/n: So uhhh y’all can thank @hawks-senseis for the inspo on this oneshot. Here’s where the idea came from if you want more context.

Hero Camp Bingo prompt: Hair pulling

@bnhabookclub weekly nsfw prompt: “Touch yourself.”

Bingo Masterlist 

Warnings: Heavy dubcon/noncon, swearing, coercion, violence, injury, forced voyeurism, oral (giving), threats of murder, unprotected sex, degradation, hair pulling, light choking, spanking, gen. yan. themes, ambiguous ending (this one’s a doozy, PLEASE do not read this if the warnings make you uncomfortable)

6.5k words

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It felt good to get away from him―a certain pride to be had in the act of unspoken disobedience.

You should feel proud, he had it coming after all. Dabi might be a good mentor for passing souls heading down the path of corruption, like yourself, and he was an even better fuck―but that doesn’t mean he reserves the right to treat you like second-hand garbage.

No amount of wisdom from a seasoned villain or mind blowing sex could excuse his actions.

Dabi had a tendency to be lazy during all the worst moments. Avoiding the necessary like it was the plague, offering vague non-committal responses―sometimes not even that. He didn’t like answers that could make him liable, and so he never gave them to you.

When it came to the terms of your more intimate relationship, he didn’t care to set any ground rules. On many occasions you tried to pry an opinion out of him, but the most you got were heated glares and scoldings that didn’t assist you in understanding his preferences. Dabi never expressed concern over the level of exclusiveness the two of you were on.

So, you assumed he didn’t care.

Which made it all the more easy to disregard him when you couldn’t stand the thought of being around the flame user. If he wanted to be moody and take his frustrations out on you, that was up to him. But he shouldn’t expect you to come loyally crawling back when you needed to release some pent up energy.

Dabi would probably expect it though. Too bad for him.

You were still on a high, endorphins coursing steadily through your system. Part of you was bothered that even after you’d disregarded Dabi’s questionable feelings over you seeking others to fulfill your needs, you still found yourself thinking of him after the deed was done. Because as you lay in bed, a fellow villain in the works just about completely passed out next to you, your mind still drifted to Dabi.

You cursed yourself for the internal betrayal.

It only made you more pissed at the arsonist. Here you were, trying to enjoy yourself completely free of his mindless torment, and yet you still thought of him. Did he feel the same levels of distress as you did over such a menial thing?

Honestly, you doubted it. Dabi’s carefree attitude probably wouldn’t allow him a second thought towards your comfort. But maybe, under that tough exterior was a man who might actually give a damn about whatever the two of you have going on.

Unfortunately, his recent behaviour made you unable to sympathize. He didn’t deserve your energy that was put into thoughtful concerns and ‘what ifs’ over unspoken realities. What he did deserve was something to make him feel as uneasy as you did. It was worth a shot―to poke the bear.

Determinedly, you swiped your phone from the nightstand next to you, the warm glow of the lamp lightly illuminating your side of the bed. It was late, but you knew all too well about Dabi’s unhealthy sleeping habits, along with the other self-destructive tendencies you had to put up with many times before.

With a few taps on the smooth touchscreen, his contact was pulled up, and subsequently the ongoing conversation.

You were an independent woman, and he needed to know that. It wouldn’t surprise you if Dabi thought he had you wrapped around his finger. So, in this state of post-sex bliss, it only seemed right to let him know just what he was missing.

Well...sort of.

It was probably safer to keep the details of your night vague, for the sake of both yourself and the now slumbering individual next to you. A non-explicit, but still concrete in meaning message.

< How do you feel about the thought of me with someone else?

…

You figured he’d be up at this hour. And especially given the state of your relationship, you expected him to respond immediately. He might be a moody little bitch but he was almost always down to hook up.

But there was nothing.

Semi-defeated, you threw your head back against the flat pillow. Fucking typical.

Your phone buzzed in the light grip your hand held on it.

