#they arms out and do a waggle or at least what looks like one)

[theblankest123]

Quick thing, but I like to think that Mashuma and Kamonelo would be buds.

Mashuma prefers to hang out in the backwhile Kamo doesnt seem to like it that much but as the team healer, that's often where they end up. But then they start to hang out with Mash, who is quite shy and doesn't speak much but is a good listener, so Kamo can drop all their thoughts and ideas onto them :]

[whirlybirbs]

BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST   |   AO3  |    SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing:  a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. 

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague. 

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock." 

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches. 

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate. 

ALL I WANT  TO DO IS  GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot. 

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah. 

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig. 

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade. 

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was. 

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...? 

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all. 

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear. 

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter. 

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows. 

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future. 

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning. 

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not. 

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action. 

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused. 

You hope it all works out for her in the end. 

But, Christ this coffee is bitter. 

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am. 

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work. 

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior. 

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract. 

And so this has been home for the last four months. 

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras. 

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers. 

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one. 

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern. 

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny. 

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it. 

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do. 

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now. 

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you. 

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark. 

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK. 

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to. 

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131. 

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it". 

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door. 

Your boots follow in a trail. 

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo. 

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief. 

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again. 

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too. 

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline. 

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different. 

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that. 

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday. 

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time. 

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London. 

1977, huh. Zaniac. 

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled. 

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet. 

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone. 

And he's here, wasting his damn time. 

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time. 

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks. 

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes. 

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in. 

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?" 

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact. 

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time. 

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki. 

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis. 

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt. 

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin. 

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers. 

He has to... He...

He needs you back. 

Now. 

[comatosebunny09]

You can’t be serious.

“Babe,” he sighs for the umpteenth time, brushing his hair from his face.

His forehead’s all wrinkly, and he swears you’ve aged him by at least ten years.

“Cool, right?”

Leon groans, studying the bathroom and whatever’s got you buzzing around like a toddler excited to show off their macaroni art.

“Is it really necessary?” he cautions, wincing.

You tend to buy whatever lands on your For You page impulsively. Some buys are genuinely worth it, like the air purifiers and the standing desk. Others, however…

He recalls the Daddy hat you bought him, and he visibly shudders.

“course it is!” you trill on tippy-toe, drawing the shower curtain open with so much vigor that you nearly rip the rod from the wall.

Leon deflates like a balloon, resisting an impulse to roll his eyes.

With dramatic flair, you waggle your fingers like you’ve just unearthed all the secrets of humankind. Wear a goofy and lopsided smile, and he wants to hug you so hard.

“Ta-da!”

A glance skyward reveals what you’re so proud of. Black brass and the span of your bathtub, positioned just below the ceiling, Leon sees—

“It’s a tandem shower!” you complete his thought, bouncing about like you’ve had too much caffeine.

He sighs once more, fixing you with a look. Still, you don’t waver. Instead, you grab his hand, jerking him closer until his shin knocks against the tub’s edge.

“It’s awesome, see? This way, we can both be in the shower, and it’s sexy. And neither of us has to be cold because there’s two shower heads!”

Your eyes shine like stars shooting across the nebula. Leon feels something pull in his chest, and no matter how much he wants to stomp and groan and tell you how utterly ridiculous this is, he just—can’t.

You’re bloody adorable. His weakness. His Kryptonite. This would explain why your home is filled with miscellaneous trinkets, do-dads, and other things that will sit in your closet collecting dust in a few months.

With a smile twitching his lips, Leon pats your head. Can’t help how his eyes crease so fondly and his tone grows brassy with tenderness.

“Good job, babe.”

You’re the equivalent of an emoji, the way your face warms up and your smile splits your face in twain. You’re like a little tea kettle, fit to blow in a love surge, and goddamit, he’d give you the world.

“Wanna try it out?” you state more than ask.

Another sigh, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a migraine pulsing in his temple.

“Babe, I already showered at the—”

Damn that wobbly lip thing you do. That way you shake your shoulders and pin him with those puppy-dog eyes.

“—sure.”

You clap your hands with a squeal, buzzing about the bathroom to grab things for the shower.

And maybe, he thinks above folded arms, leaning against the wall with all the gentleness of the world nestled amongst his features. Maybe this one buy isn’t so bad.

Especially after you slip out of your shirt and toss it at him.

[cyborg-franky]

Hi! I have a request : an headcanon of sabo, ace and law (separate) react to a usually shy reader asking to bath together ? (I don’t mind any pronouns by the way)

Anyway have a good day/ night and don’t forget to eat and hydrate !!

Ace x GN Reader Law x GN Reader Sabo x GN Reader SFW

Ace

He laughed when he heard you ask to bathe together, not a mean laugh but one of disbelief. You were just so damn shy that hearing those words from you just tickled him.

Ace blinked a few times when you played with the hem of your sweater and avoided eye contact with him, that was when he stopped laughing and cleared his throat. 

“Really?” He asked and you nodded. When you did force yourself to stop staring at the floor and meet his eye you could see a dusting of blush across his freckled cheeks.

That was surprising. The way Ace talked to people, he would brag about flirting with people whenever the ship was docked. But he was shifting in place, the blush growing as he rubbed the back of his neck, mulling it over.

“Yeah, we can if ya wanna?” He wanted, needed, to hear you confirm again. He didn’t want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

“I do,”

Ace’s unsure smile soon turned into a big grin as he sprung up from his seat and offered you his hand. “Let's go then!” he said, winking, his usual confidence back in full swing once he knew this was your idea and you wanted this as much as him.

“I’ll try to behave,” he said with a playful waggle of his eyebrows which had you rolling your eyes with a chuckle, taking his hand and feeling him pull you eagerly in the direction of the bathroom.

Law

“Excuse me?” He asked, pausing from what he was doing, setting down the book and looking at you. You felt the weight of his scrutinizing gaze as grey eyes peered into your soul, at least that's how you felt.

Trying not to shrink under the intensity of his stare you bit the inside of your cheek trying to summon up the courage to repeat yourself “I was just curious if you wanted to go have bathe together. I thought it would be romantic.. Relaxing…”

Law sat back in his seat and hummed. “That’s what I thought you said,” He clicked his tongue as he adjusted in his seat. Neither of you were very forward with such things so it had taken him by surprise when his normally shy partner asked such a thing.

“How about a shower instead? I don’t like baths, it’s st-” “Stewing in your own filth, I know, I know.” You grinned when he blinked at you after you finished his sentence. Law crossed his arms over his chest and just chuckled in response. “Yes, a shower sounds great.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, giddy that he had agreed and you watched him stand up, nodding for you to lead the way.

Sabo

Sabo stared at you with wide eyes when you asked him that, it wasn’t so much that he knew you to be so shy it was his own hangups on his body. He rubbed his arms, scars hidden by the long sleeves as he looked around the room, not wanting to make eye contact with you.

“Really?” He asked, unsure himself. You seemed to deflate at how he was reacting, you thought he would be surprised to hear that coming from you but he seemed sort of against it which made you regret asking for such an intimacy with him.

“You don’t have to, I just thought it might be nice?” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to act like you weren’t upset by his beating around the bush on his way to refusing you.

“No, no, no, it’s not like that!” He waved his hands before grabbing your shoulders when you tried to back out of the situation. “I just… Not many people have seen how I look without clothes…” 

You worked it out, everything tumbled into place. It wasn’t you it was how he saw himself.

“Don’t worry about your scars, I love every part of you Sabo.” You said, gently reaching up to rub his cheek, feeling the scar that covered his face. “I promise.” You felt him place his hand on yours and he nodded. “Alright, let's do it,”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 111

Part 1 Part 110

Steve twitches through his morning classes. Something had flipped within him when he’d wrapped his pinkie around Eddie’s and Eddie shook his hand like that would amplify the promise. The trepidation had fled as he’d looked up into Eddie’s trusting face. Now he’s excited. 

He wants to tell Carol first, always. Steve needs her colorful commentary to make this all feel real.

Each class seems to tick on longer than the last. Lunch should be a relief, but they’re not alone. Carol waggles her eyes at him, making pointed head tilts toward Eddie that Steve hopes he misses. Steve kicks her under the table and makes conversation with Doug, determined to ignore her for the rest of the break.

Steve considers skipping his next class, but that’ll only make the minutes stretch longer as he hides away, waiting for Carol to be free. 

So he stays, staring at the clock, barely cognizant of what class he’s in, much less what the teacher’s saying. Barbara would not be impressed. 

Steve’s the first one out of the room when the bell rings. He rushes to the library, where he knows Carol will be heading. 

Steve’s just glad her study hall lines up with gym; Tommy’s bound to be more hostile than usual, and Steve wouldn’t mind giving him another day or two of space before he has to see him again. 

The halls are crowded as people rush to their next class before the bell rings. Steve misses her approach in the crowd as she’s dwarfed by everyone around her, but luckily, she’s not one to miss a chance to bitch.

“Are you going to tell me your stupid plan now?” she demands as she saunters past him, heading toward the library. 

Steve latches onto her forearm and tugs, ignoring her complaints as she runs a few steps to keep up with his fast pace. 

“What the hell, Harrington?” she asks, elbowing him in the ribs. “Where are we going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “We can’t go to the library,” he replies, pushing the side doors of the school open and pulling her out into the cool air with him. “Way too many witnesses.”

“And that means we’ve gotta be out in this cold?” He doesn’t bother responding as he tugs her through the parking lot and to their destination. “Seriously?”

Steve pulls the passenger door of Eddie’s van open and slides in, leaving it open for Carol to clamber up after him. “He never locks that side.”

She closes the door behind herself, encasing them in the safest place Steve could think of on school grounds. It’s chilly, but nowhere near as bad now that the wind’s locked out. 

Steve sits in the back on Eddie’s stained carpet, propping his feet up on the hump where the tire travels partially into the body of the vehicle. Carol picks her way through Eddie’s belongings and trash to settle across from him, throwing one of Eddie’s abandoned hoodies at Steve’s face to make room.

“We couldn’t do this in the bathroom again?” she asks, wrapping her arms around her own knees. “It’s at least warmer in there.”

Steve throws Eddie’s hoodie back at her and she slides it on with a shrug. “Less dirty at least.” 

“Smells less like piss.” She locks their legs together, just like last time, settling more fully into the side of the van now that she’s bundled up. “Now tell me your plan.”

Steve nudges his foot into hers as he tries to string his thoughts into words. As familiar with his idiosyncrasies as Carol is, she knows not to rush him. 

“You know my thing with my closet?” he asks.

She nods. Tommy was the first one to bear witness to him sliding into his closet when his parent’s voices raised, but Carol was the first person to slide in after him.

“Well, he does, too.” Steve’s looking down at his own twiddling fingers, smiling. They’d barely known each other that first time, but even still, they’d stayed pressed together, and Eddie hadn’t asked. “So, I’m going to bring him there, and tell him how I feel.” 

When he looks up from his hands, Carol’s staring at him like he’s a bug she squashed beneath her shoe. “That’s it?”

Steve glares as he replies, “that’s the first place I ever wanted to kiss him!” When she just keeps staring at him, he continues, vehement in his own defense, “and it’s where he saved me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just give him roses?”

“It’s romantic!”

Steve kicks her shin, and it’s not long before they’re all-out brawling. Carol grabs his hair and pulls, so he bites her forearm in retaliation. Hard.

She shrieks, shoving him off and scuttling away, laughing. “Freak!”

“Loser.”

“Poser!”

“Loverboy.” 

Carol says the last one with a suggestive drawl that makes Steve’s cheeks heat. He crosses his arms and glares across the van at her. 

“Whatever, Perky Perkins.” 

Carol gasps, holding her hand to her own chest in faux shock. “You promised to never use that one!”

Steve kicks out his foot again, gentler this time as he links their legs back together. “I never promised anything.”

They’re smiling at each other like capricious middle schoolers. Steve’s in love. 

“You’re sure he’ll like it?” she asks, gentle this time as she smiles at him. 

Eddie’s always been able to read him, root around in Steve’s brain until he finds the meaning behind each action. 

Steve nods firmly, just once.

Carol rolls her eyes. “Alright, well, let’s at least practice what you’re going to say.” She clutches onto his calf and squeezes. “You be Steve, and I’ll be your devoted lover.”

She flutters her lashes like the lead in a romance movie, leaning forward and puckering her lips for a kiss. Steve laughs, shoving her face away from him. “Shut up.”

They do practice, Carol beaming and laughing at him in measure at each sentence he stumbles over until they’re both satisfied. 

Steve’s not sure what time it is, but the period’s got to be counting down. Neither of them make a move to get up from where they’re now sprawled on the carpet of Eddie’s van among all of his abandoned things. 

“Are you going to tell him about me?” she asks. Steve turns his head to look at her. Her eyes are damn near twinkling as she continues, “and Tommy?”

She shuffles her shoulders like she’s shaking her tits, but she doesn’t get up for it, so mostly, it just looks like her back’s itchy. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies. It had never been a secret, really, but Tommy was too painful of a button to push, and he’d been all tangled up in Carol until yesterday. “Are you going to tell Barbara?”

Carol shrugs, twitching her fingers out to latch onto the belt loop of his jeans. “Maybe.”

They stay like that until the bell rings a few minutes later, both rushing out of the van to get to their respective classes. 

Now that plans are set and Carol’s informed, Steve can settle back into his skin. He wants to do it today–whisk Eddie off to his house and plant one on him. But the day’s not over yet, and Eddie wouldn’t cancel Hellfire for flood or famine, so tomorrow’s got to be the day. 

Steve loiters in the drama room after school, half-assedly working on homework as Eddie leads his session with an iron fist.

He lends half an ear to the proceedings, smiling down at his work as all the guys clamor for Eddie’s blood in raised voices. Steve’s afraid the commotion never seems to get them kicked out.

Even when the session’s over and they’re alone in the van, Eddie never asks if Steve’s ready to spill.

He doesn’t ask when they got home, or over dinner, or that night when they lay side by side in bed. 

He continues not asking all throughout the next day–between driving, and classes, and lunch side-by-side. Steve feels Eddie’s silence like a pinky around his finger. 

It’s not until they’re back at the trailer, the entire weekend stretched out in front of them that Steve links his pinky with Eddie’s and says, “I figured it out.”

Eddie looks down at their pinkies, smiling goofily as he asks, “you're ready?”

Steve thinks about Wayne’s words–you’re part of this family no matter how things shake out, and Eddie’s firm, I’m not giving you back, in the face of his parents abandonment. “I’m ready.”

Eddie makes a noise of surprise when Steve moves to the front door, dropping his schoolbag at his feet. He hesitates at the hook by the door before pulling his own keys down for the first time in months. 

Eddie doesn’t ask. 

The leather smells clean, that new car smell lingering even after these long months, as he slides into the driver’s seat of the beamer. Eddie settles into the passenger seat, the first signs of trepidation on his face. Steve can’t blame him. There’s dust caked into the vents, dirt and leaves covering the windshield. It’s been a long time since she’s been for a drive.

Steve turns the key in the ignition, turns the wipers on to clear the debris, and drives. 

The driveway seems longer, now that he’s used to the Munson’s short walkway. All the windows are dark and empty, almost looming down at him. Steve feels small, suddenly, like he’s a child still, and this is his home. He’s at the mouth of his hungry house, and it’s going to swallow him.

But then Eddie reaches over to squeeze his arm. He looks three seconds away from pushing Steve out of the driver’s seat and forcibly driving them away. Steve smiles, warmth settling back into him. Tug, tug. 

Steve looks back up, and it’s just a house, the only ghosts the bad memories he’d made in it.

He turns the ignition off, and gets out of the car, ready to head into the lion’s den one last time.

Part 112

[peavhyshy]

𝗣𝗘𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦 (oneshot)

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: In which you keep JJ company while he recovers from COVID-19, playing nurse and cuddling up to take care of him.

Warnings: covid-19, sexually suggestive comments, fluff, some angst?, mild language, mention of JJ's dad, JJ kisses reader even though he has COVID, obviously you shouldn't kiss someone if you have covid but this based on that one Lana Del Rey lyric

Words: 1,424

Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Peppers (the lana song)

You knocked on the screen door of the worn-down beach house, peering inside for any signs of life. "JJ?" you called out.

A round of violent coughing echoed from down the hall followed by a raspy voice. "In here!"

You let yourself in, wrinkling your nose at the lingering scent of beer and cigarettes that permeated the Maybank home. You found JJ curled up on the couch, wrapped in a tattered blanket. His nose was red, his blond hair a tangled mess. Used tissues littered the coffee table in front of him.

"You look like death," you said, plopping down on the couch next to him.

JJ cracked a smile. "Thanks, that makes me feel so much better." His voice was hoarse.

You playfully hit his arm. "You know what I mean. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just dandy," JJ said. "Peachy keen." He erupted into another fit of coughing.

You grabbed a half-empty glass of water from the table and handed it to him. "Here, drink this."

JJ took a few sips to soothe his throat. "So I'm guessing you got my text about testing positive for the 'rona?"

