#the rest of these tags are all just going to be complaints so keep scrolling if you dont gaf

[yo9urt]

today i return to the sea

[imminent-danger-came]

drop a bitterbomb about lmk or the fandom, just go ham. i am here for that mk rant

Hmmm I don't think I have a complaint about lmk itself! (Except maybe the fat clone joke, but I have my man Pigsy so it evens out for me). I really love this show with my whole heart, and though I can be bitter about some things (toh, shera, recently nimona) I do try to give things the benefit of the doubt if I can tell there's real heart and thought behind something. And lmk? So much thought goes into this show, you can feel how talented these writers are!

As for the fandom. *Ahem* *Gets on top of my soap box.* This is a lot of power you've given me.

Like I said in my tags, MK is so often relegated to the role of "therapist" it's shocking. I think a lot of folk view MK and Steven (from Steven Universe) as the same character, and while there's fun similarities, MK is very different from Steven. Steven is definitely the group therapist and ends up having to be the most emotionally mature of all the crystal gems, struggling to keep everyone above water. MK on the other hand has to rely an incredible amount on everyone around him, rarely being the one to actually give comfort himself. MK just also isn't really a character with a "I can fix them" mentality. He's not going out of his way to redeem anyone, except the person in front of him who he thinks can help save his friends/the universe.

Maybe this is a bold take, but I view MK as someone who would choose his friends over the world (he also literally does so in 4x02). He is not a selfless world-first kind of hero, which makes his guilt over getting the world in trouble all the more delightful to watch.

So, it's always surprising to me when I see MK being the one to comfort other characters (namely Red Son and Macaque), when Mei is LITERALLY right there. Our hopepunk shonen protag girly. She's the one to usually do the comforting (along with the rest of the gang), but I think in general a lot of people sleep on Mei.

Which brings me to my second rant: another thing that's kind of disappointing/annoying about the fandom is how pretty much Sun Wukong and Macaque are the only two characters, with MK as a third to promote some kind of interaction between the other two. Sometimes I play a game with myself of seeing how far I can scroll the lmk tag before I see a post about only Sandy.

Which, lmk has such a wonderful cast of characters, it's kind of sad seeing fan content only about Wukong and Macaque—now don't get me wrong, I also love those monkeys, but there's also a lot more characters to explore! Mei is one of my favorite characters, and I think Tang has one of my favorite arcs in the show (3x08 is such a good episode. I am also a big fan of 4x03).

And, god. For all the fan content about Wukong and Macaque those two definitely get the brunt of the blorbofication.

In canon? They're very flawed and fucked up immortals who have hurt themselves and others. But in the fandom? UWU Precious sad boys who blush. It's kind of maddening. Originally I had a lot of people mad at me in my notes for thinking sweet boy Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time/involved in MK's creation. Like. I legitimately can not believe there was discourse on twitter about Wukong being a "deadbeat dad". Have you seen this man. Hello. He's an asshole, but he's our asshole, and he tries.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Noise Complaint

Stiles Stilinski Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Navigation

Summary: Keeping multiple hormone enraged students in a motel for a night wasn’t going to end well for anyone, except them

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader, mentioned Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Warnings: 18+ minors dni if you do then I take no responsibility, smut, strip tease, protected sex, vaginal penetration, and a noise complaint

The motel room was exactly what you had expected, shabby rather than chic, and despite the low expectations that you had initially had, you couldn't help but pout; a part of you was more lenient to sleep on the school bus instead of these already combusted mattresses that were dressed in the most hideous sheets that you had ever laid your eyes on. But you supposed that this was the punishment that you had earned yourself by tagging along with Lydia and Allison; it hadn't quite been a fool proof plan, more so considering that it hadn't taken Stiles long to realise that you three were in the vehicle behind them. The room that you had been given the key to was a single, and it haunted and disgusted you as he said that you were to be sleeping in this horror setting alone; no Stiles he had meant.

It wasn't justified fairness, you'd even argue that it commended against your human rights. But old Bobby enjoyed to make everyone suffer, and that was the type of pain that you were undergoing as you dealt with the separation that - hold that thought, a notification sprang from the speaker of your phone, and as you read the iMessage that bombarded your lock screen, excitement coursed through your veins. Open up, it said, and giddily you hurried to the door, instantly obliging to what the message had said. On the other side stood Stiles who didn't waste a moment before he pushed the both of you back into the room, being quick to ensure that nobody saw the both of you blatantly disobeying the rules. To be honest you didn't know what Finstock had expected, bringing well over a handful of hormonal teenagers to stay at a dingy motel overnight couldn't possibly respect the restrictions of chastity; nobody was going to listen, including Stiles and yourself.

"Let me guess, you couldn't sleep?" You crawled onto the bed after your boyfriend who had gone up the length of the mattress to rest his head upon the flat pillows that had been provided, weaving yourself beneath his arm and dancing your fingers across his chest. "You're still worried about Scott, aren't you?" The scratch that the alpha had left on him was nasty, and went further than surface deep. His worry towards his best friend was understandable, you were concerned too. Stiles hummed in reply, combing his long fingers through your hair, his body shifting as he found it quire difficult to go on considering everything that was going on.

"He's gone to see Allison now." Stiles revealed, it was no doubt that if Scott had remained in their room that he'd have stayed too. They weren't just best friends, they were brothers and that bond would always be his first priority, you had never met anybody as loyal as Stiles Stilinski. "But I could use a distraction from all the sacrifices and alphas and whatever else is going to happen." He rambled, his hands tossing about a little as he spoke, and you found the action rather adorable, he was always very expressive as he spoke, in fact the two of you had met first day of freshman year by him whipping you around the face with his flying hands, and it had been rather hard to forget him since you had a black eye for the rest of the week.

"I've got the perfect thing in mind." You informed him, coercing him to grumble as you got up, searching for your phone and scrolling on it until you came across the playlist that you had created for a moment like this. 'Hands to myself' began to play, perking Stiles up as he watched you stand by the end of the bed, dragging your own hands up your body, prompting him to lick his lips that were feeling rather dry. He sat upright as you slowly peeled the shirt up to reveal your bare skin until you were dressed in nothing more than your bra and shorts and walking closer to Stiles. The music was quite loud, drowning out any sounds of Stiles' laboured breaths that he was trying to control, it made you feel strong seeing the affect that you had upon him, and only served to encourage you more to act more deviously. Your thumbs tucked into the elastic band of your shorts, toying with them, the sight alone had the poor yet lucky boy before you feel lightheaded.

The first time that you had actually performed a strip tease for Stiles, he had literally fainted; looking back on that time was quite funny, more so since you had been sworn to secrecy by the victim himself when he groggily came back to consciousness. But it had become the faintest memory in Stiles' head as your shorts piled around your feet, he couldn't help but lean forwards, his eyes delicately tracing the sultry edges of your underwear. Drool began to seep out from the corner of his mouth whence you played with the frills that decorated your panties, hips still swaying as your hand that was not dancing along the front of your left thigh was swimming in your hair as your tongue deliciously ran across your teeth.

"You're so hot." Stiles murmured, his leg began to jitter against the ground as his body endured the rush of desire. "Come here baby, need you." Sweetly you tip toed over to him and placed your hands onto his shoulders, taking a seat of placement upon his aroused lap, feeling his hard cock through the layers of material which separated each of the parts of your bodies that hungered to unite in a rouse of passion. The music faded away from your sense whilst his eyes ravenously scaled up your bare torso, his hands were starved as they refused to miss an opportunity to touch any skin on your body that they possibly could - no doubt he was struggling to keep his hands to himself.

You didn't mind in the slightest as you fiddled with the straps on your loose shoulders, reaching behind you Stiles disconnected the clasps on the back of your bra, to which obeyed his command by dropping the garment between your bodies, only serving to build misdemeanour tension within the room. Both of your hands ravelled in his dark locks that he had allowed to grow out not so long ago as he threw your bra to the floor, raising his large and desirable palms to cup both your breasts, becoming vastly more turned on by feeling the natural weight in his grip. Leaning down, you hungrily joined your lips in a sloppily paced kiss which remained elongated in time for a while, your bodies rutting in unison to build up pressure to which was called pleasure. Thank god for Scott for not being over Allison, otherwise this event would never have fitted the occasion!

Soon the rest of your and his clothes were scattered around the room like an image from a spot the difference game, though if it were a then it'd have definitely have been R-rated as the pair of you were completely in the nude, Stiles now atop of you and teasing his cock head upon your sweet clit. He ran his tip up and down your slit, collecting wetness, the notion alone causing you to drop your head back into the pillow supporting you as your eyes deliriously fluttered closed. But they fixated open no more than a minute later as a disastrous thought bombarded your mind, leading you to tightly grip your boyfriend’s forearms and dig your nails a little into his flesh, all to refrain him from going further for a moment. “Do you have a condom?” He blinked multiple times before springing into action.

Despite it resulting in you and him groaning simultaneously, he stir up so that he could rummage through his belongings until he found one. Once he did he wasted no more time and instead put the contraceptive method onto his length and resumed his previous position. Your legs twitched and coiled around him as he began to push into your walls, his right hand roughly grabbing the back of your thigh to bring some pain upon your body to mix with the exonerating pleasure that shuttled through it. The collaboration of your bodies was heaven with the bitterness of hell that raked through them via the bruising grip below your ass, the passion transcended into the clouds from aggressive and hungry flames, creating a breathless hue to burn beneath your flesh. Each breath that pardoned out from Stiles' panting lips scorned your skin, he was desperate for release and was feeling close, his quickening thrusts only made the endurance of your orgasm slacken as everything around you felt as though it was crashing down.

There was a storm within the room, the lightning struck above both of you in the form of a bulb with faulty wire as the thunder resonated in pounding, which you could not register as such, against the door to the motel room. The music that you had earlier put on acted as a soundtrack to the scene, and your sounds of ecstasy dwindled down into as you reached the climax to the intimate story that you had shared with Stiles. "Stilinski! Y/l/n! Open up but only if you're decent." The level of the music was still loud and therefore you hoped that the lyrics of Ariana Grande and other artists that had recently performed on your playlist had masked your moans of synchronised pleasure but you knew that that specific hope was far too good to be true.

And so you and Stiles scrambled to cover yourselves and answer the door as Finstock began to rampantly knock again. He was like a flu that you couldn't get rid of, and it was no surprise to when you eventually opened up the door it looked as though he had caught a fever. It was a blessing to his ears that the variety of sounds had ceased including those that had exhumed from your phone that was now somewhere on the floor. "The two of you are one of the reasons that I drink." Bobby defeatedly spoke, waving his finger like a madman to which it was already believable prior that he was one. You cocked your head waiting for him to scold the of you more however Stiles had already beaten him to it, silencing him with his natural wit in the moment. "In my defence I am only here because I felt lonely, nobody else is in my room." He practically dubbed Scott in the trouble, but you also knew that Stiles had the intention of having someone check up on his best friend and so he was using Bobby as the surrogate to do so.

Coach's face crinkled, this was more work than he was cut out for, and he wasn't enjoying a moment of it. At least he didn't have to worry about Greenberg as he strongly doubted that he had the moved to get into such a compromising position with any other example of the human species, he'd just be yelled at because he was annoying and an absolute kiss ass all whilst being terrible at lacrosse. "Wait, where is McCall?" He was slowly putting the pieces together... if there was another noise complaint then he'd be at fault since he was the adult, and so he rushed off in hopes of not having to succumb to responsibility. The opportunity arose to shut the door and so you took it, and Stiles dropped his head in relief as he hurriedly began to remove his jeans again. "Oh thank god." He sighed when he dropped them and you laughed when you realised that it was not his intent to continue what you were doing beforehand but instead the condom the condom that he had forgone and forgotten to remove in the rush of things.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

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[chloe-the-ice-queen]

This Doesn’t Mean We’re Friends - Ch. 1

Okay, first chapter down, a ton more to go, I hope you like it! Lmk what you think! and always tell me if there’s anything I can improve or change to make the story or my writing better!!

Previous | Here | Next Chapter

Chloe was shocked at how easily these people, her classmates, had believed Lila's lies. Even Alya, who was supposedly baker girl's bff, and a reporter for that matter. But one by one, Chloe had watched as her classmates had been drawn into the easily fact checked web of lies. The only ones who seemed to know any different were Chloe herself, Adrien and Dupain-Cheng. 

She had never particularly liked the girl, but she was aghast at how easily the other girl's friends had cast her aside, and honestly felt sorry for her. She was even blown away at how even after everything, Dupain-Cheng had stood up to the liar.

Adrien, on the other hand, she was not impressed with. She didn’t even realize that he knew better than to believe Rossi until she had tried to get him to dump Lila when they started dating. He had said something about keeping Lila happy so she didn’t try to take it out on others or become akumatized. Even though they had been friends for years - Adrien being one of the only people who she had ever genuinely liked, and that had genuinely liked her - she had lost almost all of her respect for him in the two minutes it took for him to explain what he had been telling Dupain-Cheng.

Really, that whole high road crap was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. She wasn’t quite sure how the baker girl hadn’t snapped yet. That’s probably why she had spoken up when Lila and Alya were taunting the bluenette one morning.

----

Chloe arrived to class early, as usual. The only other people there were Max and Nathaniel. Soon, the rest of the class began to trickle in. When Lila and Adrien walked in the door, everyone but Marinette was present, talking amongst themselves or catching up on schoolwork or snacking before class started.

Once Rossi entered, however, all eyes were on her, looking to the girl to begin their day with more absurd stories of her exciting travels. Chloe stopped listening and ended up pulling her phone out and scrolling through social media. When Dupain-Cheng walked through the door, however, she silently tuned back in, waiting to hear what Lila or Alya might say to the girl now that she was here.

After finding out what Adrien had been telling the girl for the last two months, she realized that she was just as bad as he was if she was letting Lila bully the baker girl without support. But she didn't know what to do about it. She doubted Dupain-Cheng would just accept her as an ally after everything Chloe had done to her, even as forgiving as she was.

Currently, though, the class was talking about that miserable gala her parents were hosting in a few weeks. She had to go and entertain ridiculous people all night, and she was not looking forward to it. Especially now that Adrien stupidly let Lila tag along with him. "I bet Marinette wishes she could be as good as you Lila and go to the gala." Alya smirked. That girl was really getting on Chloe's nerves lately.

When she looked over at Dupain-Cheng, she saw that the girl looked both resentful at Alya, but also maybe a little jealous of Lila? Of course, Chloe thought. She was an aspiring designer, of course she'd want to go to the gala. If only she realized how boring and formal it is.

Chloe desperately wished that she wasn't just going to be talking to her parents' friends out of politeness or chatting up potential business partners out of duty. "Do you want to go to the gala with me, Marinette?" She said loudly enough for the whole class to hear. She had only half thought through her plan, but she knew she wanted the whole class to know about it. She did feel bad about putting Dupain-Cheng on the spot like that, but she was pretty sure she'd say yes anyways. She caught the designer's stunned expression and winked at her, trying to clue her into her intention.

It sufficed, seeing as the girl smiled deviously and said, "I would be honored miss Bourgeois."

----

Lila looked like she was about to explode, Adrien looked worried, and Chloe looked pleased with herself for putting those expressions on their faces. The rest of the class was a mix of indignation and anger. "She shouldn't get to go, she's a bully-"  "Of course, the two brats are going together, it's like they were made to be friends."  "She can't just invite her like that, she doesn't own all of Paris."  "Why does she get to go? It's so hard to get in!" The chorus of complaints was stifled by Chloe. 

"I do just get to invite her if I want, because my parents are hosting it, and it's being thrown at the Grand Paris. And since I was going, and I needed a plus one, my mom will be thrilled that her favorite young designer will be in attendance."

The class looked at her in shock, annoyance, and anger. The designer looked... grateful? But also a little surprised. Chloe couldn't blame her for that, but right as Dupain-Cheng opened her mouth to speak, Ms. Boustier walked in and began class. 

----

Marinette ran to catch up with Chloe after class. She stood next to Chloe at their lockers, which had been next to each other’s all year. At the start of the year, Marinette thought that it had been payback for some terrible thing she had done in her past life that she had ended up next to Chloe, but now, she thought that it just might turn out to be convenient.

"I-" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She decided to go for sweet and simple. "Thank you."

Chloe scoffed. "I didn't do it for you, my mom wanted to invite you anyways, and I wasn't going with anyone." Marinette might have been hallucinating but she thought she might have caught the faintest glimpse of a smile on Chloe's face.

"But that doesn't mean you needed to invite me. So thank you."

"This doesn't mean we're friends. I just wanted to see Rossi's face when I said you were going." Chloe snapped her locker shut and walked away briskly, leaving Marinette to smile to herself.

Next

@agentofscifi

[jayeray-twst]

How He Shows You Affection: Cater Diamond

Warnings: None all fluff!

He Takes Pictures of You

“Say strawberry!” Cater ordered with a toothy grin, as he snagged you around the waist and pulled you close, pressing your cheeks together with his arm extended out, holding his phone.

Several months of dating meant you were now quick enough on the draw to smile at the camera for the first snap of the shutter and were even quicker to turn your face to the side, pressing an affectionate kiss to your boyfriend’s cheek before he managed to hit the button again.

“Babe!” he whined a playful lilt to his voice that probably would’ve fooled most, but you saw right through it to the faint blush on his cheeks and the warm look in his eyes.

Cater always got a little flustered when you did little things like that to catch him off guard, which was only fair in your opinion considering how much he did it to you. Your boyfriend had enjoyed flustering you, and gone out of his way to tease, and flirt just to see if he could.

“Let me see?” you asked, making grabby hands at his phone. He immediately passed it over without complaint, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your shoulder so he could see the screen too as you looked at the photos he’d taken.

The first was pretty cute, with wide beaming smiles on both your faces, but the second one definitely stole the show. As per usual, even when caught off guard Cater managed to take the picture at the perfect moment, just as your lips brushed his cheek. His eyes were wide with surprise and there was the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks.

“Cute,” you cooed, pleased with the way it had come out, “You going to post that on MagiCam?”

“You know me so well,” he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze around the middle before accepting his phone back, “We really take the best pictures together babe!”

“If you say so,” you told him lightly.

“I do say so!” he informed you, one hand still holding you to him as his clever fingers tapped away at the screen of his phone one handed, “You’re so photogenic it should be against the rules!”

You huffed in affectionate amusement. Honestly you were pretty sure the only reason you came out looking half so good in all the photos Cater took of the two of you was because he had an eye for it. Cater’s ability with a camera was exemplary, enough to put professionals to shame in your own opinion and frankly you were more than a little flattered that his favorite subject seemed to be you.

His timeline on MagiCam was full to the bursting of pictures of you, doing everything and anything under the sun, almost all of them candid or taken with only a split second’s notice and yet somehow you looked good in all of them. Not only that, but all the pictures were tagged with flattering words about how amazing you looked and how blessed he was to have you and to be your boyfriend.

Looking at it never failed to make you feel warm inside. MagiCam was a huge part of Cater’s life, and when it came to his content you were front and center. It was like his entire timeline was a testament, his own unspoken way of showing his devotion to you more eloquent than any words could ever be. After all if a picture was worth a thousand words than Cater had written entire epochs on how much he adored you.

“Alright all uploaded!” he cheered, pulling you from your fond thoughts and twirling you around in his arms with a bright laugh, “Now that, that’s done we should probably go check up on the A-Deuce combo. They’re supposed to be painting the roses, but knowing the two of them…”

You laughed in agreement and let him drag you off to go check on Heartslabyul’s two most troublesome first years, feeling immensely fond of your boyfriend.

Later when you were scrolling through your own social media you weren’t surprised to find the picture of the two of you from earlier beaming smiles at the camera, tagged with mushy cute things like #loveofmylife, #smilebabe, #aren’twecute?. However the picture of you kissing his cheek was missing.

You fully intended to ask him about it the next day, right up until you caught sight of his phone again. The picture was there both in his background and as his lock screen staring you in the face. You honestly couldn’t do anything in the face of that besides melt and give your sweet boyfriend an affectionate kiss, feeling completely and utterly adored.

He Tells You (And Only You)

Cater was the kind of guy who flirted with everyone, so at times it could be hard to take his words seriously. Compliments like beautiful, wonderful, and precious were a dime a dozen, and not limited to just you either. His whole personality seemed to be exuberant, extroverted and friendly, the kind of guy who had friends everywhere because he had no trouble making friends. He felt almost unreal with how perfect he was.

There were times, especially at the beginning of your relationship that it had made you incredibly insecure. Cater was popular, both through MagiCam and just in general, and you had no idea why he’d want to be with you of all people when it seemed like he could have anyone he wanted. In the face of your worries his words almost felt insincere, shallow and hollow, as if he didn’t really mean them because he said them to everyone he met.

However, the longer you were with him the more you realized something incredibly important. Despite the compliments that fell from his lips at the drop of a hat Cater never, ever used the word love. Sure there was an implication of love, as he said things like “I adore this’ or ‘I’m wild about that’. He said ‘I’m captivated’ or ‘I’m infatuated’ or ‘I’m enthralled’ but never ever ‘I’m in love.’

It was like the words were anathema to him, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it at all. It was then you realized, slowly but surely that a lot of the face he showed to the world was a carefully crafted mask. Just as you’d suspected no one could be quite that perfect, happy and friendly all the time.

Cater got frustrated, anxious and annoyed just as anyone else did, he was just much better at hiding it. There was also a pretty vicious side to him, one that could hurl lethal insults wrapped in so many honeyed words that only those who were looking for it or really paying attention to him noticed.

Funnily enough this actually made you relax. It humanized him, and made him seem more relatable rather than the near perfect being he’d seemed before. Once you realized how much he was hiding you carefully did your best be worthy of his trust, so he could have a safe place to rest. After all keeping up a cheerful mask at all times sounded utterly exhausting to you no matter how good he was at it.

Slowly but surely, he’d begun to let his walls down, coming to you when he had a rough day, sitting in silence with you, cuddling with you, enjoying quiet little moments that you once would’ve thought he’d hate. Instead Cater seemed to relish these stolen moments with you, and as you began to truly see each other for who you were rather than the face you both showed the world you finally got to hear it.

Love. A word he admitted he hadn’t quite believed in and so had never bothered to say. A word he felt was trite and meaningless because of how often it was said over every little thing. A word you’d managed to change his mind about, one that was special and intimate and meant only for the two of you.

“I love you,” you murmured to your boyfriend as the two of you lay cuddled together on his bed, curled up and quietly watching movies together on his laptop. It was something you didn’t say nearly as often these days, as you’d slowly adapted to Cater’s way of thinking that saying it about too many things cheapened the meaning in a lot of ways.

“I love you too,” he assured you, equally quiet, his normal exuberance set aside in placed of utmost sincerity, the words so real and rare on his tongue that you had no choice but to believe them.

He’d only ever said them to you, only ever planned to say them to you, a word that was meant for you and you alone, a little piece of his heart with your name stamped clearly in ownership. It was a privilege you savored and treated with the utmost care, it was the very least you could do to prove your own affections for your boyfriend who cared so very much.

He Makes Things For You

“How do I look?” you asked your boyfriend shyly as you emerged from the dressing room.

Normally trying on clothes with Cater was a lot of fun. Even if you didn’t enjoy shopping all that much Cater made it into an experience. He had an extremely good eye for what would look good on someone and what wouldn’t. and put a lot of interesting things together. He was also perceptive enough to know what would make you uncomfortable and what wouldn’t, and work within your comfort zone.

It made him the idea shopping partner, and lots of fun, especially since he was more than happy to try on anything you asked for him as well. Honestly it was a bit unfair just how good Cater looked in pretty much everything. There were a few times you’d purposefully tried to pick silly things and yet, whether it was sheer force of personality or because he was simply that handsome he always seemed to look good. Still it was fun to try, and the two of you always had a good time together, laughing and teasing joyfully, and you almost never left empty handed.

This however was different. Cater had always had an eye for fashion, and had occasionally dabbled in making his own clothing. However, he’d never really taken it all too seriously before, despite the fact that perfectionist Riddle recognized his talent and had let him design the outfits for when they had to dress up for unbirthday parties.

Despite that, it had never occurred to you that Cater might want to try designing something for you. However he’d apparently wanted to do just that, as he’d shyly approached you with the suggestion when you’d complimented some of his work. That in itself had let you know how very important this was to him. Cater was never shy, so the fact that he’d been so hesitant to ask said a lot.

Which was of course why you’d agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Honestly even if he hadn’t been so shy about it you would’ve said yes. Cater knew your style inside and out and you trusted him more than words could say.

Your trust turned out to be well founded, and the outfit he’d made for you was utter perfection. It was done in colors that flattered your skin, eyes and hair, and had a cut that flattered your figure. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt so simultaneously beautiful and comfortable before. You absolutely loved it, you just hoped Cater loved it too.

“You look beautiful,” Cater told you, quick on the mark as ever with a compliment as he hopped up from the couch he’d been waiting on, “But then again you always do.”

You huffed at that, but didn’t protest as he circled around you, holding still so he could view you from all angles.

“Do you like it?” he asked, once he reached your front again, uncharacteristically shy again.

“Cater are you kidding I love it!” you told him fiercely, not willing to let any sort of insecurity stand.

“Pretty sure you’d have to say that even if it was ugly babe,” Cater told you a little wryly.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” you conceded, unwilling to lie, especially when you knew how much Cater valued honesty, but also unwilling to back down, “But in this case I’m definitely not exaggerating! Have you seen me?!”

You twirled in front of him arms spread for emphasis, “I look amazing! I feel amazing which, as you’ve told me, is just as if not more important! If you don’t believe me we can march right over to Pomefiore and get Vil. I’m sure you’d believe him!”

“No need for that,” Cater told you with a huff of amusement, his eyes warm and full of affection as he gently tugged you to him, his warm hands clasping your elbows as he peered into your eyes, “You really do like it babe?”

“I really, really do,” you answered him, with all the sincerity you could muster, “So much so I might just have to wear it every day. I’m not sure my other clothes could ever compare.”

“No need to go that far,” he insisted, though the bright look in his eyes belied the words, “I can always make you more.”

“So long as it doesn’t put you out,” you replied, “I’d love to wear your clothes Cater, anywhere anytime.”

