#they even put bat glitter in it :(

[sanguinessunflower]

I HAD THIS PERFECT, ABSOLUTELY PERFECT JASON WAX MELT THAT I GOT A FEW TIMES!! I ONLY HAVE ONE LEFT!! I went to go on Etsy and the store that made it CLOSED PERMANENTLY!

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HOW GOOD IT IS

I found the Insta and they have deleted EVERYTHING involved with their shop

I am now absolutely devastated and will be hoarding that wax melt bc it's so tiny and it's precious and I have only found one Jason Todd wax melt that imma order with my next paycheck

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[writingsbychlo]

IS IT NEW YEARS YET? | lorenzo berkshire

summary; you're not a huge fan of new years, since when was it all about couples, anyway? luckily, someone else is in the same boat.

word count; 6712

notes; this is completely unedited, it's bound to be riddled with mistakes. this is the second to last christmas fic, just my baby mattheo to go! I saved the best for last.

Sitting at the table, you did your very best to hide the scowl sitting on your face. Pansy had left you only a moment ago to dance with Luna, Astoria had pulled Draco away onto the floor ages ago, and Blaise was off flirting up a storm with every girl possible. Regulus was sulking at the bar with his brother, while Mattheo and Theo had long since snuck away to smoke and hide from the party. 

That just left you. Sat alone at the table, trying not to get too drunk as you watched all the happy couples around you mingle. The Christmas period had always been so fun, but lately, it only seemed to be a holiday for couples. Which, really wasn’t fair, in your opinion. They already had Valentine’s Day, why the fuck did they need this one, too?

However, everything seemed to be spinning around kissing at midnight, and dancing, and romance, and Luna’s bag full of grapes, for whatever that was about. You’d tuned out when she’d begun explaining. 

Glancing around the room in search of the only remaining member of your party who was unaccompanied, perhaps a little reprieve from the loneliness, you spotted Enzo near his parent's table. He looked, in a single word, uncomfortable. Scratching at the back of his neck, he wore a scowl, and while you couldn't hear over the loud music and chatter what he was saying all that distance away, it was clear that he wasn’t happy. 

His mother glared at him, and his anger dimmed only a second, a flash of fear in his eyes, a bob of his throat, but he didn’t back down. Finishing off the last of your drink and standing, the sequins of your dress glitter under the lights, falling perfectly in the simple, floor-length dress you’d chosen for the evening. 

As you wove through the bodies, heels clicking on the floor, you started to be able to pick out the deep rumble of his voice throughout the other conversations. He didn’t have a great relationship with his parents. Certainly, not as bad as others in the group, but strained He rarely wrote them, he only ever went home at Christmas and Summer, and they never came to visit. In almost a decade of knowing Enzo, you’d perhaps spoken to them three times, and once, was merely your introduction. 

“I’m not going to date a girl I don’t know just because you think I ought to!”

Your brows furrowed, stilling momentarily as his words raced through your mind. Regulus’ parents had tried to set him up with someone recently too, only six months ago, they’d sent him letter after letter about the eligible girls from other noble families he could woo. You’d gone pale upon discovering your own name on the list, quite highly ranked, and Regulus had assured you that as much as he loved you dearly as a friend, he had absolutely no interest in pursuing you romantically. Nor, any of the girls on the list. 

However, you hadn't expected Enzo’s parents to leap on him so fast. Your mother had been making some subtle comments about relationships lately, but nothing nearly so bold, not since your break-up. Enzo dragged a hand through his hair as he groaned, this conversation obviously wasn’t going in his favour, and you pitied him. 

In a generous mood, you finished your walk, closing in by his side and putting on the charming smile that you knew could win over any adult or peer, with a few simple words and a bat of your lashes. Anyone, except, perhaps Enzo’s mother. Her eyes narrowed on you as you placed a hand on Enzo’s lower back, standing respectably by his side, by far closer than could be considered friendly, as you smiled up at him. 

“Enzo, sweetie, Draco is looking for you.”

“Wh— What?” His brows pulled together, obviously confused, and you slipped your arm around his waist, settling in by his side. 

“Lorenzo, who’s your friend?” His mother’s cold tone sliced through the space between you as his gaze scanned over your features. 

“Hi, Mrs Berkshire.” You held your hand out offering your name, and she only hummed, shaking it loosely before returning her hand to her side, elegantly. “I’m Enzo’s… well, we haven’t quite figured out terms yet, have we? I’m his date tonight… at least, I hope?”

He did well to hide his flicker of surprise, before finally seeming to understand the aim of the game, his arm snaking around your body like a boyfriend might do, and curling you further into his side. “Of course you are, darling.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Your giggle was far more high-pitched and sweet than usual, but the tension bled from his mother’s shoulders just a fraction, as she analysed the pair of you. For emphasis, Enzo leaned in to press a polite kiss to your temple, and you stretched your smile wider, like a happy girlfriend would. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted, I promised Draco I’d find you, and you left me all alone at the table. I was starting to miss you, but now I see you were doing something important. I thought perhaps you’d snuck away with the boys.”

The piercing gaze of his mother drilled into you, but you didn’t falter, or show any weakness. In your social circles, one cowering sign was just an opening for snapping teeth at throats, and you wouldn't give anyone such an opportunity. 

“Why would you now simply tell us that you had a date, Lorenzo?” His mother eventually questioned, finally dragging her stare away from you and back to her son, and you felt like you could breathe again at last.

“Well, as you heard my girl say,” He murmured, stumbling only slightly over the words, and recovering them smoothly with a cough. “We haven’t settled on any kinds of labels yet. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or too forward.”

“And how long have you been seeing one another?” She wasted no time, raising a brow. 

“Just two months.” You smiled, and she flickered her sights to you for only a moment. “You raised a real gentleman, Mrs Berkshire. He’s been so patient and sweet, it can be so hard to find times between classes to see one another and spend time together. We’ve been taking it slow. I apologise if I come as a surprise to you tonight, that’s my fault. I asked Enzo not to write to you, because I haven’t told my own parents yet, you see.”

Leaning in to whisper your joke, as if you were passing secret information;

“My father can be a little over-protective, I wanted to spare Enzo, so I knew my father wouldn't scare him away.”

At that finally, a smirk broke on her lips. She made a vague sound of agreement, and you could feel your friend relax a little where your hand was rubbing his side, gently. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. Lorenzo, you may leave for now. But I do not expect to be kept in the dark on such matters again.”

Waggling a finger at him, he only nodded, eyes wide. “Of course, Mother. It won’t happen again.” 

Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he gave a hurried goodbye, before steering you away with his arm still around you, and guiding you back toward the other side of the room. When you were far enough away he knew his parents wouldn't hear them, he let out a shaky laugh, and turned to look down at you. 

“I don’t know if you’re brave, stupid, or both. Taking on my mother like that? Impressive, and also insane.”

“You have a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, Berkshire.” You tutted, and he only grinned. Dipping down, he kissed your cheek now, coming to a stop beside your table. 

“Thank you, for saving me back there.”

“Well, you seemed like you needed a save.” You shrugged, his arm still looped around your waist, hand on your lower back, rubbing lightly as he looked around the room. 

“You don’t have an actual date, right?” Leaning in, his breath brushed your ear, and you shuddered at the feel, “Because there’s a guy over there glaring at me like I kicked his dog.” 

His fingers touched your cheek, guiding your gaze to casually follow where he had been looking. As your eyes fixed on the man on the other side of the dance floor, you hardly concealed a scoff. He wasn’t glaring, so much as staring with curiosity now that you were the one looking. He smoothed a hand up his girlfriend’s leg as she sat beside him engaged in another conversation, not noticing where his attention now lingered. 

Turning your gaze away with a heavy sigh, your motions caused you to curl a little further into Enzo, who leant back enough to look down at you. “Is that the dickhead-ex that broke up with you in a letter a few months ago?” He whispered, and you could only nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. 

Over him, you might be, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You’d suspected for a while he might be cheating, based on how soon he’d moved on, how ingratiated into his social circles she seemed, but this was the first time you’d ever seen her. 

She was pretty.

“That would be the one.” You replied, and Enzo only hummed, freeing his other hand from his pocket to tip your face up, an act that was far more intimate than any touch the two of you had ever shared. His thumb smoothed over your cheek, flicking a gaze back to the other side of the room and smirking slightly. “I don’t need to make him jealous, Enz. As much as I appreciate the sentiments, this is unnecessary. 

It wasn't needed, but you couldn't deny it felt good. Felt good to be held again, to settle your hands on someone’s chest, to feel his steady heartbeat under your palm as he touched you so tenderly. “I know, but isn’t it nice? To make him see what he let go, to show him how you should’ve been treated. We’re stuck together all night anyway, might as well make it count for you too.”

“Why is it that we’re stuck together?” You murmured, scowling a little at his choice of words, even more so when he only chuckled. You both knew he didn’t mean it like that, but it felt better to channel a little bitterness than let in the hurt. 

“My parents now believe we’re a couple. Your heroic act of saving me now has consequences.” He clicked his tongue, his hand smoothing down to your neck, thumb under your chin to force you to look up at him. 

“I figured you’d sneak away to see the other boys once I got you out.”

“And abandon my doting girlfriend who comes to my rescue?” He gasped dramatically, shaking his head, and a small laugh fell from your lips. “I would never. So, what do you say? I’m in your debt, let me be your real date for the night. I promise I’m a fun date.”

“You don’t have to beg, Lorenzo. I’ll let you be my date.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me beg yet.” He smirked, a wicked look glinting in his eye, before he stepped back from you. Slipping the hand from your waist to slip into your own, he grasped tightly. “How about we go and get a drink?”

“I have a drink.”

“A real drink. I hate champagne, and I know you do too.” He cringed at the sight of your half-drunk glass, and didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to lead you both through the party and towards the bar. 

Settling in together, he pulled out a stool for you, tapping at the surface of it for you to sit on. When you shifted towards it, his hands settled on your waist, boosting you up to sit on it, and winking at the surprised sound that slipped free. 

He flagged down the bartender with a quick wave, before stepping in closer to your side, his hand finding a home on your lower back once again. Your spine was stiff, and you tried to convince yourself to relax, mumbling your drink order to the waitress as she passed by and took them both. 

Leaning back into his touch, he responded in kind, hand rubbing up and down your back softly, and turning to face you. Twisting your body on the stool, your knee bumped into his thigh, and your hand dropped to sit over the top of his on the bar before you. 

“So, didn’t expect your parents to be pushing your impending marriage so hard.” You murmured, tracing a finger over the prominent veins and marks in his hand, along each finger, all the way to the tips until they twitched, before returning to the back of his hand. On one finger sat a prominent family ring, the Slytherin ring on his thumb, and a couple of varied bands stacked amongst the others. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’m far too young to be considering marriage. I haven’t seen the world yet, I’ve never been in love. Not— Not that soul-shredding, intense kind of love. I want to experience that at least once. I want to pick my own wife.” He shook his head, casting you a downtrodden look, a pout on his lips. “Doesn’t seem like that’ll be in the playing cards for me.”

“You could always leave. After we graduate, we get to leave. Maybe you should just… run.”

He only raised a brow at you, shaking his head slightly. It was a stupid suggestion, really. There wasn’t a place he could go that he wouldn't be followed by the reputation of his family, of his magical status. Unless he were to give it all up, disappear as a muggle, and spend the rest of his life feeling like he’d chopped off a limb, or had a vital organ removed. 

“Sorry. Dumb thing to say.”

“No, it was sweet. You were just trying to be comforting.” He whispered, and the drinks were placed down before you both. Pushing your drink to you with two fingers, you tapped them together gently, glass clinking, before taking a sip of your cocktail. “I might milk this little situation you’ve gotten us into for a while, though. Let my parents believe I’m courting you back at Hogwarts, and when we call it quits, I’ll be heartbroken. I’ll tell them I need time to get over you.”

Shaking your head with a small laugh, the sound brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll milk that one too. I reckon I can buy myself… at least a year, all in all.”

“Only a year, is that all my fictional love is worth?” You raised a hand to your chest, and he stepped even closer, playing into the act as his arm tightened around your waist. 

“You’re right. You're the one. When you leave me, I’ll be devastated. I’ll never get over it. You’ll be my one that got away.” He gave a heavy sigh, a groan at the end of it, slumping slightly into the bar and only increasing his dramatics as you giggled. “Don’t leave me, I’ll be better! I’ll buy you more flowers, I’ll stop sleeping with my secretary!”

You were gathering odd looks at his declaration, an older couple behind you tittering disapprovingly but you didn’t care. Not as he straightened back up, standing closer to you still, and smiling at you so widely. Your cheeks flushed as he took in your features, and you sipped at the cold alcohol in your glass, fingers raising to your cheeks to hide the blush.

“Truly, though. Thank you. That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to step in for me.”

“I know, but you’re my friend. One of my best friends. I know you’d help me out in a pinch, too.” Your hand fell back to his, toying with the house ring on his thumb, and he twisted his hand to give you better access. Such a small gesture, but you appreciated it nonetheless, as he fed into your anxious habits with no extra thought, your chest flooding with warmth and gratitude for him.

“I would, but, my parents are more than just a pinch. You were brave, my mum likes to pride herself on being intimidating.”

“She doesn’t have to like me, but I knew she wouldn't hurt me.” He raised his brows, silently questioning, and you looked at his hand. Unfolding his loose fist, you laced your fingers through his. “You were there with me. I knew she wouldn't hurt me.”

His hand tightened around yours, and his throat bobbed slightly. Lifting your raised hands, he kissed your knuckles softly. Instead of finding words to respond, he used gestures, his eyes fixed on yours as everything that needed to be said shone in them. He wasn’t his parents you saw him for that and trusted him. This was real, it wasn’t just for show, and when he moved his lips from your skin, you cupped his cheek with your other hand. 

“I know you’re good, Enzo.” You whispered, a fragile tone for just him to hear over the music, and his smile wobbled from flirty to heartfelt. “You’ve been my friend for so long now, I feel pretty confident in saying I know who you are.”

“Thank you.” His words came on a rushed sigh, and you swiped your thumb across his cheekbone one final time, before pulling away to clasp your drink and take a sip. He kept a tight grip on your other hand, though, clasping it to his chest momentarily, before resting your joined hands back on the bar. “So, what have I got to do to get you to dance with me out there?”

“Oh, no. I don’t dance at these things.” You shook your head quickly, and his grin only stretched at that prospect. At the look on his face, you waved a finger at him. “I have never danced at one of these things before. You aren’t the first guy to ask. I. Don’t. Dance.”

“I say you can.” He snickered, humming a fragment of the song as your eyes rolled. Leaning in a little closer to him, his wicked, flirty smile was back. Your nose brushed his.

“Not a chance.”

He seemed to accept the challenge, finishing off the whiskey that was in his glass. He wasn��t giving up, and you knew for certain that once Enzo set his mind to something, he achieved it. He waved to the bartender again, ignoring her flirty smile as he placed his order with two fingers raised, “Can I get two shots of tequila, please?”

“Make it four.” You muttered, and his eyes sparkled as he corrected himself. Finishing off your own drink, you pushed the empty glass toward his own, nothing but an overly saturated berry left in the bottom. “How’d you know tequila is my go-to for shots?”