> i’d probably fuck you infront of them and then kill them.

Just slightly, your eyes widened at the message, an unexpected feeling of anxiety pitting in your stomach.

...Oh.

Dabi could be crude...so now was just him doing what he does best, right? Well, if he suddenly had such a strong opinion, then why shouldn’t you give him a taste of his own medicine?

Act like him―like you don’t care. That’ll rile him up.

< Yeah, okay…

You waited for a response in anticipation. It was petty, but you wanted so badly to make him hurt the way you did. Dabi never gave a shit about you enough to offer any form of permanency, or commitment to preserving your feelings. Realistically, you shouldn’t be so torn up over a guy who is that careless.

But as you lay in bed, eyes trained on the artificially glowing screen, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest from growing.

The text showed, ‘read 1:40 AM.’

And so, you could only resign yourself to fate.

_____

Dabi couldn’t technically blame you for your behaviour―but he was going to regardless.

While he never came out and said he was bothered by your spur of the moment, mixed-message text, you could tell that you’d struck a nerve. And now you were starting to regret it, for the most part.

Dabi didn’t get angry in the same ways a lot of people did. He didn’t curse anyone out, or make a scene out of putting someone in their place. No―he was silent with it.

From the time he’d spent accompanying you on missions, you slowly picked up on his habit for chatter amidst the fighting. Relentlessly taunting the enemy before burning them to a crisp, with a stretched grin on his face the whole time. Dabi knew his strengths usually tended to outmatch his opponents, so he grew cocky.

You hated him for it, but now you wished those teasing remarks he’d throw around the battlefield were still a thing of the present.

Dabi didn’t need to use words to show just how much your surprise text ended up irking him. The unbridled violence, burning any threat in sight that got close to either of you without so much as a hint of hesitation to think about his actions told you all that you needed to know.

He didn’t say anything outside of the few worded offers of instructions during your brief outings. And even then, Dabi was uncharacteristically cold. Not that he didn’t always have a certain air of harsh sternness, but throughout it persisted a distinct playfulness. Something that suggested his arsonistic behaviour was amusing to a degree.

And now it boiled down to destroying anything and everything without batting an eye, with a look that could kill cemented into his features the whole time.

It was a mistake.

With each passing second spent in the heavy silence that was his presence, your resolve to stay proud of making him feel for you was crumbling into ash. The tension remained palpable, and some deep fury inside of him was practically buzzing off of his being.

So when he called you two weeks after the incident, you figured he was ready to tell you to fuck on out of his life. It would be better than the seething rage he quite clearly felt whenever you were near him. An act of mercy, so to speak. You still had potential as an upcoming villain, so perhaps he didn’t want to see all his hard work go to waste.

But then he invited you over.

Dabi almost had to repeat himself as you failed to comprehend his words for a moment. He wanted to apologize. In person, no less. To make up for his shitty behaviour, a result of something that wasn’t even your fault.

Surely you could spare him the time of day, or rather night, to hear the poor guy out?

You agreed.

But your gut feeling told you to run in the opposite direction and never stop.

Turns out, Dabi really did have you wrapped around his finger. Because despite that sinking feeling that just got worse and worse with every step in the direction of his place, you kept going. The voice in the back of your head screaming at you, telling you that something was wrong. That it’s Dabi you’re talking about, and he’d never just admit to being at fault―it was never offered the spotlight in your consciousness.

Because even though the two of you weren’t exclusive, what happened two weeks ago was the first time you were ever with another person like that. Dabi was your first, he taught you everything you wanted to know. But even then, as someone who held such an important place in your life, he couldn’t find it in himself to offer you anything more than those passing nights satiating each other’s carnal desires.

That’s why you moved forward. Hoping that this would be the turning point. That you’d finally be free from his vague answers that left you more unsatisfied than before you even asked them. You didn’t need his permission to be with other people, but you had a strange sense of loyalty to him for showing you the ropes.