Your boyfriend gave you one of his rare soft smiles, tugging you into his arms and just holding you, clearly grateful for what you’d said. You hugged back, quietly scheming to yourself determined to help Cater realize how talented he was. He deserved it, but in the mean time you would simply savor how much he clearly loved and trusted you, letting you be his first real model. You really couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than Cater Diamond and you were now even more determined to make sure he knew just how much you adored him in return.

Like this or my writing in general? Feel free to drop by my ask box to make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first! Want to support me or make a commission? Please see my Ko-fi!

[witching-hour]

Nobody Else [EZ Reyes x Reader]

(A/N): if this isn’t ez, i don’t know what is. i know very very little spanish, please correct me if i wrote something incorrectly. gif creds to @hvitserkk

SUMMARY: the reader goes through ez’s phone, making him believe he hurt her trust, but that’s not the case

TW: none

YOU were reclined across the soft cushions of your couch in your apartment, waiting for the return of your boyfriend. EZ stormed out after catching you going through his phone. He didn’t say anything except a single “out” when you had asked where he was going. You didn’t know when he would come back, or if he was even going to come back at all, but you were going to give him another hour or you were going to check out the scrapyard. You knew him long enough to know how he ticked, and he was a talker when it came to your relationship — strong on communication. If he were angry with you, he would tell you. Depending on how mad he was is how long and how much space he would need.

Besides, it wasn’t like you were being snoopy. Okay, you were being snoopy. But not in a bad way. You trusted EZ completely. He told you anything and everything that ran through his mind, except certain things pertaining to the club as he had made it clear from the get-go that the club was involved in shady shit and it was best to keep you as far from it as possible — only telling you things that was on a need-to-know-basis.

You were going through EZ’s phone to look for blackmail level pictures of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and himself in their ‘the boySssS’ group chat. God help whoever named it. It was the group chat you and Letty were not a part of, and you knew them boys had to have sent some crazy shit that you would love to get your hands on. You had to constantly scroll up since all they do when they weren’t together was text, text, text, and text. You had found a picture of Gilly half asleep with an egg broken on his face with Angel holding a half empty carton, which was sent by Coco in retaliation of Gilly taking shit about Coco banging one of Vicki’s girls. You sent that to yourself so quick.

EZ had cut your search for blackmail short when he caught you scrolling through his phone, clearly oblivious to him walking back into the living room from the kitchen with a beer in hand. You looked up from the phone to be faced with the biggest frown you ever saw on his face. EZ carefully took the phone back and shoved it into his pocket, snatching his leather kutte from your coat hook by the front door, and left.

You heard a pair of heavy footsteps at the door, soon following with it opening. Kicking the front door closed, EZ walked through the threshold to where you were laying. He held two plastic bags in his hands: one holding a bunch of random goodies that he tossed on the small wooden coffee table and the other had two styrofoam take out containers filled with what smelt like the enchiladas verdes from your favorite restaurant down the street – also the place where he had taken you both for your first date together.

You sat up to make room for him to sit next to you, leaning against the arm rest with your legs crisscrossed. He sat facing the table, unpacking the items he had bought for you.

“What’s all this?” you asked tentatively.  

He scooted closer to you, taking your left hand into his, casually stroking the knuckles with his thumb. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to not make you feel safe and secure with me. I just want you to know there’s nobody else but you. It’s you and me, nena,” he pronounced, bringing your hand up to his lips and laying light kisses across it before opening your palm and pressing his lips to the center, and allowing you to cradle his cheek. “Te amo.”

The tears flooding your eyes were threatening to spill. His profession with his puppy dog eyes only made your heart go into a frenzy. As if you couldn’t love him more than you already did. “Ezekiel…” You crawled up into his lap and threw your arms around him as he wrapped his own around your body, holding you tightly to him. “I wasn’t going through your phone because I didn’t trust you. I trust you with everything in me, baby. I was just looking for weird ass pictures of you and the guys.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the sweetest, baby.” Your lips curved upwards as you ran your hand over his cropped hair. “I hope I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” you spoke softly.

His mouth formed into one of his award-winning smiles. “No complaints here.” You both laughed, leaning your foreheads together before he kissed you deeply, expressing what he could not with his words.

You got the message.

MAYANS TAG LIST: @cutekittylexie @talicat713 @mayans-sauce @starrynite7114 @trulysuccubus @rebelwrites

[ready-to-obeyme]

starlight (Lucifer/MC)

For @dazatsu for the Obey Me Secret Santa for 2020. I hope this fic of mine makes you smile at least once! :) I loved thinking up of the prompt for your secret santa, so I hope I did your aesthetics and preferences justice! I tried including both of your faves and ended up focusing on one. 

Feel free to message me on discord or on my personal @epiphyllous.

Happy Holidays! :)

Summary: It’s been a few days or so since you’ve returned to the human world to attend your university classes. Missing you, Lucifer decides to give you a visit, (with Belphie tagging along) hopefully without being seen, just to check up on you. 

Or so he planned. He never could have anticipated how much he actually misses you. 

notes: gn!reader, College Student MC, sfw, (sorta) established relationship, pining

--

Be patient, Lucifer tells himself. One semester: four months, or even better, fifteen weeks. Lucifer would never admit it to anyone else, but he counts the days until you come back to the House of Lamentations, occupy the room that is now too quiet for comfort, and sit at your seat at the dining table and laugh with all of them again.

The first week after you leave to attend university classes, he keeps his brothers in line, making sure they keep on going to RAD classes instead of spending the entire day moping over your absence. Not that he didn’t miss you, because, of course, he did. At the best of times you were like a buoy in a stormy night, and at others, you were a comforting presence at his side who taught him how to laugh again.

But you had promised to come back, and he had promised that they would be waiting for you when you did. Lucifer prides himself on control, so in control he would be.

Or so he would have been if he had not already planned to ‘check-up’ on you in the human world at the end of this week. 

(He tries not to think about the fact he has caved in only one week after you’ve been gone, but demons are weak to temptation-- so he forgives himself, just this once, because it is to see you.)

To anyone else, especially his brothers, he’s visiting the human realm to take care of human exchange student documents. Only Diavolo, and Barbatos by association, knows why he’s actually settling the last piece of his paperwork prior to his trip. Diavolo had only given him a wide smile, but he is embarrassed to be so evidently transparent to his old friend. (It would have been even more embarrassing had Barbatos had been there to receive the news, so Lucifer is thankful for that at least.) 

With everything in order, his brothers threatened to do well in class while he was gone and too distracted to notice the real reason he’s so eagerly planning a trip away, Lucifer heads out the door.

Belphie is waiting for him in the doorway. 

“You aren’t planning to go by yourself, are you?” Belphie says with a leisurely smile, and Lucifer can only sigh.

.

.

“Oh, sorry-- er, Pro-Professor…”

Lucifer watches as another student meekly ducks past him, skittering away with their head ducked low until they merge with their group. He can hear snippets of what they’re saying, and he isn’t sure what to think when all the comments have been on his attire. It didn’t dawn on him when he first walked onto campus grounds with Belphie in tow, but with the glances he’s been given and the attention he’s been garnering despite his attempts to stay hidden, he realizes how strange his outfit must be when compared to the rest of the population. 

He sighs and crosses his leg on the wooden bench they’ve perched themselves on, turning towards his youngest brother when he hears him laugh. Belphie gives him a sleepy smile that does not hide any of the amusement behind it. “Those people think you’re a cosplayer,” he says to Lucifer, pointing to a group of students who were looking at the two of them. “From an anime about vampires or butlers.” 

Lucifer looks down at his fur-collared coat on his shoulders and gives it a slight tug. “Ah, I suppose the coat is a little bit ill-suited for the weather, isn’t it?” He huffs when Belphie gives him a deadpan. “I jest, Belphie,” he says, crossing his arms (regally, in a way that only convinces everyone who watched him that he was playing in-character). “I understand clearly now that my ‘casual’ attire is not the norm for this university campus.”

“Or any other campus,” Belphie mutters. “People have been saying your vest makes you look like you part-time at Olive Garden… wherever that is. You should have just dressed like me today.” And Lucifer cannot argue with that sentiment, considering how well Belphie fits in with the university atmosphere and environment with his long jacket worn over his tee. If he ignores the comments on his own attire, Lucifer can hear the whispers of awe and even admiration at the cow-printed pillow that Belphie has brought along with him today to ‘comfortably sleep in class while he waits for you,’ or so he has explained to Lucifer.

“I’m not sure how I would pull off the university-look you so excel at,” Lucifer says exasperatedly. “I doubt it would…” Just as quickly as he cut his sentence off, Lucifer jumps to his feet, quickly dragging Belphie by the pillow (much to his complaints) to hide behind a particularly bushy shrub. 

“Ugh, let go of my pillow, you’re going to stretch it out--”

“Shh, be quiet,” Lucifer snaps, glaring at his brother who only stubbornly looks back. “I’d rather not be caught sneaking around on campus when we’re not supposed to.”

“Wait, what? Aren’t we here to see them?” Belphie retorts, “Isn’t this the whole point? Wait, unless…”

Lucifer can feel the tell-tale heat on his ears as warnings of an oncoming blush and wills it away with a scowl, daring Belphie to finish his thought. As expected from his free-spirited and equally willful brother, Belphie does anyway.

“You didn’t tell MC you were coming, did you?” Belphie says, and as much as Lucifer is happy to have such a cunning brother, he wished Belphie were otherwise at the moment. “That’s why we’ve been hiding around trying to find them rather than just having them ditch class--”

“I would not make them ditch class--”

“--and spend time with us.” Belphie pauses. “Why didn’t you just tell them we were coming?” 

In the corner of his eyes, Lucifer sees you walk down the crackling pavement-- backpack on your shoulders, skin a healthy glow (thank Diavolo), and eyes as bright as ever-- and Lucifer’s thoughts trail to a stop. His gaze follows you as you walk past them without notice, and he thinks to himself that a human like you truly does belong to a place with the sun, because you are as radiant as starlight.  

Lucifer looks back towards Belphie who had fallen silent, only to fight back another bout of embarrassment as Belphie stares back at him with a knowing, mischievous gleam. 

“Let’s grab a seat in their class,” Belphie says, standing up easily and walking the same direction Lucifer watched you disappear into. Just when Lucifer thinks the gleam is only from the sun, Belphie continues, his voice dripping with saccharine, “Just so you can watch them a little more closely.”

Lucifer sighs, less inclined to argue when they have little time to catch up with you. (Though even if he did have time, there was not much to say when nothing Belphie said was wrong.)

.

.

Looking back at the conversation now, Lucifer wishes he did argue, just a little, because maybe then he would feel better upon watching in horror as Belphie sleeps beside him in class only five minutes into lecture. 

After following you, they had picked inconspicuous seats in the back row of the lecture hall (with these tiny, little tables-- Lucifer doesn’t understand how anyone could write on these), hoping to remain unseen by you who sat a few rows up in the middle. Based off the scattered, quiet laughter that surrounds them, Lucifer thinks that their choice in seats was a moot point now. 

“Belphie. Belphie,” Lucifer hisses, nudging his brother’s leg in hopes of stirring him awake. “Lecture just began. How are you asleep already?” 

“S’fine,” Belphie mumbles, waving a flippant hand. “We don’t even take this class.” 

From behind them, Lucifer hears someone quietly whisper ‘legend’, and it takes everything in him to not bury his face into his hands and make themselves even more noticeable. He sighs, but regardless, he looks forward, spotting the back of your head almost immediately in a sea of students. Ever so often, he would see your head dip down to look at your laptop and up again to read the slides that were presented. The movement is repetitive, most likely reminiscent to how you would also be in a Devildom RAD class, but for some reason, watching you focus and intently study in your university classes makes it very evident how often he finds himself proud of you. 

And he almost feels guilty for following you on campus. After all, he did make a promise to be there when you came back after waiting patiently for you, and it was not as if you left happily. If anything, you had hoped to stay-- but your future awaits, and so you promised to work hard to get back to them as soon as possible. Perhaps he should keep to the promise you had made to each other-- oh. 

Lucifer watches as you lean down to rummage through your backpack, and he almost feels his heart stop when he sees your D.D.D in your hand. Your fingers scroll through something: Past texts? Your gallery, perhaps? Regardless of what the reason is, Lucifer feels something warm spread within his chest as he thinks that maybe you had missed them (hopefully even him?) just as much as they missed you. 

What he does not expect is to have his phone vibrate with a text from you. 

>> Are you busy right now?

Lucifer is thankful that Belphie is asleep because he does not see the way Lucifer fumbles to get his D.D.D out and text with his heart at his throat. 

<< Not at the moment. 

He pauses. 

<< Is something the matter?

The response is quick.

>> No, nothing is wrong! 

>> I’m just in class right now and ngl it’s kind of boring.

Lucifer buries his chuckle into his fist.

<< And here I thought you had an emergency.

>> :crying emoji: This IS an emergency. I’m DYING

>> of BOREDOM

>> Save me, Lucifer!!

<< I will not be an accomplice to distracting you during class. 

He’s already enabling you by responding, so it’s not exactly the truth, he admits. But he does like the way you tilt your head as you are wont to do when you find something amusing. 

>> Darn, okay I tried

>> I just

Lucifer watches as the text bubbles stay on screen, and he waits for your upcoming message when the people around them stand up, putting their laptops into their backpacks at the end of the lecture.

>> I miss you guys

He looks up to see you standing up, D.D.D. in hand, head down and fingers still over the screen. After a moment, you type something else and lock the phone, putting it into your backpack before heading down the aisle to leave the class. 

Your last few messages pop up.

>> Class just ended so I’ll have to go study at the library but

>> I just wanted to say I really miss you

>> Hope you’re doing well

>> Love you. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Lucifer turns toward Belphie, whose violet eyes are still bleary from sleep but whose words are as clear and succinct as ever. He yawns before continuing, “Go after them. Let me know when their classes are done so we can actually do something together.” 

At this, Lucifer feels his gaze soften. “Yes, I’ll let you know,” he says, standing up and walking down the path to the door. “And, ah, Belphie…” He waits until his youngest brother looks up from his pillow before telling him with a small, wry smile, “Be sure not to get locked inside the classroom when all the lectures finish.” 

.

.

After a few mishaps, Lucifer manages to ask for the directions to the library most commonly used by the student body. The first few times he tried, his language was too formal for anyone to truly believe he was asking for direction. “Who are you cosplaying? Can I take a picture with you?” was thrown at him numerous times. “Am I being pranked right now? Are you a youtuber?” was also asked at him twice-- which was not often, but it was strange that it happened that many times. 

Eventually, someone had, after watching him cross his arms indignantly, given him the instructions to the library. It was only when he was walking up the steps to the building that he thought that everything would have gone much faster if he had only demanded directions and hypnotized a random student into telling him. But he imagined that if you ever found out, you would not be pleased, and that-- if anything-- was the one reason why he resisted the urge to. 

Lucifer walks into the air-conditioned building and searches for you. It does not take him long until he sees you, sitting at one of the desks in the library, laying your head on your arms, fast asleep.

It is around three in the afternoon, the sunshine filters through the ceiling windows and scatters across your desk, showering you in a flurry of light, and Lucifer thinks he was a fool to ever think he could bear to not see you for a moment longer. 

The seat beside you is open, so he sits there, watching the moving sunlight dance across the hand you placed near your face. Your chest rises and falls evenly, and for a moment, you clench your hands but do not wake, seeming to dream of holding onto something instead. It takes all the self-control Lucifer could muster to not take your hand in his. Instead, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, careful not to let it fall off, and watches as students filter in and out of the library in the hustle of academic life. 

Lucifer isn’t sure how long he waited, surrounded by tall shelves of books and aisles of encyclopedias, but you start to stir, waking up and wincing at the sun in your eyes in a way that has him smiling in amusement. You first grab onto the jacket that had started to fall off your shoulders, and upon realizing that it did not belong to you, you look up to see Lucifer, smiling fondly. 

“Lucifer?” 

Lucifer can feel the side of his eyes crinkle at the sound of your voice still raspy from sleep. He sweeps away the lint on your shoulder as you sleepily gather up his jacket into your lap. “Whatever happened to ‘studying in the library’ as you told me?” He says teasingly, smile widening when you fluster and laugh nervously. 

“I-- you know… I was taking a break and,” you start to say, pausing only to look at him accusingly, much to his amusement. “Wait, forget about that! How are you here? Why are you here?” 

“I’m the vice-president of the student council-- I’m able to be wherever I please,” he tells you, and you huff at how smug he sounds. “As for why I’m here, it’s to check up on one of our human exchange students, of course… is what I would say.” Lucifer leans forward and gently caresses your cheek with his thumb, unable to push the affection that bubbles forth as he sees your hand press over his. “But I also just wanted to see you.”

Lucifer hears a cough from behind him and feels heat rushing into his cheeks at the (quite frankly) polite reminder that he was in a public space. He retracts his gloved hand and clears his throat, hoping that the moment is enough to clear away the pink that has undoubtedly found its way onto his face. He expects you to tease him, as you often do whenever you have the chance. When it does not come, he glances back to you, only to feel his heart squeeze at the way you look at him: your eyes softened, lips upturned gently, and gaze adoring in a way that made it seem like you believed he had hung the stars.

(If there were any more ‘coughing’ to remind Lucifer that they were, in fact, still in the library instead of their own world, neither of you take notice.)

“I missed you too,” you say, summing up his feelings in the simplest way that only you could do. You take his hand into yours and gently sway it back and forth. “Thank you for coming to visit me.”

It had been a good idea, after all, he thinks, to indulge himself for once and come see you if it meant he could hold your hand like this again. “Belphie was hoping you would give us a tour of your university,” Lucifer says softly, sweeping his thumb over your hand. “If you were done with classes.”

He feels you squeeze his hand in response to his affection, and his heart soars even as he listens to you speak. “Belphie is here?” You ask, surprised. When he nods in confirmation, you laugh. “Did he catch you when you were leaving or something? Threaten to tell your brothers if you didn’t take him along?” 

Lucifer doesn’t answer you, preferring to huff instead, though he can’t deny that he is pleased that you can know his brothers’ behavior well enough to hit it right on the money. “He opted to sleep in the last lecture hall you were in rather than go on the wild goose chase I had to find this library. Is nobody at your university unable to fathom that someone would wear something slightly more formal to class?”

“Yup,” you reply easily, grinning at him. “But it’s okay, I like your outfit. It’s very you.” You pause. “Also, we can always go shopping later, though, so people can stop staring at you. And also to buy some souvenirs for your brothers!” Your eyes brighten as you think, and his heart melts at the fact that his brothers are in your thoughts. (For as much as he wants to have your attention, he finds that the love you can give to his brothers is as equally enjoyable to witness.) 

You hum thoughtfully, “I think Beel might appreciate some food from this new restaurant that opened up last week. Maybe Levi would like something from the cute Japanese store down the road? Oh, and face masks for Asmo!”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy with anything you purchase for them,” Lucifer says, making you look up at him with a smile. And he wants to reach out to cup your face again.

Ring ring!

The both of you glance at your phone when it plays a tune, and as quickly as the alarm goes off, your hand is there to turn it off. Lucifer looks at you questioningly before you sigh.  “I have class in about ten minutes,” you say apologetically.

“Is that so?” Lucifer says, standing up from his seat. “Then I shall accompany you.” He extends a hand in askance for his jacket, only to give a huff of laughter when you only stare at him incredulously. “Is it that much of a surprise that I would like to escort you to your classes? Unless, of course, you would prefer me not to--”

“No!” You duck your head down, looking around quickly, much to Lucifer’s amusement, before lowering your volume. ‘No, I mean,” you fluster, “I’d like that. Thank you.”

Oh, how Lucifer wants to press a kiss to your forehead, but to save you (and himself, though he thinks he no longer has anything to lose) the embarrassment, he settles for easy laughter as he wraps his jacket around himself. You follow after him, pushing in your chair and lugging up your backpack, your laptop securely inside. 

“Shall we go then?” he asks, holding out an elbow for you to hook your arms with his. When you slide yourself close to him and walk down the steps outside the library, he realizes that this is the many things he has missed since you've been gone. Your hand is a comfortable presence on his arm and your footsteps are aligned with his as you walk in tandem to your next class. He briefly thinks about his brothers, most particularly how Mammon would bluster about their proximity, or how one of the romance novels Satan would have described this very situation he was in: walking alongside someone dear to him on a campus that does not seem as big when you are together.

Your hand squeezes his arm gently before you guide him through hallways and pathways. When a crowd of students bustles past them at the end of lecture, he feels you inch closer to him. 

“It’s a lecture hall, not a discussion class,” you start to tell him, much to his confusion. You laugh. “They won’t notice you’re not part of the class, so you can sit next to me.” You lower your hand and take his hand in yours.

Lucifer squeezes your hand comfortingly as the last of the previous class files out. “Try not to be too distracted by my presence,” he comments and cannot help the upturn of his lips when you shoot him a withering look he does not have to see to know it has no heat behind it.

Among other glances and subtle affection that you provide him the rest of the day convinces him fully that there has never been a better decision than to visit you. When the two of you finally meet up with Belphie, who had been asleep on a nearby bench, the night is spent out following you as you guide them around campus and at the nearest hub of entertainment. 

In the end, you do collect enough gifts for all his brothers, even sneaking a small present into his hands with a sly smile on your face.

And when he returns to the Devildom after a long, long farewell where no one wanted to leave, he provides his brothers with their souvenirs (after they stopped complaining to him about going off to the human world with only Belphie). He tugs off the coat that now lingers with your scent and places the gift you had purchased him onto his desk-- a little trinket that he can now look at and remind himself of you, with eyes of starlight and laughter as warm as the sun.

He thinks of the last message that you sent him and sends you a response.

<< I love you too.

<< Until next time. 

[mollygetssherlockcoffee]

Get The Picture

Pairing: Spencer x fem!reader

Summary: (PADS, part 3) Nathan just won’t take ‘No’ for an answer

Warning: Disrespectful male who needs a brush up on consent and harassment... little fluff?

Words: 1209

A/N: I wrote Part three! I couldn’t wait. I changed the ending 3 times but I hope this is okay... Let me know if I should write anything else :D 

Part One HERE    Part Two HERE

Master List HERE

Your phone pinged with an alert. You swiped your thumb over the screen, unlocking the phone and opening the iMessage.

Nathan: Hey, Y/N, how’s it going? I was wondering what you’re up to, maybe we could meet up and grab some food or something?

  You let out a groan, dropping your phone into your lap and squeezing your hands into fists to stop yourself from throwing your phone across the room. This was the forth time Nathan asked you out for dinner. The first two times, he had worded it as ‘Would you like to go on a date?’ and ‘How about I take you on a date?’ before changing to asking if you wanted to ‘grab some food’. When he had first asked you, you had told him outright that you were not interested in dating him. You were many things, but you were not a woman who led people on. However, it was clear from the next two dinner invitations, and now this one, that he wasn’t accepting no as an answer.

 “What wrong?” Spencer asked, looking away from the TV where the Doctor Who episode ‘Turn Left’ was playing.

You sighed, rubbing at your forehead. “You remember Nathan Paddock, from that case a few months back? And you remember me telling you he’d messaged me a few times? Well, he keeps asking me out. I’ve told him no, like, outright said I do not want to date him, but he’s not letting up.” “Y/N, that’s harassment. Put in a complaint with Hotch, you know he’d sort it out” he tells you, having taken your phone and glanced over the latest message.

“I don’t want to have to take it to Hotch. That’s like running to you dad at every little inconvenience” your nose scrunched up at the thought.

“Dad?” Spencer laughed, shaking his head at you. He was quiet for a moment before turning to you, “Text back this: ‘I’m really good thanks. Can’t hang out, we’re watching Doctor Who’. Those exact words.”

“Why that?” you questioned. You typed the message quickly, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

 The ‘Delivered’ soon turned to a ‘Seen’ before a new messaged popped up from Nathan.

 Nathan: We? Who’s we?

 “That’s why” Spencer said, having peeked over your shoulder to see the message. He turned in his spot, shifting so his back rested against the arm rest of the couch. He patted the space on the couch between his legs, “Come here, back against my chest and take a selfie.”

 You looked at him for a moment, your head tilted to the side and your eyebrows drawn in confusion. Then it hit you. Spencer had laid the trap perfectly, and Nathan had walked right into it. The positioning you’d be in would indicate that you appeared to be more than just friends with the BAU genius.

 It was a sad fact that men seem to respect a man’s ‘ownership’ or ‘claim’ over a woman, than the woman’s response of a simple ‘no’.

 Your cheeks burned as you moved to sit between Spencer’s legs and leant back his chest. His arms wrapped around your middle, hugging you tightly to him as his chin rested on your shoulders, your cheek pressed against his.

 You switched on your camera, turning it onto selfie-mode and holding it up in front of you. You don’t know why but it shocks you a little to see Spencer’s smile. You expected a small, awkward smile but that wasn’t what you got. Spencer’s smile was genuine and large, he gave a full grin while his eyes thinned as he looked at the camera.

 Seeing his smile, you could help your own. Your thumb pressed over the button, capturing one photo and then another. Then Spencer moved, turning to face you and pressing a kiss to your cheek; seeming to go all out to get Nathan off your back. You took the picture. You can’t help by laugh, your eyes closing as your thumb pressing the capture button again.

 Spencer gives you a tight squeeze before pulling back slightly. His arms are still around you, gently holding you to him but his nose is rest on your shoulder, his lips against the back of your shoulder blade.

 You click onto the images, scrolling through the five or six that you took. You favourite two of them, one of you both smiling and the other of Spencer kissing your check while you laughed, eyes closed. You both looked cute, happy. You looked like a couple.

 You didn’t bother moving from your spot as you went onto your messages with Nathan. You sent him the two photos before going back onto your images. You smiled as you looked at the two images, flickering between the two.

 “I love these, we look so cute” you smile. You bite your lip. You really wanted to set the cheek-kiss picture as your screen saver but thought that maybe that would be too much. You weren’t dating Spencer; he was your best friend. Yes, he had basically told you to act like he was your boyfriend in that second, but that was to get Nathan off your back.

 Your tilted to the side in his arms slightly as he reaches to grab his phone from his pocket. “Send me them, please?”

You did as he requested, Airdropping the photos to your phone. You leaned back against him, watching as he saved the photos on his phone and favourited them. “Thanks for doing that.”