“Because, my darling, I am observant. In fourth year, you legitimately gagged when we gave you Sambuca to try and you refuse to touch it even to this day, you say vodka tastes like nail polish, and you never drink whiskey or rum. And, only a psychopath would shoot gin.” His nose scrunched up, and four shot glasses were soon placed down before you, each one being filled up, a few droplets escaping to the bar. A dish of salt and limes followed, and you awed silently over it as he wiggled his brows. 

“Fancy, we get the fruit, too.”

“Always impressive these days, every family trying to one-up each other with parties.” He handed you your first shot, clinking your glasses together and spilling some of the sticky amber liquid onto your fingertips. Sprinkling salt on your hand, he winked, “Cheers.”

Licking the salt from his own fingertips, you copied, licking the substance from the back of your hand. Quickly, you did your first shot, then the next, and before you could even reach for one, Enzo was pushing a slice of lime between your lips. He’d surely smudged your lipstick, and juice was now running down your chin, but he caught it with a quick swipe of his thumb, grinning around the citrus in his mouth as he sucked it dry, and winced. 

Pulling the lime out from between your teeth, laughter soon spilt over in its place, and you left the half-drained slice in one of the empty glasses. Licking the tips of your fingers for the remaining tequila, Enzo watched, eyes a little foggy, as you cleaned up. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” You muttered, and he leaned in again, invading your space as the woodsy smell of his cologne overpowered you, making you want to press your face into his neck. Instead, you held his gaze, with bated breath.

“Because it’s hot. And I’m only so strong.”

“Are you flirting with me, Enz?” You smirked, watching as he offered you his hand. Taking it, you hopped down from the bar stool, waiting for the effects of the shots to kick in, ready to welcome the numbing buzz they’d carry. 

“Most definitely. You like it?”

“I do, actually.”

Linking your arm through his own as he led you slowly to the dance floor, he patted your hand on his bicep. “You could try to sound less shocked by that. I’m great at flirting.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you put it into use before. That pretty smile, a few sweet words and a wink, you normally have women falling at your feet.”

As you reached the edge of the floor, he turned to face you, settling a hand on your hip, and tugging you in closer than needed. “But not you? Because you’re different to other girls.”

“Oh, no. I’m just like other girls. And it would work on me too, if I didn’t know you so well. Unfortunately, I’ve watched you throw up in your own shoe and eat food off the floor. You’ll have to work a little harder to get me.” Pinching your fingers between your faces to show a gap, he watched, before taking that hand and placing it on his shoulder, smoothly. 

“I love a good challenge.”

With that, he was sweeping you across the floor, your shocked laughter breaking free as he spun you suddenly into the madness of the dance floor. Perfected routines and perfect dances, and even in your addled mind, the steps began to come back to you. You’d always thought that there was something so eerie about the dances, the melancholic music that played, always building to a crashing crescendo. 

It felt like music with a tragic tale, spinning and dipping and dancing, like a Shakespeare play given music instead of words. Rows of perfectly organised dancers, all moving in perfect sync and harmony. 

Luckily, tonight, that structure seemed to have fallen apart a little. Various levels of dancing skills were taking place. Some were just swaying, others were performing flips and spins that made you dizzy, as you and Enzo settled somewhere in the middle. His hand tight on your waist, the other clasping your own, he spun you between people, guiding you towards the centre of the floor. 

“I thought you said you didn’t dance!”

“I don’t, that doesn’t mean I can’t. My mother had me in lessons three times a week as a child. I am an excellent dancer.” Glancing around, it was mercifully informal tonight, not the regimented performances it sometimes could be. “This whole… thing. It just creeps me out sometimes.”

“When they all dance in perfect, synchronised lines, like some kind of terrifying ballet performance?” He muttered, smiling and nodding as you wove past an older couple. 

“Yes!”

“I get you,” He hummed, shuddering a little. Ahead of you both, Draco was spinning a smiling Astoria, and he looked utterly exhausted by this point. She didn’t seem ready to stop dancing any time soon, though.

As he spun you back in, your arm wrapped around his neck this time, holding yourself closer to him and calming the crazy dance he’d drawn you into. He was smiling himself, cheeks flushed from the exertion, and as you began to move into a slower sway, his cheek came to rest against the top of your head. 

“You ever dance at one of these parties with your ex?”

“I told you, I don’t dance.” You mumble, the arm around his neck sliding, hand slipping to brush lightly at the hair on the base of his neck. He stretched his head a little further, leaning into the touch with a soft sigh. 

“You didn’t dance,” He corrected cheekily, pinching at your hip, and your eyes rolled upwards at his pedantic behaviour. “Your ex is watching us.”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

He made a vague noise before turning you subtly, so that you could see him now. The displeased look on his face, the narrowed eyes as he watched you and Enzo, and the way he turned in a flustered rush once he realised you’d caught him. “You may not care, but I’m getting a sick sort of satisfaction from it. I had to watch you hurt over him, even when you tried to pretend you weren’t. The way your face fell that day in the hall when you opened that letter, I’ll never forget it.”

“Enz…” Your whisper is barely audible, his own words mumbled by your ear so low they were barely decipherable. Goosebumps still rose along your skin at the snarl he made, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he shook his head. 

Dipping down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, so tender and loving that you felt your heart skip in your chest. “He’s a dick, and I wish I could do a lot more to him than just pork a few holes in his ego tonight. He deserves a right kicking.”

“I was over him long before that letter came. The distance had been growing.”

“Maybe so, but he’s still a prick.” Turning you around and around in slow circles, you gained and lost sight repeatedly each scene just a little different from the last. He was putting on a show, that was for sure, as Enzo took you for turns around the dance floor. One moment he had his new girlfriend in a passionate kiss, the next she was laughing as she stared up at him, the next, whispering sweet words in her ear. 

If you could see it, you were sure Enzo could too, his grip tightening on you protectively. Leaning up, you returned the affection, pulling his focus back to you as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go get another drink, yeah? I could use some hydration after all this dancing.”

He looked right through you, like he knew it was a distraction, and yet he nodded anyway, jaw clenched. This time, you took one of his hands in both of yours, leading him through the crowd as his fingers clutched your own. 

Settling at the bar, you called for two waters, before turning your gaze back to him. 

“Wish I could just push them both in the fireplace, and watch them burn.” 

His words made your eyes widen slightly, and you pressed a glass into his hand the moment they arrived, encouraging him to drink. “Enzo, why are you so bothered about this all of a sudden?”

“Because— Because I can see him now! And he’s a jackass, and I’m already mad enough about my parents, and the fact it’s this stupid day. I need something to channel my anger into, and he’s a mighty good conduit.” He took another swig of his drink, jaw clenching as he slammed the empty glass down and licked his lips. 

Placing a finger on his chin, you twisted his head to you, and he softened slightly as he looked. “Not a fan of New Year's, huh?”

“Not a fan of the holidays in general. Especially once I have to go home.” Your heart clenched for him. The expression on your face must’ve given you away, because he soon shrugged. “I used to love the holiday period, but nowadays, all my parents do is get at me. Plus, being single at Christmas sucks, y’know? Since when was this time all about love? I thought it was supposed to be about generosity and love and whatever. Now it’s all about couples.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and his brows furrowed. 

“What?”

Enzo had just echoed the exact sentiments you’d been thinking about only a couple of hours ago, and a breathless laugh escaped you as you shook your head. At least he understood you. “Nothing. Just, I was thinking the same thing, earlier.”

“Great minds.” He whispered, shaking a little tension out of his body and closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the fire was dulled, sweet sparkle back, and he loosed a heavy breath. “Sorry. That got heavy.”

“I’m always here for you to talk, Enz.”

He smiled, eyes closing again as he rested his forehead on yours, tugging you in with arms around your waist for a hug. His face moved, chin hooking over your shoulder, with a kiss pressed there as he did, which sent your pulse skyrocketing at the feel of his lips on your skin. “I love you, you know that, right? You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“Love you too, Enzo…” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled away, a shy smile on his face, and he nudged your glass to you this time. 

“Drink up. I want to get you back out on that dance floor. I take pride in knowing I’m the only man you’ll dance with.”

“Because you’re the most insistent man I’ve ever met. I know that if I said no, you’d only spend the whole night bugging me.”

“It’s charming how well you know me.” He teased, and your eyes rolled, resulting in a soft slap to the outside of your thigh as he tutted at you, mumbling about your attitude. “Oh, incoming.”

“Who—” You barely got the word out before an arm was slung over your shoulder, a heavy weight following as they leaned on you. Mattheo beamed at you lazily when you turned your head to see. Theo soon followed, shuffling his feet a little, and rubbing at his eyes. The second he saw the half-drunk glass of water in your hands, he lunged for it, managing to get the whole thing down in one go, without evening coming up for breath. “Jeez, how baked are you two?”

“Theo brought some good shit this time,” Mattheo murmured, kissing his fingers and waving them to the air, and Theo gave a delayed scoff after a couple of seconds. 

“I always bring good shit.”

“Agree to disagree.” Mattheo smiled, bopping his friend on the nose, as Enzo only laughed. 

“So, that’s where you two have been, huh? Outside smoking all night.”

“Not all night,” Theo smirked, waggling his brows as he produced his phone from his back pocket. “I spent a good deal of time flirting. I got six girls’ numbers, and Matt here only got four.”

He set off snickering as Mattheo only grumbled, and the moment he loosened his hold on you, you slipped free so he could lean against the bar instead. You didn’t get far, not before Enzo was snaking an arm around you, and tugging you into his chest. Theo might have been higher than a kite, but he didn’t miss the way Enzo’s touches trailed over your back, settling low on your spine. He smirked, eyes glinting when Enzo dropped an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. 

“So, what’s new with you two?”

“We’re dating now.” Enzo beamed, and Mattheo spluttered over his drinks order, the bartender wandering way as Mattheo turned to face you, and Theo’s jaw dropped. “Or, at least, that’s what we’re letting my parents believe, so they’ll hop off my dick about marrying some stranger.” 

You pat his chest for his use of words, and he shrugged. Finally, Draco seemed to have persuaded Astoria to let him go. She was now happily dancing with her sister, as Draco stumbled over to your group at the bar, and collapsed down onto a free stool. 

“That girl has more energy than a toddler on crack.”

“Interesting metaphor.” You said, and Draco only patted his chest, sticking an extra glass of water and a whiskey onto Mattheo’s order as he tried to get a drink once again. Turning his gaze back to you, those grey eyes slid from head to toe, a pale brow raising. 

“What’s with you two?”

“Haven’t you heard, Dray?” Theo mused, “They’re dating.”

He had a similar reaction to the other two, equally as entertaining until the news was broken, and you hid your laughter in Enzo’s shoulder. He was smiling, hiding his own amusement in your hair, his fingers playing with the tips as the strands spilt down your back. 

The night went on much the same, hours blurring by as more friends came and went, joining you in the group, before being pulled away. For a while, you sat on the stool beside Enzo, listening to Mattheo retell the story of their competition to get numbers. 

You let Enzo pull you onto the dance floor again, and even Mattheo, who swung you off-beat and out of sync to a song in his head, certainly not the one being played, but it made you laugh until your stomach hurt, so it was worth it. You danced with the girls too, and exchanged gossip in hushed whispers as you moved across the checkered floor. 

It always ended with you stumbling back to Enzo, progressively building more of a buzz as the night went on, falling back into the security of his arms. And he was always there, smiling, tucking hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead as he asked you whether you were having fun. For the first time in a long time at one of these events, you could say yes. 

Only as the hour was finally approaching midnight, less than fifteen minutes to go, did you all leave. Mattheo ordered several bottles of champagne, gathering two in his hands and passing two more to Theo. Then, he was commanding you all to follow him, and marching away without another word.

You shared a look with Enzo, before hopping down, following after him with an equally puzzled group. Your hand found Enzo’s quickly, a comfortable act that had become familiar far too quickly, but just for tonight, you didn’t care. Not as Mattheo led you down all and corridors, away from all the noise. 

Not as he led you all up, until you were exiting onto the roof. Below you, chatter filled the courtyard as the party guests began to file out onto the patio, ready to witness the fireworks. The view would be uninterrupted from here, a perfect view of it all, and a contented sound left your lips. 

Staring up at the night sky, stars twinkled in the cold void, and you rubbed one arm lightly as you stared into the vast openness. Only a second later, a jacket was slipping over your shoulders, and Enzo was turning you to him, guiding your arms through each of the sleeves, bashfully. 

“Told you I was a good date.” He winked, hand on your back as you followed the rest of your friends to sit down. 

“You said you were a fun date,”

“Well then, I’m a good and fun date.” He effectively ended the conversation with a kiss to your cheek, hand sliding dangerously low on your back as you gathered with the others. A couple of benches and boxes were up here, stacks of pallets for makeshift seating, and you settled onto one, Enzo following you down. 

Once you were sat, he pulled you in, tucking you into the heat of his side, and you curled in closer, twisting to face him. “Tonight has been… wonderful. Thank you.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you.” He whispered, nose brushing your hairline as the words were whispered onto your skin. “Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve ever had, and I never thought I’d say that about one of these parties.”

You fiddled with the edge of the sleeves hanging over your palms, grinning at him. Your head fell to his shoulder, and your gaze moved to scan over your friends. Draco and Astoria were cuddling equally as sweetly, as were Blaise and Daphne. Luna and Pansy were nowhere to be seen, but Tom and Reggie stood at the edge of the roof, talking quietly. Mattheo and Theo were bent over laughing, trying to pop the corks on the bottles, and almost taking out each other’s eyes each time. 

When a bottle was passed to you and Enzo, fizzing over the top and foaming on the wooden palette you perched on, you took a sip. The bitter liquid fizzed on your tongue just as the countdown began to sound from all of the people below. 

“Ten, nine, eight…” Mattheo screamed, arms held up in the air with his excitement. 

“Seven, six, five…” You murmured, sitting up straighter as the anticipation of the new year came in. 

“Four, three, two…” Enzo joined you, your face turning to smile at him as you heard his voice mix with yours. 

“One.” You spoke, just as Enzo leaned in. His lips closed over your own, warm and spicy from the lingering remnants of firewhiskey, and you groaned against his mouth. As you did, his hand slipped up to your cheek, angling your head just right as his tongue slid into your mouth.

He kissed slow, and deep, like he had all the time in the world to be here. You were gripping his shoulder, kissing back with just as much passion, sliding closer to him until there was no space between your body and his. Your thigh pressed to his own, his hand on your cheek slipping into your hair as he pulled back for a breath, just to dive right back in. 

And you loved it, leaning forward, chasing his lips, kissing him until you couldn’t think straight, couldn't think at all, unless it was about him. 

Finally, he pulled back, to the cheering and celebrating of your friends as the New Year rolled in. Fireworks began to explode behind you, and you sighed, breath clouding in the night air and floating up to the sky. Licking the taste of him from your lip as you panted, his nose bumped your own.

“What was that for?” You mumbled, the way he kissed you still playing over and over again in your mind like a loop. 

“Because when we go back,” He stole another kiss, your lips stretching in a smile as his palm engulfed your cheek. “I’d love to take you on a real date.”

You’d never looked at him like this before, never let yourself consider what it would be like to date Enzo. That urge had never arisen, everything between you both had always been platonic, he was one of your best friends. Now, as those pretty eyes opened up to stare at you, he was anything but platonic. 