"Yup, got it this morning," You said. As you absentmindedly pushed JJ's hair back from his sweaty forehead to feel his temperature.

"And you still came over?" JJ asked in disbelief. "I'm like super contagious right now."

You shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a ride or die. Gotta make sure you're okay."

JJ grinned and pulled you in for a big sloppy kiss. You squealed and pushed him away.

"Ew JJ! What the hell?" You dramatically wiped your mouth.

"Hey, you're the one who came to see me, COVID cooties and all," JJ said with a laugh that turned into a cough. "Might as well seal the deal and swap some germs."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. "You're disgusting." you tossed him the TV remote. "Now pick something to watch while I make you some soup or something. We'll ride out this quarantine together."

JJ clicked on the TV, settling back into the couch. "You know, you really are the best."

"Yeah, yeah," you waved dismissively but you were still smiling. "Just don't cough on me anymore."

JJ grinned mischievously at you despite his sickly state. "Don't tempt me, I have no problem about getting you sick too if it means more time with my best girl." He faked a dramatic coughing fit, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you though he could tell you weren't actually annoyed with him.

"You're just loving having me play nurse for you, aren't you?" You joked as you headed to the kitchen. He could get used to being quarantined if you were taking care of him, that was for sure. Maybe he'd milk this illness a little longer than necessary.

JJ stretched out languidly on the couch, the old springs creaking beneath his weight. He grabbed another tissue to blow his nose which was growing raw and irritated from constant wiping. At least he could still vaguely taste and smell - the steaming bowl of soup you soon presented to him was evidence of that.

"You're a lifesaver, I don't know what I'd do without you Y/N," JJ said earnestly after finishing the entire bowl in record time, his appetite apparently unaffected. He playfully patted the spot on the couch next to him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Now, nurse, I believe your patient requires some additional tender loving care, if you know what I mean."

"Come on baby, you know you want to play nurse with me," he cajoled, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. He faked another dramatic coughing fit. "I think I need some mouth-to-mouth resuscitation," he joked, making exaggerated kissing noises.

Truth be told, he just wanted you close to him, to feel your soothing presence. Having you here taking care of him made him feel cared for in a way he rarely experienced from his drunk deadbeat dad. He reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto the couch. You let out a surprised squeak as you fell into his lap. JJ wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck.

"Mmm you smell good," he mumbled, breathing in the sweet floral scent of your skin and hair. You squirmed against him but didn't fully pull away. JJ reached up and playfully tugged on one of your strands of hair.

"Just let me hold you for a bit," he pleaded, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. "It'll help me feel better, I promise." He cracked a mischievous grin. "Unless you want to do more than cuddle…" he added suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

You felt your cheeks flush as JJ pulled you into his lap, his arms holding you close. Despite his illness, that cocky grin of his still made your stomach flutter.

"JJ!" You tried to scold, but couldn't keep the smile off your face. His enthusiasm was infectious. You playfully swatted his hands away as they drifted to your chest.

"Cuddle only mister. I'm immune to those puppy dog eyes," You said firmly. Still, you relaxed into his embrace, nestling your head on his shoulder.

"For now at least," JJ teased, his warm breath tickling your ear. 

Maybe you’d regret this later, but right now taking care of a sick JJ felt natural. He needed you- and knowing that filled you with purpose. You glanced up at him, heart melting at the open affection in his eyes. You reached up and traced the bruise on his jaw from his latest fight.

"I'll always be here to patch you up JJ," you murmured. Impulsively you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. JJ sighed in contentment, tightening his arms around you. For now, you simply held each other, letting the steady beats of your hearts lull you into comfort. The rest of the world could wait.

''Will your dad be back soon?''

JJ glanced nervously at the front door before settling his gaze back on you. "He shouldn't be back for a while," he said quietly. "Went on one of his benders last night so he'll probably sleep through the day."

JJ shifted on the worn couch, wincing slightly as the movement aggravated his sore ribs. He hoped you wouldn't notice - the last thing he wanted was your pity. "I wish he'd just disappear for good," JJ muttered bitterly. He scrubbed a hand across his face, not wanting to dwell on his useless excuse for a father.

"Anyway, enough about him," JJ said, forcing a grin. "I've got way better company right now."

He playfully tugged on one of the hair strands, admiring how the sunlight filtering through the blinds brought out the highlights in your hair. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache. JJ wished he could freeze this moment - just the two of you here together, your kind eyes gazing at him with understanding rather than judgment.

"You're too good to me Y/N," JJ said quietly. Before he could overthink it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. Your skin was petal soft beneath his lips.

JJ pulled back, heart hammering in his chest. He gave you a crooked smile, hoping you couldn't hear how loud it was beating. "So, wanna raid the crappy cable TV options with me? We can trash talk all the awful daytime soaps."

You looked shocked, unable to speak for a few moments before recovering. You composed yourself before answering, "You know I'll always be here for you JJ, whenever you need me." You give him a soft smile, trying to convey your sincerity. If he wants to drop the subject of his father and move on, you'll happily oblige.

"Daytime TV sounds perfect right now. Let's see who can come up with the most ridiculous plot summaries for these shows," You say with a playful grin. You grab the remote and start flipping through channels, settling on a particularly melodramatic soap opera.

Leaning into JJ's side, you point at the screen. "Okay, that guy definitely just found out the kid he's raising isn't actually his. And that woman is clearly his scorned ex-lover who's out for revenge." You dissolve into giggles, amused by your own silly narration.

You are glad to see JJ's somber mood start to lift, a small smile creeping onto his face. Moments like these make all the chaos and hardship feel worth it. As long as you have each other, you'll be okay.

[its-time-to-write]

dress

this is my first time writing for anyone so… i guess we’ll see how it goes. reader and jamie are getting ready for a fancy dinner/benefit thing. it’s cute, a little swearing, no angst. allusion to sex but that’s it. i wrote this mostly for myself because there’s an appalling lack of jamie tartt fics. anyway.

dress

It is 3pm, and you have to leave in an hour and a half to make it to the annual benefit. Jamie goes every year, but this is your first. You had been talking to Keeley about it, lamenting your inability to pick something to wear, when she grabs your arm and says, “Don't worry about it babes! We can pick one out together.”

“Keeley, I’d love too, but I’m absolutely swamped with work. My forty hours are filled with clients, so my free time is basically all notes and treatment plans. That's why I’ve ghosted pretty much everyone except you and Jamie.”

“It's pretty much just Jamie at this point,” she says mischievously. “I’m not sure we would have made it to coffee if we hadn’t made these plans three weeks ago, especially because you didn’t even tap back to that pun I sent that Ted made the other day.”

You laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I am sorry, it’s just been so much work, what with taking on that new case and wrapping up that other one-“

“Like I said babes, don’t worry about it,” she says sympathetically. Her hand is still on your arm. “I totally understand what it’s like bein’ a young woman in business, yeah? We'll talk when it slows down.”

You take breath and nod. You both sit in silence for a moment, and then (because it’s Keeley and she is allergic to silence): “What if I took Jamie with me??”

You look at her, confused. 

“What if I took Jamie with me to pick you out a dress? I know fashion and he knows you, and I think between the two of us we could pick out something absolutely fantabulous! What do you say? I can text him right now.”

Keeley's practically vibrating from excitement, and you know for absolute certain if you say yes, they are going to come home with something the price of your first apartment. You also know they’ll bring you coffee on the way back so really, is there any option other than yes?

——

“No, you can’t see.”

Jamie has a large, nondescript bag that he is holding very tightly and an iced coffee that he is holding less tightly. You swoop in on the coffee as Keeley chimes in with: “It’s a surprise babes. You can’t see it until the benefit.”

Jamie points to her with his bag hand. “See? She agrees.”

You squint at Keeley. “This is why I hate it when you two hang out. You get together, you make plans to torture me and sure, you bring me coffee, but god at what cost?”

Jamie and Keeley are giggling like a pair of kids as you stand, still doing your best to glare and drink your latte. They do this every time, come up with some scheme because they think it’s funny when you get “upset.” It’s like a ritual. They go shopping, spend an inordinately long time, bring you coffee to appease you, and then purposely push your buttons. They feed off of each other like a pair of weird siblings and you love it. They both can tell when you’re too tightly wound and take it upon themselves to get you to laugh. Jamie waggles the bag under your nose which makes you crack a smile as Keeley cheers. “See, I knew you loved us babe. Or at least, I knew you loved me. Jury's still out on what you think of Jamie.”

That brings a full-on laugh as Keeley dances around the kitchen.

“You staying for dinner, Keels?” you ask, although you already know the answer.

“What are you making?” she asks, Jamie behind her mouthing in unison. You suppress the urge to giggle.

“Caprese salad, pesto chicken and pasta, and Thai tea limeade. Oh, plus I made those tiny baguettes you like and Jamie, I put your tea into smoothie form. Got spinach and all that.”

“Hm,” she says, finger to her chin and head tilted. Jamie mimics her. “I suppose that I can stay. Just this once though, and not very long.”

You smile and Jamie comes around the counter to kiss you. 

“I’m going to hide this,” he holds up the bag and points a finger at you “you don’t go looking for it.” He turns to Keeley, “You distract her.”

Keeley stayed her usual short amount of time, a mere six hours, giving you and Jamie a solid four hours of sleep until he has to train.

——

You shake yourself from your reverie as you reach for the dress bag. You unzip it to find something metallic with power shoulders and long sleeves, and are those little spines all over? It is long and black, yet somehow also purple and red. It is, in a word, hideous. You cannot reconcile what you see in front of you with the fact that both Keeley and Jamie picked it out, because they have never failed before, so maybe it looks better on? You sigh and begin to undress.

——

It is not better.

You go to find Jamie, looking fit in a cream hoodie and bubblegum pink suit, who takes one look and begins uncontrollably laughing.

——

“Jaim, listen. Jamie-” you’re cut off as Jamie doubles over in laughter. You’re laughing too as you catch his arms. “Babe- you can’t, you cannot leave me like this. How am I supposed to go the benefit like this? I look like a goth puffer fish!”

Jamie has collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles, taking you with him.

“I- I’m- it-“ he gasps, “it’s so much worse- it’s so much worse than I thought it was going to be!”

You stop mid-giggle. “I’m sorry, it’s what?”

Jamie has laughed himself near tears as he holds your waist.

“Listen. Babe. You are not allowed to be mad at me. But. I may have let Keeley pick out that dress because- because,” he shushes you as you begin to protest, “I knew you would hate it, and you had nothing else to wear, and therefore you would have to wear the one that I got you.”

Your face goes through an inhuman amount of expressions as you process everything he just said, until you land on- “you bought me a dress on your own?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” Suddenly Jamie looks incredibly shy. “Look, babe. I love your style, but the thing is, you like to play it safe.”

You frown, and Jamie holds up both his hands.

“Listen. You play your version of safe, but I think if you gave it a chance, you could expand your repertoire and we can be remembered as the hottest fuckin’ couple alive. Plus, it’s definitely way better than that horrid thing Keeley got.” 

You’re distracted by his correct use of the word repertoire, and all of a sudden you don’t care about wearing the dress anymore. All you can think is that you want it off and that ridiculous, handsome pink suit should come off too, and maybe it would be better if you both were on the bed than on the floor.

Before you can develop this thought further, Jamie is getting up and pulling you with him.

“C’mon, wait till you see it,” he says, maneuvering you out of the bedroom and into a guest room of all places.

“I had to put it somewhere you wouldn’t see it,” he explains.

All the breath has left your lungs as you look at the dress on the bed.

Jamie has purchased a short, lime-green, tulle halter-neck dress with a fluffy train in the back. It's your dream dress. The one you used to look at as a high schooler, a college student; the one that you dreamt of being able to justify; the one you told Jamie about exactly once, and yet somehow, somehow it is right in front of you in your house. 

Jamie’s arms snake around your waist, lips against your neck. “Do you like it?” he murmurs into your skin. You smile at that and turn to put your arms around him. 

“Do I like it?” you grin, “Jamie Tartt, you wonderful, beautiful, thoughtful boy, I love it. How on earth did you remember?”

Jamie smiles back, arrogance clearly written across his expression. “You think I’m beautiful?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s what you got from this you prick? I want to know how you remembered? I mentioned this dress once and somehow, it’s sitting right in front of me because you got it for me.”

Jamie is still grinning. “Tell me how beautiful you think I am, and I’ll tell you how I remembered.”

Your face hurts from so much laughter. “Jamie, you beautiful, beautiful man. I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your lips, your-” you are cut off by his lips on yours. 

“Get changed, yeah? Then I’ll tell you.” You kiss him one more time, then he’s out the door.

——

You hear Jamie clattering around in the kitchen as you put on your shoes. You re-touch your lips and hair, then you’re on your way down the stairs.

“Hi babe,” you say to Jamie’s back, fiddling with the coffee machine.

You’ve never had someone look at you the way Jamie is looking at you now. It's the way you look at a good piece of chocolate cake: with a little bit of reverence, and the desire to devour. You forget to blink for over a minute, trapped in his gaze. 

He breathes out a single, “Holy fuck,” as he walks toward you and spins you off the bottom step. “you look fuckin’ amazing.”

“How did you know?” you ask, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Jamie sets you down on your bubblegum pink heels. “Easy. That was when I first realized I loved ya.”

Your face heats up. “You… realized you loved me… when I was rambling on about a dress I’ve wanted since high school? That was your moment?”

Jamie’s hands are still around your waist, your hands on his biceps. The room is pleasantly spinning a little bit, and a family of butterflies has taken up residence in your stomach. God, all this time with this boy and he still has the ability to make you feel like a giddy teen with a crush.

“Well, yeah babe, kinda obvious why, innit?” You scrunch your nose in confusion as he continues, “I realized you were talking to me like a real person, as Jamie Tartt, human, not Jamie Tartt the footballer. I felt all weird, so I talked to Keeley about it. Called her on the way home that night. After she finished laughing, she told me I was probably in love with you. Hearing it out loud made me realize she was right.”

The words are barely out of his mouth and you’re kissing him again, pulling him closer and closer until the moment is broken with a ding from Jamie’s phone. It's Dani, asking if you can pick him up on your way. Jamie ushers you out the door and into the car, and for a singular, spectacular moment, everything is perfect.

[george-weasleys-girl]

Hii, how are you?

Can I request something from your prompt list? Fred x Ravenclaw, shy and quiet(total opposite of Fred) reader

"I never said I was in love with her!" "Maybe not out loud."

And

"How can I let her know that I worship the ground she walks on, but in, like, a chill way."

Thank you! I love your writing ❤️

Fred x Shy Ravenclaw Reader

~•~

The library is not the place one would think to find Fred Weasley, including Fred himself. The library was for pulling pranks on Filch in the restricted section during the wee hours of the morning, not actual studying. And yet, here he was, chin resting in the palm of his hand, a dreamy gaze on his face, ignoring the open book in front of him. Truthfully, he had no idea what it was about, as he'd grabbed it randomly off a shelf so he could at least appear like he was doing something studious.

"Hey Freddie!" George's voice startled him out of his reverie. "Whatcha up to?" He asked, following his twin's gaze.

"Just, uh, trying to get a bit of studying in," Fred slammed the book closed.

George smirked, picking up the book. "So, what's so engrossing that you forgot we were supposed to start working on our new invention a half hour ago."

Fred looked up at the clock. "Oh shit, sorry Georgie, I must've lost track of time."

"No worries, mate," George said with an absent-minded air, flipping through the book. "An In-Depth Study of Wizarding World Economics. Riveting stuff, no doubt. I can see how time got away from you."

Fred rolled his eyes and snatched the book out of his George's hands before striding out the door. "Are you just going to stand around here wasting time, or are you gonna come help me work on things?"

George chuckled and glanced over at the only reason his twin had graced the library with his presence today. Y/N sat with several other of her fellow Ravenclaws, digging through the mountain of books piled on their table.

Fred had been head over heels for her ever since Professor Sprout paired them up for a project in Herbology. Though he'd never in a million years admit it. George reckoned it was because his twin had no idea how to express himself to someone like Y/N. Most of the time, all Fred would have to do is waggle his eyebrows and give his trademark wink, and girls would be falling all over themselves to get his attention. However, unlike his usual type, Y/N was a shy, quiet bookworm who paid more attention to her newest novel than the flirty overtures of Hogwarts' most notorious prankster and playboy.

~•~

"I think Fred Weasley has a little crush on you," Jess commented as they left the library.

Y/N stared at her friend. "What gives you that crazy idea?"

"Because he barely took his eyes off you the entire time he was in the library."

"Nonsense, he was probably looking at you or Cara. You two are the hottest girls in Ravenclaw."

Jess laughed and nudged Y/N's arm. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

Y/N giggled and shook her head.

"But, in all seriousness," Jess continued. "He was most definitely looking at you and only you."

"Well, even if he was, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know, talk to him maybe."

Y/N sighed. "You know I have trouble talking to guys."

"Or you could just flash him one of your beautiful smiles," Jess suggested. "At least let him know you're interested. You are interested, right?"