“Its fine” he says, giving your waist a gentle squeeze in reassurance. It was quiet for a moment until he asked, “Hey, Y/N, why don’t you want to date Nathan?”

“I’m not interested in him. He’s not my type” you shrugged. “I like nice guys, guys who actually think about me and what I need and like.” You bit your lip for a moment, should you do it, should you tell him? Spencer was often obvious, but you thought why not, lay out the breadcrumbs and hope he sees it. He may be obvious, but he’s not stupid. “Someone who would bring me my favourite coffee, would take the time to explain a Star Wars reference to me. Someone who would stock up of sanitary pads for me.”

 Oh shit, you didn’t mean to make it that blatantly clear.

 It was quiet and still. Neither of you spoke. Spencer lifted his phone up, making sure it was clearly in your view, and set the photo of him kissing your cheek as his lock screen. His lips pressed against your temple and your breath caught in your throat as his fingers trailed beneath you top, stroking the skin of your belly as he pulled you tighter to his chest.

 Your cheeks burned. He knew what you were saying, he understood. “So…”

“Do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?” he asked, his fingers still stroking your skin.

“Like a-” you began, your head turning to catch a glimpse of him.

“Yeah” he confirmed. His voice was low, showing his nervousness even though you had basically just admitted your crush on him.

“I would like that” you nodded, your cheeks warming, and you smiled, biting your bottom lip.

  And that was that.

Tag List: @101donuts​ @thatsonezesty13​ @sskhair​ @marvelscatlady​ @80strashbag @parkeroffline​

[s-creations]

In Sickness, In Health Chapter 3 - Mental Health

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros           Rating: General Audience           Relationships/Pairings:  José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles   Additional Tags: getting sick, being cared for, mental health, injury, sore throat, common cold, chicken pox, broken bones, whooping cough, taking care of others.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

José knew it was a long time coming.

 He wondered if it was the constant, non-stop life of a job and raising three kids kept it at bay for so long. Because it was upon realizing the familiar gray clouds were approaching once more that he also counted how long it had been since his last...episode. How long ago his last relapse was. How long it had been since his heart beating heavily in his chest while his mind became muddled. 

 It started out on Monday. Waking up early to get into work. Knowing he was going to be gone until Friday. Gone from his family and the warm bed surrounded by his husbands. Sleeping in numerous hotel rooms where it was uncomfortably cold. 

 Then his mind seemed to fixate on every negative aspect of his job. How long the flights seemed to be. How every patron had made it their mission to be as loud, needy, and rude as possible. He was sure every mistake, which was numerous his mind helpfully offered, would cost him his position. Which sent him down a spiral thought of how the family would suffer. How dependent they were on him financially and he would be a disappointment once more.

 José knew the mask was slipping when co-workers pulled him aside after one flight. Asking if he was okay. To which he merely smiled and said he was feeling fine. But he could tell by the exchange of worried glances he wasn’t being convincing. 

 It was both a relief and a mounting worry when the end of the week arrived. He was finally able to go home. But he didn’t want to face the family. The kids were old enough to know something was wrong but not able to understand what was wrong. This was a burden José didn’t even want his husbands to deal with. He didn’t want the kids to worry as well.

 The front door opened slowly, José standing in the doorway. Contemplating if he should go in or just rent out a hotel until this passed. 

 But it won’t pass. The problem is always there. Hiding will only make them worry more. They’d just hunt you down and do you really want to do that to them?

 José couldn’t tell if the voice was supposed to be helping or not. Letting out a slow sigh, he walked in. Mind and body exhausted, he shuffled over to the couch. Unable to convince himself to make it to the proper bed. Merely kicking off his shows as he settled down. Sleep not coming to him until a few hours later. Even then, it was restless. 

 He heard when the family woke up. Familiar sounds of feet hitting the ground. Cheerful cries of ‘Tio Chito!’ and ‘Uncle Donald!’ coming from the triplets. Very mumbled and soft replies from the two adults. José rolled so he was facing the back of the couch. Curling up to be as small as possible. Footsteps drew closer. Heading straight for the kitchen, the sounds of breakfast cooking and plates clinking together following. José wondered how long it would take for them to find him. 

 It honestly didn’t take that long. 

 Curious footsteps drew closer to the couch. “Tio José?”

 Oh, it was Louie. Of course it was going to be one of the triplets who found him first. José could only hope that Louie would assume the parrot was still asleep. That the duckling would eventually become bored and wanders back to the family. 

 José twitched slightly feeling hands grasping the back of his shirt. Louie climbed up and laid himself across the parrot.

 “Louie?” Donald called out from the kitchen, “What are you doing in there?”

 “Shhh, Tio José’s sleeping.” The duckling replied. Two sets of footsteps sounded as, no doubt, Donald and Panchito walked in. Louie was lifted up with a small noise of complaint. 

 “Come on, let’s let Tio José sleep.” Donald said, his voice growing distant as he went back to the kitchen. 

 Panchito had remained behind, José didn’t have to look up. Sure enough, a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. “José? ...Where are we on the scale?”

 It was always ‘we’, never ‘you’. The rooster made it clear how determined he was to help out in any way. It wasn’t a problem José didn’t have to manage alone. This was an issue they handled together. 

 “José, where on the scale.”

 Oh, right, he was supposed to answer. “...7.”

 “Okay, we can work with a 7.” Being cautious, Panchito slowly moved the parrot to sit up. José opened his eyes to get his bearings as everything shifted. “Did you sleep?”

 “...I think so...but not long…”

 “I think the first thing we need to worry about is getting you a shower. And out of your work clothes. I’m sure that will help out as well.”

 José made no complaint as he was moved to stand. The rooster more than happy (more or less)  to carry the other to the bedroom.

 “Tio José?”

 And they had to pass the kitchen. So the triplets had their full attention set on their uncles trying to sneak by. Donald looked sheepish, a silent apology for having José being caught in the act. 

 This wouldn’t be an issue if you could actually take care of yourself.

 “No worries,” Panchito attempted to calm the worried looks, “José’s just feeling a little unwell. But he’s going to get cleaned up and sleep for a bit.” 

 José watched as the three ducklings exchanged looks. The parrot holding himself back from hiding away behind the tall rooster. 

 “...I like watching movies when I’m not feeling well.” Huey quietly offered. 

 Which Dewey jumped onto easily. “Yeah! Movie marathon in the living room! Can we do that, please? To help Tio José.”

 Louie’s eyes darted between all. Curious about the outcome, but not wanting to weigh in. 

 “As wonderful as that sounds, Tio José may just want to sleep. Let’s let him get himself clean and decide what he wants to do after that.” Panchito smiled softly at the small chorus of ‘Yes, Tio Chito’ as he led José away. The bedroom door closed, placing both birds in darkness.

 “You go get clean. I’ll bring you your sleepwear. Then we can decide what to do after.” 

 “...What if I do not want to be with the kids?”

 “Then you don’t have to. We won’t force you to.” 

 “...But I will disappoint them.”

 Panchito gave a gentle kiss to José’s forehead. “You could never disappoint them. Now, go shower. Take all the time you need.”

 The parrot gave a small sigh. Wishing he could just hide away in the red plumage. But knowing he wouldn’t win, he instead shuffled away to the bathroom. 

 The water was scalding as it fell on José. The room filling with steam as his fingers ran through his feathers. It was nice to get the work dirt and smell off of him. Sure, the hotel rooms had showers. But being home just made that feeling of being clean all the better. That didn’t mean José was going to leave anytime soon. He still had to decide what happened when he left. 

 Do you really think your family will want to be around you?

 “But I want to be with them,” José quietly argued back, “Wasn’t that the whole reason I came back?”

 It was so they didn’t have to hunt you down. Continuing to be a burden. Just tuck yourself away and keep out of the way. They don’t want to see you.

 The parrot frowned. Not in defeat, but in determination. “Except they do… We planned a movie marathon tonight. They suggested it.”

 They don’t want to see you!

 “Well, I want to see them.”

 José turned the water off after only a few minutes of getting clean. Climbing out and grabbing the towel, scrubbing it over himself to dry off quickly. Eyes landing on a pile of clothing resting on the toilet seat. Panchito must have walked in while José was internally arguing with himself. The parrot ignored the feeling of clothing sticking to wet feathers as he left the bathroom. The rooster, who had been scrolling through his phone, jumped as the door was suddenly opened. Clearly not prepared.

 “J-José, you alright?”

 “I want my boys.”

 Panchito gave a relieved laugh and smiled. “Alright. Let’s go see our boys.”

 They entered the living room, where the couch was already transformed into a blanket tent. Stack of movies resting at the base of the entertainment system. Dewey cheered upon seeing Panchito and José. But Louie was the one who dashed over, clinging to the parrot’s leg. José instantly bent down to pick the duckling up. Finding comfort in the weight and warmth in his arms. 

 All clambered onto the couch, smuched together as the movie started. No one commented when José fell asleep halfway through. 

[kareofbears]

persona 5 strikers thoughts and feelings

This is going to be a long post. Like, the type of post you’d only really have time to read when you’re trying to sleep but you’re not ready to be unconscious yet so you’re just looking for something to do to spend your time with minimal effort. 

So in 2018, a masterpiece was born into the world: Into the Spider-verse was released and it was amazing—it’s honestly the best spiderman movie we have without a doubt, and it’ll be very far into the future before Spider-verse is beaten as the best spiderman movie. Them’s the facts. Then in 2019, Spider-man: Far From Home was dropped. It’s a great movie! Great characters, great continuation of who these characters are and works fantastic as a continuation of a story. It’s really hard trying to take the torch of a previous movie (or in Marvel’s case, juggling twenty something movies) and come up with a new movie that both works on its own, as well as being the next step in this series of films. Thus, with that idea in mind, I think it’s kind of unfair to judge into the spiderverse and far from home, because these are two movies with two completely different objectives in mind. 

Okay, so this is still a persona 5 strikers post, I promise, but the idea is the same: Persona 5 could basically do whatever it wanted—new story, new characters, new everything, and it’s just plain old awesome. However, Persona 5 strikers did not have that sort of freedom. It was bound to the original game, and it had its own rules and stuff it had to keep intact, characters they had to work with, and on top of that, it had to justify its existence as a sequel (lets pretend money doesnt exist lmfao). 

SO, the big question is: did it do that? Did it justify its existence? 

And my answer: holy fuck did it ever do that

I came into this game knowing the extreme bare minimum. I knew there was someone named Sophia, and i knew there was roadtrip, and i knew there were Personas. That’s my knowledge of it before i played it on the Switch.  I should also clarify like, early on, that i was not expecting anything from this game. At all. I was the world’s biggest cynic of this game—if you scroll down my p5s tag far enough, youll just see me complaining about a game that hasn’t even come out yet. I was fully expecting to have this be a Waifu show, and any male character that isn’t Akira to just be shoved aside like some kind of nerd in a high school hallway, and i have never been more pleased to be wrong. In fact, i actually owe it an apology, because of how fucking rude i was for no reason!!! Because this game deserves everything to be honest. 

Persona 5 strikers is, frankly, insane. Insane in the sense that it got to pull shit off that just would never have existed in the original game, because the original game is scared. It had to be as impressive as possible and garner as much attention as possible. Strikers does not have that problem—every single person who bought that game does not need to be convinced that persona 5 is a good game. They already played it. That means Atlus can just fuck around and have a good time, and man did they have a good time. There’s still scenes that still shock me if i think about it too hard, because i’m used to atlus having to follow this sort of rule set when it comes to persona 5 (or any of the main games im assuming, but i havent played them.) And on top of that, there’s still shit that’s Atlus Trademarked Branded in a good way. The style of story of story telling, and revealing the mystery that is so integral to what p5 is, is still there. 

So, to make this even a little bit comprehensible, i will make a list! 

First of all, What is this game?

In short, this game is an OVA of an anime. It’s bonus side content that has one thing in mind: to showcase these lovable characters more by putting them in fun situations. That’s it, and it is just phenomenal. That was the main point of, i’d say, like forty hours of the game. It’s just fun times with fun characters. 

But to get deeper of what i think is happening, or what they were thinking during the development, is that this is a second opportunity. Persona 5 (as we all know) had a lot of problems, and we were not quiet about those problems. We yelled it all out, made posts, made complaints on every social media platform ever. And Atlus heard all of them, and Strikers is a way to mitigate those mistakes. Aside from being a fun OVA, Strikers also works to be a deeper exploration of these characters—more specifically, the characters that did not receive much in the original game. Creating this sequel is having the ability to redo what they felt (or to be more specific, we felt) in the original game while adding new ones. I will get to that in a second.  

The format of the game 

Absolutely brilliant to throw them on a road trip. P5V already forced us to experience Shibuya for 200+ hours, and im so glad that they didn’t do that again. Going from town to town, making us experience these new places alongside our favorite characters is so good, and it just makes sense. It’s fun, it’s lighthearted, and it’s actually shockingly good. But one thing i do want to talk about early on is the way the story unfolds and the villains that they use, and what they do with it because it’s very interesting. 

So as we explore japan and stuff, we encounter jails, and with those jails comes an antagonist. This antagonist works to be a parallel to one of our characters. That character will find it in their hearts to feel bad for the antagonist, because the antagonist could have been them had the original game not happen. At first I thought all of the thieves were gonna get an antagonist, and i was really hyped for the ryuji one. And then came to hour forty of the game where i realized “yeah that’s not gonna happen. There’s just not enough time.” And i was right, and the game ended. But i am not salty at all, honestly, because the people who got a direct antagonist were: Ann, Yusuke, and Haru. (we wont count zen and sophie). 

Is there a trend??? Yes. these are all characters in the original game that have received the worst treatment by atlus. The three of them are basically cast aside the minute they finished their original arc, and its horrible! BUT that’s why this is the path that atlus chose for them—to give them more depth, and screentime, and a way to show their inner self. That isn’t to say that the ones who aren’t those three (makoto, futaba, mona, akira, ryuji) didn’t get anything. Futaba still has her thing at the end with ichinose, and she was very prevalent and animated during the rest of the game. Mona and Akira have to be a focal points, that’s just the nature of the game. The other two though, I will talk about in depth in a second.  

Makoto

Y’all i poke fun at shumako fans sometimes cause its kind of easy and fun, but i honestly love makoto. In my very first playthrough of p5 (my first ever jrpg game, first persona game, i had no idea what i was doing), i had only maxed out two characters: ryuji and makoto. And i know she had a lot of screentime and love in the original game which is great, but i truly felt like she was dissed in this game. Her only roles were

A driver

Someone to tell them “we don’t have a choice. Let’s keep going and see where this takes us.” (seriously, if you replay this game, you will see how much she does this)

Idk, i just wish she had more to do, especially compared to how much love they gave the other characters. 

But let’s talk about some of the new characters! 

Zenkichi

Damn you atlus. Damn you and your insistence at bringing in cop characters. I was fully on board with hating zenkichi, i was fucking ready for it. I was convinced that there was nothing they could do convince to like zenkichi. I was immune to their copaganda. 

And then i ended up loving him, which makes me sad a little bit. I didn’t realize how desperate i was to have an adult who has a persona. Someone who wants the world to change just as much as they do, while still having that aspect of them that makes them adult. Like??? As someone who is technically an adult, its a breath of fresh air. An adult. Who fights. For justice. Using a persona. And god i love akane so much, and her obsession with the thieves (that scene is probably in my top ten fave scenes of the game). Also what i loved about zenkichi is that he fucking hates the cops!! He hates the system of the cops!! And thats why i actually really started to love him!! Because i thought it was atlus saying that the systematic problem of the police cannot be solved by one person, and zenkichi threw away his badge. I actually cried at that part!! 

But then he became a cop again, and i was just :/ but as a character, i really love him to bits and would love to do a study on him, or at least use him as an outside pov. But! i absolutely love his persona, since im a les miserables fan hehe

Sophia 

she’s probably my favorite new aspect of the game. I was ready to not like her—again, i just suck like that, lmfao—and when i saw her, i was scared that she was just another waifu. I mean, she was very cute after all. But then as the game went on, i thought she was a little too cute. And even further into the game, i finally slapped myself in the face and realized oh my god shes not a waifu. Shes a sister. 

That blew my mind, im ngl to you. A female character that isn’t supposed to be romanced? By jove, what a miracle! 

And she…is an amazing character. Im sorry, i just love her so much. I love her so much that she  probably ranks as my fifth or sixth favorite character which is surprising even to me. Everything about her is delightful and invigorating. She’s funny??? Her comedic timing is amazing, and she has such chemistry with the rest of the team. She’s actually useful to the plot, and while her character design is a little too on the nose for me in terms of cuteness (i mean, good god she’s wearing oversized sweater to show how cute and tiny she is, and her hair has literal hearts in it), she is absolutely lovable. 

But what i actually really wanna gush about for a second is sophia at the last stage of the game. You get the idea, i dont really like to get excited over things, so at this point i figured that there was nothing this game could do to shock me. 

And then sophia had a persona awakening. 

Like. holy fuck did i yell. I didnt realize what was happening until the music had already kicked in. and its just so fucking smart!!! Sophia??? The ai?? With no heart?? gOT A PERSONA???? AWAKENING??? BECAUSE SHE LEARNED WHAT THE HEART IS AND THE PASSION THAT YOU NEED IN ORDER TO GET A PERSONA??? I started crying honestly, because it was just so smart. And looking back on it now, its obvious!! Of course it would lead to this, it only made sense that the culmination of her character arc leads to her getting a persona, nothing else would have been as good. Also, her voice actor is just amazing?? When she was talking to ichinose at the end, i actually got incredibly emotional because of the line reads. Its just so spot on and it really captures the essence of sophia.

Muah. five stars Atlus. You got me. 

Ryuji <3!!!!

Oh man. Oh boy. Okay. so where do i start. 

Yall know i love him. Hes probably my favorite fictional male character of all time, and he is the one i was the absolute most cynical about in this game. I was expecting literally nothing. Nothing. Like. nothing. I thought he was just gonna keep being used as a joke, or a gag, and he’s gonna be super horny all the time for the other girls and it was gonna make me mad and there was gonna be some insane homophobic/queerphobic jokes in every other scene and i know i was being unfair, but i cant help it. 

And then i played the first two hours of the game, and i cried the entire time. Because ryuji has never been better than he is in this game. Its crazy. 

The ryuji in persona 5 strikers is who ryuji should have been/how he should have been treated this entire time. From the actual funny jokes (for example, the gold bar joke + his reaction to it in the beginning of the game), defending his female friends instead of being the one people need to defend from (natsume arc), and the fact that he was the one to be there with morgana and akira in the very beginning of the game. Its such a small thing that they didnt even need to do, but it was such an integral part of the original game for me, that i just was convinced that nothing like this was going to happen. But then it happened. Its just small stuff like that that could have been overlooked but it wasn’t because this game? Persona 5 strikers? Fucking loves ryuji. 

The actual respect they gave this boy is insane and i wasn't ready for it. Like, they gave the shujin trio lunch, they gave the little charm of the katana when they were in natsume’s jail, and, in my opinion this is the second-best thing that they could have given ryuji is sophia. Ryuji and sophia are the pinnacle of a brother & sister bonding relationship in the game that isn’t akira & futaba. And its really prevalent too?? Small stuff from the beginning of the game (pulling her out of a jail, calling her shorty), but then you have the iconic “shut the fuck up” scene, and that scene was so well characterized and written and voice acted, that somehow him saying “fuck” was the least exciting part of that scene to me. Ryuji is an older brother to her, like its undoubtable, and its only further cemented at the end of the game where Ryuji helps out ichinose because he knows how much sophia cares about her. This game. Love ryuji. And i love. This game. 

You know what else i love? Akiryu. 

Guys. i was fully prepared to starve in terms of akiryu. But theres just. So much of it. I wont get too deep into it, because i think this aspect of the game for me still needs marinate a little bit. Like, what was that last shot when EMMA died and Ryuji walked to approach Akira so they could relish in their victory together?? And the smile from both of them??? What the fuck. That was amazing. Also Joker being saved by Ryuji when he was about to fall from the cliff to save sophia??? WHAT. The LEADER AND HIS RIGHT HAND MAN? WHAT. anyway. If theres anything i want to keep for myself in my own brain, its the akiryu aspect of this game, so i wont talk too much about that part of things (instead, itll probably manifest in fic lmfaooo). 

Sure, there’s tidbits of stuff i dont like that they gave ryuji: sexualizing ann in that one cut scene and making him touch the jails even though it hurts, and i recognize those and frown at them, but for the most part, i am blown away with how they treated him.

Basically, Ryuji has never been better. From the opening of the game with him being the first text message and the one to sling his arm around akira, to the very last cut scene where it was ryuji wordlessly leaving because he’s so confident that they would never be separated for long, this game adores Ryuji and i am so so happy to say that.

The Royal aspect of things

Yeah, i had to talk about this, but itll be a short thing i just wanted to point out. Because the last part of this game...is persona 5 royal. Which is curious. Like taking reality and giving that power to someone else so you dont have to experience suffering anymore? And even like, the final section just looked a lot like the top half of maruki’s palace?? And whats even crazier is that we had a boss fight with sophia, just like how we had a boss fight with sumire? Royal and Strikers have like, the same thesis statement. It’s kind of uncanny.It’s interesting, it’s like atlus came up with these two ideas, and then just decided they liked both of them so much that they just did it twice. I don’t mind though—actually, in terms of how the last Palace/Jails go, i probably like them both about equally. 

Though i did love the final battle in this one more than i did in royal. Splitting into teams?? Thats cool as fuck, and really innovative and i didnt see it coming. It also kicked my ass. A lot. 

Now for the last stretch: the small stuff!

The music — bomb as fuck. In my heart, Daredevil is ranked the same as Rivers. Axe to grind is also amazing, but Daredevil owns me

Akechi — i really debated whether or not to talk about him, but i figured a bullet point should be enough. Im really shocked that he wasnt in this at all. Like not even a name drop. If this is an OVA, and the point of the game is to please the fans, and akechi is arguably the fan favorite character, i was really ready for something. But there was nothing, except for the pancake hallway if that even counts as a reference. Thats it. Thats all i wanted to say about him.

The humour — FUCKING HILARIOUS im convinced that in my fifty hour playtime, five of that is dedicated to me laughing and unable to continue the game 

Akira — so much personality! His lines of dialogue are crazy sometimes (like. Whats up with him saying Ryuji has ‘nice abs’ when they were in bath? Im crazy and even i dont know what the fuck that could mean) 

Battle system — oh my god i almost forgot to talk about this. I love it! I kind of miss the turn based aspect just because i found it very comforting for some reason, but this hack and slash style of gameplay is so invigorating because i do feel like it justifies shit like the baton pass and huge attacks.  This battle system fully encompases how the Phantom Thieves are supposed to fight, you know what i mean?

Anyway, thats my thoughts on strikers. Loved it. Amazing. 9.3/10, wouldve been higher but Konoe’s Jail almost bored me to death. Also im a monster and i didnt do any requests that isn’t a fun one, teehee. As if i play persona 5 for the persona aspect of things.

[allsassnoclass]

Kiss Me (x3)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin endgame, Luke Hemmings/Michael Clifford, Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up

Key Tags: kissing, genuinely this is just a fic about Luke kissing his bandmates

Word Count: 4,896

Read on AO3

Summary: Luke likes kissing, and he likes his bandmates, so it makes sense that he likes kissing his bandmates.

It starts because Michael is being a whiny brat.

In all honesty, it probably starts because they’re all bored, but Michael’s boredom is manifesting itself into whiny brattiness, and Luke’s boredom is manifesting itself into getting annoyed at the whiny brattiness.

The tenth time Michael heaves a sigh and complains about having nothing to do, Luke snaps.

“Will you shut up?” he asks, looking up from his phone where he had been aimlessly scrolling.  Michael is slumped on the couch, watching a rerun of some network show on TV without really watching it.  Calum and Ashton seem to actually be somewhat occupied with the show and a book respectively, but Luke has seen Ashton’s grip on his book tighten with every complaint out of Michael’s mouth, so at least Luke isn’t alone in his annoyance.

“Make me,” Michael snaps.

“Yeah, make him,” Calum says absentmindedly.  He’s got the patience of a saint when it comes to Michael, probably from building an immunity given their years of friendship, but Luke doesn’t appreciate this new team they’ve made right now.

“Fine,” Luke says.  He stands, and Michael raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.  Luke considers for a second, but honestly?  He’s pretty sure half of Michael’s problem is that he hasn’t had a girlfriend in a while, and therefore has no place to put his bottled up romantic/sexual tension.

“If I kiss you will you shut up?” he asks.

“I thought we were suggesting realistic options,” Ashton says, not looking up from his book.  Luke flips him off anyway.

“You won’t,” Michael says.

“Oh yeah?” Luke asks.  “If I do, will you shut up?”

“Fine.  But you won’t.”

Michael’s claim is not baseless.  They’ve teased each other a lot, but have never actually kissed before.  However, no other instances had included a whiny Michael and a Luke who is feeling a little bored and a little reckless and a little kiss-deprived himself.  As such, he marches over to Michael, puts one hand on the back of the couch to brace himself and one on Michael’s jaw to keep him still, leans in, and plants one on him.  Just like that.

It turns out that kissing your bandmate is easy once you actually put your mind to it.

The kiss is short, just a peck more than anything, but Michael looks shell-shocked when Luke leans back.  He blinks, eyes wide, then opens his mouth to say something.  Luke holds up a finger.

“Ah!  You said you’d shut up!”

Michael closes his mouth with a click.  Luke has never felt this powerful before.  He can feel Calum and Ashton staring at him, but he doesn’t spare them a glance, wanting to preserve the moment for as long as possible.  He just sits back down and picks up his phone again.  After a long moment Calum turns back to the show, but when Luke glances up Ashton is still watching him.  He returns to his phone and tries to hide his satisfied smile, okay with the weight of Ashton’s gaze.

The afternoon is quiet.  Luke keeps thinking about Michael’s lips, chapped and warm.

He’s really missed kissing.  Maybe he doesn’t have to anymore.

-/-

“Listen,” Luke says to Michael later, when they’re getting ready for bed even though Michael will probably stay up for at least another hour.  “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, but I really miss kissing people.  You obviously haven’t kissed anyone in a while, either.  I’m just saying that it could be mutually beneficial.”

