#not a perfect one but I get the impression perfect is borderline impossible and I might've needed to start editing earlier

[teaandinanity]

Me, gnawing off my own arm in frustration: FINE is there a cheat engine table for this--

Some divine genius, musing on the forums: I mean, the saves are totally comprehensible and you can open them with notepad++ if you just want--

Me, now enlightened: A thousand blessings on your house for averting the fury aneurysm I was dangerously close to, I'm going to make my character a tiny god.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part three.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You look down at the post. The photos, carefully taken a few nights ago while getting ready for a dinner gala you’d been brought along to as Sophia’s plus one, are pretty. She and you had scrolled and sorted and scrolled and sorted some more trying to pick the perfect ones, and then you’d written and rewritten the caption more times than you could count before finally settling on something vague but faintly implicit.

You study it for a moment longer, then look back up to your friend.

She smirks. “Trust me. It'll work. I got an ex-boyfriend to come crawling back begging for another chance by making him think I was already moving on.”

“It just seems… mean,” you murmur, frowning. You want Oscar to like you— you want it a lot— but you're not sure if this is the way you want to go about it. “Isn’t this just manipulating him?”

Sophia sighs and falls back onto the bed beside you. She gives you a look, gestures down to your phone, and then curls around your shoulder so she can peer down at the screen. “It’s not a soft launch. There’s no guy. The caption doesn’t mention anyone. If he gets the impression that you’re with someone else, then that’s on him.”

You trust her, of course, but this is Oscar. You’ve known him for years. He’s your brother’s best friend, and for the longest time, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend too. As twins, anything Logan did you tended to do with him— soccer, swimming, biking. You even had shared birthday parties growing up. Karting was the first real thing he’d done on his own, but even then you’d always been close by, and that meant you’d always been close by to Oscar too.

Like she can sense your continued hesitation, Sophia speaks up again. “If you post that, and he doesn’t react, then that’s that. You don’t have to do it again.”

“I just— I don’t know.” You worry your lip between your teeth. “I just don’t think it’s the type of thing that he’d go for. He’s, you know, polite like that, I guess? If he thought I was taken, or moving on, or something, then he’d respect that and wouldn’t bother me.”

The silence hangs in the room. She’s still leaning against you, one hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and the other hugging you into her. When you stand, she lets you go easily, watching as you begin to pace the length of your bedroom, phone clenched tightly in your hands.

When you finally come to a halt in the corner farthest from the bed, you turn and meet her gaze shyly, “What if he stops ‘maybe’ having feelings for me because he thinks I'm taken? Or, what if he thinks I’m not interested and so he doesn’t ever bring it up?”

“Then you take one for the team and you tell him,” she shrugs. “Woman up and admit that the entire time you were out in that fancy dress of yours with those roses, you’d wished it was him who had gotten them for you and you’d wanted it to be him you were getting dressed up for.”

You look back down to your phone.

You’ve never done this before— boys, at least. The chase. Europe hadn’t been a very easy place to live— not with a schedule that made keeping friends virtually impossible, let alone a boyfriend. When you moved back to the United States, you were focused more on your career, prioritizing yourself over anything else.

You’d been single for so long that you hadn’t been in any hurry to change things, but now the lack of experience is making you nervous. Apart from movies and books and the borderline horror stories Sophia has told you about her own disastrous love life, you don’t know the first thing about dating.

“Y/N, is this about Oscar or something else?”

You look up, still biting at your lip. “What if we break up and I’ve ruined a friendship?”

Sophia raises an eyebrow, “Is he the kind of guy that would throw away a friendship because things didn’t work out?”

“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna say no, that he’d be totally fine and we would be able to pretend like nothing happened and go back to how we were before it all, but I can’t,” you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed again. “Context matters too. What if it’s a really messy breakup and we can never look at each other the same? What if he does something so unforgivable that it ruins his friendship with my brother? Logan worked hard to make friends and this first season was rough for him. He’s the only American driver on the grid, and they weren’t exactly welcoming. But Oscar was there for him and I would never forgive myself if I did something to ruin that.”

“What could Oscar do that would be so unforgivable it would ruin a friendship?”

You fall back onto the mattress. “I don’t know that either! Realistically he wouldn’t do anything because that’s just who he is— he’s like the nicest most genuinely sweet guy I’ve ever met. But I’m not a fortune teller! I can’t look into the future and know that he won’t get tired of me and go find some other girl, or, I don’t know.”

You can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes and wipe at them harshly.

Sophia notices and lays down beside you, pulling you into her side again. She runs her fingers through your hair and lets you compose yourself a bit more before she speaks up again. When she does, it’s— “You’re so afraid of the worst-case scenario that you aren’t even letting yourself take the chance. Sometimes you just gotta leap before you look and believe that you’ll land on solid ground.”

“I hate when you get philosophical on me,” you murmur, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.

She sits back up and rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Puh-lease. As if you’d ever get anything done without my wizened words of advice.”

You sniffle and wipe the last remnants of tears from your eyes, then sit up with her and look back down at your phone. The unfinished post still stares back up at you.

“What if I just—” you delete the caption for the umpteenth time and let your fingers dance across the screen, “—say this instead?”

Sophia leans over your shoulder, reads the new caption, pauses, and purses her lips. She reads it again, hums, and then breaks out into a grin. An incredulous laugh slips out and she turns to you with shining eyes. “You’re a damn genius! I knew you were worried over nothing. You just gotta stop getting into your head so much.”

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,827 others

yourusername honey, i’m still free. take a chance on me.

view all 7,631 comments

user WHAT???

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???

↳ user she’s literally saying she’s still free?? why would she say that if this is a soft launch?? 😭😭

logansargeant should’ve taken me with you 😒

↳ yourusername logie we both know you hate black tie events

user girl idk how you can do it i’d be spilling out of that dress with one wrong turn

user THE ROSES?? THE BABY’S BREATH?? I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS

landonorris slay girl queen boss

↳ yourusername lando… what…

↳ landonorris i’m in my supportive era 😌💅 you should try it sometime

user i NEED to know where that dress is from omg

user oh to be a young rich and beautiful socialite

user not to be delulu but there’s a surprising lack of op81 in these comments 👀

INSTAGRAM.

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 429,868 others

oscarpiastri it’s summer somewhere right?

view all 1,021 comments

landonorris hm this caption seems familiar 🤨 i wonder what it could be referencing 🤔

user GOOD LUCK IN 2024 OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡

user wishing this were me rn

user i’m too delulu for this rn 😭

↳ user i’m waiting for y/n to show up in these comments

↳ user did they have a fight or smth??? they haven’t commented on each other’s last few posts

user gosh that’s the dream rn

When you answer the unknown number, on your way back to your room with a tub of ice cream and a plan to eat away your disappointment at the failure of Sophia’s plan, the last thing you expect is to hear Lando Norris of all people on the other end. There’s no greeting, no introduction, just an immediate— “Yeah, so, I’m gonna need you to fill me in on the sitch.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, wondering if this is real. You’ve had maybe a few brief conversations with Lando throughout your various visits to the paddock across the season, and though he was very nice and polite, and all of your interactions were friendly, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. Certainly not “swap numbers and call one another” type of friends, either. Your most recent socializing has been strictly confined to the comment sections of Instagram posts.

“Hello? Y/N?”

You clear your throat, “Sorry. What?”

“The sitch? Situation? That’s an American slang word, I thought you knew that.” He says it so matter-of-factly. As if that’s the only thing you could be even remotely confused about in this whole interaction.

“No,” you answer, shaking your head as if it’ll somehow straighten out the spinning of your mind. “I know what the word means, Lando. I’m just wondering why you of all people are calling me right now? How’d you even get my number?”

You can hear music and voices on the other end of the line, muffled and distant, and then a door opens and closes and the extra noise is gone. Lando takes a deep breath and sighs, “If you must know, I got it from Alex, who got it from Lily, who got it from you. So, you know, transitive property means technically I got it from you, too.”

“I’m gonna choose to ignore how wrong all of that is,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continue down the hall and eventually slip into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You do recall giving your number to Lily, and the two of you have shared a few messages since the end of the season— mostly typical check-ins and catching up with the happenings of your individual lives. Occasionally she sends you recipes she thinks you’d like, and you do the same. You knew she’d given it to Alex because she’d asked you first if that was okay, and all Alex had sent was a brief well-wishes when Williams had confirmed Logan’s re-signing, accompanied by a short message that Lily was looking forward to seeing you in the paddock again.

Ignoring all of that, however, you focus on the matter at hand. “Why are you calling? Isn’t it crazy late in Monaco right now?”

He hums. “I’m the slightest bit tipsy, but I cannot take it anymore. If I see one more caption with underlying subtext like this is a forbidden romance in a period drama I am going to, quite frankly, lose my mind. I need you to explain to me what in the fuck is going on between you and Oscar.”

You pause, and then you groan. “Oh my God.”

“Yes, ‘oh my God’ indeed. Now please explain.”

You heave a sigh, because you know he isn’t going to drop this, but you also know that if anyone could help you more than Sophia, it’s probably Lando. He’s Oscar’s teammate, and at the very least, if you can’t talk to Logan, you can talk to the only other person who probably knows him just as well.

“It’s a long story,” you mumble, curling up in your bed.

He makes a sound, like a scoff. “Okay? I have plenty of time.”

So you start from the beginning. Between spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, you detail how it all started because of a message of condolence, how that had led to a rendezvous for drinks, and how that had led even further to him kissing you in the car as he’d dropped you off at your hotel.

He’s silent up until you mention that Oscar hadn’t acknowledged the kiss at all afterward, and then he makes an affronted noise and mutters something under his breath about stupid guys and heads in asses.

You admit that part of it was your own fault, that you hadn’t attempted to communicate either because you’d been afraid of the reaction and potentially the rejection, but that you’d been kicking yourself ever since for missing out on being able to talk face to face about things when you’d had the chance.

It all culminates in you explaining your current situation, and you tell him about your talk with Sophia and then your friend’s self-proclaimed mastermind plan, which had failed spectacularly when Oscar hadn’t even seen the post.

When you’re finished, there’s a moment of silence before he bursts into laughter.

You flush red in embarrassment and hug the tub of ice cream closer to your chest, feeling miserable and ashamed, but also like you deserve it all anyway. The tub isn’t freezing cold anymore, but the chill still seeps in through your shirt faintly, and it’s comforting against the heated blush.

“Sorry,” he says when his cackling has died down to chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I actually do want to help. I genuinely can’t take one more post with a caption that’s all thinly veiled pining.”

You pause, fiddle with your spoon for a moment, and then hesitantly ask— “Do you know if he likes me?”

Lando goes quiet, and then he hums and admits that he doesn’t. “But,” he adds quickly, “just because I don’t have total confirmation doesn’t mean it isn’t basically obvious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know Oscar.”

You sigh, “But how are you going to help? You can’t just ask.”

“I don’t need to,” he answers, like you’re crazy for thinking he’d do something like that. “I’ve got a plan.”

Great. You run a hand down your face and try to stay optimistic. Another plan.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry

━━ a/n: a bit more writing heavy this part, and a bit longer because of it, but i'm proud of how it turned out! we're finally getting somewhere, and now we've got lando joining the team. genuinely had so much fun writing him, so i'm excited to feature him in future parts!

[roachesbf]

You already know who it isssssss!!!

If you’re up for it, considering you’ve already done a bear courting fic with König if I’m correct.. anywho, if you’re up to it! Bear!Price.

He’s just so big and hairy, and likely musky with an earthy scent. Probably constantly scenting your room or clothes, sometimes even your person as a whole. Big hands keeping you as close as possible.

He’s so possessive at times, keeping you in big bear hugs as he huffs and growls towards anyone too close for liking. He just wants you to himself, can’t risk having someone else’s scent on you.

The man is a heavy sleeper, and refuses to let you go once you’re in bed with him. Keeping you borderline hostage as he purrs and hums pleasantly.

And he’s big on providing. Living up to his little fishermen’s hat as he constantly goes out and brings you back the nicest fish he could find. He wants to show you that he can provide! The perfect mate, no?

He’s just so big on making sure you’re safe and loved. He wants you to know it too. Doting on you constantly and spoiling you with his love.

Anywhooo, per usual, keep up the amazing work!!<333

- 🪶

Bear Price Headcanons

Hohoho you’re totally right about Price’s scenting obsession, he loves having you wear his clothing. Hats, jackets, shirts you name it, at this point his clothes are your clothes. He’s got such an aggressive scent to others though, it’s almost impossible to not smell him on you since he’s with you any chance he gets. Holding you close or nuzzling his beard into your neck, tickling you in the process. It quite literally makes everyone sick and they complain to him about constantly scenting you but he just looks away and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. 

This mf is so funny though because in his sleep he’ll accidentally roll onto you, a few smacks on his back he wakes up and with a grumbly tone says “Sorry about that love :3” But he’s not sorry at all because he thinks it’s pretty funny and you’re lucky if he doesn’t do it again later that night. If he's not on top of you he’s got you in a strong hold on your waist, keeping you close that he’s practically suffocating you but shittt nobody here is gonna complain.

I feel like he’s very embarrassed about being jealous and possessive, because what does he have to worry about at his grown age. If he was doing something and he saw someone interacting with you in a way he didn’t like, he'd immediately pause whatever he was doing, it’s a simple way of body language to show that he’s distressed. Afterwards he’ll go and wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the lips before asking what you were talking about. 

If you tease him about it he’ll just gruff and say “So what..” Of course make, him feel better by giving him a kiss on the cheek. It's very sweet and domestic, always managing to calm him down. 

Tbh Price to me is that one image where it’s like my bitch wife tells me what to do, if he sees you being too rowdy, he’s picking you up over your shoulder. Or he’ll place his bucket hat on you, which surprises you so much you don’t even remember what got you acting out in the first place. He also does that to be smug, he knows everybody hates it and thinks it's ugly…but they also simultaneously want it, it's a need. So when you walk in with the hat, they’re just so jealous because how do you have it???

In my heart I know he is a great cook, and it’s one of the biggest things he does to show off to you. Not only is he strong, smart, but he’s an incredible cook. He’d bend over backwards to impress you with his cooking, he also knows cooking is a thing a lot of guys lack in so it’s just another thing he has over others that proves he’s better.  

[junggunz]

blood on me ft. gun park | 🔞

summary: your former mentor cuts you from training under him without any reason. when he finally speaks to you after weeks of radio silence, you're shocked by the confession he makes. cw: fembodied!reader, smut, long ass build up tbh sorry, established relationship, power imbalances - reader was a candidate for becoming gun's successor, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, gun is lowkey a creep ngl, wc: 3k an: omg i can finally cross ONE thing off my to do list after this long smh. as usual, im killing two birds with one stone. someone asked for gun + sixty nining ages ago and i have an entire playlist of song fics to do. if you've seen the playlist, ignore the fact i skipped a few songs lmao.

temporary shame, I know you like the taste.

Rejected Prodigy. It’s your contact name in Gun’s phone. But he would never let you know that he even bothered to go through the hassle of finding your phone number number. Or the fact that he’s been secretly tracking your location just to see what you’re up to without needing to actually speak to you. Fascination borderlining on obsession was the best way to describe how Gun felt toward you. 

It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t impressed by your fighting prowess. Goo had once made a comment that didn’t sit well with your soul, provoking you to knock him out was just a small display of just how much strength you held in such an unassuming body. 

Alongside god tier level fighting skills, you had impeccable leadership. A natural talent for making money. And your gorgeous face that was more than enough to get others to bend to your will was the cherry on top. Despite the way you subtly reminded Gun of Samuel in his earlier days with the way you desperately craved his approval, you were the perfect candidate to be his replacement for when he wanted to retire. 

However, Gun eventually cuts you off. He has no problem announcing it in front of all the other candidates that there are multiple reasons why you’re eliminated. As much as you pressed and tried to pry to get Gun to divulge his thought process to you, he wouldn’t relent or explain what those reasons were. In his mind, Gun is aware that the reasons he decided to sever ties with you are petty but that doesn’t mean much to him; the idea of having to utter the exact reasons to your face about your disqualification is what keeps him tight lipped and fills him with shame. 

If getting his arm broken by Daniel was better than any night Gun had with a woman, having you give him a concussion sent him straight to Nirvana. During a one on one training session against him, sparring with you had left Gun with an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. You made it impossible for him to focus on anything besides how your body feels against him when you put him into a chokehold. With how intoxicating your fragrance is, it was almost like he found comfort in you crushing his windpipe. He was more than willing to pass out in your embrace. Most— if not all— of the sweat he shed had come from a place of his body burning up with lust rather than physical exertion. Seeing that you had the physical strength to overwhelm him, the last thing he wanted was to give you an emotional upperhand by making you aware of how he felt toward you. 

Meanwhile, Gun rejecting you after all his arduous training you endured was enough to push you to resent him. Having him break your spirit this way felt akin to a romantic heartbreak and it was the most revolting experience you’ve had. You couldn’t stand how much time you wasted trying to get his approval. How much effort you put toward attempting to impress a cold blooded killer. What pissed you off even more was the slight chance that he was just fucking with you for the hell of it. Faced with the task of trying to figure out how to best serve the cold platter of revenge to him, the infamous Shiro Oni occupied way more space in your mind than you would like to admit. 