What you wanted now was for him to admit that whatever was going on between you, it wasn’t anything more than friends with benefits. He was your mentor, and occasionally you’d fuck on the side. But that was it. Whatever this ‘loyalty’ was, it wasn’t enough to warrant his treatment towards you.

You needed to hear him admit that what he said was wrong, and that like you suspected, he was just too lazy to give you a concrete answer over whether or not he cared about your life outside of him.

In a last ditch effort to calm the nerves that were intrusively firing off in opposition against what you were about to do, you took a deep breath before knocking on his door.

Dabi eventually greeted you, leaning against its frame with eyes trailing up and down your form. “Glad you came.”

He was wearing only a pair of black sweatpants, putting the scars adorning his arms and chest on full display. The metal staples glinted in the cold lighting emitting behind him, and you did your best not to stare at the entrancing sight.

Just get what you came here for. An apology. An explanation. The truth.

You offered a small side smile, looking past him into the dimly lit expanse of his home. “I did. Can we get this over with please?”

He gave pause for a moment, before pushing off the door frame, stepping to the side and gesturing with his hand for you to enter.

Unspoken, you stepped through the threshold, trying to maintain a distance between your bodies as you slipped past him. Now inside, you noted how much warmer it was than the frigid nighttime air. Dabi always ran a little hotter than most people―naturally. Only now you could really appreciate it for what it was worth, wondering if he even needed heating in the colder months of the year.

Your body tensed at the lowness of his voice behind you, catching you off guard. “Before I say anything...there’s something I wanna show you, if that’s alright.”

You turned to face the flame user, quirking a brow at his characteristically vague offer. “I guess that depends, what is it?”

Like the time you spent on the way here, a distant feeling of dread settled in the back of your mind. A somewhat playful smirk crept across Dabi’s face, lightly tugging at the staples keeping his skin together. “Well, if I told you then it would ruin the surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

...

You didn’t trust him.

But, that didn’t mean your emotional state could afford to deny him. You wanted to get what you came here for and then get the hell out. If that meant some momentary setback, then so be it.

You gave the scarred man an inquisitive scowl, before lightly shrugging your shoulders in compliance.

That’s all the confirmation Dabi needed, as he began stalking to the back of the living space without another word. And if his back wasn’t turned as you trailed behind him, you’d be able to see the small grin just barely ghosting his lips.

The door to his bedroom creaked open as he pushed against it, only a dim light from a lamp spewing out. Dabi stepped aside, “After you.”

Once again, you regarded him with a sceptical look. It wasn’t the first time he’d acted in such a way, the man being generally shrouded in mystery. Yet, as he waited patiently for you to see whatever he had prepared, those alarms in the back of your head felt deafening.

With a deep sigh, you carefully stepped into the bedroom. And as soon as you were past that threshold, you stopped dead in your tracks.

It was him. Tied to a chair, gagged and sporting a painful looking black eye―the man from two weeks ago. You almost forgot his face, like yourself a budding villain only seen in passing. But you were positive it was him, shaking, scared, and wide-eyed for the flame user behind you.

Somehow, Dabi managed to find the now unfortunate soul you slept with instead of him, and as the door to the bedroom shut, a click of a lock falling into place under a key, the weight of the situation crashed down upon.

Your quirk isn’t offensive, nor defensive. It’s support class, and entirely useless now.

With a turn of your head, you saw Dabi pocketing a small key, a devilish smirk plastered across his face. As for you, such emotions never came.

“What the hell is this? Why is he here?”

Without acknowledging your distressed questioning, Dabi walked past you and towards the man now struggling against the bindings. “You wouldn’t believe the mouth on this guy, doll.” A little too aggressively, Dabi rested his hands atop the man’s shoulders, instantly stilling him. “Told me all about the fun the two of you had.”

Your eyes rested on the coldness of his, that gaze lingering with a dangerous amusement.