Michael squints at him.  He hasn’t outright said no, so Luke has already gotten further than he thought he would.

“Just kissing?” he asks.

“Yeah.  I like kissing, you like kissing, it’s a win-win situation.”

Michael considers for another minute.  Luke stands his ground.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Michael shrugs.  “You said it.  I miss kissing.”

“Sweet.”

Michael blinks at him.  Luke blinks back.

“Well?” Michael asks.

“Why do I have to get up?” Luke says.  Michael rolls his eyes.

“Because you’re the one who suggested it?”

Luke rolls his eyes right back, but he gets up and moves towards Michael, sitting down on his bed this time so they’re on the same level at least.  Michael turns, tucking one of his legs underneath him so they can fully face each other, and Luke puts his hands securely on his shoulders and leans in.

Luke likes this kiss better than the first one.  Michael’s lips are a little tacky because he just put on chapstick, but he leans into it, meeting Luke step for step.  His hands eventually land on Luke’s waist, unfamiliar there but not unwelcome, and Luke doesn’t mind when their noses bump.  He doesn’t mind Michael’s breath puffing against his lips or the barest hint of tongue that sneaks into the kiss.

When they finally lean back, Luke is grinning.  Michael is, too.  Luke presses another quick kiss to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Mikey,” he says, sliding off the bed and to his feet.

“Night, Luke.  See you tomorrow.”

Luke falls asleep with a smile on his face and a new plan forming in his head.

-/-

Luke greets Michael the next morning with a kiss in the kitchen.  Michael doesn’t flinch away, much too used to Luke being in his space, but Luke watches his mind wake up a bit and figure out why Luke is suddenly kissing him.  Once he remembers their talk the night before, he smiles.

“What’s this?” Ashton asks from his spot at the table, frowning.  Luke almost hadn’t noticed him, which is a crime because Ashton is the type of person who somehow always looks amazing in the morning.

“Michael and I kiss each other now,” Luke shrugs.  Ashton’s frown deepens, if possible.

“You’re dating?”

“Nope, just kissing,” Luke says, getting down a mug for his coffee.

“Luke’s a pretty good kisser.  You should try it,” Michael says, voice gravely from sleep.

“Do you want to?” Luke asks Ashton, probably a little too enthusiastically.  He’s content enough getting to lock lips with Michael, but Michael’s not going to be around wanting kisses all the time, and Ashton is a great kisser.  Luke knows that he is, because every partner Ashton has ever had always seems a little dazed when he’s accidentally walked in on them making out.

This has nothing to do with Luke’s crush on Ashton, a persistent and annoying thing that he has successfully managed to regulate to the back of his mind in the past few months.

“No,” Ashton says.  “I’m going outside.”

He takes his plate of toast and heads for the door.  Luke shrugs off his disappointment and turns back to Michael.

“Oh well,” Michael says.  “You could always try to get Calum.”

“I might,” Luke says.  Calum seems like he’d be a great kisser, too.  Luke’s really lucky to be in a band of great kissers.  “Hey, do you want to make out after we brush our teeth?”

Michael grins and tugs Luke closer to kiss his cheek.

Luke is a genius.  This is the best idea he’s ever had.

-/-

“Listen,” Luke says, lounging on the couch with Calum on the other side.  He kicks him in the thigh to ensure that he’s listening, and Calum grabs his ankle and tugs him further down the couch so he can effectively trap his legs.  Luke’s not mad about it.

“You know how Michael and I are kissing now?”

“Yeah,” Calum says.  “I’m a better kisser than Mike, by the way.  You chose the wrong bandmate.”

“Prove it,” Luke says.  Calum narrows his eyes.  “Michael won’t be mad, or anything.  We’re not exclusive and there’s no feelings involved.  It’s just for fun.  I’m just saying, you could get in on this.”

Calum considers for a moment.  Luke’s got him hook, line, and sinker.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks.

“Free smooches whenever you want them.  I’ll even wear good-tasting chapstick for you.”

Calum tugs him forward again, and this time Luke goes willingly.

Kissing Calum is different from kissing Michael, obviously, because they’re different people.  Calum puts his hands in Luke’s hair and takes a bit more control of the kiss.  His lips are fuller and he’s not shy and he tastes different.  Not better or worse, just different.  Luke is thrilled at this turn of events.

For a first kiss, it’s not bad.  Not bad at all.

“Cool,” Luke grins when they lean back.

“Cool,” Calum says, amused, and pulls him back in.

-/-

Luke has never been kissed this much in his life, and he’s absolutely loving it.  He likes kissing, and he likes his bandmates, so it makes sense that he would like kissing his bandmates, but he didn’t anticipate liking it this much.  He gets good morning kisses and good night kisses every day, sometimes from Calum, sometimes from Michael, sometimes from both.  He gets kissed at lunch and while chilling in the living room and sometimes he gets to make out with one of the boys on one of their beds.

He likes making out best.  There’s nothing like kissing someone continuously simply because he wants to, both of them pressed close, hands wandering but not too far, lips maybe straying a bit but always coming back, wasting hours away at a time in the sensations until his lips are too dry and tingly to continue.  So many of his previous partners saw making out as a precursor to something else, but Michael and Calum aren’t like that.  He likes that they both appreciate kissing as much as he does.  He likes that once they’re done, they go back to being best friends and teasing each other and saying stupid things.

Luke has to buy so much chapstick.  There has never been a more worthy investment.

Michael and Calum approach making out differently, which is really cool.  Michael is playful, bruising Luke’s lips with little bites and keeping things fun.  He teases a lot, but the payoff is sweet.  He likes putting a hand on the back of Luke’s neck, thumb resting on the soft patch of skin behind his ear, and it makes him shiver.  Luke loves every tickling butterfly kiss and the way Michael gasps and laughs when Luke has enough of the teasing and pins him down.  He loves how familiar Michael is and how sometimes he’ll break the kiss in the middle to say some random thing he remembered he wanted to tell Luke.

Calum really likes to take his time.  He’s great at long, slow kisses that leave Luke feeling a little weak in the knees, and his hands are a grounding weight wherever they end up.  He’s thorough and intentional, and he never pushes things rougher but smiles when Luke does.  Luke discovered that threading his fingers through Calum’s hair and scratching the back of his scalp makes him gasp, and he loves the feeling of Calum lax and boneless against him as much as he loves the feeling of Calum caging him in on top of him or pinning him to the wall for a quick kiss that turns into minutes that turns into way too long for two people simply passing each other in the hallway.

Luke just really loves kissing.  He especially loves the casual cheek and forehead kisses that they’ve gotten in the habit of pressing into each other’s skin.  When Luke leaves a room, he likes saying goodbye with a quick peck to Calum’s cheek and a kiss to the top of Michael’s head, a small way to remind them that he likes them without interrupting whatever they’re doing.  Michael and Calum have started doing it back and doing it to each other, too.  It makes Luke happy.  It makes Luke wonder if Michael and Calum are making out with each other, too, and he kind of hopes that they are.  He wants them both to have that wonderful experience.

The only person who doesn’t seem to like the arrangement is Ashton.  Luke has been on cloud nine since he started getting kissed regularly; it’s even difficult to be grumpy in the morning when his two best friends are there to kiss him awake.  Calum and Michael have been in similarly high spirits.  Ashton, though, has taken to stomping around the house like a toddler.  He’s rarely chirpy anymore and things only get worse if he sees Luke kiss one of the others.

Luke doesn’t like being on the receiving end of Ashton’s glare.  He doesn’t like it at all, especially when Ashton’s smile makes him feel fuzzy.  This is the opposite, and it makes him feel the opposite.

Maybe Ashton’s jealous.  It’s the only thing he can think of, because Ashton hasn’t gotten kissed in a long time, either, and Luke, Calum, and Michael getting their fill probably makes it seem like they’re rubbing it in his face.  If Luke was kiss-deprived and saw his best friends making out, he’d probably be annoyed, too.  He can’t think of any other reason Ashton might be in such a foul mood, because things are typically fine if it’s just the two of them hanging out, and Calum and Michael have said the same thing.

There’s an easy way to fix this.  Luke just hopes Ashton will say yes.

-/-

“Listen,” Luke says, standing in the doorway to Ashton’s room.  It’s been hard to get him alone, but Ashton retreated back to his bedroom for some privacy half an hour ago.  Luke hopes he doesn’t mind the interruption, but Ashton looks refreshed and recharged and he’s not frowning or sighing heavily, so that’s a good sign.

“What?” he sighs.  Maybe Luke spoke too soon.

“Do you want to kiss me?” he blurts.  Ashton’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want to kiss me,” Luke repeats.  “You’ve been in such a bad mood lately.  Is it because I’ve been kissing Michael and Calum but no one is kissing you?  Because I’d really like to kiss you, and that seems like a good solution.  None of us are dating so no one would mind.  I promise I’m a good kisser.”

Ashton purses his lips and sits up.  Luke has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Ashton says flatly.  Luke ignores how much it stings.  “I only kiss partners or the occasional one night stand, and I don’t kiss people who are just going to turn around and make out with someone else the second I’m gone.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Luke says quietly.  Ashton sighs again.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he says.  “What you’re doing is fine, and you’re obviously enjoying yourself, so have fun.  Don’t ask me to be part of it, though.  I like kisses to mean something, and you can’t give me that.  It doesn’t make either of us a bad person, it just makes us incompatible.”

Luke looks down at his socks.  This is awful.  He should’ve let Ashton stay grumpy instead of trying to fix it.  Grumpy Ashton is better than grumpy Ashton who is also making Luke feel bad.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Ashton says, tone gentler.  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but inviting me to join your little kissing group isn’t the way to do it.  I don’t really want a no-strings-attached thing right now, and I don’t think I could see someone who already has multiple partners.  It would make me feel like I’m not enough.”

“That’s not how Cal, Mike, and I work,” Luke says.  “If anything, I feel closer to both of them.  More appreciated.”

Ashton shrugs and looks away.  He’s starting to fold in on himself, like he’s trying to hide from Luke.  Luke hates it.

“That’s good for you,” Ashton says.  “I don’t think I can work like that, though.  At least not right now.  I already like someone and if we were to get involved with another person, I’d want it to be a decision we make together.  Something that we both agree to.  I wouldn’t want them to have someone separate from me, I’d want us to do it together with the knowledge that we still fully have each other.  I just-- I can’t start out like that, with them already involved with someone.  Not how things are now.”

Luke swallows and nods slowly.

“You… like someone?” he asks.  Ashton looks down at his hands.

“Yeah,” he says.  “I do.”

“Okay,” Luke says, trying to swallow the sting again.  This isn’t about him.  This is about Ashton looking small and miserable right now.   “Do you… why haven’t you asked them out yet?  Do you want me to help?  I can be your wingman, or something.”

“No, Luke.  I don’t think it’s going to work out with me and him.”

“Why not?”

Ashton stands, finally looking at him again.

“Because he keeps kissing my bandmates.”

Luke stares at him, words not quite processing.  He blinks.  The corner of Ashton’s mouth turns up, and he crosses the room, stopping right in front of Luke.  Luke’s heart is thudding.  He’s not sure if he’s breathing.  He’s not sure of a lot of things, actually, but he’s especially not sure of what’s going on.

Ashton leans forward and for a wild second Luke thinks he’s going to do it, that he’s going to kiss him after detailing all of the reasons he wouldn’t, but he presses warm, gentle lips to Luke’s cheek instead.  It’s devastating.

“I’m going for a walk.  See you at dinner,” Ashton says, still standing far too close.  Luke manages to nod, and then Ashton is gone, leaving behind a lot of confusion and the lingering ghost of a kiss.

-/-

“So,” Luke says.  “Ashton said he likes me.”

“That’s good,” Michael says, fiddling with a thread on his bedspread.  It’s been bothering him, and Luke has considered getting scissors to cut it, but it’s probably a good thing that Michael’s fingers are occupied right now.  “It’d suck to be friends with someone who doesn’t like you.”

“No, like… like likes me.  Romantically.  I’m pretty sure.”  Luke hugs a pillow to his chest.  Michael glances up at him.

“You’re pretty sure?”

Luke shrugs.  “He said that he likes someone, and that that person has been kissing his bandmates.  I guess it could be you or Calum instead.”

“Nah, Ashton wouldn’t say it like that if it was one of us,” Michael says.  “He wouldn’t try to confuse you.  Besides, Cal and I don’t really kiss in front of him.  We keep it in the bedroom, like respectable people.”

“Hey, I’m respectable,” Luke says.

“You tell yourself that the next time your tongue is down my throat in the kitchen.”

Luke bites his lip, and maybe something about the silence feels too heavy, because Michael looks up at him.

“Are we… not going to do that anymore?” he asks.

“Ashton doesn’t want to date someone who is already kissing other people, and I really like him, Mike.  I have for a while.”

“I know,” Michael says.  He’d found a way to weasel the secret out of Luke a long time ago, back when Luke was worse at hiding it.  It’s one of the reasons Luke is having this conversation with Michael rather than with Calum, although Calum definitely figured it out, too.

“That’s okay,” Michael says.  He sounds a little disappointed, but not too much.  It makes Luke feel better, because he’s a little sad, too, but he doesn’t want Michael to be unhappy.  “I can kiss Calum instead.  He actually offered me a blowjob the other day, which you would never do, so he’s already got a leg up on you.”

“Shut up,” Luke says, hitting him with the pillow.  Michael laughs and grabs it, throwing it out of Luke’s reach.

“Wait,” Luke asks.  “Did he really?”

Michael shrugs.  “It was one of those things he says as a joke, you know?  But he didn’t really seem like he was joking this time.  I kind of don’t want him to be.”

“So you two might be full-on friends with benefits?” Luke asks.  Michael shrugs again.

“Maybe.  We’ll see what happens, I guess.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing we’re stopping, then,” Luke says.  “Ash and I can figure our stuff out, and you two can figure your stuff out without having to factor in another person.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Michael says.  He’s picking at the bedspread again, shoulders slumped, so Luke cups his jaw and kisses him.  It’s been weeks since their first kiss and Michael knows what to do, hands familiar on Luke’s back, tugging him closer.  For a split second, Luke wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

“I’m going to miss this,” Luke murmurs when they part, not bothering to go far.

“Me too,” Michael says.  “But we’re still best friends, and that’s what matters.  We’ll still mess around and write music and cuddle.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, heart a little bit lighter.  “You’re right.”

Michael pulls him in again.  It’s bittersweet, but as far as goodbye kisses go, it’s not bad.

-/-

Calum takes the news about as well as Michael does.  He understands, just like Luke knew he would, and they spend a long time making out in the way Calum likes until Michael knocks and says it’s time for dinner.

That one isn’t a bad goodbye kiss, either.  Luke thinks he’s allowed to be a little sad, but Calum slings an arm around his shoulder as they walk to the kitchen and tells him a really bad joke to make him feel better.  It reminds him that he’s not saying goodbye to their friendship, and he’ll get kisses and a lot more with Ashton in exchange for stopping the kisses with Calum and Michael.  Besides, Michael kisses his cheek later on instinct when he leaves the living room, and Luke thinks that’s okay.  Ashton can’t be upset at something harmlessly platonic like that, and it makes everything feel a little less heavy.

Keeping those kisses, however, means that Ashton doesn’t pick up on the fact that Luke isn’t kissing the others on the lips.  Luke doesn’t know how to bring it up to him, because hey I broke up with our bandmates for you but it wasn’t really a breakup because we weren’t dating but it did kind of feel like a breakup except not because we’re still friends probably isn’t the best thing to lead with.  However, when he’s still kissing Calum and Michael on their cheek or the top of the head or even occasionally the back of the hand, he’s not sure Ashton is realizing that the lips are now an off-limits zone for them.

It’s kind of killing him.  He wants to be Ashton’s boyfriend, but he doesn’t know how to make that leap.  If they were officially dating, Ashton would be next to Luke on the couch right now instead of sequestered to the armchair.  They could be cuddling.  Luke could brush that stray lock of hair out of his eyes.  He could maybe, finally, figure out what it’s like to kiss him.

This movie is boring.  Luke knows that Ashton thinks so, too, because he’s been fiddling with his phone for most of it.  The other two are enraptured, but Luke is starting to get restless and he’s annoyed that he has neither a boyfriend nor free reign to kiss his friends and he’s ready to do something about it.

“I’m going to my room,” he says, standing up and stretching.  He kisses Calum’s cheek and leans over him to get to Michael’s temple.  As he’s rounding the couch, though, he pauses.

He really wants to kiss Ashton.  It doesn’t even have to be on the lips.  He wants to kiss Ashton’s cheek and nose and forehead and palm.  While he’s not allowed to kiss him on the lips yet, maybe one of those would be okay.  Ashton is the one who kissed him on the cheek last time, anyway.

Before he can second-guess, he leans over the back of the armchair and kisses the top of Ashton’s head.  Ashton blinks up at him.  Luke doesn’t know how to describe his expression, but he wants Ashton to look at him like that all the time.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks quietly.  Ashton glances at their friends, then nods and follows him to his room, closing the door behind them.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“I’m not kissing Calum and Michael anymore,” Luke says.  “Not on the lips, I mean.  I talked to them a week ago.  I still want to kiss them on the cheek and stuff, platonically of course, but if you don’t want me to I can stop, because I really like you, Ashton, and I have for a long time, and I really want to be your boyfriend, and kiss you, and do a million other boyfriend things with you and… yeah.  I like you.”

Ashton blinks at him.  Luke bites his lip and waits.

“Oh,” Ashton says.  “Of course you can keep kissing them on the cheek.  You don’t have to-- I wasn’t expecting you to talk to stop your…” he waves his hand around.  “Thing.  I don’t know what you guys have been calling it.”

“You said you don’t want to kiss someone who is kissing other people, too,” Luke says.  “I want you.  I’ve had a crush on you for forever.  You can ask Michael if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh,” Ashton repeats.  “Are you sure?  I don’t want you to regret this if you want to continue with Michael and Calum.”

“I’m sure,” Luke says.  “Honestly, I’ll miss kissing them a bit, because they’re great kissers, and I do love them, but I’m in love with you.  I want something with you.”

“Oh,” Ashton says again, but it sounds different this time.  It sounds important.  It sounds like the fuzzy feeling Luke gets when Ashton smiles at him.

“I’d like that,” Ashton says.  He smiles, then laughs, giddy and joyful.  “I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” Luke grins.  “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Ashton nods.  There’s only one thing Luke can do in response.

Kissing Ashton is different from kissing Michael and Calum, and Luke loves it.  He loves that Ashton doesn’t have expectations, and he loves the way he pulls Luke closer until there’s no room between them.  When Luke puts a hand on Ashton’s lower back and lets the other tangle in his hair, Ashton melts.  Luke wants to sink into him, and when they part Ashton buries his face in the crook of Luke’s shoulder and holds him for a long, long time.

As far as first kisses go, it’s not bad.  In fact, it’s pretty fucking fantastic.

-/-

It turns out that dating Ashton is just as good as Luke imagined.  He gets good morning and good night kisses, and he gets kissed at lunch and while he’s chilling in the living room and they make out on each other’s beds.  On top of that, Luke gets more cuddles, more quality time, and sometimes Ashton will look at him so fondly Luke thinks he’s going to combust.  Dating Ashton is a wonderful new world, and Luke has loved every discovery.

Michael and Calum tease them relentlessly.  They’ve been spending a lot of time behind closed doors together and Luke has caught them cuddling more or walking around with pinkies hooked together.  Sometimes he misses the closeness that kissing gave them all, especially now that Calum and Michael seem to have something that he’s not part of, but they still kiss his cheek when they pass him and it makes him happy each time.  Ashton smiles each time it happens, too.

“Alright,” Michael says, shoving his feet into his shoes.  “Calum and I are going to the shops.  You guys need anything?”

“Take the list on the fridge,” Ashton says from his spot pressed to Luke’s side.  He’s reading a book over Luke’s shoulder, a fantasy selection that Luke’s mum sent, but Luke is having trouble focusing with Ashton’s chin on his shoulder.

Michael redirects to the kitchen to get the list, and Calum appears to give Luke his routine kiss on the top of his head.

“Hey, where’s mine?” Ashton asks.  Calum pauses.

“You want one?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says.  Calum shrugs and kisses the top of Ashton’s head.

“Oh, are we kissing Ashton now, too?” Michael asks, reappearing.  “Fuck yeah! It’s about time he got with the program.”

“Hey,” Ashton protests.  Michael leans over the couch to press a smacking kiss to his cheek, then miscalculates with Luke and ends up kissing his eyebrow instead of any normal part of his face.

“Okay, love you, bye!” Michael says while everyone laughs at him.  Luke sees him take Calum’s hand before the door closes behind them.

Luke kisses Ashton’s cheek.  Ashton looks at him fondly and gently knocks their heads together.  It makes Luke want to do something drastic, like learn how to fly.  He feels on top of the world.  He feels like things are working out, not just between him and Ashton or between Michael and Calum, but with all of them together.

Ashton kisses him again, and Luke knows that it’s one of a million more kisses that he’ll get.  He’s never going to be kiss-deprived again, and he’s loving it.

[pinkyhim]

Saved pt.6

Cat!Jimin x Brat Bunny!Jungkook x Human!Reader

part 1      part 2      part 3      part 4     part 5    part 7

Warnings- Swearing

Fluff

drama/angst

Y/N= Your name L/N= Your last name F/N= Your first name

Authors note- Hope you guys enjoy part 6! <3 I apologize for the long wait ;c Sorry for any grammar errors :o (Just ask if you want to be added to the tag list!)

Summary ~  Y/N comes home one day to find that her apartment has been robbed, scared of it ever happening again she decides to adopt hybrids Jimin and Jungkook

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I gazed blankly at the two men standing in front of me. My face painted a deep frown.

"Well hope you have a great rest of your day Miss L/N," The man in the suit said before bowing and leaving,

I softly shut the door before sliding down burying my face in my hands my breathing getting unstable,

Fuck, fuck, fuck I thought the words the man said repeating in my head like a mantra,

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Jimin's loving voice breaking my resolve as I let the first few tears glide down my flushed face, I quickly wiped them away not wanting to worry the two hybrids who were watching me curiously,

"Y-Yeah I'm fine," I say standing up suddenly trying my best to not let my voice shake,

Much to my despair, they both seemed to notice that something was off about me,

"Y/N who was that?" Jungkook asked his voice soft but firm,

"N-Nobody," I respond avoiding their piercing gazes,

They didn't seem convinced with my answer but they didn't push any further, seeing how nervous and fidgety I was being,

"You guys should go to eat breakfast..." I mumble lowly as I drag my feet to my bedroom to get ready for work,

I placed the clipboard the man gave me in my bag as I changed into my usual attire before grabbing my bag and stumbling out of my room.

"I'll be back later guys," I say putting on my shoes,

Just as I was about to leave I felt a hand grip my wrist,

"Ji-" I was surprised to see that Jungkook was the one who was holding onto me as he usually wasn't very comfortable with human contact,

"Oh, Jungkook?" I say confused at the bunny's actions,

"Please get home safe Y/N," Jungkook mumbled as his face was flushed a beet red as he avoided eye contact.

I felt my heart combust as a smile crept its way to my face,

"Of course," I said before shutting the door and locking it,

As I made my way to my car I felt more of a need to keep both of them more than ever.

I can't let them take Jimin I thought, stepping into my car I gripped the steering wheel tightly at the thought of those disgusting men taking away Jimin.

In the few weeks I've known them I got attached, My mother always told me "Never get attached, nobody knows what the future holds Y/N"  I never really understood what she meant by that until now that is,

I always wanted to be a strong person, like a superhero, I used to watch cartoons when I was young, and there was a character who always seemed to know the right answer to everything. Sadly I'm just me, I'm just the person who can't even properly take care of herself let alone two hybrids, I let down a lot of people, myself being one of them.

Never in my whole life have I ever been as disappointed in me as I am now, I promised Jimin and Jungkook a home and I can't even provide that,

I pushed back the tears that threatened to leave my eyes as I arrived at the big building I called work,

I hung my head low as I entered the building, stalking over to my desk I placed my bag onto my desk and let out a huge sigh,

Seokjin who seemed more cheery than usual turned his head towards me, 

"Don't hang your head Y/N, your crown might fall off," He said giving me a wink as he spun around in his leather chair,

I cringed slightly at his comment but nonetheless it made my day a bit better,

"What's wrong Y/N?" Seokjin asked me concern laced with his voice as he sipped his latte,

In all the years I've known Seokjin, He always seemed to know when something I was down,

"I-Fuck" I said as the tears started to fall,

Seokjin's eyes went wide as he stood up almost immediately engulfing me in his arms as I silently sobbed into his arms,

He lead me outside the office as he looked at me worried,

"I-I-" I couldn't speak as months of stress came hurling down on me,

"Shh it's okay Y/N," Seokjin said stroking my hair as I tried to calm down,

When my cries finally died down to small sniffles I spoke meekly,

"Their taking Jimin," I said quietly as Seokjin's eyes went wide,

"What? Who is taking Jimin?" Seokjin questioned as he sat me down on one of the loveseats the company has in the breakroom,

"The shelter," I mumbled softly wiping the remaining tears off my face,

"Why would they do that?" Seokjin responds sitting down next to me,

I finally calmed down fully taking deep breaths as I spoke,

"Remember Calvin?" I asked as he nodded,

"The pervert furniture guy?" He exclaims as I nod.

"Apparently he contacted the shelter and said that Jimin assaulted him, so they expect me to return him in a week or they'll take him," I said sulking down in my seat,

Seokjin processed what you said before he spoke,

"I had that happen once," He says and now it was my turn to get surprised,

"Really?" I ask and he nods,

"Yoongi scratched this lady in the supermarket and a couple days later she was at my front door with a man in the suit claiming that I had to return him in a week or less," He said and I nodded listening carefully.