You don’t keep track of how long you’ve gone without seeing your former mentor, but Gun sure does. It’s exactly 4 weeks. 1 day. 1 hour. And approximately 24 minutes since the two of you cross paths. With how tenacious you seemed about being accepted by him, Gun assumed that you would be the one to reach out to him first. Preferably groveling and begging for another chance, but you showing off your talents to sway him was something he wouldn’t pass up either. Your pride doesn’t allow you to seek him out and instead, he is the one who has to make the sacrifice; showing up to where you were hanging out for the day. 

Gun expected you to be delighted to see him again, perhaps elated by thoughts of him giving you a second chance. You’re not. He expected you to lash out at him once he noticed the look of annoyance cross your face upon locking eyes with him. You don’t. Your lack of reaction shouldn’t make him want you even more; but it does anyway. And with how much distance that’s been put between the two of you, his heart has grown quite fond of you. Even if he wouldn’t use that exact verbiage.

When you try to leave the area, Gun closes the distance between the two of you with just a few strides of his long legs and catches you by the wrist, holding you in an ironclad grip that frustrates you as much as it renders you stuck. With how weakly you try to escape his grasp, Gun begins to ponder why you hadn’t pulled one of your various tricks to shake him. Wishful thinking wants to believe that you secretly like his touch. However, he could admit that his thoughts tend to get deluded when it comes to you.

“Come with me, I think we should have a little chat.” Gun tells you, not really giving you any other option besides following him peacefully or making a scene in public. Quite honestly, you don’t care about causing a disturbance but you find yourself going along with Gun anyway solely because you’re curious about what he was to say. 

The nearest private space happens to be his car and he doesn’t think twice before opening the door for you and not so gently ushering you into the passenger seat before he gets into the driver’s side. He’s quick to lock the doors from his seat and when you hear the locks click, you groan loudly.

“You reject me and now you’re holding me hostage. What the hell is your issue?” You snap, looking at him with your brows furrowed. 

“You’re my issue.” Gun responds without missing a beat, dark eyes holding your gaze; the expression he wears is one you haven’t seen before and it makes you freeze up. “You wanna know why I eliminated you?”

You brace yourself, expecting him to tear you down and go into excruciating detail about every single one of your shortcomings. Having experienced it first hand when he humiliated you in front of the other candidates, you know Gun isn’t one to spare anyone’s feelings. If you were terrible at something, he had no problem picking you apart and if you did well…sometimes he’d give you a compliment. It was all a matter of how nice he was feeling in the moment. 

You waited for him to spit his venom at you and eat away at the last shred of respect you had for him. But it never comes. Instead, you get his scarred hand grabbing your face and staring you down with narrowed eyes that resemble the icy and collected yet predatory stare of a snake. 

“I can’t have a successor that makes me lose focus while training.” Gun says to you through gritted teeth almost as if it pains him to tell you this. 

Hearing this from him doesn’t give you the closure you sought out and only prompts more questions to arise in your mind. Keeping your eyes locked on his, he doesn’t see your hand reaching for his wrist and going for the pressure point. Inhaling sharply at the sudden shock, he releases your jaw from his hold with an anguished laugh.

“Are you fucking serious? That’s it?” You practically snarl, your gaze being fiery enough to cause him to feel suffocated with the intense atmosphere the two of you sit in. 

“What were you expecting to hear?” He questions as a lopsided smirk graces his lips. “If it were simply a matter of you being unskilled, I'd have no problem announcing that to everyone else. It’d be embarrassing if I had to admit out loud that you were rejected just because you evoke more…primal emotions within me.”

Upon hearing Gun’s admission, you need to stay quiet for a bit. You knew if you said something immediately, all that would come from your mouth is a series of curses and swears that would make a sailor blush. Jaw tensing up, your anger steadily bubbling within you, your emotional control is really being tested. The petty reason for your disqualification makes you want to rip his head off, yet you’re filled with a sense of pride knowing that you now know one of Gun’s weak spots. 

All the days you spent toiling over ideas of getting back at him weren’t in vain because now you were being rewarded with him telling you verbatim that it’s you who’s his Achilles heel. Expression softening as you fall into the role of a temptress, you call out to him like a Siren; your hand boldly settling on his inner thigh. 

“Don’t waste anymore time telling me how you feel and just show me.” You taunt him, eyes glossed over with a dangerous lust that challenges him to cross the threshold and forever alter the relationship dynamic the two of you had. “I would have never guessed that all those times I caught you staring at me, you were looking at me with lust and not just criticism.” You muse, mostly to yourself. Even if you were using sex as a means of messing with his mind, there was no denying that you would no longer see him as a former mentor who bruised your ego and he wouldn’t view you as the star pupil he had to drop due to conflicts of interest. 

There’s nothing at stake for the two of you and it’s exactly why you let Gun take you back to his place. As soon as the door closes behind you, you have a moment where you almost want to back out; knowing that making Gun think you wanted him back only to leave him high and dry would be enough of a mindfuck for him. But when you feel his lips collide with yours, the unmistakable sense of carnality he kisses you with is infectious. You find yourself genuinely craving him and needing to feel more of him even if you had never thought of him that way prior. 

Barely getting your shoes off, Gun embraces you in an almost possessive manner, trapping your frame in his arms and forcing you to feel just how hot he got for you. 

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you get off so easily.” He murmurs against your lips when he finally breaks the kiss. 

You should have known better to think for even for a second that he would permit you to leave once he’s finally gotten you back. It took a lot of effort for him to set aside his pride and be vulnerable with you about how he felt. But Gun swore to himself that he would make sure he dragged you down with him into the pit of maddening lust he was wading through. 

Clothes fly off in a frenzy, tarnishing the once immaculate space of his penthouse and leave a trail of garments that lead down the hall to his bedroom. It’s a fight to get you into the position he wants; however, that only made the experience more exhilarating for him. 

Despite you being the one on top, you’re rendered into a state of vulnerability due to how exposed you are. Your pussy in his face, his rough hands anchored on your ass to keep you in place to prevent you from wriggling out of his hold.  Any semblance of power slips out of your hands when you start moaning along his cock while Gun’s tongue starts to lap at your clit. Not wanting to be outdone by him, the one hand you keep on his shaft tightens its hold; jerking him faster while you continue to suckle on the head of his length and tease the tip with your tongue. You’re pleased by how easily it causes him to buck his hips into your mouth, but you hate how his size makes you gag and drool around him. Sputtering and gasping as you pull your mouth off of him, a choked out moan escapes you while Gun eats you out so voraciously. 

“You’re just good at everything, aren’t you?” Gun chuckles softly into your flesh, trying to mask the moan that tickles his throat when he feels your tongue swirling around the tip of his cock and digging into the slit. It’s an involuntary response when his hips buck into your mouth, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. The uncomfortable stretch of your jaw grounds you in the moment, letting you know that this wasn’t some fucked up dream portraying the deepest secrets of your subconscious. You were seriously topping off Gun. Drooling all over his perfect cock like some brain dead slut. In his bed—while his tongue worked your soaked folds and gifted you a pleasure you didn’t think was humanly possible.  

When your need for oxygen finally outweighs your desire to make him cum, you pull away from his cock; panting heavily while one hand continues to pump him sloppily and the other almost lovingly caresses his balls.

“I fucking hate you.” You mutter in that breathy voice that Gun had become oh so enamored with whenever you spoke to him after the two of you would finish sparring. Senses clouded by each flick of his sinful tongue against your private parts, you can’t even string together the words to mock him when you feel his cock twitching in your palm.  

“If you hate me so much, why are you so wet?” He coos in a sickeningly sweet tone, one his hands relinquishing the tight hold on your ass before he dips one of his long fingers into your pussy; a pleased hum rumbling in his throat as he feels how your walls slurp up the lone digit. “Why are you working so hard to make me cum if you hate me?” 

Thankful that he couldn’t currently see the look of embarrassment that washes over your face, your grip on his cock tightens at the sound of him patronizing you. Your hold is so rigid, it almost hurts but Gun was keen on the pain. In retaliation, two more fingers join the one he had inside of you and you whine at the stretch. Your hips lurch buck incessantly; unsure whether you wanted more of him or if you were trying to escape. Alas, he had made it clear early on that any attempts of getting away from him were futile. 

“So wet but still so fucking tight like a virgin. I hope you don’t bleed on my sheets.” He laughs darkly, both of you knowing that his fingers couldn’t compare to the girthy length you currently held in your hand. Fully giving into the demons of lust, your body slackens on top of Gun’s as you lean in to take his cock into your mouth again now that your breathing has evened out.  

There’s an obvious switch that’s been triggered in your brain. You definitely feel the change—and so can Gun as your tongue drags along the veins of his cock with even more precision and care. All efforts to make him cum first are in vain and you end up with quivering thighs and ragged breathing while you're overcome with a bliss you've never known until now. Your obscene moans are mostly muffled due to your mouth being filled by Gun’s length, your lips are poutier than usual when he gently pulls you away and you have no other choice but to admit your defeat. 

Limbs oh so malleable and your mind vacant as a result of the intensity of your orgasm, your resistance is the least of Gun’s worries when he rearranges your body on top of his. There’s no time to fuss or fret about how much you secretly enjoy the feeling of laying back against his broad, muscular chest before he’s grabbing you by the back of the knees to keep your legs apart while the tip of his cock breaches your entrance. Writhing in his hold, you take in each inch with little whimpers trying to get past your lips; the stretch blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. Not even giving you a moment to gather yourself, Gun is rutting his hips up into you, his veiny cock gliding in and out of your hole with his feet firmly planted on to his bed to aid him in keeping his consistently quick pace.                                                                                                                                      

Squeezing your eyes shut, you endure being split open by him. You felt like you were being carried off into cloud nine as the sting of his cock stretching you out had now blossomed into a mind numbing pleasure. Being rendered into this state of submissiveness by your former mentor caused you to give up on thinking about anything else but the sensation of his heavy cock filling you up and hitting all the right spots with minimal effort. The low groans and growls you could hear him emitting from behind you had been the cherry on top, making you even more excited. 

“We could make this a regular thing if you like it this much, you know?” Gun mumbles in your ear as if he was able to sift through the simple thoughts drifting in your mind. 

Whether or not you wanted to fall back into the routine of seeing Gun on a weekly basis and doing a different type of cardio would linger in your head. But for now, all you wanted was to test both your limits and see how much elation he could bring you in one night.

[pickalilywrites]

Zeke is secretly a fan of No Name would be an interesting fic to read lol

thanks! hope you like it :)

for a friend

eren jaeger. zeke jaeger. high school au. 2562 words. read on ao3.

Despite being the younger half-brother of one of the smartest people in the world, Eren Jaeger has never been the best student. In fact, some might consider him to be borderline abysmal. Eren’s aware that traits like being studious and reading comprehension skills are not necessarily inherited, but it’s almost insulting that Zeke is on the track to being valedictorian just like their father was and Eren is always half a point away from getting a C- on his exams. It’s as if their father had poured all his impressive academic prowess into Zeke and left Eren with nothing. Even borrowing Zeke’s old notebooks and hoping he absorbs some of Zeke’s skill by osmosis doesn’t seem to help Eren. 

“Zeke, can I borrow your copy of King Lear?” Eren asks, already inside of Zeke’s room. He doesn’t hear an answer but he wasn’t expecting one anyway. He had heard Zeke enter the bathroom earlier and the sound of the shower running followed soon after. There really wasn’t any reason for Eren to put off asking Zeke to borrow an old (hopefully note-riddled) copy of a Shakespeare play since Zeke tends not to mind either way, but Eren has a habit of doing things too late especially if they’re trivial such as asking for a book.  

Eren bounds across Zeke’s pristine room and towards the smaller bookshelf holding Zeke’s literature books. Eren’s older brother has an interesting way of arranging his books. It’s not enough for him to simply file them away in alphabetical order by last name. No, he has to have them divided into categories: biographies and autobiographies, science fiction and fantasy, historical fiction, classic literature, reference books, etc. Even those might have subcategories and only after each category and their subcategories have been separated properly are the books arranged accordingly by last name of the author and then title (with the exception being series or reference books).  

Eren sits down on the floor to get a better look at the penultimate shelf where the classic literature books are. His eyes scan the spine of these well-worn books, no doubt read lovingly by Zeke. He’s the type of person to do the assigned reading and actually enjoy the book. Eren would rather read the SparkNotes or watch a movie adaptation if possible, but he’s so far found that they’re not substantial equivalents to reading the book, at least not according to his essay grades.  

He sighs and runs his fingers across the top of the Shakespeare section. Antony and Cleopatra, Coriolanus, Hamlet, Julius Caesar. His finger finally falls on King Lear and he pulls it from the shelf. The spine is bent and the pages are thin and riddled with notes taken in Zeke’s neat handwriting. Perfect. If only the shear number of notes Zeke had taken weren’t so daunting, but it’s better than having nothing at all.  

Eren shuts the book down with a sigh and returns his gaze to the shelf. Zeke has undoubtedly read all the books on this shelf. From the looks of it, Zeke has Shakespeare’s entire body of work on the shelf. They’re only required to read Romeo and Juliet and King Lear in high school, but it seems Zeke has taken a liking to the famed British playwright and his works. Eren reaches out to take out the copy of Romeo and Juliet, curious as to what thoughts his brother might have scribbled in the margins. It’s then that he notices something strange about the bookshelf.  

Eren stoops down lower to get a closer look at the collection of Shakespeare. They’re all published by the same publishing house and are in the same collection, so their height and width are all the same. They should be sitting evenly on the shelf, but some stick out a little more than others. It’s not something Eren would normally notice, but in this case it’s impossible for him not to notice when Zeke is impeccable with his organization. Seeing the books sitting on the shelf unevenly should annoy Zeke to no end.  

Eren decides to be the sweet, younger brother that he always is and begins to press the books against the shelf so that they all sit evenly the way they should. He’s towards the end of the historical plays (where Shakespeare had apparently lovingly documented the life of many different Henrys) when he notices that he can’t push them as far as the other books. It’s like there’s something stopping it from moving any further.  

Intrigued, Eren pulls out one of the books — a copy of Henry VI Part 1 — to see what is preventing him from pushing the book back against the shelf. He sees a jewel case, but he can’t tell what group the CD belongs to or the name of the album. It’s strange to see an album hidden behind the books, both because it’s not sitting along the other CDs that Zeke owns and because Zeke doesn’t listen to anything except for classical music as far as Eren knows. He only sees an inch of the cover, but just based off the artwork it doesn’t seem like anything Zeke would listen to.  

Eren reaches in and plucks the CD out from behind the books and examines it, eyes widening as he realizes that he recognizes the cover because he has the exact same copy in his own bedroom. Even if Eren didn’t have the album in his room, he would have recognized it. It’s the debut album of the alternative rock group No Name, a group that had risen to prominence after the recent release of their third EP Requiem of the Dawn. That’s not the only reason why it would be recognizable for Eren, though. It’s also because the lead singer of No Name is Levi Ackerman.  

Levi Ackerman is a senior that attends the same high school as Eren and Zeke. Levi and his friends, Hanji and Mike, had started No Name in the garage of Mike’s house and hadn’t intended on skyrocketing to success. They had uploaded a few demos on SoundCloud and captured the attention of the alt rock scene, although you wouldn’t know it just by looking at them. Aside from the number of listens on their tracks climbing steadily upward every day and the shows and radio interviews they book occasionally, all the members of No Name seem relatively unaffected by their fame. Hanji makes a few jokes about it here and there, but otherwise remains as humble as ever as do the remaining bandmates. Levi in particular doesn’t seem interested in his newfound fame, choosing to keep to himself even when crowds of people flock towards him when he’s doing mundane things like walking to school or stopping by the convenience store to pick something up on the way home.  

For reasons Eren can’t comprehend, Zeke despises Levi. Eren has only encountered Levi a handful of times. He’s found that Levi isn’t very friendly, but he’s not an asshole either. He’s just kind of grumpy and not very conversational. He doesn’t run in the same circles as Zeke, who chooses to network with other top students like himself, so Eren doesn’t know what Levi has done to offend Zeke. From what Eren can tell, Levi doesn’t have any feelings, positive or negative, towards Zeke, but it doesn’t stop Zeke from glowering whenever he hears any mention of Levi’s name. 

The CD seems to be in mint condition. There aren’t any scratches or cracks in the jewel case, and the lyric book inside looks new when Eren opens the case to inspect it. He pops out the CD and inspects the back. It also looks new, hardly played if it was ever played at all, without any scratches in the back. There isn’t any chance that Zeke doesn’t know that Levi is the vocalist of No Name. Everyone knows that Levi’s the lead vocal. Eren wonders if Zeke is planning on taking the CD out to burn it later.  

“What are you doing?” a voice says, startling Eren into nearly dropping the CD. 

Eren had been so intrigued in his discovery that he hadn’t noticed the shower had stopped running earlier. He hastily jams the CD back into it’s case and closes the case. He turns back to face his brother, hiding the CD behind his back although he doesn’t know why. Zeke was the one hiding the CD in the first place for reasons that are still unknown to Eren.  

“Eren, why are you snooping through my stuff?” Zeke asks, stepping towards his brother. His hair is still damp from his shower, making his golden hair look almost brown. He’s squinting a little through his fogged up glasses as he tries to see what Eren has hidden behind his back. “If you’re going to borrow something, you can always ask me. You don’t have to go sneaking around.” 

“Oh, you know,” Eren says with a laugh that sounds false even to his ears. He slips around Zeke, keeping his back to his brother so that the CD remains hidden. He gives Zeke a bright smile to keep his brother off his trail. “Just borrowing your copy of King Lear for my English class. Your notes are always super useful, so I thought I’d take your copy instead of getting one from the school library. I asked you, but I think you didn’t hear me over the shower.”  