“Dabi...what’s this about?”

In truth, your intuition had already led you to the likely conclusion of this ‘surprise’ of his. But the cruelty of it all, the unexpectedness, had you praying it would play out in any other way than you were predicting.

Dabi’s stare drifted, taking in your still unmoving form, regarding you up and down before those cerulean eyes landed on yours again.

It was almost a sneer, laughing slightly at your disbelief. “You really don’t know how badly you fucked up, do you?”

And just like that, you felt the blood drain from your face. It was never your place to decide what he was and wasn’t comfortable with, even if it went against your own boundaries. With the meaning of his words dawning on you, it was clear that his long held silence in the matter should’ve been enough to sway you against seeking others.

All that was left to do was reason with him, and hope you and the man tied down would make it out of this alive.

With a shaky breath, you forced the words out of your system. “We’re not exclusive. This is taking things way too far, and he doesn’t deserve to be roped into your shit.”

Dabi lightly drummed a finger against the man’s shoulder, head tilting at your claims. “Tell me, have I ever once said you could go around fucking other guys?”

You swallowed nervously, shifting uneasily under his focused glare. “...Well no, but―”

“Then what the fuck were you doing whoring yourself out to him, huh?”

The room was completely silent, save for the heavy breathing of the terrified man, and the sound of your hammering heart reverberating in your skull. You flinched at his words. It hurt, when Dabi knew very well that he was the only man you’d been with, aside from this one time fling, an issue that was being blown way out of proportion.

He continued before you could give an explanation, voice low, eyes narrowed and piercing. “I should just kill him right here and now for touching you. Bet the fucker would deserve it anyways.”

Honestly, you didn’t think the feeling of your heart dropping in your chest could feel any more intense. But it did, and the tears welling and threatening to spill down your cheeks could attest to it.

“...You don’t mean that.”

Dabi’s lips pulled into a sinister smile, putting tension on the staples adorning his face. You weren’t sure if it was the look he gave you, or the words that followed which frightened you more.

“Oh, you know that I do, sweets. But...since I’m so forgiving, I thought I’d let you earn his freedom instead.”

Not a sound was to be heard as you processed his words. An offer so vague, but dreadfully explicit at the same time.

Your voice was quiet, barely audible. “How?”

Somehow, that horrid grin grew wider. “You care about him, right? So...you should be willing to do whatever it takes to keep him alive.”

At this point your nails were digging painfully into the skin of your palms, being the only thing grounding your racing thoughts. Reluctantly, you responded. “What do you want from me?”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he waited to reply for dramatic effect alone. He should know what he wants, otherwise nothing would be playing out so smoothly for him.

“Strip.”

Your gaze flitted to the still restrained man, looking just as appalled as you. Dabi looked everything but the sort though, still immensely enjoying the reactions you so honestly gave.

“I―I’m not doing that in front of the both of you.”

At your words, Dabi simply shrugged, an expression of casualness crossing his features. “Suit yourself.”

And just like that, his hand gripped the back of the man’s neck, and in the dim lighting of the room you could see a blue luminance come from his palm. There was an agonizing shriek, but it was muffled by the cloth gag still nestled firmly in the guy’s mouth.

Your body acted before you could think through the actions. “WAIT!”

Some of the distance between the three of you had been closed, you now at the foot of the bed where they were both facing. Dabi ceased his actions, seeming greatly pleased with your frantic and pleading state.

There was a pause, and his hand just barely pulled back.

“You know what to do.”

With your lower lip slightly quivering, you stayed motionless, inwardly praying he’d change his mind. But that change never came, and instead it was the familiar flame in the palm of his hand, mere centimeters away from skin.

“Alright! Alright…” With raised hands, you watched as Dabi went back to gripping the man’s shoulder. And so, with shaky movements, you fumbled with the fabric of your clothing. Your shirt was pulled up across your body, maybe even a little hurriedly.

