#or not. It probably doesn't mean anything but I'll twist it to my liking

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat. logan howlett & wade wilson contains. 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n. a/n. this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff on Baywatch."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[hollow-prey]

physically I'm here listening to the Jak OSTs to drown out any outside noise, mentally I'm pulling the covers over my head, isolating myself, and trying not to overthink myself into a breakdown and/or panic attack from my own anxiety and paranoia

[tiktaalic]

s1 dean: it's not gay to suck a dick or three or ten you're just making sure you're not gay

s2 dean: getting notes from my team that sometimes it is gay to suck a dick . i would like to formally announce that i never did that. and i never would.and also i'm masc. i'm masc. i'm literally masc.

s3 dean: too busy with dying to think about being gay i'm pretty sure.

s4 dean: really enjoying that cas is unaware of social norms so that dean can oscillate between preening when he teaches him how to be a man (+1 masculinity for being more of a man than cas +1 masculinity for being so much of a man that you can teach others how to do it) and. taking advantage of the no social norms thing to rationalize his OWN behavior with cas because he knows cas isn't going to call him on it not being normal which MAKES it normal because there is no one to refute that.

s5 dean: much of the same but there are now emotional stakes in play because they Are friends he is now Emotionally attached in a real way to this man he was engaging in one way gay chicken with.

s6 dean: mfw my brother tells me to be normal so i marry a woman. ratchets him all the way back to i have never liked a man and i never will.

s7 dean: very similar emotionally to endverse dean / s14 dean in my mind. kind of in the same place as s6 dean but crucially s6 dean was sad and wet and s7 dean is walled off and apathetic. attraction to men does not factor into his worldview.

s8 dean: he literally was in a foxhole with benny and got a spraytan and had a gay thing. this man begrudgingly puts one (1) rainbow ornament on his christmas tree after sending out christmas cards of him embracing another man while their gay ass dog sits at their feet. the sticking point HERE is "cas doesn't feel stuff like that".

s9 dean: We Cannot Get Into All That but. they literallyyyyyyyyy had to make cas sleep with a woman and get banished forever to sidestep The Implications. which are. dean winchester would fuck the gay angel given the FIRST opportunity. i'd probably fuck cas but my brother is dying so idrc about that rn. etc. this is a man who is conscious of his attraction to 1) men and 2) cas and WOULD act on it given the chance.

s10 dean: this is where it gets love triangle-y with crowley and cas. this is because dean DID fuck crowley and WANTS to fuck cas. textually. this is where he stands. moc dean has sex with men and doesnt care because hes normal. POST moc dean is like. the same sex attraction was a metaphor to show that i was evil and corrupted by the mark.

s11 dean: i'll be honest. i remember fuck all about season 11.

s12 dean: his mom is around which means he will not be out. this is also. iirc? where dabb gets his grubby little showrunning hands on things. which of course. means dabbification. which of COURSE. means destiel eating plain toast and raising a baby domestically. which. of course. translates to dean using cas as a girlfriend stand in. which. imo. is reflected in dean's mindset. like s12 dean is aware that cas is the most important person in his life, and he is not interested in deviating from that formula with a woman at all.

s13 dean: gay man realizing the love of his life is dead and he never said or did anything -> gay man whose love of his life comes back so he doesnt have to grapple with the consequences of never saying anything and they can jump back into pseudo relationship.

s14 dean: this is a gay man coparenting with a gay man and telling his father that he has a family. has accepted his fate as a life long ambiguous bachelor who lives with a man and sometimes sleeps in his bed nonsexually. very much dead inside staring down the barrel of throwing himself on a grenade does not have Time to push the boundaries of his relationship.

s15 dean: too many twists and turns to get into in the stinger of a post.

[mins-fins]

119

&&. unfortunately you aren't as slick as you thought you were.

pairing: lee jeno x gn!reader

genre: fluffity fluff fluff fluff

warnings: sexual jokes, thats it 😚

word count: 1.2k

notes: jj spread the jeno bias disease i literally cant believe this 😭😭 hes so……….im abt to draft another long jeno fic + an smau + another stupid drabble and all of that fun stuff!! dont get it twisted jisung is still my ult though 😒 no ones ever replacing him, anyway this came from a prompt someone sent me, smth about "kissing someone on a ferris wheel" which i just LOVEEEED hello??? okay ik none of you care abt my words, love jeno, love nct dream, pray i get park jisung pcs 😇 good night now <33

you are going to murder na jaemin.

the moment you get off this ferris wheel your throwing up your guts all over his shirt, or punching him in his face, or strangling him to death, whatever. the moment you step off this ride you're making sure he doesn't open his eyes to see the rest of his fellow human beings ever again.

maybe if you were less awkward you'd actually be thanking him, but you take one side glance at the boy beside you and want to smash your head against the glass.

jeno doesn't notice your side glance (and thank goodness he doesn't because you probably would've died if he took so much as a glance at you), he's much too busy glancing at the view from the height your at. you assume that jeno likes ferris wheels, he probably likes them more than you do.

"are you alright?"

you mentally prepare yourself for the voice crack you know might escape your lips. just talk to him like a normal human being, y/n, yeah you're into him and shit but that doesn't mean you can be a weirdo.

"yeah" you finally respond, thank goodness the voice cracks don't come out. "just feeling a little nauseous".

jeno raises an eyebrow. "scared of heights?"

you only manage a curt nod, a nod that makes jeno scoot closer to you, his lips stretching into a smile. "it's alright, i'll protect you".

fuck you lee jeno, fuck you, fuck you, fuck yo—

your somehow able to chuckle, amused by his words. "it's not like i'm dying or anything".

jeno frowns. "so you don't want my protection?"

you pretend to think about it, pressing your lips together as your eyebrows furrow, avoiding eye contact with jeno at all costs. if you look at him, your going to fall and never get up. "i wouldn't be entirely against it".

jeno's shoulder nudges yours, nothing but a small touch that drives you crazy. you wonder if the mini breakdown your having is noticeable, if maybe, he's doing it on purpose, making your heart race to get a kick out of it.

but when you think about it further, it makes you giggle, because this is lee jeno, you could get down on one knee and propose to him yet he'd still be confused by how you feel for him.

if lee jeno knew how you felt for him really, you probably wouldn't have resisted the urge to make out with him on this fucking ride or already.

that was a strange thought, a stupid one even, but it's one manifested from your deepest desires.

when you think about it, though, you wouldn't exactly mind it.

"that's good" jeno snickers at you, eyes examining your face as if it's an interesting exhibit at an art museum. "you need me".

you feign a sigh of irritation. "of course, what would i do without you?"

"you'd die, clearly" jeno replies, tilting his head and reaching over to lace your fingers with his. the cold rings on his fingers feel like glass shards against your fingers, but his soft hands contrast his stabbing rings. "isn't this sort of romantic?"

you choke on your spit.

"romantic? roma— hah! what are you talking about? what is romantic about this?"

soooo natural, y/n.

jeno simply shrugs, suddenly very interested in the view of the carnival from the ferris wheel. "were on a ferris wheel together, stars before us, just the two of us, this would be like.. the perfect date".

you blink, the words making you pause and your head spin. is he serious? is he really serious?

"is this your way of asking me out?"

you manage to ask that without sounding like a pathetic idiot who wanted to hear those exact words, and your response gets the same reaction out of jeno, flushed cheeks with an awkward chuckle accompanying the sight. you would've thought you were a genius if you weren't as flustered as he was.

jeno is speechless, and he fumbles through his speech like someone's holding him at gunpoint or something. "i— no! no! ..maybe? kinda?"

you pause, all your former confidence suddenly withering away, the blood rushing to your cheeks in full force. you laugh, taking his words as a joke, but jeno keeps silent, and so do you.

"are you serious?"

jeno can't speak, so he just nods wordlessly.

you blink, glancing from side to side, this ferris wheel won't be on the ground soon, but at least this makes it a little more bearable. "did you just confess your feelings for me like that?"

"well to be fair—"

"i was supposed to do it first!" you yell in another fit of feigned irritation, your cheeks a color reminiscent of jeno's cherry red shirt. "that's not fair! you beat me to it!"

"well how was i supposed to know you liked me back?"

you scoff, and jeno goes silent again, embarrassed by the question he just asked.

"you're such an idiot lee jeno.."

"can i kiss you?"

the question is a blurt of pure desperation, pure honesty from the deepest corners of jeno's mind, an inquiry he's been dying to ask you ever since he found himself interested in staring at your lips.

you hope you don't faint from the scorching heat radiating off your face.

"it's romantic" he laughs, his best excuse for that random inquiry. "i've always wanted to kiss someone in a ferris wheel, unless you don't want to then—"

you (in the most cliche turn of events) cut jeno off with a kiss. though you'd love to keep your fingers intertwined, you let go of his hand to find purchase on his shoulder, then tug him closer to you with a light jerk. a small squeak emits from him, but he quickly relaxes into the kiss, giggling at your enthusiasm.

though he giggles, he isn't much better off. it's nothing but a small press of the lips, it's not intense or anything, but jeno feels his heart soar. hie face heats to overwhelming heights, and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing you against him, as if the idea of not feeling every part of you would be maddening.

you both are just as desperate as each other, there's no push, just pull. it's a playful competition, your waiting for the other to pull away, stop the kiss because they need breath, it's stubborn in an idiotic way.

but jeno loses your little battle, because he pulls away for air, as red as the sunset in the early morning.

and though you laugh at the sight, you aren't much better off yourself (if the heat continuing to permeate from your face is enough).