He was pretty, in a way you’d acknowledged but never appreciated before. Loyal in a best friend way, but would doubtless be a wonderful boyfriend. He was doting, and kind, and sweet. He was cheeky and funny and caring. He was here, and interested, and if tonight had proven anything, it was your compatibility. 

You and Enzo worked well together, you made a great couple, and for the first time ever, he was staring at you in a way that made you think he wanted to take your clothes off. And you liked it. 

The choice seemed clear. 

“I’d like that too, Enzo.”

[princessbrunette]

all of a sudden, jj suddenly felt severely underdressed in his black muscle tank and cargo shorts. it’s not that he hadn’t been in a strip club before, he’d just never come to see pogue!bunny!reader at her place of work.

you’d left your shoes at the chateau after one of the many infamous pogue parties that you’d been invited to. if it were any other kind of cheap shoes, you’d probably just said forget about it. but for some bizarre reason, you’d worn some of your prettiest shoes that cost you an arm and a leg from the bills thrown your way at the club, so you’d been damned if you let those just get tossed in the trash because guys don’t know the value of things.

jj had actually used it as an excuse to slide into your instagram dms. shooting you a super casual ‘hey, left your shoes at the chateau. want em back?’ to which you responded ‘my hero!!!! <3’ and so on. anyway, the agreement was — he’d bring your shoes to you on your break.

it’s not as grimy on the inside as it is on the outside, but he doesn’t have much time to look around before he’s hearing the slapping of bare feet through the hallway — and suddenly a scantily dressed figure is throwing itself into his arms in the dimly lit space.

“holy— jesus christ.” he catches you anyway, though you can tell he doesn’t know where to put his hands, settling on the fat just beneath your ass. he swore you were put on this earth to tempt him.

“you came!” you smile in that melodic voice, unhardened by your surroundings. hell, he nearly did come.

“well, you called.” he shrugs, trying to be all nonchalant about it. he swings the shiny pink heels around his fingers and you squeal, taking them from him. “yeah— so, uh— if that’s all i could probably just see myself ou—” he juts a thumb towards the exit, going to stuff one hand in his pocket and missing all together as he backs away. he wasn’t sure why he was being so awkward, aside from the fact you were just stood infront of him wearing a tiny little triangle bra and a g string.

“stay!” your brows furrow adorably and it physically pains his chest, infact — he’s pretty sure he had a physical reaction, face screwing up with a wince. how does one tell the girl he’s attracted to that if he stays any longer he will pop a hard on? “s’the least i can do. come watch the show. i can hook you up with wings and some beers for free?” you bat your faux-lashes, the glitter on your cheekbone glowing in the low lighting as you tilt your head sweetly, putting on a show to convince him.

“wings, beer n’ boobs? you’re talkin’ my language young lady.” he smirks, unable to hide his usual ways and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“yay, follow me!” you grip his hand, long acrylics scratching against his wrist and he rolls his lips together, eyes practically following each jiggle of your ass cheek as you walk before he even realises he’s in the main section. you settle him in, a little booth that usually probably occupies pervy businessmen— which really makes the blonde feel out of place. he came alone, and now he was sat here — occupying a booth. what kind of creep comes to watch strippers alone?

he’s about to jump up and make up an excuse to leave in pure embarrassment, but you’re smoothing your hands along his shoulders, batting your lashes and telling him you wish you could stay and chat but you’ve gotta go dance, and that his wings and beer will be coming soon. he blinks at you, under a trance and settles into the worn and suspiciously sticky leather arm chair.

soon you’re up on that stage and he wants to sink into the fucking ground. you’re unbelievably hot, and now it’s like something out of a porno he made in his mind, watching you saunter around the pole, dropping down to the ground and arching your back, shaking the meat of your ass effortlessly as faceless men throw money your way. he had nothing to throw but some receipts and old nickels in his pockets and he didn’t think you’d appreciate that — which didn’t matter anyway, because he was somewhat stuck to his seat.

he lifts his hands to adjust his cap before realising he’s not wearing one, and just as he realises his dick is sitting hot, heavy and hard in his shorts— you’re off stage, bounding over with everything jiggling. lord help him.

he thinks he might die when you clamber confidently onto his lap, straddling him front on.

“so how was it jayj did you like it? i know it’s a lil’ weird seeing me up there, i’m your friend n’all but was the song choice good atleast?” you tilt your head like a befuddled puppy dog before wriggling around— crotch to cock. “oh, nevermind. i can feel that you’re like super hard so i take it that you liked the show!” you smile, like you’d just said the most innocent sentence in the world. jj blinks, lips agape.

“uh— y—no, yeah it was… well, y’know. the body doesn’t lie.” he bucks his hips lightly in gesture before immediately internally questioning why he’d do something so creepy. luckily, you giggle — but he’s not sure if it’s because you liked it or because you’re well trained.

“well, next time you get paid come get a lapdance i’ll fix that problem jayj, even give you a discount.” you let that giggle slip through again, but there’s a breathiness to your tone that feels all too real. his brows jump up, eyes flickering unashamedly to your tits as you lean forward to his ear. “or jus’ get me drunk again next weekend? will probably do it for free ‘cus i like you.” you admit, looking all nervous when you pull back. you just shook your ass on stage, yet jj maybank was making you flustered.

“for sure. yeah uh— can… can definitely do that. yep.” he plays it calm and collected, sees you out with another bone crushing hug against your tits before speed walking to his company truck that he drove over here. his shift was over, so he wasn’t rushing to get back to work. moreso to beat off in the parking lot thinking about pulling that g-string of yours to the side.

[rooksunday]

when the coruscant guard toured their new barracks, they immediately clocked a problem.

“where are the rest of the bunks?” stone asked, looking between his datapad of assignments, and the last of the dozen bunkrooms.

even sleeping two to a pod, with four pods to a room— even hotbunking, like they were going to have to if the ‘suggested’ shift schedule was correct— there simply weren’t enough beds.

thorn grimaced. “we could give up the rec room and mess.”

“and eat where? and we need at least one room for sitting in and staring into the middle distance,” stone countered. they’d been doing a lot of the latter that day already.

with a conceding shrug, thorn turned to fox, who had been increasingly stiff and silent as the inspection had continued. stone couldn’t blame him. the building that the senate had ‘generously provided’ appeared to be held together by force of habit and spite; stone could relate, but he didn’t want to spend a war there.

“what are you thinking, sir?” stone prompted fox. the vod was always thinking something. that was his problem.

fox shook his head slightly, as if stepping out of deep water. he hummed.

“i saw something on the holonet… leave it with me,” he said.

after fox had left—marching with determination toward the broom cupboard he’d claimed as a an office—stone turned to face thorn, who was already looking at him with a particular tilt to his visor.

“on the holonet?” thorn repeated. “have you got any idea what he’s talking about? all he looks at on there is conspiracy theories and pictures of tookas.”

stone slowly shook his head. “i’m sure it’ll be fine. i’m sure it’ll be… fine.”

the guard moved in. they made it work. what other option did they have?

six weeks after landing on coruscant, fox burst into the commanders’ shared bunk with something fluorescent streaked across his armour and the stench of burnt feathers in his wake. he’d lost his helmet somewhere. stone had been cleaning his armour and threw the cloth at fox in instinctive reaction, but fox just batted it away.

“what the kark, sir?” stone spat out, heart thick in his throat.

“whuzzat?” thorn mumbled as he rose to a sit. “fox, you stink.”

“of victory,” fox countered. he stalked across the room and thrust and vial of smoking … something… to stone. “here, drink this.”

stone’s eyebrows rose. “no? sir?”

“is it tasty?” thorn asked, sleepily.

fox produced another vial from his utility belt and held that one out to thorn. he popped the cap with his thumb. smoke boiled out, glittering like dust motes. this vial was presented to thorn.

“i put honey in yours,” fox said.

of course he did.

but if fox was handing mysterious vials to thorn, he probably wasn’t planning to kill them all. probably. besides, it had been a long assignment and the war wasn’t going anywhere. the chancellor wasn’t going anywhere. stone took his vial, and saw thorn take his.

“well. cheers, i suppose,” he said, catching eyes with thorn, who rose his vial in turn.

between them, fox danced from foot to foot like he’d drank too much water before a long shift. his attention flickered between stone and thorn as they drank. his eyes were bright and he kept making and unmaking fists at his sides. he looked like a tubie waiting for their first live fire drill.

stone drank.

“huh. that doesn’t—“

then things got really kriffed up.

cody rubbed at his comm as if that would help comprehension.

“say again? some interference on my end,” he said.

the tiny blue rex rubbed the bridge of his nose. “tookas, vod. hundreds of tookas. they’re all over the senate building. they’ve herded the chancellor into his office and are blocking the hallway. no one can move them. the optics would be terrible.”

“where did they come from? can’t the coruscant guard take care of it?” cody didn’t want to assign fox to animal crowd control, but wasn’t protecting the senate his job? an invasion probably counted.

“that’s the problem. one of the tookas… it knows dadita.”

“excuse me, captain. did you say there’s a tooka that knows dadita?” general kenobi asked, leaning in to see rex. he’d been working on the other side of the office on the negotiator; sound didn’t have far to travel.

“that’s right, sir.”

“fascinating. what did it have to say for itself?”

rex shifted his weight. he looked off-camera. “it said, ‘tell cody i’m the kar— i’m still the smart one’. sir.”

silence weighed heavily in the room. cody scratched his nose and turned the message over for a second time. a third. an eleventh.

“therefore you believe that this tooka—“

“is commander fox, sir, yes,” cody said, so rex didn’t have to.

“fascinating,” kenobi said again.

“yes, sir,” rex said, his tone implying that fascination wasn’t really the problem. “and also— excuse me, sirs, one moment.” his voice became louder as he looked off-cam again, and his brow furrowed. “did someone give fox’ika a lightsaber? why is it red? what do you mean, you found it in the chancellor’s office?”

cody met his general’s eyes, and suspected his own were as wide.

blast it, fox was the smart one.

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Trick or Treat…or Else

This is unfinished because I felt like I kept screwing up Jason’s characterisation a bit. Gotta work on that.

Jason glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall to his left, it’s was 2:57 on Halloween. His patrol wasn’t due to start for a few more hours, but something tugged at him that cause him to feel like something was going to happen. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad feeling just yet. He just knew that whatever is was put him on edge.

“Haven’t you taken enough pictures, Danny?” Tucker laughed through the screen of the computer Danny had set up in a four way call between himself, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz.

“I could never have too many pictures of my little princess!” Danny retorted as he snapped another photo of little Ellie in her Halloween costume.

“Ahem!” Ellie puffed out her chest and put her hands on her hips. The pose made her look even cuter, Danny thought.

“Oh my apologise,” Danny grinned cheekily, “my little badass.” He corrected himself.

Ellie, decked out in her mini Red Hood costume. The child sized leather jacket had been a gift courtesy of Sam, while the mini Red Hood helmet had been designed and built by both Tucker and Danny working together to ensure it would be perfect. They might have gone a little overboard however, since they’d managed to incorporated a real working com unit, an air filtration system in case of a gas attack, night vision, heat vision, and an emergency beacon should Ellie wander off and get lost that only Danny or Tucker could access. Danny had also hand painted two nerf guns for her, and gave her hand painted ‘grenades’ that were just glitter bombs. Ellie had insisted, just in case she was ‘forced’ to choose ‘trick’ from Trick or Treat.

“Danny,” Jazz voice held a fondness to it, “if you keep it up with the picture not only will you no longer have any space on there, you guys will be too late for the trick or treating.”

“Oh no! I don’t wanna miss it,” Ellie ran to Danny and started tugging on the sleeve of his costume, “let’s go!” She looked up at him and though the helmet obstructed Danny being able to see Ellie’s face, he could feel it in his bones that she was giving him those big puppy dog eyes of hers.

After a dramatic show of sighing in defeat, he picked up his daughter and said, “alright my starlight, but let’s say bye to the others first though.”

“Bye Uncle Tuck, Aunty Sam, and Aunt Jazz!” Ellie waved her little gloves hand at the screen from her place in her dad’s arms.

Tucker, Sam and Jazz all waved back and said their goodbyes and wishing her a fun time trick or treating. Danny bid his friends and sister farewell and ended the call.

“C’mon Little Hood, let’s go bug our neighbours for candy,” Danny beamed at Ellie as he put her back down and held out her candy bucket which had been a plastic black pumpkin from a dollar store. He’d hand painted a red bat symbol on the front of it for her, so that it would match her costume more. Ellie held the bucket in one hand, and held her dad’s hand in the other as they exited their apartment.

The clock had ticked over to 3:20pm the next time Jason spared it a glance. The trick or treaters would be put and about now. Most cities started later, but in Gotham there was always the risk of a rouge attack, so many parents would go out earlier, just to make sure they were home to avoid being out when it started to get darker.

Jason stretched his arms above his head and marked his page before putting down the book he’d just been reading. He stood up slowly and made his way over to his front door, checking that he had some Halloween candy at the ready just in case someone knocked on his door before he took off for the night. Jason knew that his building had several families with children under 14, so the likely hood of getting at least one truck or treated was pretty high.

When he was satisfied that he had everything in place he returned to the couch, picked his book back up and waited.

“Trick or treat!” Ellie cheered as the door opened.

The middle aged woman who opened the door let out a small gasp, “oh my,” she said with a smile, “Red Hood, I didn’t know you’d be patrolling our building?” Her tone was teasing as she reached somewhere past the door to grab some candy for Ellie’s pumpkin.

“Of course ma’am!” Ellie happily played along, making her own attempt at a deep ‘man’ voice, “crime could be anywhere!”

“Well I certainly feel safer knowing you’re out there protecting us Red Hood,” the woman laughed, “have a good patrol.” With that she closed the door, and Danny and Ellie Bahn making their way to the next ‘civilian’ as Ellie had started to call their neighbours.

Five groups of kids had come to Jason’s door so far. It was getting later, and he knew he’d need to start getting ready soon. Just as he was weighing the pros and cons of heading out on patrol early another knock sounded from the door to his apartment.

[greycaelum]

Hi ! It's me again, I just wanted to add that I think you're absolutely amazing. Your writing is perfect, and out of all the stories I've read about Satoru, I feel like you have the best interpretation of him, and you do a great job of conveying that in your writing. That's why I wanted to thank you for taking us on a journey and allowing us to escape into a world with Satoru!

I also wanted to make a small request, but of course you can ignore this part if you don't feel like it! The Kaleidoscope series is by far my favorite, and I wanted to see Satoru's wife be a little jealous...he's such a simp for her, and only has eyes for her, so she never has to worry about anything, and I love that, but why not have a little turn of events with lots of fluff.

Thank you!

- Machi ⭐️

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Territorial }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, a lil' wifezilla moment with y/n

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.1k)— champagne moments, homewrecker alert, PDA *in capital letters

�� A/N: midterms put the nail to my coffin, but here's a glass of bubbly to that~🥂

Your husband without question is a fine-looking man. Too fine sometimes. But you could never count how many times girls bat lashes in his direction or even try to snag your man away with their sultry clothes almost showing their souls to him.

Your reaction?

Well, normal.

If you were a jealous woman having Satoru as your man is a big no, no. He catches too much attention for his own good. Both by males at work and girls at the sides.