“King Lear?” Zeke repeats.  

“Yeah, and I got it, so I’ll be going now,” Eren says hastily. He’s almost got one foot out the door — so close to freedom! — and he’s about to bolt for it when Zeke asks a question that makes his blood freeze. 

“If you have my copy of King Lear, then why is it lying on the ground?” Zeke asks, and Eren follows his brother’s gaze to where the Shakespearean play is sitting on the floor beside the bookshelf where Eren had forgotten it. Zeke looks as if he’s about to pick it up when he turns back to Eren, his brow furrowed in confusion. “If my copy of King Lear is here, then what do you have behind your back?” 

“N-nothing,” Eren stammers even though there’s nothing sinister about an alt rock album. He still feels the need to hide it behind him, stumbling backward as his brother approaches him. He laughs nervously and before he can stop himself the confessions spills from his lips. “I was just looking through your Shakespeare collection and I noticed that they weren’t sitting on the shelf right, so I was going to fix it but then I found this CD and I thought it was weird because I didn’t know you listened to No Name.”  

Zeke stops, frozen in place. His lips are pursed together in a thin line and then his shoulders begin to relax as he says a bit too calmly, “It’s for a friend.”  

“Okay,” Eren says slowly. The CD comes out from hiding and he offers it out to Zeke, but he’s not sure why he feels Zeke’s explanation is hollow. “Why are you hiding it behind your bookshelf then?”  

“It’s a gift for a friend,” Zeke says. He snatches the No Name CD from Eren’s hands and glares at his younger brother. “I’m hiding it so they don’t see it if they come over. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

Something still doesn’t feel quite right. Eren can’t see Zeke buying a No Name album for a friend even if the friend was the biggest No Name fan in the world. Zeke hates Levi Ackerman too much and wouldn’t want to support him in any way even if it was buying an album for a friend. He could have found another suitable gift. Also... 

“The shrink wrap was already torn off,” Eren points out. “Why would you gift your friend an opened album?”  

Maybe there is an explanation for it, one that doesn’t involve Zeke’s secret affinity for No Name, but Eren doesn’t think there is one based on the way the tips of Zeke’s ears redden and how he’s spluttering to find a plausible defense.  

“If I look behind your other books, are there going to be more No Name albums behind them?” Eren asks as a mischievous grin grows on his face.  

“... No,” Zeke says, but he paused too long and Eren dives towards the shelf.  

Eren ignores his brother’s shouts and pulls the books from the shelves haphazardly, looking for more No Name albums hidden behind them. Zeke attempts to pull him away, but Eren shoves him aside and continues to dig around the shelves, letting the books drop to the floor. Zeke can always organize them later anyway. 

“Do you have all the albums?” Eren says giddily, pulling another album from the shelf. It’s the second EP from No Name, Dedicate Your Heart!. He looks over at Zeke who looks absolutely mortified. “You know you could have just bought their music digitally if you wanted to keep it a secret that you like their music.”  

“It’s for a friend,” Zeke snaps even though he doesn’t have to keep the lie up now that he’s been completely exposed. He snatches the EP from Eren’s hands and glares at his younger brother. “And besides, physical albums are more meaningful than digital albums.” 

“Alright, alright,” Eren snickers. Zeke does seem to be the type to prefer physical copies over digital ones. He doesn’t think Zeke’s ever read an eBook in his life even though it would allow him to have a plethora of literature at his fingertips. Curious, Eren steps towards Zeke’s dresser. He wonders what else his brother is hiding from him. “Do you have any other No Name stuff hidden somewhere?”  

“Don’t you fucking dare go through any more of my things,” Zeke says, pointing a warning finger at his brother. He sighs and sets the album carefully down on his desk before picking up all the books Eren had tossed carelessly on the ground. “And do not tell anyone about this.” 

“I don’t see what the harm is in telling people. No Name is getting really popular,” Eren says, but he quickly shuts up when Zeke shoots him another glare. He leans back against the dresser and watches as his brother continues to pick up the mess he’s made. Eren does think it’s fun to have something to hold over his older brother, but he thinks it’s even better knowing something about his brother that nobody else knows. It makes him feel closer to Zeke in a way. “You know, I can probably get you a signed copy of these albums if you want.” 

“Really?” Zeke asks, his head snapping towards Eren. Realizing that he’s too excited for something he had claimed to have no interest in, Zeke clears his throat and says, “Oh, well. That would be nice. For my friend, I mean.”  

“Of course, for your friend,” Eren says with a grin. Even if he’s not exactly friends with Levi, he’s friendly enough with Hanji and Mike to ask their whole band to sign a few albums. He has a feeling Zeke will appreciate it more than he lets on. “And who should I tell them to write out their message to?”  

“Just … a friend, ” Zeke says weakly. 

“A friend named Zeke?”  

Zeke scowls.  

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 16

Part 16/30

16. "Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?"

Pairing: Fives x Tup

Rating/WC: M (borderline E towards the end)/3913.

Warnings: jealousy, mentions of past character death, Fives is kinda angsty at the beginning lol, almost explicit content towards the end.