"was that romantic enough for you?"

even with how breathless he is, jeno still manages a stupid question.

he squeals when you land a slap on his shoulder.

and while you thought you two were slick about it, considering you were like five feet in the air with nobody to see you, your equally red faces and intertwined hands were enough to get feigned vomits from your friends.

jaemin snickers as he looks between you two, and you glare as you see him open his mouth.

"so what happened up there?"

"clearly they got it on".

upon hearing the words, you let go of jeno's hand to yell and chase after lee donghyuck, who squeals and sprints away, shouting for renjun to help him.

jaemin just sends jeno a knowing look, a look that the older pretends he isn't bothered by.

for once, one of his ploys finally worked.

[homerforsure]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

[021894s]

— 18 I wish it was easier.. [1.5k w]

MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

PAIRING: brothers bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: language, mentions of oral sex

AUTHORS NOTE: it’s looking up for y/n and sunghoon!!

your heart raced as you quietly slipped back into your room, the sound of your friends' voices drifting up from downstairs. you quickly sent a text to Sunghoon: "You go down first, I’ll leave the shower running so they don’t think anything." almost immediately, you received a simple "ok" in response. you could hear Sunghoon's footsteps as he descended the stairs to greet everyone.

"Hey guys, how was hiking?" Sunghoon's voice carried up to your ears, a mix of casualness and slight nervousness.

Saerom was the first to respond, her tone exasperated. "Horrible. I should’ve stayed home and slept."

Heeseung laughed, "Quit being dramatic! I had a great time."

Niki chimed in with a teasing grin, "Heeseung screamed like a little girl when he saw a snake."

The group burst into laughter, Heeseung trying to defend himself amidst the teasing. Saerom then asked, "Where’s Y/Nnie?"

Sunghoon, a bit nervous, rubbed the back of his neck. "I heard the shower running."

No one seemed to read too much into it. After a few more minutes, you came down the stairs, more giddy than usual, not that you were aware. "Hi guys!!" you greeted, your voice a bit too cheerful.

Sunoo gave you a skeptical look, "Ew, why are you so happy?"

"Oh, um, I just slept really good!" you replied, trying to sound natura.

you glanced over to see Jaemin and Ningning in their own little world, giggling about who knows what. unbeknownst to you , they had hit it off pretty well during their time away from you and sunghoon. not that you cared, jaemin was just a cover up anyway. you realized how messed up that sounded, but it was true.

Everyone went back to their activities. The three youngest settled on the couch to watch a movie, while the guys headed to the kitchen to start preparing lunch. saerom approached you, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into her room.

"Are you okay?" you tell her, a bit taken aback by her sudden actions

“you dirty whore!” , she blurts out

Confusion clouded your mind "You slept with him, huh?!"

heat rushed to your face, avoiding her gaze "oh my god, you did." saerom gasped, "shh, keep it down... but yes."

Her shock was palpable. "We ran into each other in the kitchen, and things just escalated."

Saerom's face twisted in disgust. "In the kitchen? y/n , they're making our lunch on that counter as we speak..."

"Well, when you put it that way..." you trail off, feeling a bit flustered.

Saerom rolls her eyes and says, "I'll be skipping lunch, thank you very much."

You can't help but roll your eyes in response. Then, Saerom speaks up again, "So, how was it?"

You reply with a small smile, "Somehow even better than the first? Which doesn't even make sense because it was so rushed."

Saerom smirks and says, "First of all, ew. Second of all, it's probably the circumstances under which it happened. I mean, the first time you guys had no prior encounters and you didn't know what to expect. This time around you knew what it felt like and it's like you've been longing for it. It makes sense."

“yeah, i guess so..” you admit then add with a sigh “i didn’t get to finish tho”

saerom dramatically gasps “he didn’t make you cum??? oh girl…”

you let out a laugh at your honesty “no i mean i was blowing him in the shower when we heard the door open” you hear another gasp “oh my god i’m never gonna look at you the same ever again”.

you and saerom snicker when she all of a sudden lets out a “so what now?”.

“in all honesty i’m not sure. we’ll have to talk it out but it’s not like there’s many places it could go, I really don’t want to hurt heeseung” you explain to her the complexity of your newfound feelings.

“well for what it’s worth you guys can talk it out with him? seung is understanding and he loves you both. who’s to say he won’t accept it?”

a sigh leaves your lips “yeah i guess so… but I don’t wanna think about that right now. I just wanna enjoy our last day before going back home”.

saerom smiles at you, getting up from the bed and side hugging you, opening the door to enter the living space once again. you’re met with everyone in pretty much the same positions as you left them but food has started to gather around the table. you didn’t realize how hungry you were until the aroma filled your nostrils. after all sunghoon did distract you from the breakfast you had made yourself earlier.

everyone takes their seats at the table, you're sitting across from sunghoon. the chatter and clinking of utensils fill the air, but all you can focus on is the subtle tension between you two. It's the kind of tension that's almost electric, the kind that nobody else seems to notice but the two of you.

sunghoon glances up from his plate, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he quickly looks away, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. you feel your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile back, even though you're trying to keep it cool.

you take a bite of your lunch, trying to act natural, but every time you look up, you catch sunghoon's gaze again. It's like a silent conversation, a dance of glances and shy smiles that only the two of you understand.

Across the table, your friends are oblivious, caught up in their own conversations. You steal another glance at Sunghoon, and this time, he holds your gaze a little longer, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something else you can't quite place. You feel a warm flush creep up your cheeks and quickly look down at your plate, hoping nobody else notices.

the moment is filled with laughter and chatter, but for you and sunghoon, it's like you're in your own little world, sharing a secret that nobody else can see.

“ningning and I are leaving early” jaemins voice cuts your little moment short. everyone turns to face the pair. heeseung is the first to speak “like.. together?”.

“well, yeah” ningning answers his question. “what about those two?” jake turns to you and sunghoon, both a little unsure of how to react to the situation. “sunghoon and I aren’t exclusive, neither are y/n and jaemin. we hit it off pretty well this morning so we’d like to see where it leads” everyone is left a little speechless and confused, not that you not sunghoon cared tho.

“aw well good luck guys” you wish them across the table, causing a confused glance from heeseung “you’re ok with this? you guys were all over each other yesterday”.

“well that was yesterday. you guys have fun!.” you answer. “sunghoon?” heeseung directs his attention to him. “i mean ningning is right we aren’t exclusive so”.

“you guys worry me” heeseung states, laughter erupting from the table. who would’ve know your little revenge scheme would end up working in their favor?

the rest of the day is spent enjoying the pool, taking in the final moments of your camping trip before having to go back to your daily routines.

The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the pool area, everyone else made their way inside, deciding to wash up and call it a night. you and sunghoon are floating lazily on inflatable loungers, the water gently rocking you back and forth. the evening air is warm, and the sky is painted with shades of pink and orange.

sunghoon turns his head to look at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "This is nice, isn't it?"

you nod, feeling completely at ease. "Yeah, it really is."

a comfortable silence falls between you, the only sounds being the gentle lapping of the water and the distant chirping of birds. after a while, sunghoon speaks up again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"tou know, I've been thinking a lot lately," he says, his eyes focused on the sky above. "About us."

you feel your heart skip a beat. "What about us?"

he hesitates for a moment before turning to face you, his expression serious but tender. "I just... I really value our time together. You mean a lot to me."

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and it makes your heart swell with emotion. "You mean a lot to me too, sunghoon."

He reaches out, his hand finding yours in the water. The touch is gentle, but it sends a wave of warmth through you. "I wish it was easier" he says softly.

You squeeze his hand, a smile spreading across your face. “me too”

the sun dips below the horizon, casting the pool in a soft twilight, you and Sunghoon float there, hand in hand. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken promise of something more.

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[hype-blue-fixation]

SFW Lee/Ler Alastor Tickle Headcannons (Because they are plaguing my mind and I will not be able to do homework until they're out.) warning that some of these might be slightly intense?? So yur :>

LER

He loves being an overly playful and extremely teasy ler. It depends on his mood and he can switch it up in a heartbeat.

His favorite teases (to give and receive) are related to power dynamics, eating someone, or metaphorically killing them.

His favorite spots to tease are ribs, bellies, necks, and spines.

Most of the time he sticks to using claws, teeth, and tongue to tickle. But occasionally he will venture to use feathers, brushes, or knives. Only if the lee is comfortable, of course.

He loves a vocal lee. Giggle, scream, choke on your own laughs. He'll eat it all up.

He notices everything. He comments on everything. Radio is audio only, after all. How will anyone know what a precious lee is doing unless he announces it?

Constantly fishes for feedback from his lee. If they express being genuinely uncomfortable or use a safe word, he will immediately back off and give them space. But he will make fun of it later (unless his lee specifically asks him not to joke about it) just to be a playful pester. "Last time I tickled you, you had to use our safe word! I'm just soooo terrible, aren't I~?"

