#thought it’d just be better to wait for the whole announcement

[roaldseth]

Any updates on that there holiday exchange thingamajig?

In the coming hours following this reply.

If you are also on [Twitter]: you can likely expect a brief statement on the subject. It’s just easier to connect the context in a certain manner.

Regardless of Tumblr or [Twitter]: there will be a full announcement Monday, Nov. 6, whether it be sign-ups or cancelation.

Thanks for the ask.

[sp0o0kylights]

 Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You  have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?"  He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but  what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

[ilguna]

Can you do finnick with the number 13 ?

☼ too close pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing,

wc; 2.6k

prompt; 13. fake engagement au

notes; made this a modern au as well. also, too close by alex clare was the first thing that popped in my head... but it’s not a songfic!!

part two.

--

At this point, you think that setting yourself on fire and standing still while the skin melts off your body would be less painful than the conversation you’re having with Finnick, Annie and her boyfriend, Rain. At least then, Finnick might pay attention to you.

In the past fifteen minutes, you don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of her once. He won’t even look in your direction when you speak. It’s like she’s the center of his room, all the time. You thought that when they broke up a year back, he’d change, figure out the world doesn’t revolve around her. 

He can find other things—other people to invest in.

You didn’t realize just how much he loved her, especially when he was so casual about it. He wasn’t compelled to spend every waking moment with her. They’d make plans, of course, but it wasn’t as frequent as it could’ve been. In fact, he spent more of his time with you.

It has something to do with how long the two of you have been friends. Ever since you’ve graduated high school, there’s never been a time where either of you have gone somewhere and the other didn’t follow. If there’s a pair of people on this dying planet that are attached at the hip, it’d be you two.

While you thought Finnick would be hurt when Annie broke up with him, you were under the impression that it wouldn’t bother him much. Not with how sparsely they’d been seeing each other in the weeks leading up to it. It was partially his fault, because he stopped making time with her, but that happened because she’d shoot down every attempt.

And then she did it. Finnick told you that she showed up at his apartment, on an evening where they’d planned to have dinner, wanting to talk. She started by telling Finnick that he was amazing, and the best boyfriend she could’ve asked for, but they didn’t share the same interests, and she needed someone who was more like her.

She wanted to see other people, and she couldn’t find herself committing her life to Finnick, knowing that they weren’t a perfect match. It was harsh, and brave of her. Personally, you think that it was a stupid decision, because they’d been together for over a year and a half. 

She didn’t give Finnick any room to talk, canceled the dinner, and left. 

The next time they saw each other, you were asked to be there as a mediator, per Annie’s request. It was a little odd, because she knows full well that you care more about Finnick than her. Though, over the time of them dating, you’ve grown to be better friends with her.

You felt a little bad for Finnick, but with how long you’ve been rooting for their downfall, it was like your prayers were answers. 

Finnick’s reaction to the whole ordeal took you off-guard. You knew that he’d need recovery time, you just thought that he’d bounce back after a month or so. That’s what he’s done with his girlfriends in the past, you had no reason to believe that this time would be different.

Well, she rocked his world, hard.

And it’s clear that it was selfish of you to think that you could pounce on him. That’s why you were punished about three months later. When Finnick came to you in the middle of the night, sobbing because Annie had announced a new relationship. It tore you to pieces, listening to his feelings, how he thought she didn’t wait long enough.

The next morning, you found him wide awake on your couch, eyes puffy, bags beneath them. You opened your mouth to ask him if he’d even slept, when he told you that he’d come up with a plan, and he needed your help.

He wanted to make Annie jealous enough to leave her new boyfriend, Rain. The issue is that she’d never had a problem with any of his girl friends before. Except you. He said that there had been a few times where she mentioned how she wished she had a better connection with him, like you have.

The more he spoke, the worse it got. And when he asked if you’d be his fiance, you couldn’t help the way you looked at him. It was nothing close to adoration, it was resentment, because you’ve dreamed of him asking you plenty of times before. In those fantasies, you were actually together because he loved you. Not because he couldn’t live without another girl.

You knew he was desperate, he’d mentioned it before. You never thought that he’d ask you to do something like this. You were sure it was a joke, one that you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh at because you were too stunned to move. When he looked at you and you saw the expression on his face, you realized that you’d given him more credit than he deserved. 

Finnick begged you for an hour straight, telling you that he couldn’t trust anyone else to do something like this for him. You’ve been best friends since you were teenagers, you knew that he wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important to him. When you didn’t agree by the time he left, he told you to think about it.

And it ate you up inside. Every last word of his. The look on his face. The years you’ve been waiting for an opportunity. And so, you stupidly thought to yourself, “Well, maybe this is how I get a foot in the door.”

You texted him later on the next day, thinking that this pretend engagement couldn’t possibly last longer than a month. If Annie had a scrap of love left for Finnick, and as much jealousy as he was saying she did, she’d come back. It wouldn’t be immediate, but she’d come and prove that he was still hers, even if they weren’t together.

When Finnick told Annie that he’d gotten engaged to you, after discovering a slumbering love, she had the opposite reaction than what you thought she would. The smile that spread over her face lit up her eyes, she was genuinely happy for the two of you.

You knew from that moment forward, it would be like swallowing poison everyday, because you’d have to lay it on thick in order to convince her. A part of you didn’t believe her happiness. It had been three months and a week since she and Finnick broke up, and you were suddenly engaged to him? With no prior mention of the two of you dating?

If you were her, you think you’d be more worried about him cheating the entire time, because that could explain the quick ring. Finnick thought of that, too, telling her that the two of you have been around each other so long that you skipped the dating stage.

Stupid.

You wanted to do this for him, though. You wanted to still be the person he could trust the most, afraid that he’d pull away if you denied this request.

And so long for sticking your foot in the door, because eight months later, he hasn’t shown an ounce of affection toward you. He’s stuck on Annie, and that’s where he’s going to stay, because she’s not budging, either.

“So, (Y/n), have you decided what season you want to get married in?” Annie asks, she’s got her eyebrows raised, looking at you between the pasta on her face.

You give her a smile, even though you’re growing tired of the questions about the wedding. You have to come up with reasonable answers that you’ll have to write down later to keep from forgetting. She’s caught you a few times. 

“We were thinking about spring.” You tell her, reaching over to place your hand on top of Finnick’s, trying to make it convincing. “Isn’t that right, Finn?”

Finnick turns his attention to you, finally, gazing into your eyes with a dimpled smile. If you didn’t know that this was for show, you’d say that there’s something more between you than just air.

“New love and all.” He murmurs, fixing your hands so he can hold yours to squeeze it.

A flurry of butterflies rise in your stomach, swirling around your heart.

“Spring?” Annie echoes, a little surprised. Despite wanting to stay here forever, you tear your eyes from his to look at her. “I’ve always said that’s the perfect season to have a wedding.”

I know, you want to tell her, because Finnick told me.

“Really?” You ask. “Well, I hope there’s no hard feelings if we use it first?” You ask.

“Of course not.” She waves her hand, “I wouldn’t want to come between the two of you.”

Finnick’s hand loosens around yours, something you were prepared for.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” Rain starts, “Is there any way we could take some of this home? It’s getting late.”