Of course, Dabi would have none of your rushed intentions. “Ah-ahh. Nice and slow now, princess. Put on a good show for us.”

Not before regarding him with a hate filled glare, regrettably, you did as he said. Still facing them, you slowly peeled the rest of your clothing off of your body, article by article. The pile of discarded garments eventually laid abandoned at your feet, and in a feeble attempt to preserve your remaining dignity, you shielded your body with your hands as much as possible.

Dabi’s command came abruptly. Short and to the point. Those lack of words told you all you needed to know of the silent and seething anger inside of him.

“Get on the bed.”

Once again, you could only do as he harshly instructed, words spilling from his mouth with no hesitation. The mattress sunk under your weight, the wrinkled comforter pressing into your legs as you kneeled atop the blankets.

There was an amused snicker, “There we go. Now, touch yourself.”

You hated it. You hated Dabi. You hated yourself for not reading his silence properly.

But you spread your legs on the bed regardless, jaw clenched and heart racing.

Like a predator taking in the sight of its prey, Dabi’s eyes followed your hand as it moved south, one still being used to cover your breasts. You hesitated, and he was quick to comment. “Go on, a slut like yourself shouldn’t give a damn who’s watching, right?”

That’s not true. He doesn’t mean it.

Dabi knows he was your first, and the poor man roped into all of this was the only other person you’d been with. But Dabi was cruel, and his words were meant only to sting, whether or not they held true meaning.

There was no room to argue his point, so instead you screwed your eyes shut, and let your fingers slide down your body. To ease your own discomfort in the slightest, you gathered up some of your own arousal, running the pads of your fingers across your slit. You surprised yourself to even find a build up of wetness, the feeling only messing with your head.

You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t.

You began rubbing tight circles into your clit, desperately trying to move things along. Honestly, you had zero clue how far Dabi was going to take things tonight. But wherever it was going, you wanted to reach the end as fast as you could.

Unconsciously, your hips moved in tandem with the pace of your fingers. A familiar heat began to build, and you could feel the coil in your abdomen start to tighten. You knew their eyes were on you, Dabi’s piercing stare not being one you wanted to meet.

But the thought of it, knowing he was studying your every move with intent, had you clenching around nothing. It was never lost on you how he treated you in normal circumstances―uncharacteristically observant to the way you reacted under his touch. Sometimes you thought he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. And so your mind wandered to those moments where he’d have you melting into a pool of bliss, hoping to ease your nerves from the less than private situation you were being subjected to. You let out an involuntary whimper, your fingers picking up the pace.

You were so close, the urgency of wanting to finish quickly having you coming undone faster than normal. Desperately, you ground yourself into your own hand, focusing on simply feeling.

...

“Stop.”

Your eyes shot open, confused and now painfully aware again of what was going on. There was nothing to say, so you simply regarded Dabi in anguish. He wasn’t going to make things easy on you.

He moved out from behind the man and towards you as he spoke, slowly sauntering with menacing steps. “Aw, don’t give me that look, sweets.” Dabi stopped at the foot of the bed, peering down at you with that cold stare.

“You’ve gotta make up for what you’ve done, remember?”

_____

You could feel the drool seeping out of your mouth, running down your chin and pooling onto the bed sheets beneath your head. Dabi’s grip was tight, a hand firmly latched onto your hair. Pulling you back and forth in quick motions, groaning as you sucked his cock at a steady rhythm.

He’d long abandoned patience, once letting you go at your own pace, now taking control in disappointment for your lack of motivation. Almost considerately, his thumb swiped a fallen tear wetting your cheek. It didn’t do much aside from smearing the build-up of moisture, only showing you that he didn’t really care.

Hoping to move things along, you ran your tongue along the underside of his length, pressing into a prominent vein before feeling the cold metal of a Jacob’s Ladder. Hollowing out your cheeks, you attempted to bob your head to take back some independence. Dabi hissed in response to your ministrations, having disregarded the man behind him for a short while.