Makes DIRECT eye contact. CONSTANTLY.

Will baby talk a lee into oblivion.

Nonchalantly says flustering things and drops t-word bombs in casual conversations.

Makes fun of people's fluster topics. "What do you mean, you can't say 'tickle'? I'll say it for you! Tickle tickle tickle~!", "Oh, you're ticklish behind the knees? That's such a nonsensical place, darling!"

Loves demanding clear sentences when he's in the middle of tickling someone senseless.

He loves breaking a bratty lee with spider soft tickles and flustery teases. It's so satisfying to see them lose control~

Cracks the dumbest jokes to make his lee laugh before he even touches their body. He calls it "tenderizing" them.

He only dishes out teases that he would also enjoy, so it's not uncommon for him to fluster himself to pieces.

LEE

Tickles a ler to provoke them to tickle back.

Purposely puts himself in vulnerable positions to invite a ler to tickle him. Such as sitting with his body twisted to leave his ribs open, or practically putting his arm/neck in their face when reaching across them.

100% a masochistic lee. He will purposely keep his arms up and twist to give his ler the best access to his tickle spots.

He is a very vocal and dramatic lee. Volume settings are loud and louder.

He will quip, tease, and provoke his ler as long as he has breath. They need to know he always gets the last word.

Loves silly jokes and other dumb things. Like if Lucifer tickled him while wearing a duck suit, man would absolutely crack up and double die before he was even touched.

His favorite "tools" are claws, teeth, tongue, and knives. Basically anything dangerous or related to eating.

The more a ler promises him something will hurt or make him fall apart, the more excited and anticipated he gets.

His favorite spots are the belly, neck, forearms, and ears. Especially really soft tickles. He will absolutely melt.

While he loves intense rough tickling, soft tickles will always be his favorite. They make him think of his Mama doing "kittytails" when he got too overstimulated as a kid. They make him extremely giggly and affectionate.

Tickling is his primary way of bonding in a relationship. If he invites/asks you to tickle him, that means he genuinely wants an emotional connection and doesn't just see you as a toy.

Honestly I will probably think of more, so consider this part 1 of God knows how many.

Also have some bratty lee headcannons here if you want them.

[spdrvyn]

i love my husband — miguel o'hara drabble

fluff. heavy inspo on this video.

sorry for the inactivity and the lazy ass title, exam week came around before i could even start on the next request and i did nothing but relax the entire break (which was only FOUR days) so i'll bring this out and see if i can clear my sched enough to actually do shit. enjoy!

the moonlit sky reflects beautifully onto the shining surface of your mug, filled to the brim of chamomile tea and flooding your nostrils with delight as your body melts into the couch.

work kept you on the edge of your seat for the entire week, it was non-stop meetings and non-stop emergency calls even outside of your working hours that had you so stressed. you were sure you'd picked enough hairs out to make a wig.

the weekend is truly a blessing, you want to stay as far away as humanly possible from your phone and shut yourself out from civilization before you come protector of debra's last minute files.

you missed the soft cotton of your pajamas, not like you haven't worn them in the past couple of days but to actually be able to appreciate what it means to wear them and the greeting of a good night's sleep had you sighing and moaning almost a little too much.

you worked hard, you definitely deserved this. you grab a spare pillow and tuck it under your head turning to the side and looking at the city that surrounded you, your patience and tenacity at the office has now been rewarded with the view you're able to appreciate.

however, the shadow that looms over the carpeted floors of your flat don't go away even after rubbing your eyes. you look up and a faint red glow in the symbol of a very familiar spider catches your eye immediately, you smile lazily through the glass.

miguel slides open the door with no hesitation, cape still drifting in the wind from what you can only assume to be his own previous working activities. you can sense the tension wafting off of him like waves especially as he stomps all the way over to where you are on the couch and looks down at you.

his mask isn't off, he's still fully geared, and all you can do is stare back into those lenses.

that is until he surrenders, body giving up, and his body flops right on top of yours. it doesn't really surprise you, there have been times where miguel has come home after a worse day of saving the multiverse and traps you in a hug before you can protest or move. though you've never really seen him do this before.

he adjusts his position, but still keeps his arms tightly wrapped around you as you move as well so that you're holding him back. his face is buried into the crook of your neck and the feeling of his nose tickling your skin tells you that he unmasked already.

not a single word leaves his mouth, you silently adore the way he's melted into you already, the way the muscles on his back rise only to slowly fall again.

you don't want to break the silence, neither of you do. right now, the only form of communication that matters is touch. your lips burning kisses into his curls, your nose now erasing whatever of your tea was left and making the way for miguel.

he shies away from your touch with a small groan, "i stink."

a giggle threatens to break out from the back of your throat, as many times as he would insist that you'd keep going anyway. "so when you do it, it's fine? i see how it is then."

miguel chuckles, he inches himself into you further. deeper. his breaths become less and less shallow, it's clear that he's taking his fair share of sniffs from you as well. "because you smell good."

"i ran a bath, that's why." one last peck to his head and you opt to just comb his hair instead, running your fingers through the strands and observing as they twist back to curl after brushing it some more.

both of you stay like that for a while, not saying anything, not doing anything, just being here. existing with each other. you always find moments like these beautiful, even when miguel is probably one work call away from shaking hands with the grim reaper.

in miguel, you've found yourself open to so many new experiences and risks you could've never imagined on your own. despite the many amount of times at the start of your relationship that he'd give you space and wouldn't be mad if you left, you kept still by his side anyway. you knew that he was worth it.

in you, miguel found that mundanity that he's never had his whole life. passing out on the sofa on his own never felt the same, most times he'd wake up still in his suit and would have to go to work right after anyway. yet with you, the stress ebbed away over time because he knew that you'd always be waiting for him.

whatever historians had with their relics, miguel had with you. not to keep them confined in a metal case, of course not, but he felt as if you were to be revered. kissed and touched with utmost respect and you'd bring the people their good fortunes and long lives. you certainly did for him and miguel might as well be immortal now.

his hands wander, fingertips delicately grazing over the skin tucked beneath your nightwear. he goes slowly, traveling up to your chest where he—

"miguel?"

his hands freeze, face going red. the guilt of possibly going too far is ready to break free from his heart and consume him until he can feel your body trembling with laughter.

"since you apparently stink so bad, shouldn't you shower first before getting so handsy?" miguel pouts at your comment, he already had the apologies locked and loaded for you.

"just a few more minutes, corazón."

[lalovi]

Could you please write a post sharing what traits you think would make the dragons in CROB fall in love with us? Thank you!

Inspired by these two asks:

https://www.tumblr.com/shmolish/750988905085632512/httpswwwtumblrcomshmolish750251834196852736

https://www.tumblr.com/shmolish/750251834196852736/so-not-sure-on-the-limit-for-characters-but-feel

CROB dragons x Reader (separate)

Warning: May be OOC, mild spoilers for the dragon story ig

``You're pulling at my heartstrings!``

Featuring: Longan, Lychee, Lotus, Ananas, Pitaya

Longan Dragon

`°♡ Longan is pretty pessimistic, I'd think. And even if you disagree with that, it's safe to say they aren't very open to new ideals.

`°♡ Therefore, I propose a sort of sun/moon relationship

`°♡ In which reader is very optimistic and open minded. Not only that, but determined as well

`°♡ Afterall, there is 0 chance of changing Longan's ideals just like that

`°♡ It will take a lot of time and effort

`°♡ Hence why it will definitely be a slow burn relationship

`°♡ Your open mindedness will cause Longan to think a lot more, and the more they think about you, the more they grow fond of you

`°♡ Now whether this fondness is just some odd curiosity or actually love is up for debate-

`°♡ Of course they don't admit this (especially if you're an ordinary cookie and not a dragon)

`°♡ But when push comes to shove, you are one of the few that can change Longan's view of the world

`°♡ Now...

`°♡ We can go the total opposite direction and probably make it work as well

`°♡ That is to say, hyper focusing on restoring the world to the way of old (or whatever Longan be yapping about) and finding yourself falling in love with them

`°♡ It's different from the normal you fell first but they fell harder, since now you're falling both first and harder

`°♡ I can almost see this being some sort of yandere relationship

`°♡ Where you're kinda obsessing over them and they find your loyalty(?) endearing and so they decide take pity on you

`°♡ I won't go into too much detail bc I'd just end up yapping forever and the whole idea is kinda messed up

`°♡ A very unhappy and unhealthy relationship where they use your devotion for their own gain

`°♡ But if you bent it and twisted it in some weird ways ig it could count

`°♡ But if you want more of that just request something and I'll get to it

Lychee Dragon

`°♡ Now where do I even begin...

`°♡ Lychee is an odd one for sure

`°♡ Always insisting that you're in love with them and will bow before them and what-not.

`°♡ Of course, they do with everyone though so it doesn't really mean anything

`°♡ Lychee wants a lot of power and stuff, and most of the time, they can get just that

`°♡ To put it in its most basic terms, I think your ability to resist their charm will catch their eye

`°♡ But of course they won't just hypnotize you

`°♡ That would be much too boring

`°♡ They want you to fall for them naturally!