Notes: Hey guys! I wanted to try a sort of different style this time, push out of my comfort zone a little. Please let me know what you thought!

~~~

“When are you just going to admit you want him?”

Fives had, before this conversation, been under the impression he was incredibly good at hiding how he truly felt. Not just about certain people, but about everything. Before just a few moments ago, in the overcrowded booth in an absurdly dark corner of 79’s, he had viewed himself as a closed book, impossible to read; the type of person to keep his cards close to his chest and put on a perfect sabacc face. 

The only person who had ever been able to tell what he was thinking was Echo. None of his other batchmates had ever been able to tell when he was upset, what he was thinking, what he thought of them or anyone else. No one at the Rishi outpost could tell when he was lying through his teeth, was able to call him on his banthashit. Not even Captain Rex had been able to read his face or body language, has always bought any story Fives wove, always chose to believe his words even when he stared at Fives dubiously and tried his hardest to get into Fives’s head. 

No one had known about how in love he was with Echo. Not until after it was already too late to matter. 

Maybe he simply got worse at it, in the after. Maybe he lost the ability to carefully control every muscle in his face, to keep his eyes light and honest no matter the lie he concocted. Maybe he’s developed a tell since, some tick that his friends he’s made in the after can easily detect. Because before, Echo hadn’t been able to tell him how he knew Fives wasn’t being honest; he just knew. 

Echo was just like that. He just knew Fives, inside and out and frontways and backwards. 

“What are you even talking about?” Fives asks, carefully molding his smile into his typical teasing smirk, the one he uses when he feels relaxed and safe. Not the one which eventually twists into a mean snarl, the one he only forms when he wants to warn off whoever he’s talking to. The one he meticulously designed to scream back off, you’re getting too close to a flayed nerve. He tosses his arm over the back of the booth, over Jesse’s shoulders, and wraps his other hand loosely around his glass. 

“Everyone knows it!” Hardcase almost slurs, his smile big and dopey. It’s one of Fives’s favorite things about him-he smiles with his whole body, pure in his joy. “You’re so gone on him, man.”

Fives scoffs, forces it to sound lighthearted and forces his smile to remain friendly. “We’re friends. He’s my best friend, even.” He laughs at Hardcase’s affronted whine, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “That doesn’t mean I want to be with him.”

“Yeah, you’re friends; but you’re also very in love with him,” Kix chimes in, leaning forward over his drink. Hardcase thanks him for his support by slapping him hard on the back. “You’re different with him than with the rest of us.”

Fives only laughs, plays at being highly amused. If he only denies hard enough, he can make them start to doubt their own convictions. “Yeah? Okay, then what do I do that’s different?”

Jesse, the traitor, turns his head to look at Fives with an evil glint in his eyes despite his fond smile. It’s less threatening than it could be, considering he’s leaning into Fives’s arm and his tongue is slow with the alcohol coursing through his blood. “You notice him, for one thing. You find him, like no matter where we are. It’s kind of funny, actually, we have an ongoing tally of how quickly you’re able to sense Tup’s presence in a room.” He wiggles his fingers at Fives, smiling wider to show his teeth. “Like a jedi, almost. It’s kinda creepy.”

Fives has to work hard to keep his smile playful, to not tighten his jaw. “What does that even mean, Jess?”

“Your record is eight seconds,” Dogma pipes up, always slightly nervous to add to any conversation, as if everyone will tell him his presence is no longer wanted. He’s been like that since Umbara, Fives has noticed. He used to interject his thoughts freely, sometimes despite the actually there obvious discomfort of his friends. He used to speak each and every thought that would enter his head, even when it was abundantly clear to everyone else his presence was truly no longer welcome. 

Fives wishes this felt like an improvement, like the answer to the wish they all had silently made back then. It doesn’t. 

“That’s hardly noteworthy,” Fives argues, takes a sip from his glass before he continues. “That’s actually pretty bad. There’s no way it takes any of you that long to notice someone else walking through a door.”

“No; we mean like, in the mess hall or here or on a battlefield. No matter how many people are there or where we are or who’s firing at you. You just gravitate to his appearance.” Kix leans back again, smirking. “The eight second record was when we were in the Resolute, there were hundreds of us milling in all at the same time.”

Fives sighs deeply, fighting off the urge to glare or roll his eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything; how do you even know I was looking for him? Maybe I was looking for the general or Rex.”

“How about the fact that you always take every chance you can get to spend your down time with him?” Jesse asks instead, pulling away from Fives again to get a better look at his face. “You’ve blown us off to go find Tup more times than I can count.”

“He’s my best friend,” Fives reminds him, and sharpens his smile meanly. That’s one thing Echo knew about him that no one else seems to: Fives is mean at heart. Cutthroat when he needs to be, viscous even when he doesn’t. It was his idea to try and throw the other Dominoes under the bus and get him and Echo transferred. It was him that knew exactly which sore spots to dig his knife into when Rex needed the extra push to defy Krell; him who took careful notes on Rex’s biggest insecurities and deepest regrets in order to use them later. All while everyone else either doesn’t notice or believes he’s simply being honest. But Fives knows how to push without drawing blood, he knows how to tell the truth without shooting to kill. Sometimes he chooses not to; sometimes he wants to hurt. “How many times have you ditched us to bother Kix in the medbay?”

Jesse’s smile drops, his eyes widen in hurt and confusion. Fives hadn’t needed to flirt the line between exposing Jesse and proving his point; he didn’t need to remind Jesse that Kix hasn’t expressed any sort of reciprocity. That was simply to be mean. 

But it was said innocently enough to pass off as a meaningless comparison, perhaps an accident even. 

Echo would have side eyed him with disapproval. No one else notices Fives’s cruelty. 

“That’s different,” Hardcase cuts in, taking the attention off of Jesse’s faux non-reaction. “Jesse is a lieutenant and Kix is the CMO. They have jobs to do. You and Tup blow us off to hang out together for no reason. You just like him,” he ends the sentence with a teasing grin, finishing the last of his drink.

“You think he’s pretty, too,” Kix interjects, flagging down a waiter and asking for another round. “You stare. You watch him. Like you can’t help it.”

Jesse leans back against the booth, allowing Fives’s arm to stay where it is above him. He doesn’t risk teasing Fives again.

“Especially when he is tying up his hair,” Hardcase does tease, wiggling his eyebrows with a shit eating grin. “But also when he’s running laps, or when he’s sparring, or when he’s eating, or when he’s breathing-”

Dogma laughs at that, drawing Hardcase’s attention to him and that in turn making him blush. 

“Tup is very pretty to look at, to be fair,” Jesse mumbles, almost inaudible over the music and chatter of the club. Fives accepts the truce, letting his arm fall to truly rest over Jesse’s shoulders. 

“I mean, that vod over there sure seems to think so,” Kix adds, nodding to somewhere over Fives’ shoulder. He hides his smirk behind taking another sip of his drink. Asshole. 

Hardcase is significantly less subtle, tearing his eyes away from Dogma to crane his neck and search. “Oh, damn. Get it, Tup!”

Fives feels his blood go cold, and fights the urge to whip around. Instead he turns his head in the direction Kix and Hardcase are looking slowly, feigning only the barest of interest. He wishes he had just allowed his imagination to run wild. It would have been easier to deal with, Fives thinks.

What Tup is doing can hardly be considered dancing. His elbows are resting on his dance partner’s shoulders, both hands weaving his fingers through the slightly longer than regulation hair. Tup’s own hair is half falling out of its messy top bun, certain strands perfectly framing his face. His brilliantly flushed face, with his eyes wide and dark with lust, mouth hanging half open as he pants into his partner’s face. 

He’s so beautiful that Fives hurts. 

His dance partner has one hand down the back pocket of Tup’s civvies, and the other riding his shirt up his side, exposing some of the skin of his torso to the rest of the club. While they are technically swaying in what could be considered an approximation to the beat of the song, they’re mostly focused on grinding their hips together. 

It’s so distracting that Fives forgets himself. Feels his smirk melt into a jealous frown, feels his teeth grind at how tightly he sets his jaw. Tightens his grip on his drink and his other hand forms a fist to rest on Jesse’s shoulder. 

Tup’s mouth lifts into a smile at the corners, probably huffs a laugh at whatever the vod said, turns his head to the side and looks up him through his lashes. Leans into it when his dance partner surges forward to connect their lips in what looks like the beginnings of a filthy kiss. One hand leaves the other man’s hair to feel at his abs and run up his chest.

“Fives?” Jesse whispers in Fives’s ear, too quiet to be noticed by the rest of the table; not that they would notice anyway, Fives realizes as he finally tears his gaze away. They’re all transfixed by the sight as well, Kix and Hardcase with amused grins and Dogma with a slightly horrified expression. 

Jesse turns so he can whisper directly in Jesse’s ear, using the other man’s face to hide his words should the others turn to see. “Do you guys really think it’s obvious how much I love him?” he double checks, pulling back to watch Jesse’s face. Jesse frowns at him sadly, shooting one longing glance at Kix before making eye contact again. Fives leans back in, bringing his glass closer to his body. “Then why hasn’t Tup noticed?”

Jesse reaches under the table to place a comforting hand on Fives’s knee, lightly knocking their foreheads together. Leans past Fives’s face to reach his ear, to whisper back. “Fuck him, Fives. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

When Fives turns his attention back to the table at large he notices Kix quickly looking away, his own jaw set in a mimicry of Fives’s just seconds ago. If Fives were a good person, he would point it out to Jesse. Encourage him to make his move. 

But Fives is mean, and now he’s feeling like taking his jealousy and frustration out on others. He smirks at Kix, knows he’s still looking at them out of the corner of his eyes, and downs the rest of his drink. He leans back into Jesse’s space, his lips brushing the shell Jesse’s ear. “You know I would if I could, Jess.” It makes Jesse smile and blush at the connotation, makes him laugh breathily as he attempts to keep quiet. “Dance with me?” Fives asks instead of excusing himself to wallow alone.

Jesse squeezes Fives’s knee again and nods, finishing his own drink quickly. 

Fives scoots out of their booth and offers his hand to help Jesse up, drawing the attention of Hardcase and Dogma. “Going somewhere?” Hardcase asks. 

Fives looks to him as an excuse for why he didn’t take a step back, forcing Jesse to stand entirely in his space, the front of his body flush with Fives’s side. “To dance. Wanna come?”

Hardcase’s eyes light up and he turns to Dogma, giving him a small and questioning smile. “Wanna?”

Dogma gives him a small smile back, ducking his head just a bit, and nods. “Maybe not like Tup, though,” he jokes, drawing a loud laugh from Hardcase and small chuckles from the rest of them.

Fives finally steps back, pulling Jesse by the hand to the dance floor and positions them perfectly so he can see Tup and Jesse can see Kix, who stays at the table alone. Neither of them are particularly good dancers, but the beat is loud and fun and the alcohol is making their limbs loose; they find themselves able to mostly copy the moves of their fellow vode, bouncing on beat and twisting their bodies just slightly to mimic some sort of coordination. 

It’s fun. His heart is pounding louder than the deafening music, they’re sweating and panting together, blood pumping for a reason unrelated to the war. It’s almost easy to forget everything that’s ever made him miserable, to pretend he’s never felt anything other than how he feels right now, pumped up and excited and a little drunk. Fives gets lost in it, just watches Jesse’s face as he also starts to relax and have fun.

Jesse’s hands fall to his shoulders, and it’s natural for Fives to rest his own hands on Jesse’s hips. Jesse yells something that Fives can’t hear, but he doesn’t need to. Jesse turns them around anyway, and Fives is forced to notice that he hadn’t noticed Tup leaving the dance floor. He’s sitting at the table now, a new drink in hand and face flushed. His hair is completely down now, and he’s talking obliviously to Kix, who’s unabashedly staring at Jesse and Fives dancing. 

Someone bumps into Fives, and he stumbles more thoroughly into Jesse’s arms, Jesse locking his wrists together behind Fives’s head. He laughs at their new position, leaning to yell into Fives’s ear. “You can go talk to him, if you want. I can find someone else to dance with.”

Kix glares at him, openly and unashamed, maintaining eye contact with Fives. Fives smirks at him, still feeling mean but seeing a chance to do something nice for Jesse. He keeps eye contact with Kix, raising an eyebrow as he moves his hands to Jesse’s ass and starts to forcibly move Jesse’s hips in a swish he’s sure looks good. He kisses Jesse’s neck, making him shiver, never taking his eyes off of Kix. 

“Better stop if you’re not going to follow through,” Jesse warns, tilting his head to expose more of his neck to Fives’s lips anyway. 

Kix downs his entire drink, slamming it a bit too harshly back to the table. Come and get it, Fives mouths, before moving his lips up to Jesse’s ear. “Thank me later,” he teases as Kix stands. 

“Huh?” Jesse asks, pulling back to look at Fives. 

Fives smirks and steps back as Kix comes up, one hand landing on Jesse’s lower back as he leans in, probably to ask for the next dance. 

Jesse’s eyes light up and he turns a smile to Fives. Fives winks at him and starts to head back to the table, watching Jesse’s attention be completely monopolized by Kix. 

Fives sits and grabs a drink from a passing tray, the waiter turning to cuss him out before scoffing at Fives’s smile. He turns back the way he came and Fives gets to keep his drink. He turns to Tup, fighting to keep his expression neutral despite the sight before him. 

Tup’s face is flushed such a pretty shade of pink, framed so deliciously by his sweaty curls. His lips are wet and kiss-swollen, quirked into a genuine smile. His shirt is askew, the collar stretched out and hanging half off his shoulder now. It shows off the light hickeys and bite marks on his neck and shoulder. 

“Had fun?” Fives asks, voice aiming for teasing. Misses slightly, hopefully unnoticeable in the loudness of the club. 

Tup nods, absolutely beaming, and he’s so beautiful that Fives can’t stop himself from smiling back. Can’t tear his eyes away, despite the jealousy coursing through his blood. “I don’t even know his name!” Tup announces, like it’s something he’s proud of. “He was so much fun.”

Fives takes a couple swigs from his drink, setting it down carefully again. “I thought you were going to take him home,” Fives teases, keeping his smile playful. “Or the ‘fresher, at least.” 

Tup flushes darker, biting his lip and looking back out at the dance floor. Fives almost follows his gaze, almost attempts to see the face of the vod that stole Tup’s attention all night. Can’t tear his eyes away, can’t deny himself the view. He’s just so pretty, and Fives gets it now. He gets what his friends were pointing out earlier. He’s not good at hiding how he feels about Tup. It must be pathetically obvious to anyone who’s looking. 

Tup suddenly looks back at Fives, his smile gone and gaze so intense that Fives straightens up. “What do I have to do to get you to admit you like me?”

Fives’s eyes widen, and he feels his jaw drop in shock. 

Tup cocks his head to the side, eyes looking over Fives’s face. “I know you do. No one else has ever looked at me the way you do. Even when they want me, they don’t look the same. How obvious do I have to be before you get it?”

Fives blinks, and then he feels his face split into an enormous grin. Feels himself start to laugh, feels like the weight of a bantha has been lifted off his chest. He stands and walks to the other side of the booth, forcing Tup to scoot in as he crowds the other man’s space. “Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?” he asks, smirking as he pulls back to see Tup’s face.

His eyes are darkening, and he bites his lip as he takes in Fives’s face. “Pretty obvious,” Tup agrees.

Fives hums, leaning in and gently biting Tup’s earlobe. It pulls a gasp from Tup’s own lips, makes his hand grip at Fives’s wrist. “You’re the most beautiful person alive, Tup. You’re so pretty it hurts, makes me lose my mind.” Tup’s other hand goes to Fives’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his skull, grip strong enough that Fives is sure he couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. “I never thought you would ever look at me the same way. I’m yours, love. All you had to do was ask.”

Tup pulls Fives’s hand into his lap, gasping at the initial contact. “Keep talking,” he begs.

Fives smirks, shifting closer and grinding his palm where Tup put it. His other hand slides up Tup’s back under his shirt, feeling how hot and sweaty his skin is. He starts to kiss from just below Tup’s ear down his neck, lips covering the bruises already there. “Everything about you drives me wild, darling. It’s like you were designed with everything I’ve ever wanted kept in mind.” He bites gently at Tup’s shoulder, drawing such a delicious whine from his throat. “God, the noises you fucking make. Indecent. Makes me wonder what else I could pull from you if I tried hard enough.”

“Fives,” Tup gasps, almost moans, head tilted back spreading his legs so Fives can have better access. Shifts, as if he wants to face Fives instead of forwards, but doesn’t want to dislodge Fives’s hand. 

“I want to put my mouth on you so bad,” Fives groans, moving his lips back up to Tup’s ear. “I want to make you feel so good that you scream. I want to crawl under the table and make it so obvious what’s happening to you that everyone here notices. I want to know what you taste like, want to know what face you make when I finish you. Want to swallow down everything you give me, until there’s nothing left and you’re squirming to get away. I want-oh!” Fives cuts himself off with a gasp, eyes dark with need, pulling back to greedily watch Tup’s face.

Tup whimpers and bites his lip, shivering and grinding up into Fives’s palm erratically. His face is so red, and his breath is coming so shakily, and his eyes are half closed. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so close, Fives.”

“Here?” Fives asks, licking his lips at just the idea of it. At the knowledge that his words have such a strong effect on Tup. The booth is dark, sure; but it’s still visible.

Tup whines in impatience, fingers tightening on Fives’s wrist, before he shakily pulls the hand away. “Tease,” Tup accuses breathily.

“After the show you put on for me just then with that other vod?” Fives asks, scraping his teeth over one of the darker bruises. “You’re one to talk.”

Tup blushes again, pulling Fives back enough to stare at him with dark eyes. He’s about to respond, opens his mouth to say something, when their little bubble gets so rudely burst. 

“Oh, about time!” Hardcase yells, scooting into the booth and pulling Dogma with him. He’s grinning at them, and Dogma even has a knowing blush on his cheeks. “Was starting to think I was the only one with any balls at all in this group.” 

Dogma gasps at the language, and Tup only rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Hardcase. Fives shakes his head fondly and points his head in the direction of Kix and Jesse still dancing. “Some of us just need an extra push, is all.” Hardcase and Dogma turn to watch Jesse sticking his tongue down Kix’s throat, both of them having given up on actually dancing. Hardcase starts to whoop loudly, and Dogma even smiles and leans into him, making Jesse flip them off without looking. 

Fives uses the distraction to slip out of the booth, pulling Tup with him. “I wasn’t talking just to talk, by the way. Come home with me,” he whispers in Tup’s hair.

Tup flushes and starts pushing at Fives, just to get him moving. “See you guys back at the barracks,” Tup says, then smirks over his shoulder. “Maybe give us a head start,” he warns, earning a surprised bout of laughter from their table. 

Fives smiles at him, smitten; he doesn’t know how the night turned out so perfectly, but he’s damn sure not going to question it. He puts his hand on Tup’s lower back and starts to lead them towards the exit instead.

[riddle-me-ri]

Hii, it's me again! :D May I request reader going on a date to the Zoo with Arkham! Ozzie where he buys her a stuffed penguin and the moment she has it on her arms she says: "I'm naming him Oswald" with a smile on her face? Please and thank you!

- Timid Anon 🐁

A/N: So I’m slowly trying to come back from my break, but I just couldn’t not work on this request because one I adore you Timid Anon, two this idea is super soft and cute, and three unironically growing up as a kid and very well into adulthood…I fucking love penguins. It’s a borderline problem I don’t intend to solve. They have always been my favorite animal and I have an absurd amount of penguin paraphernalia you don’t even know! Not to mention all the penguin stuffies I have it’s obscene but I don’t care (and no they’re not all named Oswald…there’s just the one.) So thank you, Timid Anon for letting me venture into this other fixation of mine lol

Trigger Warnings: none, just super fluffy

Word Count: 977

Arkhamverse Penguin x F!Reader - A Stuffed Penguin Named Oswald

Honestly, it was a miracle you got him to leave the Iceberg Lounge. Even Oswald’s crew was impressed, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone just how much you have him wrapped around your finger. 

A sweet smile and a “please,” was all it took. 

If anyone had anything to say about seeing Oswald Cobblepot around the Gotham City Zoo with a pretty woman on his arm, they knew better to keep their mouths shut. No one dared to take photos, make comments under the breath, or anything. They just made room for the two of you to pass through. Which if we are being honest can be downright impossible to do at a zoo during a busy day. 

You had your arm linked with Oswald’s. He wore is familiar black overcoat with fauz fur lining, and you wore your f/c winter jacket. It was another cold winter evening, but it was perfect to check out the colder exhibits. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were made aware of the familiar honking sounds of penguins hollering to each other.  

You gasped in excitement and almost darted away had it not been for Oswald’s thick grip around your arm. 

“If you wanted to go, love, all you had to do was ask.” Ozzie laughed. 