"Yeah, a bit," Y/N looked down to try to hide the heat rising in her cheeks.

~•~

"Hey, are you paying attention?" George asked Fred for the second time in a row.

Fred shook himself. "Of course I'm paying attention."

"Then, what did I just say?"

The older twin crossed his arms. "You asked me if I was paying attention."

George rolled his eyes. "Before that."

"Oh," Fred looked down. "Um..."

"Exactly."

"Dammit, I'm sorry, Georgie. My mind's just somewhere else today."

"Obviously," George replied. "Look, if you're so madly in love with Y/N, why don't you just ask her out."

His twin's eyes went wide. "I never said I was in love with her!"

"Maybe not out loud," George said.

Fred sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"A blind man could see it, Freddie."

"Great...so the whole school knows?"

"Well, I wouldn't say the whole school," George said. "Just all of Gryffindor and half of Ravenclaw. And maybe a few Hufflepuffs. And probably one or two Slytherin."

"You're not helping," Fred groaned.

"Ok, ok, sorry," George chuckled. "You could just try talking to her, you know."

"Oh gee, why didn't I think about that?"

"I'm serious, mate. Talking to girls is, like, second nature to you."

"Yeah, but Y/N's different. She's not like the other girls I've dated."

"Oh, you mean like the ones I have to peel off of you with a putty knife?" George asked with a bemused grin.

"Well, yeah," Fred grinned. "But it's more than that. She's the first girl that I've ever really liked, you know, like as a girlfriend and not just a fun fling."

"That's a good thing," George said. "All the more reason to talk to her."

"But she's so sweet and shy. I don't want to come on too strong and scare her off or anything." Fred ran his fingers through his hair. "How can I let her know that I worship the ground she walks on, but in, like, a chill way?"

~•~

Today wasn't the first time the twins had skipped school, nor would it be the last. After receiving a bit of birthday money from their great-aunt, they decided a trip to Hogsmede was in order, sneaking off after breakfast. Neither of them expected to run into another Hogwarts student. And they certainly didn't expect that student to be Y/N.

Honeydukes appeared to be empty of customers when they bounded through the door. For the first time in a while, Fred's mind was on something other than Y/N.

"Our pranks are getting a little lackluster," he said, facing George as he walked backward down the aisle. "We need to make them bigger and better." To emphasize his point, Fred threw his arms out wide as they rounded the corner and felt the back of his hand connect with someone's face.

~•~

Y/N didn't skip school often. It was only when the stress of Hogwarts life got too much that she sought the peaceful atmosphere of Hogsmede during its downtime.

With finals looming on the horizon and a massive research paper for Potions due by Friday, she'd barely lifted her nose from the grindstone in the past few weeks. Add to that her friends' relentless teasing over the Fred Weasley situation, and it was enough to make her scream.

Y/N needed a day off. And she took it, arriving at Honeydukes just minutes after it opened.

Less than a half hour later, she sat sprawled on the floor, dazed, her candy strewn around her in every direction as she tried to figure out what in the hell hit her.

"Are you ok?" Fred knelt down beside her. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea you were there."

"You're what hit me?" Y/N turned her head to look at him. "And right between the eyes, too."

"It was an accident!" Fred stammered. "I swear I didn't see you. We thought we were the only customers in the place."

"That's true," George confirmed, picking up the scattered sweets. "The place is usually pretty dead during the week."

"Oh-yeah--right. It's ok. It's not all your fault. My mind was a million miles away. I should've been paying more attention," Y/N gave a small smile and moved to stand up. Now that the shock had worn off, her cheeks burned at the thought of how ridiculous she must look right now.

"Here, let me help you," Fred offered his hand. She nodded and let him help her up.

"Thanks," she said, taking her basket of candy from George. "I should go pay for my stuff."

As she turned away, Fred spoke. "Hey, um, could I buy you lunch? As a way to make up for almost knocking you out."

Y/N tried to calm her pounding heart while her mind raced almost too fast for her to keep up. The idea of having lunch with Fred Weasley both terrified and thrilled her. Because despite what she'd said to her friends, she did like Fred. More than she wanted to admit. Secretly, she'd hoped he'd ask her out. But not like this. What even was this? It wasn't a date. Or was it? Were all her friends right? Did he really like her, too? Or was this just a friendly gesture? And besides, what would she even talk about? She wasn't prepared at all. Conversing had been easy during their project. She just kept to the subject matter. But, small talk? She sucked at small talk...

"Y/N? Are you sure you're ok?" Fred stepped toward her. George stood behind him, a concerned look on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." The heat rose up in her cheeks again. Dammit.

"I could walk you back to castle if you'd prefer," Fred offered.

As nervous as Y/N was about having lunch with him, it wasn't enough to tempt her to go back to Hogwarts yet. "Um, no, I-I'm ok," she assured him. "Lunch sounds nice."

~•~

"You're the last person I expected to see here today," Fred commented to Y/N while they waited for food at the nearly empty Three Broomsticks.

She gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. "I've been stressing over finals and everything. I needed a break."

"I thought Ravenclaws didn't stress over school," George said.

Y/N almost snorted Butterbeer through her nose. "We stress over school more than anyone else. Why do you think we're studying all the time?"

"She does have a point," Fred agreed, garnering a warm smile from the shy Ravenclaw.

~•~

The sun was setting when Fred and Y/N stood outside Ravenclaw Tower. After spending an afternoon with the infamous Weasley twins, any lingering nerves she had were long gone.

"I had a really fun time today," Y/N said.

"Me too," he grinned. "You know, I was thinking, if you want, we could do this again sometime. Just you and me, though."

"I'd like that a lot."

"Really?! Okay, great!" Fred all but bounced in place. "So, it's a date?"

"Yeah, it's a date," Y/N confirmed, a smile spreading across her face.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @imshiningjustforyou @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16

[pizzaqueen]

This was meant to be a 200 word thing in case I don’t get my bigger fic for today finished but it ended up a little longer! I’m still hoping to get my longer fic finished as well but at least there’s this

Set during Steve and Eddie’s joint senior year; pre-slash and I guess it could be interpreted as bullying (not between Steve and Eddie)

605 words / rated T / for day three of @steddie-week hurt/comfort

Eddie hopes whoever invented dodgeball is burning in a hell he doesn’t believe in.

It’s not like he can’t—and doesn’t—give as good as he gets, throwing the balls as hard as he can back at the jock assholes who target him and the few other freaks in their grade. But all it takes is one second not paying attention and Eddie ends up with the beginnings of a black eye and an ache in his jaw.

Hagan high-fives one of his dickhead friends and Eddie flips them all the bird, grinning, hoping there’s blood on his teeth. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth, anyway.

He’s told to walk it off—“Walk off my face?”—which he does, right out of the gym, and out to sit on a bench until he figures it’s safe to go back to the locker room for his shit.

At least no one comes to drag him back in and, when he sees everyone else file out, he slinks back so he can change and grab his bag. He’s sitting on the bench, tying up his shoes, when a pair of sneakered feet appear in front of him.

“Here.” A hand thrusts something wrapped in a dishcloth under his nose.

He looks up to see Steve Harrington standing there, holding whatever it is out for Eddie to take. Eddie’s eyes narrow.

“It’s just ice.” Harrington waggles his hand. “Figured you could use some.”

Eddie stares a moment longer, then he takes the proffered wrapped ice. He’s pretty sure there’s no ulterior motive here and, anyway, Harrington’s never targeted him. Or anyone really. He mostly ignores Eddie, and Eddie mostly ignores him. “Where’d you even get this?”

“I have my ways.”

“That’s mysterious.” Eddie holds the ice to his face, hissing at the touch. There’s going to be a gnarly bruise later. When Harrington just stands there, Eddie adds, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t want to keep all my friends waiting,” Steve mutters, crossing his arms.

Eddie’s brow furrows. It’s been a while since he’s seen Harrington with his usual crew, not that Eddie pays that much attention. He thinks he’s still on the prom committee or yearbook or both. Whatever popular kids do. But, if Eddie thinks about it, he’s pretty sure he’s usually alone otherwise. It’s weird, but Eddie’s whole face hurts, and he just wants to go home.

Still, he’s got manners, so he says, “Thanks for the ice.”

Harrington shrugs one shoulder. “It’s cool.”

“Very. Frozen in fact.”

Harrington snorts, then he bites his lip. “Hey, uh… Don’t let those guys get to you. Tommy’s an asshole.”

“I know. And I don’t.”

“Okay.”

A strange silence hangs over the locker room and Eddie’s not entirely sure what’s happening.

And then Harrington says, “Anyway, just… “ looking at Eddie. He picks up his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. “Remember to dodge next time.”

Eddie gives a little salute, which gets the ghost of a smile from Harrington and watches him walk out the locker room. He sits there a while longer, holding the melting ice to his face, before he finally grabs his bag and heads out to his van.

The parking lot is pretty much empty, except for a few teachers’ cars, so Harrington has obviously gone home. If it wasn’t for the wet dishcloth on the passenger seat, Eddie could easily believe it was some kind of concussed daydream. But it wasn’t. It was real.

Eddie shakes his head, shoving the key into the ignition. Steve Harrington bringing him ice is definitely the weirdest thing that’s happened to him.

[gravehags]

dream (a little dream of me)

Pairing: Aether x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: somnophilia (with consent), dry humping, Copia briefly cockblocking, plus size reader, quintessence magic

Words: 1,664

Summary: It's been a long, successful day for you. Perhaps a nighttime visit from a certain Quintessence ghoul will be the cherry on top.

a/n: Hooray for the first fun thing I've written in like a whole ass month jfc!! Once again, a concept that came to me in a dream. A Satanic portent if you will. I am the pythia of the Ghost ministry. All my cirrus x aether x reader lovers...i hope you enjoy that ending lmao

divider by @ghuleh-recs

You don’t remember the last time you were this tired.

You’re already stripping as you push the door to your quarters open, dropping garments on the floor. Making your way into the room, you groan as you remove your bra and fling it somewhere where you think it knocks something over but you’re too exhausted to care. Leaning against the wall you unlace your boots and shimmy out of your trousers and underwear until you’re standing in the middle of the room stark naked and staring lovingly at your bed. You know you should shower, should remove your makeup at the very least but the soft covers of your duvet and fluffy pillows call to you like a siren’s song. Sathanas, what a day. You spent most of it cleaning the chapels and attending Papa Copia at mass, your most favorite task. Your devotion to the Olde One ran true, and attending services always moved you deeply whether you were participating or merely a devout spectator. Vaguely you recall something about Aether texting you earlier in the day, asking you to check in with him when you got back to your room so you fumble around in the pockets of your discarded pants for your phone.

I’m here, very sleepy. Coming over?

You think of the towering form of the ghoul, the way his strong arms encircle you when you bury your face into his chest. The rumble of purrs that come out of him when you rub your hands along his broad back. The sounds you can tease out of him when he’s at his most vulnerable, large hands gripping at your hips and his wonderfully thick cock pulsing inside you. Your lips curl up in a soft grin as you await his response, a rush of warmth spreading from your belly to the apex of your thighs. Before it can truly grow into anything more, your brain reminds you how exhausted you are and you feel the edges of your vision start to blur with the need for sleep. You hesitate only a moment before typing out an additional text.

Gonna go to bed. If you want me you can have me…

He responds right away and you nearly laugh at his eagerness.

On my way over right now

Walking over to your bed with a smile, you plug in your phone to the charger, fling back the covers and crawl in, sighing deeply when your head hits the pillows. The cool sheets and comforting weight of your blankets immediately sets you at ease and before you know it, your heavy eyelids shut and you drift off to sleep.

Twenty minutes have passed since you sent Aether the suggestive text and he is finally at your room after being waylaid by Copia in the hall who, in his peculiar way, began complimenting you and your devotion during the service that day. The conversation went on for far longer than Aether wanted, but finally Copia let him go with a wink and a little elbow-shove about how you’re probably waiting for him. Aether tried not to look too eager when he walked away from Papa, but Copia looked at his retreating back with a suggestive eyebrow waggle all the same. When he opens your door, he’s met with dim lighting and nearly trips on your discarded items of clothing strewn in a trail from the entryway. He smiles fondly when he spies you, bundled up in your blanket and softly snoring, and he immediately begins to strip. When he’s fully nude, he slips in beside you, groaning at the cocoon of warmth you’ve created. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you flush against him, a purr rumbling in his chest when your naked flesh meets his. He gently leans in and nuzzles your hair: you smell like the incense Papa uses in his masses and the unique, sweet, intoxicating scent he’s come to know as you. Unconsciously, his hips shift forward and his half-hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass. You’re so kind, so good to him, always giving and loving. He thinks about the text you sent earlier and a flood of warmth begins to rush through his veins.

If you want me you can have me

He can’t lie, he’s often thought about having you like this. Fucking against you or into you as you sleep, watching you shift and moan even through the haze of slumber. Slowly, he slides one of his large hands up your side, squeezing the meat of your hip briefly before moving over your belly and up to your breasts. When he cups one, thumb brushing over the nipple, you make a small noise in your sleep and shift your hips backwards against him, causing him to groan. He lowers his lips to your shoulder and begins mouthing at the warm skin there, tongue tracing up the curve of your neck as he gently pinches your now hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His cock, now profusely leaking precum onto your skin, ruts against you slowly, every roll of his hips in sync with the movement of his mouth on your flesh. He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible, and with steady, firm movements begins to fuck himself against you. His breath stirs the hairs strewn around the side of your face and his hand abandons your breast to grip at your hip.

“So good for me, even in sleep,” he growls lowly, face buried in your neck. “So fucking soft.”

You’re providing so much pleasure for him, he thinks, but receiving none in return. That simply won’t do. With his hand wrapping around your body to cup the curve of your belly he concentrates his quintessence on your sweet cunt, making you feel the presence of his cock within you even as he ruts against you. He’s sure he’s woken you from your slumber when you let out a long, low moan but your eyes remain shut even as your breathing becomes unsteady. With every thrust, every drag of his cock along your skin he imagines being inside you, stretching you just how you like, the way you clench so tightly around him. He visualizes hitting that glorious sweet spot within you and when he slides his hand down to the juncture of your thighs, he moans loudly when he finds you sopping wet. Even as his phantom cock thrusts inside of you, he toys with your swollen clit, making you whimper and your eyes dart around behind your eyelids. Your breathing comes out in soft pants punctuated with beautiful little mewls as he presses his forehead to the back of your head, concentrating on your softness as his hips begin to jerk forward with more fervor. 

“Fuck, my love,” he groans, fingers sliding through your slick to rub at you, “fuck, you’re perfect. So perfect just - ah! - just for me. My sweet girl.”

He imagines how you must feel, mind drifting through subconscious thoughts even as you’re filled with the stretch of him. He wonders what you dream of, if it’s of him. His thrusts become shorter and faster as you tip your head back against him, mouth hanging open. With a gasp, you moan one word with your back arching, hips bucking into his touch.

“Aether!”

It’s all he needs to drive him over the edge and suddenly he’s coming, hard, all over your ass and lower back. He barely notices that you’re stirring, cheeks flushed and eyes blearily looking at your surroundings as he fucks himself into overstimulation against you. He only stops when your hand shifts behind you and grabs at his hips, stilling him. Sweat slides down his forehead as his seed cools on your skin and you hold him flush against you.

“I’m sorry,” he pants quietly, hoarsely, “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Mmmm don’t be,” you say sleepily, pushing your own hips back to brush against his softening cock. “That was gorgeous.”

He smiles against your hair and tells you not to move as he gets out of bed and heads to your small bathroom. After a moment he returns with a warm, damp washcloth and tends to the mess he’s left on your skin. Half of it has slid off you and onto the sheets - a problem for tomorrow.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he discards the cloth in your hamper. Reaching out, you make a needy grabby hand gesture, beckoning him back to bed. When he slides back in alongside you, you roll over to face him.

“How’d you do that?” you say with a yawn, sleep clearly falling upon you once more.

“Hmm?”

“How were you inside me while…not being inside me? That was…wow.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, “quintessence magic.”

You waggle your eyebrows suggestively and reach up to stroke the base of his horn while his tail pulls you closer under the covers until you’re nestled against his chest.

“Felt amazing,” you whisper, fingers carding through his chest hair, “like being fucked on a cloud. You were so close but still far away. Weird feeling.”

“But you liked it?” Aether asks, looking down on you with his brow furrowed.

“Mmm fuck yes.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Love, the only thing I’m upset about is you not using that magic earlier. You were holding out on me.”

Your eyes are shut but your lips are curled into a mischievous smile and he strokes your hair.

“I’ve got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve. Maybe Cirrus and I will show you…”

You make one last noise - a mix of intrigue and contentment - before sleep overtakes you once more. Aether holds you close, the spade of his tail drifting up and down your leg under the covers.

Before his own eyes slide shut, he reminds himself to thank Papa for including you in his mass today. Maybe he could tire you out more often.