`°♡ It's like a greed for what they can't have

`°♡ But now, since they can't have you, it only makes them want you even more

`°♡ They start giving you more and more of their attention in hopes of making you finnaly fall for them, and it just ends up snowballing from there

`°♡ Traits outside of... your defiance I suppose, would be your ability to be entertaining

`°♡ Although, I can also see a relationship where you act very poised or calm and Lychee enjoys annoying you

`°♡ Lychee seems to get bored quite a lot, and if you're too boring they probably won't end up working so hard for your acknowledgement in the first place

`°♡ Though, I think they'd appreciate someone else who can match their level of chaoticness a bit more

`°♡ I imaging you two flirt often to try and make the other fall more in love

`°♡ I mean, it works but none of you actually say anything

`°♡ The final nail in the coffin would probably be you suddenly confessing your love in a more serious way

`°♡ It's different from the cheap flirts and sarcastic 'I love yous`, because this confession is actually real

`°♡ Real because you didn't fall for their charms, but just because of them as a whole

`°♡ It's catches them off guard since people are rarely ever this open with them

`°♡ Especially people that they are somewhat close to

`°♡ The fact that you are so vulnerable with them makes them fall even more in love

`°♡ They blushed throughout your entire confession but when asked about it later they insisted it was just thier natural pink hues

Lotus Dragon

`°♡ Creating ideas with them seemed a lot easier in my head-

`°♡ Um, a very simple one is music and dance

`°♡ Afterall, they have a dialouge line about it being their only enjoyable pastime

`°♡ So I'd like to assume that if you create music or dance they automatically like you more

`°♡ Though, you have to be at least somewhat creative for this

`°♡ Lotus also talks about wish granting a lot and how they want an 'interesting wish'

`°♡ I don't exactly know what they mean by it, but if you have an interesting wish you'll probably catch their attention

`°♡ I just get the feeling that they are very curious

`°♡ Though I doubt you'd know much more than them, if you did know things that they didn't, they would enjoy listening to you talk about it

`°♡ Just don't be so rowdy

`°♡ They wouldn't mind it, seeing as their relations with Purple Yam and Mala Sauce are friendly, I just think they'd be more happy with someone calm

`°♡ On another random note; I don't have much to back this up, but they seem like the type of person to enjoy poetry

`°♡ So bonus points there as well

`°♡ They probably drop subtle hints that they like you here and there

`°♡ Asks you to meet them somewhere reclusive yet quaint so they can finnaly confess

Pitaya Dragon

`°♡ Certainly a handful, this one

`°♡ It's would take a lot to make Pitaya actually realize that they like you

`°♡ But once they do realize, they admit it loud and proud.

`°♡ Well, to anyone but you-

`°♡ It's kind of sad, actually

`°♡ Anyway, I can see two different ideas on the type of person they fall for

`°♡ A person who also loves to fight and is kind of just a copy of them (except you actually kick ass)

`°♡ OR a person who is more nurturing and takes care of Pitaya after all of his fights

`°♡ For the first idea, they very obviously want to spar with you a lot

`°♡ Actively seek you out just for the opertunity to fight

`°♡ And of course you happily agree

`°♡ The second idea I can imagine much easier

`°♡ Where you're always scolding them for being so reckless while patching them up

`°♡ And they can't help but cherish each of your little touches

`°♡ Might even get hurt on purpose just for the excuse of being in your presence

`°♡ Though when you tell them how much it worries you they become more careful

`°♡ I think a person like that is really important to Pitaya

`°♡ Especially since we have seen them trying to tough out their wounds instead of properly taking care of themselves (cough cough after the battle with Longan cough cough)

`°♡ A person to help ground their more... outlandish personality

`°♡ You're like their anchor

`°♡ When they finnaly stop being so stubborn and confess they make the whole thing a very big deal

`°♡ Just wants to impress you

`°♡ And of course it works

Ananas Dragon

`°♡ How do I put this...

`°♡ I feel like Ananas would like someone to protect

`°♡ Someone that they deem more important than their treasures

`°♡ So probably someone innocent I guess

`°♡ Since they care for their island so much, I think if you were a more caring and nurturing person, they'd grow a liking for you

`°♡ Would 100% spoil you

`°♡ You want something?

`°♡ Give it a day and it's yours

`°♡ I just get the feeling that Ananas is very touch starved

`°♡ Most of the dragons probably are, but Ananas especially

`°♡ So they practically fold at the most miniscule of touches

`°♡ They hate how you make them crumble

`°♡ But oh

`°♡ They can't help but love it.

`°♡ Confesses to you in the most extravagant of ways

`°♡ And their proposal is even better

[ddejavvu]

What if one Monday after a weekend of crying over her bully!Eddie, he tells her she looks like shit and like she hasn't slept in days and she can't help but tear up so he silently vows to take care of her, and he'd force her to sit on his lap and sleep during lunch and little things like that. He'd leer at anyone who so much as looked her way, he needed her to have a peaceful day. He'd call her his little crybaby and make her give him little kisses as thankyous for taking care of her but she doesn't care, it's better than him pushing her around and smacking her ass in front of anyone who happens to be around.

What Eddie didn't realise is in this constant change of behaviour, he'd conditioned her to need him whenever she's overtired or sad. She'd start calling him in the middle of the night asking for him to come over and help her sleep. He never wanted to- he wanted to tell her no, call her mean names and put her back in her place but he couldn't bring himself to let her down. Every time he would rush to her house, climb through her window and fuss/kiss her until she was so relaxed and cosy she drifted off. He was never there when she woke up but there'd always be a thanku nudey polaroid or magazine in his locker or car as a thankyou for taking care of her

-🐱, sorry if this one is a lil weird- my meds have sent my lil horny goblin brain into mushy gushy subspace, I wanna be babied by a meanie lmao

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

i'll write the second part as a part 2!! it's very cute but i couldn't fit it all in one blurb </3

cw // bully!eddie. nothing terrible, he doesn't ever hurt her or anything, he's just annoying as fuck - don't like don't read

Eddie's grip on your wrist hasn't loosened since you'd walked out of class. Typically, he pushes you around, catching you before you trip and teasing you for being so off-balance. Today, though, he drags you through the doors of the cafeteria, and your stomach drops. Is he going to humiliate you in front of the entire room? Is he going to dump milk over your head, soak your shirt so that it's stuck to your figure? Is he going to shove your face in a plate of mashed potatoes and show you off to the crowd? Is he going to force you to eat something he steps on? Is he going to-

You're sitting in his lap. He's plopped down on a bench, yanking you down by one arm so that you land on his thighs. He has you facing him, your chest pushed up against his as you stare bewilderedly at him.

"Lay down," He demands, pushing his hand against the back of your head so that your face is forced over his shoulder, "You're tired. You look like shit, honey."

Your eyes fill with tears from where you're struggling to fight his grip, and he scoffs.

"Not a bad thing, crybaby. I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. Y'look like you haven't slept for days," He lets the back of your head go, thumbing roughly at the bags under your eyes, "I won't kick you while you're down. That's not really my thing. Just take a nap, get your sleep, so I can go back to messing with you."

Without another word he's pushing again at the back of your head, and you let his words sink in while you rest on his shoulder. You shouldn't let him keep you here like this. You should insist on studying in the library, or some other place he wouldn't dare enter. But he's warm, his shirt is soft, and though the smell of weed makes your nose wrinkle, there's musk beneath it that makes your tummy twist. His hand settles on your thighs, just below the hemline of your skirt, and rubs up underneath it, brushing the globes of your ass where they meet your thighs. You shiver, tucking your face into his neck so that you can drown out the noise of the lunchroom.

He gets strange looks when you finally doze off. Jeff sends him a glance that's far from friendly, nose wrinkled in judgement, disgust, and probably a little jealousy. He makes the decision to chuck an apple slice at him instead of an entire apple, which he's sure the man appreciates. Mike takes note of this, and schools his expression to be neutral, as he avoids asking about you like the rest of them.

When the school bell rings you don't wake, instead still lightly snoring against his neck. He thinks he can feel drool there too, and he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't stiffen his cock.

"Hey," He taps at your side, one hand still flush to your ass, "Come on, honey. Time to wake up, nap's over."

Your eyes flutter open, he can feel the lashes against his skin.

"You feeling any better?" He asks as you straighten from his lap, your hands braced against his chest for stability as everyone vacates the room, on their way to their next class.

"You're looking a bit better," He muses, not waiting for an answer. He once again rubs a thumb over the bags under your eyes, but then his fingers slip down to grip your chin. He pulls your face down, ignoring the way your hands tighten in his shirt in alarm.

"Eddie, what-"

"You owe me a thank you," He speaks only centimeters away from your lips, "I didn't have to be this nice to you, y'know. I could have flipped your skirt up like I always do."

You sniffle once, nodding as much as you can while he holds your face to his.

"Well?" His eyebrows raise, "I'm waiting."

"Thank you, Eddie." You mumble, the tip of your nose brushing his own, "I appreciate it."

He scoffs, "Not what I meant," And kisses you firmly. There's no pulling back, not when his fingers are hooked around your chin and tugging you impossibly closer. He backs away after only a moment, leaning back expectantly.