The flame user let out a breathy huff above you, “Fuck...just like that.”

You flicked your tongue around the head of his cock, dragging it against the weeping slit as he kept you in one place for a moment. But not a second later he was forcing himself back down your throat, earning a pained whimper from you as you remained kneeled over, propped up by your elbows and trying to grip his thighs for some semblance of support.

The vibrations made Dabi hiss, unrelenting in his ways as he fucked your mouth. “Look at you, fuckin’ drooling all over yourself―dirty little bitch.”

The way he pressed so deep into you, hitting the back of your throat with each harsh thrust had you gagging around his length. That only seemed to spur him on, the grip on your hair tightening and his movements becoming more erratic. You could feel yourself growing lightheaded, unable to breath as you desperately tried to keep up with his brutal pace.

Dabi had gotten talkative again―always did when he was close to cumming. “Ah, f-fuck. So goddamn good, babydoll. Takin’ me s-so well.”

A hand pushed against his thigh, trying to pull yourself from him. He laughed at your feeble attempts. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it. N-not letting you off that easy…”

Black spots started to form in your vision, it taking everything you had not to anger the man relentlessly face-fucking you. Pained, you whimpered around his cock, and that must’ve been the final nail in his coffin.

Dabi let out a strangled groan, and you could feel the hot ropes of cum spilling down the back of your throat. Finally, he pulled you from his length, and you sputtered out in a fit of choking the second you could take a breath of air.

Exhaustedly, your body sank into the bed, a sedating lightheadedness clouding your mind as oxygen returned to your system. A certain muffledness enveloped your senses, being so drained from his actions. Your eyes were closed, so you didn’t see where he moved next.

Not until the bed dipped behind you, and a hand weaved its way into your hair once again did you realize what he was doing, and what he had planned next.

Dabi yanked your head towards, and you could feel his exposed and partly scarred torso pressing into your back as he leant down to speak into your ear. “I wasn’t fucking kidding when I said I’d fuck you in front of him.” He was laughing through the statement, clearly having much more fun with the situation than you were.

Yet, as much as you told yourself that you hated Dabi for what he was doing, as much as you repeated in your mind how you’d never come back to him again―his words still got to you. Unfaltering and honest, not a threat―but a promise. Knowing how good he always made you feel only had your headspace heading down a foggy path of conflicted acceptance.

Your head fell back onto the bed as he released his hold on your hair, opting to grip your hips with calloused hands instead. You let out a whine as a finger dipped between your folds, coming back to run across your slit.

“Fuck, dollface. Like a goddamn faucet back here―you enjoy bein’ watched like this?” Dabi punctuated his question with a harsh smack to your ass, the skin stinging under the impact and you lurching forward in surprise.

A high pitched yelp escaped your lips. “N-no! I―”

Another smack, this time on the opposite cheek. The sharp pain radiated through your backside, and you could’ve sworn the contact of his hand on your skin felt hotter than it should be.

Typical.

“Try again, cause this dripping pussy says otherwise.”

You balled up loose parts of the comforter in your fists, limbs shaking from his actions. “I’m n-not―”

It was much harder this time, his hand coming down causing a more strained wail to involuntary leave your body.

Dabi leaned down once again, “I’m not gonna move on ‘til you admit you wanna get fucked in front of this asshole.”

Another hit.

“Say it.”

You stayed silent.

Another hit.

“Beg for me to fuck you.”

Another hit.

You sobbed into the bedsheets, chest heaving with the exertion that the searing pain was causing you. Somewhere distant, you felt certain inhibitions and reservations leave your mind, bogged down by the suffocating presence of the man behind you. Your voice came out ragged, choked and cracking. “P-please, Dabi…”

His rugged palm collided with the reddened flesh on your ass again, no doubt to be sporting bruises by the morning. “Speak up, slut.”

A shaky breath was exhaled from your system. “Please, I―I want you to fuck me...”