[sporadicthingcollection]

A Day in the Life (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: The days are never dull with a baby on board. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~3.2k Warnings: Infants in very mild peril, cunnilingus, PiV sex A/N: daddy buggy my beloved

---

4:41

Keeda’s fussing before the sun’s even up. And then you start fussing as soon as Keeda starts fussing.

“Your kid’s awake,” you grumble into his back.

Buggy has no choice but to fuss back. “Before dawn, he’s your kid.” You nudge him with your foot. He huffs. “I’m comfy, bitch. Get 'im yourself.”

You do not appreciate how comfortable he is. You knee his ass with each word -- not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You. Are. A. Chop Chop man.”

...Yeah, alright, that's fair. Detaching his head and arms, he floats himself over to the crib.

Any other child would be concerned if their father’s disembodied head hovered above them, but Keeda’s never known any different. His grumbles turn to happy babbles, his chubby little face lighting up like the moon.

“Mornin’, ya li’l rugrat,” he says with a smile. “Starting on your bullshit early today, huh?”

He slips his hands under the boy’s arms and lifts him up and over to the bed. He's getting heavier, maybe about as much as a decent-sized cannonball. Makes sense, given his parents’ heights. 

His parts rejoin the rest of him and he lays back down, placing the baby on his chest. He's still not too big for that, at least.

You roll over — more of an aggressive flop, really — and tuck yourself up under his arm. “Hey, bug.”

"Hi, dear," Buggy replies.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you lay your hand on your son's back, rubbing in small circles. Keeda lets out a happy coo, his little fingers curling as he reaches out to you.

You take his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "Back to sleep, sweet baby," you mumble, already halfway there. "Back to sleep..."

Buggy waits for your breathing to even out and for Keeda to go still before he lays his head against yours.

———

9:03

"Son of a bitch!"

Buggy watches as you pitch the jar of baby food and spoon over the deck railing. "First you wake me up, then you pee on me, and now you won't eat!” You jam your finger into Keeda's face. “Why are you being such a little fucker today?!"

The boy giggles, kicking his legs and smearing his breakfast around. He's got your laugh, but that little hater attitude couldn't have come from anybody but his father.

Buggy's just glad it's not his turn to feed him. "Food's supposed to go in his mouth, ya know."

You flip him off without even looking at him. Keeda waggles his fingers like he's trying to mimic you, but he doesn't quite have the motor control down yet.

“I'm gonna go get a new jar,” you grumble. “Make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust or some shit.”

You slink off without waiting for confirmation. Buggy's not worried. You'll cool off in no time. And he gets to watch your ass as you walk away.

He turns his full attention to Keeda. He picks the boy up into his arms. “You really wanna piss your mom off?” he asks. The boy babbles in what he decides is a yes. “Give her hair a yank. She spent all morning on it and it'll drive her nuts.”

He knows Keeda shouldn't be able to understand him, but there's a sparkle of recognition in those big dark eyes as he reaches a little hand out to touch the hair peeking out from under Buggy’s bandana.

He knows grabby fingers when he sees them. He angles his head away. This does not deter Keeda, but merely changes his target.

And now for the most confusing emotion he's ever had. There's the usual agitation that comes from someone noticing... it... but it's Keeda. He's never mocked it or thought it odd or asked questions. He just thinks his daddy's neat.

He can't help the slight smile as he lets Keeda touch his face.

———

9:50

Richie’s liked Keeda from day one. He’s always smelling him and headbutting him and gently pawing him. Mohji thinks it's because he's trying to scent-mark the kid.

“Should I do something?” Buggy asks quietly.

Mohji shrugs. “He's laughing, isn't he? Richie wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Keeda giggles as Richie presses his nose against his head, gently sniffing. Richie lets out a pleased chuffle as he rubs his whiskers along Keeda’s face.

Mohji crosses his arms. “He doesn't do that to me,” he mutters.

“I’ll dunk you in tuna oil, if you want,” Buggy says. “He'll be all over you.”

“I think I'll pass--” Disgust turns to horror as Mohji blanches. “Oh shit!�� 

Buggy whirls around. Richie has Keeda in his mouth. Completely in his mouth. Richie is a big lion and Keeda is a small baby.

Panic grips him. He's never actually had to fight a lion before, but it looks like that's what he's gonna have to do. You're gonna kill him anyways, so might as well go out in style--

Richie deposits Keeda at Buggy’s feet. The boy looks no worse for wear, if not a little confused and covered in kitty drool. The overgrown house cat looks very pleased with himself for taking a few years off of Buggy’s life.

Buggy glowers at Mohji. Mohji avoids eye contact and tries to shrink into his hoodie.

———

10:15

Well, after that, baby needs a bath. Fortunately, the giant soup pot in the galley is the perfect size for a little guy like Keeda.

Buggy hums an aimless tune as he rubs the shampoo into Keeda's hair. It's dark and thick like yours -- not to mention long. Kid’s hair grows faster than the rest of him.

He scoops up a fingerful of bubbles, then gently boops Keeda's little nose. The boy’s face scrunches up, and he goes cross-eyed as he grumbles.

An intrusive thought takes root. He chuckles to himself as he smooths Keeda's hair upwards. “Look, babe. Mohawk.”

“Keep the suds out of his eyes,” you warn from the doorway. 

He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna let him drown, ya know. You don't have to hover.”

You smile that narrow little smile of yours. “I like watching my boys.”

Buggy's chest tightens. How can one expression, one quirk of your lips, one flash of teeth make his stomach backflip? His breath catch? His cheeks burn?

A splash of sudsy water rushes up to hit him in the face. Seems the kid’s discovered volume displacement. He regrets going with a full beat this morning. Between the splashed water and the heat in his cheeks, this makeup is gonna melt right off.

———

12:24

Dropping an ear in Keeda's crib while he napped was a brilliant idea. Amazing, even. Buggy can be off doing Hot Dad Shit but still come running at the first sign of trouble.

And then the baby found it and it became less of a good idea.

"C'mon, give it back." He reaches for the ear, but Keeda shifts just out of reach, clutching it to his chest. Given the boy's grip strength, he can't just yank it out of his hands without ripping cartilage.

Buggy hears Keeda's heartbeat thumping as he slumps against the edge of the crib. "What the hell could you possibly want with an ear?"

Keeda looks him dead in the eyes. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he brings the ear to his mouth.

Buggy has never moved faster in his life. He shoots his hand off and claps it over Keeda's mouth. You were right, he is being a little fucker today.

Keeda's muffled whines catch your attention, and you stick your head into the cabin. "Having trouble, Captain?" you ask with a smirk.

"Your son's being a dick."

The smirk grows into a smile. "He gets it from his father."

———

14:21

As Captain, sometimes one must spring into action and help secure a loose cannon threatening to smash the hull. For that reason, Buggy appreciates his crew’s tolerance of having a baby shoved into their arms at barely a moment’s notice. Alvida, especially. He’s never known her to like kids, let alone infants, but she seems to make an exception for little Keeda. Sometimes he thinks she makes up reasons just to hold him for a bit.

She's smiling a big, cheesy smile at him as he returns from his heroics. The kid gazes up at her with his enormous eyes, returning the grin. Alvida then sticks out her tongue. Keeda does the same. She blows a raspberry, and Keeda giggles.

“Having fun with Auntie ‘Vida?” he asks.

“Time of his life.” She makes an angry face. Keeda's mouth screws up into a grumpy frown. “It's crazy how much he looks like you. Especially considering he doesn't have your--”

Her mouth shuts so hard and so suddenly that her teeth click.

Buggy keeps his voice low and even. “Doesn't have my what?”

Alvida blinks. “Hair. I was gonna say hair.”

...you know what? Acceptable.

“Eh, I'm just glad he's got ten fingers and ten toes.” He ignores the relief on her face as he takes his boy back. “His mom’s prettier anyways.”

———

15:46

You don't need a detached ear to know when your son is crying. Somehow, you know. You can be down in the bilge and you'll hear his whining from the top deck.

"What's going on?" you ask as you come up on deck.

Buggy watches as Keeda flops over onto his belly, thrashing his limbs and wailing. "He's mad because I won't load him into the cannon."

Keeda pauses in his fit as sees you, then lets out a bwuuuuuuuh and continues. He looks very much like a fresh fish as he flails around.

You watch him for a moment, then look at Buggy. A silly little glint sparkles in your eyes, the one that you have when you get a bad idea. The same one he saw during that first kiss you shared together.

“He would fit in a Buggy Ball shell,” he says.

You stare at him a moment longer, then shake your head. “We shouldn't.” Keeda lets out a wail that makes you flinch. “But we could.”

After a few moments, the boy runs out of steam, lying there like a dead bird on a beach and whimpering pathetically.

Buggy scoops him into his arms and brushes the tears away. "Can't load ya up, li'l man, but wanna see it go..." He pops his hands off and splays his fingers in front of Keeda's face, popping them apart at the knuckles. "...ka-boom?"

Keeda's agitation melts away like an ice cube in Hell, replaced with wide-eyed wonder. You take him and sit on a crate, covering his ears. You give Buggy a nod.

He grins. He points at a pair of idling crewmen -- the artillery boys, fortunately. "Ready piece!" he barks. “And make it snappy! My kid’s in the audience!”

Buggy appreciates how they trip over themselves rushing to the cannon. He really is lucky that his crew likes his kid half as much as he does.  Even if they “kidnap” him sometimes and hide him in the crew quarters to dote on him and to stress his parents out.

In moments, the Buggy Ball is loaded, the powder set, and the artillerymen stand at attention, waiting to light the fuse.

He holds his fist up. "Aim!"

The cannon is already in place, but he pauses for dramatic effect. A quick glance at Keeda's wide eyes and your little smile confirms it's working. 

He gives you both a little wink  "Fire!"

With a bang and a whistle, the shell flies up into the air. A safe distance away, it explodes into a shower of smoky crimson streaks.

They reflect nicely in your smiling eyes as Keeda squeals in delight.

———

19:02

Buggy sticks his tongue out. "Blah."

Keeda sticks his tongue out. "Blelck."

He puffs his cheeks out. Keeda puffs his cheeks out. He puckers his lips. Keeda puckers his lips.

He opens his mouth. "Ah."

Keeda opens his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his little pink gums. "Ah!"

Buggy jams the spoon in there before Keeda can even react. Blinking in surprise, he swallows, even licking some stray banana mush from his lips.

You watch, slumped across the table with your chin in your hand. "How are you so good at that?"

"Clown to clown communication. Sounds like this." He puts the spoon down and, squishing Keeda's cheeks, affects a croaky voice. "’Feed me. Feed meeee.’"

Your laugh your lovely seagull laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird.

———

20:50

“Don’t wake him up,” you warn as you open the door to the main cabin.

"I know, I know." He separates himself at the waist. “Floating, see? Shock absorber.”

Keeda snuffles and twitches. You both freeze, praying that he doesn’t wake up. He does not, and you relax.

You side eye him as he crosses the room, not letting up until he lays the boy down into the crib. You slip Mr Toucan in next to Keeda and pull the blanket up around him.

"Sweet dreams, li’l bug," you say.

"I'm not going to bed yet." You glower at him and he grins. That's never going to get old.

You tiptoe out with him close behind. He leaves his ear on the table, just in case.

The door clicks shut, and you both let out your held breaths. You hold your fist out and he knocks his knuckles against yours.

“Good job this time, Dad,” you say.

“I can be subtle when I want to be.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders. "Y’know, I was thinking..."

The breeze tousles your glossy hair so artfully. "Was wondering where the smoke was coming from."

He pulls you in closer, his hand wandering to the top of your thigh. You've been bitching about baby weight, but to him? You've never looked better. "Was thinking... Wanna make another?"

You give him a smirk that makes his cock twitch. You cross your muscular arms and it turns into a pulse. "Weird way to ask to go bareback."

"No, I mean it,” he says. "He looks like you and I want one that looks like me. Balance it out."

You breathe in sharply. The mischief in your eyes fades, replaced with thoughtfulness. You duck out from under his arm to saunter away. “Sell me on it.”

He follows. “What's cuter than one Keeda? Two Keedas,” he says. “Especially if it's a girl. Built-in double act. And I've got the perfect name for a girl.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a big stupid grin. “Buggetta.”

You stare at him a moment, then crack a smile and make that glorious, glorious snnnrk noise. “Absolutely not.”

“To the name or to another kid? Because I'm fine with Buggy Junior if it's a boy--”

“Over my dead body we name a kid that.”

"Alright. Fine." He grabs your hips and pushes you against the deck railing. "Guess I'll just fuck you 'til you're knocked up again anyways and we can improvise."

You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He goes in for a kiss, but you duck beneath his arms.

“Catch me and you can do whatever you want with me,” you say before taking off.

He sprints after you.

———

21:24

He wanted to be romantic. He wanted to be cool and suave and sweet for you. You, light of his life and his hard-won prize. You, his partner in crime and mother of his child. You deserve nothing less than the sultriest, slowest, languidest of lovemaking, full of sweet nothings whispered breathlessly into your thighs.

Unfortunately, just looking at you makes his cock leak and if he doesn't strip you down and fill you up as soon as possible, he's gonna make a mess of his last clean pair of underwear.

So that's how you ended up pinned between him and a crate in the cargo hold, moaning like a bitch in heat as he ruts into you. He's lucky you like it like that.

“Harder!” you spit.

He grunts into your shoulder as he snaps his hips. His tongue is busy taste-testing that sweet sweet clit of yours.

You let out a long, guttural groan. “Less talking, more -- ah, ff--!”

He must have hit something nice, because your back arches and your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing it tight and making him damn near black out.

He hates this stupid condom. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates how he can't feel your warmth, your slick, your soft, satin walls as they clench. Hates how he can't fill you up with his cum, painting those lovely walls a pearly, sticky white. Hates how he can't fuck another baby into you.

...unless. Unless he's lucky and it breaks. Or if it's just a piece of cheap shit not worth the paper box it came out of.

Oh yes. Oh, then he'd be lucky. Then he'd get what he wants. He'd get you pregnant. Again. You’d be all soft around the edges and glowing like a full, terracotta moon with hair as glossy as a fresh tube of lipstick.

His hips stutter. Yes yes yes yes yes--!

He grips your hips tight as he thrusts into you, not stopping until his balls are drained and his cock is limp. He flops against you, burying his face in your minty, citrusy, cinnamon-y hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

He can hear the smile in your voice. “Love you too, Bugs.”

———

00:57

Sad little whimpers in his ear distract him from his carousing with the crew. You're significantly more fucked up than he is and on round eight of a three-round game of cards, so he slips away without disturbing you.

Keeda is sleeping when he enters his cabin, but the little twitches and whimpers suggest it’s not a restful one.

He tickles the bottom of his foot -- his teeny tiny little foot -- and the boy wakes with a start. He starts to cry, only to falter as he sees his father, his lip quivering and his eyes watering. 

Buggy scoops the boy into his arms. “Shh,” he says. “Daddy's here. Don't worry.”

He strokes his fingers through the boy’s hair. Keeda coos like a dove, trying to burrow his face into his chest. Failing in that endeavor, he peers up at Buggy with those enormous eyes.

Somewhere, deep in his heart, Buggy knows that all the treasure in the world couldn't match the feeling of holding his son in his arms. And that all the praise and all the applause would be nothing compared to the way you smile at him like you have a secret to keep.

But why settle for just two people when he could have the adoration of them all?

He sits down on the bed, propped up against the headboard, cradling the boy close. “You're gonna be a prince someday,” he whispers. “A little pirate prince. Daddy’s gonna be king and they’re gonna love you as much as him.”

Keeda exhales heavily, letting out a soft peep as he goes limp. His eyes drift closed.

Buggy is suddenly very aware of how tired he is. He lays back into the pillows. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep...”

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[forever-rogue]

I fell in love with the previous holiday request 🥹 can you do another part, maybe Christmas morning and presents? Dad Eddie is so cuteeeee

AN | I love dad Eddie too, so have some more! 🥺🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Daddy,” Eddie heard the small voice calling out to him, but he kept his eyes tightly shut. Maybe if she thought he was still sleeping, she’d give him a break. Wishful thinking. This was his daughter after all. A little hand patted his cheek, “Daddy! Wake up!”

Eddie opened one eye to find Ollie looking at him with big eyes and a shy smile. How on earth was he ever supposed to be mad at her? He reached up and gently poked her cheek, causing her to giggle, “what are you doing up, Ollie Pop?”

“It’s Christmas,” her eyes went wide as she reached for his hand to drag him out of bed, as if she’d accomplish that through sheer force, “you gotta get up! Santa was here!”

“Can I have five more minutes?” he pleaded with her, not ready to leave the comfort of the warm bed and your soft body next to his. She put her hands on his cheeks and made sure he was looking at her, “please?”

“You say that sometimes and then it ends up being forever,” she huffed; she was really calling him out on his little white lies. The kid was too smart for her own good.

“I’m old, Ollie,” he sighed dramatically, “I need my sleep and rest…just like you do. So why don’t go back to bed for a little while?”