"Your turn," He explains, "Say thank you, crybaby."

Your hands inch up his chest as you lean in, lips parted to capture his lower one in between them. You feel him squeeze at the fleshy curve of your ass when you do, and there's a devilish glint in his eyes when you pull away.

"That's not gonna cut it, honey." He laughs, and then he's moving back for more. You're not sure how many times he does it, relentlessly jamming his lips to yours, but you're not sure you can stand up straight when he finally gets his fill.

"It's less than I want, but it'll do." He decides, patting the bare skin of your ass, now aching from where he'd kneaded it, "You'd better get to class now, honey. Don't be late, or I won't be this nice to you again."

[jellieland]

It's just like them, thinks Martyn, miserably, To want to make these things stick.

He's always been an "act first, weasel your way out of any potential consequences later," kind of guy, so immediate, painful and permanent consequences to his recklessness strike him as unfair, unwarranted, and quite possibly a personal attack.

But, well. Here he still is anyway. What's he going to do about it?

His ankle burns where the baby zombie clawed at it. His legs ache from the dripstone, and the dripstone, and, yes, the dripstone again, and also walking off Mumbo's house and perhaps slightly misjudging his landing.

His ear keeps ringing and most of his right side stings from the creeper that decided, quite rudely, to sneak up on him and then blow up directly in his face about half a second before he could raise his shield. And the gravel later on, that he'd seen falling but still not managed to avoid, hadn't helped with any of that either.

He can feel blood dripping down his back in no less then five separate places, along with his arm, his shoulder, and the side of his head—that last one bled a lot and got onto his bandanna which was pretty annoying, actually—all from his many encounters with what he thinks were probably, at a conservative estimate, about a billion skeletons.

He doesn't quite glare up at the Secret Keeper. The healing they'd given him had been too much of a relief for that; his vision had stopped swimming, that head wound had stopped bleeding so much, and it was significantly less painful to walk. But the look he gives them is certainly glare-adjacent.

"You do know injuries aren't supposed to stick around like this, don't you?" he mutters, bitterly. "I know you like twisting stuff, but this is ridiculous. It's unnatural, is what it is!"

Someone snorts behind him.

He turns, and he sees Cleo. Neat, meticulous stitches are visible across their skin. Martyn hasn't met many people with scars before, but she's one of them.

The only new one is what looks, ironically enough, like a zombie bite on their arm, entirely healed over.

"It's really not that hard to deal with if you're just patient," she says.

"Ah," he says. "Well. That's my problem right there, then, isn't it?"

"It certainly looks like it," they say, amused. They're laughing at him again. He can't even be mad, since all in all, he totally deserves it.

"Yeah, alright," he says, a bit indignant just for the sake of what remains of his pride. "No need to rub it in! I hope you realize that if healing just worked normally, I'd be doing really well, actually."

"Hmm. Right, you do tend to throw yourself off of cliffs, and then try and work out how you'll save yourself on the way down, don't you?" She gives him a knowing look. "But look on the bright side—when you do die, you'll get to be perfectly healthy again for... I give it ten seconds. After that, you'll start making decisions."

"Hey, I'll have you know I went to the Nether for ages, and got out without a scratch on me that I didn't have when I arrived!" he retorts.

"Oh, so you can be careful, you just choose not to be?" They raise a judgemental eyebrow.

"Well... I mean." He half-shrugs, then winces. "I mean. Yeah. Yes. You know this about me."

There is a brief pause. She gives him an unreadable look, eyes catching on the blood seeping through his shirt. "...Yeah. I guess I do."

He glances over at the Secret Keeper again, bold and unmoving against the unnaturally darkened sky.

When he looks back, Cleo is still watching him. "You didn't even bandage those, did you?" they ask, with a touch of what most people would think was disdain. "Let alone stitch them up."

"I mean, no? It's not like it'll do anything, is it?" he asks, taken aback. "The good old 'Powers That Be' want us to bleed, and they want us to keep bleeding! Who am I to argue?"

She narrows her eyes as though she doesn't quite understand his point. "I'm not saying that would fix it. I don't think any of us are going to live long enough for that method of healing to work." They shrug. "Would make it hurt less, though."

Now it's his turn to narrow his eyes. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she says. "At least, so I've heard. For me, it's mostly about making sure I don't start physically falling apart, because it's really inconvenient when that does start happening."

He nods in acknowledgement. "Well, maybe I'll give it a go if I have the time." It all sounds a bit far-fetched to him. Much better to spend time working towards completing the next secret task he gets, or persuading people to give him the healing they have to spare, rather than losing hours on something that wouldn't actually help him in the long run.

(Maybe it's an echo, maybe it's just who he is, but Martyn's time is precious, and he is not giving it up for something so monotonous. Who would find that interesting?)

"Alright," they say. "If you're sure. But no one else is going to do it for you, you know."

He snorts. "Cleo," he says. "You're funny." She, of all people, should know he's already well aware of that.

"Right," they say, dryly. "Well, unless you want anything else I think I'm done here."

"Nah, not really." he says, then pauses. Frowns.

As unconvinced as he is, she really didn't have to say that to him. She deserves at least something in return.

"I will say," he says delicately, "if that advice really does help. You should probably keep it to yourself. You know. Death game, and all that."

All at once, their expression turns cold. "I think it's my business what I choose to give up, actually," she snaps.

Martyn's eyes briefly flick over to the Secret Keeper. "I mean..."

"No. I meant what I said." They cross their arms. "It's up to other people what they choose to do with it. But what I give them is up to me." She glances at the Secret Keeper, and then back to him. "No one's ever been able to tell me what I owe, or don't owe, to anyone." They smirk, and give him a piercing look. "You know this about me."

"...Yeah," he says. "I guess I do."

There is a short silence.

"Well!" He claps abruptly. "I won't keep you!"

"No, you won't," she says. "I'd best be off. This might come as a surprise, but I do actually have better things to do than hang out around Grian's creepy rock all day."

"Fair, fair." He chuckles, and raises a hand in farewell as they leave. "See you around."

Once she's out of sight, he goes back to staring at the Secret Keeper.

It's quiet.

"They're doing pretty well this time, huh?" he says. "If she keeps going like this, she probably won't get another happy ending, will she."

The air is very still, here. It's as though the place is trapped in night, even when he can see the sun in the sky.

The Secret Keeper does not answer him.

"I know you, though," he says. "You won't let it be all about being careful. That would be boring."

The thought nags at him that Cleo hasn't sounded as though they'd found any of this boring. Surely there had to be more to it than what she'd said? There had to be.

If there wasn't, then what was the point of all this pain?

He shifts, and his shoulder twinges, and he hisses quietly with frustration.

"Things already stuck," he says, unhappily. "They already stayed. I thought that was obvious."

The rock just stands there.

Judgemental. Impartial. It's impressive how it can manage to be both.

Martyn sighs heavily, and winces, and turns away. He looks towards his extremely small, entirely copied base, and a place where the sky is capable of letting in the light.

He pokes gingerly at his head wound. It's shallow, but painful.

"Maybe just this one," he mutters. "Could repurpose my bandanna. Although I guess I should probably wash it first. That would be smart." He wipes at his face. "If I don't then blood's going to start getting in my eyes. But not in a cool way, just in a way where I'll fall in a ravine by accident or something."

Nobody responds. That's ok. He hasn't exactly endeared himself to anyone, recently.

In a game that's even more about trust than usual, there's a part of him that doesn't mind being a lone wolf, as it were. At least for now. Harder to stab someone in the back if you don't let them get behind you, right?

He can make this work. He'll just have to adapt. He's good at that, usually! He just has to find the angle.

After all, he may not be patient, but he is persistent.

And he suspects being a liar will come in handy, for this one.

[slutbee]

american teenagers

Written for the Sam and Dean Mini Event by @holyfreaks

06/25/24 Prompts: Ethel Cain/LGBTQ

Inspo from American Teenager and Western Nights

Rating: M

WC: 2.8k

Part 1/4.

Summary: Dean's been sneaking out to hook up with boys lately. Sam tries not to care, but he can't ignore the knife-twisting feeling in his chest whenever Dean comes home the next morning. But why would he care? He doesn't like boys, he can't be jealous.... right?

Every night Dad said not to wait up, Dean went outside to the parking lot. "Don't wait up" really meant "I'll be out all night, probably until the afternoon too," so Dean didn't worry about getting caught sneaking out. Sam always spied on him through the rickety aluminum blinds and knew that if Dad did catch Dean, he would have another thing coming. Because Dean wasn't just out there alone.

Tonight, a boy on a motorcycle stopped at the curb. The growl of the engine made the blinds vibrate against Sam's nose a little bit. He watched as Dean hauled himself cleanly off the post he'd been leaning on, his sleek body a neat little shadow as he went to greet the boy, who had taken off his helmet.

The boy reached for Dean's neck, but Dean caught his hand and looked back, straight into the pair of eyes watching him through the crack in the blinds, and laughed. The mystery boy followed his gaze and Sam snapped his fingers out from the blinds, hiding himself. He could still hear their laughter. Then, the roar of the motorcycle. Sam peeked through the window again just in time to see them ride off, Dean's arms wrapped tightly around the mystery boy's waist.