“No-no, sorry I got excited! I’ve never heard so many before! I wonder if those two new chicks have dropped their down feathers.” It had been a couple months since you last came by with some friends. You were excited to tell Oswald all about them. 

You knew he had somewhat of a love-and-hate relationship with his moniker. Once it was a name many used to put him down, but he turned it around. He weaponized it, so now whenever people in Gotham spoke of “The Penguin,” they did it while treading on thin ice (no pun intended). 

For you though, penguins were resilient birds whom relied on each other, and oversought many obstacles that made them live in otherwise extremely futile conditions. They were determined, reliable, and adaptable. Just like your Oswald. 

“Go on then, love.” Oswald unlinked his arm with yours. 

“Ozzie, aren’t you coming?” You tilted your head in confusion as your arm fell to your side. 

“I’ll catch up, there’s something I need to do first. My phone’s been buzzing in me pocket. Gotta tell whoever it is to piss off.” Oz grumbled in annoyance. 

“Oh, uh, okay. Well, you know where I’ll be! Don’t be long, ok?” You started slowly walking backwards to the exhibit. 

“No worries, love, shouldn’t take long!” 

You two went your separate ways, you were still a little confused. He may have disliked his alias at first, but you knew he didn’t have anything personal against the animal. In fact, he was a pretty avid animal lover, but you wouldn’t be caught dead disclosing that information. 

When you finally got to the chilly exhibit, you barely made out the small herd of African penguins. You couldn’t contain the smile that came across your face at the sight of them. You walked over to the glass to get a closer look, often having to wipe away the fog your breath made on the glass. 

You were wiping away another little oval with your jacker sleeve, when you came face to face with one of the penguins that was swimming in the water. 

“Hey!” You exclaimed before giggling. “That’s not nice to sneak up on someone!” 

The penguin opened its mouth but what noise was made was gurgled by the water and was contained within the air bubbles it produced. 

You put your hand on the glass, as if petting its head. “It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this time.” 

You could have sworn the penguin nodded and then swam away before jumping back up to the surface. 

“I’ve only been gone for a few minutes and I’m already replaced?” 

“Geez!” You jumped back in surprise. “Ozzie! I didn’t need to be scared by two penguins.” You crossed your arms in fake annoyance. 

Oswald chuckled. “Didn’t mean for you to wet your knickers, love. Just wanted to pull your leg.”

“What’s that?” You pointed down to the plastic bag in his hand. 

“Oh, right. Well, I told you a small fib, yeah? I didn’t need to take a call, but I wanted to swing by the shop and grab you something.” He lifted the bag up and handed it to you. 

“Aww, Ozzie, you didn’t have to!”

Oz nodded. “I know, I know, but I wanted to. Perhaps something to remember me by whenever the Bat tosses me in the slammer.” 

Your nose scrunched up at the mention of Batman, as you took the bag from his hand.

As you reached into it, you responded. "Oh, Oz, nothing could ever replace–oh my god!"

You absolutely squealed when you saw what was hidden in the plastic bag. 

It was a soft, fuzzy, and squishy penguin plushie. You couldn't resist the urge to hug it close to your chest and give it a good tight squeeze. 

"Aww, Ozzie, I love it!" You pulled the plushie back from your chest and looked into its big cute blue eyes. "And I know exactly what I'm going to name him too!" 

"Oh, and what's that, love?" Oz asked with a smile on his face. 

"Oswald, probably Ozzie for short." You giggled as you hugged it back to your chest. 

Oz's eyes widened at that, obviously touched by your genuine response and enthusiasm. This whole relationship thing is still new to him, but he's glad to see he did something right. 

"I'm glad you like 'im, love." He smiled. 

"I don't just like him, I love him!" You exclaimed. 

You leaned down and gave Oswald a kiss on the cheek. "But I love the real one more."

[idiotcoward]

Gorguts - Colored Sands

As far as I am concerned, Death Metal doesn't get much better then the albums Obscura and Colored Sands, both by Gorguts. There's a genuine chance that I may have to consider Gorguts the greatest Death Metal band of all time because every single one of their albums, is borderline impossible for me to criticize. There aren't really elements here that don't work. The riffs here are those classic dissonant almost literally metallic or industrial Gorguts riffs that slam with the bass right in the bank almost ass if the bass is forcing the guitar track down your throat. On top of that these fucking vocals are soooo God damn powerful. The solos are some of the most technically complex and perfectly executed out there. There are definitely solos that are faster, but so many of those feel more like button mashing up and down the scale for the sake of speed than they do genuinely composed solos meant to go along with the song. In the case of Colored Sands, however, the impressiveness comes more from the complexity of composition and the technical knowledge the performance (ie the way you move your hands on the guitar in a challenging or difficult way on the guitar) then from simply the pure speed of the playing. Overall this is perfect 10/10. Listen to it dumbass.

[elysianslove]

Hiii! I loved your Iwa fluff headcanons and was wondering if you could do one with Suna? thanks <3

yesyesyes i would love to!!! iwaizumi’s version. 

↬ when suna was younger, he really, really wanted a pet bunny. like he really, really loved bunnies, and would beg his parents day and night for one. he even made a really badly edited powerpoint on bunnies and why he deserves one (aside the editing, it was a very persuasive powerpoint. they filmed him while he presented it and the video haunts him to this day). his parents were relentless, though, and didn’t get him his bunny. instead, though, they surprised him with a cat. a cat isn’t as high maintenance since they’re very independent creatures, but can also be very fun. they figured any pet would make him happy. they were wrong. suna hated her so much and would never interact with her. like to the point where he nicknamed her “bitch” and now she mainly answers to that instead of her name. but all that only worked against him, and the cat just kept getting more and more attached to him.

↬ suna now loves her so much, and she’s just as attached to him. like he would kill for her, honestly. it’s his cat >>> everyone else. he has an album on his phone dedicated to pictures and videos of only her, and her bed is in his room because she always ends up sleeping there anyways. he realized later on when he grew older that a cat was the perfect animal for him, and he’s not sure if it’s a parents thing and they really knew or they were just winging it and hoping for the best, but she’s his favorite ever and he would risk it all for her.

↬ his favorite sleeping position with her would be when he’s casually laying on his back scrolling through his phone and she comes and crawls along him to lay on his chest. the warmth he feels within his chest like he just gets so giddy.

↬ suna is crazy obsessed with serial killer documentaries, horror movies, unsolved mysteries, everything like that. his favorite pastime is watching and reading these things, but honestly, it’s not even a like, “wow that’s so cool,” and more of a, “suna what is wrong with you???” type of thing, because he’s the type to have like insidious 2 in the background as he does his homework or gets ready or something. it’s kind of scary how unfazed he is with things like that.

↬ but! yeah he’s extremely brave when it comes to horror movies, borderline unhinged, but his biggest fear? his phobia, if you will? spiders. insects in general, really. he will scream like a sixth grader that’s yet to hit puberty if he sees a spider crawling near him. once he was peeing in the miya twins’ bathroom and some kind of cockroach crawling on the wall and nearly fainted. thank god he was already peeing because he would’ve pissed his pants either way. it’s so embarrassing for him, so he’s so good at hiding it. he just freezes impossibly when he notices an insect and doesn’t take his eye off of it until someone else notices it and kills it. there was this instance when they were at a training camp and he kept feeling as if something was crawling on him, but assumed it was just really hot and his skin was tingling from that. something was crawling on him, though, and it was not just really hot. Top 10 Most Traumatic Moments of his life, especially because atsumu’s first instinct was to record the whole thing.

↬ suna is extremely, and i mean extremely, touch-starved. physical touch has always made him uncomfortable for a reason unknown to him, so he never really accepted hugs or kisses from his family, and would feel so icky if he was roped into a group hug b by his teammates. so when he met you, he thought you’d be so against the fact that he’s uncomfortable with it, because who would want a partner that doesn’t wanna touch or be touched? turns out he actually craves it, and needs it badly, he just needed to take his own time and pace approaching it, and with how understanding you were, he doubted he could ever figure this out without you. he just took it slow, you know? but the more he touched you — held your hand, pinched your cheek, rested his head on your shoulder, pecked your lips for a few seconds longer than last time — the more he wanted you.

↬ when suna became comfortable with the thought and idea that yeah, he actually craves physical touch so damn bad, he wouldn’t stop touching you every second he could. he became insanely clingy, no matter if you were in public or alone. just always has a hand on you at all times. when he’s alone with you, he’s always trying to cuddle with you. you wanna sit and chill on your phone and not really talk? sure, just come do it with your head on his chest. you wanna watch a movie and munch on some popcorn and possibly share a drink? of course he’d love to! just come sit between his legs with your popcorn on your lap so he can steal some and also offer you some sips from the drink. you don’t wanna hug him after a game cause he’s too sweaty? that’s too bad, he wasn’t asking for permission. so you see, suna is a clingy mf. like latches onto you like a koala clingy <3

↬ suna’s music taste is very diverse. his favorite genre is alternative and rock, like the neighborhood, arctic monkeys, etc, but he also loves, loves loves glitchcore music, but also will un-ironically listen to kpop, and rap, and hannah montana’s old music too because why not. he just doesn’t care. if a song is good, it’s good. so what if it caters to a bunch of 12 year olds and not him? who decides that anyways?

↬ suna is very good at hair. like so good. as his sister started to get older, and her hair grew longer, she would sometimes ask him to do it for her before school. at first he was terrible at it, except maybe ponytails cause his hair was long enough at some point to push back into a ponytail, but everything else like parting her hair for pigtails or doing braids or a bun… he was just awful. so, in response, he’d just practice. he’d watch videos as he’s doing his little sister’s hair and be so focused, with his tongue sticking out a little and his eyes squinting as he tries to get it accurate. eventually, he becomes a master at it! you find this out when one day, as you’re just over at his house, his sister comes into his room with a hair tie and a brush and he just carries her up onto his lap and braids her hair as he chats with you and it was so endearing and so impressive and you genuinely believe that was the moment you realized you were in love with him.

↬ he offers to do your hair for you all the time now!! especially if you’ve just showered and are too lazy to brush it and tie it in some way, so he does it for you. he’s actually so, very gentle when brushing your hair, you don’t even feel a thing. if anything, it makes you really sleepy.

↬ when he joined the national team and started to become more and more of a public figure, he’d send you really explicit fan art of him and other teammates he was shipped with just to piss you off. if he was feeling really bold, he’d send you smut written about him. he says he wants to make you jealous. he just wants to provoke you in every way possible, really. one time someone made an edit plot twisting you and him to him and like atsumu so he downloaded video star and made such a bad edit of you and him and posted it on his twitter and instagram and it went viral. like it was one of those edits of just pictures flipping and hearts flashing and lights spasming all over the screen it was so bad it made you cry with laughter. that was his way of telling the world, no one but this person for me, right here <3

↬ i think he’d be very good at doing chores and cleaning and all that, despite how lazy he is. i just think it’s a habit kind of thing, where he grew up doing laundry and making his bed and cleaning his room and washing the dishes that he genuinely doesn’t mind doing it cause it’s natural for him. and he’s learnt to enjoy it.

↬ suna’s favorite color was deep, deep purple at some point, but now it’s between green and black.

↬ he’s caught up with all seasons of keeping up with the kardashians. please don’t ask him why, he doesn’t even know.

↬ once when you were out with him you just gave him a rock that was on the floor and he’s kept that rock with him ever since. like it’s in the drawer next to his bed and sometimes he just takes it out and holds it in his hand while he’s doing homework or scrolling through his phone.

↬ he spams you a lot. like at any time time of the day he just sends you a million videos of him doing the most mundane things; he sends you a video of him eating some almonds and at the end it’s just him going, “i’s good,” or him lip-syncing a song you sent him to listen to, or him trying to do eyeliner because why not. or maybe it’s pictures of him and it’s always ridiculous: him exaggerating him thinking, and then captioning it “thinking,” or just a picture of him on the roof with a peace sign and a pretty smile, or a close up photo of his face saying, “miss u.”

↬ he also spams you with memes all the time. and there’s no set type, it’s just all kinds. really corny memes and really cursed memes, wholesome memes and also memes that bully you. it’s all about the versatility.

↬ suna loves to sleep, he really does, but before meeting you, the only place where he could properly fall into a deep sleep was his bed. after meeting you, anywhere where you were next to him was the perfect place to sleep. if he had your presence near him he could sleep, it didn’t matter, especially if he was resting on your lap or shoulder or gripping onto your hand or resting his legs on your lap. he just wants you close to him, you know? like he feels so safe and comfortable when you’re around, it kind of scares him if he’s honest.

[thesolferino]

⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

[ejcaswelll]

EJ headcanon rec time?

A few of my faves are: clothes sharing (of course), couch snuggling - Ricky's head in EJ's lap or vice versa with his hair being played with. Writing each other songs (EJ doesnt like using his words but for Ricky he will). Sneaking around for secret kisses before they're both out is still at the top of my list.

you literally sent me this over a month ago but it’s only a few minutes ago that my brain decided ok now is the Time

clothes sharing: i’ve lost hours of my life thinking about this with caswen. i think it’s really just the jock archetype schtick of having several unnecessary pieces of clothing branded with their name and ej absolutely being the kind of boyfriend who’d not so subtly leave that clothing at ricky’s house on the increasingly likely chance that ricky would forget to do laundry and throw one of ej’s old lacrosse hoodies on and then walk around school with CASWELL lining his shoulders. i imagine the first time this happens ej is entirely unprepared for how much it floors him (no matter how much he’d daydreamed about it) and during lunch he drags ricky into one of the boys bathroom stalls and kisses ricky’s complaints away about missing meatball monday until ricky’s quiet and pliant enough for ej to slide his hand underneath ricky’s hoodie — ej’s hoodie, holy fuck — until it’s pressed underneath where ej knows his name is printed. “i knew you’d be weird about this,” ricky mumbles against his mouth, but ricky still wears something of ej’s every couple weeks, like clockwork.

writing each other songs: ricky has half a composition book full of songs about ej and he’s definitely never shown ej this and never will, mostly because it so accurately charts the progression of his feelings about ej (that is, from hate to annoyance to reluctant interest to genuine like to messy crush to borderline obsessive boyfriend) that it’s humiliating. sometimes ricky will play ej a song or two from the notebook, like when ej’s sick and looks so pathetic and miserable in bed that ricky thinks he deserves to hear a song ricky dizzily wrote at 4am when he had a sappy dream about ej, or, mostly, when ricky’s heart feels particularly thump-y around him. ricky doesn’t expect anything in return, really, so when ej sits him down in a room ricky didn’t even know existed in ej’s house, with a piano tucked in a corner that ej uses to play a staggeringly beautiful piece of music, it leaves ricky so overwhelmed he ends up crying. “for fuck’s sake, ej,” ricky manages to get out between gasps. ej’s mouth twists nervously. “i know it’s not— lyrics aren’t my strong suit but i make up little things on the piano sometimes, and i wanted—” ricky cuts him off by slapping a hand over his mouth. “stop talking, it’s perfect, god,” ricky says and then kisses ej again and again and again, because he’s helpless not to.

sneaking around for secret kisses: it’s not that ricky isn’t out he’s just not out-out which feels like a stupid thing to explain but ej nods along so seriously that ricky feels an overwhelming rush of affection for him on top of what’s usually there, which is impressive. it means ricky isn’t really ready for handholding in the hallways or ej’s arm around him at lunch or any kind of public anything. unfortunately, ricky’s still a seventeen year old boy, which means he sees ej for all of three seconds in their shared lunch period and immediately wants to jump him. this also feels like a stupid thing to explain but ej nods along very seriously once again (although ricky noted a smug twitch of a smile there for half a second) and says, “we’ll figure it out,” with a quick squeeze of ricky’s hand. we’ll figure it out apparently means ricky’s suddenly living in one of those forbidden romance bodice rippers nini used to hide under her pillow, because ej drags him behind bike sheds, into janitor’s closets, into absurdly expensive backseats, and — in one particularly risky instance that ricky initiated out of sudden teenage horniness — between library shelves. “why did you have to make this so hot,” ricky pants between kisses, “now the whole situation’s even worse.” ej kisses him again, in a way that makes ricky press impossibly closer. “oh, well,” ej says, with zero remorse.

[voiceless-terror]

In which Martin and Gerry help Jon acquire a cat, among other things. 

“Martin, look!”

A phone is shoved in his face; on the screen is a tiny black kitten sprawled on a carpet with the headline “Free to a Good Home!!” Martin knows where this is going.

“Finally time to bite the bullet, eh?”

“We could surprise him!” Gerry’s voice is animated as he waves his phone in the air. Martin loves when he gets like this, unguarded and sweet. “You know how stressed he’s been. Honestly, I’m shocked we haven’t gotten one already.”

“Well, he’s certainly been hinting at it.” Martin gestures broadly at the walls of the bookstore, decorated with various cozy knick knacks and art they’ve picked up at charity shops. There’s no less than three oddly majestic cat paintings along with a shelf of tiny porcelain felines, not to mention the gaudy clock that has cat breeds instead of numbers. Jon has...particular taste. “Not very subtle, is he?”

“Should I message them, then?” Gerry squints at the screen. “We met them at trivia a few months ago - Mara, the one with the-”

“Green hair, yeah.” Martin remembers the night rather fondly. Gerry usually spent most trivia nights scowling in the corner and making snarky commentary with Jon, but on that particular occasion he had a few drinks and was considerably more relaxed. He managed to charm half of the bar with his stories and wit while Jon stared on, adoration clear on his face.  “But you know Jon would kill us if we didn’t let him have a say. You know how he gets, he needs to prepare-”

“-buy ninety toys-”

“-think up a ridiculous name.” They both laugh at that- Jon’s got a penchant for renaming their friend’s pets when he doesn’t think their moniker “suits them.” He’s gotten into more than one fight about it. “Text him so he doesn’t stay late, though. I’m not staying up until midnight again.”

“On it.”

_______

They hear Jon before they see him. 

The door creaks open, alerting them to his presence as Jon lets out his usual long-suffering sigh (Gerry fondly calls this mood ‘The Bouchard Blues.’) His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are barely open; from the slight indent on his face, Martin reckons he fell asleep at his desk again. Gerry meets him at the door, grabbing his bag and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Rough day, love?”

Another sigh, this one a bit more huffy. “Elias came in at half past four with a box of ninety random documents and wanted them all organized by tomorrow. Impossible, of course, unless I stay the night-”

“But you came home!” Gerry says it with a sort of wonder in his voice; Jon very rarely stands up to his boss, no matter how ridiculous the ask. 

“W-Well, you said it was important,” Jon looks between them with large, worried eyes. Always assuming the worst. “It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“Jon, I thought the twelve reassuring texts and afternoon phone call put that to rest,” Gerry replies as he steers them towards the couch. “Suppose I should’ve just told you. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He unlocks his phone and scrolls until he finds the ad, handing it over to Jon.

His eyes immediately light up, alert and awake. “Cat!”

“Cat,” Martin agrees, settling down beside them. “We were thinking of getting one for the bookstore-”

“Of course,” Jon’s smiling that rare, bright grin and Martin melts just a little. “It’s only logical. And I do like black cats-”

“Damn it!” Gerry groans, startling them both. He throws his phone down on the couch, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Someone just claimed her. I knew I should’ve said something-”

But Jon’s already fishing his phone out, his smile not dimming in the slightest. “There’s a shelter not too far from here- I’ll see if we have to make an appointment. Martin, can you call Georgie? She’s got an excellent carrier for the Admiral, and she can probably recommend other necessities-”

They end up going to bed at midnight anyway.

________

“I still don’t see why we had to order so much,” Martin complains after another confirmation email lights up his phone. The credit card bill’s going to be astronomical this month. “Surely we’re overpreparing. We don’t have room for the deluxe cat tower in the shop, and we certainly don’t need one for the flat as well.”