“Nope,” she looked so pleased with herself, displaying her big gap-toothed smile as she shook her head, a few dark curls bouncing roguishly, “Daddy, you can’t sleep in on Christmas!”

“Alright, alright,” part of him wanted to say no, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do, “five minutes then?”

“Five minutes,” she agreed, “I’ll wait in the living room.”

“No peeking at what Santa left! And no touching either,” she scoffed as she walked, giving him a stern look and finger waggle before closing the door behind her, “I mean it, Olivia!”

He heard her yell something inaudible back and chuckled to himself. She was a lot, but he wouldn’t have changed a thing about her.

“Five minutes only, Daddy,” you teased, turning over to face him. He playfully rolled his eyes before leaning to press a soft kiss to your lips. You were just waking up, bleary eyed and soft-smiled with wild hair. You were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen, “hi.”

“Hi,” he grinned back, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face before settling his hand on the slight swell of your belly. It turned out that you had gotten him an early Christmas present that year, “do you think I can get away with making fifteen?”

“Not a chance.”

“Ten?”

“If it’s even a moment over five, she’ll be right back in here to drag you out,” you laughed softly as he leaned back against the pillow, letting out a heavy sigh, “you should know that by now. It’s your kid after all.”

“She’s half yours,” he snorted as you shook your head, “oh? Are you telling me you swapped babies at the hospital and traded our baby for a different one?”

“Oh no,” you giggled in amusement, “there’s no denying that’s our kid. But…right now, early on Christmas morning, she’s all yours. You’re basically a single dad until at least ten this morning.”

“I’d argue with you on that,” he rolled over so you were under him, caged between his arms as he dipped his hand down to kiss you. He made sure to keep his weight off you so he wouldn’t hurt the baby…yeah, he was that kind of father - overprotective and always worried, but you loved it, “but I think you deserve some more rest. You’re doing all the hard work right now, growing our son.”

“Bold of you to assume it’ll be a boy!”

“I just have a feeling,” he smirked, “you’ll realize I was right in about five months.”

“I-”

“Daddy!” you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up as he hung his head and sighed softly.

“Better go,” you whispered, reaching up and putting your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek, “I’ll be there soon, I promise. I just want to close my eyes for a few more minutes. Your son is really taking it out of me right now.”

“I’ll allow it,” he turned his face and pressed a kiss to your palm, “just rest. We’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Alright, Ollie Pop,” Eddie rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes as he walked down the hall and into the living room. But his daughter was nowhere in sight, which immediately caused his anxiety to spike, “kiddo?”

“In the kitchen,” she called back and he relaxed before wondering what she was up to. He padded into the kitchen and froze at the sight in front of him. Ollie was standing on a chair, chocolate powder all over her and the kitchen counter. As soon as she noticed his expression, she turned oh so innocent and sheepish, “sorry Daddy. I was gonna make chocolate milk for us.”

Part of him wanted to be mad and blame her for the mess, but he knew there was no point. She was just a kid, and she was trying her best; the most important thing was that she was okay. Messes were annoying but they could always be cleaned up, “that’s very sweet of you, little miss. Maybe next time wait for me or Mommy, okay?”

“Okay,” she held her arms to him, silently asking for him to pick her up, “I wanted to surprise you!”

“Consider me surprised,” he picked her up and perched her on his hip as he grabbed a rag to start cleaning, “you’re something else, kid.”

“Is that good or bad?’ she looked at him curiously and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her cheek.

“Very good,” he promised, “the absolutely best. Now - let’s get this cleaned up and then I’ll help you make some chocolate milk and maybe we can open a few presents. Sound like a plan?”

“Yes!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After Eddie cleaned up the kitchen and the kid, he let her drag him into the living room. He started a fire as she excitedly sat down in front of the tree, but her attention was quickly pulled to the window. 

“Wow,” she jumped and ran over to the sliding glass patio door, putting her little hands on it as she looked into the backyard. It was snowing softly outside, everything outside was already covered in a soft layer of the glittering white flakes, “Daddy, its snowing! Can we go play outside later?”

“Sure thing, Ollie Pop,” he cast her a fond little look; he’d never had moments like this as a child and he was happy (and proud) to be able to give this to her. He’d vowed to capture every special moment with her, “but we gotta open presents and eat breakfast first, okay?”

“Okay,” she turned back to him with a serious look on her little face, “can we build a snowman and an igloo? Like the ones in my cartoon!”

“I mean, we can try,” he promised, “but we’re not penguins like the ones in the Pingu, so I don’t know how good ours will be. But we can definitely try.”

“We’ll do great,” she promised, padding back over to the tree and sitting down cross legged, “penguins don’t have hands or fingers so it must be harder for them. It’ll be easy for us ‘cause we have both!”

“You’re so smart,” he beamed at her before grabbing a blanket off the couch, and putting it over the two of them as he sat down next to her, “you definitely take after your mom.”

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head and waved her hand at him. Where did she get all this sass? You, he could practically hear you saying, “Mommy says I’m just like you.”

“Yeah? Not surprising at all,” he crooked his finger at her, and she leaned in close to him as he bent to reach her ear, “Mommy’s sometimes really sassy too. She’s just as goofy and silly as you are. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Hear what?” she feigned and shrugged her little shoulder as he just nodded. He’d taught his little mini-me so well. Ollie fell silent for a moment before looking at him seriously, “can I ask you a question?”

“Anything kiddo.”

“Do you and Mommy know Santa Clause?” she whispered causing Eddie to almost choke on his chocolate milk. He started coughing to clear his throat and she was closely scrutinizing.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Last year Santa got me exactly what I wanted,” she mused, casting a suspicious look at all the presents under the tree, “how would he know that?”

“That’s because you left him a letter along with the milk and cookies, remember?” he was internally panicking, wondering what the heck he was supposed to tell her. The two of you hadn’t discussed what you’d say if she asked about Santa. He couldn’t do this alone, he needed you for back up. He cast a forlorn glance down the hall and the bedroom.

“Yeah, but it still doesn’t make sense,” she huffed, “how can he know exactly what I want and all the other kids in the world? How could he get me presents and everyone else? It makes no sense!”

“Sure it does,” he lied. Damn. This kid really was way too smart, “he’s got all his elves to help and then his reindeer to help. They all work really hard and fast.”

“Hmm,” she pondered over his words and he hoped that she would just accept his word for it. He didn’t want the full magic of Christmas to disappear for her just yet…and he definitely didn’t want to have to tell her that Santa wasn’t real without you, “I guess. Next year I wanna stay up all night so we can catch him! Can we, Daddy?”

“Totally,” he agreed, a wave of relief washing over him, “we’ll catch him.”

Crisis averted for now. 

“Can I open a present?’ she asked sweetly and he nodded, reaching under the tree and grabbing a box for her. She took it gently, but eagerly and went to shake it but Eddie shook his head and stopped her.

“You have to be gentle with it.”

“Okay,” she slowly started to rip off the wrapping paper as you made your way into the living room, all wrapped up in your fluffy robe and looking cozy, “Mommy!”

“Good morning, my little love,” you crouched down and pressed a big kiss to her cheek, “merry Christmas.”

She wrapped her little arms around your neck as she gave you a tight hug, “merry Christmas!”

“Go on,” you nudged her back towards her present and turned your attention to your husband, “and good morning to you, my love.”

“Hi baby,” he pulled you towards him, settling you on his lap as he wrapped his arms around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. He ran a hand over your belly, causing you to sigh softly, “and hello baby.”

“Dork,” you turned your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek before the two of you watched Ollie finish ripping off the wrapping. You watched in eager anticipation as she studied what she had just unwrapped. It took her a few moments, but when she realized what it was, she squealed in delight, jumping up and down with a burst of energy, “well? What do you think, Ollie?”

“It’s a guitar!” she exclaimed as if the two of you didn’t know exactly what it was, “now I can be just like Daddy!”

“You’re going to be even cooler than me,” he insisted as she ran over and hugged him, almost knocking him over in the process, “do you like it?”

“It’s what I asked Santa for!” she was almost yelling with all the excitement in her little body, “will you teach me how to play?”

“Absolutely,” he promised; she’d been fascinated with him playing the guitar since she was a baby. Once she’d gotten older and really understood what it was, she’d begged for own little guitar. You’d both agreed that now was as good a time as any to get her started, “you’re going to be a natural. I can’t wait to teach you.”

“Me too,” she started to open the box, being as careful as she could. If Eddie had passed on his love of music to her, he also passed on the knowledge of care and respect for the instruments.

You shifted slightly so you could turn to Eddie and leaned in towards him, lowering your voice, “do you think we should tell her? That way she’ll have plenty of time to process beforehand…”

“I think now is an excellent time to tell her,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek before looking back at Ollie, “hey kiddo, your mother and I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” she plopped onto the floor and looked at the two of you with curious eyes. She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment, surprisingly introspective for such a small thing. Before either of you could say anything she made a small sound, “oh. Is it about the new baby?”

Your mouth dropped open as you and Eddie exchanged surprised looks. Both of you pointed at each other in surprise, trying to figure out if either of you had spilled the beans. You shook your head and Eddie did the same. He looked at daughter in amusement as she continued to try and unwrap the box, “Olivia May Munson, how did you know that?”

She shrugged, playing it off for a moment as the two of you waited for her to go on, “Mommy’s been sick in the mornings, and I heard her tell you about going to the doctor. Lilly said that her mom was sick a lot in the mornings and they told her she was getting a sister.”

You leaned into Eddie and whispered in his ear, “she’s way too smart and perceptive for her own good.”

“She’s your daughter after all,” he beamed, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Is it true?” she paused and looked at both of you, her brows knitting together, “is there a new baby?”

“It’s true,” you promised, reaching out for her to come over. She clambered over and sat down in your lap, “you’re going to be a big sister soon. You’re going to have a brother or a sister!”

“Wow,” her eyes lit up and you could tell that she was genuinely excited, “that’s cool! I hope it’s a brother…wait no - a sister! Well, either one really.”

“You’re such a good girl,” Eddie stroked her chubby little cheek, nothing but fondness coloring his voice, “we love you so much, Ollie. And that is never going to change. You’re always going to be our baby girl. We’ll always love you.”

“I know,” she put a chubby little hand on both of your cheeks, “I love you too.”

“Good,” you grinned, “glad to know we’re all on the same page.”

“Yes,” she promised, nodding and causing her unruly curls to bounce wildly, “now can we finish opening presents?”

“Never change, kid,” Eddie laughed as he wrapped an arm around you, “I love you both so much, my girls -  my boy!”

[delimeful]

be unbroken or be brave again (3)

warnings: threats, fear, arguing, cliffhanger

-

The first obstacle to their little road trip was convincing Roman to dress appropriately for the journey.

The armor itself wasn’t all that stand-out. Patton had seen plenty of well-funded mercenaries out there who could afford an enchantment or two for their greaves. The coat of arms stamped on everything, on the other hand…

In all fairness, they had kidnapped the guy. He’d already been uncertain about, well, just about everything in the situation so far, and now he was being told that he couldn’t even wear his favorite accessories.

Patton would have had a little bit more sympathy if the accessories in question weren’t all emblazoned with the decorative sigil of Faerin, a kingdom that had personally victimized his best friend, as well as frequently seeming to make trouble whenever and wherever it pleased.

Plus, the other thing was—

“If you walk into town with that on, we’re all gonna get jumped,” Virgil said bluntly, waggling the blade of Roman’s dagger at the coat of arms brightly emblazoned on multiple pieces of the knight’s armor. “Seriously, ditch it.”

Roman huffed, holding a scandalized hand up to his chest as though Virgil had told him to strip down to his trousers and jump into a briar patch. “We will not get attacked! Faerin isn’t currently at war with any of the nearby territories.”

“Wow, real gracious of them,” Virgil replied flatly, and Patton jumped in to prevent the tensions from rising any further.

“Roman, kiddo, it’s not really about the war,” he explained, holding his hands up peaceably. “It’s more about all the taxes. People really don’t like the kingdom’s policies, so as soon as you get clear of the enforced territories, well. Folks out here tend to atax first, ask questions second when it comes to Faerin.”

Virgil snorted, leaning back against the wall and twirling the blade in his hand smoothly. He had flatly refused to give the dagger back to Roman even when Patton asked him in private, which was how he knew this little venture was really putting his friend on edge.

It wasn’t fair of him to ask Virgil to do this, not really, but he couldn’t help but ask anyhow. To meet another survivor of one of the worst days of his life and find that they’d developed a hatred of the very one who’d saved him that day… it was too sad to bear, so Patton was going to fix it! Or, he was going to try really hard to, at least.

The fixing process would have gone much smoother if the pair of them would stop jumping like startled cats every time one or the other did anything, but Patton had no say in that. Virgil was twitchy by nature, and Roman had proven rather reactive himself.

“These could have perfectly useful applications as well, you know!” Roman huffed, running his fingers over the embroidered underlayer he’d been about to put on. “Imagine if we run into a fellow Faerin knight out there? My kingdom’s symbol could grant us an ally, as simply as that, giving us more protection from malignant forces!”

Patton resisted the urge to grimace at the very idea.

Less restrained, Virgil reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment, and then huffed out a disbelieving exhale, sheathing the dagger. “Okay, sure, let’s imagine that. After you get done exchanging obnoxiously overdramatic greetings with this imaginary knight who somehow survived out there without getting robbed, what then? What do you think your fellow knight will have to say when you let it slip that I’m a dragonwitch, infamously the number one enemy of your kingdom?”

Roman immediately descended into sputtering, his shoulders hunching at Virgil’s sharp critiques. “We— Obviously I would inform them of the specifics of the situation, and let them know that despite what it may look like, there’s no reason to worry and nothing to fear, for I have everything well in hand!”

At the words, Virgil went still for a moment, a sudden edge of danger seeping into his rigid posture. Pushing off the wall, he stalked closer to where Roman stood, gaze flinty and mouth slanted. For every step closer he got, Roman’s shoulders bunched up further with tension, his hand dropping to his hip as though to draw a blade that was no longer sheathed there.

Patton thought about getting involved, and then decided that he couldn’t step in every time the two of them started bickering. He had to let them do some olive branching of their own! Virgil wasn’t the best gardener, but anyone could wield a spade if they tried hard enough! It would probably be fine.

… Emphasis on probably.

For his part, Virgil leaned forward slowly until he was practically looming over Roman, and let his leathery wings slowly rise like the mantle of a bird of prey, the early morning light reflecting off his scales like oil gleaming in a lantern’s glow. He tilted his head with a menacing, narrow-eyed smile, sharp teeth on full display. “Do you have everything well in hand, Princey?”

Roman swallowed, lifting his chin to meet Virgil’s gaze head-on. “As far as anyone needs to know, yes.”

Despite his bravado, his hands were clenched into shaking fists at his sides. Virgil’s malicious smile eased into something harder to read, and he rolled his eyes before backing off.

“Just get rid of the sigils. We don’t need the trouble.”

Roman’s brow furrowed for a moment, his expression hard to read, but this time, he didn’t protest.

—

The second obstacle to their road trip was convincing Roman to actually get on the road.

Or, rather, on the dragon.

“There is absolutely no way I am literally placing my life in the claws of a dragon,” Roman stated plainly, expression dour. He was trying to look aloof, but the effect was ruined by the way his gaze kept roaming back to rest on the large footprints Virgil had left in the dirt when they’d first arrived back home, unconscious knight in hand.

“That’s probably the smartest thing he’s said all day,” Virgil added unhelpfully, picking dirt out from beneath aforementioned claws with his pilfered blade. “Give the guy a prize.”

“Virgil,” Patton said, exasperated, before turning to Roman. “There’s no need to worry, Virgil is a very safe flier. Plus, you’ve already done this once before, remember?”

“You know, I actually don’t recall! How strange,” Roman retorted, re-adjusting his pauldron in short, jerky motions. “It’s almost as though someone clubbed me over the head with a big rock or something. Imagine that!”

Patton’s cheeks went a little hot, and he cleared his throat pointedly. “Well, I was there, and he was very careful to make sure neither of us got hurt! To be honest, I was pretty darn nervous being that high up, too. Really, heights like that aren’t always fall they’re cracked up to be!”

“Don’t add pun-based insult to my injury, I beseech you,” Roman replied, grimacing. “And I’m not afraid of heights themselves, I’m afraid of being dropped from them!”

Virgil snorted, finally sticking the sheathed dagger in his boot and ambling away from them. “If you want to avoid assassination attempts, maybe stop giving out free ideas, Princey. Not that it matters. If I was going to kill you, I’d do it human-shaped. More fun that way.”

Ignoring Patton’s exasperated look and Roman’s squawk of offense alike, Virgil walked over to the middle of the clearing, taking care to circle around the daffodils Patton had planted as he went. He stopped once he had a wide stretch of space between him and any potential obstacles, glancing back over briefly with his lips pressed tightly together.

Patton gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, mostly to encourage and support him, and a little bit to remind him that no matter what happened with Roman, Patton would always be there at his best friend’s side.