But it never roused an extensive feeling of jealousy or envy in your side. Albeit after years of being with him that is. Others may call it arrogance or simply the steeled assurance between the two of you... But you've never been put in a critical position where you have the urgency of stating your claim over Satoru. They could kneel and lay down his feet but only you can touch your man.

You sip the champagne served for you at tonight's gala. It's an annual social gathering held by the prime minister for the Jujutsu clans. And the Gojo Clan being at the top of the Three Great Families of the Jujutsu society, you must attend for the formalities or whatnots.

What a bore...

Satoru's attitude must have rubbed on you for finding the opulent hall, with glitters and dazzle to be such a stifling event. Your eyes roamed around and found nothing worth noting except for the chocolate fountain Saika would've gone crazy about if she was here.

On the other hand, Satoru is crowded by both men and women. His mere height makes it hard not to spot him in the room. Not to add the newly tailored montsuki you had for him makes him eye-catching.

You had to ask him to let you sit after standing and greeting other attendees for so long. Now you're here sitting on the corner, catching your poise while passing boredom with your glass of bubbly.

Satoru is holding a glass of his extra extra sweet non-alcohol mocktail. Judging by the frequent sarcasm in his words and scrunched of his nose he will come to you and ask to go home before half an hour from now.

That was what you supposed until a younger lady came forward and started talking directly to Satoru ignoring the people around her as she laughed obnoxiously for your liking.

Call it a woman's instinct when you easily narrow to the side of your eyes as she tries to bend a little lower exposing a bit of her cleavage. Satoru didn't react much and continued talking anyway.

You don't know the girl's family background but from her flashy appearance, diamonds sparkling on her, you could surmise that she came from an influential family enough to be personally invited by the prime minister. She's too... gaudy.

It was only when she tried to offer another glass of champagne to Satoru by grabbing onto his arms and pushing the flute towards Satoru that your brow raised. She wasn't able to touch him because of Satoru's Infinity but it still counts as something uncomfortable for a lady to do with a married man.

People never really learned... It's funny seeing them try so hard, but there should be a limit to it.

Satoru's temple creased as well. But he wasn't able to do anything more when a hand grabbed the flute of the champagne being shoved toward him and a familiar sweet jasmine scent filled his nostrils. The sound of your zori heels against the marble floor broke the awkward atmosphere.

You took the flute from the surprised and confused girl and leisurely sipped the liquor before turning to whisper something to Satoru's ear but your eyes never left the girl. His Infinity dissolved the second you held on to his elbow.

"Hey Baby," Satoru hummed with a bright smile on his lips.

"She's. Annoying. Me." You punctuated the word before baring your teeth and sinking them in his enticing earlobe you only let go when you heard a subtle needy whine from your husband. An arm immediately wrapped on the back of your waist to steady you. Satoru mumbled an incoherent phrase as you hummed back in reply.

The small group was stunned and at the same time flushed at the sudden move from your side. You simply smiled and surveyed your eyes on the people, your eyes took their time to watch the young lady with a scowl on her face.

"My husband is non-alcoholic, I will take this drink for him." You downed the flute of bubbles in one go before giving the passing server the empty glass and bending a little to whisper in the young lady's ear.

There's a glint in your eyes that made everyone look away and slowly withdraw to scatter around the hall.

"There's a thin line between brave and stupid." You stood back straight and softly smiled. "Which one are you, little girl?"

She better thank whatever devil possessed you to drink a lot tonight that you're feeling a little too tipsy to argue. An arm snaked at the back of your waist whilst a hand landed on your hips to steady you.

Like a pup with its tail tucked between her legs, she turned her heel, flushed cheeks, and hunched shoulders as she walked to the other side of the banquet.

You rolled your eyes and looked for the nearest seat but a firm grip on your hips reminded you of the towering man holding you upright.

"Loved your little show~" Satoru chuckled as he tilted your dazed face higher so you could stare into his enthralling blue orbs. "My pretty, pretty Baby, so territorial over me, huh?"

You weren't able to answer back as he took your lips for a quick and sweet kiss, in the midst of the crowd, you both stood there. Him, with a victorious and satisfied smirk, and you, tipsy and in a stupor of the outward display of affection.

The crowd turned away, some gasped, some looked scandalized, and some were grinning ear to ear. Satoru and his penchant for lack of decorum is shining so brightly.

You're not teens anymore, you're both married for more or less 10 years, but damn this sweet man for never failing in drawing you in his touch. You gripped his haori. What's worse is you cannot bring your lips to protest.

Satoru sensed this and finally guided you away from the crowd, only after he kissed your temples one more time.

"My Mrs. Gojo." Satoru grinned.

Maybe you never needed to do this little stunt but for some reason this small pettiness makes your heart beat like a teenager head over heels for Satoru... What's more, is that—

That ought to teach them where he belongs.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[littlexdeaths]

ten minus two with you - r.b.

modern robin buckley x queer reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: robin and reader are in their 20’s, allusions to smut, reader is a tease, oral sex, fingering, public sex, heavy petting, both reader and robin are tipsy & in love, getting caught, little nod to queer steve

a/n: this is absolutely inspired by the few times i’ve had steamy make out sessions in bathroom stalls oops. the title is a line from one of kehlani’s new songs called 8… go stream it now.

word count: 1.7k

also big thank you to both @strangerstilinski and @xxbimbobunnyxx for listening to me ramble and helping me so much. ily both so much!! now enjoy babes xx.

You’re a mess of limbs and colorful fabric as you both stumble into the bathroom of the bar. Your sweaty bodies are buzzing from the flow of alcohol in your veins and the feel of her lips against yours.

Your lipgloss is smudged, the glitter littering your cheeks has transferred to hers in your hurry to taste each other. The blonde eagerly leads you into the stall, caging your body against the door. Her fingers fumble to slide the lock into place before they are back on you.

“You really know how to keep a girl waiting, huh?” She all but grumbles, earning a small giggle from you as her lips trail down your jaw.

You hadn’t meant to tease her per se, but it was genuinely so easy with Robin.

All you had to do was bat your lashes in her general direction and she’s flustered. But the outfit you’d chosen to wear for the pride festivities really had her riled up. Even though you had spent the early afternoon getting ready together, she wasn’t expecting it.

The sounds of Pom Pom Squad filter through your shared apartment, all sorts of makeup products scattered across the floor of your bedroom. You both sat amongst the chaos, giggling in excitement as you passed a cheap bottle of wine back and forth.

While Robin wasn’t too keen on wearing makeup most days, she happily let you paint her lids in varying shades of pink and orange. The wine had you both feeling fuzzy, stealing chaste kisses as Robin helped apply a sticky rainbow glitter to your cheeks.

Her brows were scrunched in concentration, her tongue just barely poking out from between her teeth as she worked.

“So serious, Robs.” you giggle.

She just grins, shaking her head fondly as she wipes the remaining glitter on a makeup wipe.

“I take my job as resident glitter artist very seriously,” she teases, pressing a small kiss to your nose.

When her phone starts to ring in the other room she is quick to go get it, knowing it would likely be Steve. Which left you to finish putting your outfit together as she reiterated to him what the plans were for the day. Robin had everything planned out, your group would meet to watch the pride parade in downtown Indy.

Then you would end the evening with a little pub crawl of her own design. She’s had this planned for weeks now, determined to make your first pride as an official couple a memorable one. But the one thing your girlfriend wasn’t prepared for was the way she’d react to seeing your outfit in its full glory.

So when you stepped into the living room wearing a cropped, bright pink shirt with the words ‘The Pussy Diet’ etched across the front her jaw dropped. You paired it with a pair of high waisted cutoff shorts that hugged your curves just right, fishnets and your trusted Doc Martens— you were everything she’s ever wanted.

“I think you’ve got some drool there, baby,” you smirk, stepping between her open legs as you swipe your thumb over the corner of her mouth.

Robin responds by guiding your thumb past her lips, tongue swirling around it. With a soft groan her fingers dig into the meat of your hips as she maneuvers you onto her lap. Her lips find yours in a clash of tongues and teeth, causing a soft mewl to rise in your throat.

If it wasn’t for Steve’s insistent banging on your apartment door, your girlfriend would’ve had you sprawled out on the sofa until your legs were shaking. But your friends were waiting on you, so she reluctantly let you tug her along without any further protest.

However your accidental teasing only continued to escalate the more the day went on.

During the parade you had coaxed her onto your lap, in the rush to leave your apartment you had forgotten to bring an extra lawn chair. Your hands unconsciously wandered beneath the hem of her button down shirt, fingertips splaying across her soft skin.

Under normal circumstances she would find this kind of touch comforting, but instead it had her fighting the urge to slide your hand just a little lower…

“— You okay, Robbie?”

Your soft voice snaps her out of her trance, her cheeks flushing as a nervous laugh leaves her lips.

“Oh, yeah!” She rasps, trying her best to play off the obvious hitch in her tone. “Never better.”

As she continues to watch the parade, you find yourself studying her. Her cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of pink, her leg bouncing in between your own. Robin could easily blame the scorching summer heat for the reason behind her blush, but you knew better.

It was obvious by the way her breath hitched whenever your fingertips grazed her skin, and she carefully pressed her thighs together. She wants you, and she wants you badly. So you really can’t help yourself from wanting to tease her even more.

And you do, but subtly enough that your friends wouldn’t take notice. You’d slip your hand into the back pocket of her jeans as you walked between bars. Squeezing her ass as you pull her in for a needy kiss when no one was paying attention.

You even gave her a little show when you did a sultry rendition of Crimson & Clover at a karaoke bar you stopped at. You watched in absolute delight at the way her bright eyes never left you, even as Steve so desperately tried to get her attention.

So much for being his wing-woman tonight.

But the worst was when you were on the dance floor, losing yourself in the music. She opted to watch for a while, eyes darkening with each sway of your hips. But with Steve now preoccupied by a gorgeous drag queen, Robin had no choice when you coaxed her over with your index finger.

Her feet carry her across the sticky dance floor, her body all but melting into yours. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you wrap your arms around her waist, tugging her closer so your breasts are flush against her own. But when your lips brush against her ear, and you start grinding on her thigh is the moment she loses what little self control she has left.

Robin takes your hand and urgently tugs you through a sea of rainbow lights and glitter, your heartbeat rivals the pounding bass as you enter the bathroom.

But once she has you pinned to that metal door, it’s game over.

The feeling of her lips trailing over your sweaty skin is utterly intoxicating and when her fingers dip past the hem of your shorts you’re putty in her nimble hands. Those same fingers glide through the mess between your thighs, coaxing not one, but two orgasms from you in record time.

So in your mind, she’s definitely earned this.

“That’s— ah,” she pants, her hips rutting up against your mouth as you continue to lap at her puffy clit. “That’s so good, honey. Fuck, you’re so good.”

Robin can almost feel the way your lips lift up in a grin as a mixture of your own saliva and her juices drip down your chin like liquid honey. You pin her hips to the cool metal of the stall wall in an effort to stop her from squirming more.

The feeling of the grimy tile beneath your knees does nothing to deter you, if anything it encourages you more. Just knowing that anyone could walk through that door at any given minute makes all this that much more exciting.

“Hm,” you hum, against her. “You like it when I do this?”

You flatten your tongue, rubbing firm circles over her swollen bud as you slip another finger inside her. Robin keens at the feeling, her fingers gripping onto the edge of the stall to steady herself while her other hand cups the nape of your neck to hold you in place.

“God, yes,” she babbles, her cerulean hues taking on a glassy quality. “I’m so close, baby.”

Her leg that was hooked over your shoulder starts to tremble when you apply more pressure to her clit. Your fingers increase their pace, curving them to rub up against her sweet spot just right. Robin is a beautiful, panting mess above you and that sight alone is enough to have you moaning against her pussy.

Neither of you register the bathroom door opening or the click of heels walking past your stall over the heavy bass from inside the bar and the soft whimpers your girlfriend was letting out. But when the sink turns on both of you freeze, silently praying that the person on the other side didn’t notice you.

A moment passes in silence, and you think you’re in the clear. Just as you’re about to continue circling your tongue over her clit, a melodic voice stops you.

“You know… if you’re really looking for some privacy,” they pause, shutting the water off. “There’s a lot less traffic behind the bar, dolls.”

You curse softly, a resounding chuckle leaves them as you fumble to help Robin put her jeans back on. Her face is deeply flushed from the embarrassment of being caught in this position and the buildup of her now stalled orgasm.

You finally dared a glance through the crack in the chipped metal frame and you’re faced with one of the many queens you’d seen perform earlier in the night. She meets your eyes in the mirror before giving you a playful wink as she fluffs her large blonde wig and turns on her heel back towards the door.

“Now, don’t do something I wouldn't!” She pauses before her laughter echoes through the bathroom again, “Or do, live a little. Happy Pride, lovelies.”

She calls over her shoulder, the sounds from the bar spill back into the bathroom before you’re both met with subdued silence. You lean back against the stall wall opposite of Robin, both of you suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles at what just transpired.

“I can’t believe Miss Anna Conda herself, just caught us like this,” you snort.

Robin just gazes at you, hooking her fingers into the loops of your shorts to pull you in closer. She’s practically glowing as she nudges her nose against yours with a playful grin.

“Take me home?” she asks, though her question is slightly muffled when your lips find hers again.

“Always.”

tagging some lovelies: @edsbug @eddiesxangel @splendiferous-bitch @undead-supernova @paybacksawitch @nailbatanddungeon @lokis-army-77 @babygorewhore @voyeurmunson @bimbobaggins69

[puppetmaster13u]

So I am rotating the batfamily, but not like, civilian or vigilante. I am slowly rotating them all having a Malone-sona of sorts that is their in to organized crime.

Like you can't tell me people wouldn't start noticing this family that the bats, the literal cryptids and monsters of Gotham, don't even touch and lets continue to operate despite taking the older crime families apart.

And to Gotham that screams power.

Alfred = Albert “Old Al” Malone I wanna say that he doesn't go out as 'Old Al' often, but gives off Godfather sort of vibes. Usually sitting there with an old cane (that definitely has a sword, they're all dramatic like that lol) half in the dark with a cup of tea or other drink. He gets to stretch his acting skills and honestly the kids definitely had a say in the persona. Old Al is something they all made together and they have fun implying so much fun shit.

Kate = Mary “Madam” Malone She definitely gives off 'snap your spine over her knee if not for the fact it would get your blood all over her clothes' vibes. Stylized nails, hair up in fishtail braids or ponytails or whatever, looks like she could tear out ones throat and they'd thank her. It's a running gag that she's in finances, even if no one in the underbelly believes it.

Bruce = “Matches” Malone I mean, it's classic Matches (though most probably assume that Matches isn't his real name) who seems rather chill until someone breaks the rules. Gives off vibes that he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty but will do so to make a point, and enjoy doing it. He sometimes uses Matches to check in on places he can't as a shadowy cryptid, and it's not like the lower income areas would fully trust Brucie Wayne.

Barbara = Madison “Maddie” Malone Now let's be honest, Barbara enjoys messing with people, she enjoys knowing every little thing as Oracle, and she definitely does that as Maddie. The thing is, no one knows how she learns about things, other criminals search for a traitor, for a leak, for anything, and get nothing. Which is utterly terrifying. Because there has to be some sort of information network, there has to be. And somehow they're so good that they're indistinguishable to any others.