"How did you get them to not take Yoongi?" I asked a little puzzled,

"Well, I convinced the lady to take back the complaint," Seokjin responded as I groaned,

"How the hell am I supposed to get Calvin to take back his complaint?" I ask rubbing the bridge of my nose in distress,

"Well..." Seokjin stops himself from continuing,

"What?" I demand sitting up,

"Didn't Calvin want to go on a date with you?" Seokjin says, as soon as he sees the look on your face he instantly regrets his choice,

My face turned sour instantly at the thought of going anywhere with that shameful excuse of a human being,

"A-Are you serious right now Seokjin?" I asked him as he nods,

"Think about it Y/N, If you're able to convince him to take back the complaint you get to keep Jimin, and from what I've heard going on a date with him seems to be the only reason he would comply," Seokjin says as you let out a sound of disgust,

You hated it, You really did, the thought of going on a date with Calvin had your insides churn and not in a good way, but no matter how much you hated the thought you knew it was the only way for him to take back the complaint, and no matter how much you hated him your love for Jimin outweighed your hate,

I sighed as I knew that this was the only answer, I took my phone out and went to the Happy Homes furniture site and clicked on a tab that said, workers,

I grimaced as I scrolled through stopping on the familiar sickening face.

Seokjin leaned over my shoulder as he watched my every move,

I scrolled down a bit further and found his email and phone number in bold,

I memorized the number before going tapping it in on my phone,

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Seokjin asked concerned as I nodded before hitting the call button

It rang, exactly six times before I heard the familiar hoarse voice answer,

"Hello?"

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@ littlewolfieposts   @ forevermoremagcon @ madygswich @ jeonkooksgirl @bubbletaetaesstuff  @iloverubberduckiez-blog  @benedrylcumbersnatch​ @joyful-jimin​

[astralaffairs]

put a ring on it 03 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

words: 11k 🤪

warnings: rlly none! hectic families, stupid pet names, uncomfy emotions, compromising positions. also dont any of u dare get as close to another human as is depicted here anytime soon. pls flatten the curve. social distancing is cool i swear.

a/n: lmao remember on part 2 when i said i wouldn’t take as long to update this time? here we are, almost exactly a year later, even tho i wrote 8k words of this in the past couple days. enjoy!!! better late than never ig.

desc: You’ve never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you’re roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers @tf2germanvillain @ela-ena @abundant-stars @heytheredee-lilah @abovethyfold - lmk if you want to be added; sorry if i missed anyone!!

Philip had brought you coffee without you asking.

It was mid-morning after your shower; the carpet of Philip's room was soft under your feet as you grabbed your phone off the marble countertop of his sink, just enjoying the peaceful silence. You scrolled briefly through your texts, smiling as you declined an offer for a manufactured emergency from Patsy (not before you seriously considered it, though). You slid it into your back pocket before padding down the stairs to find wherever Philip had gotten off to.

And thus, you were met with the distinctly strong smell of coffee.

Your footsteps stalled only a moment. You furrowed your brow; the corners of your lips quirked as you continued into his kitchen. You found him sitting at the end of the table opposite where you stood, glasses pushed down the bridge of his nose, reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from a paper cup. Your smile grew as he didn't even realize you were there; you leaned forward, resting on the chair nearest you as you bit your lip.

"Hey." Your voice was soft as he looked up, giving you a soft smile as he met your eyes.

"Morning, princess," he hummed, taking another sip from his cup as he eyed you, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well." Your yawn came through in your voice despite your words, and he nodded, averting his eyes back to his paper. Neither of you dared mention how you'd woken up tangled in each other, your legs intertwined with his, hands in his hair and with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, your head against his bare chest. Instead, you broke the silence with, "So, you gonna share any of that coffee with me, Hamilton? Or were you just gonna ignore these bags under my eyes?"

You pointed to yourself with mock annoyance, and he chuckled, putting down the newspaper. "What, you don't think I picked up anything for my girlfriend?" He raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes, slumping into the seat opposite him.

"Oh yeah? What'd you get me?" Your tone was flat as you pinned him with a skeptical stare. He only grinned, leaning back and grabbing another paper cup from the counter behind him. You raised your eyebrows, eyes widening in the slightest. It probably shouldn't have come as a shock to you, but you couldn't help your surprise at the gesture.

He chuckled at your expression. "I can't believe you'd underestimate me like this." He put a hand on his heart with a mock pout as he passed the coffee across the table to you, and you took a seat, rolling your eyes.

"What's the catch?" you asked dryly.

"Does there have to be a catch?"

"Last time you brought me coffee I ended up here." You raised your eyebrows, looking at him knowingly, and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, I get it. Point made." He grinned as he reached again behind him, grabbing a small brown bag and holding it out to you by its rolled opening. "But I brought you a croissant to make up for it."

Your eyebrows shot up when you saw the other bag, eyes widening in the least. "Coffee and food? Now there's definitely something up." You shot him a questioning look, and his obvious self-content didn't waver.

"Think of it as a "thank you'." Your skepticism far from dissipated, but something in the soft smile he wore made you take the bag from him with no further questions, a soft smile of your own gracing your lips.

You breathed in the warm, sweet air from the bag as you opened it, sighing at the smell of the croissant. As you broke a piece of it off, you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "So anyway, where's your family? House seems eerily empty."

He chuckled, raking a hand through his loose curls. "Yeah, it is. My siblings are all still at school for the next couple hours, and Mom and Pops are out getting breakfast with the Lafayettes. Said something about wanting to 'give the happy couple some time to themselves'."

You rolled your eyes. "So no one else is home?"

"So we're finally alone." He wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you scoffed.

"Just 'cause you brought me a croissant doesn't mean I'm about to jump your bones, Hamilton. Don't get your hopes up," you informed him dryly, but his amused grin didn't waver.

"Since we have the day free, though," he continued just as brightly, ignoring your unimpressed expression, "I figured I'd show you around the town a little, take you a few of the places I used to go."

You raised a brow. "Oh, yeah? I'm getting the grand tour?" A smile had at that point worked it's way back into your expression, sitting slightly lopsided as it played at your lips, though you tried to contain it. "Where are you gonna take me, Hamilton?"

His grin grew at your words, taking another sip of his coffee to hide his self-content. "You'll see."

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

"Where are we going?" you groaned as he tugged you around another corner in the quaint downtown of his small city. His grin never faltered; he seemed very much to have a set agenda. There were people and places he wanted to see. Seeing as this was his family reunion weekend, you couldn't have blamed him.

"C'mon, we're on the block now," he assured you, pulling you along in his haste to find the little storefront, wondering if it had yet changed the aging display in its frosted glass windows. You scoffed audibly, and he let out a little laugh. "What, don't believe me?"

"You'll forgive me for not trusting the eighth time you've told me we were almost there," you said dryly, letting him pull you along regardless. He shot you a look over his shoulder.

"No need to exaggerate, princess."

"Don't think I haven't been counting, Hamilton," you shot back, giving him a pointed look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Just come on."

You (grudgingly) allowed him to drag you along three more blocks, unsure what had overtaken you -- your feet were getting sore, your stomach was starting to cramp (you needed to work out more), and you really just wanted to sit down. Yet, something about how earnestly excited Philip was managed to keep you going, just a few more yards, just a few more yards. You tried to ignore the lopsided grin thrown over his shoulder and the teasing lilt to his voice that met your complaints.

"Here we are." He skidded to a halt in front of three stairs, a stone stoop, leading up to a glass door. You raised an eyebrow, turned your gaze to him.

"Where, exactly?"

His smile grew, and he nodded forward. "See for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as you followed him up, and he reached for the handle just before you, holding it open. You didn't acknowledge the action, just continued forward into the small shop.

It was an adorable space, dimly lit and colorful. Leafy plants spilled over from pots above the windows, contrasting with the bright red window frames on the sunny morning, interspersed with framed photos and paintings packed tightly together on the limited wall space. Soft guitar music drifted through under the buzz of chattering customers who'd arrived for their morning coffee. You could smell the coffee brewing behind the counter, the scent mixing with the sweeter one wafting from the ovens behind a swinging door.

"C'mon." You yelped in surprise as Philip's arm found its way around your waist, and he shot you an amused glance. You let him lead you forward, though, fighting the heat that began to rise in the back of your neck.

You neared the back of the store together, your gaze still wandering around the adorable coffee shop as you walked, and as the woman behind the counter caught sight of you, her eyes lit up in recognition.

"Philip!" She dropped the rag she'd been wiping her hands with onto the counter, rushing out from behind it to greet him as his arm came back around from your waist, instead pulling her into a tight embrace. You sighed internally as his warmth left your side.

"Hey, Aunt Maria," he said, grinning as he pulled back from the hug. "How've you been?"

"Worse without you," she scolded, whacking his chest lightly. "It's been what, four years since you've been home? Felt like an eternity."

He laughed, eyes still shining as he spoke to her. "Yeah, it's been too long. I've just been so busy."

Maria scoffed and promptly turned her attention to you, clearly not caring for any excuses for Philip's absence. "And who is this?"

“I’m Y/N,” you started, your smile unsure. At this, Philip also turned his gaze back to where you stood, grin growing on his face. “His girlfriend.”

Her face lit up again at this, immediately pulling you into a bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, you're the pretty thing I've been hearing about from Philip's parents for so long? It's so great to meet you."

You laughed as she finally pulled away, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. "I guess that must be me, unless there's another woman, hm?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, grinning, and he just rolled his eyes. "It's good to meet you too, though."

Philip rested a hand on Maria's shoulder as she released your forearms, an affectionate look in his eyes as he glanced down at her. "Aunt Maria's an old family friend, Y/N. Pops helped her out of a tough spot when I was younger, and we’ve forced her to stick around with us ever since."

She smiled, putting a hand on his as she looked over at you. "I owe the Hamiltons big. They really changed my life a while back, helped me get away from my ex-husband, start a new life on my own. Can't thank them enough, honestly."

Philip rolled his eyes at that, giving a dramatic huff. "You owe us nothing. You’re all we need."

"Then stop spending so much time in the city!" she lectured him, giving a shell of a glare, and he laughed.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She glanced back at the counter over her shoulder, where her employees were still diligently taking orders, making coffee. "Anyway, I've gotta get back to work, but can I get you two a cup of coffee? Donuts? Crêpes?"

Philip looked at you as he came back around, pulled you softly to his side with an arm around your waist and a raised eyebrow. You gave Maria a warm smile.

"Just a coffee would be great."

"Same for me, then," Philip added, and Maria winked at the two of you as she made her way back to the counter.

"Two coffees coming right up for the happy couple. Feel free to have a seat anywhere," she called to you over her shoulder, and you grinned.

"Wanna sit down?" Philip asked, and you pursed your lips, pinching the hand that was squeezing your waist. He yelped, withdrew his arm from you with a wince, and you nodded and gave an easy smile.

"Let's go by the window."

He rolled his eyes as he followed you. You slid comfortably into one of the smooth wooden seats, glancing out at the sunny morning before you, and he sat across, an eyebrow raised.

"So, what do you think of my hometown so far?"

You looked back at him wearing a soft, mischievous smile and cocked an eyebrow at him. "You really wanna know?"

He fixed his stare on yours, and your grin grew (though you tried to suppress it). "Yeah."

"It'd be better without you here."

He scoffed loudly at that, turning his head from where he had sat facing you, his grin near indistinguishable in his indignant expression, and you couldn't suppress your full-bodied laugh at his reaction.

"C'mon, really?" While he tried to maintain his scowl, turning back to you had his smile widening at your repressed giggles. He fixed a glare over his gaze as you tried to swallow your grin. "God damn, I ask you a legitimate question, and you can't resist ripping on me?"

"It was just too easy!" you defended, brushing your hair away from your face as you looked sheepishly back at where he sat, shaking his head. "Honestly, though?"

"I dunno, am I gonna get an honest answer?"

You knew very well his skeptical expression was well-earned, and you grinned, rolling your eyes as you defended yourself. "Yes!"

He shrugged, motioning to the space between you, a silent go-ahead. You sighed.

"It's really nice." You glanced around the coffee shop as you spoke, your eyes ultimately finding his again, though now a dreamy look was painted across your features. "It's... homey."

"'Homey'?" he repeated your answer with a breathy laugh, and you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving the arm he had resting on the table.

"See, this is why I don't take your questions seriously, Hamilton," you scowled, feeling your face begin to grow hot at his reaction. "Give you an answer and you just make fun of me."

He chuckled as he reached for your hands, still resting on the table as the heat did not subside from the back of your neck. He took them in his, enveloping them as he gave you a simper. "Aw, c'mon, I'm not trying to tease you." His simper turned to a mocking pout, and you scoffed, rolled your eyes.

"Oh, whatever, Hamilton." You didn't pull your hands out of his grasp, though, refusing out of sheer spite to meet his eyes.

"I'm not kidding!" he defended himself, and you could see out of the corner of your eye the grin return to his face, seemingly entertained by your reaction. You were a bit preoccupied, though, with inhibiting the blush from your cheeks as you couldn't seem to focus on anything other than, God, how warm his hands were. You were painstakingly aware of every time they shifted against yours.

"'M glad you feel at home in my old town." Your annoyed gaze was still fixed on the table before you as you heard him let out a sigh, dropping his face to break your line of vision. "Princess?"

"Don't call me that, Hamilton."

He deadpanned. "Y/N."

You met his eyes with an expectant look, and for a moment, you just held his stare, almost didn't notice when your breath caught as the corners of his lips quirked upward. You frowned.

His grin only grew at your adverse reaction, breath coming out in a puff of laughter. He shook his head, tongue in cheek. "Loosen up."

The way he squeezed your hands reminded you how close the proximity between the two of you was. You could feel your heart jump in your chest. When his thumb smoothed over your knuckle, you felt suddenly very self-conscious about how sweaty your hands were.

You took a deep breath, feeling unable to hold his gaze any longer, looking out the window beside you. Thankfully, Maria chose that exact moment to arrive with your drinks.

"Two black coffees, right up!" You froze when you met her beaming expression, flinching as you almost tried to yank your hands from Philip's, feeling like a deer in headlights. He squeezed your hands softly, his expression concerned at how panicked you looked. You plastered on a smile, reminding yourself as your face heated up that you were there as his girlfriend, this was supposed to be normal, it was expected. What made you uncomfortable was exactly how normal it felt.

"Thanks, Maria." You withdrew your hands with a smile to take your coffee from her. You ignored her raised eyebrow, her pleased half-smile.

"You sure there's nothing else I can get you?" The maternal look in her eyes turned playful as she folded her arms. "Anything else to drink? Some lunch?" Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Some privacy?"

You choked on the long sip of coffee you'd been taking, trying to catch your breath as Philip just laughed. You set the mug down as you coughed into the back of your hand, trying to stifle it.

"I think this'll be all for now," he said, "We probably aren't gonna loiter too much longer, don't worry."

Maria gave him a warm smile, a smile you only caught a glimpse of as you emerged from your coughing fit. (You also caught a glimpse of Philip suppressing a laugh at you, and made a mental note to chew him out for it later on.)

"You know you could spend forever here and I wouldn't mind."

"I know." You couldn't help but notice that his smile in return didn't quite meet his eyes; something melancholy lay behind them as well.

As she pursed her lips, you thought her expression looked quite a bit like your mother's when you left for college, almost tearing up, but holding it together for you. "Well, let me know before you all leave," she said softly, "You know I don't see enough of you around here as is."

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow, though? At the reunion?"

"Wouldn't miss it." The quiet sadness in her eyes disappeared as quickly as it came, and she reached down to squeeze your shoulder affectionately. "Looking forward to seeing the both of you there." Her wink before she turned away was blatant. You couldn't help your soft smile.

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

"So, when do I get to meet the rest of your family?" He'd taken you out through the middle of town, refusing to let on to your destination. It was a nice day out, luckily for you, but you still weren't fond of having to reach all your destinations on foot -- if you'd wanted a walking tour, you'd have asked.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets as he walked alongside you down the sidewalk, appreciating the lush greenery that lined the streets, and your gaze rested on his faraway expression as you raised an eyebrow.

"Dunno. Whenever my siblings get home. Angie'll be coming in before they all get outta school, so she might even be there when we get back, but the rest of them have classes for a few more hours."

"'The rest of them'? How many siblings do you have, Hamilton?"

"Just six."

"Six?!" you repeated, eyes wide, and he just nodded.

"Yeah. The youngest is four, that's Eliza, and I'm the oldest."

"How old are the others?"

He pursed his lips, as though deep in thought, and you really couldn't imagine having to strain to remember a sibling's age. "There's William, at seven, then John, who's eleven, James is fifteen and Alex is seventeen -- they're the ones in high school right now -- and then there's Angelica, who's nineteen."

You couldn't help but let out a low whistle at that. "Sounds exhausting for your parents."

"Really. I was the easy child, and it was all downhill from there." He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"You were the easy child? Tell me why I find that hard to believe." Your challenging tone just made him shrug.

"Dunno, princess. I've just always been so responsible that my parents had an easy time with me."

"And at what point did you lose the responsibility trait?"

"I mean, when I found out I could pawn off all my responsibilities onto you..." He trailed off with a grin, laughing when he saw your glare. "Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding."

"What, about being responsible? Or about pawning your responsibilities off on me?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he shrugged. "Because we both know it's not the latter."

"Hey, let's not forget that you're here because you didn't wanna take on a responsibility."

"A responsibility you pawned off on me!" You scoffed, and his amused smile only grew, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walked alongside him.

"Why must you be so focused on pointing fingers, Y/N?"

"I'm not pointing fingers, you just--"

"We're here." You skidded to a halt as he cut off your rant at it's beginning, too absorbed in your argument (despite how obviously he was baiting you) to have realized he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face exactly what he was looking at, and while he began walking in without a second thought, you paused a moment, taking it in.

What stood before you was the oldest building you'd seen so far in town, its structure essentially in ruins, ivy crawling up the eroding brick, moss running down it. The only thing that tipped you off to the fact that you weren't being lead to a remote location where no one could hear your screams was a small metal sign above a descending staircase, a single light above the path. By the time the full sight had processed, Philip had since reached the staircase and was watching your reaction with an eyebrow raised, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"You coming?"

You exhaled. "See, I'm not trying to make any accusations, but all I'm saying is that if I were to murder someone in this town, this would be the place for it."

You followed him, though, as he grinned at your hesitance, and what you found at the bottom of the staircase was far from what you'd expected. You entered behind Philip into a sleek but old-fashioned bar, somehow teetering on the line between an antiquated tavern and a nightclub. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the place, empty at the moment, save one person standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses. The chairs were up on the tables, the televisions were shut down -- you assumed Philip hadn't brought you there for drinks, but instead for the handsome stranger who had just caught Philip's eye with a growing grin.

"Philip Hamilton?" he called out the moment the door shut behind us, his disbelieving smile echoed in Philip's reaction. "Never thought I'd see the day. Thought you'd abandoned us all for city living by now."

Philip let out a huff of laughter as he reached the counter, pulling the man in for a hug over the bar. "Whatever, man. I don't wanna hear it." He pulled back with a skeptical look in his eye, holding him by the forearms. "It's been two years since I've been home, but I've never gone three damn months without seeing you since college."

"Touché. It's good to have you back." With that, though, the man's gaze flickered over to you, eyeing your form with an eyebrow raised, a small but triumphant smile. "But you've still managed to keep your lady from me ever since you and her got together. Afraid I was gonna steal her?"

"More afraid she'd meet my friends and immediately run for the hills," Philip snorted, causing the other man to shove him lightly from across the counter.

"Anyway, I take it you're Y/N?" He seemed to be ignoring Philip's jab at him in favor of redirecting the conversation from him.

"That'd be me," you said as you went to join Philip, smile wary and your hands tucked in your pockets.

When you reached the bar, he narrowed his eyes, leaning down to eye you skeptically. "Tell me, how much is Philip paying you? Hm?" Your eyebrows shot up, and he continued, "I mean, we both know he has the money to be battin' above his league, but I didn't think he'd be willing to fork over that much just for a weekend."

While his manner had you hesitant at first, his words made you laugh. If this was what Philip's friends were like, the weekend might go by quicker than you'd expected.

"This is actually pro bono," you sighed, raising your eyebrows as though you were confiding in him. "I've always been a bit of a philanthropist, so I took pity and decided to help out the less fortunate--" You gave Philip a pointed look, though he just rolled his eyes. His entertained smile betrayed his feigned annoyance. "--for a few days."

"You really are a saint."

"I consider myself more of a martyr." While his friend laughed, Philip raised an eyebrow at you, expression toeing the line between amused and exasperated. You extended your hand. "It's great to meet you, though, um..."

"Georges Lafayette," he supplied, shaking your hand. "I'm an old friend."

"Ahh, so that's you," you folded your arms, smile growing. You stole a glance to your right, and Philip was busy feigning shock that you'd actually listened to his friends-and-family crash course. When he met your gaze, you rolled your eyes. "Philip speaks fondly of you, regardless of how he may speak to you." There was a teasing lilt to the tail end of your sentence, and while Philip scoffed, Georges cracked a grin.

"Hope he's been doing me justice." He sent you a wink as he went back to wiping down the rims of the glasses that sat before him, pulling them from the dishwasher and shelving them. "Knowing him, I'm betting it's nothing compared to how he talks about you, though. Ever since you joined his office, it's been nonstop."

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow at Philip, but he didn't meet your eyes as he took a seat next to you at the bar.

"You'd better bet. You've become something of a household name these past few years."

"Should that worry me?" you teased, electing to sit as well. You hopped up onto the barstool.

"Not this time." He chuckled, nudging Philip where he sat, leaning forward on the bar. "Worried me at the start of the whole thing. I figured he'd immediately fucked this up." He motioned between the two of you. "By the time you got together, I'd already found him three eligible rebounds."

"Aww, babe." You plastered on a teasingly contrived pout, turning to rest a hand on Philip's knee, meeting his unimpressed gaze. "Maybe if you hadn't spent three years pawning your responsibilities off on me, I would've been more receptive to your total lack of tact."

Georges laughed, and you grinned unabashedly as Philip let out a huff devoid of annoyance. "Oh, c'mon; let's not pretend I was the tactless one." The corner of his lips twitched as you raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Really, now, be honest." You hadn't the slightest clue where this was going, and Philip looked increasingly satisfied with your expression. "You were the one always yelling at me for leaving early, chewing me out for showing up late, finding excuses to come talk to me--"

"We work together," you interjected, unimpressed. Your words didn't seem to hinder his monologue.

"Now that I think about it, is that why you always looked so agitated when Theo came around?" He raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased, and you ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck. You chalked it up to annoyance. “I’ve gotta say, jealousy actually is a good look on you.”

"Whatever," you scoffed. "I had to come to talk to you about the projects I was working on because they were the ones you pawned off onto me. And you know Theo has been obnoxious since day one."

He laughed, disregarding your vexation. "I mean, yeah, but she brings me coffee."

You narrowed your eyes, genuinely in disbelief. "Is the fact that you're just using her for coffee supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course." He shrugged, as though it was obvious, and you caught Georges's amused expression out of the corner of your eye. Philip winked. "You know I've only got eyes for you, princess." You groaned, turning away from him in your chair, not wanting to look at the satisfaction you caught dancing in his eyes. You didn't like how consoled you felt.

You turned to Georges, deadpan. "Has he always been this unbearable? Or did that develop after the manipulative streak kicked in?"

"In our Philip? What manipulative streak?" He furrowed his brow in contrived disbelief. The two men shared a look, their smiles mirroring one another. "But if you wanna know if he's always been this tactful, then for sure."

It appeared Georges had decided to take Philip's side on this one. You groaned internally. "Don't you start now!"

"Sorry, Y/N, Philip claimed my loyalty years ago. You're on your own."

You pinned the pair of them with an accusatory stare, a smile playing on your lips nonetheless. You didn't love that it was turned against you, but you couldn't help but find their rapport entertaining. "You two are insufferable, you know that?"

"We've heard." Georges shrugged.

"Usually from each other," Philip chimed in.

"Or your siblings." Georges glanced at Philip. Neither of them was addressing you anymore.

"Or your ladies," Philip shot back, "Usually your exes by the time we heard it."

"We were always a little hard of hearing, huh?"

"Always. Think we heard that one from Emilie, though." Philip raised his eyebrows, gaze playful. You could only assume that was one of Georges's exes. He huffed.

"You leave my wife outta this!" Indignant was the only word you could use to describe his expression, and Philip snickered as he ducked away from the rag Georges had tried to hit him with.

"You're still lucky she took you back after that."

"She loved me too much not to." He looked smug with that, but his voice had softened. "Anyway, it's your girl we're talking about this time, so you'd better tread carefully. Right, Y/N?" He looked over at you, an eyebrow raised, obviously expecting you to jump on the chance to tease Philip. You folded your arms.

"Oh, so now you're on my side?"

Philip grinned, obviously pleased with your response, whereas Georges groaned. "Hey, I'm tryna balance the scales back out, alright? Didn't wanna let Philip get too cocky, but it looks like you let that one happen anyway."

"Don't you blame me!" You jabbed your finger at him, eyes narrowed. "You took his side first; I didn't take his side at all!"

"Sure seems like you're on his side now." Georges raised his eyebrows at Philip, who looked positively smug.

"I'm against you now. This isn't about him."

He laughed. "Tough. Looks like your girl's already cutting you out, Pip."

Philip's face fell as he grumbled, "Don't call me--"

"You call him Pip?" You hoped your expression came off as endeared. Blatantly finding ways to antagonize him didn't seem like it would've fit your role. "That's adorable!"

"Y/N." His tone was warning. Your grin didn't falter.

"Oh, can I steal that?"

"All yours."

You let out a soft aww, a hand held to your heart, and put your other hand on Georges's forearm. "I can't thank you enough."

Philip stood with a huff, seemingly having had enough of you two. You raised an eyebrow -- were you leaving already? "I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said, annoyed gaze never breaking from Georges's. "Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I dunno, Pip; I was never the responsible one." Georges shrugged innocently, and Philip couldn't seem to help his amusement at his antics. "Do my best, though."

"Can't thank you enough," Philip mocked you to Georges as he turned, walking off toward the back.

Georges called after him, "You're welcome!"

Philip didn't respond, but Georges seemed more amused given that. He turned to you with a grin, leaning on the bar.

"So, Y/N." You raised an eyebrow. "I need to hear more about you; Philip's been holding out on us all these years. Took the entire family to even convince him to bring you home to meet us."

"Then I guess I shouldn't mention how long it took him to convince me to come here, huh?" The words were truer than he knew; however, he interpreted them very differently from the truth. You raised a playful eyebrow, and he laughed.

"That's tough."

"You asked."

"Sort of," he corrected you, brow furrowed, and you grinned.