Virgil offered him a slight upturn of the lips, more grimace than smile, but he seemed a bit more relaxed when he closed his eyes and turned away from them, hand lifting to press against the little purple stone set between his collarbones.

“Wait, he’s not actually going to—,” Roman started, only to be cut off by Patton flapping his hands at him in a shushing gesture, eyes still locked on his friend.

Virgil rolled his shoulders, drew his wings close around himself, and then began to stretch the leathery appendages out, wider and wider. There was a thick crackling noise, like bones snapping or lightning running through an old tree, and with a twist, Virgil shifted into his largest form.

It only took a few moments, the air around him warping strangely, and then, there he stood, tail brushing the ground as he shook himself like a very, very oversized dog after a bath. The dust stirred around them from the intensity of it.

Roman had yelped and skipped back a fair few steps, but Patton didn’t bother even shuffling out of the way. Sure enough, none of those huge claws even got close enough to think about grazing him.

He knew his friend, and so he knew that Virgil was a worrier like no other. Frankly, Virgil’s pinky finger probably held more caution in it than a grown man or three had in their whole bodies. His human pinky, not the dragon one, to boot.

Patton was probably the safest he’d ever been, standing in the shadow of Virgil’s wings. He sure felt that way, at least.

“Hey, kiddo!”

Virgil perked up at the call, shuffling around a bit to lower his big scaly head into closer range. He was rumbling low in his chest, not necessarily loudly, but still definitely big enough that Patton could feel the noise in his bones.

He reached out and embraced the surprisingly soft snout as Virgil nudged it lightly against him, huffing lightly and waiting patiently for Patton to get his fill of impromptu dragon cuddles.

Patton smiled to himself. This was a far better sight to see than the nervous, flinching way that Virgil had acted that first time he’d shifted, when he kept sneaking glances at Patton like he was waiting for him to realize what he was and run screaming for the hills.

When he finally pulled back and turned to grab their bags, he found Roman standing only a few meters away, looking more strung out than a ball of yarn rolled down a hill. His hand was once again hovering near his side as though seeking a weapon to draw, a nervous tell.

“Is he still… He’s kept his mind?” Roman asked, eyes flickering down to Patton for the briefest moment before returning to the intense stare he was directing at Virgil.

Patton reminded himself that in Roman’s eyes, the only reason a dragonwitch would take this form would be to wreak havoc, and managed to keep himself from frowning too overtly at the knight.

“Virgil is Virgil, no matter which form he’s in,” he replied, forcing some pep into his step as he scooped up the first of their bags. “He’s just a little more… caught up in his instincts, when he’s in this form.”

That was how Virgil had explained all the happy rumbling and gentle nudges the first time, at least. Patton had made the merciful decision not to tease him about the purring.

“Oh, so murder is still on the table, then,” Roman muttered, finally breaking the stare-off to avert his gaze as Patton sent him a pointed look. “Joking! Just a joke, much like the one our reptilian associate made mere moments ago!”

“Mhmm,” Patton hummed dubiously as he turned back to Virgil. “Well, Mister Jokester, it’s time to get moving! We wouldn’t want the daylight hours to drag-on without us!”

Apparently feeling more confident now that he was the size of a house, Virgil yawned loudly— the sight of which made Roman go a bit grey— and then settled into a resting position to allow Patton to clamber up onto his back.

It only took a handful of minutes for Patton to successfully haul up and tie down their bags, with Virgil’s ears carefully flicking back to listen to his humming as he made sure everything was tightly secured to the spikes along his dragonic friend’s spine.

It took more than twice that time for Roman to stop staring dumbfoundedly at Virgil and actually begin to approach.

Of course, the moment he got within a few meters range, Virgil’s large slitted pupil flicked over to watch the knight, making him freeze mid-step like a deer before a mountain lion.

Patton resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he slid down to stand at Virgil’s side. At this rate, they wouldn’t even get off the ground until noon.

“That’s Roman, remember?” he reminded Virgil, reaching up to pat his shoulder in the hopes of helping him refocus on the task at hand. “You looked after him while he was sick, and now he’s traveling with us for a bit.”

Virgil blinked, his gaze still following Roman’s every move, with far less irritation than Patton would have expected. His pupils had even rounded out slightly, making him look far more friendly in Patton’s opinion.

For some reason, this didn’t seem to reassure Roman.

“C’mon!” Patton gestured for Roman to approach, and Roman shook his head vehemently, as though Patton was insane for even asking.

As though prompted by the exchange, Virgil rumbled and shuffled around a bit in place, his paws creeping forward and head dipping lower in a pose that Patton didn’t recognize until he noticed the dragon’s tail swishing back and forth behind him.

Roman picked up on what was about to happen much quicker, going by the way he went pale and immediately attempted to scramble away.

“Virgil, wait—,” Patton attempted, and then sighed as his friend lunged forward like a cat pouncing, eliciting a terrified shriek from the knight they were supposed to be befriending.

Well. At least none of the bags had been jarred loose by the motion.

The screaming was a little concerning, but Patton was sure that Virgil wasn’t going to murder the guy or anything, so he didn’t bother rushing as he circled around to see what was going on.

What was going on was that Virgil had neatly pinned Roman down with one clawed paw, and was now snuffling at him intently.

Huh. That was a lot less aggressive posturing than Patton had expected, honestly. The more he watched, the more it looked like Virgil was checking Roman over the same way he had inspected Patton for injuries earlier, all gentle nudges and enquiring chuffs.

Not that one would have guessed listening to them. Roman yowled like he was being murdered for at least a solid half a minute after it became clear that there was no mauling going on. Patton pursed his lips, trying not to look too amused at the knight’s expense.

“He’s just checking on you,” he took the opportunity to say once Roman’s shouts had wound down to bewildered, rapid breathing. “He did the same to me, remember?”

Roman shot him a panicked, disbelieving glance from under his impromptu dragon-paw prison. “Yours was far less intensive than— than this!”

Patton shrugged. “Maybe he was just more worried because you were so sick for a while there?”

It made sense, when he thought about it. Virgil had always been a real mother hen whenever Patton so much as got the sniffles, and that was with a much smaller fraction of a dragon’s instinctual possessive worry. Patton had always endured his best friend’s neuroses about illness with as much patience as he could manage, but Roman hadn’t been willing to let Virgil do so much as a checkup once he’d woken up properly. Virgil’s pride wouldn’t let him insist on looking after the slayer after he was conscious enough to be kind of a jerk again, but not knowing the condition of someone he’d been responsible for had to be driving his friend crazy.

“Worried wasn’t really the impression I was getting from Virgil,” Roman gasped out, the tension in his frame slowly leaking away the longer he remained unharmed.

“Really?” Patton asked, a little surprised despite knowing his friend wasn’t exactly the open type. “Well, there’s your first lesson: Virgil’s always worried.”

The dragon in question glanced over at Patton a little sourly, and whuffled at Roman one last time before withdrawing, apparently entirely unapologetic for nearly scaring the soul out of their guest.

Roman lay on the ground for a moment longer, looking a little like he’d been struck by a runaway carriage. He sat up and patted himself down as though checking that he was still all in one piece.

He was, of course. Virgil sent him a slanted, disdainful look for thinking otherwise.

“Are you ready to give this a proper try, now?” Patton asked with an encouraging grin, reaching out to offer him a hand up.

Roman cleared his throat extensively, looking a little red around the ears, but ultimately accepted the help without much protest. He took a deep breath, regaining his composure.

This time, when he turned to survey Virgil’s draconic form, it was with more wary determination than outright fear.

“Very well,” he said, stepping forward. “Let’s get this over with.”

—

The third obstacle to their road trip was finding a place to stop for the night.

Not, as one might assume, because of a lack of safe or viable options on the ground below. No, it was convincing his companions to land at all that was proving to be the issue.

As it turned out, Roman’s fear of the flight had lasted for about as long as it took for Virgil to do his first midair spin, at which point he’d whooped with astounded delight so loudly that even folks on the next continent over had probably heard him.

“Gods above, you’re fast!” he’d gasped, clinging to Virgil’s leg as the land flashed by distantly below them. “There’s no way you could do that from higher up, though.”

It seemed Virgil was easier to goad than ever in this form, because he’d immediately taken a sharp incline, earning him yelps from his passengers. Between the two of them, the bulk of their flight was spent doing gravity-defying tricks and thrilling dives to just barely skim the mountains below.

Patton was glad they’d found something in common at last. He would have preferred they bond over a hobby that wasn’t so terribly dangerous and liable to make him so dizzy he upchucked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers!

He really was begging to reach land soon, though. Best friend or no, there was only so much strain a guy’s poor heart could take.

Plus, he’d plotted out their course with a little detour, and if they kept racing on like this, they might overshoot it completely. They were traveling all this way, it would be a downright shame if they couldn’t at least stop by and say hello to one of Virgil’s other buddies!

—

The fourth obstacle in their road trip was that Patton had forgotten just what kinds of acquaintances a Dragonwitch might have.

Or more importantly— what these acquaintances might think of the company Virgil was currently keeping.

This particular obstacle arrived at their camp that night in the form of an arm suddenly wrapping around Patton’s neck from behind, tugging him into a barely bearable chokehold as Virgil bolted to his feet and growled out a vicious warning.

Across from him, Roman was in a similar situation, but with a wicked-looking serrated blade pressed right up against his jugular, and a pair of unearthly yellow eyes visible over his shoulder.

“My, my,” a smooth voice broke the silence, making Virgil twitch. “I wonder what business a Faerin knight and his tagalongs have in my stretch of the woods?”

Uh oh. It looked like maybe their little detour would take longer than he’d expected…

[general-nerdy]

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull NSFW Alphabet

I had a lot of fun getting these all down, and thank @sinfulwrites for being my editor haha! Go read her Asa NSFW alphabet. It's fantastic!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jesse couldn't care less about your comfort if you're laying in one of his coffins. He relishes in your discomfort. His camera gets a fantastic view of the tears streaming down your face, and your soiled body is a work of art. He'll go back and watch the footage again to see you squirm.

When you are someone he is closer to, Jesse is more of a gentleman. You are held in his massive tattooed arms, though you will be subjected to waggling eyebrows and suggestive, teasing messages about your time together. When you regain some energy you are free to use his elaborate bathroom, his multifunctional bidet and huge walk-in shower making it more than a pleasure to clean yourself. He will follow you in and watch. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's not picky. Jesse can admire every part of you, though he has a weakness for thighs. Your face however is something he will watch intently. He loves to watch your expressions change through it all. 

Jesse loves every part of himself. He's great and he knows it. You don't need to tell him. 

After his incident at the market, he's much more sensitive about his face. But he took it like a champ after some therapeutic mental breakdowns and property damage. It's okay, he can pay to replace the mirror. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jesse has a bad habit of cumming inside. Why should he sacrifice his pleasure, after all? Does he not deserve it? He also loves to have you swallow his load, again watching your face as you do. Though if you're one of his victims he probably wouldn't risk putting his penis in your mouth. He doesn't want anything happening to Lil' Jesse. 

If you are a victim he might force your mouth open and cum inside, or just cum on your face. That makes a great phone background. Yes, he would do that. Your memory would live on in his home screen. At least until he finds another piggy. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Believe it or not, Jesse would love it if you played with his ass. If you topped or pegged him, even better. His late wife never indulged him. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jesse had quite a few partners, both men and women, before marrying his late wife. Even after the fact he had encounters outside of his marriage. So he's very much experienced. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Overtop of you with your legs in the air. That way he can see everything; his cock disappearing in and out of you, your body moving with him, and your face of course. His camera also captures more from there. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

When Jesse likes you he's quite the funny guy. He teases and plays with you in a humorous way. If you farted or queefed during sex he'd double over in his wheezing laughter. Jesse is here to have a good time. 

When you're a captive, he's brutal. He makes you look into his camera. He makes you look at yourself reflected in his mask, watching yourself be violated. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jesse is completely bare, save for his eyebrows. After the incident at the market and his surgeries he doesn't even have those. He likes being hairless, and he's spent a lot of money to get laser removal done. Sliding into his satin sheets smooth as the day he was born is one of his great pleasures. 

He doesn't mind at all if you have hair, wherever it may be. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jesse's ability to take anything seriously is severely inhibited by what I'd call 'affluenza'. He has so much money he can do what he wants, when he wants. Sex is a fun time for him, sure, but most of the time that's just it; a fun thing to do. Unless you're someone he really, really cares about. Then he will make more of an effort to take things seriously and be more romantic. 

When he makes that effort, he goes all out. Expensive dinners. Trips to foreign countries on one of his private jets. Rose petals on the bed. New lingerie for you. He will spare no expense. You will be wined, dined, and dicked. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jesse loves to watch his tapes and jerk off. He basically has an addiction, but it's limited to his own recordings or live footage of you. Yes, he's always watching. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Filming: He's got a camera on his shoulder for a reason, and he saves every single tape. He makes backups too. 

Phone/Cyber/Video Sex: Jesse does all three. You're getting dick pics. He will ask for nudes and videos, even if he already has them. There is never enough in his collection. You will receive some in return. He will barrage you with dirty texts. He feels no shame. He doesn't know what it is. More than once he's FaceTimed you, only for you to open the call and see him with his dick out. It's a common occurrence. 

Mirrors: He has huge ones across the way from his bed, just so he can watch your face when you're in a position where he can't see it. Jesse also likes to make you look at your reflection, whether it brings you shame or pleasure.

Period Sex: Jesse does not fear Aunt Flo. Only cowards do. He'll eat you out too. He thinks it's fun to show you your blood all over him. 

Bondage: Keeping people trapped in his coffins watching them squirm is a huge turn-on. Jesse will get right up on the lid to watch through his camera screen. If he's riled enough he will grind against it. He will also use ropes to restrain those he's got his eye on. 

Public Sex: Jesse will shamelessly pull you away to bang. He'll reach under the table if you're at a restaurant. Is it a fancy one? Even better. His fingers will play with you as you try to order from the waiter. Sometimes he'll even reserve the place so you two can have your fun in peace. In the car? He'll unzip his fly, pull out his cock and gesture to it while he's driving. Or he'll just pull to the side of the road and throw you into the back seat of his Chrysler. Did someone see? Good, Jesse wants to show off. 

Necrophilia: IT'S TRUE. NO I WON'T CHANGE MY MIND. We all saw him lick Princess's corpse in the second movie. He was keeping the bodies all around. He humps coffins. Jesse will have his way with his victims just after killing them. The poor interns from his organization have to clean up the mess. It's not a great job, but it pays very well and the benefits are outstanding. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Jesse loves his mansion. He had it built to his own specifications, and his bedroom has a massive California king-size bed. He loves to show off himself and his affluence. Where else better to do it than there? His car is another favorite. Give him some road head or a handy and he's on cloud nine. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You exist. He exists. You have holes, he has a penis. That's really all Jesse needs. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Poop. He likes to be clean. Even psychopathic murderers have standards.

No vomit either. You can gag on his weiner, but please don't puke. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jesse loves receiving oral. He could sit there for ages and watch you suck his dick. It makes him feel like a king, which he is. 

If he likes you, he will more than happily attack you with oral. Being cute? Being a brat? Bent over? Spread those legs because he's going in. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jesse does not rush. He is slow and powerful. His size doesn't let him jackrabbit into you, but he doesn't need to. By the time he's done, you'll feel like you have no bones. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Of course! Jesse may be slow, but he is more than willing to whip out his cock and slip in and out. He knows just how to touch you, so making you cum quickly is easy. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jesse fears nothing. He could buy off anyone if he got into trouble with you. He has public sex for a reason, and that reason is he doesn't give a single shit. He's willing to try most anything if you're down to clown. He's here to have a good time. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man can go all night. No problem. He may need a break, but he'll pick right back up in no time. As long as you're willing he's ready. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jesse has plenty, though not as many as other people he knows. He prefers quality over quantity. They're not competition. They're for enhancing the experience. He'll happily use them on you, and let you use them on him. He has a prostate massager that he loves. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jesse is actually not that much into teasing when he likes you. He'll do it playfully, but never to deny you pleasure. Though if you're being bratty he just might to teach you a lesson. He'd rather not wait to have his fun with you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jesse can't speak. His vocal cords have suffered some kind of damage during his life and left him mute. The only noises he can make are raspy grunts and groans during sex. Though he is limited, Jesse is not shy about making these sounds when fucking you. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jesse is good friends with Asa Emory, the Collector. The type of friends with benefits. Asa is more often than not the top, despite their size difference. Jesse doesn't mind at all. He finds it quite cute, but he'd never say that to Asa. 

He often helped to fund many of the Collectors endeavors. Jesse thought that Asa's traps were hilarious. 

Jesse is more than willing to have a threesome between you and the Collector, if Asa is feeling agreeable. He might even just sit and watch…

Jesse's late wife was a huge Karen. He hated every minute with her and dreaded becoming a father. 

If you do marry him, he actually is a doting husband. His late wife wasn't lying about that. 

He does not want children. Ever. He'd rather die. 