Dick = Micheal “Mikey” Malone Honestly Dick uses this chance to get into a bunch of fights just for fun. Flirts a bit more freely but doesn't really have an interest in actually getting with someone. Just has funs and is known for throwing his own parties that usually end in free-for-all brawls. He absolutely loves being able to have parties that are the opposite of galas he's usually dragged into.

Cass = Molly Malone She's quiet and graceful, but she takes it to unnerving levels as Molly. Looks slim but carries guns on her at all time to better differentiate between Cassandra Wayne, Black Bat, and Molly Malone. Everyone knows if you need a weapon, guns, meelee, whatever, she's the one you go to. Gotham help you if you cross her though.

Jason = Peter “Petey” Malone Where Molly Malone goes, everyone knows Petey will be there as well. Jason absolutely adores the time he gets to do so, it's his turn to be silent and dramatic. Everyone can recognize the jagged scar over his neck, they can recognize it from corpses the Bats have gotten their talons on. Honestly he's delighted in being able to be Cass' enforcer of sorts and just have a good fight. Even if he complains about how making his Malone mute makes it where he can't quote Shakespeare like he wants to.

Steph = “Mia” Malone Ah yes, the explosive Malone. The one who has more arson charges than Firefly. Or at least she would if she was caught, but the entire Underbelly knows it was her. Steph is living her best life being able to pull all sorts of pranks and crazy shit and takes several ideas from Harley. Honestly she probably smells like gasoline or smoke all the time, and definitely put glitter in her hair. Maybe even has red hair as a Malone as well.

Tim = Alvin “Al” Malone He still goes by Alvin Draper too, which results in half the underbelly thinking that Draper is his middle name. Honestly he's having the best time, everyone knows to come to him for forgeries and less than legal identities, which he loves to create. I mean just look at how many new identities he creates for himself alone. He enjoys this type of thing, and hey, it's so easy to keep track of whose identity is fake when you're the one who made them. Plus it also lets him do good for those on the run for good reasons, a way to make sure people are safe.

Duke = Dennis “Denny” Malone Everyone knows Denny was adopted, but y'know what, I bet they don't care. And you know Duke is utterly insane, like jump off a bridge to escape the cops and create the We are Robin gang insane. And he gets to play that up as Denny. He will put forth the most batshit ideas and actually pull them off. I bet he uses his future-sight to cheat at different games and pool tables and all sorts of things, but no one can ever prove it. Because there is no proof, and the other people playing just has to deal with it.

Damian = “Mini M” Malone The little baby of the family, who everyone knows the older Malones absolutely dote over. This is his chance to act like an actual child, just with a hint of art theft. Hey, it wasn't like they got it legally either, so it's free game, especially if they weren't taking proper care of the art or a pet. He's just pleased to get to have even more pets, and that Goliath his demon dragon-bat gets to go on walkies.

Jarro = Jadan “Lil J” Malone Now Jarro is delighted to have a third mech, and is even more delighted for people to believe Damian (or technically M jr) and him are twins. Gives off someone is going to die- of fun with Mini M, and honestly enjoys being able to use his natural telepathy to be a small horror movie child that knows too much. Like will stare up at someone with wide eyes covered in blood and the others in Gotham's underbelly still aren't sure if the blood was his or someone elses. (it was neither)

================================================

Honestly I might write a oneshot or something for the Cryptid Batfam focusing on just them as the Malones family.

[ghostlyfleur]

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

eddie munson x new girl

contents: new girl referred to as angel, lovesick!eddie, strangers to friends to lovers, hellfire club, dustin henderson cameo, mutual pining, inexperienced!reader, shy!reader, maybe fairy!reader but i’m not sure yet.

word count: ~1k

summary: eddie lets his love consume him, and he’s okay with it.

eddie munson is down bad. in love. completely enamored. shot by cupid. and she’s beautiful. the fairest maiden in all the land.

she’s all flowery dresses, flowy skirts, cozy sweaters, butterfly clips in her hair, fairy wing eyeliner design and shimmery glitter on her eyelids, sparkly pink lipgloss, highlighter on her cheekbones— the prettiest angel he’s ever seen. absolutely ethereal. the thing is, she’s terribly clueless. oblivious, even. her and eddie have built a lovely friendship over the last few months, ever since he met her when he picked dustin up from the library. that’s when it happened. that’s when he got hit. an arrow straight through his heart.

his angel — because she must be an angel, with the way the sun followed her around and made her shimmer — was aiding dustin with his search, trying to find books on supernatural lore that he could take inspiration from for the campaign he was putting together. it was dustin’s first campaign in his hellfire club career, and he was taking it very seriously to eddie’s amazement and amusement. but whatever thoughts about dungeons and dragons that were swirling around his head cleared completely at the sight of her; in her white sandals, knee-length white silky skirt, and alice in wonderland graphic tank top she was a sight to behold. a mirage. a dream. sunny disposition, bright smile, fidgety hands, and the most enchanting voice— a siren call, really. and eddie was hooked. it didn’t help that dustin talked his ear off about the nice girl that was quick to provide him with an immense list of folklore and magic lore books that could help him, about fairytales and whimsical creatures.

“she talked about fairies as if she were one, dude, it was sick!” dustin gushed.

eddie noticed the kid kept going back to the same library, kept entering his van afterwards with a list of books and another cute tale revolving around the pretty angel girl of eddie’s dreams. until one day dustin looked all nervous and coy and a little scared, and yeah, usually eddie loved to invoke that same reaction from him, but this time he didn’t know the reason behind it, behind the kid’s hesitant gaze. and truly it couldn’t have been a better reason. dustin wanted the mystery angel to be able to attend hellfire, to watch his campaign.

“‘s the least i can do, man! she helped me with a lot of it and she was like- super interested in my shirt and stuff, please?” eddie’s quick reply, the resounding ‘yes’ he couldn’t hold back, caught dustin by surprise but he didn’t question it. don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that, right?

angel showed up in a long skirt with a flower pattern, converse shoes, and a black queen shirt tucked in. braided hair, lipgloss, and a tupperware box filled with chocolate chip cookies for the whole club.

“my thanks for letting me crash your campaign.”

eddie was hooked. once the session was done and the boys were gone, thanking her profusely for the treats after they picked her brain for cryptid lore, she stayed behind to help eddie tidy up, and they talked about music. she was shy, incredibly so, soft spoken and giggly and socially awkward, but she laughed at eddie’s jokes and playfully teased him once or twice, and complimented his bats tattoo, so eddie offered her a ride home. she gracefully declined, claiming she drove herself, so he walked her to her car instead.

plans were made so that she attended each of dustin’s campaign sessions and through those sessions, the clean up afterwards, the talks about music and bands and movies, their time together evolved to going for milkshake afterwards, a coffee shop for some hot chocolate sometimes, and a friendship blossomed. a very strong one at that.

being alone, living alone, existing alone was kind of her thing— she preferred to be by herself, to indulge in her hobbies on her own, because she was anxious. extremely anxious. but apparently not at all reserved about it or ashamed of talking about it, which was proven by the fact that she casually let it slip pass her lips that she had an anxiety disorder the very first time she was alone with eddie after hellfire.

not a single sign of shame or guilt in admitting it, and eddie admired that.

admired that she was a loner even though she was so polite and kind, ready to send anyone she walked past a smile because she knew how much it mattered to those who needed a little kindness. a quiet soul but couldn’t shut up if you cared enough to figure out her interests, she laughed at everything, giggled without reason sometimes, talked to herself a lot, was often lost in daydreams, had a dark sense of humor surprisingly. complex but friendly. eddie couldn’t get enough, always wanting to find out more about her, to talk to her more, to understand her more.

but most importantly, in her opinion, eddie allowed her to be herself without any judgment. encouraged her even. and that was priceless. so yes, a strong friendship bloomed, but neither one of them wanted to stop at just that. the dark haired boy was quickly aware of his growing feelings, his attraction, his infatuation that turned to love, while his angel didn’t clock in on her emotions quite so fast, being entirely inexperienced and lacking any previous romantic validation. her anxiety and introverted tendencies played a part in that too, probably.

but that’s alright, eddie is more than okay with waiting for her to catch up.

♡

── harmo’s footnotes:

i love thinking about our sweet eddie falling for a soft girl. he deserves a cozy, comfy, cute love story! please remember to show your support by reblogging!

masterlist. eddie dreams.

ghostlyfleur © — all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, or translate.

[willyoubemycherryy]

Order➬𝑭𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒎𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒛

“Well look at you…”

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏

.

.

☘︎︎.

It would be so cute when it was done. You just had to trust the process.

Sitting in the middle of Joe’s room covered in all kinds of glitter, patches, thread, and other crafty things. You were adding designs to a jacket you recently bought for him because you thought he’d look so good in it….after you gave it some razzle dazzle.

Now in your defense, it wasn’t gonna take long. It wasn’t supposed to. It was just sewing some cute patches on a cute jacket that you got your more than cute boyfriend. But…you’d never been particularly good at sewing or minding the time, so there’s that.

You can only imagine how you look as the door suddenly opens and Joe walks in, freezing as he looks at you. There’s a mess of supplies all around you and you…

You’re so cute, sitting on your knees in patterned stockings wearing one of those mini skirts you love so much, lovely hair pinned up away from your pretty face as your glossy lips move into a pout as you bat your lashes at him, shooing him with a manicured hand and he’s never been more smitten.

“Ugh! Joeee!! Now it won’t be a surprise! Go! Shoo! Off with you!” You yell, trying to be stern even as your cheeks heat under his love struck gaze.

“Well look at you…”

The soft tone of his low voice makes your heart skip a beat as you look down at your unfinished project. You like him too much to even stay frustrated with him.

“It’s for you…but it’s not done yet so you have to wait even though you wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t back so early”, you catch yourself rambling because he’s closer, kneeling down in front of you as he smiles, still looking at you like you were cloud 9 personified.

Honestly, to him, it doesn’t matter that you’re not finished because the fact that you were thinking of him enough to do something for him means more than you’ll ever know. You’re so sweet on him that it makes him melt as he bends down to kiss you tenderly.

“Thank you, you’re a doll. I love it, really.” You flush entirely, down to your toes as you giggle, soaking up his affection.

“Practice ended early so that’s why I’m back early and I’m glad I am. You look even prettier today”, he’s going to give you heart failure if he keeps sweet talking you like this, you whine.

“You’re trouble today and while I very much enjoy it, it’s also distracting so…” Joe laughs because usually it’s you flustering him, not the other way around.

“Are you kicking me out my room, doll?”

Suppressing a smile, you nod.

“Unfortunately, but not for long. You’ll just have to go play or something in the meantime.” The way he quirks his eyebrow as a slow smirk grows on his face makes you rush to correct yourself.

“Not like that!” He bursts into more laughter and you pull him into a kiss to shut him up.

You separate and he puts a hand up in surrender.

“Alright, I’m gone. Be back in 40?” You nod and he gets up to go.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” The immediate shade of red on the tips on his ears has you struggling to compose yourself as you laugh, the door swinging shut behind him as his heart beats faster.

Already looking forward to 40 minutes from now.

(Y’all listen to birds of a feather I’m in love)

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 5

And here we arrive at the second post today. I'm just trying to move through my backlog so that I'm down to my preferred three ahead. Glitters is at the rut, so only a chapter or two left to write, so that's almost done. Soulmates is to filling the gaps in the "In Media Res" scene and is nearing its end, too. Which means with any luck, I'll be down to just three WIP at the end of the month: Moonlight, Boy w/a Bat, and this one.

In this chapter, we have Eddie being a menace and giving Steve and Robin the fright of their lives. And because my Steddie never take anything slow, they kiss about it.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The last spot on The Fallen’s American tour was Pasadena just to flip Dustin’s shit now that he was in Hawkin’s, Eddie was sure.

Eddie bought nose bleed seats because he didn’t want to throw Steve off of his playing. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass him and take the spotlight off their music.

He tucked his signature locks under a hat, removed his face piercings, and made sure all his tattoos were covered. He wore an Abbadon hoodie over his regular clothes and got into place in his seat.

He watched the whole show with great enthusiasm, banging along to his favorite songs.

Eddie was most of the way through the show when the twelve year old boy next to him clocked him for who he really is.

He put his finger up to his lips and winked. The boy nodded solemnly and he turned back to spectacle in front of them, like he hadn’t seen the frontman for the biggest metal band in the world sitting in the nose bleed seats for The Fallen.

Eddie lucked out on that one. Boys that age were of two schools of thought regarding secrets, either everyone knew or no one did. He stumbled on the latter.

Thank god!

He really didn’t want this to blow up on him before he got a chance to surprise Steve.

The concert was even more amazing than the one in Indy and Eddie’s skin was just thrumming with excitement as he paid off a member of stadium staff to send the flowers to the dressing room.

They let him wait in the wings without telling anyone who he was. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for Steve to get his flowers. But he wasn’t bored. He watched the roadies and techs scramble about breaking down the set pieces.

He saw two of them carrying Astraeus’s wings and they were even cooler close up. He could that they weren’t just glittery blue, but actual galaxies and constellations.

He was about to ask if he could touch them when a woman in a stylish, black pant suit and sunglasses came storming over to him in a panic.

“Eddie Munson?” she hissed. “Come with me, now!”

Eddie grinned. “Right with you, darlin’.”

He followed her all the way to the dressing room, hands in his back pockets and a skip in his step.

****

Steve was tired. Fuck he was so tired. He scrubbed his face trying to get the sweat off.

The dressing room was heavily guarded so that he could get out his getup to shower and get the patina of being on stage off of his skin.

He would get back into Abbadon before he walked out, but he just needed to be him for a moment.

He stepped out of the shower and looked around at the gifts from fans. The management had put in the ones they thought he would want to see the most.

In the pile was the most striking blue roses he had ever seen. They were almost a midnight blue. His favorite color and his favorite flower. He walked over to them slowly as he dried himself off with the towel.

There was a simple note.

“I know your secret, sweetheart.

But don’t worry, it’s safe with me.”

Steve’s hand shook as he read the note over and over again. He made a dive for his phone, towel forgotten on the floor.

He sent off a quick text to Robin.

-Find Eddie Munson, now!

He got a message back with just one word.

-How!

He replied.

-He’s here

Steve dressed and then sat down on the sofa, settling in to wait. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and he put the mask up to his face while the door was open, intending to lower it again. But seeing Eddie standing there with a feral grin on his face.

He wavered, unsure.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his grin never leaving his face. “Did you like the flowers?”

The woman looked back and forth between them in confusion. “What’s going on?”

Eddie turned to her. “You see, Robin, I figured out that Stevie here is the lead singer of an up and coming metal band. And that you two have been keeping secrets.”

Steve dropped the mask in shock, revealing his face. “How?”

Robin took off her sunglasses. “Who told? Who the fuck do I have to sue?”

Eddie smirked. “No one.”

“You’re trying to tell me,” she said with a scoff, “that Mr Double Super Senior figured out something that had been so closely guarded for the last couple of years?”

“Yup!”

Steve stood up and threw the mask on the sofa. He walked carefully over to the man he closely regarded as his best friend, the high heels of his costume clicking on the wood floor.

“How’d you do it, Eds?” he whispered when he got close enough. “How did you figure it out before the press, before our friends who are literal geniuses, before my own fucking parents?”