“I assure you these are all necessities, Martin.” Gerry and Martin are both fairly tall, but even they have trouble keeping up with Jon’s brisk pace, sharing a fond look over his head. Jon managed to find them a Saturday appointment with a rather impressive combination of wheedling and charm. When it came to cats, Jon didn’t pull his punches. They made it to the shelter in record time and Jon burst through the doors, his next words full of self-importance. “We’re expected. Jonathan Sims.”

They’re led back to a large room by an amused assistant, Jon at the front of their little line. Martin watches as his eyes light up upon seeing the many cages that lined the wall; even Gerry seems a bit excited, though he tries to hide it by hanging back. Gerry’s never been much of an animal person; he shares Jon’s distaste of loud and jumpy dogs too unpredictable in their behavior. He only just started getting used to the Admiral, and that was through much prodding on Jon’s part. Jon’s love is surprisingly infectious. 

Jon peers into each cage intently, answering every inquisitive noise with a prim “Pleased to meet you.” One of the first cages contains a fluffy brown cat with curious eyes and Martin stops to poke a finger through the door. “Walnut” (as provided by a helpful nameplate) does not respond, though she seems interested. 

Jon’s already halfway down the row before he stops in his tracks, eyes trained on a large, grumpy ball of gray fur sitting right at the bars of the cage. He’s missing an eye, and he begins to growl as soon as Jon nears him.

“This one.” He declares, staring as if entranced. He hasn’t even touched it or attempted to pet it- they’re locked in some sort of silent standoff. Martin’s reminded of those romantic comedies Jon and Gerry hate, where couples lock eyes across the room and it's love at first sight. He surreptitiously takes a picture. Adorable. 

“Jimmy?” The assistant inquires. Jon scoffs at the plainness of the name. “He’s been here awhile. Not very friendly, I’m afraid.”

“No, not Jimmy.” Jon offers up a hand, and the cat comes closer, sniffing at it with suspicion. After a few moments, he butts his head against Jon’s hand, earning a smile. “Lance Corporal.”

“No.”

Jon swivels around, eyes narrowing at Gerry’s words. It’s the first time he’s spoken and he’s got one eyebrow quirked up in amusement. It’s a good look on him. Jon, however, is having none of it and he puts a hand to his hip. “And why not?”

“It’s such a mouthful.” Martin has to agree; it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “I’m not going to call him that. What about Lance?”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Martin sighs; Gerry and Jon get along like a house on fire but when they bicker, they bicker. He eyes the cat that’s now rubbing against Jon’s hand and purring; he hopes the its sudden geniality will extend to Martin and Gerry. Jon would pick a cat that’s just as prickly as he can be.

Martin gives it a good look, coming up beside Jon at ‘Jimmy’s’ cage. The cat immediately stops its gravely purr, it’s eye now trained on Martin. It’s unnerving, Martin never thought a cat could radiate authority but this one surely managed to. If any animal deserves a title, it’s this one.  “What about the Captain?” he asks in a fit of inspiration.

They both turn to look at him; Gerry amused, Jon thoughtful. “Go on.”

“It’s a title, you always liked the naval ones.” Jon nods in agreement, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “He looks like an old sailor, very distinguished. I dunno, I think it’s cute.”

“The Captain,” Jon whispers in awe as the cat resumes rubbing against his hand. “Martin, that’s perfect. Inspired, even.”

He can’t help preening a bit. “Thank you.” Gerry rolls his eyes.

And then there’s the moment of truth- the assistant opens the cage door and Jon steps forward with all the solemnity of a man about to be knighted. He reaches out his arms and the cat lets itself be picked up, going limp as Jon brings it to his chest. He sighs in contentment, giving himself one more moment of bliss before he perks up and opens his eyes.

“Now pick yours.”

_________

Three. They’ve got three fucking cats.

Martin and Gerry immediately began to refuse, but Jon was insistent. “The Captain is obviously very partial to me, and I think you should have some say in who we adopt. If we each get one it eliminates any favoritism. It’s only logical.”

There was nothing logical about it. Three cats and three people in their tiny flat, or worse, destroying their bookstore. They didn’t have the space, the cats might not get along, it would be too expensive. But Jon wouldn’t hear of it, countering every point in a calmness that was borderline unnerving. Martin shot Gerry a pleading look; he’d gone silent after the initial refusal, content to let Martin do most of the arguing, but he just shook his head in amusement- he knew how this would end, and Martin did too. As the final nail in the coffin, Jon deployed the eyes and that’s how he found himself in the front of a taxi with a lapful of Walnut. She’s a friendly thing, instantly purring on contact and meowing whenever he turned away. Martin hadn’t the heart to turn it away.

Gerry took more time. He slunk around the cages and the cats seemed to sense his reluctance. But soon he came upon a small, sleek black cat, not unlike the one from the Facebook post. It was a tentative thing, barely coming to the edge of its cage to sniff at his fingers, but Gerry was determined, patiently waiting the fifteen minutes it took to get him to warm up. Martin didn’t point out the similarities between it and a certain goth, though he shared a knowing look with Jon.

“I’ve got it - the Unfathomable Void.”

“Dear God,” Martin muttered, rolling his eyes. So dramatic, the both of them.

Jon snorted. “That’s a bit much.”

“Okay, Lance Corporal.”

“Excuse me-!”

“Settle down, boys,” Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, he looked liable to pounce. “If that’s what you want, go for it. But we’ll call him Void for short.” Gerry nodded, seemingly satisfied. Jon continued to scowl, though without any heat.

The cabbie was definitely not pleased at having to cart around three men and three cats. He muttered the entire drive while Jon bounced in the backseat, cooing at his companion. Gerry sat much more stoically, though Martin didn’t miss the tiny smile as the cat nipped at his fingers. Jon’s insistence on multiple supplies was starting to make sense now. He definitely planned this from the beginning, sneaky thing.

“Oh no,” Jon suddenly said upon entering their flat, struggling with the carrier in his hand.  Martin’s starting to think he shouldn’t have picked such a massive cat. “I forgot this was for the bookstore!” 

“Well, yeah.” Gerry sat his cage on the ground, kneeling down beside it. “I figured mine or Martin’s would do. The Captain’s not very friendly, Jon.”

“But what if they get lonely? We can’t split them up.” Jon’s eyes dart around the room, growing more conflicted by the second. “Perhaps we should keep them all at home.”

“There’s no room, Jon! And no one’s here during the day.” Martin surveys the room- the three carriers already seem to take up an enormous amount of space, not to mention the living creatures inside of them.  And all of those packages, that damn tower…

“You can take them back and forth. Commute.”

“Christ, we did not think this through.” Gerry’s smiling even as he says it, watching as the Unfathomable Void slowly makes his way out, sniffing tentatively at the air. Walnut’s content to stay in her cage, and Martin tucks her in a corner away from the other two. Jon’s already got the Captain out, holding him in his arms and refusing to let him go.

“You’re right, we didn’t.” Jon agrees, tucking his face in the Captain’s fur. “We should’ve gotten four-”

“Fuck’s sake, Jon!”

“Let’s talk about this later, alright?” Gerry takes Martin’s place as the voice of reason, a rare occurrence. “We’ll keep them at home, let them get used to us, and then we’ll figure out the bookstore situation. No sense getting worked up about it now.” Jon sighs, cradling the mass of fur to his chest and plopping down on the couch. Martin’s sure they’ll be at it again tomorrow; Jon sniping as Martin tries and fails to put together a massive cat tower, Gerry groaning about whatever surprises the cats left for them in the morning. The next few weeks were going to be stressful, to say the least.

For now, though, he sits with his partners once again until midnight, watching their new additions roam about the flat and ignore each other. Jon frets, Gerry sighs, and Martin unsuccessfully attempts to steer the conversation towards anything but cats. By the end of the night, only Void manages to feel at home, curling up in Martin’s favorite armchair (much to his chagrin). Could’ve gone worse, Martin cheers himself with. They’ll get used to the flat. And the bookstore. Probably.

Later that night, once their partner’s asleep and snoring softly between the two of them, Martin turns to Gerry, borrowing Jon’s patented sigh. 

“We’re gonna get a fourth cat, aren’t we?”

Gerry’s voice is just as resigned. “Yeah, reckon so.”

“Christ.”

-------

Others in the JGM series:

What We’re Given and What We Make

At the End of the Day

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945809

[monsoonblooms12]

Bittersweet (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: OH Book 1 Chapter 4 written from Dolores Hudson's POV

A/N: I really wanted to do this because Dolores is such an amazing person and this chapter is one of my favourites in the entire OH series. This picks up from the office fire and ends at Dolores's death.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤍

Characters: Dolores Hudson, Ethan Ramsey, f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Pooja Sharma (f!MC)

Word Count: around 2.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff then Angst

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters and some of the dialogues. I only own my MC.

Triggers: Complications in pregnancy, Few Curse Words, Character Death

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 23: Classic/Classical

Other Works

Clickety-clack!

Dolores's fingers danced on the keyboards in a swift motion as she strived to complete this last email and get home and have a sleep that she missed yesterday due to late-night cravings.

Around her, a chaos of whispers spread as her colleagues engaged in mindless chitter-chatter of the last hour before the end of the office day.

A few nudges of Hey, Dolores! and its variants reached her, but she steered past them, focusing completely on her work.

Just one more line anndd,

Done!

She hit the send and the ping of the 'sent' notification calmed her overworked nerves.

Come on, Lil tadpole, let's file these papers, get ice cream and go home.

She fondly rubbed her belly. 26 weeks in and yet the fact that she was going to become Mamma Froggy was overwhelming and exciting.

She got the prints and in a hurry, nearly got a paper cut.

Careful there! She cajoled herself and started filing those messy sheets of her hard work of the day.

She was almost done just as-

Waaahhh!

The blazing sound, very much like a siren's, reached all of them, leading to the eruption of panicked commotion between all of them.

They had been run through the fire drill so many times that they didn't need to be told that it was a fire alarm.

Dolores left all her possessions, carrying only her bag with the stuffed froggy she had bought for her baby and tried to run.

But being pregnant doesn't make it very easy. Even more, if there was a fucking fire at the place.

People went haywire. Very few cared about the fact that she was carrying a baby, and they should have the minimum decency to help. Most would selfishly try to save themselves, not giving a damn about anyone.

Dolores tried to pave a way for reaching the elevator. It was nearly impossible for her to get down the stairwell in time to save herself from the hazardous situation. She could see that most of the people had already evacuated.

Why was the fire department not here yet?

The fire was ablaze, surroundings hot, and amidst all, Dolores walked slowly, worried only about her little tadpole and not herself.

She pressed the buttons of the elevator. Waited. But nothing budged.

Fuck it!

Smoke engulfed her and she felt suffocated. All through the light-headedness, she could faintly hear, the siren of the ambulance. She hoped someone would save her from this fiery hell.

But there was no one to help her. No one around. The building burnt and if she did not think of something quickly, she would burn with it as well.

Not viewing any other options, she screamed with as much strength she could garner. Once, Twice, Thrice.

The next actions happened quicker than the blink of an eye. She saw a handsome EMT rush towards her. Even though she was already in a blazing environment, she couldn't stop the he's hot reflex of her brain cells. He came to her and reassured her that he would be able to save her and her baby, picked her up, and slowly, yet swiftly, got out of there.

Just like a superhero.

She thought of telling this story of Super-Man coming to save him and his Mama to her baby and the thought made her giggle.

Her head was light, and she felt choked, but her mind would keep going to the little angel of her womb, worrying only for him.

The last she remembers was reaching the ambulance and coughing vigorously. She couldn't breathe normally. She tried and failed miserably. A slow sensation of blacking out and after that, everything blank.

After who knows how long, Dolores feels the glare of white lights around her giving her eyes a painful competition to open up. She squints, tiredness spreading through her body. From office work or the life-threatening experience? She does not know.

She slowly, very slowly, tries to sit up, her hand on her belly, tenderly stroking it, as if to let the child know that his Mamma would not let any harm come to him. Nurses check in on her, one of them replacing the oxygen mask with a nose tube, and she felt a bit more relaxed.

As she was taking in the surroundings, she realized,

Edenbrook!

Coming back here after so many years brought back many memories. The first time she came here. Oh, how panicked she was! She was getting jitters but that calm and brilliant doctor took care of her, not only inside the hospital but also outside it.

Dr Ethan Ramsey.

He still worked here, he had told her in his last email. I need to meet him! She thought.

When was the last time they had met? In that coffee shop last year, right? It had been long.

She traced the name she had thought for her tadpole over and over again on her belly as if to make him memorize it before coming here to her, and looked around.

There was a minimum difference between the room she had been kept in the first time and the one in which she was now, but the time gap made her feel everything was new.

All of a sudden the door swayed, letting in a young doctor and,

Ethan!

She was genuinely excited about seeing him. Of all the possibilities, she hadn't really considered the fact that he would be coming to treat her. He has important cases to take care of than petty smoke inhalation, right?

A frown appears on his forehead. "What did you get yourself into this time, Dolores?"

His stern tone is the tough layer of a walnut, which hid his soft corner, the concerned heart. She smiled at the realization.

She quickly filled him in with all the details. The fire. The hot superman. The baby. Everything.

She finds the young doctor's surprise about Ethan having friends amusing. The look of surprise she had on her face was priceless.

But when the doctor asked her,

"Was Dr Ramsey always so mean?" she guards her mouth using her hand, "And so handsome?"

It was Dolores's turn to be shocked. She knew just how much Ethan hated interns. He used to whine about how stupid they were all the time to her, online & offline. And here was this intern, having enough courage to ask her such a question in front of him.

Impressive!

"This man's definitely got grouchier than before, but even then he had an edge"

"And as for handsome, I think he has aged like a fine wine" Dolores winked and Ethan fumbled for words.

When he got his tone back, it was strict.

No matter what anyone else thought, Dolores knew the real Ethan. The one without his rough and tough exterior and mean demeanour.

And that Ethan, if he ever came out, would make everyone fall in love with him.

As the doctors mumbled between themselves, she looked around, searching for something.

Umm Hmm. She couldn't see it.

"Excuse me Doctor Sharma" Both of them turned to look at her. "I remember having my bad when the hunk brought me out. Did they bring it here?" She asks, anxiety on its borderline, ready to burst out.

She needed it. Very Much.

Dr Sharma looks around for a bit, carefully conscious eyes trained to spot abnormalities. Her eyes, soon enough, fall on the side table of the bed and she picks the purse up and hands it over to Dolores.

Another frantic search follows. She turns all the contents up and down, her happy demeanour replaced with a visible frown.

It's not here, she says, evidently panicked.

A sadness spreads on her face.

"I must have dropped it in the office" She is on the verge of crying.

Dr Sharma places a kind hand on her shoulder. What Happened? Her questioning eyes wordlessly ask.

Dolores sighs, "It probably sounds stupid but I saw this adorable little frog on my lunch break and had to get it for my little tadpole."

"My parents are gone and the father's not in the picture." She adoringly places a hand on her swollen belly, "I just want everything to be perfect for him."

Dr Sharma gives her shoulder a gentle push of reassurance, and adds, "It's not stupid Dolores, absolutely not. I feel like you're going to be a great mom."

Her words make Dolores smile despite the upsetting circumstances, "Thank You. I- I just wished I hadn't lost it."

She stays lost in the thoughts and daydreams of her little tadpole playing with his first gift, growing ever more upset with every passing second.

"I and Dr Ramsey will find it for you!" Dr Sharma's excited tone jolts her out of her thoughts.

She is surprised first and slowly a smile appears, "Really Ethan? You would do that for me?"

He hesitates.

"Erm- Yes, sure." He fumbles.

"Dr Sharma, let's get this urine sample to the lab first. I will meet you in the lot in ten minutes."

Relieved and Happy, Dolores exclaims, "I am 26 weeks pregnant, Ethan. Not gonna take 10 minutes to make me pee!"

And in 15 minutes, they take her urine sample away and bid adieu with a promise of bringing her token of love for her tadpole back.

She was extremely grateful for Dr Sharma. She doubted if Ethan had given in the first time if it had not been her taking initiative.

Wait a Minute.

Ethan Ramsey listened to an intern? That too, in the first time itself? The observation blew her mind.

She recounted the time he had called her to his home to give a dinner treat. Lovely memories of a different face of the man came to her mind like the waves reaching the shore, one after the other.

"Mmm... Ethan, this is delicious!" Dolores found herself falling deeply in love with this masterpiece of Georgian stuffed chicken.

"Thank You, but it wouldn't have got done without your help" Ethan was never the type to take credit. Boast, Huh? What's that?

That's what she liked the most about him. A fine, handsome man, talented without bounds, a successful doctor having shitloads of money and a chef. He was a complete package and yet seemed to be subtly unaware of it.

They chatted about everything from opera to music to their first meet. It was a jolly time.

That is, until, the conversation landed on romance.

"So, seeing anyone?"

"No, not currently." He blushes a bit.

"Imagine" Dolores leans back on her chair, stretching her legs, "if, I said if, you fell in love with," she pauses to look at his curious face, "an intern?"

"Impossible."

It came even before she had finished the word. Dolores was amused.

"Just imagine!"

"I don't want to waste time imagining something as implausible as that. Can we talk about something else please?"

And here he was today, listening to an intern, a different demeanour than usual. Not that it was love, yet, but there was something.

Was he impressed by her?

He talked differently, listened patiently to the young doctor. That Ethan Ramsey who would not stand with an intern for 5 minutes, listened to one?

Anyone who knew him would laugh off the fact and say it was a joke.

Dolores made sure that if it happens, the falling in love with an intern, she will not let Ethan see the end of it. Teasing him to annoyance, yes that's what she would do.

She turned on some soft classical music on her phone, spreading an instant calm and dozed off for a while...

She gets up with a start on the sound of the door opening. She rubs her eyes to get a better view of the people in front of her.

It was Ethan and Dr Sharma!

She looked at them and yes! there it was, her tadpole's froggy.

She was overjoyed.

"You got it!" Dolores breaks into a grin as the sterilized frog is given to her.

"Happy now?" Ethan asks, the faintest glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Yes, very, very, much! Thank you so much, Ethan."

She pulls Dr Sharma into a small hug, "You too Dr Sharma, thank you!"

"Of course, Dolores." The young woman's beautiful face gleams at her, "and you can call me Pooja."

After few minutes of chit chat, Pooja leaves to get Dolores's reports.

"Switch on the TV Ethan, it's boring to sit here and do nothing."

"You know you can do better things than watching stupid TV shows?"

"I am doing it because I want to. The least who can do is help me." She shrugs.

"Fine, fine."

After going on a roundabout tour of the various broadcasted shows, they settled to watch a comedy.

Soon Ethan's stoicism got lost in the wilds and he started laughing along with her.

All the while Dolores held the Froggy affectionately to her tummy, to her little tadpole, as if to show it to him and ask if he likes it.

Amidst all the laughs, the medical reports are completely forgotten until there's a soft knock on the door and Ethan looks at someone from the corner of his eye and go out to meet them.

Still, she remains blissfully unaware of her health conditions and basks in the moments of delight she gets alone with her tadpole.

Her eyes remain glued to the TV screen until the doctors come in and from the morbid faces they wore, she knew that the reports were anything but good.

She switches off the TV.

"What is it? Ethan?"

Pooja steps forward, "I want you not to worry, Dolores."

She feels a mild panic attack bursting inside her, "T-That's what people say when there is something to be worried about. Is my tadpole okay?"

Pooja sighs, "Have you heard of preeclampsia? It's a disease affecting one out of ten pregnant women. In most cases, it is manageable, if monitored properly. But in your case-"

She pauses. And Dolores knows that whatever's coming will not be hopeful.

"It's serious."

Dolores quickly asks, "How serious?"

Not too much. Not too much. Please, god, not too much. She crosses her fingers.

"The blood flow to the placenta is slowing. It could deprive your baby of vital nutrients and oxygen."

With his morbid mask matching his melancholy tone, Ethan says, "Your baby is at risk."

Shit.

"B-But I can still feel the baby kicking!" She urges them to come and feel for themselves.

"Dolores it just means the delivery needs to be done early."

"Impossible." Dolores remarks with a deadly determination. "It's too soon."

"Babies delivered at 26 weeks have a good chance of survival." Dr Sharma tries to convince her.

"A-A chance?"

She is not going to play a game of chances with her beloved tadpole, her little jewel.

They keep convincing her.

"Yes he'll have to spend some time in the N.I.C.U and there are chances of post-birth complications-"

"And some don't make it at all. Is my baby is in danger now?" She asks with a motherly force.

"No, not immediately. But-" Ethan is on his tracks to convince her again.