“Of course.” You slip your hand from Finnick’s, rising to your feet. “I have the rest in the kitchen, if you want to come and tell me how much you’d like.”

“That sounds amazing.” He nods, leaning over to press a kiss to Annie’s lips, before getting to his feet, too. 

You glance at Finnick, hoping that he’s looking at you. He’s not, his attention is completely set on Annie. You place a hand on his shoulder while you move around your chair, causing him to reach up to grab your fingers. Almost a natural reaction, if it wasn’t planned. 

You move your hand before he touches you, heading through the dining room doorway and into the kitchen. The stove is on the far side, the pots and pans still sitting on top. Rain follows behind you, you can hear his footsteps on the tile.

“I’m not really one for leftovers, so please take as much as you’d like.” You tell him, opening one of the bottom cabinets to grab a container. You sit it on the counter, as well as the lid.

“What about Finnick?” He asks, you shake your head, closing the door. “He’s got his own food, at his apartment.”

“That’s right.” Rain says, grabbing the noodle scooper, taking off the lid on the pot. “I forget that the two of you aren’t living together yet.”

“It’s because of his lease.” You shrug. “It’s coming to an end soon, though. We’ve agreed he’ll move into my place.”

Rain lets out a laugh. “I would too, honestly. You’ve got such a nice house. Your parents bought it, right?”

“Yup, and gifted it to me when I moved out here. I was supposed to share it with Finnick in college, but he wanted an apartment so it wouldn’t be weird when he brought girls around.” You tilt your head, looking off to the side.

“Now look at you two.” Rain smiles. “You’ll get to share it, after all.”

“Yeah.” You murmur.

Once he’s loaded the container, and promised that he’ll bring it back to you next week, you two join Annie and Finnick back in the dining room. The second you step inside, you can tell that there’s something goin on, but Rain must be oblivious, because goes to take his coat from the back of his chair.

“Well, thank you for the dinner, (Y/n).” Annie says, joining Rain. “I’m excited to see what you’ll cook next week.”

“If you have any requests, let me know.” You wink at her, she rolls her eyes.

Finnick walks them to the door, while you begin to pick up the plates from the table. You can hear the door shut, and that’s when the air begins to get heavy. With them no longer here, there’s no need to keep up the act. Which means that Finnick will go right back to talking about her.

“I think I had her for a moment.” Finnick says, coming in with armfuls of plates and glasses. “When you went into the kitchen, she told me that she missed me. That was a great idea, (Y/n).”

You bite your tongue, back turned to Finnick as you turn on the sink.

“At this rate, I think she’ll leave him soon. She told me that they’re not as happy as they look.” He sets the dishware next to the sink, pulling out the trash can to scrape away the waste. “I’ll get her back in my arms, soon.”

You lean over the sink, closing your eyes while you take deep breaths. An ache is forming in your throat, tears appearing in your eyes. You grit your teeth, trying to tell your body to knock it off, because now’s not the time to cry. You save it for when Finnick leaves.

This isn’t right, it’s not healthy to be doing this to yourself.

“Then we can go back to normal.” Finnick says, bumping you with his shoulder. “I owe you, (Y/n).”

You back off of the sink, reaching for the engagement ring that’s been passed around his family for generations. The one you thought that would one day belong to you. You grab his wrist, turning his hand over, and placing the ring in his palm. He looks down at it for a second, before at you.

“You know I don’t need this back, I trust you to keep it safe.”

“I can’t do this anymore.” You tell him, throat closing in.

His eyebrows twitch. “No, (Y/n), we’re almost there. Just a few more weeks—”

“I don’t have a few more weeks in me, Finnick! It’s killing me!” You burst, throwing a couple plates into the sink. You shut off the water, walking out of the kitchen, shaking your head. “I just—when I agreed to do this, I thought, ‘this won’t be so bad’. I thought this couldn’t last more than a month, yet here we are, still going.”

“I told you it’d take time.” Finnick says, following after you.

You lead him to the front door, stopping next to it, hand on the handle. “I thought my feelings for you would go away if I gave myself a taste of what I could have.” You admit, Finnick’s face drops, skin paling. “It’s fucking ruined me. I can’t do this with you anymore, because you don’t love me. And I want to throw up my heart each time I see you look at her like that.”

You open the front door, shoving it open. A fall breeze blows through, pushing a few golden leaves into your house.

“(Y/n), why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it’s written all over you.” You motion at him. “You love Annie, and there’s nothing that I’ve done in the past eight months that have made you change your mind.” 

Finnick stares at you, shaking his head.

“Go.”

“If I leave right now, you won’t talk to me ever again.” Finnick tells you. “You said that nothing would change between us if you did this for me. You said it wouldn’t ruin our relationship.”

“I lied.” You tell him. “Now, go.”

He sighs through his nose, “I’m going to come back.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll open my door.” You push his shoulder. “I’m serious, leave.”

He doesn’t say anything else, stepping onto your porch. You take a few steps toward the door, reaching out to grab the handle, face beginning to contort, body having enough. Finnick turns around in time to catch the first tear fall, before you slam the door in his face.

You turn the lock, head dropping as the first sob leaves you.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!! also, you didn't specify a list so i went with the mystery list :))

[denalidear]

Sleepy

a/n: oops. forgot i said i was gonna do this whole thing. well here a little fic i wrote a while back and never posted.

summary: wil is so eepy.

word count: 886

warnings: none?

- - -

It had been a long day for him, you knew. Between streaming, working on new music, and how late the two of you had stayed up the night before; he was tired. So when you asked to cuddle and watch a movie, you had put two and two together to start your master plan. You strategically placed yourself underneath him, his head on your collarbone as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Love I’m going to fall asleep if you keep on playing with my hair.” He warned, adjusting so his arms were tucked well around your torso. He yawned and leaned into you more and you smiled.

“What if I told you that was the point?” You teased, trying to contain your laugh as to not disturb the sleepy boy.

“Then I’d tell you you’d better be comfortable because I won’t be moving once I’m asleep.” He mumbled, now pulling the blanket covering you two further up his shoulders.

“Bring it on, buddy.” You said, turning your attention back to the movie while continuing your ministrations in his hair. Soon enough you felt his weight sink into you, his breath coming out in soft puffs over your neck. He had fallen asleep and your plan was a success.

-----

Wil was a sleepy guy. After the first nap he’d had cuddling with you, he requested more and more. It became a regular occurrence for him to seek you out straight after finishing a stream, only to fall asleep in your arms.

But today, he was determined to prove he didn’t need a nap. You’d dragged him all around London, going to shops and cafes. He played along happily for the first four hours, but after dinner came and went his resolve was sarting to wear thin. He happily carried your tote bag that you’d filled with the goodies you’d acrewed, but he was nearly nodding off as you sat at the station waiting for the next train home.

“Wil.” You tapped his knee, “The announcer said it’d be pulling up soon.”

“Ok.” He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into your shoulder. Soon the train pulled up and you boarded. Wil fought to stay awake as he sunk into the plush of the seat.

“Baby you can sleep on my shoulder.” You said patting his leg to comfort him.

“No, I’m not tired, I promise.” He said quietly. As miuch as you wanted to believe him, not two minuets later his head was on your shoulder and he was snoring away. You couln’t help but smile.