His aesthetic is very important to him. If there's something with skulls or skeletons, he wants it. Even better if it's chrome or silver. We all saw his cute little skull briefcase. He has cute skull slippers. Skeleton boxers. All of it. 

His late wife hated his aesthetic. She made him stop wearing a lot of it. Once she died Jesse had a field day putting back on all of his skull themed jewelry. The man has rings for days. 

Jesse has a difficult time going to places he considers low-brow or 'poor'. He was raised rich, so he was never exposed to such things. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Seven inches and uncircumcised.

Large low hanging balls. 

The tip of his dick is pierced with a Prince Albert. And yes, it has a silver skull on the end.

He named his penis Lil' Jesse. He will never stop calling it that. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jesse always wants you. All you have to do is look at him suggestively. Or just look at him. He'll ask if you're ready to bang. 

The epitome of "So we fuckin' or what?" 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jesse will fall asleep with you. He's not one to pass out as soon as he nuts. He's too proud for that. His ego couldn't handle the shame. 

[gimmethatagustd]

venor (4) | kth + jjk

The barista at the university’s café keeps telling Jungkook not to come back, but Jungkook is too busy daydreaming about kissing the beauty marks on his face to be paying attention to his warnings.

○ Pairing: Tiger!Taehyung x Bunny!Jungkook

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Hybrids, predator/prey, college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, light angst, eventual smut

○ Word Count: 5,275

○ Warnings: None

○ Notes: Did Jai get tired of making the messaging graphics and is now just doing plain text? Yes. Are we gonna talk about it? No.

○ Post Date: February 25, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Cross-Post

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Series Masterlist

vante95

what’s up?

“Suyun! Suyun! Suyun!”

Jungkook launches himself from his seat and bolts to the opposite side of the room, where Suyun is still drawing her scary equations and chemistry things on the whiteboard. He shoves his phone in front of her face and waggles it until she grabs his wrist to hold him in place.

“Calm down, young man.” She glares at Jungkook, but it’s not at all menacing, and they both know it. 

It would be nice, but Jungkook can’t calm down. Every vein in his body jitters with something terrifyingly electric, like he stuck his finger in an outlet and tried to walk through the aftershocks. It makes him feel like he might pass out, but in a good way.

Maybe Jungkook needs to chill out.

Maybe Jungkook isn’t worried about that, though. What’s so bad about having a little crush? Jungkook has never actually had one, not a real one, so he thinks it might be nice to lean into it. Suyun encouraged him to reach out to Taehyung anyway. Jungkook would argue that he can’t be held responsible.

“What should I say?” Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, and he’s glad his shirt is long enough to hide his tail because it might be wiggling. Perhaps. No one needs to know.

“Oh no, I’m terrible at this,” Suyun hands Jungkook his phone. She pouts with a shrug. “I don’t even know how I got Jackson to date me. I’m terrible at small talk and flirting.”

Looks like Jungkook is on his own.

He plops in his seat, homework assignments forgotten. With his chest pressed against the edge of the table and his arms stretched out in front of him, Jungkook lets out a long, pitiful groan.

jkookie

Just studying with my friend 😊 What about you?

vante95

that’s cute

i’m taking a break at work

yknow at my job at a cafe for predators only

jkookie

🫠 I don’t think it’s fair to ban prey from going! The donuts are so good

vante95

so the donuts are why you keep showing up

that the only reason?

jkookie

... Yes

vante95

mhm

interesting

jkookie

Is it?? They’re good! I love the powder sugar ones and the sprinkles

vante95

i would’ve thought you’d like the striped ones

jkookie

I

I’ve never had the striped ones before

vante95

lol

cute

anyway

if you’re gonna keep being difficult about this at least promise me something

jkookie

👀 What?

vante95

only come during my shift

jkookie

Why?

vante95

so i can make sure no one eats you

“Oh, that’s kinky,” Suyun announces over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Tell him you want him to eat you.”

“Suyun!” With a gasp, Jungkook turns in his chair to stare at Suyun, wide-eyed and innocent.

“I don’t know. It seemed like a logical next step. He kind of lobbed it to you, right?” Suyun shrugs and returns to the whiteboard. “Make the basket, Jungkookie.”

Suyun has definitely been spending too much time with Jackson.

jkookie

Am I supposed to believe that your being there will matter?

It’s a risky text to send. Jungkook worries he comes off rude, especially when it takes a bit longer for Taehyung to respond than it did for his other texts. Before he can get too worked up about it, Jungkook reminds himself that Taehyung is at work. He might be slow to respond because he’s busy — which technically Jungkook is, too, but he decides that taking a little break from homework is needed.

Taehyung’s following text message comes a few minutes later, and Jungkook lets out a little groan because why is Taehyung’s level of cockiness so attractive? It shouldn’t be a surprise; Taehyung carries himself confidently, which was apparent from when Jungkook first met him.

vante95

i’m kind of a big deal

jkookie

What are you, their alpha??

vante95

did you really just ask that

jkookie

I have to go now

Bye

vante95

lol

see you tomorrow bun

Cheeks aflame, Jungkook slips his phone into his pocket and tells himself that he will not, under any circumstances, look at it until later tonight, after he’s finished his homework and gotten dinner with Yoongi. It’s their night to cook together once Yoongi gets home from work.

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to finish the work that requires his immediate attention. He’ll deal with the other assignments later, like the Art History assignment Professor Jung referred to during class. Jungkook still hasn’t settled on a topic for that one yet. It isn’t that he’s slacking; in reality, he has many potential project topics he’s interested in and is having trouble narrowing down the list. Perhaps he’ll find time to stop by Professor Jung’s office later in the week to ask for help.

Saying goodbye to Suyun, Jungkook braves the dying evening heat to head to the train station. There isn’t a grocery store within walking distance of the university with all the ingredients he and Yoongi need for dakgalbi, so Jungkook has to travel a few blocks south to reach the neighborhood grocery store. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind the commute or having to meander through aisles looking for red chili paste, shishito peppers, and cooking wine. Growing up with overprotective parents meant Jungkook spent much time trailing behind them, running errands, and learning about adult responsibilities. Time spent alone or with kids his age wasn’t a luxury he got to experience often, though he cherished those moments when he got the opportunity to.

So, Jungkook enjoys searching for groceries. He likes the colorful products lining the shelves, the slightly stale smell of some older grocery stores, and the dark markings of rubber-soled shoes smudged on the linoleum. Lately, errands like this have made him miss his parents, but not enough to truly consider himself homesick. His drive for independence prevents him from getting too nostalgic. 

Hunger encourages Jungkook to finish up his grocery shopping quickly. He forces himself only to buy what’s needed and manages to fit most of the items in his backpack. With the wine in a grocery bag looped through his fingers and his backpack sitting on his lap, Jungkook watches the neighborhoods blur on the train ride back to campus.

The train isn’t separated by predators and prey like the university is. Most of the public isn’t, at least not legally. Jungkook has noticed that prey tend to flock together, rarely intermingling with predators unless necessary. It’s hard in an oppressive society where predators are always on top, even in a progressive city like Seoul.

Jungkook never thought about how predators and prey interact until he moved. Now, though, he notices so much more — like the group of predators who enter his train car a few stops before they reach the university. He recognizes a few of them, particularly the wolf hybrid from Taehyung’s friend group. The group doesn’t pay Jungkook any mind, quickly shuffling past him toward the back of the car, where there are more seats. 

Disappointment uncoils inside Jungkook when he doesn’t see a messy head of copper curls follow the wolf hybrid when he walks past where Jungkook sits, but he reminds himself that Taehyung is at work. 

It’s for the best that Jungkook has no distractions on his way home. Poor Yoongi will be waiting for him.

-

The third time Jungkook visits Venor Cafe, Taehyung is working behind the counter. He stands with his hip propped against the edge of the counter and talks to the snow leopard hybrid while she counts money at the register. The bills make a papery sound as she flips them between her fingers with practiced precision. She doesn’t look up when the bell over the front door rings, but Taehyung does.

Taehyung easily maintains his conversation with his coworker while his sharp feline eyes stalk Jungkook to the counter. The look on Taehyung’s face is nothing short of predatory, but all Jungkook can focus on is his comforting scent. He wonders whether Taehyung’s scent spiked when Jungkook entered the cafe or if it’s all in his head.

“Give us a sec,” the snow leopard gestures to the open register drawer when Jungkook approaches.

Jungkook nods and gives himself a moment to check out his surroundings. A handful of other customers are scattered around the cafe, none that catch Jungkook’s attention. He only has eyes for the tiger behind the counter, and Taehyung definitely has his eyes on him, too.

“Bun.” Taehyung leans his forearms on the counter, bringing him closer to where Jungkook stands just half a step back.

“Hi,” Jungkook says with a cheerful smile that isn’t returned. “How are you doing today?”

The snow leopard snorts, and Taehyung’s pretty mouth twitches at the corners. His dark eyes flit to the backpack slung over one of Jungkook’s shoulders, and Jungkook notices that Taehyung is wearing thin, black eyeliner, making his expression pointed.

“I’m assuming you plan on staying in here?”

He ignores Jungkook’s question about his day. It’s rude, but Jungkook will let it pass because Taehyung looks exceptionally fluffy today, and it’s doing something to his chest.

“Yup. I’m starting a new routine.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, this is my time to decompress after class before my shift at the library starts.”

Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flashing with something Jungkook can’t read. He straightens up to let his coworker pass, taking her apron before she disappears into the backdoor marked for employees only.

“That’s nice,” Taehyung comments, tone flat and almost bored. “Listen, bun, you’re gonna do me a favor and sit right there.” Dipping his head, Taehyung gestures to the large couch and well-worn leather armchairs directly across from the register.

Jungkook turns around to look at the seating arrangement. The chairs surround a glass coffee table stacked with old university event fliers and a few tiny potted succulents. The furniture looks comfortable, and Jungkook spots an outlet nearby.

“Why?” Jungkook asks, turning back to face the counter.

“I already told you.” Taehyung’s eyes travel down Jungkook’s body, pausing where his crop top exposes a hint of his midriff. “Gotta make sure nobody eats you.”

Blinking rapidly, Jungkook hurriedly breaks eye contact with Taehyung as a flush spreads up his neck and across his face. Never has he felt so attuned to his instincts as he does now, his entire body prickly and on edge. Taehyung makes Jungkook want to run.

No, Taehyung makes Jungkook want to be chased.

Shaken by that realization, Jungkook jerks into action. He gives Taehyung a quick nod and turns to the leather couch. On his way to getting settled, he nearly knocks over the succulents and sends a few fliers shooting into the air and fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jungkook murmurs, snatching the papers and trying to ignore the low chuckle coming from behind the counter, eventually drowned out by the sound of the espresso machine.

Despite the unexpected start to his “Decompress Time,” Jungkook finds his rhythm rather quickly. The leather couch is worn but comfortable, with plush cushions that form to Jungkook from years of being well-loved by loyal customers. He rests his tablet on the arm of the couch to prop it up at a comfortable angle so he can work on his comic. 

A busy schedule has prevented him from progressing much, but Jungkook has learned not to shame himself for moving slowly. Hobbies are meant to be fun; there’s no use making himself miserable over something that should bring him joy.

Perhaps Jungkook enjoys it a little too much, getting lost in the colorful worlds he creates with furrowed brows and a stylus gripped in one hand. After a while, the rest of the world grows fuzzy and desaturated, like the unfinished background of a lesser scene in Jungkook’s comic. He doesn’t notice the figure looming over him until his backpack is pushed to the side on the glass coffee table.

“One iced mocha latte.”

“But…” Jungkook watches Taehyung place the drink on the coffee table in front of him. “I didn’t order anything.”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a blank expression for half a beat before turning his back on Jungkook’s confusion and returning to the register as a few more customers trickle in. There’s no use in calling after him; Jungkook would prefer not to draw attention to himself, and he wouldn’t want Taehyung to get in trouble — since it mustn’t be allowed, right? To give away free drinks?

It’s hard to ignore the fuzzy feeling Jungkook gets in his chest when he picks up the drink and gives himself a moment to process that Taehyung remembered his order from weeks ago. Jungkook has seen the cafe during busy hours; he’s sure Taehyung has far too many customers to remember orders, yet Taehyung remembered his.

The drink is in a disposable paper coffee cup. Disappointment nips Jungkook in the heart when he realizes Taehyung has put his drink in a to-go cup as if to subliminally tell him to leave. Jungkook twists the cup in his hand and notices something scribbled with a permanent marker on the side — a small cartoon bunny with floppy ears and large, starry eyes. Underneath the drawing in messy handwriting is the simple greeting, Hi, bun.

Jungkook isn’t sure how much blushing he can take today. His body is heating up so severely that he’s worried his scent might start spiking from embarrassment in the middle of a predators’ hangout.

Taking a deep breath, he risks looking at the counter. Perhaps there is a different edge to Jungkook’s scent, or Taehyung has an uncanny sixth sense, but his eyes immediately lock with Taehyung’s. Like before, Taehyung’s expression is unreadable. Their connection is broken with a blink, and Taehyung focuses on tending to the next customer in line to order. Only the twitch of his striped ears give a hint that he might still be paying attention to the bunny across the room.

Jungkook takes a sip of his drink to stop himself from grinning.

Over the next few weeks, Jungkook visits Venor Cafe fairly regularly. He doesn’t come in during all of Taehyung’s shifts; Yoongi thoroughly explained how creepy that would make Jungkook seem. Jungkook doesn’t see the harm in it, but he trusts his hyung to know about these things — even if Yoongi tends to overthink quite a lot.

Besides, Jungkook knows that Taehyung enjoys having him around. Why else would he continue drawing adorable bunnies on Jungkook’s cups and leaving little messages on his napkins?

Sometimes, Taehyung is too busy to talk to Jungkook. On those days, Jungkook receives even more hidden messages accompanied by drinks and snacks that Jungkook doesn’t order but appear on the coffee table anyway.

From what Jungkook has observed, most of the employees are college students who aren’t the most ambitious and don’t always take their jobs seriously. They aren’t like Taehyung, who works hard and is attentive to his customers, no matter how tired he may seem. It’s admirable, and Jungkook likes how the more he gets to know Taehyung, the more he proves those terrible stereotypes people feed about predators wrong.

Even the other predators at the cafe don’t seem too bad. By now, Jungkook has spent hours on the leather couch that always seems free, even when the rest of the cafe is crowded, and he has never been treated poorly by the other customers. He’s starting to think everyone is overreacting. What are they seeing in the world that Jungkook can’t?

Considering he has no other predator friends, Jungkook figures he may as well ask Taehyung all his questions. But, first, he has an important matter to settle.

“So, why are you in a prey class?” 

“I can’t talk to you, bun. I’m working.” 

“You were behind the counter texting someone not even five minutes ago,” Jungkook challenges with a toothy grin, “Answer my question.”

Looking up from where he’s wiping off one of the tables, Taehyung gives Jungkook a long stare. His hair is pushed away from his face today, held back by a black bandana to match his all-black outfit. Nothing should be so attractive about a black t-shirt and jeans, especially not all-black Air Forces, yet Jungkook can’t get over how pretty Taehyung is.

What’s even more adorable is how the two of them probably look together, staring each other down in the back corner of the cafe, Taehyung in all black and Jungkook in pastels.

“I thought bunnies were supposed to be timid,” Taehyung finally comments with an arched brow. 

“I’m not like most bunnies.”

Jungkook regrets his response the moment he gives it and internally cringes. Taehyung’s laughter makes it worse. 

“Cute.” Taehyung smirks, the tip of his striped tail flicking from where he tucks it in the string ties of his apron. The placement keeps his tail out of the way as he works. Earlier, Jungkook almost stepped on it while following Taehyung around the cafe, and he isn’t particularly interested in finding out what an angry tiger looks like.

“I’m taking it because the timing for our class session conflicted with my schedule, and I needed to take this one now since I want to graduate a semester early. Trust me, I wouldn’t take a class with prey if I didn’t have to. No offense.”

“Why not?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “You’re something special, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, I am,” Jungkook agrees with more confidence than he should have for someone unsure if Taehyung’s comment was a compliment. 

With a shake of his head and a laugh that’s a rush of air through his nostrils, Taehyung fights the urge to smile as he resumes cleaning the messy table. Jungkook should probably return to his seat, but he’s having more fun bouncing on the balls of his feet while Taehyung scrubs at a sticky spot on the table. Part of that fun might be because the veins in Taehyung’s forearms become more defined as he scrubs harder and his bicep bulges against the tight cuff of his t-shirt.

“Bun.”

Blinking, Jungkook looks up to meet the heartstopping smirk on Taehyung’s face.

“Um, yes?”

Taehyung gestures to the side of his head, grin growing wider when Jungkook lifts his hand. One of Jungkook’s ears has fallen from inside his bucket hat, exposing it to the whole cafe. Jungkook quickly shoves it back inside the hat, having sworn he’d tied both back adequately, stress radiating from his trembling body.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung’s warm fingers encircle Jungkook’s wrist and pull his hand away from his head. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not—”

“Can I tell you something?” Taehyung interrupts. He waits for Jungkook to nod before continuing, “It doesn’t matter if you hide your ears or tail, bun. We all know what you are, even without seeing them.”