There was a bout of silence, and you feared that the scorching pain would resume.

But it didn’t.

Dabi chuckled lowly. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

You gave a deep sigh of relief at his words. It baffled you how he could switch back and forth like that. One moment savagely aggressive, the next nonchalant and disregarding your pains and aches.

He didn’t disregard certain needs of yours however. Or his, for that matter.

A crease formed between your brows at the sensation of the tip of his cock slipping down and up your aching heat. A mewl left your parted lips when he pressed into your abandoned and needy clit. Unconsciously, you moved yourself against his length, coating it in your slick while trying to gain some much needed friction.

In the moment of countless intense sensations coming together all at once, it felt like you and Dabi were the only two people in the room.

You could feel the velvety tip pushing past your entrance, sliding in with ease with how much you were already dripping from being previously denied release. Dabi went surprisingly slow, letting you feel each and every inch of his length as it rubbed perfectly against your walls. The metal piercings that ran up the underside of his cock were a stark contrast to everything else you were feeling, but it was mouth-wateringly satisfying regardless.

Dabi let out a groan as he bottomed out, now not wasting a moment before he began thrusting in and out of your sopping core. The grip on your waist only grew tighter with each passing second. That, and as he was digging his blunt nails into the plush skin, the palms of his hands were also heating up. But as Dabi continued to relentlessly bury himself inside of you at a near brutal pace, the temperature never made it past something that would leave a mark. It stung, but the low burning was distant when the rest of his presence was so much more intense.

The always lingering smell of smoke and cigarettes invaded your senses, the haze over your mind growing thicker. It was sedating, emotionally subduing, coaxing you to drown in the entrancing state until all that mattered was Dabi.

You could feel your limbs growing weaker, legs shaking as a warmth developed inside of you. Your walls clamped down around his length, growing more and more sensitive with each thrust. Your orgasm was creeping up on you fast with the way his cock kept brushing up against that sensitive and spongy bundle of nerves.

Dabi groaned at the way you were sucking him in, catching on to how close you were to release. It only egged him on further, a hand detaching from your hip to push the side of your face into the mattress. “Fuckin’ do it, slut. Cum on my cock.” With a sharp thrust, the back of his thighs colliding with yours with each movement, you felt yourself beginning to come apart underneath him.

“Why don’t you show the fucker who makes you feel this good, huh?”

There was a moment of white hot bliss, and then the waves of your orgasm were crashing down upon you, your walls clenching around Dabi’s cock. You let out a silent scream, drool seeping into the fabric your head was being shoved into. He continued with his rough and skillfully well aimed thrusts as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, good fucking girl…”

Your release sapped almost all of your remaining energy, but not everything. Dabi continued to ravage your worn out body. You whimpered at the overstimulation he was inflicting.

“I-I can’t, Dabi. It’s too...t-too much…”

He huffed in response, his thrusts growing erratic and faster. “Aw, you can’t handle it? Well...maybe you should’ve thought about that before pissing me off.”

In a pitiful attempt to relieve yourself from his ministrations, you tiredly pulled away from him, arms shaking and threatening to give out.

“The fuck do you thing you’re going, doll?”

Dabi dragged you back, snapping his hips against you hard. His back pressed into yours, and you shrieked when his teeth sunk into the skin of your shoulder blade. Not breaking it, but drawing dangerously close. His dick twitched inside of you at the strangled noises escaping your mouth, rutting into you without pause.

You could tell he was getting close, breathing heavy against your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your body. An arm snaked around your waist, you mewling as two fingers began rubbing tight circles against your clit.

Dabi continued leaving marks along your back, one arm bracing him beside your head while the other was tasked with rolling and pinching your sensitive nub in between his fingers.

That familiar heat began pooling once again, you not even being able to think straight as Dabi practically fucked you stupid.