"Then my little tadpole is staying put."

"Dolores—"

"No, Ethan! Just...give me some time! As long as you can give me. Please" It is a request from her heart, and she is on the verge of tears.

"I give you tonight. To come back to your senses."

When they leave, Dolores cries, caressing her belly, her little tadpole in there. She cannot take a risk with his goddamn life, never ever.

Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds the stuffed frog even tighter to herself, praying to god for his magical abilities and to save her baby.

Please.

She fell asleep while crying. When she wakes up, she finds a few unknown nurses and doctors standing there.

She tries to speak but cannot form words. Her head feels light, just like it did in the office building. She could not sense anything, swallowing was trouble.

She makes random sounds and the people come rushing to her, just as her body breaks into violent convulsions.

"We need to take her to the surgery, QUICK!"

They call for a code blue and everything that happens following that is a haze to her.

They are rushing her to the surgery. Her body shakes vigorously, and she can feel that she doesn't have much time left.

She holds the doctor's hand who was rushing her to the O.R.

"N-nam-me him-m E-Ethan."

And with that, she slowly spirals down the realm of unconsciousness, the last thought to ever strike her mind was,

Little tadpole, mamma loves you. You will be okay. Mamma will always be there with you, for you.

And with that her breath leaves her body, the last tear dropping on the O.R. bed.

As Ethan Hudson sees the light of his new life, Dolores passes away into the darkness.

I love you little tadpole.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🤍.

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @mercury84choices @udishaman @jamespotterthefirst

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

[jamespotterthefirst]

October 31st (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.3K Warning: Language Premise: Ethan Ramsey doesn’t do costumes... except maybe for her.

A/N: A pointless Halloween fic

A/N2: For Day 28 of @choicesoctoberchallenge2020​. The prompt is “Costume”.

1. Intern Year

Ethan resisted a groan as an atrocious, remixed version of The Monster Mash blared through the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the drunken crowd. Characteristically, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he wondered why he decided to venture out on the worst night of the year. Perhaps he needed a drink that badly after another full day of dealing with interns.  

“Time for a refill, Dr. Ramsey,” a voice said over the music.

Ethan hated the way his pulse quickened at the sound.

Doing his best to appear collected, he shot what he hoped was an impassive glance at the figure now standing beside him at the bar, the floral notes of her perfume already caressing his every sense. One single glance at her, however, was enough to shoot all efforts of appearing aloof straight to hell.

She leaned casually against the bar, clad in a sensuous, forest green number that molded to every curve of her body and ensnared every bit of his attention. Dark green leaves embellished every surface of the sinfully short dress, tapering off into delicate, curly vines along her exposed shoulders and arms. Her glossy, dark hair was hidden away beneath a cascade of long, auburn waves that made her eyes appear greener still.

“Wig,” she explained with a small laugh when Ethan continued to stare.

At last, he pried his eyes away, feeling his neck flare with heat. Unsure of what else to say, he feigned indifference as he asked, “And what are you supposed to be, Rookie?”

Aside from fucking irresistible, his idiotic, addled brain added on impulse.

He could see Lilac's jaw go slack in a way that was almost comical but somehow managed to be entirely too adorable.

“You're kidding, right? I'm Poison Ivy.”

Ethan had known that. He had been, after all, a comic-book obsessed teenager once. If someone had told him back then that he would one day witness the sexiest version of the character imaginable, his head would have caved in on itself. Adult Ethan, it seemed, was no better because his eyes fell on her once again, unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Lilac, however, was too busy looking at the dancefloor. She nodded toward her group of friends, dancing, laughing, and contributing to half of the noise in the bar.

“We were all supposed to be Batman villains but Bryce and Landry got lazy. They put on a Thing One and Thing Two shirt and called it a day.”

Ethan followed her gaze to where the young surgeon had peeled off the aforementioned shirt, relishing in the attention that decision was earning him from a gaggle of girls nearby. The other one Lilac had mentioned stood awkwardly off to the side, too pale and and gangly to ever be Lahela's counterpart.

“More like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,” he muttered.

Lilac met his eyes at once and to his delight, she laughed, the sound sending his stomach into a dive. It was already maddening enough that the sound was entirely too attractive, but Ethan felt a swelling sense of satisfaction at being the one to inspire it.

When she sobered up, her green eyes remained on his, humor melting into a pensive expression. She continued to watch him with the conviction of someone discovering a new secret. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that very moment.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He had been distracted by her full lips and by how fitting the damn costume was. Much like every weak-willed man in his comic books, Ethan would have risked absolutely everything to kiss her.

“No costume?”

“God no,” he spat, inspiring another little laugh.

“Never say never,” she told him in a sing-song voice.

“I can confidently say never.”

______________

2. A year later.

They paused outside the door to Bryce's apartment, the muffled sound of music and laughter making its way to the hall. Ethan briefly wondered if his neighbors would complain enough to derail the whole affair. It would mean he could go back to the peace and quiet of his home.

As if reading his mind, Lilac turned to face him, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. God, he loved it when she looked at him that way.

“You're not getting out of this,” she reminded him, her fingers moving to play with the orange Ascot tie she had forced him to wear.

“We're well into November. There was no need to dress up.”

As usual, Lilac rolled her eyes lovingly.

“It's hardly dressing up when all we did was put you in a white sweater you already owned, babe,” she explained for the hundredth time. Ethan tried to scowl at the pet name, but he was beginning to enjoy it. Instead, he relaxed into her touch, trying his best not to follow the lazy path her fingers made on his chest. “You wouldn't even wear a wig, so it doesn't count. As for the party being this late, it was the only night we all had off. And we'll be damned before we let a whole year pass us by without dressing up.”

She finalized that sentence with a searing kiss to his neck. His hands banded around her waist reflexively, pulling her soft body flush against his. In their time together, he had avidly learned the many ways to drive her just as crazy.

“You and I can still dress up,” he murmured darkly against her ear.

Lilac shivered, to his immense delight.

“Are you suggesting role play, Dr. Ramsey,” she returned in a poor attempt to mock him.

The formal mode of address, uttered in a low, breathy voice against his ear, made his blood buzz for her. More maddening still was the short, purple dress she wore along with the auburn wig that made a reappearance after a year.

“Got a thing for redheads?” she asked, correctly guessing the contents of his thoughts yet again.

Ethan smiled crookedly down at her. “I got a thing for you.”

The words rang with sincerity and an overwhelming sense of relief at finally being able to say them out loud, without any fear of consequences.

Lilac, for her part, looked as though she wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss him fiercely, but the erupting cheers from inside the apartment interrupted their exchange from advancing further.

“Mystery Gang in the house!” Bryce, dressed as a pirate, hollered as soon as they walked through the door. Everyone else cheered and hooted, the sounds no doubt fueled by the contents of the many red solo cups around the room.

“You guys look adorable!” Sienna commended over the music, greeting each of them with a friendly hug. “Fred and Daphne makes so much sense for you two.”

“Because we solve mysteries for a living?” Ethan asked, voice deadpan.

“Nah, because those two were a thing long before any of the others found out,” Elijah said as he joined them.

Lilac laughed out loud, the sound teetering on the edges of relief. She had been nervous, just like Ethan had been, that her friends would be awkward around them now that they knew of their relationship.

By the way they easily joked with him and included him in conversation throughout the night, their concerns had been for nothing. They even helped Lilac pressure him into dancing a modern pop song he had heard many times on the radio. Not that he needed much convincing when he would gladly do anything just to see her radiant smile directed his way.

By midnight, the party had dwindled down to drinks and board games. There was a raucous consensus to play Clue, which caused Bryce to roll his eyes.

“Of course the diagnosticians want to play the nerdiest game.”

Ethan rolled up his sleeves in preparation, which earned him a coy and borderline lustful look from Lilac. “You're just bitter that we're playing something other than beer pong, scalpel jockey.”

Elijah let out a surprised yet impressed laugh, wasting no time to high five Ethan. Even Bryce couldn't help but grin.

“Trash talk all you want, old man. I'm more than just a pretty face.”

When it came to Clue, however, Bryce had no chance against Ethan, who analyzed every player with sharp precision and correctly guessed the murderer, the room, and the weapon. Several games later, Ethan easily proved victorious while Bryce only laughed graciously, raising his palms up in defeat.

When even the board games ebbed into quiet conversation at the end of the night, Lilac sat on his lap, circling her arms around his neck. They sat like that for minutes, enjoying the nuances of being that annoyingly cute couple at a party.

“Thank you for dressing up for me,” she said as she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Even that sent his heart into a tumultuous rhythm.

“Only for you,” he murmured. “And as a one time deal only.”

______________

3. Many years later.

Ethan plastered the fur-lined hat on his head, a perfect complement to the fur-lined everything else he was currently wearing. Luckily, fall time in Boston was cold enough that the ensemble would prove to be practical as they walked the streets. He stepped into the hallway, not bothering to check his reflection. There was no doubt he looked utterly ridiculous.

But he didn't care.

He would do anything for her and for the unbridled joy in the eyes he loved so much.

Lilac was already waiting when he entered the living room, her smile impossibly wide as she glanced him over. It was the exact reaction he expected and he couldn't help but grin too.

“Is this how it's supposed to look?”

“Yes!” she all but shrieked in delight. The magenta cape of her costume fluttered behind her as she rushed to him, her body crashing against him in an overjoyed hug. “I love you so much for doing this.”

The words still sent a thrill through Ethan, as strong as the first time he heard them. Heart thundering wildly at his chest, he leaned down to kiss her, just because he could.

When they pulled apart, she watched him through half-closed eyes, her teeth catching her lush bottom lip. All Ethan wanted to do was carry her to their bed and tear off the costumes they had spent so much time perfecting. Inwardly, he marveled at how everything had changed over the years, but there were some things that remained the same.

Instead, he captured one of her plaits between his fingers. “These people we're dressed up as,” he started, gently trailing the ridges of her braid. Lilac watched him, captivated by his every word. “Do they end up together?”

She allowed a laugh. “We've watched nothing but that movie for a week straight.”

Ethan shrugged, allowing a sheepish grin. “I tune it out thirty minutes in every time.”

More laughter and Ethan decided then that he could hear the sound forever and not get enough.

“Don't let Dolores hear you say that,” she warned with one final kiss. She moved to break apart from their embrace but he stopped her.

His wife looked at him expectantly and Ethan frowned, suddenly doubtful.

“Do you think she'll like it?”

Lilac's curious expression melted into a fond smile. “She's going to love it,” she assured him, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

Not surprisingly, Lilac had been right because moments later, a delighted shriek of laughter announced the arrival of their toddler daughter. Her godmother trailed close behind, crouching over in an attempt to fix the blue tulle that trailed along the floor as the child ran towards her father. It was futile and Sienna sighed in defeat, shooting Lilac an amused look.

“It's pointless,” Sienna laughed. “There's no stopping little Lolly when she sees her father.”

Proving that point, his daughter flung herself into Ethan's arms and cried, “Dada!”

“Hello, princess,” Ethan laughed as she pressed her version of a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm Elsa,” Dolores corrected sagely.

“Yes, babe,” Lilac added with mock seriousness. “You are in the presence of Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Have some respect.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Ethan said to his daughter with such formality that the child laughed. Sienna watched the exchange with a watery smile, failing to repress a squeal.

A loud roar coming from the threshold informed them that their son had joined them. Sienna laughed as Jonah ran around the room, the antlers of his costume bobbing wildly as he moved. At last, he stopped right before Lilac, who picked him up in her arms.

“I didn't know reindeers roared,” she laughed, swaying her son in her arms.

Jonah roared again to demonstrate that reindeers could indeed roar formidably, at least when impersonated by a five year old. “I'm a Halloween reindeer,” he explained. “He roars to be spooky, but just for today.”

The adults laughed. “You're a good big brother, Jonah,” Lilac informed him with a kiss, closely followed by a tickle.

“Lolly wanted to be Elsa so bad so I wanted to help,” their son said through a giggle, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

It was for Ethan.

As Sienna ushered them together for a picture, Ethan looked at his family, everyone smiling radiantly and far more beautifully than the moon itself. Little Dolores clung to him, laughing and looking happier than he had ever seen her.

His wife caught his eye and shot him a knowing but proud smile. Ethan knew she was remembering the cynical, jaded version of himself who had confidently proclaimed he would never do this.

Ethan had never been happier to be proven wrong.

______________

A/N: I HC they name their daughter after Dolores and nickname her Lola/ Lolly

Once upon a time I used to write for another pairing who canonically dies on Halloween. You have no idea how happy I am to write for a pairing who’s alive and well lol.

Thank you so much for reading! I love these time hop fics so much. I wrote another one for Ethan x MC a long time ago that I will publish on my birthday in November :)

Finally, Chapter 10 of the Pictagram is coming soon. It might be two parts... Yikes. Thanks for waiting so patiently for it! Life has been crazy over here

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[popcorn-kitten]

AITA? i stole my crush's cat (not as bad as it sounds)

Rating: M

Warnings: crass language, unhealthy romanticization, injuries mentioned

Pairing: peter/you, peter/reader

Summary: When Peter had finally approached you, your response wasn't what he'd wanted. And then being snubbed a second time had only fueled the fire to win you over. And to do so he'd have to get a little creative. But but but - it's for love! He knows what he's doing, and it's all for you!

Read on ao3

Pets were important, Peter knew this intimately. John Wick’s response had been more than justified. If anything happened to his beloved Rat there was no telling what his reaction would be. And Peter knew how much your cat meant to you.

He’d often found himself struggling with misplaced jealousy when seeing the creature sleeping peacefully on your chest, unable to let go of the thought that it should be him in that space. He’d watched with envy as your perfect fingers stroked the cat’s fur and melted at the thought of you touching him like that

Peter knew it was silly; who gets jealous of a cat? But he couldn’t always stop the feelings, and his psychiatrist had told him all his feelings were valid, furthering the justification in his mind of what he had to do.

He’d spent the better half of the last few months becoming acquainted with your feline companion (while also looking over you, of course.) And he had to admit, he’d grown rather fond of the fuzzy thing.

Which was a change, as the first few nights Peter had tried to come into your room was borderline disastrous. The cat hissed loudly when Peter had finally slipped through your window, causing him to lose his grip and fall backward, landing hard on the ground, ass first.

Peter had been terrified it had awoken you and cautiously he peeked up. Delight filled him to see you’d merely turned in your sleep. God, you looked amazing even when just lying still and breathing. Peter had been pulled out of his stupefied staring by a deep growl coming from below the window sill on your side.

He hadn’t thought to prepare for the pet and cursed himself for the stupidity. If he was going to show you the two of you were meant to be then he had to be more thoughtful. More precise in each move he made.

Slowly Peter held his hand out to the beast for it to sniff him. The cat was still heckled and guarded as it did so, Peter screwed his eyes shut internally prepared for a bite or claws but had been pleasantly surprised when none came. He slowly opened one eye and found the cat had not only found him to not be a threat, but boring as it had trotted off and out of the room entirely.

After that first night, Peter came prepared. He’d spent a little time searching the house for the cat treats. He peered at the options trying to memorize some to bring in the future but was shocked again when something brushed against his leg. Peter bit down on his tongue to keep from yelping and looked down. Wide-eyed he saw your cat rubbing against his leg, purring, and staring intently at the treat shelf Peter had been inspecting.

Peter grinned as he took the hint and opened one of the bags, your cat mewed at him and looped between his ankles a few times. Peter smiled at the small creature and pulled out a handful of the treats. Kneeling, Peter allowed the cat to eat directly from his hand, as it purred. Peter’s heart melted at the feeling of the rough tongue against his palm. He’d never been licked by a cat before.

Peter knew that the transition of you living with him would be easier with your pet and that you’d trust him more if your cat already loved him.

And thus, every night, Peter would be sure to bring treats to keep your cat occupied and work towards ingratiating himself to it. Some nights, while holding you in your deep sleep, the cat would curl up with you both. Peter smiled at the domesticity of it and imagined this is what your lives would be like soon. Peaceful, full of love and closeness…

But things hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted them to with meeting you. You’d been repulsed by him. It hurt.

But but but-

He knew better than to give up. He was made for you. You were made for him. You needed him. He just had to help you see that.

And so, a scheme was hatched.

Your cat was easy enough to catch. It’d learned to trust him and had no issue with him picking it up. However, problems arose once the carrier was brought into the picture. The once docile animal hissed like it had the first time Peter had come by, but this time the sound was accompanied by claws, teeth, and a spine that could twist in any direction.

Peter flinched each time the cat’s defenses broke his skin but he had to keep a straight face, he had to keep going. He had to do this. For both of you.

It was by pure fluke he managed to wrangle the animal into the plastic carrier. A sigh of relief left him as the cat continued to hiss and bat at the side of its containment.

“You’ll be out soon, don’t be so scared,” Peter muttered, trying to keep his tone reassuring.

Peter slipped several treats into the slats, hoping to calm the furry thing. He was disappointed to see there was no change in the cat’s demeanor.

The next obstacle came with where to keep the cat. He knew he had to bring it to his place and try to figure out a room to put it in that it couldn’t escape. He’d have to try not to leave it alone for too long. But he also couldn’t miss out on time watching you. He was already putting you in too much danger with having to drive home and back. Peter grumbled to himself while internally trying to figure out a schedule that would work.

The thought of you being alone without him to watch out for and protect you was almost enough to make him change his mind. But the memory of your face scrunched with confusion and and and- no, he wouldn’t think about it. After this, your eyes would always be filled with love for him.

That was the thought he had to cling to as he drove for 3 hours, your cat yowling and making all manner of terrifying noises the whole trip. It didn’t help that he had to make a pitstop to get all the materials needed for the cat.

A litter box, identical to the one you owned. Food and dishes, the same brand of wet and dry. The store didn’t have your cute plates, so generic ones would have to do. A couple of toys to keep the thing occupied, and one bag of litter for the next week.

Upon his arrival home, Peter was quick to get your whimpering cat inside and hopefully quieted down. He’d hurriedly cleaned out some of the items in his recording room so the cat couldn’t ruin it. He’d seen the way it chewed your cords in the middle of the night.

Once satisfied he ran back out to his van, collecting and bringing all the needed items back into the house. He closed the door of the room and opened the carrier while hastily setting up all the things he’d bought.

Satisfied he turned and was surprised to see the cat still in the carrier, pressed as far against the back as it could be. Peter tsk’d and put a hand in to try and coax it out, only to be bit once again.

Peter shouted and pulled his now bleeding hand out, glaring at the carrier. He stuck the bleeding finger into his mouth. It wouldn’t be helpful to return your cat in bad health. Or for it to be completely traumatized and hating him. It would unravel the whole point of this!

Peter slipped out of the room so he could think clearer. His eyes scanned the area and fell on the door leading to The Shrine. Peter pulled his finger out of his mouth only to bite his cheek and he mulled it over. Yes, taking some of your things off The Shrine and putting them in the other room would help your cat. BUT that also meant things from The Shrine smelling like your cat instead of you.

He closed his eyes and imagined your face upon him bringing back your beloved animal after a week of worrying and how thankful you’d be. What you’d owe him. He’d wave you off of course ‘no-no, really I’m just glad it’s safe now.’ He smiled to himself thinking of how impressed you’d be with him. How awe-struck you'd be with how comfortable your cat was with him.