"No, but really," you started, deciding to actually explain yourself. "We've just been busy, couldn't find a time to get down here together."

"Oh yeah? Been getting a little too busy down in NYC?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and you rolled your eyes with a huff.

"You know I didn't mean it like that!" You swatted at his arm, coaxing a laugh from him. "Our schedules just didn't line up. We never had the same weeks or weekends free to get out of the city."

"So this is your first time traveling together?"

"Guess so."

"Try not to kill him before the weekend's up." He winked. You kept quiet; Georges didn't need to know quite how high the odds of that happening really were. "But really, enough about him. Where are you from? Where'd you go to school? When are you and Philip getting married?"

You ignored the last question altogether, knowing that reacting to it one way or another would only encourage him. "I'm from the west coast. I was born just outside of LA, moved later on to Chicago, and then came to New York City for college."

"Yeah? What made you choose NYC?"

"My ex, actually."

"Oh, really?" He looked surprised at that tidbit of information, and you tried to just shrug it off. "Must've been pretty serious then, huh?"

"It was." He noticed how quiet you went at that, and he didn't press the point, deciding instead to change the subject.

"So Philip must've been a pretty good rebound?" He nudged you, wiggling his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"He..." You paused, considering how you were supposed to respond to that. "He's definitely exceeded expectations, to be perfectly honest."

"Hmm, I dunno how good that sounds, Y/N." He raised a skeptical eyebrow, small smile playing at his lips. "How low, exactly, were your expectations?"

You pursed your lips, but your amusement betrayed you. You hadn't expected to be called out on the truth behind your statement. Your gaze dropped to the bar before you, and you drummed your fingers on the varnished wood. You shrugged. "Not that low."

He let out a snort of laughter. "What an absolutely glowing review. I'll be sure to let him know."

"Hey, don't you betray me like this!"

"I've made it clear where my loyalties lie." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "In all seriousness, though, why were your expectations so low?"

Again, you were unsure of how much to reveal. "Let's just say that Philip isn't much for first impressions."

"Really?" His surprise appeared genuine, before he tilted his head to the side, considering it, and shrugged. "I guess, with you, that shouldn't surprise me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You folded your arms, needing more information before you could decide whether you were offended. He saw your furrowed brow and grinned.

"I don't mean that as a bad thing. Honest." He paused, considering himself, and you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. He leaned onto the bar, and he spoke matter-of-factly, beginning to explain. "So, Philip's always been good with people. And he's definitely never had any problems with girls. He was in and out of casual relationships all through high school and college just for the hell of it."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Really?" The disbelief in your voice was blatant, and he cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he actually did have some tact, once upon a time. Was a charming kid; I never could figure out how he did it." He shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "But... well, when something matters to him -- or someone -- he goes looking for advice, and everyone else's input just ends up shaking him up. Think I mighta given him advice about you once or twice, so I guess you have me to thank for that."

For a moment, you were stunned. You swallowed, trying not to get too caught up in your head with the information he’d shared, but given its nature, it was hard not to overthink. You tried to match his lighthearted expression. "And what advice would you have given him?"

"Well, five years ago..." He squinted ever-so-slightly as he considered your question. A silent laugh slowly etched itself into his features. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. Just trust me when I tell you, it was bad advice."

"Georges!"

"Seriously, you don't wanna know." You glared at him, leaning onto the bar where you sat. "I'm sorry to leave you hangin', but I promise, telling you helps no one."

You huffed as you slumped back in your seat. "Are you that bad at relationship advice?"

"Worse than what you're imagining," he assured you, and you shook your head, exasperated.

"How in the world are you married?" The question was a joke, but despite his chuckle, his answer wasn't.

"I think some things are just meant to happen." You raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, wearing a small smile. "Seriously, I was an absolute fool in college -- and I mean that -- but no matter how many times I fucked up with Emilie, she always ended up back in my life. It was usually just coincidence. We were taking the same classes; we had the same advisor; we were on the same subway through town; our dorm rooms were right across from each other.

"And honestly? She kinda hated me at some point, but we kept being thrown together, and we got to know each other pretty well. Call me crazy, but it felt like fate." The distant look in his eyes shifted to something akin to entertainment, after that. "Similar thing happened with Philip, actually."

"Really? When?" You were genuinely invested by that point.

"Junior year of high school." He nodded to himself, thinking back with a grin. "Yeah, that was a hell of a time. Like, one week in, Philip and I had this huge fight. Don't even remember what it was about, but it had us really heated."

"Honestly, I can't imagine you two fighting," you said, and he gave a shrug, his smile agreeable.

"Nah, not anymore, not like that, but we were teenagers," he said, as though that entirely explained it. "But I was only supposed to have one class with him that year, so he tried to switch out of it to get away from me. They ended up having to remake his schedule so he was in every other class with me. Poor kid couldn't escape it, but if it wasn't for some underpaid high-school administrator, we probably wouldn't be friends."

"Sounds like you have a lot of luck," you said, and he grinned.

"That's just it, though." He pinned you with a thoughtful look. "Was it luck, or was it just meant to turn out that way?"

You considered it for a moment. His stories did sound like the longest odds imaginable, but when you thought about your own life, you couldn't help but hope he was delusional. You'd had more than your fair share of bad luck in your life, and once upon a time, it had driven away almost everything you cared about. You didn't like to think that your misery could just have been some cruel twist of fate.

You opened your mouth to respond, uncertain, but Philip had apparently chosen that moment to re-emerge, inadvertently cutting you off.

"Speak of the devil!" Georges called out, his grin wide, and Philip eyed you both skeptically.

"You two are still talking about me?"

Georges glanced at you, and you told him, "I'm hearing all about your high school years."

Philip groaned. "Oh, c'mon man, what are you telling her?"

"We just covered your junior-year mullet and your fez-wearing phase," he informed him, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. "I was just about to fill her in on when you joined the bowling team in our senior year, but--"

"Alright, that's enough outta you." Georges shot you a conspiratory wink as Philip cut him off, though neither you nor Philip could hide your amusement. He, however, tried to play it off as annoyance. "Sounds like we're gonna need to get out of here before you get to the highlights of college."

"Aw, but Pip, I'm learning so much," you pouted, and he looked mildly exasperated as he met your eyes.

"That's what concerns me." Georges laughed while you groaned, and Philip's smile reappeared as he took a seat to your right.

"Then just wait'll I tell her about middle school."

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

The rest of your evening was a whirlwind. Having grown up with only an older brother, you hadn't realized quite how many six siblings were -- that changed quickly. You really couldn't believe Angelica had managed to grow up with five brothers without losing her mind. Family dinner stretched on into the night, chaotic to the brink of your comfort zone. You found yourself enjoying it much more than you'd expected to, however. The Hamiltons were as lively as they were numerous, and you couldn't help but laugh along.

"But you were the one who got the room alone!" It took an hour or two, but you'd gotten Philip's siblings' names down. That was James, the younger high-schooler, yelling across the table at Angelica, who made a face.

"I was a seventeen-year-old girl! I couldn't keep sharing a room with my younger brothers!" she shot back, "You scared away three of my boyfriends! Three!"

"You never had to bring them up to our room, but you wanted some alone time with them." It was John, the eleven-year-old, who chimed in this time, making kissy sounds at Angelica who just mocked him.

"I had a right to some privacy!" she shot back. You didn't remember how they'd wandered down this line of discussion, but it seemed to be an impassioned one. Alex Jr. scoffed loudly.

"Hey, I'm seventeen, and I don't have my own room," he interjected, glaring down the table at their dad. "This is a double standard!"

"We have a toddler in the house; grow up," Alex Sr. sighed, which only seemed to further upset Alex Jr.

"Hey, William was Eliza's age when Ang was my age! That's not fair!"

"It doesn't matter; you aren't getting any girls anyway." The sneer came from John.

"Hey, I'm getting plenty--"

"Oh, yeah? Where are they?"

"I haven't brought them home because you can't seem to--"

"Boys! Relax!" Eliza did her best to quell the growing argument, but it seemed to be to little avail. Alex put a hand on her shoulder with a suppressed laugh as she huffed, clearly exasperated.

"Don't make this about me! I'm an incredible roommate!"

"Have you seen our bathroom lately?"

"Come on," Angelica groaned, her annoyance getting lost in the growing cacophony. John was shouting now, leaning over the table at his brother, and you jumped in your seat when James yelled back, deciding it was now his place to join the conversation.

You didn't realize you had grabbed Philip's forearm in your startled fit until he broke your train of thought.

"Alright, princess?"

Your head whipped toward him, surprised to see him leaning in to talk to you, and he looked thoroughly amused by your reaction. You released his arm from your grasp, giving him a sheepish smile. "Your family really is something."

"Believe me now that I was the easy child?" he asked, and you let out a snort of laughter, gaze falling back to his family.

"There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you were like this ten years ago."

"Hurtful," he scoffed, mocking offense, and you just shrugged, smile growing.

"They had to learn it somewhere."

"It was all Angelica."

"I'm sure."

The woman in question broke the wall of noise at almost exactly that moment, raising her head from her hands. "This is exactly why I needed my own room!" That just turned the younger boys into a united front against her, and she looked to Philip with a sigh. "I'm starting to understand why you waited so long to bring Y/N home."

"No idea what you could be referring to. They're so charismatic!" Philip shrugged, plastering on over-exaggerated confusion, seemingly just to get a rise out of his sister. She rolled her eyes with a groan; it appeared to be working. She turned to you.

"Please don't run for the hills just because our younger brothers are absolute monsters," she said, gaze pleading as she reached for your hand. You smiled, amused despite yourself. "We really need some sanity in this family. I can't take family dinners being just me with six boys."

"Aw, Angie, are you saying I'm not one of the absolute monsters?" Philip interjected with a pout. "I'm touched, really."

You and Angelica both rolled your eyes at his antics. It was then that you decided you liked her.

You leaned over the table toward where her hand was desperately clutching yours. "You've got me for the rest of the weekend, but I'm not sure I can promise more."

She groaned exaggeratedly, and Philip nudged you lightly in the side, grinning mischievously. "What, don't you love my family so far?"

His words were teasing, but your soft smile as you looked back at the people surrounding him was anything but. "I do, actually."

When you met his eyes again, his gaze was softer, grin less pronounced. "Good."

The table had slowly grown quieter throughout your interaction, and it seemed you'd held Philip's gaze for just a moment too long, and you turned to see the entire family watching the two of you. You felt your face heat up, took a sip of your water. From then, there was silence, until a grinning William decided to break it.

He'd been quiet for the majority of the meal, so it surprised you when he turned to you, eyes shining. "So, Y/N," he addressed you, tone businesslike.

"I think we've spent enough time questioning Y/N already," Philip interjected before he could continue, resting a near-protective hand on your arm. You cast him a grateful look.

"C'mon, humor him," James said, his grin matching William's. "It's hardly eight; we have plenty of time."

"We started dinner at five." Philip sounded unamused.

"We haven't spent that whole time interrogating her," he defended, and Philip gave him a pointed look. James turned to you. "Right, Y/N?"

While you sighed playfully, playing up your exasperation, you really didn't mind it. You'd never had a family like this before. "I suppose not."

"Anyway," William interjected, looking as stern as a seven-year-old could. You pursed your lips, fighting back a laugh as you folded your hands and leaned toward him, mirroring his expression. "Y/N."

"William." You did your best to imitate his tone.

"When are you and Pip going to have a baby?"

Your eyes widened immediately, and your mouth fell open in shock, if only for a moment. Philip groaned beside you, leaning back in his chair, and you could hear his parents laughing at the end of the table. Some of his siblings looked exasperated; others waited eagerly for your answer.

"Well, um..." You trailed off as you glanced at Philip desperately, hoping he'd shut his family down so you didn't have to. He hadn't yet seemed to have recovered. Your face was burning as you tried to continue. "We aren't married, so not anytime soon, but--"

"When are you getting married?" William pressed, seemingly unaffected by everyone's reactions to his words. You leaned forward, had to take a sip of your drink to hide your surprised laugh.

"Sorry to say it, but right now, we don't know that we are getting married, so I'll have to get back to you on that question." You gave him an apologetic smile before you looked back at Philip, eyes wide. This was territory you didn't think you'd have to cover. He just shook his head and mouthed, 'I'm sorry.' He appeared wholly exhausted.

"Surely you've talked about it before, though, haven't you?" It was the older Alex who chimed in that time, hesitant. Eliza gave him a look. "I mean, getting married, having kids and all that. You've been together for two years; you must have considered it at some point."

"Pops," Philip said through gritted teeth, the word carrying an unsaid warning.

"What? I'm just curious," he defended, despite Eliza swatting his shoulder. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he glanced at her, eyes wide. "If you haven't, it's fine. I don't mean to rush you kids into anything, but I just wanted to know."

By then, though she sighed, you could see Eliza looking at the two of you hopefully. The whole table fell silent, expecting an answer you didn't have. "It's just... not something we've taken into consideration at this point. We aren't really set on making decisions about that anytime soon."

"Do you want kids, though?" Angelica asked you, and Philip sighed. Like you, he'd hoped the topic would fall away after your weak explanation. You hesitated, not sure whether giving them a legitimate answer would only egg them on. Ultimately, you shrugged.

"I mean, personally? Yeah, probably at some point," you offered, playing nervously with the edge of your napkin. You didn't want to look at Philip. "The whole 'settling down and starting a family' thing is something I've kind of always pictured"

"Is it more appealing now that you see how great having a big family is for us?" Alex Jr. asked, words saturated with sarcasm. You laughed as he grinned exaggeratedly, gesturing to everyone down the table.

"I know you're joking and all, but I really wouldn't mind this being my day-by-day."

"Really?" Philip chose that moment to finally interject, an eyebrow raised, and you nodded, feeling suddenly defensive.

"I mean, yeah." You shrugged, shoulders tense. "What, wouldn't you?"

"I would.” His lips quirked as he sat forward in his chair once again. “But, honestly, I didn’t think this was your style.”

"I'm not totally set on anything, but..." You didn't elaborate further. Confessing to him the future you wanted had you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. His smile was soft as he faintly nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners.

There was a pregnant pause before Alex Sr. spoke.

"I guess now you've talked about it."

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

Dinner ended much later than it needed to, and afterward, they just herded you into their living room. It seemed that now since they all had you in front of them, they were going to take advantage of the opportunity to ask you anything and everything about yourself and your love life (with a focus on Philip, of course). You did your best to field the seemingly endless barrage of questions, and though it took you a while, you finally figured out how to deflect the more uncomfortable ones onto Philip. It wasn't until you yawned -- rather loudly, too -- that the conversation reached any sort of stopping point.

"Tired, princess?" Philip wrapped an arm around your waist, lightly squeezing your side, and you sighed, not having enough energy to push back on the pet name.

"Little bit," you mumbled, a weary smile still adorning your lips. He chuckled, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace, feeling more drained than anything, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You two should head up and get some sleep," Eliza said. The look in her eyes as you met her gaze was affectionate. You didn't notice your smile growing.

"I second that. You look exhausted, Y/N," Alex added, looking to you and Philip sympathetically.

You chuckled at that, and you couldn't help the lazy sarcasm that leaked into your voice as you responded, "Thanks, Mr. Hamilton; glad to hear it."

"Alex," he corrected you, his smile kind. He didn't seem to take any offense at your tone; instead, amusement danced in his eyes, and you nodded, matching his expression.

"Alex."

You couldn't decide whether the warm feeling in your chest as you bid everyone goodnight, letting Philip lead you to the stairs, was the result of your fatigue, the merlot Eliza had offered you around seven (and then three more times in the hours that followed), or if it just came from being around his family. It had to be some combination of the three, but you had a sneaking suspicion it leaned mainly toward the latter.

The two of you walked in easy silence, you still reminiscing on everything that had happened that day, everyone you'd met, and you didn't notice Philip watching you as you hung onto the railing to your left. You weren't in any sort of headspace for vigilant observation. Instead, you were fixated fondly on his family. It was never an environment you'd been in, so rowdy and energetic, but tender and caring all the while. You'd been dreading this weekend -- seriously, you spent about an hour on the drive down drowning out Philip's soliloquy, spaced out and wondering whether it was too late to just turn around and dump him off on the side of the road. (Patsy wouldn't have even questioned it when you arrived home.) The past however-many-hours, though, almost since you'd just woken up, had you questioning a number of assumptions you'd made, and not just about the family reunion.

You stumbled over one of the last stairs as you lost yourself in your train of thought. Your eyes snapped wide open; your grip on the railing tightened. Just as you felt yourself beginning to tip backward, you found yourself in Philip's arms, his grip on your waist steadying you as he looked down at you, amused.

"You alright?" The air hadn't yet returned to your lungs; your pseudo-crisis must have begun and ended in under a second, and you stared up at him blankly. You blinked, just beginning to process your surroundings.

Catching your breath was more of a struggle than it should've been, however. All you could discern was the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck as he looked down at you. You weren't even that close together, but clinging to his arms for what seemed like dear life had you feeling mildly defenseless. You couldn't miss the growing concern in his eyes.

"Yeah," you breathed as you realized you'd let the silence stretch on too long, long enough for Philip to question it. Being tired (and gravitating toward wine-tipsy) must have just heightened the panic in your system, must have slowed your reaction time. Another beat passed, and you finally pulled yourself upright, taking a deep breath as you continued up the last couple of stairs and down the hallway. Philip's concern didn't dissipate as he came up after you, but your mind was elsewhere.

You had to promise yourself to keep from drinking the next day, feeling exasperated with yourself as you couldn't seem to collect your thoughts. He caught up to you as you entered his room, and pulled the door shut behind him with an eyebrow raised. You didn't see him watching you, a silent question in his gaze, as you dragged yourself over to your suitcase.

You turned around after pulling your pajamas out and froze when you met his eyes. "What?"

He pursed his lips. "You sure you're okay?"

"Of course," you reassured him, giving a weary smile. "I'm just tired; don't worry."

You didn't let yourself ponder any longer, and though you could see your answer hadn't quite appeased him, you ignored it. The room was quiet as you both picked through your suitcases, brushed past each other entering and exiting the bathroom. You were both more than ready to get some sleep.

Just before you were about to climb into bed, you paused, unable to help your drifting gaze. Philip was still in the adjacent bathroom, brushing his teeth, and you glanced back at him. Considering the circumstances, briefly vetting his room felt like fair game.

Your eyes scanned the walls, noting the different posters he still had hung up, appearing to all be from different times in his life -- some were much more worn than others, and you couldn't imagine he'd been anxiously awaiting the new Scooby-Doo movie anytime recently. You wandered over to the desk, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a small smile as you noticed the books and pictures stacked high on the surface. Your fingertips brushed against one photo, and your gaze fell to it, seeing Philip and three other people all in party hats, their celebration frozen in time.

You could hear his footsteps stall behind you as you poked into his belongings, but it didn't discourage you.

"When's this from?" you asked, turning to him with the polaroid you'd uncovered. He chuckled as he walked over, plucking the picture from your hand.

"Eighteenth birthday party," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners as he eyed the photograph. He turned his gaze back to you with a small smile. "You're actually gonna meet all the people in this photo this weekend, assuming they all show up."

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn as you took a seat on the perfectly made bed a few feet in front of him. "What, couldn't get anyone but family to celebrate your eighteenth with you?"

"Hardly." He hummed, ignoring the aim behind the insult. "My dad lost most of his family when he was young, though, so while you'll meet all of Mom's family this weekend, Pop's is all just his friends who he's adopted into the family, and then their families. These three are his friends' kids who I grew up with," he said, motioning again to the photograph.

"That's sweet," you said softly, pushing yourself further up the bed, hugging your knees to your chest.

"Hmm?"

"That your dad chose this entirely new family, I mean." He shrugged, walking over to join you on the bed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said, "Never really thought much of it, I guess." He paused, eyeing you with a raised eyebrow where you sat. "What's your family like? You don't talk about them much."

You pursed your lips. "Small."

"Yeah?" He took a seat next to you after pulling himself onto the bed. Your skin jumped as the outside of his thigh rested against yours, his hip less than an inch away, and you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You nodded, swallowing hard as a soft smile grew on your lips.

"Just me, my parents and my brother."

"That's it?" He looked surprised at your explanation, and you just shrugged. "What about cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles?"

"Two aunts, no grandparents, no cousins."

"Really," he sighed, seemingly still in disbelief. A teasing grin worked its way onto his face as he elbowed you lightly. "So I won't be going to any family reunions in the L/N household anytime soon, then, huh?"

You laughed despite yourself. "Doesn't look like it. The closest we ever get is when my brother and I are together in NYC and Mom and Dad drive up to meet us for a couple days. Not much of a production."

"Sounds nice, though." His grin had grown by then as he looked over at you, leaning back to meet you where you sat. By then, he was sitting angled toward you with his legs crossed, reclining back on his hands. You shifted, and the hand behind you brushed against his. "Next time the L/Ns get together in New York, though, I'd better be invited. Quid pro quo, princess."

"Oh, of course," you replied jokingly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Might be a little quieter than what you're used to, though."

He rolled his eyes. "At least you're letting me know ahead of time." You shifted to turn yourself toward him, again finding him only inches from you. He looked as surprised as you did, but neither of you moved, and he continued, tone light. "Speaking of, sorry for not warning you about how... chaotic my family gets. It's been a while since I've been with them all at once, and I forgot to consider that this isn't how everyone's families work."

You chuckled, your smile growing. "No, don't apologize. They're sweet."

"Not the word that comes to mind." He pursed his lips, looking down at you skeptically. You rolled your eyes, but he couldn't have missed the mirth in your expression. "Then again, considering that, it's no wonder you get along with them."

Your jaw dropped in mock outrage. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He shrugged, feigning innocence despite his smirk. "Nothing much. Just that I'm glad you feel at home with my family."

You huffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up to jab a finger in his chest. "Now don't you dare even pretend that wasn't an insult!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His grin didn't waver.

"Oh, don't play dumb," you scoffed. You both knew the fury in your voice was contrived, and his amusement seemed to grow. "We both know what you meant."

"Oh, yeah?" He pushed back on you, leaning in against your hand, an eyebrow raised. "What'd I mean, princess?"

"I said don't pretend," you warned him. He was looking increasingly smug the more indignant you became, and you narrowed your eyes.

"Who said I was?

"I'm not stupid." You raised your eyebrows.

"'Course not." He mocked your expression. "So you must already know I would never mean anything other than praise by that, huh?"

You rolled your eyes with a groan, having had about enough, despite the smile you were failing to stifle. He laughed, and you reached out to shove him away by the chest, but just as you did, he tried to grab your wrist, eyebrows raised.

He was too late.

As he grabbed your wrist, you couldn't pull back to where you were sitting, and your eyes widened as you lost your balance. Your momentum turned what would've hardly tipped him over into a much more forceful push, and you sent him falling backward, his legs unfolding as he tried to catch himself, with you, in turn, collapsing forward with a yelp. You ended up on top of him, one hand still held to his chest, the other beside his head, and you knelt straddling his waist. Both of you had wide eyes as you realized the position you were in, nose-to-nose, and your breath caught in the back of your throat.

He was the first to speak, eyes shining, his voice low. "Y'know, this wasn't quite what I had in mind when I asked you to come home with me for the weekend."

However, you were still stunned into silence, hyper-aware of any movement either of you made. You had to focus on your breathing in an effort to calm your pounding heart. (With your hand on his chest, you could tell you weren't the only one.)

You felt your hair brushing against your cheek as it fell forward, draped beside your head over Philip. It must have been subconscious when you found yourself leaning in further yet, must have been instinct based on the situation. Nonetheless, when you did, the side of your nose brushed against his, and you felt his heartbeat quicken, saw his eyes widen.

You paused when you must have been less than an inch above him.

"Y/N," he murmured, voice cautious as his free hand found its way up to your waist. You stalled, though, for another moment, shivering when you felt his breath fan across your lips. He was all but immobile beneath you, too apprehensive to make any move one way or another.

The anticipation in his eyes only heightened with each passing second.

It was then that you pushed yourself off of him, blinking hard, and you couldn't decide whether you had lost your nerve or regained your sense. You swallowed, took a deep breath. "Sorry, I... I didn't mean to, um--" You cut yourself off. What in the world were you thinking? The question arose in your mind desperately as you scrambled further back, further from him. Your face was burning. "I wasn't--"

"You're ok," he said softly, giving you a reassuring (yet, slightly worried) smile. You didn't meet his gaze. "It was a mistake." You were so lost in your own train of thought that you didn't notice when Philip finally stood, walked to the empty side of the bed to join you.

"We should get some sleep," he said, turning on the lamp beside him, and you nodded. The past few minutes had you spiraling. All his actions were hesitant; had you scared him? You didn't mean to end up in that position. He knew it was just a mishap, right? Did you know that it was?

He stood briefly to hit the light, and you crawled under one side of the covers. After a moment, he joined you. Neither of you knew quite what to say next.

"G'night, princess," he finally murmured, voice as wary as it was soft as you curled into the sheets, and he pulled them over himself alongside you. You closed your eyes in an effort to forget that you were still facing him, shifted over to give him space. Your calf brushed against his knee, but you didn't pull away.

When you heard the lamp turn off, you finally spoke again. "Night, Pip."

The room was completely silent after that, but neither of you was at rest. You lay with your eyes tightly shut, your thoughts running a mile a minute as you willed yourself to stop replaying one specific moment on a loop.

You didn't realize your brow was furrowed, but Philip did, watching you for just a moment longer with smiling eyes.

The bed was just a little bit warmer that night.

[obsidianfr3sk]

The puppet of the sad eyes

Hi! I haven’t posted a one short in a really long time, have I? Jaskdbsj well, um... I had promised this fic to my mom @healing-winston-pratt a while ago, and since yesterday everyone was talking about Winston, I said to myself “this is a good moment to post the fic, Obsi”. So... here I am:’) 

Gosh, I feel akward. I swear I am not like this xjhksfdhds (who am I kiding, I’m just as akward as I seem) (reference not intended) It’s just that... like, there are another characters in the Renegades trilogy that hit me too close home, but Winston just hits me in a place that no other character has done before, and I wanted to write a little bit about him. I mean... not gonna lie, it’s a sad fic. But it has a happy ending! Angst-Fluff as they say in my village (? 