“What do you mean?” When Jungkook’s face scrunches with confusion, Taehyung taps the tip of Jungkook’s wiggly nose with his index finger.

“Our senses are sharper than yours. Prey smell different.” Taehyung slips the cleaning rag into his apron’s pocket. He looks amused, as though there’s a secret joke to what he’s said that Jungkook doesn’t understand.

Unsure of how to respond, Jungkook stands with his fingers nervously tapping against his thighs and waits with bated breath as Taehyung plucks his hat from his head.

“I like your ears. They’re cute,” Taehyung murmurs just quiet enough for Jungkook to hear. He holds the hat out for Jungkook to take, then turns on his heel without another word, leaving Jungkook flustered — not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. 

At some point, Suyun starts hanging out with Jungkook at Venor Cafe. The first time she visits the cafe is with Jackson, who Jungkook is surprised to learn is friends with Taehyung. Considering how tall and athletic they are, the fact that the two predators play on the university’s basketball team makes sense to Jungkook. A fox hybrid, Jackson moves elegantly and is quick on his feet, bouncing around as he playfully tussles with Taehyung before the start of his shift. The obnoxious display of predatory behavior makes Suyun roll her eyes, though her cheeks grow pink whenever Jackson smiles at her from across the cafe.

It’s disgusting couple behavior in the kind of way that Jungkook thinks he would quite literally die to experience himself.

Luckily, Jackson doesn’t frequent the cafe — not that Jungkook doesn’t like him. It’s merely that Jungkook enjoys spending time with Suyun, and it’s easier when Jackson doesn’t serve as a distraction.

Suyun argues that Jungkook gets distracted by a particular employee, but she doesn’t tease him too badly about it. Jungkook is grateful for that, considering someone else does enough teasing.

“Two spooky pumpkin cinnamon donuts with chocolate drizzle.”

Taehyung places two small plates on the coffee table in front of the leather couch — which has become Jungkook’s couch at this point. He has yet to arrive at the cafe to find it already occupied. What strange luck.

“We didn’t order—”

“Shhh,” Taehyung interrupts Suyun with a finger to his lips. “It’s officially autumn, and Jungkook has never had striped donuts.”

A wink is Taehyung’s goodbye as he returns to his work duties, leaving the pastries behind. They look delicious, and having tried the cafe’s other donuts, Jungkook is confident they won’t disappoint. He picks one up and cups his other hand underneath it to catch the cinnamon crumbles that might fall from it when he takes a bite.

“Jungkook,” Suyun whispers as she watches him chew.

“Hmm?”

“He gave you an orange donut with brown stripes.”

Jungkook nods with a little hum of appreciation. The donut is really good.

“Do you not get it…?” Suyun’s eyes widen, and her large, round ears perk up. She smacks Jungkook on the thigh with her whip-like tail when he doesn’t say anything, making him yelp. “Orange with stripes! Jungkook! The tiger just fed you an orange donut with brown stripes.”

Jungkook’s entire body shivers with realization. “Ohh…”

“Yeah,” Suyun scoffs, shaking her head. “Yeah."

“I mean, it’s just a seasonal donut. It doesn’t, like, mean something.” Jungkook gestures to the cafe’s large front windows as if to point out the trees' changing color and the skittering leaves along the sidewalk. “Right?”

Suyun shrugs and reaches for her own donut. “I don’t know… Is it normal for him to give you free food like this?”

Jungkook nods, and something weird inside him makes his stomach flutter when Suyun hums in surprise.

“Well… That’s… I mean, that’s interesting.”

Setting his tablet and stylus on the coffee table, Jungkook turns on the couch to face Suyun. “What do you mean? What’s interesting?”

When Suyun shakes her head, Jungkook musters up the most pathetic pout he can come up with.

“Suyun, please tell me. I don’t understand.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes. “It probably doesn’t mean anything at all. It’s just that sometimes gift-giving is a, um, it’s a component of—”

Before Suyun can finish her botched explanation, Taehyung appears beside the couch. He’s engrossed in something on his phone and no longer wearing his apron.

“Scoot over, bun. I’m taking my break,” Taehyung demands as he wiggles in between Jungkook and the arm of the couch.

Startled, Jungkook scrambles to the middle of the couch, giving Taehyung more room. He’s reminded of how big Taehyung is, with spread thighs and broad shoulders that brush against Jungkook’s. Today, they’re both in jeans, though Jungkook is wearing an oversized v-neck sweater, whereas Taehyung is in a plain t-shirt. It’s getting cold outside, but Taehyung’s body seems to run hot.

This is the closest they’ve ever been, and Jungkook feels like he can’t breathe.

“Is that me?”

Suyun smacks Jungkook on the arm, bringing his attention to Taehyung’s gaze. Following it, his stomach overturns with nausea when he realizes what Taehyung is looking at.

“What? No!” Jungkook snatches his tablet and holds it to his chest like a teenage girl who has had her diary read. “Why would it be you?”

Taehyung rests his elbow on the arm of the couch and holds his chin in his hand. His boxy mouth curves into a small smile, though Jungkook isn’t fooled. The giddy look on Taehyung’s face is mocking.

What can he expect, really? Taehyung has just seen the portrait Jungkook has been drawing of him.

“Let me see it.”

“No.”

“If it’s not me, why can’t I?” Taehyung’s grin is sharp, canines glinting in the natural lighting.

Jungkook thinks about how Suyun said he should let Taehyung eat him.

“It’s not good…” Jungkook makes up an excuse. The portrait is good; Jungkook has been working on it for weeks. He told himself he needed a break from working on his comic and wanted to practice realism.

Really, he just likes looking at Taehyung.

“Y’know, bun, I’m majoring in Museum Studies and Studio Art,” Taehyung speaks casually as though he isn’t at all phased by the fact that some prey hybrid who thrust himself into his life has been creepily drawing him while he works. “I know a thing or two about good art.”

Jungkook knew this. He was surprised when he first learned that Taehyung wanted to work as a curator or exhibition designer in a museum. It was a cool career aspiration that Jungkook had never considered, probably because his mind was always clouded by the financial stability entering the tech industry could bring him. Now that he knows more about what’s out there in the world, he sometimes has his regrets.

“That makes me want to show you even less,” Jungkook mumbles, sneakily turning off the tablet and returning it to the coffee table. “Maybe some other time.”

Jungkook doesn’t know why he pseudo-promises a future where Taehyung may see his artwork, but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s the enthralling look in Taehyung’s eyes when he realized the drawing was of himself. Maybe it’s the warmth of Taehyung’s tail resting on Jungkook’s thigh.

Maybe Jungkook is actually losing his mind.

“I’ll hold you to that, bun,” Taehyung says with a grin. His eyes roam Jungkook’s face like he’s committing it to memory or searching for something amongst the scar on his cheek and the beauty mark under his bottom lip.

The bell above the cafe’s front door rings, drawing Taehyung’s attention away from Jungkook. A group of predators enters, led by the wolf hybrid Jungkook has unfortunately run across far too many times lately. It’s odd to see the same person so often, especially in such a large city as Seoul.

“Hoseok hyung!” Taehyung waves at one of the men. For a moment, Jungkook fears that Taehyung is calling over the wolf hybrid, but instead, a snake hybrid breaks off from the group to weave through the tables.

“Taehyungie, what’s up? Are you not working today?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss how Hoseok eyes him and Suyun. However, he doesn’t know how to interpret the snake hybrid’s expression. The slitted eyes throw him off.

“Nah, I’m just taking a break. You guys still going over to Byungchul’s later?”

When Hoseok nods, the white scales that contour his face and collarbones glitter.

“Are you?”

“Of course. I need a fucking break,” Taehyung groans, leaning his head back on the couch.

“Bringing your… friends with you?” Hoseok’s eyes sweep over him and Suyun, again hard to read.

Taehyung shifts slightly, and Jungkook tries to scoot over to give him more room. Taehyung stops him by wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s shoulders and gently drawing him into his side. Rather than be startled by Taehyung’s sudden out-of-character behavior, Jungkook melts into his embrace. Taehyung’s body is warm and firm, and his scent is so calming that Jungkook feels like he can fall asleep from how comfortable he is. He doesn’t even bother wondering why Taehyung is acting this way.

“Oh! I’m hanging out with Jackson’s family this weekend,” Suyun turns to give Jungkook an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you.”

As part of their Art History class final project, they’re supposed to visit a new ancient Egyptian art exhibit at the National Museum of Korea. Jungkook and Suyun had plans to go together over the weekend.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook reassures her with a small smile. He doesn’t mind going to the museum alone.

Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s shoulder. When Jungkook turns to look up at him, he still has his eyes on Hoseok. It’s a nice view, though. Jungkook can admire the curl of Taehyung’s pretty eyelashes and the jut of his plump lips. He has to fight the urge to nuzzle into his neck.

“He better not fucking bring any prey.”

Jungkook feels Taehyung tense as the wolf hybrid saunters to stand beside Hoseok. There’s something slimy about him, even beyond his gross comments toward Jungkook on his first day of school.

“That’s no way to speak about your hyung, Byungchul.” Taehyung’s response is clipped, a tone Jungkook isn’t familiar hearing from him.

Byungchul crosses his arms against his chest as if to puff himself up. He’s more muscular than Taehyung, but he isn’t as tall or broad, and he looks silly, forcing himself to seem bigger than he really is.

“You’ve already tainted the only predator cafe in the neighborhood by letting them in,” Byungchul gestures to Jungkook and Suyun, who frowns at him in a way she probably thinks is intimidating. “There’s no way you’re ruining our hangouts, too.”

The words don’t necessarily sting because Jungkook doesn’t know Byungchul, but they make him uneasy. It seems like a threat, something Jungkook has never experienced before. He’s never experienced any kind of discrimination before.

Standing up, Taehyung gets in Byungchul’s face, though Byungchul doesn’t back down.

“If you have a problem with them being here, you can leave.”

Jungkook, Suyun, and Hoseok watch silently as the two predators size each other up. Clearly, neither wants to back down, but Taehyung has an advantage over Byungchul because of his age and the fact that he works at the cafe. Eventually, Byungchul backs away with a glare in Jungkook and Suyun’s direction.

“Fine,” Byungchul grunts. He’s quick to turn his back on the group and shoulder through the front door, flinging it open hard enough that it’s loud when it slams closed behind him.

“What a little shit,” Hoseok says with a cackle that shows all his teeth. They’re pointy, too. Never has Jungkook been around so much danger. “He’ll never survive in the real world.”

Taehyung isn’t as amused. He motions for Jungkook and Suyun to get up once Hoseok has fallen into the line at the register.

“Can you please leave?” Taehyung asks with a weary sigh. Jungkook knows he and Suyun don’t have a say in the matter.

On another day, Jungkook would be sad, but he feels relieved to leave the cafe when Taehyung asks. He and Suyun don’t bother looking back when they slip out the front door like teens sneaking out of the house, careful not to draw attention to themselves.

“What bullshit,” Suyun huffs once they’re out of earshot of the cafe. She kicks a stray pebble on the sidewalk and watches it ricochet off a nearby tree.

“Do you have to deal with that kind of stuff a lot? Because of Jackson?” Jungkook asks quietly. He’s still shaken up, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Suyun shakes her head. “Most of his friends are pretty chill. Byungchul has something wrong with him.”

Clearly, Jungkook thinks as they make their way to the library. Maybe some predators are rotten apples. 

Series Masterlist

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd &daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

hello! i have a request for 'SbITILYP', if you don't mind. how about the reader trying to do something for hiccup to impress him/show him that she likes him? hiccup has been doing a lot of things for the reader so I think it'd be cute seeing the reader awkwardly attempt to do the same :)

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 28

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1110

Things come to a simple end.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, final part, half-fill

<Previous - First>

“I’m surprised it went this smooth,” Stoick grumbled, voice hollow with distance, “With Alvin-... I’d expect something from Hiccup, at least. That boy…”

“He’s ‘Too busy, eh?” Gobber asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, grunting and hopping as he did it, reattaching his prosthetic to his leg nub, “Prolly been off mackin’ on tha’ girlfriend o’ his.”

Right… Alvin.

“Ah,” Hiccup was flushed, rubbing his neck and brushing against already messy hair, “Yeah, I forgot about that…”

Toothless was around somewhere.

He glanced to the side, where you stood, equally embarrassed and mussed, shoulders hunched slightly, very red in the face.

You shifted in your skirts, resisting the urge to use your boot to scratch at the back of your thigh, which had been itchy for a little while, since you brushed up against some plant walking back from the forest.

You were just around the corner from Hiccup’s Dad -a bright and heavily painted corner; turns out his whole ‘painting the houses’ thing caught on, which meant a lot less of things burning down- though he wasn’t sure if you’d heard.

All the talk of criminal executions was depressing, though you missed it, lost in the puppy-love haze phase of your new relationship. Still, it was kind of a bummer. It was for the best that Alvin was gone, though. Less danger in that for you too -not just the riders or Stoick or anything else.

You hoped it didn’t bum Hiccup out too bad. You noticed it had been getting him down, and you’d done your best.

Your fingers curled together, hooked securely and delicately to his by the fingerpads, and you and Hiccup stood close enough that you could feel his body heat through his tunic though not yet enough for the two of you to be touching by the arm.

You’d just gotten back from a successful trip to the glowing algae pool.

His vest was slightly displaced and you were both sure he’d lost a bead or two.

In one hand you held the little Fireworm, wrapped in a carefully made chainmail blanket -it was hard to come up with something that wouldn’t pinch skin or scales- also wrapped in a layer of leather so that you could hold it comfortably. 

It squirmed slightly. 

He scuffed his prosthetic slightly, recently oiled, recently reforged with treads beaten into the bottom, which did a lot to help with gripping wet wood while you were walking hand-in-hand around Berk.

You wore a red tunic -his, really, he’d lent it to you again after you’d gotten some muck on yours- and a string of your own beads on leather cord tied around your neck, something Hiccup had picked nonchalantly from the forge and used to help make you a necklace. 

He’d tried to make you a bead once, but he wasn’t much of an artisan. 

“I mean, me too,” You huffed, feather swaying as you shifted, attached to a stick like a pom-pom on one end of a cat toy, “We’ve been busy with other things, though- Not like what Gobber said- I mean, you know…”

Hiccup nodded, though he was still looking forward. This was all still super new for the both of you.

 It would feel that way for a while.

You were still in disbelief- it was a wonder to you why he and Astrid didn’t pair up before. 

He traced the collar of his scarf slightly as Sharpshot lolled lazily by your feet, slightly wet and glow-ey by his lower half whenever he teased the shade with his tail. 

You knew Hiccup was bummed Devastated that the Screaming Death had destroyed all his hard work -a good deal of the things he’d built up in the village for you, though with some hard work and dirt pushed under your fingernails it had been fixed up pretty easy.

He seemed happier now. It hadn’t really been something you’d planned but you’d distracted him somewhat- your relationship was still very, very new, still.

And you made him a gift.

You’d tried crafting again. It was very scratchy and you’d definitely not done a very good job making sure the whole thing was even but it was a nice fading rainbow, the yarn dyed in all the colors in Roy G. Biv in darker, neutral tones.

“Looks like you fixed things right up, ‘Dragon Master,’” You stuck out your tongue at him, looking smug.

It -the scarf- covered the bottom of Hiccup’s chin. It didn’t really fit him but he wore it with pride, which made something flutter around in your guts in a way that was almost uncomfortable.

You predicted it would be around a week before he took it off.

Hiccup had unintentionally returned the favor. You got a satchel from him, small and attached to a belt with norse knots imprinted around the edges, sown neatly together. It was sort of like a fanny pack but with more buckles and also cool.

“Did you really have to use that?” Hiccup said, leaning his head towards you momentarily.

Sharpshot churr-ed in the squawky squeaky way only a terror could, blinking up at the feather attached to your hip as you adjusted your hand in Hiccup’s.

The small Fireworm in your other hand blinked beadily as it sometimes very rarely did.

“It is tacky,” You admitted, though that was definitely why you used it, “But you did a good enough job to deserve it, not that you have to do anything to deserve things.”

You gently bumped into him with your hip.

And he did a great job. Berk was back to how it was just before the Screaming Death -most of the roses ended up being fine, and the plants that were lost were easily replaced and reinforced by spiked metal fences and wooden pikes.

You’d also added a few new planters. Many of the houses stationed under ramps were popular real estate now for metal tins for glowing mushroom growing, which you knew there many new homeowners were proud of, not just because of the fact that it made them a lot of money.

The mushrooms were great for paint making and the extra roofing kept dragons from jumping over houses and messing with tiling.

It was heavy maintenance, but they were all Vikings. For a modern girl like you, you found it was all worth it, if not just for the convenience.

Living on Berk was rough, but it was good and different now. Even with all the Outcasts and the dragons and the hunters and everything else missing.

And you were happy. 

And maybe Hiccup’s crush hadn’t ended up being so onesided after all.