-----

The band said goodnight to the crowd, passing out the set list and spare picks. The main lights came up as the audience began to leave and the band got off stage. Wil came straight up to you, as was post gig tradition, for a kiss and a very sweaty hug.

“You did great, handsome!” You smiled, holding his face between your hands. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the adrenaline slowly leaving his system as his eyelids began to slouch.

“Thanks darling.” He smiled, leaning in for another kiss. You decided it was time for him to go to bed, leaving the venue in favor of the quiet tour bus. He held your hand tight as you lead him to the bunks in the back, speaking quietly about how he thought the concert had gone. You tucked him in like a little kid, teasing him about being a toddler while he laughed.

“But will you cuddle with me?” He said, grabbing your hand before you could pull away.

“Of course, baby.” You smiled, kicking off your shoes and sliding into bed. Would you regret not changing into PJ’s when you woke up? Probably. But this moment was perfect, and you wouldn’t ever pick a shower over sleeping with your boyfriend.

-----

“Chat, guess who just got home from work?” Wil smiled as he looked at the text you had just sent him, confirming you made it safely to his house. He quickly typed back a response, saying he was on stream but that you should come and visit him. He continued speaking to chat before he heard a small knock on the door.

You creeped into his office, dragging your feet after a long day of work. “Hello, love.” Your boyfriend spun around in his chair and st up to greet you. He lifted his arms to invite you onto his lap and into a hug. “How was work?”

“Good. Just tired.” You mumbled into his neck. “You can keep playing. I’ll just cuddle.” He rubbed your back and turned back around to his screen.

“Chat, my darling has had a long day, so she’s a little tired. I’ll finish this up and then we are gonna go to bed.” He smiled, reaching around your body cuddled up to his chest and began to play again.

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as your head lulled back and your weight sunk into him. “I think she fell asleep.” He whispered to chat. He looked down at your peaceful face. “Yeah she’s totally out.” He giggled, keeping his voice low.

“That’s my cue to leave, friends. Thanks for tuning in. I’ve got to get my love into bed, poor girl. Good night, everyone.”

[ghostradiodylan]

Thirst Games

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it. 

———————————————

Ryan was dutifully rinsing down the canoes outside the boathouse when he noticed a tall figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Dylan loping toward him from the direction of the lodge.

“Ryan, hey! I brought you something for your next campfire!” Dylan reached into his pocket and produced a small zip-top bag full of white powder. He handed it over to Ryan, who eyed it suspiciously.

“Dylan… is this cocaine?”

“Yes. Definitely. I’m giving you cocaine for the campfire with your 10 year old campers. First one’s free. That’s how I get you.”

Ryan looked at him blankly. Dylan sighed.

“It’s coffee creamer, you absolute narc. If you toss just a little in the fire, it flames up and you should get some cool sparks. It’s the magic of chemistry. The kids’ll think you’re a wizard. I thought it’d enhance the vibes for your ghost stories!”

“Oh, wow, that’s… actually really cool.” Ryan’s face broke into a grin. “Thanks Dylan!”

“Don’t mention it,” he winked roguishly, “I like you Ryan, but not enough to share my cocaine with you.” 

Ryan chuckled at this but as he watched Dylan saunter away toward the radio hut, he had to admit that he really didn’t know if he was joking or not. Ryan was often sarcastic himself, but he also had a habit of taking things others said a bit too literally. He figured Dylan probably was not doing lines in the little shack where he worked over the schedules with Kaitlyn and made his announcements, although if he had been that would explain some of his more colorful broadcasting choices.

———————————————

Dylan was alone in the radio hut waiting for Kaitlyn. He had his back to the door, fully absorbed in trying, unsuccessfully, to unstick a stuck button on the ancient PA system, when he heard the door open.

“Sup Kaitlyn?” He called without looking, “you won’t believe what Ryan said today!” An unexpected warm bass voice came in response.

“What did I say?”

Dylan’s head whipped toward the source of the sound so violently that he nearly toppled out of his chair.

“Uhhh something very wise and cool, obviously,” Dylan fumbled, his hand flying to the back of his head disarmingly as he took in the handsome sailing instructor he’d just been all too ready to gossip about.

“Smooth,” was Ryan’s only reply. He was wearing one of those inscrutable smiles he seemed to favor, the ones that drove Dylan crazy, for better and for worse.

“Sorry, I was expecting Kaitlyn.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. So, what were you saying about me?” Dylan could feel heat rising in his cheeks. He felt like he’d been caught in a transgression, but Ryan didn’t sound angry or even suspicious, he merely seemed interested.

“Oh, just about you mistaking the coffee creamer for cocaine. I thought that was pretty cute.”

Why the hell had he said that last part out loud? Did he forget his Adderall again today? “I mean,” he quickly continued, “I just hope you didn’t try to snort a line or whatever. Woulda' been disappointing to get a nose full of French vanilla and no head rush.”

This seemed to put Ryan at ease. He laughed softly.

“Anyway, what brings you to my humble radio station today, sailor?” Dylan put on what he hoped was a winning smile, “what can I do you for—um—do for you?”

“I was actually thinking more about what I could do for you.”

Mysterious. Cryptic. Intriguing. Why was Ryan like this? And why did Dylan like it so much?

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Birthday present for you,” said Ryan, “I talked to Mr. H and he finally agreed to let you guys take the van tonight since I’m going too.” Ryan pulled a set of keys from his pocket and twirled it on his index finger before tossing it to Dylan.

Dylan had to concentrate very hard to actually catch the keys hurtling toward his face, but he managed to do so and was incredibly thankful he hadn’t beefed it in front of Ryan.

“Hey, sweet, thanks dude!” Dylan was actually touched. Ryan hadn’t had to do that, but he was glad he did. Ryan thought the van was the present but Dylan wanted to tell him his presence was the only present he needed. Fuck, that was corny. Being in love made him so corny. He refrained. “I’m really glad you decided to go.”

“Sure thing. I could use a night away from the kids, honestly.”

Dylan and Ryan were grinning at each other when the door burst open again.

“Honey, I’m home!” Kaitlyn called to Dylan before noticing that Ryan was there. “Oh,” she raised an eyebrow at Dylan, “am I interrupting something?” Ryan answered her.

“I was just letting the birthday boy know I secured the wheels for this evening.”

“Oh, cool beans! Can’t wait for our wild night out clubbing in North Kill, the the city that never wakes, with three entire businesses that are open past 7 pm!”

“Hey, we’ll make our own fun,” Dylan promised her, “we always do.”

“Well, it’s almost time for rowing lessons,” said Ryan, by way of excusing himself, “see you guys when you get off tonight.” 

Yeah, definitely gonna see you when I get off tonight, Dylan thought lewdly, I usually do.

“Later Ry-guy,” said Kaitlyn.

Once she was sure Ryan was out of earshot she wheeled around on Dylan.

“Oh my god, your face when I came in just now,” Kaitlyn tittered as Dylan’s cheeks went slightly pink, “Dude. You’re so whipped. You look at that boy like he’s the moon. Like you’re stoned out of your mind and he’s last bag of Cheetos on earth.”

“I knowwww,” Dylan groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto the desk, “I’m so obvious, it’s painful.”