Eddie lifted up Steve’s jaw up with his fingers and then tapped on the two moles on the side of his neck. The ones Eddie always thought of as love bites.

“My moles?” Steve asked, unsure.

“I noticed them when I went to the concert with Dustin in Indy,” Eddie said softly. “That’s how I knew it was you.”

“Have you got some obsession with moles or something?” Robin sneered.

He shook his head. “Just Stevie.”

Steve gasped. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Robin repeated. “I’m still going to have to make you sign an NDA. I’m sorry. I know you won’t tell, but I have to be sure.”

Eddie nodded. “Send it to my lawyers.”

She nodded and slipped out of the door, barely opening it wide enough for her to exit. She put the glasses back on and decided she needed a drink. A big one. Maybe three.

****

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “I know how exhausting shows can be and you did it in high heels.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle but did as he was told.

“I never thought that someone would figure it out,” he said shakily. “I’m so scared right now.”

Eddie wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “Oh, Stevie. I didn’t think it would frighten you, otherwise I would have just kept my mouth shut.”

Steve looked him in the eyes. “I’m not frightened of you or that you would tell. It’s just that old adage of if you want to keep a secret between two people–”

“You kill one,” Eddie finished grimly. “I know, baby.”

After a few months of silence Steve whispered, “So you’re obsessed with me?”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Yeah. Have been for years.”

“How long?” Steve asked biting his lip and playing with the sleeve of his hooded coat. He looked away not sure he really wanted the answer. Was this new, because he was in a metal band? Was it recent, with Steve not being as readily available as he was before?

“Since high school.”

Steve’s head snapped up and he looked at up at him in awe. “Holy shit, Eds, that’s forever.”

A soft, fond smile spread out over Eddie’s face, his dimples deepening to sharp lines on his cheeks.

It was Steve’s favorite smile of his. And one he was learning might just be for him and him alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie breathed, “I know.”

They were so close, their breath mingled together, their noses brushed and Steve’s eyelashes fanned out, almost touching Eddie’s cheek.

Steve let out a gasp and Eddie closed the distance. Their lips met and Steve would swear for years to come that there were god damned fireworks. There had to be. Nothing and no one had ever felt like this. It was warm and soft and hot and sexy and bright and dark all at once. Every nerve ending lit up where just their lips touched.

And then Eddie cupped the back of his head and whatever thoughts that were in Steve’s head flew out the window. Every fear, every anxiety, every doubt went running for the hills. All he needed in this very moment was Eddie.

Until the end of time.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed when he finally managed to pull away.

Steve could only agree. “Um...can you meet me at my hotel?”

Eddie licked his lips. He wanted to take Stevie apart right then right there. But it would put Steve in danger of being discovered.

And that could not happen.

Now that he knew Steve’s secret, now that Steve was letting him in. Like all the way in, he would do anything to protect him.

“Yeah, baby,” he agreed. “I’ll meet you there. Message Celeste,” he winked, “and let her know to sneak me in.”

Steve relaxed that final increment. He kissed him fiercely. “Thanks for understanding, Eds. I love you so much.”

Eddie blushed, shoving a strand of hair into his mouth to hide his face. “Ah, sweetheart. There’s nothing to thank me for. I’d burn the world down for you if you asked.”

Steve kissed him again. “I think it’s best if I go out first and then message you when the coast is clear.”

Eddie nodded.

He was still in disguise. Only four people knew who he was. The kid, Robin and Steve, and the dude he paid to get the flowers in Steve’s dressing room.

Which Eddie would send his own team of lawyers to make sure the man didn’t so much as breathe the wrong direction.

He would then, of course meet with “Celeste” and “Abbadon” to construct the perfect cover story for Steve being on the tour with Corroded Coffin. Provided Steve said yes.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie emerged from the dressing room to see only a couple of roadies still milling around.

He blinked at one of them for a moment, but then the guy disappeared around a corner and he couldn’t be sure.

He would swear later it looked like Simon Olsen. Steve’s friend. But that couldn’t be right? Couldn’t it?

He shook himself off. He had a hotel to get to and paparazzi to dodge.

Eddie slipped into his old middle school persona. The one from before he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. The one where he could shrink in on himself.

Become... not invisible, per se. Not important enough to be worth a look at.

He removed the hoodie and handed it to fan lingering outside. He roughed up his hair, untied the shoelaces on his boots, rubbed dirt on his knees and hands.

Once his new disguise was in place, he shambled down the street and people moved right through him as if he wasn’t there.

Eddie had to fight down a grin. People were eaten up with curiosity on how he could avoid getting papped no matter where he went. And this right here was his secret. Appear homeless and no one would give a damn.

He got into position and texted ‘Celeste’ he had arrived. He took the time to smooth out his hair and stretch out his spine. Walking hunched over like that hurt as he kicked and screamed into his late twenties. Something he never thought he would reach.

He texted Jeff to let him know he wouldn’t be back to night and settled in to wait.

Soon enough he was led up through the back way and then into Steve’s hotel room.

As soon as the door closed, Steve was on him.

“Are you okay? Did anyone see you?” And then, “Why are you so dirty?”

Eddie burst out laughing. “Just a little thing I learned from dear ole dad about walking about unseen. So just let me clean up a bit and I’m all yours.”

Steve bit his lip and nodded nervously.

Eddie chuckled. “Unless you wanted to join me in the shower?” he said over his shoulder.

Steve perked right up and followed Eddie into the en suite bathroom, kicking the door closed with a grin.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot

[wing-ed-thing]

... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part I

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Name-Calling, Hitting, Reader Fell First, Yonji Falls Harder

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Notes: Welcome to my current hyperfixation. I guarantee you one hell of a roller coaster. Brace yourselves.

Ichiji had never seen anything like it. 

He had gone into Yonji’s room to talk about something, and from the sight of his brother’s moving lips, it was evident that his question was definitely being answered— by a long monologue, no less. But Ichiji couldn’t hear a word, not when you were zipping around the room, thoughtfully, pathetically doting on his brother as if he were a god. 

None of this would have been out of the ordinary for Ichiji if your position had been that of royal attendant. A butler, a valet, or even one of the maids would have been more appropriate when it came to fussing over his brother so early in the morning, and even if it had been an entire swarm of regular servants, Ichiji wouldn’t have batted an eye. But now that he considered it, Ichiji hadn’t seen a single valet in Yonji’s entire wing. 

In fact, it appeared as though Yonji dismissed all his personal aids in exchange for the company of the royal library attendant. 

The library attendant.

Despite being so far from your typical work environment, you seemed less than bothered by the fact that you had assumed an entirely different job than what you were originally hired for. Rather, Ichiji thought you appeared fairly eager to place yourself at Yonji’s disposal. He could practically see glitter in your eyes, and while he wasn’t exactly surprised— in fact, he was a bit disgusted by the fact that a lowly book roach had the nerve to even think about looking at a member of the royal family in such a way— Ichiji couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed something. 

The library had to have been halfway across the castle, not to mention that Ichiji wasn’t even sure if the library snail was currently docked to either Yonji’s or his own fleet in the first place. 

Yonji’s curly eyebrows creased as he gestured toward himself, continuing to talk— Ichiji still didn’t know what about. Yonji flexed the bare muscles on his bulky arms proudly. 

You held up two nearly identical shirts on two hangers to Yonji’s left, one a bit higher than the other. 

The only real difference between the two was the buttons. The one in your right hand sported large, clear buttons, while the one you held slightly higher had smaller, opaque buttons. Yonji barely spared you a moment of his attention, his eyes flickering to the white shirt with the opaque buttons. His glance communicated enough, and you swiftly placed the rejected shirt back into his ornate, hand-carved wardrobe. 

The two of you had done this routine before. 

Yonji made the shallowest efforts as you swooped in behind him, carefully pulling the fabric over his arms until it draped lightly over his shoulders and chest. He placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, completely ignoring you as you maneuvered in front of him to begin buttoning his shirt. Yonji spoke over your head as you tucked it into his waistband. 

“Hey!” Yonji’s aggravated growl snapped Ichiji from his trance. Yonji had you by the sleeve, just about tearing your uniform off your shoulder as his nose contorted in a deep snarl. “Where the hell did you put my raid suit?”

“It’s right here, Prince Yonji!” You held up the canister like a precious treasure, eyes glinting at the number marked prominently on the side. Ichiji couldn’t recall ever seeing someone so enthralled by servants' work.

Yonji scoffed, heaving you forward by the corner of your uniform before pushing you back with double the force. He roughly snatched the canister from your hands before he turned to make his way toward the doors. 

“C’mon,” Yonji knocked a hand against Ichiji’s shoulder. “Let’s take a look at that new tech you were tellin’ me about.” 

“Right.” Ichiji nodded, the slightest bit heated that he had been made to forget why he’d visited his brother in the first place. He stood from the plush couch in the middle of the room to follow Yonji. 

“Goodbye, Your Majesties! It has been an honor to serve you today.” Neither brother turned back as you bowed at the waist. The heavy doors closed behind the two, leaving you alone to tend to your chores.

Ichiji considered the closed entrance for a beat before joining Yonji, who strutted down the plush carpet of the hall with an elevated cockiness. Ichiji gave him a once over, studying him with acute curiosity before averting his attention to the view of the sea outside the passing windows. 

“Does the library attendant dress you every morning?” he asked. Yonji let out an obnoxious, bellowing laugh.

“Yeah! And the best part is I didn’t even have to ask!” Yonji cackled in his usual boyish rasp. He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning forward slightly to narrow his eyes mischievously at Ichiji. “What? You like my new personal attendant?” 

Yonji laughed again as the two stepped into a winding stairwell. The sound resounded upward, bouncing off the stone walls. He squared his shoulders back, a wide, self-satisfied smirk plastered to his lips. Ichiji hummed, trying to decide how invested he was. 

“Retaining a valet or two like Niji and me would be more logical. Perhaps a few chambermaids instead of some creepy roach,” Ichiji frowned. “Your taste in toys has always been… unique.”

“What can I say? I can never get sick of that stupid, wide-eyed face!” Yonji snickered behind closed teeth, tugging absentmindedly on the loose collar of his shirt. Neither he nor Ichiji spared a second glance at the soldiers who greeted them as they made their way across the courtyard. “I could kick it and still get an offer to shine my boots. A proper servant should consider it a privilege to serve.” 

Yonji continued to hiss, and Ichiji hummed again. He had grown tired of the subject, but Ichiji couldn’t help but consider that there was something about your dynamic that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

“All this excitement over a little attention from a servant,” Ichiji muttered. 

Yonji’s self-assured smirk wavered as his pace slowed. He fell just short of Ichiji, who continued ahead. Yonji’s brows wrinkled in disgust, and his lips quickly contorted into a disdainful scowl. He huffed, turning his nose to the side, before widening his strikes to catch up with his older brother.

“I’m being treated the way royalty outta,” Yonji spat. He hardly noticed how the doors to their destination opened in their presence. “What does it matter if I get a laugh out of breaking this one, too?” 

Ichiji didn’t humor him with a response. The two brothers disappeared into the building, both finally tired from talking about you.

***

“Oh my god!” a cleaning woman gasped, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth as she gaped in horror at the sight just outside the window. A crowd of other house servants gathered around her, all careening to look down at the training grounds below. They muttered to themselves in panicked horror, causing more staff to drift from the hall and into the storage room to catch a glimpse of what was happening on the ground below. 

On one side of the yard stood all three Vinsmoke brothers, each donning their respective raid suits as they talked amongst each other. However, the Vinsmoke princes were the last thing the hoard of staff pressed up against the four medium-sized windows appeared concerned with. 

You stood directly in the middle of the opposite end of the training ground. Three large books were stacked on top of your head, and a basket of crisp, green apples was in your hands. You wabbled, teetering slightly as you tried to balance the books. Perhaps you could have if there were fewer of them or maybe if the princes hadn’t chosen an encyclopedia each. 

All the upstairs staff could do was watch as Yonji sauntered over to you and plucked an apple from your basket. He placed it on top of the stack of books, tongue poking out from his lips as he rotated the fruit on top of the book cover until the orientation was to his liking. 

“Don’t you dare move a muscle,” Yonji sniggered. As if he were studying a piece of art, he peered at you tauntingly with one eye closed through a box shape he made with his fingers. He chuckled again, pivoting to retreat to the other side of the training ground. Ichiji and Niji were already waiting for him, sinister smirks contorting their faces to reveal sharp incisors. 

“Oh my god, I can’t look! I can’t watch someone’s head get blown off!” one of the upstairs maids turned from the window to push through the hoard of gathered servants. Her spot was quickly filled in. 

“I wonder what brought on such a brutal punishment,” a laundryman remarked to a pantrygirl. The gathering of servants shifted around to accommodate the new bodies that gathered. “Does anyone know what happened?” 

Cosette had just appeared at the end of the hall as the group's muttering grew louder. Unlike many other servants who gathered around the windows, Cosette had actual work to do in the kitchen storage closet. Still, it hardly took a moment of her standing in the doorway to realize something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?” she asked a scullion, a wave of dread washing over her like a bucket of cold water.

“The princes have someone down there that they’re using for target practice,” he answered, gesturing to the top of his head. The scullion ushered her forward, allowing Cosette to slide in at the edge of the very last window. She squinted at the sight below before gasping in horror at the sight of it all.

The books, the apple on top, and the giant basket of more shiny green apples that you gripped in your hands. 

And on the other side of the yard, Yonji was winding up.

“Who is that?” Cosette gasped in mortification. Your form looked more than familiar, but Cosette couldn't see your face from the angle she was looking. In a moment of realization, her eyes widened. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Someone said it was the library attendant,” another servant answered, and Cosette ran into the same question that every other servant in the room considered upon hearing that information. 

What business did the princes have with the library attendant?

Tormenting the staff, especially over the slightest perceived infractions, wasn’t out of the realm of possibility when it came to the Vinsmokes. However, given that your post was strictly the library, and nowhere else, none of the gathered staff could fathom a scenario in which the custodian of the library would even have to make contact with any of the princes—let alone all three. None of them ever held any interest in books, after all.

 Other than Judge, the other Vinsmokes assumed interests that they deemed more valuable than Germa’s extensive archive. Not to mention that all scientific notes and heavily referenced texts on technical information were kept in their own room near the central laboratory. On rare occasions when a member of the royal family wanted to seek knowledge that would enhance their combat abilities, they would have a servant deliver a text, no matter where it was stored.

The books you maintained comprised a vast collection of lesser-used texts. From general encyclopedias to old records and files to more niche topics, most of your domain was compiled during the days that Judge was strictly a man of science and included the extensive accumulation of the late queen. It was primarily due to record-keeping reasons— and perhaps sentimentality— that the Germa Kingdom kept a library attendant at all.

If your head were about to roll with those chances, the rest of the staff would have no hope.

“You better hold still!” Yonji warned. The motor in his gauntlet whirred to life. 

You stared straight ahead with your back erect and your muscles as halted as your untrained body could muster. Your teetering from before had subsided, and while you continued to shake slightly from effort, Yonji couldn’t help but consider that you didn’t look nearly terrified enough. And as you stared directly into his dark irises with your stupidly eager gaze, Yonji decided that he’d give you something to be afraid of for once. 