Peter huffed a final time before deciding to grab ONE shirt from The Shrine for your cat, but that was it!

The choice of which shirt, however, was harder than he’d thought it’d be. Each one smelled like you. Each one had looked so damn cute on you! Each one was special and parting was nearly impossible. Almost as impossible as ignoring the hard-on he’d achieved while sniffing your clothes again.

He couldn’t help it though.

You’d understand.

You were irresistible.

Peter let a hand trail down his chest, eyes closed, imagining it was your fingers. You were rewarding him. He’d been so good, so amazing to return your cat to you. So sweet to demand nothing in return. So...

Peter hissed as his watch alarm blared, bringing him from his fantasy and reminding him he had to leave now if he wanted to walk you home…from a distance.

Peter cursed quietly at the situation and grabbed a shirt at random, trying hard not to think about it as he quickly tossed the fabric into the room with your cat. He’d have to check on it later, he was already running late.

The next few days for you and him were agony.

Peter watched from afar, heartbroken, as you desperately searched for your cat. The first night had been the hardest. He’d arrived just in time to watch you enter your room. He smiled as you went about your usual evening post-shift. You’d come in, remove your clothes (Peter would watch with rapt attention), grab a clean set and a towel before going for a shower.

This was normally the time Peter would let himself in if he was feeling bold, but tonight he knew it wouldn’t be smart. You’d want to look in the closet after all, once you realize your beloved pet was missing.

And notice you did. Peter watched from his spot as you wandered in and out of the room, a confused look on your face (God even that was adorable). You looked under your bed, the closet – as he’d suspected, through your laundry pile, and then to the rest of your apartment. Peter stayed still and listened to your footsteps as much as he could.

But the sound was lost once you started calling out for your cat, shaking the treat bag that usually summoned them. Peter heard the worry in your voice as your calls got more frantic. He slunk along the wall and under your good for nothing roommate’s window to see if he could hear anything else. He was lucky enough to be graced with your voice asking Lucy if she’d seen your pet.

Peter flinched as he heard your worried voice explaining that you couldn’t find them. It was hard to hear you so panicked, but he knew it would be worth it in the end.

But then that whore bitch offered to go out looking with you. Peter growled and clenched his jaw in anger. He hadn’t thought of that. Of that useless drug-addled cunt getting to stay close to you, console you in the middle of the night. That should be HIM.

But but but-

He had to be patient. He knew what he was doing. You were made for him. He was made for you. You would be his.

So, Peter watched. He watched as you and Lucy searched the surrounding area and held himself back from slitting her throat when she put an arm around your shoulder as you cried. He grounded himself in that sound. In your pain that he would be ending soon. He reveled with the knowledge that as soon as you were together, he’d never have to hear you cry like that again.

Once you were finally home it took you ages to fall asleep. Peter seized his chance and curled himself around you. His hand caressed your still damp cheek where he placed a chaste kiss.

“Don’t worry, darling. Everything is going to be alright.” He whispered, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the scent deeply. Time together was short however and Peter slipped out your window before your alarm startled you awake.

Peter again watched. He saw your disgusting coworker hug you as you explained your situation. Peter growled but didn’t move. Soon though, you’d be the one wrapping your arms around him…

Peter watched you spend your break creating a flier to start hanging up during your break. He was impressed by how nicely you made it look! You were so creative! So good with your hands!

Hours later Peter followed as you went into the local Kinkos. After half an hour you came out with a stack of papers and a staple gun.

Peter scowled slightly, that was a lot of extra money for you to spend. He’d make sure to leave some extra money around for you to ‘find’ next time you did laundry as a way to make it up for you…

And so, the week went on.

-

You handed out and hung up all the fliers you’d been able to afford. TK and Lucy had been nice enough to help spread your social media posts, and even your grumpy landlord allowed you to hang up 1 (one) flier on the building’s main entrance. You’d passed out other fliers to the tenants individually too, just to be sure.

If your job had been hard before it was worse now. Your every waking thought was of your missing pet. They weren’t an outdoor cat and you couldn’t imagine how it’d be surviving. It was a little stupid and you doubted it’d be able to hold its own in a hunt let alone a fight.

God what if your cat got into an alleyway brawl? They’d be torn to pieces!

What if they’d eaten some bad plants? What if they were sick??

What if someone took them? And they would never return it to you because they’d fallen in love with it?!!

A million scenarios ran through your head, each worse than the last. You were going crazy and couldn’t focus on anything but looking for your cat. Every time your phone rang you would answer instantly hoping for good news but were continually let down.

Until the call you’d been waiting for finally came. You’d answered the phone quickly as had become your new habit and breathed a short acknowledgement to the person on the other end of the line.

The caller’s voice was shaky and hesitant, taking a moment after your greeting to speak. “H-hi, hi sorry is this uh…is this Y/N?”

The voice was deep and somewhat familiar. You frown thinking this may be someone’s number you didn’t have saved instead of news about your pet.

“I’ve seen your posters around for your missing cat?”

You instantly perk up, waiting for them to continue. The person pauses and the length of the silence almost kills you. Your response is still hopeful as you prompt them to continue with a, “Yes? You found them?”

A chuckle comes from the other end and something about it sends a shiver down your spine. “I think so, at least it looks like the picture…I was in the park when I grabbed it.” The initial hesitancy in their voice seems to dissipate more with each word. Confidence takes over in their tone. “I’m here with your cat now. Can we meet in the parking lot?”

“Yes!” You shout your response. You’d already jumped up from your spot and were quickly putting on your shoes while grabbing your wallet and keys. You were so lucky you weren't working right now! “I’m on my way! I’ll be there in five minutes! Thank you! Thank you so much!” You hang up and burst into a full-on sprint towards the park.

You cross into the parking lot and whip your head around, looking for any sign of who may have your cat. You hear a ‘Hey!’ from your left and turn quickly towards a waving figure.

A very familiar waving figure.

Another shiver ran down your spine; your emotions were in a flurry at the moment. You could see in his arms was your cat. You were relieved, excited, weepy. And yet there was a tug of apprehension as well as fear at recognizing the face of your cat’s savior.

The guy from the bench! From the flower shop! The weirdo who said he was your boyfriend before he actually asked you out.

You’re face to face before you’ve figured out your strategy and choose to focus on the matter at hand; your cat.

Your shoulders relaxed as you laid eyes on what was for sure your missing pet. They’re comfortably curled in the man’s arms and look remarkably relaxed. This is a shock as your cat, while never mean, had not cuddled with anyone but yourself...ever!

Your eyes finally meet, and he smiles at you. He’s blushing as he looks at you, and you can’t help but find it kind of cute in a weird way. You’d been put off the last time he had approached you, but there was something different now. Maybe it was how comfortable your cat looked with him, or how soft his eyes were as he stared at you.

“Oh, it’s you! I’m happy to see you again!” He beams at you for a moment before looking down at the furry bundle in his arms. “Sorry you had to worry about your cat but they seem fine!” He’s cheerful as he says this and readily hands your cat over.

You scoop your cat into your arms quickly; the small thing meows loudly and stands unsteadily on your arms to lick your face. You clutch it tightly to you, sniffling as tears started welling in your eyes. You were so happy they were ok! They seemed to be ok at least.

It was hard to pull them away but you had to do a quick once over. There were no visible marks or cuts, no matted fur, but some dirt and leaf remnants. You quickly brushed those off and went back to burying your face in the soft familiar fur while your cat continued to lick you.

It’d only been a week since your cat had gone missing but the time spent on it, the money, and the energy made it feel like it’d been months. Your cat purred loudly and pawed at you for your undivided attention.

Which is hard to deny, you pet your cat fervently while leaving kisses on its soft little head. You quietly cooed to them as they rubbed their face against you, marking you with their scent. Your tears have stopped and you can’t stop smiling, no matter how badly your cheeks hurt from it.

You don’t look up to see the man’s face. You don’t see the expression of pure adoration, the intensity with which he watches you. His cheeks flush as he imagines pulling you against him to wipe away your tears. To bring his damp fingers to his lips. To sample you at your most vulnerable. Would the tears of joy have a different taste than your tears of sorrow?

Peter had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He was losing focus and losing that could mean losing you.

When you looked up his expression had melted back into a casual smile. You thank him profusely and hold your cat with one arm while reaching for your wallet with your other hand.

His brow furrows as he watches you try to balance your cat and dig in your pockets. “What are you doing?” He asks.

You don’t look up as you respond, “Well, there was a reward and you brought them home so I have to re-”

“No, you don’t!” He all but shouts. You look up in surprise and see his face flush again as he quiets his voice. “What I mean is, you know, what kind of person would I be expecting a reward for doing the right thing?” His words trail off and he looks away as though expecting to be reprimanded.

“O-oh” Now you’re the one blushing. You’d been caught off guard with such an unexpected and intense response. You clear your throat and try to tame your warm face before muttering out, “Well, I mean I have to do something to thank you.” You insist. Your cat continues purring as you bury your fingers in their fur, suddenly feeling nervous about the response you’d get.

The tall stranger hums and closes his eyes, fingers to his chin as though in thought. “Hmm…if you really want to you could…let me take you out to lunch?” His cocky tone returns but a moment later his eyes shoot open and he lifts his hands as though to show he’s got nothing up his sleeves.

“N-not as a date or anything! But as uh…friends?” His tone’s shy again and you can’t help but find it a little endearing seeing him become so flustered. And over you of all people. His hands drop and his face looks a little defeated as he mumbles out; “I-I really do like you and I want to get to know you, but I…I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You can’t help but smile and glance up at him, your cat is making biscuits against your arm. “I don’t think letting you buy me food counts as a reward…so how about I treat you to coffee sometime?”

Your counteroffer is met with a slack-jawed face for a moment. His lips quickly turn into a wide grin however as your words seem to sink into him. “Yes! Er I mean, yeah, yeah tha-that could work.” His hand rubs the back of his neck as he looks away from you, face burning red.

You chuckle and feel yourself relax more. Maybe your initial nervousness about him was wrong. You take a step closer to get him to look at you again, it only takes a second before he’s at full attention.

“My schedule gets a little crazy. You have my number now so text me aaaand…we’ll figure something out?" Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically flirty tone and it’s rewarded with his blush spreading to his ears and neck.

He nods once and opens his mouth, as if to speak, but closes it and nods a second time. “I would like that.” He whispered, smiling dumbly.

You grin and nod, “It’s a date then.” You don’t wait for him to say anything as you turn to go. You’d been purposeful in your wording and hoped that any ill feelings he may have developed from your coldness when you’d first met had been lost.

But right now, you need to get your cat home, cleaned up, and in for a vet check ASAP. You began walking towards your place but stopped to shoot another smile at the tall stranger who waves as you walk out of eyesight.

Peter lets out a relieved sigh, a dopey smile on his face as he waits another few seconds before following behind his future spouse. He couldn’t wait to let you take him out.

[gingermintpepper]

100 million years ago, I sent an ask to @nostalgicbookworm

requesting headcanons about a High School AU and after a ridiculous amount of time, I've finally gotten around to writing some stuff for it. It's Drolxinia centric, naturally.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

"I like you."

Is what he said, the scarlet of his hair a curtain that blocked the sunset from Drole's relaxed eyes. His honey coloured eyes gleamed gold, cherubic face scrunched awkwardly as usually delicate lips frowned in earnest concentration. And, in the end, that was what tipped him over the edge. The earnesty.

Gloxinia was a creature of cold smiles and borderline cruel words, a perfect blend of wintry disposition and welcoming charisma. He was rarely straight forward, a faerie's trickster nature given human flesh and forced to abide by mortal man's nonsensical laws and Drole accepted this easily. For all his contradiction, Gloxinia was passionate and where it counted, more dependable than even the ever rising sun.

So when met with a pale face twisted in genuine effort; vulnerability and ill-fitting openness blatant in the trembling of tiny fingers which valiantly clung to the empty packet of sunflower seeds, Drole did what any surprised yet undeniably relaxed person would do.

Drole laughed.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

He knew he was wrong but Gloxinia was not an easy person to apologise to.

He made himself scarce almost immediately, jumping off the roof and sliding down the guttering to save face then presumably running all the way home. It all transpired so quickly that Drole barely understood what happened, nevermind formulating an adequate response quickly enough to de-escalate the situation. His friend was smart though, he'd chosen Friday afternoon to make his confession and each call Drole made to him that night went straight to voicemail.

It wasn't that Drole...didn't like him.

In fact, he's pretty certain that he's been in love with Gloxinia since they were in primary school and the spitfire had defended him from a group of bullies. The image of bright bright vermillion had been burned into his vision that day, the tiny child who looked so frail that the girls all whispered that he was a doll whenever he left class with his back arched and scowl fierce. He'd let out a battle cry unlike anything Drole had ever heard and leapt at the biggest bully to scratch and spit at him. Naturally, he'd been beaten as well (bare fists weren't exactly a match for chairs and sticks especially not when those fists were about as large as a first year's), but they'd ended up laughing about it in the nurse's office later.

They'd been inseparable since then, Gloxinia a whirlwind of red hair and sharp fists while Drole contentedly stood by his side. Two misfits facing the world. David and his Goliath. Drole could've died happy if things had stayed that way - he never was a being particularly fond of change. Even after they'd joined secondary school, Gloxinia had continued to be a bit of a terror in his own right, too charismatic for people to be rightfully frightened of him yet too unapproachable for him to actually make friends. Drole's appearance kept the faint of heart away but his quiet disposition meant that even the brave found him uninteresting company. Gloxinia was the only one who accepted him entirely. The only one who had never been disappointed with Drole's truths. He'd accepted that Drole wished to dance instead of fight or play sports, he'd accepted that Drole was happiest in the middle of the botanical gardens on a cloudless summer afternoon, that flowers and butterflies and other childish symbols brought him peace.

He was the only one who understood everything Drole stood for - had stood by his side resolutely through every battle and struggle and Drole had laughed at his confession.

He sighed. No matter how he thought about it, he was unequivocally in the wrong.

"You could always apologise, you know?"

An unimpressed violet eye glared past his veil of brunet locks. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd forgotten all about Diane's weekly check-in which, naturally, led to the girl squeezing her way through his perpetually open kitchen window when she found the front and back doors locked.

Drole wasn't... upset at her appearance. Diane was excellent company, one of the newer members of the school's dance team, trained in both ballet and contemporary. Her energy was infectious and she was surprisingly sharp when she wasn't pretending to be a pure maiden from one of her endless fairy tales. She'd taken one look at Drole's ragged countenance and had firmly planted herself on his couch, tea clasped in her dainty hands as she tapped the open cushion next to her in invitation.

Even though Drole hadn't any intention of divulging his troubles to another soul - he had gotten himself into this problem, he would see himself out - somehow, Diane had managed to pry almost everything out of him before he had drained even half of his warm milk.

"Gloxinia doesn't want to talk to me."

Diane hummed, her cup long drained of whatever spicy smelling drink she'd concocted in his kitchen. Her hands were busy twisting his too long hair into something presentable, part of her plan to cheer him up no doubt. "That's fair," she said eventually, voice light even as her thin eyebrows scrunched in concentration, "I wouldn't want to talk to the jerk who laughed at my confession either."

He stifled another sigh. "It was an accident-"

"Doesn't matter!"

His fingers dug into the textured cloth of his upholstered couch, anxiety returning to gnaw at his stomach lining. He'd spent all night replaying the moment in his head in-between calling and texting Gloxinia like some obsessive ex-partner. He felt plenty bad without Diane continuously reminding him that he'd messed up. "Must you continue to bring that up?"

Agile fingers stilled, the warmth of her hands almost uncomfortable against his ear. She grew quiet beside him and Drole cautioned a look in her direction, freezing as he noticed the rueful smile on her face. "Diane-?"

"Sorry," she said and her fingers suddenly double in pace as they make short work of the remnants of the plait she'd been braiding, "I don't mean to beat a dead horse or anything, it's just--I feel sorry for him." Her hands drop and she pulls them close to her chest, bowing her head in a melancholy turn of events, "I can't imagine how I'd feel if I confessed to the guy I liked and he laughed at me."

With a huff, Drole uncurled his hand from the back of the couch to pat Diane's head. It didn't take a genius to figure out where her mind was and Drole wasn't about to let her get lost in her insecurities, "Harlequin wouldn't."

The blush that spread across her face was immediate. Somehow, she grabbed a pillow and ineffectively smacked Drole's stomach with it, mood shifting drastically again, "Why would you bring King into this?! I-I'm just speaking hypothetically!"

He weathered the pillow assault with a placid expression, waiting for her to work her wayward emotions out so they could continue speaking like normal people. Eventually she calms, hugging the pillow to her chest and pouting at his relaxed nature, "Anyway, that's why you need to fix things."

Drole blinked.

She gave an exasperated sigh, "You have to give your juniors hope! Everyone at school already thinks you and Gloxinia are dating, y'know! If you let things break apart now then everyone's gonna take that as an omen."

Now that...was certainly news to him. He couldn't recall any particular instance where his peers gave the impression that they thought he was gay. Then again, given the wide berth most students gave him, Drole supposed he didn't talk to enough people for that to be a provable truth. As for Gloxinia, he'd been turning down over eager confessions from both boys and girls since form one. He'd actually managed to gain a bit of a reputation for being unattainable which--and Drole clearly remembers this particular lamentation--only proved to make him more desirable.

Drole thought it was fair though. To call Gloxinia beautiful was to understate his beauty. Everything about him from his royal attitude to the neatness of his appearance to the way his secret smiles would reveal the cutest dimples on his chin and cheeks - it was all a certain degree of perfect. Thinking about him made his chest heat up, made him ache to call him again. He wanted to run his fingers through Gloxinia's pretty hair again, wanted to laugh at his dark jokes and feel the wind on his skin as they sat for late evening picnics. He wanted Gloxinia's hands pressed against his neck as those smart fingers braided flowers into his thick hair. He just wanted Gloxinia.

"I just want to fix this," he mumbled.

Diane grew silent for a moment. Drole closed his eye, tried to lean his head against the backrest of the couch and let out a stiff exhale as his head connected with the hard wall instead.

"What about Gerheade?"

Drole frowned. Gloxinia's sister was not a force to be taken lightly. He'd tried calling her the minute he realised that Gloxinia wouldn't be picking up his calls but instead of being met with her usual sweet voice, chips of ice had whispered into his ear and had firmly warned him against trying to bother her brother again. He shook his head, not bothering to pull himself up from the wall, "She hates me now too."

Diane chuckled, "That's impossible! Gerheade's too sweet for something like that-"

He caught her eyes, voice chilled, "It's the truth."

She sighed, finally seeming to understand the depth of the hole Drole had inadvertently dug himself into, "How will you apologise then?"

A non-commital shrug met her question, listless eye stuck to the blue phone laying innocently on the coffee table. He'd bothered the both of them enough to last the weekend and he knew Gloxinia enough to understand that he'd never be able to meet him on his own turf. He'd hate to do it, but the only option left to him was to wait and pray that Gloxinia's temper would subside come next week. "We'll talk. Eventually." He furrowed his brows at how unbothered that made him sound, "Monday."

Diane frowned, "Do you think he'll be willing to talk with you by then? Gloxinia's pretty..."

Petty. Prone to holding grudges. Unreasonable.

"It'll work out."