“Well, you’re obvious and he’s oblivious so that’s an interesting combination.”

“I keep flirting with him thinking he might be flirting with me too, but it’s so hard to tell.”

“I can’t get a read on him either. Of course, I haven’t tried to flirt with him. I let men come to me. Or not. It’s whatever.”

Dylan snickered lightly at this, “I don’t think either method is getting us anywhere but, hey, may the odds be ever in our favor.”

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it. 

“Aw, shit,” Dylan continued, “you would look hot as fuck with a bow and arrow.”

Kaitlyn gave a small bow of acknowledgement indicating that she did not disagree. “Well, if things go sideways, I’m not frosting myself like a cake,” he shot her a wicked grin, “might let Ryan do it though.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed in disbelief. “That is so wrong.”

“You’re right, if we’re sticking to the bakery metaphor, it’s really more of a glaze.” 

“EW! You repulse me, Lenivy. I’m out.” Kaitlyn waved a hand dismissively and turned to leave the radio hut.

“Shut up, you love me. Hey, wait up Short Stack!”

"Catch up, Stretch," she shouted back.

Dylan scrambled after her. He did catch up pretty easily since her little legs were like half as long as his. They were heading to the boathouse for their Monday ritual of watching Ryan row across the lake in a tank top. Their ostensible purpose was to act as lifeguards in case any of the kids fell out of the rowboats, but Ryan hadn’t lost one yet so they mostly just chatted together and ogled him shamelessly in the highly flattering golden hour light.

Dylan was gazing at Ryan through a pair of binoculars, watching Ryan’s toned arms and shoulders flexing and releasing as the propelled his boat across the lake. Happy Birthday to me, he thought smugly. Of course, it would have been sexier if Ryan hadn’t had to wear that bright yellow life jacket that obscured the rest of him, or stop to shout instructions at a bunch of middle school kids through a megaphone every few strokes as they screamed and flailed and invariably dropped their paddles into the lake, but Dylan would take what he could get. 

He heard someone approaching him from behind but couldn’t imagine that whoever it was could possibly be more interesting than Ryan’s biceps, so Dylan kept his eyes right where they were until he felt a hand firmly grasp his ass. 

“The fuck—?“ he yelped, jumping and nearly dropping his binoculars.

“Happy Birthday, babe,” said a smooth voice in his ear. It was Nick. Dylan swatted Nick’s hand away, tsking in disapproval and kicking backward, halfheartedly, at the other boy’s shin.

“I swear, Nicholas, if you don’t stop sexually harassing me you’re gonna end up sucking my dick. And that’ll be so embarrassing for you when I get drunk off my ass and tell everyone about it at your and Abi’s wedding. Which I’ll be DJing, obviously.”

“I see no reason that I should be embarrassed by any such boyish transgressions of my bachelor days.” Nick shrugged affably, taking a long drag on the joint he’d brought to the boathouse with him and slowly releasing the smoke through his nose.

“Oh my god, get a room you two.” Kaitlyn held out her hand expectantly, her binoculars still pressed to her face and trained on Ryan. She’d smelled the weed without needing to see it. Nick passed her the spliff and she took a hit.

Dylan had no interest in getting a room with Nick. The tall, wavy-haired guy was certainly attractive enough (plus, who wouldn’t go a little weak in the knees the first time they heard that accent?) and Dylan had made a few earnest passes at him before settling on Ryan as his summer crush, but he was pretty sure Nick was straight, or at least mostly straight. He flirted with Dylan in a joking way, sometimes he even crossed the line a bit, like he had just now, but the way he looked at Abi, the deference with which he treated her, the way he got all cute and fidgety when she spoke to him, that felt more like the real deal and Dylan shipped it. He was trying his best to get Nick to make a move, but thought he was pretty hopeless. Which was maybe a little hypocritical of Dylan since he couldn’t seem to make a move on his crush either. But tonight, he thought, that could very well change.

Anyway, it hadn’t taken long for Dylan to realize he only had eyes for Ryan. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His heart and other prime real estate was reserved for Ryan alone. His eyes however were free to wander over Nick’s bare chest and abs at the pool if they so desired, and it often turned out that they did. But Nick was a follower and no amount of abdominal definition could make up for that in Dylan’s opinion. He was pretty sure the only reason Nick kept flirting with him was that he was mirroring Dylan’s playfully flirtatious energy back at him. He did the same with Jacob, becoming a meathead obsessed with ‘getting chicks’ if they hung out one-on-one for too long.

Ryan, on the other hand, was his own person through and through. He was into the niche little things he liked, black metal, ghost stories, cryptozoology; he didn’t care who knew it or what they thought. And while they generally had a friendly repartee, Ryan challenged Dylan if he thought he was wrong and, as much as Dylan hated for anyone to think he was wrong, he admired the backbone it took for Ryan to point it out, even when he disagreed.

Nick offered the joint to Dylan, who considered it for a moment and declined. “Nah man, Ryan’s coming tonight. I gotta be straight.”

“I feel like you’d want to be anything but straight in every possible way if Ryan’s coming,” Nick chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” he brought the binoculars back up to his eyes in time to see Ryan frantically fishing yet another lost oar out of the lake, “I have to focus.”

“Are you really gonna be straight edge on your own birthday?” asked Kaitlyn, still not taking her eyes off of Ryan. “BOR-ING!”

“No way, I’ll definitely be drunk later,” Dylan assured her, smiling.

“Good,” said Nick, “because I have a handle of vodka in the walk-in with our names on it.”

“Perfection. I’ll stick with that. I just don’t wanna get paranoid around Ryan. He already puts me on edge. Plus, your stash is of a questionable strain if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Nick protested, “It is not! This is perfectly good bud, just because you were convinced that your head was physically fused to the futon last time we smoked, doesn’t mean it’s a quality issue. Didn’t happen to anyone else, did it? That’s the fault of the partaker, not the product.” Kaitlyn was giggling.

“Either way, you guys better get rid of that before Ryan gets finished with the lesson because he will FUH-REAK if he catches you smoking on the property.”

“Ugh, he’s such narc,” Kaitlyn’s eyes were obscured by the binoculars, but Dylan was pretty sure she was rolling them.

“I told him the same thing earlier. I guess we are technically supposed to be ready to jump in the lake to save someone at a moment’s notice, so, maybe he’d be justified in wanting us to not be compromised. For once,” Dylan granted. 

“Yeah, well, good thing you aren’t partaking so you don’t become one with deck while one of the campers drowns.” Nick smirked. Dylan kicked him in the shin for real this time.

———————————————

Happy Thirst Games Thursday, have some pre-canon Hacketteer camaraderie.

This is a WIP inspired by Dylan's birthday being right in the middle of camp and Ryan's line about vodka bringing people together. It's either going to be a one shot posted on my AO3 or it'll get folded into Particles & Waves as a flashback, I haven't yet decided which.

I love these jerks. 💕

[papacopia-crucified]

I knew it would fit my Dracopia fic so. All credits to the creator of this beautiful art piece I just found on Pinterest

After Dark pt6

I had a brainfart for a whole week so, I did not manage to continue write After Dark but I just kept listening to Depeche Mode Enjoy the Scilence, idk it’s HIS song too in my opinion. I’m obsessed. #ilovePapa

🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀🐀

As you were preparing for the night’s shift, you started to become more and more anxious. Party with the ghouls and the beautiful ghoulettes, you’d had to slap yourself, cause it ain’t a dream as you assumed.