His winch whipped out of his forearm, the metal wire extending many times the length of his own body as he swung his weapon clockwise in a swiping motion. It barreled towards your head at lightning speed. The horrified screams from the gathered servants above were drowned out by the thundering boom that exploded as Yonji’s winch crashed into the castle wall to your far left.

And for just a moment, before the windows in front of the servants broke and the castle violently trembled, Yonji's winch swiped away the second book on your head. The green apple and the book it sat on fell neatly onto the text directly on your hair before you were blasted into the dirt. 

You tumbled across the training ground as the castle wall dented, the accouterments on your head leaving a trail to mark where you stood. The basket of apples had tumbled to the ground, causing the fruits to roll across the field. The three princes bellowed with laughter as Yonji recalled his weapon. 

“I told ya that you better hold still!” he sneered.

The dust cleared, revealing your overpowered body in the dirt. You lay motionless.

“I think your new toy’s broken!” Niji howled. 

Yonji’s brow creased in disapproval, taking in the sight of pages and apples strewn across the yard. He glanced around wildly, an undetectable hesitancy stalling him where he stood.

“Hey!” He stormed forward, jaw clenched as he kicked a few fruits across the lawn. “Hey! What the hell did I tell you? You better get your ass up!”

You propped yourself up weakly, barely mustering the strength. Yonji’s eyes bored into the back of your head as you tried to pick yourself up. His impatience trumped your efforts as he wasted no time in grabbing you and hauling you to your feet roughly. He shook you with barely restrained rage.

“You got the nerve to disobey me, huh?” Yonji jerked you violently, his grip around your bicep punishing. 

Your head snapped back, and only then did Yonji notice the water pooling in your eyes. The glossiness clouding your pretty irises was enough to redirect his rage into a wide, toothy grin. Self-satisfied, he let you drop to your knees.

“Prince Yonji!—” you cried out just as he turned to walk away. 

His earlier annoyance had just about melted instantly, and in its place came a righteous sense of power and control. Yonji had allowed you to fawn all over him for long enough now, and now that he had broken you, your novelty had worn off. He sighed to himself, letting his eyes close as you slowly stood somewhere behind him. It was time to find something new to play with.

—“That was awesome!” 

Yonji’s eyes snapped open, and without thinking, he pivoted on his heel to face you. The tears that he saw in your eyes were present, but the look on your face was nowhere near the expression of terror that he anticipated. Instead, you looked up at him with pure admiration and a dumb smile on your lips. The complete subversion of his expectations left him at nothing less than a loss as he couldn’t help but stare while you blabbered on about how amazing you thought he was. 

—“considering the width of the cable, the damage amounted to a force of equal magnitude to your highness’s strike—!” 

Yonji shook his head as if the physical motion would reset his thoughts. His hand came up to his forehead as he cringed into his glove. And with a motion of dismissal, Yonji turned away from you once again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Just pick all this stuff up…” You didn’t need to be told twice. You grabbed your basket, ready to chase all the apples around the training ground. 

Just as you were about to reach for your first one, Niji kicked it into a nearby shrub.

“On your hands and knees. You can collect these with your mouth,” Niji taunted. He toyed with another one under his shoe, and lining it up with the side of his boot, he kicked it up into the air and right into the side of your head. “Fetch, doggie.”

“You better pick ‘em up quickly and get those books back on your head, library roach,” Ichiji gruffed. His red light energy glinted, sparking threateningly around his form. “We’re not done with you yet.”

***

Yonji eventually sent you to the medical ward. Although he immensely enjoyed looking at the nasty scapes and bruises that marred your skin, he considered the dirt and blood unsightly. So, when the Vinsmoke family was to be having dinner, you were given strict instructions to make yourself presentable and bring an extra helping of dessert back to Yonji’s quarters.

By the time you arrived, the kitchen was just beginning to wind down, having already presented the royal family with their courses. Cosette nearly jumped when she spotted you just inside the kitchen’s entrance, sputtering out a few more directions to her staff before making a beeline to you. Despite your refreshed uniform, Cosette’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tech bandages that littered your body. 

“Oh my god, you’re alive! Are you okay?” She ran up to you, placing her hands on your cheeks to inspect your head. (Your face was miraculously devoid of damage.) Having seen most of what you had gone through today, her question was clearly rhetorical: “Are you hurt? What are you doing here?” 

You took Cosette’s hands in your own. With the library always being so far away from the main parts of the castle and Cosette’s promotion to head chef, the two of you hardly saw each other anymore. And after what she had witnessed just a few hours prior, she worried about what had happened during the time and distance you had been apart. 

“Prince Yonji sent me to bring back dessert,” you answered, returning your attention to Cosette’s widened eyes. “Do you happen to have any cake?”

Cosette couldn’t help but recoil, hands hovering hesitantly between you. A cleaning boy passed through the tight space where you and Cosette stood. She pulled you out of the way as dirty water from a dish splashed the floor. 

She opened her mouth to address the servant, but your question blocked out any focus she had on kitchen affairs. Cosette blinked a few times as if your words would make sense. Your name crawled from her lips in confusion and concern. 

“What happened to the library?” she opted to ask. The crease in her forehead deepened with distress. She ran a hand down her face to center herself, but a bulky chef carrying the compost bag began to shimmy past the two of you. You pulled her out of the way, and both of you pressed yourselves flat against the wall as the chef passed. Cosette grumbled to herself, rolling her eyes. “Save that thought!” 

She determinedly nodded, pulling you through the kitchen and into the pantry. Cosette tugged the light on before closing the door behind the two of you. Your name left her mouth again in a frantic hiss.

“What is going on? Everyone was saying you were being punished for something. Everyone was watching because Madame Thénardier spied you from the third-story storage closet, and everyone thought you were about to die—!” She waved her hands frantically, pacing herself in a circle. —“And I told everyone to leave once I learned it was you—” Cosette curtly gestured in the air. —“But then Master Yonji hit the castle, and the glass was everywhere—!” You moved in front of her before she could hit her head on a bundle of carrots.

“Cosette,” you stressed, and she stopped for a moment. But only for a moment. You grasped her gently by the shoulders. “I am more than alright. I still work at the library.” You offered her a single, soft nod, but her shoulders remained tense under your grasp. “But Prince Yonji needs me sometimes, that’s all.” 

You glanced off sheepishly at a bag of potatoes. 

“He needs you…” Cosette glanced you up and down. You nodded adamantly. 

Cosette heaved a heavy sigh, drifting away from what you intended as a reassuring touch. She sat herself on a barrel of flour, both arms wrapped around the knees she pulled up to her chest. She puffed out her cheeks, not entirely eager to listen as her back slouched. 

“I don’t doubt that, but…” She nodded a few times in punctuation.

The door to the pantry opened. A cook with a pile of boxes quickly turned back around at the frantic wave of Cosette’s hand, letting the door shut again. She met your gaze, tilting her head to the side. 

“I don’t doubt that, but you almost got your head blown off today… I worry about you… I don’t know if you realize how scary today was.” Cosette trailed off, letting her feet fall back to the floor. She thought, zoning out on a random tile past your knees. “Getting so close to a person who doesn’t have a heart… it’s dangerous.”

The pantry went quiet. 

Noise continued outside. Pots clanged together. Water ran from faucets. The kitchen staff called out to each other; their voices muffled through the door. 

You took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Thank you,” you started. “For being so concerned about me. You’ve always been a great friend.”

Cosette didn’t answer you, and silence overtook the pantry once again, and the kitchen noise continued.

She wasn’t convinced about your safety in the slightest.

And with this talk about the Vinsmoke prince needing you, Cosette wasn’t even convinced that your own words convinced you. 

She remained quiet, at a loss for what to say or even think about the whole bizarre situation.

“I think he really likes me.” You smiled at your shoes.

Cosette most definitely didn’t know what to say to that.

Her shoulders deflated. She toyed with the end of her apron as she quietly considered you. You leaned against one of the shelves, admiring a basket of green peas with a quiet giddiness. 

“I think…” she pursed her lips, following your line of sight to the basket. “I think that perhaps his Highness likes the idea of you liking the idea of him liking you.” Cosette squinted her eyes, facing a random direction, as she lowered her hand in a slicing motion on her opposite palm. 

“You think he knows?” Your eyes widened at the prospect. You bolted up from where you were leaning, slamming the top of your head against the shelf above. “Ow!” You covered the sore spot with your hand. And as you were rubbing away the acute pain, you missed the softness that spread over Cosette’s gentle features. 

She quietly rose from her barrel and took your arm in hers. 

“Come now,” she sighed, opening the pantry door. “Let’s get that cake the prince was asking for. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

***

You beat Yonji to his quarters, although it was probably for the best that you didn’t arrive after him.

You shut the doors quietly behind you with your shoe, taking in the eerie stillness of his room. It always felt odd being there without Yonji, and anticipating his presence left you with a nervous, looming feeling—like you weren’t supposed to be there. And, at least according to your job description, you weren’t. 

Most of the room was just how you left it. Yonji’s king bed sat opposite the door, with the headboard positioned in the middle of the wall. The microfiber sheets were neatly made just as you left them, and the pillows remained perfectly fluffed. 

All surfaces were clear and freshly dusted except for the circular table in the corner of the room near the door. Two large sake cups sat empty; condensation from earlier had already stained the wooden finish. You spotted the sake bottle on the floor.

You stepped down into the lowered lounge area to collect it and the cups. The two curved, leather couches were usually riddled with personal items, tools, and technical parts—which you were never to touch—but a space next to the table had been conveniently cleared off. 

You could only assume that the princes had been in Yonji’s room while you were in the medical ward. You wondered if you would be punished for your absence later.

The holo-screen glowed in the corner, and a large, detailed map of Germa’s next assignment was displayed and annotated with green and blue markers. 

You stared at the depiction of the sparsely populated city, placing the bottle with the cups on the table. In your other hand, you held the covered plate with Yonji’s cake. The green marker, a more neon color than the matte blue marker, depicted a series of vectors of the same size in various sections of the city, each ending with an “X” symbol. Meanwhile, the blue markings were dotted lines and small, boxed-in buildings. The trail ended at the coast.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and with it, the cake almost toppled over as you turned to face Yonji. You had expected him to tease you, but he stood silently with his hands in his pockets. His expression was not one you usually saw. Yonji gazed at the holo-map, face grave.

“I can’t say I’m a fan,” Yonji grumbled. His eyes flickered to yours, locking you into an intense stare with a frown. “But you know, now that you’ve seen this—” He pointed a finger at the map, tilting his head to the side.  —“I’m gonna have to kill you.” His face contorted into a wolfish grin.

“Oh, I see.” You glanced back at the annotations, unfazed by how Yonji’s nose scrunched up in amusement. He prowled around the upper level, approaching the two steps down into the lowered corner lounge.

“Mission information is confidential.” Yonji placed his hands in his pockets. He stood directly behind you, the minor elevation allowing him to more than dwarf your form as he quietly blocked your only exit. “For the eyes of Germa 66 only.” 

“The arrows,” the words slipped out of your mouth. “They’re the radius of your winch.” You had most definitely meant it as a question, but the observation came out with more certainly than you anticipated.  

You turned your head for confirmation. Yonji’s chin jutted slightly back in acute surprise, his curly brows knitting together as he sneered. You stared at him silently, waiting for an answer, but Yonji only continued to look at you disapprovingly.

“The arrows are the radius of Your Highness’s weapon,” you corrected (as if that was the issue). 

Yonji’s scowl deepened as he snatched the bottle of sake from the wooden table. Unexpectedly, there was still some left. He flicked off the cap, shook his head a few times, and took a swig.

“Yeah? So?” Yonji circled the upper level, eyeing you closely as you stepped closer to the map. 

There were several levels to the city upon closer inspection. The entire diagram rotated upon your approach, revealing a multi-layered, three-dimensional diagram. The markings followed, remaining proportional despite the new angles. 

“Is this Speleothem?” you wondered aloud. Yonji took another swig of his bottle somewhere behind you.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding distant. You hadn’t noticed. “You been?”

“I’ve only read about it in books.” You reached out to touch the hologram.

The motion sent it into a tizzy, the diagram spinning erratically, causing you to step back. But once the image settled, it revealed an entire blueprint of the island with the green and blue markings still trapped inside.

Speleothem was a nation comprised of a single, large mountain. Uninhabitable on the outside, the people who lived on the island dedicated generations to carving out the dense rock, leaving a vast network of tunnels on the inside and an extremely rocky coast in the surrounding waters. But most critically, at least to Germa, were its five small entrances. 

Two canals passed through the island's base, intercrossing in the middle to split the system into quarters. Just above the water’s intersection, a vertical tunnel had been dug straight through the peak of the mountain to let in natural sunlight. 

You could see the problem. None accommodated the circumference of Yonji’s winch, and the tunnel system was far too narrow to support his typical brute-force attacks without collapsing a massive sector of the island. You wondered why he was concerned with being careful in the first place, too lost in your thoughts to remember where you were.

Yonji swiped the cake platter from your hands. You stiffened as you were rudely snapped from your daze. Yonji laughed at you that time. He turned on his heel, flicking the top off of the container. It clattered to the floor where the sake bottle— now empty— sat once again. 

“The hell are you still doing here?” he chewed. Yonji pushed past you, shoulder-checking you on his way back up the two stairs into the center of the bedroom. The fork that Cosette included already had a second bite of cake on it. 

“I thought you needed to kill me.”

“Not worth my effort,” he announced, mouth still full as he waved a now clean fork behind his head at you. “And I don’t want your corpse making a mess of my room when I have shit to do in the morning.”

Yonji plopped down on a different pair of couches in the middle of the room. The two ornate fixtures boasted intricate designs and velvet seating, both flanking an equally intricate coffee table in the middle, on which Yonji kicked his feet up. The set appeared to be a part of the same collection as his wardrobe, and the craftsmanship was a stark difference from the technologically sleek appearance of the furniture in the lower corner lounge. 

The back of his head faced you as he took an oversized bite of his extra dessert.

You were sure his ignorance of you was your cue to leave. 

You picked the serving lid up off the floor and held it upside down. As quietly as possible, you placed the empty sake bottle and the two cups into it. Yonji didn’t spare you even a glance as you quietly made for the door, unamused by you at the current moment. 

With the apparent raid on Speleothem the next day, he was either very tired or in an extremely good mood. Whatever the case, you knew better than to mess with it. You pressed down the push button at the top of the knob, holding it there as you hesitated.

You should really leave.

You should really leave and take the dishes straight to the kitchen before turning in for the night. 

Ruining Yonji’s fortunate mood and continuing to talk out of term? What a surefire way to get yourself—

“Speleothem uses a water system. That’s how they’re able to keep the tunnels together and carve out more.” Your voice cut through the air. The scraping of Yonji’s fork against his plate died in an instant. You cringed, letting your eyes squeeze closed as you braced yourself. No strike ever came. 

You slowly turned around, hugging your makeshift basket close to your chest. Yonji had an elbow over the back of the couch. His face was nothing less than unreadable as he studied you.

“They have ventilation tunnels that the water gets pumped through, and if those were to be disrupted, I’m sure you—someone—could cause massive structural damage without collapsing the system on something important below.” The words tumbled out of your lips faster than you could stop them, if not for the sheer purpose of filling the uncomfortable silence in the room. 