Sam stepped away from the window. Yes, Dad would be furious if he knew Dean was sneaking out; much less to meet up with boys. And Sam wasn't naive, he knew Dean wasn't just hanging out with them. He had seen Dean kiss one, when he had been more careful about spying on him. The twist in his chest hadn't been because the action was wrong.

The room was quiet when Sam was alone. It would be nice, if he could stop thinking about what Dean was up to. Staring at the faded carpet, he pictured Dean with that rakish grin, smiling into the mouth of a boy a million times cooler than Sam was. He pictured hands sliding up Dean's shirt, discarding his clothes, gripping his hips-

Sam shook his head. Zoned out again. He really had to stop doing that. Daydreaming about his brother... in that kind of situation.

It's natural, he told himself as he kneeled beside the motel bed to pray. I'm a teenage boy, I get horny about everything. It doesn't mean anything.

Still, the wordless prayer that went up spoke multitudes of unacknowledged guilt.

God, I don't know if you're out there, but... well, you know, of course, but I should tell you anyway... I've been having feelings... well, being attracted to people I shouldn't be attracted to. Boys. I know this is part of my curse, another challenge that I just have to get over to become a better person. I'm really trying, but... if you could help. A little bit. I don't know if I can do it by myself. I can't seem to stop sinning.

Sam grabbed the edge of the bed to stand, wincing when his muscles protested from being overworked during Dad's weekend training. He had prayed every night since the first wordless prayer, admitting a little more each time.

The motel room door swung open. His stomach dropped and Sam turned, expecting to see Dad, home before Dean for once, but it was just Dean. His hair stuck up at all angles and his t-shirt and jeans were rumpled like they had been on the floor all night. There was that twist in his chest again.

"Cutting it close there," Sam said a little bitterly, turning his back on his brother again.

"Nah, I'm always golden," Dean replied cheerfully, clapping a hand down on Sam's shoulder, making him jump. "C'mon, Sammy, I'm bored. Let's go explore the woods out back."

"Bored already, huh?" Sam side eyed his brother and shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

Dean was unfazed. He winked. "You're just jealous."

"What? No I'm not," Sam protested hurriedly, a flush creeping up his neck.

"Yeah, you are." Dean rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, baby brother, when you get older I'll teach you how to pick up chicks. Or guys, if that's what you're into."

"Why would I be into guys? I'm not," Sam floundered desperately.

Dean's eyebrow went up. "Relax, I'm joking. Come on, I'm dying to see what's in these woods."

Sam took a deep breath and glanced around for his shoes. "Fine, let's go."

During their walk, Sam was silent, finding his ragged Converse far more interesting than the nature scenes around him. He couldn't enjoy it, not today. He watched his Converse stamp down the pine needles under his feet.

"Awful quiet there, Sam," Dean said after a while. "Penny for 'em."

"I'm not thinking about anything," Sam griped. His teenage angst was in full force since Dean had walked through the door practically parading the fact that he got laid.

Dean snorted. "Fine, be that way." They continued on in silence for a little while. Birds sang overhead, oblivious to the fact that they should shut up so Sam could wallow in peace.

He didn't know how Dean did it, going and getting laid (at all, but especially) with boys and still seemed to have a totally clear conscience. Of course, he had never had the same moral compass as Sam, but he didn't really need to, since he was a perfect child. John approved of everything he did (except the hooking up with boys thing, because he didn't know). But Sam? He couldn't do anything right in the eyes of his father. If Dad found out Dean liked boys, he probably wouldn't do anything too drastic, but if he found out that Sam liked boys? That would just be the icing on the cake.

Not that Sam liked boys. That wasn't something that he ever consciously admitted to himself, but sometimes it just came up like that. Whenever that happened, he shoved it back down to the darkest corner of his brain.

"Dean?" Sam said before he realized he had said it.

"Yeah?" Dean had stopped at the base of a pine tree and had his neck craned to watch two squirrels racing up the trunk. Sam's eyes fixed on the curve of his Adam's apple, muscles taut and rippling as he swallowed and laughed. Sam wanted to kiss his neck.

No! that was just because Dean was the only boy he ever interacted with. Not because he liked Dean. Dean was just the precedent for all boys their age.

Sam swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, directing his attention to the pair of squirrels on the tree trunk.

"How do you do it?" he asked vaguely, hoping Dean would get the idea of what he was asking.

Dean did not. "Do what?" he asked, turning to Sam with a quizzical expression that Sam only saw in his periphery.

The squirrels disappeared from view. Sam reluctantly brought his eyes down to meet his brother's. "Y'know. Hook up with guys."

Dean looked at a loss for words for a moment. They had never spoken about Dean's escapades outright. Dean found his footing, trying to brush it off. "You wanna know the mechanics? Well, Sammy, one guy has-"

"Stop it, Dean. You know what I mean."

Dean stared into the face of his little brother, somehow so earnest and desperate at the same time. He went through possible questions Sam could be trying to ask him.

How is he attracted to guys? How does he stomach it? How does he bear being intimate with someone other than Sam? The last one couldn't be it. Although Sam's slightly accusatory expression suggested otherwise.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Sammy," he said slowly.

Sam huffed a little-brother sigh that was more of a scoff. "Like, don't you feel... I dunno." He pushed around some pine needles at his feet. "Dirty?"

Dean was taken aback. Where was this coming from? Sam's voice sounded rife with guilt, but Dean wasn't sure if it was because of some secret inner working of Sam's mind or if it was because of the question he'd dared to ask Dean.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um. I don't, really." He took a step towards Sam. "I did a little at first, because it was a forbidden thing, but... I dunno, I like it. That kinda outweighs the feeling of it being wrong. Plus, you know how I feel about rules," he added, winking.

"How did you know?" Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes swimming with melancholy.

"Know....?"

"That you were, uh. That you like guys." Sam rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

"Well, I realized I felt the same way about them as I do chicks. Like I wanted to get their attention in the same way." Dean searched his brother's face for any sign that meant that was the right answer. He got nothing, so he continued. "Then, y'know. I just started flirting with them too, and the ones that got it, got it."

Sam looked like he wanted to say something, and Dean had a feeling he knew what it was going to be. He didn't.

"Why do you sneak around behind Dad's back? If he ever catches you...."

Dean raised his eyebrow at that. It seemed like Sam was launching into one of his little lectures, where he tried to keep Dean from doing anything fun. "Yeah, if Dad catches me, I'm gonna get the ass-whupping of a lifetime. But I gotta have fun somehow."

"Yeah, but you don't have to risk it," Sam murmured, looking down at the ground again. His fingers had made their way down from his neck to twist into his hoodie strings.

Dean was getting uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed. It was about to either turn into a fight or Sam was going to say something he wish he'd never said.

"I'll be fine, Sammy," Dean assured him, mustering a confident grin. Don't worry about me so much. You'll give yourself ulcers."

He directed Sam back the way they came, but this time he didn't touch him at all.

By the light coming through the blinds at the motel (different motel, blinds weren't broken, but Dean had turned them downwards so more sun would come in and wake them up), Sam fixed his eyes on the shape in the dark that was his brother.

Dean was stretched out on top of the blankets. The night was still hot and the AC in this motel room didn't work. A rotating fan lightly blew air over the two of them, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Which is why Dean was sleeping naked.

Sam knew it was wrong to look at his brother like this. But he had given up a while ago on shoving down the feelings that were growing towards Dean. His eyes followed the contour of Dean's back, admiring the toned muscles. He lingered on Dean's backside, which was facing him. Recently, Sam had been admiring Dean's trim hips. Sam himself had just had a growth spurt, and he knew his hands were now big enough to fit perfectly around his brother's hips.

That thought conjured up images of Dean underneath Sam, panting as Sam dug his fingers into Dean's pretty waist. Sam felt himself growing hard and he angled his hips downward to press his dick into the mattress.

Sorry, God, came the passing thought through his brain as his hand slid downwards to assist.

The next time Dean came home in the morning, Sam was waiting for him by the door and jumped him as soon as he opened it.

"Dean, we need to talk." Sam's eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed.

"Jeez, man, let me get two steps in first," Dean complained, lowering himself to the corner of the bed to get his shoes off. "What do we need to talk about so bad?"

"I have something I need to tell you. Or ask you. I dunno." Sam plopped down beside Dean on the bed.

"Shoot," Dean said, kicking his boots to the side.

"I want you to help me get laid. With a guy," Sam added hastily. "Which, I know I was against it before, but-"

"No," Dean cut him off, getting a bubbling feeling in his chest. "No way. I am not helping you with that."

Sam frowned. "Why not? That's not fair, you were getting laid when you were fifteen-"

"That's not the problem." Dean scowled at him. "You're just doing this because you want another reason to piss Dad off, don't you?" He didn't know why he said that.

"Why? Only you're allowed to do it?" Sam a little angry now. He was getting red in his ears, something Dean always thought was cute, which is not at all what he should be thinking about right now. Get it together.

"Yeah, because I'm an adult," Dean said, instantly feeling bad for pulling that card when it wasn't the real reason at all.