“What if Papa shows up Pen? I’ll probably faint and say sorry after waking up.” She was just looking at you just as your pet bat did. You knew that they felt your excitement and even your nervousness. You hear your phone making a beep sound and as you unlocked it you slapped your forehead in realisation.

‘I know it’s you day off, but could you maybe get here? There’s another letter waiting for you. And I think it’s written with blood.’ - Michael

‘SHIT… uhmm yeah I’ll meet u there. And I totally forgot that I’m off today. I have new friends that I’ll meet up there.’

‘Friends? Since when you have friends other than me?’ - Michael

‘I’ll tell you when we meet, I’ll try to be as fast as possible.’

‘Alright see u then bestie.’ - Michael

‘See ya.’

You dropped your phone to the bed and laid backwards until your back touched the bed.

“Why is this keep happening? Why me?”

As you approached the back door of the club, Michael was already there waiting for you. He was kind of not scared but disturbed.

“Finally you’re here.”

“I’m here, so where’s the letter?” He said nothing, but handed you the letter, your name was there written with blood. It was smeared but it was there.

“Maybe it’d be better if you read this inside. You want to people to stare.” He ushered you inside gently and you thanked him. You two did not stop until you reached the door the the dressing room. “Don’t worry (Y/n). Everything will be fine.” He tried to calm you down, but it did not work much since you were jumping out of your skin from fear.

“I don’t think so. Thank you Mich.”

“Anytime.” He kissed your forehead and you opened the door and closed it fast. Your heart was beating faster and you felt that it wanted to burst through your chest. As you opened the letter, you found your way to a chair and dropped down on it. What you did find in that letter made you sick to your stomach.

I’ll find you wherever you are,

Daughter of a murderer

I’ll take my revenge,

As I walk over your and your lover’s cold corpses.

There’ll be no happy ending for you.

Just watch and see

Yours truly, X

It’s crazy you thought, who wants you dead so badly?

“Lover?…. I did not even have a….. on ho Copia.” Realisation just hit you. The dream wasn’t even a dream. He IS yours and you are HIS. It was a lot to take in. You did not even know how long did you rest in that chair, thinking through the whole situation, but you heard the dj announcing the start of the party. And even your phone made a notification sound. As you opened it, you saw that the phone number was not in your contacts.

‘We’re here. And don’t worry I know your phone number, I looked it out from your phone.’ - Cirrus

“Oh shit…. There we go.”

‘I’ll be out ASAP.’

‘Okay honey.’ - Cirrus.

“Did she just called me Honey?” You giggled, already forgot the letter, which before you go you placed it into your locker. Your way to the dance floor was short, as you were practically running to meet the ghouls. You quickly checked on Marge to make sure she’s fine with everything.

“Look who decided to show up.”

“Hey. Is everything alright?”

“If you wanna ask that if I’m fine with taking care of your job too. Yes. What are you doing here anyway?” Marge asked as she was drying one of the glasses.

“I’ll meet up with some friends.” You sat down on one of the bar chairs and Marge poured you some liquid courage. It made you quite surprised, but accepted the drink. “Thanks Marge. Do you wanna drink one too? It’s on me.”

“Alright.” She poured the alcoholic beverage into a glass again and grabbed it with her fingers moving it up.

“Bottoms up!” As it went down your throat you felt the burning sensation, which meant that it’ll have the effects soon that you’re hoping for. as time flew by it was maybe the fourth or fifth beverage that you consumed and was already in a drunken state, but not too drunk. Music was blearing, heat radiated off of the dancing group of people. But it was not the only thing you felt. It was like someone was watching you from afar. Eyeing you from your head to your toe, like he wants to devour you with his mismatched eyes.

“(Y/n). It’s good to see you honey.” You heard Cirrus’ voice and when you turned your head around smiled at her and was aware of the other ghouls behind Cirrus’ back.

“Heyya. Don’t mind me. I’m a little drunk. It’s so good to see all of you.”

“The pleasure is ours Pri…. (Y/n).” Aether took your hand and kissed it affectionately. Papa was a little jealous as he saw his precious ghoul kiss your hand, but he remained in the shadows. He was curious what you’re gonna do and what the ghouls will do. He was rather hungry too, so he hoped to get a little bite from you.

“Oh… it’s you Aether, and Dew, Mountain, Swiss, Rain. Oh… Sunshine, Cumulus. Wow. I can’t believe it that that’s really you.”

“Oh she knows. I like her.” Cooed Cumulus and it made you blush.

“Anyway, you all wants some liquid courage? I already had five… I was a little nervous.” You admitted

“Why?”

“Because you’re Ghost! My favourite band, well the only person is missing is Papa.” As you mentioned his name you heard you name and a rather delicious Italian accent.

“Talking about me Mia Dolce?” He popped up next to you and when he looked at you, legs started to wobble and you almost fell onto him. His eyes bored into yours, never leaving them.

“I think we need to talk Cop…. I mean Papa.” You quickly corrected yourself and he just chuckled.

“Oh Sorella, you can call me Copia.”

“I know. You told me before.” He was suspicious now, what you know about all of the moments you shared before.

“Yeah he would not mind if you were screaming it.” Sunshine whispered into your ear and you slapped her forearm. You were as red as a beetroot. And you imagined it, you beneath him, pleasuring you, kissing you, making you cum. Just the though of it made you wet, for him. Your Papa. He knew….

“Mio Amore, I think you wanted to talk.”

“Please Papa it can wait. We’re here to party, (Y/n) wanted to have a drink too.” Said Dew and Aether finishing each others sentence.

“Alright fine. But not too much alcohol. It’s applies to you too (Y/n).” Papa was touching your lover back now moving you a little closer to him. You were a little intoxicated so you put your hand up to his chest and felt that there was no heartbeat, but he was rather warm. He leaned in little by little until there was a little space between the two of you.

“Co…Copia….. I…”

“Do I make you speechless mia Cara? Papa got your tongue?” His hand grabbed a mop of your hair and moved it behind you ear.

“You can…. I mean…” his lips were inches away from yours.

“Yo, everybody. Listen up, cause I have something to tell ya. I heard that there’s one special woman in here. A lovely lady requested a song just for this special someone.”

“Oh wow… where’s Cirrus?” Dew looked around searching for her but your eyes were only on Papa. Your Papa.

“Our lovely Ghoulette wants to thank this special lady for her kindness and requested a song. Dear (Y/n) I’ll play you Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode.” You were now looking at the dj and Cirrus when she arrived. The song started to play and you immediately grabbed Copia’s hand and started dragging him.

“What are you up to mio topolino?”

“Dance with me Copia.”

“Gladly.”

As you swayed your hips to the music Copia nuzzled close to you. Hands on your hips your hands around his neck. Eye contact was on point, like it was never enough of his gaze. You but your bottom lip Copia responded with a little growl and nudged you closer, like a paper could not go through your bodies. Song already forgotten, there was just the two of you. Moving as one to the music.