You could feel his stare boring into you, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze. Out of all the Vinsmoke princes, Yonji wasn’t the strictest when it came to meeting his eye, but it didn’t feel like the appropriate moment to test his generosity. 

He spoke your name, and it sent a shiver through your core. All your better instincts were as on edge as the hairs on your arms, afraid of the powerful man sitting before you. But in a match-up of pure will and power, the fluttering in your chest swiftly outweighed your senses. 

“Yes, Prince Yonji?” You bowed your head. He liked being reminded of his royal status.

There was another beat of silence. 

“Get out.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” 

***

Speleothem was an eyesore. Just a large rock in the ocean surrounded by smaller rocks, Yonji couldn’t say he was particularly pleased about his assignment on an island so dull and fragile. Reiju had, after all, been the one initially assigned to the assassination, but since she had been called for another assignment, Yonji was the one to take her place. 

The entire mission had been too covert for his liking. Unlike his sister, Yonji didn’t have much in his arsenal to cover a large area without compromising the structural integrity of the entire Goddam island. Unfortunately for him, Speleothem needed to be (mostly) intact. 

Yonji couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he fought off another security grunt with a strong uppercut. The sturdy exoskeleton clattered to the side, his compilation of fallen enemies beginning to make a pile around him. A series of high-pitched scraping noises and clicking sounded from just down the tunnel. Yonji ran the back of his gloved hand over his forehead. He despised that he was already working up a sweat, but they just kept coming. 

He ventured down into the main sector to meet the battalion coming his way. Due to the narrow passageways, the footsoldiers practically charged at him in a single file line. Yonji made short work of each one, critically denting their outer armor with each swing of his enhanced fists, but no matter how many times he swung or how many guards fell, more seemed to replace their fallen comrades at a rapid pace. 

The number of troops in front of him didn’t appear to dwindle. By the third round of reinforcements, the dark smirk Yonji typically had during battle had disappeared. He huffed to himself quietly, occasional grunts of effort being the only noise to break the steady rhythm of communication clicks and insect-like scraping. 

When another battalion of guards began to make their way down the tunnel from the opposite end, Yonji was officially annoyed. Even using a fraction of his skills, Yonji could have made short work of the entire section of the island, and he knew it. And if the mission took place at any other location, he could have. Instead, he’d have to play glorified punching bag until Niji gave the signal. 

In the midst of the chaos, Yonji’s eyes flickered up to the tunnel’s ceiling. He had been able to hear the sound of rushing water since the moment he entered.

One of the footsoldiers tackled Yonji from behind, digging his sharp mandibles into Yonji’s shoulder. Yonji moved on instinct, punching up into the ceiling and letting the flood of water wash out the tunnel.

But despite a real lack of excitement, the assignment went off without a hitch. By the end of the morning, Niji and Yonji had safely retreated and were ready to report back to Germa’s central sector, leaving Speleothem flooded and leaderless.

“Smart thinking with the ventilation system! I couldn’t’ve strategized a better distraction!” Niji let out a deep chuckle and smacked Yonji hard in the center of his back. “How the hell did you think that one up?”

Yonji trudged forward, ringing some water out of his orange scarf. While he could fly over the flooding in every other tunnel, Yonji’s raid suit was still wet from the first ventilation duct he broke. 

“Read about it in a book,” Yonji grumbled as he trudged forward. The bite he endured earlier had caused minor damage, breaking the skin just enough for the wound to be irritated by his damp clothes. 

Niji stood behind him, fists on his hips as he let out another hearty laugh.

“You know how to read?”

Yonji hardly heard him, trudging in the direction of his quarters to change into more comfortable clothes.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: He will get better. The soft spot I have for the Germa 66 boys has been absolutely crippling. Alternate names for this fic included "Easy," "Glutton for Punishment," and, of course, "Beauty and the Beast."

Part I Part II

[munsonfamilyband]

Just had the most ooey gooey platonic stobin thought (featuring, as always, steddie)

Just, years after everyone has left Hawkins. The kids all graduated and have gone on to college. Nancy has her degree and is working her way very quickly up the ranks of the paper she works at. Jonathan got a job with Nat Geo somehow (though no one is surprised). Robin is working at some kind of archive, sorting and translating and transcribing and she loves every second of it.

Eddie and Steve live in the apartment right next to hers. At first it was awful, both because she hated having a wall between her and Steve, even with the balconies that they managed to connect somehow, and because their bedroom shared a wall with hers and they were so LOUD. Over time it got easier, her and Steve still were weirdly connected and Eddie woke up with a surprise third person in their bed multiple times a week but he knew she was a bonus when he asked Steve out.

Eddie got a job working as a tattoo artist (he convinced Steve to get one, but he only agreed to any tattoos that had a pair on someone else so he and Robin have matching anchors and ice cream scoops and he and Eddie have a little bat wearing a crown).

Steve struggled his way through school and got a job as an elementary school teacher. He comes home covered in glue and paint and glitter multiple times a week and has complained about ruining so many sweaters but he adores his kids and his job.

The night they get engaged Steve had just come home from the first parent-teacher conferences of the new year and he was barely standing up. He was carrying the italian Eddie had told him he ordered on his way home and when he got inside their apartment he was almost too tired to notice all the lights being off and all of their candles lit.

Almost.

Steve froze and then kept putting his stuff away, calling out for Eddie. He finally found him in their bedroom (that no longer shared a wall with Robin’s), where Eddie was bouncing on his toes and twirling a small box in his hands.

Robin didn’t know what was going on when she heard Steve scream… something, she couldn’t really tell because it almost sounded like he was crying. Her Bestie Alarms immediately went off at the sound of Steve Tears but as she opened her balcony door to go check on him, he was already there. Tears still falling, hand shoved into her face, and the biggest smile she had ever seen him make.

It took less than 5 seconds for her to recognize the new ring on Steve’s hand and then they were both screaming and crying and hugging each other. (They were also ignoring Eddie yelling from their balcony to give his fiance back).

A few months passed and Steve and Eddie had started planning their wedding. Robin was nervous, she was waiting for Steve to ask her to be his maid of honor or something and she wanted to, she did. But she was also terrible at planning big events and she didn’t think she could handle all the pressure of having to plan showers and parties and getting things organized the day of. She wanted to be in Steve’s wedding more than anything, but she did NOT want to be in his wedding party and she was terrified of telling him that.

When Steve and her were at lunch one day and he said he had something to ask, she started panicking. She had barely been listening but she did catch a word she wasn’t expecting.

Officiate.

Steve told her that he wanted her to officiate his wedding. He said that he knew she would have hated being best man (the way he didn’t said maid of honor didn’t make her love him more, it didn’t) because of all the planning but he needed her to be part of his wedding. She was great at giving speeches, rambling included, and he couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have perform his wedding.

They both cried and then got kicked out of the chinese restaurant.

When the time came, Robin stood at the “altar” that the kids had helped make. It was covered in flowers and twinkling lights and it looked beautiful.

That day, being able to be the one to help her best friend get married, was the best day of her life.

[icepoptroll]

@rtcpickyourpoison day 4: Ricky - Karaoke/Drag Night

I've seen a lot of art of Ricky and Noel being the perfect drag queen duo and I'm in total agreement. Their fabulous costume changes and wildly imaginative songs in canon are proof enough for me that these two would absolutely kill it in a drag performance, ignoring the haters and putting on a great show!! Starrypoet is such an awesome but oft-forgotten ship.

I felt like doing something with Ricky's love for who he is, his creative endeavors, and his bright spirit. Noel was also fun to explore here in that he's both very loving and very firey. I imagine that, after reaching adulthood, Ricky would become a comic book writer/illustrator and Noel would work in a drag bar, and they'd both take great interest in each other's work. It's bring your boyfriend to work night at the club!! hehe

Image description under the cut.

Page 1:

Panel 1: Shown is Ricky and Noel's reflections in a lighted mirror. The adjacent wall is made of bricks and there is a garment rack with various dresses hanging on it in the background of their reflection. There is a long, wavy, pink and purple wig hanging on the mirror. Ricky is smiling a bit shyly, wearing a voluminous, long purple wig with bangs. He has on pink cat ears, a sparkly silver necklace, a black leather strap wrapped around his arm and a pink bodysuit with black tiger stripes. His makeup is hot pink and bright purple with purple false lashes, glitter along his cheekbones and black tiger stripes painted on the sides of his face. Noel is wearing a dark bob wig, a sparkly dark purple gown, and four strings of pearls around his neck. He is wearing sparkly purple eyeshadow, glitter on his face and body, and dark red lipstick. He is leaning over and kissing Ricky on the head, saying, "Ugh, Ricky darling, you look absolutely sickening!!" Ricky's narration explains, "I knew that, in the context of a drag culture colloquialism, Noel meant "sickening" as a compliment.

Panel 2: Ricky's narration continues, "But I don't think I was meant to take what this other performer said as a compliment." Noel is in the background walking past, now with long, dark, violet gloves on, as a drag queen in a curled blonde wig, pearl jewelry, a black and white polka dot dress with red frills and red high heels walks by Ricky, who is sitting in his wheelchair, smiling and waving, wearing silvery fingerless gloves of uneven lengths. The drag queen says, "Okay, I'll bite. Who invited the make-a-wish kid?" Ricky goes on to explain, sarcastically, "Oh yeah, she got me. That was so funny that last time I heard it I laughed so hard I almost fell off my dinosaur."

Page 2:

Panel 1: Ricky continues, "She went for the low-hanging fruit. Noel went to bat for me." Noel comes up, pointing to himself. He says, "Uh. That would be ME. Got a fucking problem?"

Panel 2: The other drag queen gestures to Ricky, who looks on, bemused and annoyed. She says, "Monique. Honey. Baby girl. Look at him, I mean, seriously? Do I even have to say it?" The dressing room mirrors are in the background.

Panel 3: Closeup of Noel's face. He looks angry as he says, "Ha! After your shit performance tonight I wouldn't bother saying ANYTHING more about him. Save yourself any further embarrassment." Ricky explains, "I didn't mind the comments all that much."

Panel 4: Noel is getting up in the other queen's face, pointing an accusatory finger up at her as she crosses her arms defensively. He says ". . . Aaaand another thing!!" Ricky continues, "Noel did warn me some of his colleagues could be kind of mean sometimes. And, as he would say, I looked "fierce," and I knew it."

Page 3:

Panel 1: Ricky's narration continues, "And, I guess you could say Noel actually sort of WAS granting me a wish." HE propels away to go do his own thing, looking back with a sense of concern and weird curiosity as the other two argue. Noel says, "I can't even, you're just mad that Ricky is a cute young thing, and underneath your makeup YOU look like the damn crypt keeper!" She replies, "Crypt keeper??? Oh, you little. . . "

Panel 2: Ricky continues to explain, "Noel works as a performer at a drag bar and he told me about lip-syncing being a big part of drag shows. While I am unable to sing, I've always loved lip-syncing to my favorite songs." Noel continues to yell, "This is some shady shit. Even for YOU."

Panel 3: Ricky is surrounded by drag queens against a sparkly hot pink background. His narration continues, "So I told him I would love to try it, and he brought me to work with him, did my makeup, and gave me some tips. We even developed a persona for me: Savannah, with the Fiercest Smize. To 'smize,' I'm told, means to smile with only your eyes. I was so excited, though, I wound up smiling with my whole face." A queen with light skin in a sparkly green dress, big wavy brown wig, and floral accents stands in front of Ricky, a hand laid over her chest. She says, "I LOVE silent acts. So mysterious!" A queen with tan skin and dark hair in a high bun dressed in a sharp gold dress and matching jewelry says "Her hair is EVERYTHING!" as she examines Ricky's wig and looks up at her friend, a tall chubby queen with dark skin and a purple afro, with purple jewelry and a sparkly purple body suit. She smiles and nods approvingly. Ricky goes on, "No one else seemed to mind my being there. In fact, people liked Savannah."

Page 4:

Panel 1: Noel and Ricky hug. Noel says, "No one will EVER dull your shine, love. You're beautiful and you know it. Let's get to work, okay?" Ricky says, "I knew."

Panel 2: Ricky and Noel are performing. Noel is dancing at Ricky's side. Ricky is lip syncing, holding a microphone and leaning back, his other arm spread out. The song he is lip syncing to is True Colors by the Studio Killers:

Show me your true colors

In their blinding brightness

Show me your true colors

Like they glow in the night when you are dreaming

Forget about the others

The unbearable lightness of our being

Even spy satellites won't see this coming

Our love that's hiding in the dark

Reach out and I promise you soon we'll be lovers

'Cause it's our true color

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

More sugarbaby reader! For logan? I love how sweet and caring you write him in that verse while still being gruff, maybe how they met or how she gets along with the other people Logan knows?

When he walked into the jewelry store a bit before closing, all he wanted was a battery put in his watch. What he didn't expect to find was a pretty little thing that smelled so good he had trouble not growling at her.

There were a couple other girls. More than willing to throw themselves at him. He could practically hear them getting ready to bat their eyelashes and coo about this and that... he didn't have the patience for it. And their perfume made his eyes water.

So he waited for you to look up at him. Smiling and sweet. "How can I help you?"

"Just a watch battery, doll," he said, proffering the offending watch by one side of the leather band. "Not sure anymore what kind."

You frown thoughtfully for a moment and nod, "I think we can do that. No worries. It's a nice piece. Well loved." He watches you take it carefully and inhales discreetly. You even smell sweet, and warm. And like something he can't quite name. It makes him want to bury his face in inappropriate places. The thought makes him feel like a dirty old man.

He doesn't bother to stop it though. At his age, every 20 something is too young for him. "I've had it a long time- don't even know how long." Not true. It was older than you. Might even be older than your mom, depending.

No rings. No flashy jewelry. Dressed down but dressed nice. He wondered if you were the kind of girl who liked matching bras and panties...

"My dad had one like it, I think. Gave it to my brother, maybe?" You work easily and make short work of swapping the battery for him. Taking care to reset the time before you hand it back. "Good as new."

"Thanks, Doll," he hummed, taking it from you, "how much do I owe you?"

"$15," you tell him, clacking your way to the register. No upsell. No flirting. You must want to get home. He chuckled to himself. He doesn't smell a man on you, school? After work drinks? You'd all been closing and the others might be green with envy but they hadn't stopped.

He handed you the cash and took a recipt and smiled. He'd be back.

And back he came.

This time, you were wearing red. Red suited you. It brought out different tones in your skin and your eyes and he felt himself salivate.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, leaning casually on the counter.

"Need a new battery already?" you ask, eyes glittering, teasing him a little.

"I need a little help," he said, "shopping for a birthday present."

"Wife, girlfriend?" you ask, looking up at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Eager. Excited.

"Good friend," Logan clarified. Preferably something that would look good on you- not that he could say that. Yet. "Something elegant, but not diamonds."

"Hmm," you think for a second, "Ring, bracelet?"

"Necklace, I think," Logan mused. You had a beautiful neck. And he'd love to bite- he mentally slapped the back of his hand and refocused. "Something she can wear out."

"Does she like silver? Gold?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted.

"Well," you tell him, "I do like a challenge, let's see what I can find for you Mr.-?"

"Logan," he said, offering you his hand, "call me Logan. It's good enough for everyone else."