You heard the flame user laugh slightly at your state. He couldn’t see your face with the way you were positioned, but if he could, he’d be met with your eyes glossed over, nearly rolling back in your skull with how well he was working you over.

The hand not circling your puffy clit wrapped around your throat. In one swift motion, Dabi pulled both of you up, your back leant against his, eyes shutting tightly closed as your head rested against his shoulder. He kept up the fast pace, his length pressing even deeper and in new places than it was before.

His breath hit the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine as the raspiness of Dabi’s voice permeated through the blissed out trance you were in. “Tell me, could he make you feel as good as I do?”

…

The question didn’t quite resonate with you.

You didn’t know who ‘he’ was.

But you were sure that nobody could please you like Dabi did.

“N-no…”

The pace of his fingers quickened, you barely able to stay upright as you gripped the wrist of the hand latched around your neck.

“That’s right, I’m all you’ll ever need.”

Dabi wasn’t asking for your agreement. It was a statement. As far as he was concerned, Dabi was the only one who could satisfy you. Nobody else could do what he did to you. Not now, not ever.

With a particularly sharp and well angled thrust, you came on his cock for the second time. A strew of moans spilled from your wetted lips, full body shudders wracking your system.

And like that, Dabi’s hips sputtered, his cum spilling out inside of you and painting your walls white. His fingers constricted around your throat harder for a few seconds, before releasing his hold completely.

You haphazardly slumped back down into the mattress, chest heaving in exhaustion. You barely registered the feeling of Dabi’s cock slipping from your abused cunt, cum dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the sheets.

...But you did register the force of your body being flipped over so that you were laying on your back.

Fighting against the heavy weight of your eyelids, you peered up at Dabi’s towering form. He was settled between your legs, spiked hair sticking to his forehead and eyes unmoving from yours. A look both satisfied, but aching for more.

“Don’t get all tired on me now. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

_____

Warm light spilled through the space of the room, the defined rays in the dark picking up particles slowly drifting about in the air. The curtains stayed closed, save for that small sliver letting such contrasting luminance in. It landed upon the blankets, your eyes following the ripples in the fabric while you came to.

It was comfortable, the heat of the sun, and of the room, wrapping around your mind and body. A sereneness to it all, unmoving and unworrying.

Until you shifted, and a dull aching throb brought you to your senses.

A glance to the foot of the bed. Eyes searching for evidence. The chair from the night before was nestled back into the corner of the bedroom, tucked neatly under a desk. You thought you were alone.

And as you rolled over onto your other side, the collision with another body proved otherwise. Still a little slow from the grip of sleep, and of the pains settling in your body, your head tilted up to observe the other occupant of the bed.

“Mornin’, doll.”

Blue eyes met yours. A small smirk adorning his face, yours remaining blank.

“...Where is he?”

A sigh escaped his lungs, the air hitting your skin. Dabi brought a hand up to your face, slowly, fingers ghosting your cheek. He paused, cupping your face lightly, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“I let him go.”

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. If you weren’t mere centimeters apart from him, you’d miss the short confession completely.

Dabi’s gaze lingered, locked with yours. You flitted between both irises, searching. Answers unspoken, a truth untold. Something that he wasn’t telling you.

A static doubt flickered in the back of your mind. There was a challenge to be had in the way he regarded you. His words playing out in your own conscience.

Do you really believe that?

Breaking the stare, but not the tension that only you could feel, he pulled your body into his. Your head laid atop his chest, the smell of his cologne permeating, and unmistakably Dabi.

You felt the reverberations of his voice as he spoke, said with a breathy exhale. “Go back to sleep, ‘still early…”

A hand remained carding through your hair, motions slow and soothing. The other lightly squeezed your exposed hip, a gesture reassuring, but it didn’t completely feel as such.

There was no denying the tiredness your body felt. His touches, soft and affectionate, coaxing you to heed his words. Dabi knew how your body reacted to him. He was your first. Your only.

And you knew him too. You knew better than to not listen.

So you did.