"Mia Cara. You're taking my breath away. I just want to devour you. Mi scusi Mio Topolino. I don't know what came over me. I want to kiss you so bad." Papa was slightly embarrassed but you found it cute. You grabbed his face with both hands.

"Kiss me." You did not have him time to respond, your lips collided with his in a bruising kiss. It soon became heated as Copia buried his hand in your hair and tugged it to show your neck to him.

"Please..."

"Already begging Darling?" Papa nuzzled his nose up and down your neck, his hand snaked around your hip and pressed his noticable erection to your stomach. You moaned out his name, your whole body was burning up like you were in hell.

"You go down just like Holy Mary. Mary on a, Mary on a cross." He sang into your ear and he continued with the song. And when he stopped he looked at you and you just nodded at him cause you already knew what he was up to. He smiled at you and saw his long, sharp fangs ready to bite into your neck.

"Papa please.... Copia."

"Say it Mia Cara."

"Please bite me. Drink from me." You bared your neck even more to him, he sighed in approval and peppered your neck with kisses, and you felt it. You don't even know if you screamed or moaned in pain. The only think that you felt is your Papa, drinking from you.

Here it is Ghesties! 🖤 I really enjoyed to write this part and of course at the end I listened to Mary on a cross so that's the inspiration from.

Take care ♥️🖤

[askthedespairkids]

What I was Made For

*With today being their possible last day of training Sly has Komaru wake up early so they can get training out of the way and have the rest of their day to prepare. After a couple hours of training he ends it with the two of them meditating outside. The two sit side by side not a sound besides their respective breathing until*

Sly: *He opens his eyes and looks over at Komaru, who is still focused on her meditation. He quietly gets up and positions himself right in front of her. He reaches his finger out and pokes her attempting to knock her off balance* Komaru.

*She doesn't even wobble this time but her eyes fly open in surprise* Huh? What's wrong?

Sly: Hmm. Would you look at that. Not even an inch off center. You’ve gotten better

You think so? It doesn't always feel like it, but I'm happy if see something. *She stands up as well*

Sly: I think with that, we can call it a day. How are you feeling?

It's hard not to worry, but at the same time I'm thinking...that this is what we've all been fighting for. So, more than anything, I don't wanna disappoint anybody. I don't wanna disappoint you after you spent so much time teaching me.

Sly: Hmm. I’ve been waiting to ask you, but have you decided on where you’re gonna be for all that’s coming?

Honestly...I think I should stay here. I think I'd just get in the way of the others if I went somewhere else.

Sly: I’m not sure I understand what you mean? Get in the way?

It's all well and good train here, but when I was out there at the Despair Base and I fought Towa-san. I just thought to myself afterwards 'I could have easily died just now'. And...it's gonna be so much worse tomorrow that I'm worried I won't be able to think of anything else. I don't want to be a liability...

Sly: So you’re scared?

I guess. Isn't it normal to be scared during this sort of situation?

Sly: Ya know, *He looks down at the ground* this thought has been creeping into my head since the announcement, I’m scared too.

...y-yeah right. Aren't you used to being on death's door? It's like your whole thing...wait. Are you really?

Sly: *He sighs* No. Not like that anyway. I’ve sent so many people to “deaths door” and after the mission with my dad I should’ve went through them myself. My death doesn’t scare me. In fact I think im truly lost my right to have the fear. What scares me is living.

You're...scared you'll survive? Why would you be scared of that?

Sly: I…Komaru…*He rubs his neck. Fingers grazing his dog tag* What do you think of me? Honestly?

Hmm...what do I think of you? I mean, I think you're an amazing teacher. I feel like I'm way more capable than I've ever been and it's all because you saw something in me.

And you're scary, but not mean. Not mean in a cruel way, in any case. Sometimes you're still harsh, but from a place of support...I guess, that's what I think?

Sly: A good teacher huh. I figured it’d be something like that. *He clutches his dogtag* The reason I'm scared of living is because of this. I’m sure as you know…this was my mother’s dogtag…. She uh…she passed away when I was young. Before I was even officially considered an assassin. Whenever I could be, I was attached at her hip. I loved my mother. More than anything in the world and when she was killed it left such a huge hole in me. When I found this tag at the orphanage she grew up in it never left my side again. It’s my memory of my mother…but even with the tag, at the end of the day it’s just a tag. As time has gone by…I…find myself forgetting her face. Forgetting her voice. Her mannerisms. I know we’re assassins. Born killers and die killers. But that was still my mom and I can’t tell you much about her…. It’s just not there anymore. The scary part isn’t dying but it’s having someone you care about die and your memories fading away. In my time here I’ve come to care about so many people that are gonna be in harms way, my fear is that if I lose one and I keep living…what if I forget them too.

…Sly…I can't begin to really imagine it. That after this time I could ever forget the people that helped me get here. I think I'd struggle to forget Koizumi-san’s voice. Or Otonashi-san’s smirk when she notices you lying about something. Or the way that Harukawa-san's eyes shift when she tries to pretend she doesn't care about something. Or even when you used to try and stop yourself from smiling like you would deny yourself joy.

You used to do it for so long, but even to this day I haven't forgotten what that looks like…the people we care about today might not be here tomorrow, it's true…that's why we have to cherish those details while we can because we really don't take note of them until we aren't able to see them all the time anymore. I think what's scary is the fear that you took those things for granted when you could witness them.

Sly: Which is why I’ll be on the front lines. It’s easier to see that you took things for granted once they’re gone but I have no plan of losing anything. I’ll fight my hardest to protect the ones I care about. As your teacher the idea that you would be in the way is asinine. You are more capable than the majority of people here. I’ve seen the work you’ve put in and there’s no doubt in my mind that you are an asset. Not a liability.

Even if you say all of that, it won't mean much if I just end up freezing when push comes to shove...but despite that I still want to protect everybody.

Sly: I’m not gonna tell you to come out on the front lines. Everyone has their own path to follow. But I don’t wanna hear that it’s cause you’re incapable. You wanna protect people? Trust in your training and do your best wherever you are. Everyone around you has more confidence in you than you have in yourself.

...okay. Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I don't want to be anywhere but the front lines.

I want to be useful! I want to help everyone as best as I can...so I'll do it.

Sly: *He places a hand on her shoulder* You’re gonna be okay. I’m sure of it. You’re gonna have to be cause *He takes off his dog tag and reaches it out to her* I want you to return this after all the dust settles.

Huh? But isn't this important to you? Are you sure you'd wanna entrust it to me?

Sly: I know for you I’m just your teacher. If we’re honest you’d prolly stay far away from me if I wasn’t. But for me I think about some of the moments we’ve had since we met. Like how you said it’s hard to trust me since it doesn’t seem like I trust you as much. I’m not very good at stuff like that but this is the best way I can think of to show you that you have my deepest trust as a student but also as a person. You are whether you believe it or not someone I care about so taking this is also a promise to me do your best but to also do all you can to survive.

*She's very visibly speechless. Hesitantly she picks up the dog tag and puts it on*

I...I want you know as well that I've really valued this time as well. I wouldn't still be here without you.

So, I'll repay you and make sure you get this back tomorrow.

Sly: It’ll be my honor to fight besides you. So let’s show them what we’re made of.

You got it!