"Barely," Sam muttered.

"Well, I am. Legally. So I can do things."

"No you can't, Dean! Our family is different, you know Dad has the same rules for both of us. If anyone is taking risks to piss him off, it's you! You've been sneaking out to hook up with people for months in a row now and I don't see you until the mornings. When the door opens, I have no idea if it's Dad or you. I don't know why you wanna risk punishment going out and finding guys when-" he cut himself off and covered his mouth. Said too much.

Dean knew exactly what he was going to say. Still, he had to make him say it. "What, Sam?"

Sam had paled considerably. "Nothing."

"Sam."

The poor kid started shaking. Dean held out his arms. He needed his kid to know that he was still here to make it better.

Sam leaned into Dean's arms cautiously, like he was afraid it was a ruse for Dean to hurt him. Dean just rubbed his back for a little bit, but Sam didn't stop trembling. His anxiety hadn't been this bad in a while, so Dean just kept holding him. He wasn't going to press the issue anymore; he had to let Sam recover.

Sam shuddered with a shaky inhale, and Dean realized belatedly that he was crying. Damp spots seeped through his shirt. "Sammy, it's okay."

"No it's not, Dean," Sam said brokenly. "I'm messed up in the head. I'll never be normal, I'll never be good like you, I-"

Dean shushed Sam. "Gonna stop you right there. You're more good than I'll ever be. You actually care about the effects of your actions on the world around you. I'm not like that, I'm selfish. Too selfish to realize what I was doing to you."

"You're wrong, I want to do things that are so wrong, I'm so royally screwed-"

"Sam, knock it off." Dean lowered his tone seriously.

"Dean I- I want to kiss-" Sam tried.

"Boys, I know. How many times I gotta tell you ain't nothing wrong with that?"

"You." Sam corrected.

Dean blinked. "Huh?" He wondered if this was part of his dream still. Maybe he never woke up and he was still fast asleep in some other guy's bed.

Sam sniffed and a new deluge of tears fell. "It's you, Dean. Not just any guy."

"Then how come you wanted me to help you get laid?" Dean was really confused now. He didn't seem to be dreaming, but here was his little brother, telling him that he felt the same way about Dean that Dean had been feeling for years about Sam and beating himself up over it and trying to distract himself with as many hookups as possible.

"I wanted to get experience still," Sam admitted, sniffing again. At least he wasn't sobbing anymore.

The pieces were finally falling into place for Dean. Of course Sam was mad when he went out with other guys. Sam wanted Dean to mess around with him.

Dean sighed. "Sammy, we can't-"

"I know, Dean. I don't need you to tell me how fucked up I a m."

"Don't let Dad catch you with that kinda language," Dean chuckled. "Sammy, this- it's like I'm dreaming," he said lamely.

Sam sat bolt upright. "Wait. You mean-" he froze when Dean nodded. Why not? Why not admit to your baby brother you're in love with him?

"Then kiss me," Sam begged tearfully. There were those big eyes, so sad, so pleading. "Please, I need to feel it. Tell me you love me."

"I do love you, Sammy," Dean whispered, voice suddenly gone. "I do, I do."

Sam threw his arms around Dean's neck and buried his face in the side of Dean's head. A chill ran through Dean at the wet contact of his brother's tearstained face against his ear. Sam pressed ever-closer, until Dean was forced to pull him upright into his lap. Sly kid.

Sam pulled back, straddling Dean with his knees in the mattress. He met Dean's eyes, letting his hands slide to cup Dean's face, and sank down into his brother's lips.

thanks for reading! happy birthday, nep!

[shiroganeryo]

DGM 252: New perspectives and confirmations it has given us

⚠️First of all, I'll be tagging this under DGM spoilers so if you have somehow stumbled upon this even if you're avoiding spoilers for Chapter 252 (or the most recent DGM talks as a whole), this is your warning to turn back now!

And secondly, I'm under the effect of allergy meds so please pardon me if I'm talking gibberish 😂 But the latest chapter has given us some food for thought and I've been mulling it over.

There are two points I want to cover in this post; the first one being much extensive while the other is rather short.

1. Bookman Jr.

The reveal that the guy we had thought to be Past!A all along was actually the former Bookman Jr. in one of the best twists Hoshino has given us in a while - she sounded very proud of how we were all misled by her narrative and honestly I tip my hat at her for such genius - has also fueled questions about his identity.

I'll start by saying I do not believe he and Cross are the same person. That's not what I'll be talking about so I'm playing this card right off the bat. This theory, although popular, has always had way too many gaps for my liking and after the latest chapter, the chances are practically null that it's true.

If you want a discussion as to why, this post has put it into words better than I could and I agree 100% with OP's point, hence why I don't see the need to say anything on the matter.

But there's one thing that I'm yet to see people discussing and it's about the talk Lucia had with Joe back in The 222nd Night: Searching for A.W. - Hypokrisis.

(I'm showing what I believe to be the official translated English version by Viz and there's a reason why)

For a long time, people have debated about this small exchange between Lucia and Joe. There's no doubt the one they're talking about is old man Bookman, so we can confidently affirm he's the one waiting at the Campbell Mansion.

And what about Lavi? This is where the next dialogue from Lucia comes into play:

Since this is probably the version a lot of people have read, I must make it clear that the like "Junior, his successor, isn't here" was a mistranslation. Here's the original:

Lucia: Koukeisha to naru Jr. wa mou imasen. (The one who'd become his successor, Jr, is no more.)

I've double-checked with the Brazilian Portuguese translation because it tends to be as close to the original as possible, and surely enough, it's translated correctly:

(image courtesy of the volume I own by my so-so phone camera 😋)

"Junior, who was his heir, is no more."

The literal translation for what Lucia is saying is "isn't among us anymore", but that's an expression in Portuguese that means that someone has died/doesn't walk on Earth anymore.

While the mistranslated English version and the original Japanese/Brazilian version have similar meanings, the way it's worded gives the sentence a completely different meaning: in one we're led to believe Jr. isn't physically there at the Mansion, while the other two make it clear that Jr. has died.

And that's exactly why that, after Chapter 252 dropped, this scene is given a new perspective - because Lucia was referring to the former Bookman Jr, and not the current one.

We don't know the whereabouts of current Lavi - cue in the chair jokes, I unfortunately love them all - and while I might be wrong, I have my reasons to believe he's alive.

It just doesn't feel like Hoshino to kill an important character off-screen, plus she has said we'll see him again eventually and that the mystery of what's behind his eyepatch is still to be revealed (and will only happen once Bookman passes away, something that will possibly happen before the story reaches its end).

I have the feeling Lavi still has much to contribute to the story and he's actually one of the characters that, to me, seem to have the highest odds of making it alive until the end. It also isn't mere coincidence that Bookman picked the same alias for both Juniors, since Lavi has mentioned in a discussion room that the aliases refer to their record logs and the Holy War is being recorded under 'Lavi'. There's unfinished business to be taken care of.

Using the mistranslated version to illustrate was important because I've seen people wondering where Lavi is if not in the Mansion, while others were afraid he has died. He's very likely in a predicament, but dead? I don't think so.

So that only leaves us with one viable subject for that dialogue, that being the former Bookman Jr. (now affectionately dubbed Lavi Sr. by the fandom).

"But how come they didn't know Bookman already had a new apprentice back in Chapter 222 if the Zoogles mentioned it in Chapter 251?"

Yes, it's a little odd. What I can infer from this is that they either 1. Didn't know Bookman already had a new Jr. because he had been unconscious and only after they stabilized his situation they could talk, or 2. Did know about the current Lavi but believe him not to be ready to take on the mantle yet while Lavi Sr. was (but unfortunately deserted the clan).

Since only the Bookman and his appointed apprentice, who was born with the seal, can exchange information and records via their blood, it might be not that off the chart that the Zoogles weren't up-to-date on his affairs since they're not Bookmen themselves but rather a bloodline of people scattered across the globe who are supporters of Bookman's mission like Lucia has explained. Yet, even if they aren't all-knowing, it seems odd for them not to know something as vital as that about the person they're supporting.

And of course, there's also the possibility of option 3, something else that I completely failed to consider right now. Time will tell which one.

Note: By the way, the Lucia in 222 and the Lucia in 251/252 are indeed the same person; Hoshino seemed to hint there's a reason behind her sudden aging that we don't know yet. It's important to make this clear since what I've said is related to dialogues delivered by her.

2. Past!A = current Allen

(image courtesy of Kougeki Scans' Chapter 251's translation)

There were theories around and people still considering the possibility of our current Allen being a clone and all sorts of theories because of the unexplainable age gap between him and Past!A, but it seems the deaging theory has been fully confirmed by Chapter 252, as we saw it taking place before our very eyes.

There are still some mysteries surrounding it, but seeing how Apocryphos mentioned the "Helix", we can't help but be taken back to the explanation we've previously seen about the Helix of Life (The 221st Night - The Clown's Joke).

Since that's a topic that feels like there's more to it as of now, I won't be discussing the how and why Allen deaged, especially with the unseen variable in the mix that is Innocence; who knows if that might make the Helix energy behave differently.