Two quick notes: First, trigger warning for mentions of sexual abuse. It’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned, but anyways, I want to warn that if anyone feels uncortable reading it, don’t worry, keep scrolling. Second, I tried to tag everyone who reblogged the post made by @chikuyi-hiro (fuck, I can’t tag them), the one where we all claimed to be part of the Winston Pratt defense squad (? I’m sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged sjkdfhskjddsj Also, um... tell me if you would like to be tagged in future works of mine. If everything works out, I will be posting two one-shorts this week (one halloween themed and the other will be my contribution to Osby October) so... if you want to see them or other fics like that, I can tag you:’) 

Well, Obsi, let them start reading, for fuck’s sake.

*le da el dibujito que hizo en el kinder* Hope you like it mom:’)

A03 link

Tag list: @nodrianbcyes @dawniebb  @alecjamesartino @everyone-has-a-nightmare @plain-jane-mclain @honey-harper-official @itsalittlebitchilly @novas-egg-beater @sanktaleksander and all the “Winston Pratt Defense Squad” (?

From the first day she appeared in his life, Winston realized that Nova gave him the creeps. He first thought it was because she was Ace Anarchy's niece, but no.

What gave him the creeps was that Nova didn’t sleep.

Leroy had told him not to comment on it. Winston didn't know if it was because he thought he was going to hurt the girl's feelings or if it was because he didn't want Ace to listen to him and take it as a personal insult. Winston didn't care either way, because it wasn't like he was going to shout it from the rooftops.

It was just an observation.

Nova gave him the creeps.

Maybe it was because sleeping was the best part of the day for him. He could disappear for a few hours into a deep, dark void. Get rid of any emotion he was feeling. No one was going to be able to hurt him, and if they did, he would never know.

Because when Winston slept, it was as if he didn't exist. It wasn’t like he could do it very often anyway.

Not only because now they had to live in a filthy, smelly tunnel. It was also because Winston hadn’t slept well for a long time.

He was lying on a piss-smelling mat Leroy had found in the trash. “If you don't want it, you're more than welcome to sleep on the floor,” he told him when Winston dared to mention that thing reeked.

Winston didn't want to sleep on the floor. If Honey could sleep on pissed mats, so could he.

His back itched.

The mat not only had piss on it, but apparently, it also had fleas. How nice.

He began to scratch his back, feeling like a freaking orangutan. Hettie looked at him critically, dozing from the little wooden bed he had so lovingly made for him.

“What are you looking at, bitch?” he asked.

Hettie crossed his arms and shook his head. In the cathedral, we wouldn’t be like this.

He kept scratching himself. “Sorry to call you bitch,” he mumbled. “You put me in a bad mood.”

I don't like you looking at me. I don't like you to analyze my every move. I don't like you watching me when I'm changing. I do not like you.

Then someone opened the door without knocking. Winston was about to shout “INGRID, GET OUT OF MY TENT” when he realized it was not Ingrid.

It was Nova.

Winston froze with his hand on his back. “Um... can I help you?”

It might be the first time he'd spoken to her directly, after that awkward moment during her second day at the cathedral, when Winston had tried to make conversation with her, and Ace had told him to stay away from Nova.

“I don't want you to do the same to her,” he had told him sternly.

Winston clenched his fists and clasped them against his chest.

It would never have occurred to him to use his powers on her.

But it seemed that Nova had taken to heart not speaking to Winston because indeed she did not speak to him the entire time they were in the cathedral. Before the Day of Triumph.

(What a stupid name for a day by the way.)

“Can I borrow a toy?” she asked in a small voice.

A toy. Nova wanted a toy.

“Ah. Yes, yes, yes…” Winston said, pulling the covers off (which also smelled like piss). “I… I have a lot of toys. Look.”

And he went to the second tent. Winston had to cower slightly to be able to move around there. Honey was always nagging him for his bad posture and he always told her it was the tent’s fault.

The last time that had happened, they were eating frozen pizza in a corner they had assigned for those kinds of times when they sat down together to gobble up leftovers.

“You can't blame inanimate objects for the rest of your life,” Honey exclaimed, losing her temper (for the eighth time that day).

At that moment, Winston felt his blood run cold. For the first time in his entire stay with the Anarchists, he wondered if they knew.

Do you see the marks of his hands on my body? Do you see me tremble at the slightest touch?

Do you see me behind the makeup?

The fear left as fast as it came. Ingrid threw a napkin at him and asked him (very unkindly) to pass her another slice, and Leroy pointed out to Honey that all objects were inanimate.

No one had noticed.

What a relief.

Watch me try it, Honey. Watch me try.

In that other tent, Winston had a pink toy kitchen. He had found it a couple of weeks ago in a garbage dump, and he had brought it to the tunnels by himself, despite complaints from his fellow anarchists. He was left speechless when he realized it was full of toy food and even a couple of blue plates and blue teacups. He spent the entire afternoon organizing his new kitchen, and he was not put off by Ingrid's constant teasing.

He had loved it. And he was sure Nova was going to love it too.

“Look,” he said, “I have everything here—” he lifted a light orange basket “—This is the little basket where I put the fruits, and this—” he pointed to a green basket “—it is the one with the vegetables. I even have a mini pumpkin, it's very cute.” He opened a compartment below the sink. “Here are the non-perishable items. Do you know what non-perishable means? It's... Look, I have a can of sardines. It's fake, of course. Do not try to open it, it’d break. Oh, also in the oven—” he opened the oven door “—I have some cookies, an apple pie, some croissants… it’s that how is pronounced?  Croissants . I don’t know, do you know? Is Artino a French or Italian surname?” Nova didn't reply. Had he offended her?  Shit . “Nova?”

He turned and realized that Nova hadn't followed him. He hurried back to the first tent and found Nova very comfortable sitting on the floor, playing with Hettie.

The puppet looked at her with demonic eyes.

No. Not her.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Winston yelled. “He's mine!” With one hand he snatched Hettie from her and with the other he squeezed the toy croissant. Nova was startled. “Don't touch him again! DO NOT PUT YOUR LITTLE HANDS ON HIM AGAIN, NOVA, OR I DO NOT RESPOND! DID YOU HEAR ME?!”

Nova started pouting, and with that, Winston snapped back to reality.

He looked at Hettie, lazily dangling in his right hand, looking up at him with a smile. His little eyes weren't demonic.

They were sad. Like Nova’s were at that moment.

He was saying , “Why don't you let me play with other kids, Winston? You never play with me anymore.”

I never played with you. Not since he did.

“Sorry...” he mumbled to Nova while putting the croissant in his pocket. “Damn, I'm sorry. Don't tell your uncle I yelled at you, please.”

Nova frowned a little. She looked more embarrassed than upset. “I just wanted to see it. He’s nice.”

Do you think so?

“Yes, but ... he was asleep,” he excused himself, putting Hettie back on his bed. “He doesn't like it when people wake him up. But I see that for you that is not a problem, huh?”

Nova lowered her head. “Sorry…”

“Nah. Do not worry. We are fine. Are we fine?”

Nova nodded quickly. The good thing was she wasn't going to tell her uncle. Ace would kill him if he found out.

It wasn't like Winston cared much if he died or not though. It was just that he didn't want Ace to kill him. It would be a bit embarrassing considering his current condition.

“Would you like to see a puppet show?” Winston asked her.

“Puppets?” She turned to see the wooden bed. “Puppets like him?”

“His name is Hettie.”

“Hettie,” Nova repeated.

Winston found it adorable.

“No, other types of puppets,” he replied. “Puppets I make with this—” he waved his hands in front of her face “—with my little hands.”

Nova wrinkled her nose and gently pushed his hands away, letting out a loud, joyous laugh.

It was the first time she seemed happy since the first day he saw her. How nice it was to hear a child laugh.

Children generally yelled when they were near him.

“I do,” Nova replied enthusiastically. “How will you do it?”

Winston settled down beside her. “Okay, we'll need a flashlight first… do you have a flashlight?”

Nova thought for a few moments. “Yes!”

"Well, go for it!" he exclaimed pointing into the distance as if he were a pirate. "Run, Novie, run!"

And Nova laughed again.

Her laughter echoed through the tunnels and in Winston's head.

He stared at Hettie, listening to Nova's feet pacing through the tunnel in search of the flashlight she mentioned. At one point, Leroy's voice interrupted the sound of her footsteps and asked her what she was doing (in a slightly gentler tone than he used to address the rest of the world) ( very  slightly gentler tone). Nova replied that Winston was going to do a puppet show for her.

“How?” Leroy asked.

Winston rolled his eyes.  How else, Leroy?

“With my little hands,” Winston whispered to himself.

And Nova responded as if she had heard him.

“With his little hands!”

It was such a large flashlight that Nova had to carry it with both hands. Winston moved quickly to take it, but she drew back as if assuring him that she could carry it by herself.

These modern women.

Nova pressed the power button. It did not turn on. She hit the lantern a few times until finally, a yellowish light illuminated the tent like a torch. Winston blinked many times to get used to the sudden change of light.

“You’d be a great engineer,” he stammered. Nova looked at him as if she didn't understand. “Forget it. Aim it over… there,” and pointed to the area of the tent that had a wall behind it.

She obeyed. Winston crawled closer to the stage and wiped the sweat and dirt from his hands on the patched pants he wore.

That sounded so stupid. Stage. It wasn’t like he was going to act or something.

He shot Nova a look. She was expectant.

And smiling. Truly smiling.

That made Winston smile too.

He made the first shadow. “What animal is this?” he asked.

“A moose!”

Another giggle.

Another shadow. “And this one?”

“An elephant!”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! And that was a difficult one!”

More giggles. More shadows. “For two hundred dollars more, Novie Artino, what is this animal?”

“It is easy!” she assured. “A goat!”

“Geez! You’re wrong!” Winston exclaimed. “It is not a goat! It's... Cyanide! Because he’s old and stubborn!”

He thought Nova wouldn't laugh. Cyanide was her favorite anarchist, and he knew it. However, that was the shadow that made her laugh the most. And the truth was Winston laughed even more.

“And wait, there’s more!” Winston went on. “Guess this one!”

Nova had a hand on her chin. “It's... it's a spider!”

“No! It's Phobia!”

“Because he’s ugly!” Nova laughed.

“He’s ugly indeed!”  What other shadow? What other shadow?  “And what about this one?”

“A duck!”

“What duck!” Winston laughed. “It's a swan!”

“It's Honey!” she screeched, pointing at the shadow with her finger.

“The one and only, Novie, the one and only!”

One more. A dog.

Nova immediately knew the answer. “Ingrid!”

“YES! BECAUSE SHE’S A TOTAL BITCH!”

At this point, both were laughing so hard they were almost out of breath.

If Leroy or any of the others had listened (which they surely had), Winston wouldn't mind at all if they got mad at him and ignored him for the rest of the week. They could pretend he didn't exist for the rest of his life and he wouldn't care. Seeing Nova happy made it all worth it.

Winston was happy too.

Nova wiped a small tear from her eye and looked at Hettie fondly. “Do you know what my mom did when I went to sleep?” she asked.

“What did she do?”

“She read me stories,” Nova replied. “She said that pretty stories would scare the nightmares away.”

Winston nodded. Probably someone had read stories to him when he was little, he just didn’t remember.

“Could you tell Hettie a story?” Nova begged. “Shadow puppets and everything. That way, he would have pretty dreams.”

Hettie? Dreams? Hettie couldn’t dream. And neither did Winston.

But he didn't want to ruin the mood.

“Of course.” He wiped the sweat on his pants. Again. “Let's see… Pay attention, Hettie. Your prettiest dream is about to start.”

He cleared his throat.

Pay attention, Hettie. Your worst nightmare is about to start.

“Once upon a time there was a rabbit,” Winston said, “that lived in the Land of Rabbits.” A rabbit shadow emerged from the corner of the stage. “The Land of Rabbits was… not a good place to live. There were eagles in the sky—” the eagle replaced the rabbit for a second “—that watched the rabbits, waiting for the first chance they got to eat them. So the rabbits had to hide in their tunnels.”

Nova stifled a comical gasp of astonishment.

“But there was this rabbit—”

“What was the rabbit’s name?”

Winston couldn't come up with a better name. “Hettie.”

Nova nodded in approval. “Did you hear, Hettie?” she asked the puppet. “You and the rabbit have the same name.”

You. You. It’s always you.

Everything always ends up being about you.

Fucking Hettie.

“Yeah, so Hettie was there. Being a rabbit.” Hettie Rabbit jumped happily throughout the light.

“He lived with Mama Rabbit and Papa Rabbit. They were the Rabbit family.”

“You say ‘rabbit’ a lot.”

Winston laughed, a little more tense than before.

Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit.

Hettie.

Fucking Hettie.

“But one day, Mama Rabbit and Papa Rabbit had to leave Hettie alone,” Winston continued. “And they left him with their friend…”

Hettie Rabbit became a hungry, violent, and heavy-breathing creature.

It became him .

“Their friend the wolf.”

Him. The wolf. The wolf. Him.

Hettie.

Winston sighed.  Fucking Hettie.

“So… so…”

So. So. So. So what happened?

Nova turned her head slightly. She had the same question.

Winston knew the Rabbit was a fucking idiot. What else happened to rabbits that entered the wolf's mouth? No one told that rabbit to go in there. But that rabbit had no other choice. He had nowhere else to go.

Or maybe he did have another place to go. If only he had been smarter…

“Um… Hey…”

If Hettie had been smarter, he would have warned Winston that when the wolves got too close, nothing good was going to happen to the rabbits.

But Hettie was a jerk.

Hettie. Hettie. Fucking Hettie.

“Winston!”

Her voice was like a needle that broke the bubble that enveloped him for a second.

“Novie?”

“What happened to Hettie?” she asked.

The mere question made his blood boil.

More shadows. The wolf, hungry and dangerous, on top of the rabbit, terrified and defenseless.

Nova was no longer smiling.

“Well, what happens to all rabbits,” he replied. “The wolf ate him. The end.”

The flashlight gave up and went off again.

Finally.

Winston turned to Nova. He didn't expect her to be happy. Winston certainly wasn't.

But he didn't expect to see her furious either.

“What a shitty story,” she spat.

“Excuse you?”

Nova stood up abruptly. Her turquoise pants were as dirty as his. “I said it was a shitty story. It isn’t like my mom’s stories.” She crossed her arms. “Do it again.”

“I won’t. I'm not going to tell another story,” Winston replied, standing up as well. “This is how it ends.” He walked over to her and put his finger on her chest. “El fin. The end. The end of all endings.”

“No!” Nova yelled as she clenched her fists and slammed her foot against the ground. “That is not the end!”

“I don’t care! It's my end!” Winston exclaimed imitating her. “Just like Hettie is my puppet! And I won't let you play with him!”

Nova's cheeks puffed out like a balloon. “Well, I'll play with him anyway!” she yelled, yanking Hettie off his bed. “You don't play with him! He feels alone! He told me!”

Winston tried to grab Hettie, but Nova pushed him away just in time.

It was a six-year-old girl versus a nineteen-year-old teenager. He could just kick her in the face and run.

But for some reason, he didn't do that. “Idiot!” he said taking Hettie’s arm. “Puppets don't talk!”

He tried to snatch it from her a second time. Nova grabbed his leg. “They talk to me!”

“It’s not true!” Winston insisted. “Liar! Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Nova struggled too. “Your pants are on fire! You’re the liar!”

Hettie sided with Nova. You know that this is a very serious accusation, right? Why are you making up that kind of thing? Why are you lying to us, Winston?

Winston Pratt was many things. But he was not a liar.

He would never lie about that.

Why don’t you believe me? Why do you think I’m lying? I don’t want to make you suffer. Why would I want that? Only villains want to make people suffer.

Why would I be a villain?

Why would I be a liar?

He pulled Hettie toward him so hard, he ended up bringing Nova with him. She slammed into his chest and gave a slight groan.

Winston, not quite sure what he was doing, hugged her. He hugged her as he would have liked to be hugged.

When he told his parents the truth of his nightmares, his sleepless nights, and his constant fear, instead of covering him with kisses, hugs, and words of affection, they had called him a liar. Just like he had just called Nova.

He would never lie to them. Not about that.

Winston thought she would run away. He thought that she would also be terrified of any display of physical contact.

But Nova didn't. Nova hugged him too.

And Winston… Winston burst into tears.

Hysterically.

“Why are you crying?” Nova asked, worried.

“No, it's just... it's just...” he said between sobs. “It's just that I'm so sorry I made you angry.”

“I was not angry,” Nova corrected slightly defensively. “I panicked.”

That made him let out another sob. “Did I scared you?”

Nova clung to him tighter. “Yes. Your eyes changed.”

Winston sniffed with her purple jacket. “How?”

“They were... angry,” Nova explained. “Not sad. They didn't look like Hettie's.”

Winston separated from Nova. Hettie was crushed between the two of them. Despite the fight, he had remained intact.

Seeing him was like looking in a mirror.

Winston was not the puppeteer. He was a puppet.

It was Hettie’s fault. Winston’s fault.

Nova was looking at Hettie as well. She took him in her hands and caressed the buttons of the little suit with affection. Winston put his arm around Nova and gently shook her. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Nova replied. “I won’t tell my uncle.”

Winston tried to laugh, but all that came out of his mouth was another sob. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Nova turned to see him. “Don’t cry. Stop it,” she ordered sternly.

He stopped crying. It was like… magic. 

You have balls, Novie. You have balls.

Her expression changed from annoyed to astonished. “Your makeup isn’t ruined.”

Winston stroked his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s… it’s not makeup.”

Nova reached out her hand and caressed it as well. “It's your face,” she whispered.

“It's my face,” he repeated.

She sat on his outstretched leg, looked away from him, and didn't let go of Hettie.

“Did the wolf really eat the rabbit?” she asked.

You and your damn rabbit.

“Really, really,” he replied.

Nova frowned sadly. “Poor little thing…”

“Poor little thing?” Winston snorted. “He deserved it.”

“Why?” Nova asked, very confused.

Why not? Why wouldn't he deserve it?

“Because… he shouldn’t be hanging out with wolves.”

And Nova turned to see him as if he had said the greatest nonsense in the world. She crossed her arms again, and very confident of herself, she said, “But the wolf shouldn’t be eating rabbits in the first place.”

Winston raised his eyebrows.

She was not an idiot.

But that was not how the world worked.

Nova returned her attention to Hettie.

Seeing her there, sitting on top of him, so helpless and confident, made him realize that he couldn't let something bad happen to her.

Not like others had let it happen to him.

“Nova,” he called her. Nova raised her gaze from the puppet. “If you ... if you ever meet a wolf, you have to tell me.”

“There are no wolves in the city,” she chuckled. “But if I do, I'll tell you.”

Winston chuckled too. “No, I mean... a wolf is not just an animal,” he explained. He scratched his back. He fucking hated bugs, really. “A wolf can be anyone who makes you feel bad. Has someone ever made you feel bad?”

Nova had to stop to think about it. Winston felt his heart beat faster.

Finally, she replied, “Honey once told me that I had a terrible accent and she couldn’t understand a word I was saying.”

He sighed in relief. Winston didn't know how he would have reacted if Nova...

If the same had happened to Nova.

“Okay, that's Honey being Honey,” he assured. “I mean... if someone... you know.”

Nova wrinkled her nose. Of course, she didn't know.

It was good that she didn't know, right? Or was it bad?

“Look, for example... We hugged a while ago, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I have my arm on your shoulder—” he raised his arm slightly. “—And you touched my cheek—” he held her fingers “—and right now you're sitting on my leg.”

He moved his leg in such a way that it made Nova jump slightly. “Yes,” she replied with a laugh.

“And is that okay with you?”

Nova nodded.

“I am glad. But if someone ever touches you or puts you in a situation where you are afraid, feel bad, or do not understand... run away. And you tell me, or your uncle, or Leroy, Honey… heck, even tell Phobia or Ingrid. But tell someone.” He put his hands on her shoulders, hoping the despair didn't show in his high-pitched voice. “Don't be like the rabbit.”

Don't be like me.

“But the rabbit didn't know about the wolf.” She stroked Hettie's cheek the way she stroked Winston's a couple of minutes ago. “It wasn't Hettie's fault.”

It was useless. It didn't matter how many times Nova repeated it to him.

Winston knew it was his fault.

But he also didn't want to argue about it anymore. Now he didn't matter. Nova was the only thing that mattered.

Nova was everything.

“Nova. Please, Nova, do you swear you will tell someone if you find a wolf?”

Do you swear you will never be like me?

“My Uncle Ace says swearing is terribly wicked.”

He squeezed her shoulders lightly.

Ace could go fuck himself.

Winston wanted to be certain that she was going to be safe, that she knew what she had to know.

Nova had to know if something bad happened to her...

Winston couldn't speak for the other anarchists. He wanted to believe they would do the right thing, but people kept surprising him in the worst ways. But Winston needed Nova to confirm that she knew that if something bad happened to her, he was going to believe her with the same intensity that others had not believed him.

One thing they had in common was that neither of them was a liar.

“If you swear it to me, I'll let you play with Hettie.”

Her face lit up. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, seriously.”

Nova giggled. “I swear.”

Winston offered his fist and Nova bumped into it.

He was silent, but his mind was racing.

It didn't matter what happened in the future. Winston was going to believe Nova. Forever. Because Nova wasn't going to be like him. And he wasn't going to be like the people who hurt him, either.

“Do you want to play with Hettie?” he whispered to her.

Nova stared at Hettie for a few more seconds. She smiled at him and returned him to his bed with the delicacy that only a girl her age could have. “No. He is already asleep. Tomorrow will be another day.”

And before Winston could respond, Nova squeezed his hand in such a way that she inadvertently pushed him into the void.

Winston fell asleep.

He slept better than he had in a long time.

[soriseerakyra]

Flight of Fancy -6- (Black! Reader)

“I thought you said that you were going on a date,” Ari says with a slightly scrunched up nose.

“I’m his date,” You correct the smoothing the bodice of your cream-colored dress. You had to admit, you looked better than you thought you would when you saw the thing on the rack. The garment seemed to fit you like a glove, its mermaid shape accentuating your curves. “But you're invited because it's a party.”

“Seems like a cop-out to me,” Ari says with a teasing tone. You can see the younger girls rusting through her closet, looking for a dress that wouldn’t scare Bruce’s guests too much. “But a party is a party.”

“I don’t think it’s the type of party that you’re thinking it is,” you slightly sheepishly watch Ari's reaction through the mirror. “There will be lots of his friends there, sure, but I think there… I don’t know like this…”

Ari cranes her head over her shoulder just in time to find you crooking your pinky in the air, making a mock fancy motion.

“Aw shit, Pea, what the hell did you invite me to? Bridge with the oatmeal gang?”

“It’s not like I could go by myself,” You defend hands on your hips and slight pout coming across your lips. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”

A part of you didn’t want to say it out loud and you hadn’t wanted to make Bruce feel bad, but when he had first broached the idea about having a party, you had initially wanted to turn him down. You had been to those kinds of things as Kenya’s guest plenty of times, and most of those spaces had been overwhelmingly white. If Kenya wasn’t running everything and hadn't had the confidence of a queen you probably have felt extremely uncomfortable. But you had left that confident woman behind, and you would’ve been alone if you hadn’t invited your closest friends. At least now if someone gives you a dirty look or if it's boring, or worse, Bruce is feeding you to the wolves, you would have your back up there. Still, you kind of wished you could have invited Kenya to this thing, another pair of eyes watching your back wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all.

“I’m sure he gets down in some way,” Jo-Jo comments while popping a cookie in her mouth and scrolling on her phone. You were glad that she had chosen an edible instead of her usual pre-game blunt. You were sure this was the type of party that you didn’t want to smell like smoke at. “You don’t get to be called a playboy because you throw boring parties.”

“I’m just wondering if there is going to be dancing and if so, is anyone besides us going to be on beat,” Ari comments with a sly smirk as she slips a form-fitting shimmery silver gown over her head.

“Ari!” You scold but have to fight to keep the small smile from curling over your lips

They always had a way of making you feel a little better when you were overly nervous.

You cast a stray glance at yourself in the mirror, as you fix your earring in place. If you tried your best, maybe tonight wouldn’t be as horrible as the knot in your stomach told you it was going to be. And even if it was at least you looked good, right?

“Anyway, how does one even get to a manor? Do we need a password?” Ari said smacking as she rolled a tube of ruby red lipstick over her lips.

“He said he would send a-,” A shrill chime from your phone interrupts you as the device begins to ring. “A car.”

“Hello?” You question when you answer the phone. You’re so preoccupied with the call you don’t notice your friends mocking you and your date over your shoulder.

“OooH you hear that Jo he sent a car,” Ari says in a sing-song tone.

“Rolling in the lap of luxury,” The loc bearing girl says dryly with a wry smile on her lips.

“Hey 3B there is some old guy down here saying he’s here to get you,” you hear the gruff voice of the security guard/front desk person. “I can send him away if you want, looks sketchy to me.”

“Oh no that is for me, I’ll be right down,” You say fighting back a chuckle.

You get skeptical but resigned ‘Okay’ before the phone clicks.

“It’s time,” you say, turning to look at the girls behind you, and you feel a slightly annoyed frown come over your lips. Thier mocking had turned into them simply making faces in the mirror. 

“Are we twelve?”

“Nah,” Ari says grabbing her clutch and making her way to your apartment door. “But we're about to turn this shit up to thirteen!”

You feel your eye twitch slightly in annoyance. A slap on your back causes you to jump slightly and you find yourself staring into Jo-Jo’s dark eyes.

“It’s too late to uninvite us now,” She says with a bit of devious smile. She rolls her shoulders, her suit jacket pulling tight before relaxing when her shoulders fall. “At least it won’t be boring.”

With a groan you follow the two girls downstairs, locking the door behind you.

You reach the lobby just in time to see Ari throwing a playful wave at the white-bearded security guard and Jo-Jo throws up a peace sign right behind her.

“Pea,” He calls stopping you before you could follow your friends outside.

You toss a glance at the man on your shoulder, “What’s wrong, Cal?”

His bushy eyebrows knit close together and his warm dark brown eyes look at you with worry.

“I-I just don’t get into trouble, okay? There are people out there that will take advantage of you girls cause you look young and they think you’re stupid cause you are out having fun.”

You feel a little warmth and a tinge of sadness creep up on you. What had he seen to make him feel like he needed to warn you like this?