[inkdragonworks]

After waiting a few days, I wanted to announce I’ve deleted Twitter off my phone.

Which is still a lame announcement. I was debating deleting my account entirely but there’s enough people I mentioned it to that would be upset about it being gone, that I’d feel like it’d be better to keep it around. I doubt Twitter will ever switch hands, or the person forced to run it will care about the user experience over their own, so I guess I’ll only ever go on to dump links that go back to here.

It’s not entirely related to the current owner though. I’ve had problems with twitter for a long time, but accepted being on there due to needing something to distract myself, and that it had the largest audience.

lately, as in within the past few years, I’ve cared less and less about audiences, and accepting that me and the stuff I care about are probably going to stay relatively obscure. My output is too slow; even if I managed to make something that had a freak accident amount of recognition, I couldn’t capitalize on that momentum. It’s just not who I am or what I want to make.

Maybe if I win the lottery and could pay people to help, then sure. Crowdfunding isn’t a realistic avenue (too much time to create, not enough interest to justify it, amount of money required for it to be a livable wage is too expensive, burden of deadline, risk of life circumstances getting in the way, etc). The money I’m making and saving now, it’s for my family and livelihood, it’s not gonna be for a passion project.

I’ve thought about all that for years. I’m fine taking a year to make a chapter at this point. I’m fine with the idea of dying before completing it. I’m fine with it getting a modest release and being moved on from after a week, like the majority of things released. I’m happy working on it for its own sake.

the kind of person I’d have to be to change that isn’t something I’d like. I don’t care about being a brand, or supporting a brand, or someone’s shitty brand image. That’s the other aspect of twitter that I’m just not into and the whole trap of chasing an audience. “Outreach” “market viability” “viewer retention” “content output” “engagement” “hype culture”. It’s concepts that turn things from works of art into products, and even if that isn’t someone’s goal, platforms like twitter perpetuate that perspective. It’s not real, but it’s a pretty addictive mindset cause it keeps giving you feedback to encourage it. Likes, retweets, follows, views, comments. You look at one post you made before to now and feel a sense of progress. You look at the post you made and one someone else did, and you think that’s a goal. But its not a goal towards cultivating self expression and fulfillment. It’s a goal towards chasing a high.

Usually reality is pretty boring, and I’m good at being boring, so that’s where I’d like to be now. I’m sorry that I have this tendency to ramble about these things, but that’s where my care lies. I think about existential stuff a lot. As for tumblr it’s pretty dead and I don’t really browse it much. I feel like having some place to share my stuff publicly, so this is what I’m doing for now.

[jmrothwell]

Watching a horror movie huddled in a blanket for Writer's Choice!

The sounds of popcorn microwaving and Julie clattering around in the kitchen echoed from the kitchen. Flynn flipped through the many movie options they had available, making snide comments under their breath from time to time. Carrie watched and waited from her chair, solidly trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in her stomach. 

It’d been a while since she had been over to the Molina’s. Even longer since she’d been inside or stayed for a movie night. She’d shown up at the same time their movie nights used to always start only to be told they had to wait for the guy’s.

It wasn’t the only change. Though the rest of the changes were more subtle. Carrie pouted as she looked across the room taking them all in. The TV was newer, there were more photos on the wall, the paint had been changed.

Overall it still managed to feel like the same house but she felt wrong in it. LIke she no longer had a place in it. Which was ridiculous. Flynn and Julie both had invited her to be here, and she’d been hanging out with them and the guys more and more over the past few months. 

Not that she felt any better during any of those hang outs. Constantly worried about lashing out or saying the wrong thing she always ended up stiffly pouting or glaring on the sidelines. She’s honestly surprised they kept inviting her, she couldn’t be much fun to be with. 

Just when she began to think the fond nostalgic familiarity of the Molina room might help relax her, the boys loudly announced their arrival. She immediately stiffened, and caught herself striking a pose to reflect a nonchalance she didn’t feel at all.

“Movie night.” Luke and Reggie cheered as they collapsed onto the couch. Alex and Willie went to see if Julie needed help carrying the snacks. Maybe she should have thought of that.

“Oh! Hey Carrie.” Luke smiled at her as Reggie waved, both of them smiling under those puppy dog stares of theirs. She’s not sure why they always looked so happy to see her. Then he excitedly shouted toward the kitchen, “Carrie’s here!”

“Hell yeah.” Alex and Willie both shouted back. Their excitement made a little more sense. She, Alex, and Willie had all found some common ground for dance, despite their differences in training and style. 

They were also the only ones other than Flynn who could keep up with her sarcasm or didn’t shy away from her snark. 

“You here for movie night?” Reggie bounced in his seat close to the middle of the couch. A small space between him and where Luke leaned into the corner had to be reserved for Julie. 

Which would leave almost a whole half of a couch free. Room for Alex and Willie, and possibly Flynn. A crowded couch which she probably couldn’t fit on.

Carrie’s lips pursed involuntarily, reminding herself she’d been invited and wanted and to not make assumptions. 

She snapped her gaze back to Reggie, hoping the silence hadn’t been too long. His smile didn’t seem to have faltered any. “Yep,” she answered stiffly, “I guess it’s Flynn's turn to pick?”

Reggie's smile wavered at the edges, Luke dove over the side of the couch digging through the pile of blankets there. Willie cackled as they, Alex, and Julie returned from the kitchen placing their haul of snacks on the coffee table. Then they all settled into the couch almost exactly where Carrie thought they all would.

Flynn’s laugh joined Willie’s as they moved to sit in the spot between Willie and Reggie. They dodged the blanket Luke threw towards Alex, “that’s right and today we are continuing are exploration of Christmas horror films.”

Carrie’s mouth ran dry, as her grip on the arm of the chair tightened. She prayed her expression remained neutral. Then wondered what the best way to hide behind a pillow without getting caught might be as her eyes drifted to the TV, waiting for Flynn to start the movie.

And waited.

Why weren’t they starting the movie? 

“Why are you still over there?” Julie’s voice drew her focus back to the couch, everyone staring at her expectantly. 

Carrie’s brows furrowed, a strange warmth swelling in her chest, “there doesn’t seem to be much room.”

“So?” Luke scoffed.

Reggie shifted uncertainly in his seat like he wasn’t sure which way to go as he earnestly supplied, “we can make room.”

Alex groaned, but pressed himself further into his corner of the couch, “just let us know where you want to sit.”

Carrie hesitated, torn between old instincts and new wants. Fighting back every urge to just roll her eyes and demand she was fine on her own. She knew full well how much she hated most horror movies.

Flynn’s hand tapping the small space between herself and Reggie was what finally got her to move. An unspoken invitation and reminder how she was wanted. Reggie and Flynn were quick to move to give her as much space as they could.  Though Carrie did still end up mostly cuddled into Flynn’s lap, not that she was complaining. 

Reggie threw a portion of one the blankets across her lap and his as Flynn finally started the movie. Carrie honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you what it was about. Since she had spent most of the movie hiding behind Flynn’s braids under the guise of playing with them.

[thewatercolours]

King's Quest Ficlet: "Dapplethorpe" (Goblin Graham, interlude)

The earlier Goblin Graham installments can be found here within the Rippling Consequences arc.