I was on the "deaging theory" train because Nea was able to recognize Past!A all right when he looks in the mirror (The 214th Night: Searching for A.W. - Awakening) and also questioned the presence of Innocence on his body as well as how he hadn't aged but instead had gotten younger (The 215th Night: Searching for A.W. - By Your Side).

There are many mistranslations in the official English version of these two chapters (214 and 215) that have fueled countless misconceptions within the fandom but I won't be pointing those out in this post since I'm not here this time specifically to talk about it.

Note: Mangadex seems to have nicely translated versions of these chapters if you want to check them out for a recalling - I can't confirm fully but what I read of them looked consistent and faithful to the original.

Anyways, back on track; now that we've seen what took place 35 years ago in Chapter 252, Nea's bewilderment at the current situation of Allen back in Chapter 214/215 makes a lot more sense.

And even more interesting is that as soon as he noticed the Innocence lodged into Allen's left hand, we see the image of Apocryphos, as if Nea could feel its presence. Turned out that meant more than just Apocryphos being able to resonate with all Innocence, but rather, that the very reason why that Innocence had found home in Allen's body was by its intervention.

Just what the hell, dude. That was, once again, extremely well-played on Hoshino's part. I'm really looking forward to the next chapter!

[thegoldencontracts]

I genuinely never have a clue what to ask for anything because my brain blanks out when i get into the ask box

Uhm, i really liked the tsundere twist idea you were talking about in that one post. It's very fun and silly. I'm also intrigued by how Kalim would be written in this, how the most vocally hype one would get relatively quiet and not as open with his crush. Azul feels like he fits in really seemingly tbh though i think that goes with majority of em lol (NRC isn't really good at being genuine haha)

It just seems so fun and cute but also strangely fitting 😆

Tyyy for the request! Yeah, Kalim's approach in a tsundere! Au is definitely the most interesting to explore!

Love?

Summary: Kalim doesn't really know why you make him feel this way. It's probably nothing... Right?

Notes: Tsundere!Kalim is fun precisely because of the careful balance with his character imo

Kalim had to admit, the way he talked to you was- different, to say the least, from the way he talked to others. It wasn't a big deal though, really! He was just- a bit awkward with you, because you had no magic, and it felt weird.

Kalim really wasn't the best person to like someone. He'd be a terrible boyfriend anyways, after all, there was a reason everyone back home secretly hated him, even most of his siblings, even Jamil-

Hahaha. Wow, Kalim was really great at making humor out of hyperboles! Weren't those two big words? Jamil would be so shocked to see him use them!

Too bad Jamil wasn't here right now. Just you. You, looking at him in shock as he handed you that trinket you'd been eyeing for a while now.

"Kalim," you said, eyes widened in shock. "This is-"

Stupid. That was what you were about to say, right? Kalim was wasting his time, giving a stupid gift no one cared about. He was probably being so overbearing right now.

"Ah, sorry!" He said. "I just give these gifts to most people, you know? Sorry if you minded, I didn't mean to make it seem like I liked you or anything weird like that!"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"You sure?" You asked. He hastily nodded.

"Yep!" He said. Your brows furrowed.

"I- thought this was part of that one courting ritual-"

"O-Oh, jeez, silly me!" He said. "I forget about that stuff all the time, you know? I have no clue how Jamil deals with having to remind me!"

He really didn't.

"Alright then," you said, looking two seconds away from bursting into giggles. Did Kalim say something stupid he hadn't realized he said? Oops.

"U-Uh, bye then!" He said. "I'll see you later, friend- acquaintance l- Prefect!"

Jeez, he really was bad at this whole 'love' thing, wasn't he?

[fleurywiththesave]

Would you write mattdrai wishbaby that appears the day after panthers win the cup?

Funnily enough, someone once asked me if I would ever write a wishbaby fic and I said "nah, probably not", but inspiration struck when I read this prompt. It's my first attempt at the trope, so I hope you like it!

Matthew stumbles into the kitchen at...well, he's not actually sure what time it is. He knows the guys started to make their way from the arena to his house in the early hours of the morning, and he thinks he's been asleep for an hour at most. It probably would've made more sense to just power through until after whatever hijinks they're going to get up to today — his eyes feel gritty as hell — but it's too late to change that now. He just needs some coffee. And he won't be the only one.

The Cup is sitting on his kitchen counter, where he kind of wishes it could stay forever. He reaches out to give it a pat on his way to the coffee maker and freezes in his tracks.

There's a baby.

In the Cup.

There's a baby in the Cup.

His teammates might be a little irresponsible at times, but there's no way any of them just...forgot their baby in the Cup. Which can only mean one thing.

Matthew's hand is shaking as he reaches out to pick up the scroll of paper resting on top of the baby (who's still asleep, thank god). Yeah, a lot of the guys are conked out around his house, but it's still his house, which means this isn't going to be for anybody but him.

The paper looks exactly like the pictures they showed in 10th grade health class. A blank line at the top to fill in the name, basic stats, and, in flowery script, the parents' names.

Matthew Tkachuk

and

Leon Draisaitl

Matthew sits down hard on a bar stool.

He was going to wait to call Leon. Give him a few days, at least. Or better yet, wait for Leon to want to call him. They'd both agreed that no matter what happened, they would need to take a little space in the immediate aftermath, but that doesn't seem to be an option anymore. Matthew closes his eyes when he hits the call button, like that's going to make this any better.

"Matty....." Leon's voice is both frustrated and apologetic when he answers, but Matthew doesn't give him a chance to get anything else out.

"There's a baby in the Cup."

"There's—"

"We brought it back to my place and I just came downstairs to make coffee and there is a baby in the Stanley Cup."

There's a long pause from the other side of the line, long enough that Matthew starts to feel sick for reasons that have nothing to do with the enormous amount of alcohol he consumed last night. And this morning.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Leon says, and Matthew allows himself a little sigh of relief.

He doesn't want to wake the baby before Leon gets there, but he also doesn't want any of his teammate to unwittingly walk into the shitshow that might be coming, so he just...takes the whole Cup to his room and texts Leon to come up as soon as he gets to the house. Which turns out to be only fifteen minutes later, so Matthew loses five whole minutes of internal pep talk time. Leon barges right in and then freezes, just like Matthew did, staring at the baby in the Cup.

"What is it?" he whispers.

"A girl," Matthew says, handing him the certificate.

"A girl," Leon repeats as he walks closer. "You didn't wake her up yet?"

"I didn't think I should do it without you," Matthew answers. "Even if, you know."

Leon turns to him and frowns.

"Even if what?"

"You know," Matthew says again, feeling horribly wrong-footed. "Even if you don't, like, want to do this."

Now Leon is staring at him. Matthew trips over his own words trying to explain more, not wanting to hear whatever Leon is about to say.

"I don't remember wishing, but I guess I did, but that doesn't mean you need to be responsible for anything. I can figure it out. My mom will help, probably. And my dad. Or Bobby, he'll know what to do."

"Wait, did you—did you think I was going to be upset?" Leon asks. Matthew twists his hands together, a nervous tic that Leon has seen far more times than anyone else in his life.

"We haven't really talked about kids," he says, "and I didn't want to call you like this, after...after. I wanted to give you your space like we agreed."

Leon is still staring at him blankly, but before Matthew can get nauseous again, he breaks into a ridiculous, brilliant grin.

"Matthew, you idiot," he says, crossing the room to grip Matthew's face between his hands and kiss him hard.

"Um," Matthew says articulately when he pulls away.

"What's the first thing they teach about wishbabies?" Leon asks. He looks fondly exasperated.

"That...that both parents have to want it," he answers.

"You may not remember wishing," Leon tells him, "but I do."

That stops Matthew in his tracks.

"You do?"

Leon runs a hand through his hair and smiles, soft and sweet this time.

"Obviously I was upset after the game, but I realized that I wasn't just upset because we lost. I was sad that it felt like I couldn't really share it with you, and I wanted to. I wanted to watch you lift the cup, and celebrate with you, and tell you how proud I am of you. So that got me thinking about all the other things I want us to share, and, well. You know the rest. Apparently we're in sync even when we're not talking."

Matthew feels like he just got off a carousel that was moving at twenty times its usual speed.

"So you're not mad?" he asks, needing to be sure.

"Are you mad?" Leon responds.

"No," he says immediately. "No, I—it's amazing."

Leon kisses him again.

"Yeah, it is. Can we wake her up now?"

Carefully, carefully, Matthew picks her up and hands her to Leon. His eyes are a storm of emotions as she squirms and blinks awake.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispers, voice full of wonder while he gazes at the baby. Their baby. Their daughter. "I'm your papa." Matthew presses into his side and gently strokes her cheek.

"What should we name her?"

"My grandmother's name was Adelaide," Leon says.

"Adelaide," Matthew repeats. "Addie."

"Adelaide Draisaitl-Tkachuk."

"Oh my god, she never had a chance," Matthew says. "She's going to change her last name to Smith as soon as she's old enough."

"Nah," Leon says. He's still smiling. And his eyes are wet. "She'll learn to love it." He puts her in Matthew's arms.

"Hi, Addie," Matthew says. His face is feeling suspiciously wet too. "Welcome to the world."