“I promise you that where I’m going I’ll be safe,” You say. You hesitate to say the next part of your sentence. “The guy I-The guy I’m dating wouldn't hurt me.”

He gives you a skeptical gaze that a father might give a daughter, “At least tell me his name.”

You hesitate again but think better of it, there is no way that he would tell anyone right? “Bruce Wayne.”

He’d taken out a pen and pad to write down the name of the offender and stopped as soon as the name raced past your lips. He looks up to you with a slightly wide skeptical eye.

“As in-,”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence passes before you begin shimmy your way out of the door without seeming too rude.

“I’m going to go now, Cal.”

“Uh-huh.”

You find yourself quickly missing the warmth of the lobby as the evening air nips at your cheeks. However, you have little time to process the weather as you’re slightly awed by the sight in front of you. A shiny black limo sat waiting, for you, still glistening in the nearly completely set sun. Either the thing was brand new or it was meticulously cared for.

You are so zoned in on the sheer extravagance of your ride you nearly miss the man, who would be your driver, calling your name.

“Miss,” He calls, opening the door and beckoning to slip into the warmth of your vehicle.

“Sorry,” you say with a bit of an embarrassed smile, “I’m not usually an airhead I promise.”

He gives you a polite quirk of his lips, “I promise, ma’am, I hadn’t noticed such a thing at all.”

You would have been grateful for the overlooking of your moment of ditziness if you hadn’t looked into the man’s eyes. While he was seemingly being polite, there was a bit of judgment in his eyes. Not in a harsh way, more like he was pursuing you. You felt a little sting in your chest as nervousness prickled down your spine. A part of you felt like you had met someone much more important than just a limo driver.

A “thank you,” slides past your lips as you slip into the vehicle. It comes out much quieter than you hoped it would and you are wondering if the man even heard it over Ari’s excited squealing. You find yourself gulping in relief when he closes the door behind you and makes his way to the driver's seat.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Jo-Jo is quick to notice your change in mood and the slightly pale look on your face the moment that you slip into the vehicle. “Your energy is all off.”

“Yeah, just Calvin warning me about some creeps that have been around the neighborhood,” You lie smoothly. You knew that if you had voiced your concerns that you had just fucked up some sort of first impressions, they would have tried to talk you out of it, and then told your not to give a fuck about what some old man thunk; and you in no way wanted the man to hear that you’d never live it down.

She gives you a look, clearly based on whatever your aura is giving her, that bullshit excuse is not enough. For your sake, though, she brushes it off and casts her gaze out of the window.

It’s not long before the car is moving and the city lights pass you. Aside from the drivers that could be crazy at night, there was something always calming to you about driving at night. Your mother and father used to take you out on late night drives when you couldn’t sleep like as baby and the effect seemed to stick even as an adult.

“This sure is Fancy, chickie,” Ari says pointing her camera at you snapping a quick picture before you could protest. “Like a chocolate goddess.”

The compliment stifles the complaint in your mouth and you feel your cheeks heat up. The only form of protest you manage to squeak out, “Don’t post it yet. You might have to get permission, I don’t know if this is supposed to be private or not.”

“I won’t say where we’re going,” She says almost completely ignoring you as she tags the picture and posts it. The phone is up again as she poses to make sure she gets the perfect selfie. “I gotta do something since there is no music in this bitch.”

Another embarrassed groan passes through your lips.

“This seems like something Kenya should have come to,” Jo-Jo comments mindlessly.

“Why? Because she’s just as uptight as the rest of these one-percenters?” Ari asks with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” Jo-Jo says with a chortle and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Just seemed like it would be her thing.”

You tune the rest of the conversation out. You don’t want to hear any more about what Kenya would have liked, or what she would have done. You had felt guilty enough for taking the job, now you have to feel guilty for not inviting her? Shouldn’t she feel guilty too? She practically sold you to the man after all. This is the way it's going to be, and you weren’t going to apologize first, because you weren’t the one that was wrong first.

There is no telling how long the more than slightly bitter thoughts bounce around in your head. You try to keep them away, feeling yourself frown in irritation the more and more you think about them. But they plague you the whole ride over to Bruce’s party. They absorb so much of your time you almost miss Ari’s declaration of your arrival.

“Holy Shit, Pea,” Ari says with her hand and the glass, face pressed against the window. “You bagged a big one didn’t you?”

You don’t see what she’s talking about until the limo makes its final turn into the driveway.

To say that the manor was impressive would be an understatement. You imagined that the manor must’ve been a grand sight no matter the occasion, but something about seeing it all lit up and people crowded outside as they tried to squeeze their way into the exclusive residence gave it a different feeling. Like it was something out of a fairytale. The nervous energy you had been feeling about attending the party came back at you in full force, and a wave of nausea churns in your stomach.

You close your eyes and try to calm yourself, there is no reason to be nervous. Technically this party is for you after all, and as the guest of honor, you should be able to do anything that you want right? At least that’s how your friends tended to act when it came to parties where they were the center of attention. But you had never been that outgoing or eager enough to command that much attention.

A warm hannd clasps around your shoulder and you turn to see Jo-Jo’s warm eyes looking at you with concern.

“We can go home if you want,” She says smoothly.

Ari, not having noticed your worried disposition jumps in with a scoff, “And waste this outfit? I think not.”

“Shut it,” Jo-Jo says curtly, only momentarily cutting her dark eyes at the young girl before giving you her full attention. “It’s up to you.”

You pull your lip into your mouth biting at the full flesh. Reluctantly, you cast a shy gaze at your excited friend. A thump of guilt runs through you when you see Ari’s arms crossed and full pout on her ruby red lips.

“It’s all right,” you say with a sigh and small. “If it gets too bad I’ll let you guys know and maybe then we can go somewhere else?”

You don’t miss the small pump of excitement that Ari does. Jo-Jo gives a skeptical look but relents with a shrug.

“It’s up to you.”

In no time at all the three of you are escorted to the front door and into the foyer. The place is crawling with socialites and you’re whisked into the Manor so fast you don’t have much time to appreciate the decadence of the building.

You hear the man that drove you here ask you not to move, that Bruce would be down to escort you through the party and you find yourself planted in front of the door, moving side to side whenever people would leave or enter.

“This is bullshit,” Ari says after the fifth couple squeezes by you. “Look at them schmoozing. I want to schmooze. Find a rich guy to take care of me.”

“We’re here to support our pea,” Jo-Jo chides the younger girl.

But you can see the bored look come across her face as she surveys the party. A guilty feeling wells up in your chest.

“You know now that we are here I feel much better, you don’t have to stay here with me, I’m sure Bruce will be down in just a minute. I’ll be fine.”

Ari looks at you skeptically her red lips pulling down into a frown.

“Really, I’m fine, go and have fun.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the girl says with a devious grin on her face.

She moves so fast that she’s almost a blur as she disappears into the surprised crowd. It isn’t long until you hear her chatting and she has a little circle around her, the people enraptured by her gift to seemingly make anything interesting.

When you look back at your other friend you see her eyes locked onto a painting across the room.

“You can go check it out,” you say with a nudge and smile.

She casts a pensive glance at you, rocking back and forth on the heels of her boots as she tries to decide if she is going to leave to fend for yourself.

“This might be your only chance to see it,” you comment nonchalantly. “Who knows I may get fired next week and we’ll never be invited to one of these things again.”

Jo-Jo lets out an unconvinced snort, “Not likely.”

And though your friend is standing her ground you can see her eyes fluttering around the room, different paintings now becoming apparent to her. You knew it was taking everything in her not to run over and examine each one.

“Go,” you nudge her, “I’ll be fine.”

She hesitates for a moment before giving you a nod. Her long-form elegantly and nonchalantly striding to the first painting that caught her eye.

You give her a wave as she goes over. A sigh forces itself out past your lips. You were always happy to see your friends having fun, but still, you wished you could be a little more clear about what you wanted. You did want them to stay and wait with you, hell you would have stuck by them the whole night if you could. But what kind of friend would you be if you held them, hostage, the whole night?

Still, it had been about ten minutes since you were asked to wait here and you were starting to get weird looks from other partygoers. The smile you had plastered on your face to make it seem like you were supposed to be there, was starting to make your cheeks ache.

Aimlessly you begin to wander around the party, never straying too far from the front door, you could at least look like you were trying to blend into the party. You peek into one of the rooms and you’re a little stunned by what you see. Standing in what looks like a well-furnished kitchen stood a man surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. They seemed entranced by the man, judging by the goofy smile on their faces and the way they leaned in to listen to what he said. When he laughed they laughed, almost like he was a puppet master controlling the room.

Almost as if he could feel you staring at him he turns his head slightly giving you a view of his profile. You’re stunned and a little confused by his appearance. Thick dark hair and expressive blue eyes, if you didn’t know any better you’d your experiment had done too good of a job; reducing Bruce to someone only a year or younger than you were.

His eyes, or at least the one you can see from where you are, widens in recognition and you could swear you could see a smirk cross his face before he turned his attention back to the crowd in front of him.

Why did he look at you like that, like he knew exactly who you were? Did you know any Bruce Wayne mini me’s?

A warm hand wraps itself around your waist, and you can swear you can feel every finger searing into your skin. You would have jumped if a familiar scent hadn't washed over you calming you instantly. You look up wide-eyed into the smirking face of your date and have to fight to keep a relieved smile from washing over your face.

“Bruce,” You say with a breathy sigh. The relief in your tone made the smirk on his face deepened, something you weren’t sure was even possible.

“You look surprised,” He said, a smug tone permeating his voice. “It is my house, I’m pretty sure that I’m allowed to be here.”

You smack his arm slightly, pushing the fact that his arm is still wrapped around you and that it feels good to the back of your mind.

“It’s not that,” you say with a bit of a pout. “I’ve been running around here looking confused and then…”

You let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, casting a glance over your shoulder at the gentlemen who still had that entire room wrapped around his finger.

“I thought...”

“You thought that I suddenly de-aged twenty years?” He questioned with a slight chuckle as his gaze only briefly flickered over to the man.

“More like thirty,” You say your tone beginning to match his smugness.

“Harsh,” He says with a faux pout. “That’s my son, well one of them."

“Son?” You question with furrowed eyebrows. The fact that he has multiple of them doesn’t even register in your ears.

“Adopted,” he says with a nod of his head, “All except one.”

The way he says it, it’s almost like he expected you to know about the existence of his children. And perhaps you should have, it was more than likely that there was some kind of profile or at least picture out in the world somewhere. He was exorbitantly famous after all, and in Gotham, you imagined that there was no detail about his life you could avoid unless you were trying to do so. Well, unless it was someone like you who lived under a rock, almost completely cut off from the social world. Unless you counted the few fake accounts that you had to keep tabs on your favorite groups and the proper way to wash your face and arch an eyebrow.

“Sons,” If you were capable of being upfront about the complexities of your mind, you would have told the man in front of you that you were about to zone out for the next sixty-seconds so you could properly determine your feelings on the subject. But you weren’t and so you stared at the man with a slightly narrowed gaze and parted lips.

Didn’t bachelor usually mean, like no attachments? Or maybe it usually didn’t matter whether or not men had children when they were rich and handsome because they were rich and handsome men. 

And how would you feel about dating a man with children? Granted, from looking at the...man? Boy? Maybe boy was more appropriate. There were times where you still felt more like a girl than a woman. He was old enough to not give a shit about what his father did. But what about the rest? What if they were significantly younger? And what if they didn’t like the fact that their father was flitting around town with someone who still felt like a girl? What if they thought you were some kind of leech?

There is a warm hand on your face and a large thumb runs over your cheekbone comfortingly. If there was a word to describe the feeling of suddenly refocusing you would have used it. You blink and suddenly you find yourself looking into concerned blue irises. Had they always been as nice as they were tonight? Maybe it was just the fancy lighting of the chandeliers he had in his house.

“Are you all right?” He says with furrowed brows and a slight frown quirking on the edge of his lips.

You find yourself a little taken aback. Perhaps it was the first time you found him to be genuinely concerned. Like he was afraid of rejection. Any other time there would have been at least a spark of playfulness in his eyes. A hint that he wasn’t taking everything seriously. But this was different. He was wondering if this was a deal-breaker for you, and what that would mean for your “relationship.”

Suddenly, a feeling runs over you. Perhaps it was the pitiful look in his eyes or the frown on his lips. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the thumb that was still running over your cheekbone so delicately, as if you were made of glass. But you decided that you didn’t care about his sons. Not that you didn’t care if they existed or not or about their being. But they weren’t something that seemed like baggage, it was just a part of him. And you would love that part of him just as much as you loved everything else.

Love?

“No,” you say, voice slightly trembling but your hand coming up to cover his. “I’m not alright.”

He takes a deep breath, a sigh almost, and you aren’t sure what it means. He doesn’t pull away from you and he doesn’t look like he’s taken your words as rejection. Could it be that he felt the same way you did? Or at least he had been reading you just as much as you had been reading him.

“Pea! Where are you?!”

The high pitched squeal snaps you out of the moment that you had been having with your date. A slightly embarrassed chill runs its way down your back as you see a slightly twirling figure begin to spin it's way toward you.

The younger girl comes to a perfectly placed pose in front of you, a hand on her hip and flute of champagne poised in her hand.

“This place isn’t that bad, no Megan The Stallion or City Girls or anything to shake my ass to or even do a little two-step or a jig, but this shit right here,” she stops to shake the flute and downing it. “And those little cheese things they have going around on those fancy plates are totally worth it.”

If you weren’t in public perhaps you would have slapped a hand to your face. Or maybe if you had been anywhere else or at anyone else’s party you wouldn’t have cared. It was just Ari being Ari after all. But here you felt not embarrassed, but worried? What if he didn’t accept your friends and the way they were? You’d have to cut him off then and you really didn’t want to.

As if sensing your worry, Bruce makes the first move.

“Well, I’m sure that I can find someone around here to liven up the music here,” He says with a charming smile affixing to his face.

Ari considers him for a minute, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you for little more than a hot second.

“No need to worry about it on my account,” she says an easy smile crossing her face. “Between you and me if you played anything with any kind of beat to someone might have a heart attack.”

She ends it with a friendly nudge to the ribs and tossing a swift look over her shoulder at a few couples who were looking at the three of you with more than a little bit of interest. With the frowns on their faces, you couldn’t rightly tell if they were upset that they hadn’t gotten the chance to enrapture the billionaire the way the two of you had or if there was something a little more sinister flowing through their thoughts.

“Between you and me, that might be the most exciting thing that's ever happened at one of these things,” He quips back.

The two share a laugh and your tense shoulders finally come down from your ears, relaxing as you realized that this whole thing was going much better than you had envisioned it going.

"Arianna Van Buren,” she says, giving him an elegant hand for him to shake.

You’re a little surprised that she’s given him her full name. She’s always hated people knowing she came from a wealthy family, especially one with a recognizable name.

“Bruce Wayne,” he says cordially, but without the pomp, he usually gives when he’s throwing his weight around. “Van Buren, Real Estate right?”

“This one is a dancer,” she says, a little haughty. “But I’m not in the Russian Ballet so I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”

“Ouch,” he says laughing good-naturedly.

And while you’re sure that the jibe didn’t bother him, you are a little surprised when the arm around your waist pulls tighter to him. Ari notices too, and a small smirk crosses her lips.

Feeling a little bashful you turn your gaze away from the pair. It just so happens that you find yourself, looking back at his son. Only there is another one there with him, this one slightly taller than the first but younger. He flashes his gaze at you when the older one tells him you're looking and winds up turning around, a little abashed. The older one, seemingly more than comfortable mortifying strangers, waves at you with a smile.

'Oh God' you think with a shudder of anxeity rolling through your shoulders. 'This is really happening isn't it?'

As if destined by the gods of making you crazy, Ari notices that you have checked out of their little sparring match. And while she normally was a little gregarious and never rude, she seemed to lose her train of thought when she glanced over at the boys who were talking about the three of you.

Bruce is also quick to notice that her attention has turned elsewhere.

“My sons,” He starts with a hint of pride in his voice. Even though he wasn’t their biological father he was still proud of the men that they had become. “Dick Grayson and Tim Drake.”

“Uh-huh,” the enraptured girl replied.

A sinking feeling explodes in your belly as a grin spreads over her face. She’s quick to cover it up though, turning to face the two of you with a doe-eyed look on her face. You shuddered at its appearance, it was something that she always did when she found a new person that she’s set her eyes on.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to go mingle with the rest of the guests,” She says with a light tone, betraying the sinister intention she had for one or both of the brothers.

“Ari I don’t thin-,” You begin to warn as she flutters her way across the room. The hand on your waist squeezes slightly and you cast a questioning gaze to the man beside you.

“They’ll be all right,” He says with a bit of a smirk. “They’ve been in hairier situations.”

“But,” you begin in protest, turning to look at the group, or pair now. Dick, the older of the two had snuck off somewhere. But Ari didn’t seem to mind too much, she seemed to settle her mind on Tim, the much more reserved of the two. As she flirted, you could see the blush beginning to spread across his cheeks from across the room. “She might eat him.”

The older man nearly lets out a snort, the notion seems absurd. “Trust me, he’ll be fine.”

You relax slightly, who were you to get in the way. They were adults after all, and if he was so sure that they’d be fine maybe they would be.

“If you say so,” you relent.

“Good,” he says, flashing you a winning smile. He begins to lead you away from the room. “Let me give you the tour of the place.”

As if he knows the hesitation in your mind he sweeps you away from the congested foyer and the rest of the downstairs rooms, choosing to take you upstairs and show you the art decorating his walls. Normally, you would have been a little wary of him leading you away from the party, he would use whatever chance he got to tease you, but this time you were grateful. You could deal with the prying eyes at work; for some reason working at Wayne Enterprises meant that someone was always watching you, even if they didn’t have anything to do with your job. But you supposed it made some sort of sense. After all, the company was practically the lifeblood of the city. It made sense that not only would people be curious but that they would be critical of any mistake or flaw. The difference from work and this place was the simple fact you couldn’t just leave a conversation whenever you felt like it with some sort of fleeting excuse. That would be seen as rude, and lord knows you didn’t want to be known as the rude black girl at Bruce Wayne’s party. That would follow you anywhere you went.

The upstairs part of Wayne manor is as quiet as it is beautiful. There were a few guests who had also escaped the heard downstairs to admire some of the truly beautiful pieces in Wayne’s collection. Luckily, those people weren’t inclined to stop what they were doing to kiss the ass of their host. Judging by some of the fleeting glances that they paid the billionaire, you doubted that they cared much about him in the first place.

He seemed particularly inclined to steer you toward one room in the house specifically. And when he opened the door of said room, you almost let out a snort of excitement.

“Look at all the books!” You swoon walking into the private library and letting your fingers run over the spines of the books on the first shelf that was accessible to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say with a bit of a dreamy smile.

"It is, isn't it?" He says with a small admiring smile on his face. There was a bit of wonder in his eyes. You imagined that he adored the place. "I don't think that I appreciated it as much as I do now that I'm older."

"I don't expect children to be too excited about a library or invested in the intricacies of fine architecture," You joke.

"True, but I'm a little embarrassed to admit that it took me a lot longer to appreciate it then it should have."

After your chuckles fall quiet you find yourself examining not just the books but the room in general. Being in the manor was like being in a movie. His library not only boasted a pair of the most comfortable chairs that you had probably ever seen but they were also placed in front of the fireplace. Real or fake you couldn’t tell, but the crackling sound that came from the area gave the room a homey feeling, despite it being anything other than homely.

“Is this your family?” you ask, eyes coming to rest on the large portrait of a family. The room was dark and so the faces of the adults were obscured but the stoic face of the young boy in the middle gave you no doubts about what this was a painting of.

He doesn’t answer immediately and you turn to look over your shoulder at the man.

His face was passive, but the intensity of his eyes told you that he was thinking hard about what to say to you next.

While you had not understood who the man was when you had first moved to the city, it wasn’t long into your tenure at Wayne enterprises that you had heard nearly his entire life story. Not only at the office by gossiping employees but also on the news. It seemed that any chance they got to do some sort of expose on the man’s life they did it fully. And because of that, you feel a little bit of guilt begin to swell up in your belly. Perhaps it would have been better to say nothing. Judging by the pensive expression on his face, you were almost certain that the wound from that tragic day had never truly healed.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” he said after another moment of silence. “If I had a problem with you seeing it I wouldn’t have brought you here. It’s just-”

“It still hurts,” you finish when he trails off. And while you cannot say that you could necessarily understand the pain that he was going through, there were hurts in your past that you still hadn’t completely gotten over so you could understand how something so dramatic could still affect him now.

“Can I ask why you brought me here?”

He looks at you slightly surprised, “Sorry did I get it wrong? I assumed you would like to see something like this.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say slightly put off that your tastes were simple enough to be sussed out so easily. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” He questions as he takes a few steps toward you closing the distance between you.

Your breathing hitches slightly when he’s directly in front of you and you can feel a rush of heat flood it’s way up to your cheeks. It gets worse when you try to meet his gaze as you begin to realize that it’s just a man you may or may not have feelings for locked in a semi-lit room, away from the prying eyes of the party guests. As the thoughts run through your head you realize you can’t exactly hold his gaze for more than a few seconds without feeling small.

“I’m just not a party person,” you admit somewhat bashfully. “At least not this kind of party.”

“Oh, and what kind of parties do you actually like?” His tone is slightly teasing, and from the slight way that he’s leaning back, you realize that he’s trying to make you more comfortable.

“The kind where I get dressed up and sit in my living room and watch movies all night.”

You cringe slightly as the words come out of your mouth. Ari had scolded you on that very behavior when you were in school. You had told her that you fully booked Friday night. Being suspicious, she came to your room only to find you swinging around a lightsaber while Return of the Jedi was playing in the background. From then on she’d never believed you when you said you were busy.

“Kind of weird, huh?” You say a hand coming up to rub at the back of your neck as nervousness had begun to overtake your body.

“Not at all,” he replies simply.

While you’re feeling nervous you can’t help but flick up a skeptical glance at the man who simply gives you a reassuring smile.

“If you think that I couldn’t tell this wouldn’t have been something that you would be super excited about you’d be mistaken,” he says looking at you seriously.

“Then why the party then if you knew I wouldn’t like it?” You question eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“To be honest, I like to think of myself as more or less traditional when it comes to things like this. And if you had been anyone else maybe I would have simply asked you to dinner first or maybe the movies since you seem fond of those.”

The little jab causes a small smile to rise on your lips.

“But being that you are a person who would rather stay in than go out on the town, I figured this was the best way to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Have our first date,” he says with a smirk on his face.

“This isn’t exactly what I would call a ‘date’ even if I am your date,” you say pursing your lips slightly. Though you should have expected the flirtation, you after all invited it. “And why wouldn’t you think that I would like to go out to dinner? Don’t tell me you’d be embarrassed by me.”

If he had been someone with bad intentions, you are sure that the last line would have gotten some sort of reaction out of him. But he didn’t even flinch. A part of you wonders if it’s because he’s so good at maintaining his cool or if he really wouldn’t have cared what people would have had to say about him being out with you. You weren’t blind to the fact that you and your friends stuck out as soon as you walked into his manor. But you also weren’t inclined to be hidden like someone’s dirty little secret.

“Embarrassed?” He questions with a click of his tongue, a chiding edge to his tone.

It happens before you can blink. Your body pulled toward him in an instant. To stop yourself from crashing into the man your hands come up to meet the man's chest.

His arm is wrapped around your waist like it was earlier, but it feels different now. You aren’t being shielded away from the prying eyes of the other guests. It’s just you and him and it feels different.

There is an urge to look away to save yourself from the indignity of the doe-eyed stare you would surely give him. But he seems to be able to read your body language and acts before you can.

The warmth of his free hand runs over your chin and down your neck as he tilts your chin up to look at him.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” he says with his tone low as if he was afraid that someone else would hear you. His voice rumbles in his chest and it sends butterflies twirling from your throat down to the very bottom of your tummy. “If I had taken you to dinner, or a movie, and someone saw us what do you suppose would happen?”

“I-I don’t know,” you say thickly trying to keep unnecessary words from spilling out of your mouth. “I suppose we’d have to tell H.R.”

You can see him having to stifle his laughter, in the end, a few chuckles escape in its place.

“That too,” he said when he had collected himself. “But as someone who values their privacy, I thought it’d be obvious why I didn’t want to force you out into the public.”

‘Into the public?’ You question yourself. Due to the haze of attraction and the heat of embarrassment clouding your mind, it takes you a minute to catch on to what he means.

“Oh,” you say blinking in realization. In truth, it was something that you could have easily figured out yourself if your mind wasn’t already addled. Since becoming aware of the man you couldn’t count how many expose’s and covers of local newspapers and magazines had his face on them. It was like every move he made, no matter how trivial it was, made headlines.

“I didn’t think you wanted paparazzi following your every move or digging up your personal life, just because you went on one date with me.”

He was right that perhaps that wouldn’t be what you would want normally. But things weren’t normal right now were they? And when it came to him nothing would ever be normal. If you had agreed to a proper date with him would you be able to stand it? And what if I didn’t work out? Would they scorn you and call you names? Or worse. What would happen if it did work out? Would you want to deal with the scrutiny that would come with? The questioning about your intentions, especially when it came to his money. And an even scarier thought would be having to deal with all, the insidiousness of innuendos. About your color, your shape, even your femininity.

“I want to go to dinner.”

It tumbles out before you can stop yourself but you know you mean it, even if you normally wouldn’t be brave enough to say it.

“Are you sure?” He asks his voice no more than a whisper. His arm pulls you against him even tighter leaving almost no space in between the two of you. The fabric of your dress you can feel him pressed against you. He is solid and warm and your hand can’t help but trail down his form before grabbing onto and scrunching the lapel of his suit. Later some would notice the slight wrinkling of his suit. Perhaps they would fix their mouth to make a snide comment, but think better of it.

“Mm-hmm,” you say with a nod.

Words were beginning to fail you now as your eyes had begun to leave his eyes and instead focus on his lips that were dangerously close to touching yours.

“Positive?” He teases his head dipping over yours.

Perhaps showing your age you pout slightly and decide to be brave. The balls of your feet have to bear your weight as you push yourself up slightly.

And with barley sigh your lips catch his.