--

“Oh! Oh my stars. Oh, forgive me. Your face isn’t one I expected to see at my doorstep.”

“Hello, Auntie. I mean, um, Aunt. Sorry. Been a bit. I’m just used to – you know, can we start over? This is why most royals have someone else announce them before they arrive, I guess. And I really should have sent ahead instead of just turning up. I didn’t expect you to recognize me anymore, but you know, process of elimination… I’m sorry, I’m usually rather decent at this sort of thing.”

“Oh, I’m used to it, dear. I sailed with one of my first mates more than twenty years and he still did exactly what you’re doing any time he got back from a shore leave more than two days long.”

“Ha.”

“And let’s just go with Auntie, if it’s all right with you. I’m far too old to get used to a change. Will you be wanting me to call you ‘Majesty?’

“Rosella’s just fine, especially if we’re going the ‘Auntie’ route. Oh dear. I see you were going out. If it’s a bad time I can wait.”

“Oh, don’t. I was only bringing a basket of work down to the brook. It can wait just as well as you can. And the basket didn’t come all the way from Daventry with something on it’s mind. Oh – oh no. Is everything all right? Has something happened?”

“Um… not exactly? I don’t really know how to explain it without telling the whole story.”

“You’ve been riding hard, haven’t you? Haven’t you at least got a guard?”

“I never needed guards in the old days.”

“You must be worn out. And it must be quite the story. Come in and have something to eat and drink by the fire.”

“Is anyone in the house right now?”

“A couple of the hired hands are in the kitchen.”

“Then I’d rather go down to the brookside with you. I think it’d be easier.”

“My dear, you’d better watch it. This is an old body. You might kill me with suspense. Is it bad, whatever it is?” “I don’t know. The magic mirror’s gone all strange. It’s showing the story of Dad escaping the goblin tunnels. But it’s different. This time, it’s showing he got turned into a goblin.” “He got turned into a goblin?”

“In the visions, at least. And this whole thing where he gets out but finds the kingdom is under siege by the goblins. And it won’t stop like it used to. It just goes on and on showing. Gwendolyn’s convinced it’s somehow showing something real. It’s driving her mad. And we don’t have answers. I asked everyone in Daventry who was alive at that time what they remembered – and they all say it doesn’t line up. Dad came back, perfectly himself, they say, and other than a few kidnapped villagers, everything was normal and peaceful in Daventry. Just the way he’s always told it. The guards don’t remember it taking place that way.” “They’re still going?”

“A few old-timers are, anyway. They don’t remember it like that – but it’s all a bit blurry for them. Age, I expect. I haven’t seen Ken take his helmet off in ages, but he’s got to be positively ancient by now, and you know how old people and their memories – oh! Oh, well that’s put my foot in it.”

“A bit. Now take it out of your mouth so you can keep talking.”

“Well, there’s no one else left in Daventry who was alive at the time. And then I remembered you. And that Dad came here to see you and Grandma not long after the whole goblin thing, and I thought… well, it’s silly, but if you could just tell me something about it either which way, it might help. I’m so worried for Gwendolyn. She’s in an absolute state about it all.”

“Oh my. I have no idea what to say. I never heard of anything like this.”

“That he was a goblin?”

“Or any of it. But then, I wasn’t here. I was… let me think. If we’re talking about the time Graham got kidnapped, I was on the voyage to Tamir at that time – I was gone nearly a year. I’m afraid the guards are better help than I am.”

“Oh. I’m --”

“No, no apologies. Neither of us is wasting our time. This isn’t the end of your trail. We’ve hardly even talked. Look. You give me my cane, and if you wouldn’t mind taking the basket, we’ll head down to the brook and try to make heads and tails if we can.”

“I’m awfully grateful.”

“At least I’ll get a story out of it. It’s a crime how long it’s been since I’ve connected with the family. Come on. Down the path round the back. The thing is, at the time you’re talking about, I wasn’t home, like I said. It was our oldest sister who was still living with my Mom at the time. She’d have been the one to talk to.”

“But she’s gone.”

“Right. But she told me things. Madeline always told us things when we came and went. And she kept things too. She had so many chests of things she kept. A regular hoarder, rest her soul. Now I wonder. I wonder.”

[helenaheissner]

Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 19

Kate

“You ready for this?” I asked Faith.

“As I’ll ever be,” Faith replied. 

“My makeup looks okay?” 

“I did it myself, didn’t I?” she said. 

“Good point. Of course it’s perfect,” I said. 

“Heh. Flatterer.”

“Never been called that before,” I said, raking a hand through my hair, noticing some split ends. I should get it cut soon… Or get it done soon, I suppose. I guess it was time for me to figure out the difference. I’d been going to barbers once a year all my life and asking for the bare minimum to be trimmed and promptly didn’t think about my hair after that. Now… Now that seemed like a terrible idea, and one I couldn’t believe I’d been indulging for as long as I had. I should try something new with it- Mom had mentioned her stylist was a miracle worker with something called ‘layering.’ I’d have to look up what that actually meant, but if it could make me look girlier it must’ve been a good thing. And maybe a new color, too; the platinum blonde looked great on Mom, and everyone had always told me I’d taken after her in the looks department, so maybe it’d look good on me too. 

“I’ll admit, that’s not terribly surprising,” Faith said, unbuckling her seatbelt in the shotgun of my truck, checking her own hair for split ends. Lucky girl had perfect hair- it was so unfair, she probably woke up with it looking that good. 

“Hey now,” I said, poking her cheek. 

She playfully swatted my finger away and raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, fair enough, I walked into that one,” I said. “Also, it’s pretty accurate.”

“Yes,” she said. “Just like ‘flatterer’ is accurate for who you are now.”

“And like how ‘gorgeous supermodel’ is accurate for who you are now?” I said. 

Her jaw dropped, and I couldn’t help but picture her thought process as being a hamster running on its wheel. She broke off eye contact, and I started giggling. “That’s so not fair!” she said, finally giggling back. 

“It’s the truth, is what it is!” I said, poking her in the cheek again. 

“How dare you,” she said. 

“How indeed,” I said, winking at her. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she said, opening the passenger side door. 

We both walked into Gaines’ Auto Body and Bodybuilding kitted out in our respective favorite sundresses: mine was pink with shirt-sleeves and white polka dots, hers was a sleeveless black number with gold stripes. I grabbed her arm and held her tight as we walked through the gym towards the back office, and whispered, “Just ignore them,” when I saw her eyes go wide with fear at all the huge dudes staring at her for various reasons. 

Nadine was waiting for us inside her office when we got there. “Hey, girl! And other girl! You must be Faith Watanabe!”

“I am she,” Faith nodded. 

“Kate’s told me all about you.”

“Oh?” Faith said, looking at the floor. 

“Good stuff, I promise,” I said, patting her on the back. 

“I just wanna start by saying you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Nadine said. 

“I want to,” Faith said. “I think Kate’s idea is good. And if Gaines is as much of a tool as you make him sound like-”

“He is,” Kate said. 

“He VERY MUCH is,” Nadine nodded. 

“Then forcing his hand doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world,” Faith said. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. 

Nadine spent a few minutes adjusting the lighting in her office, then set us up for our photoshoot. It took about an hour, but when it was over, we had a full roll of pictures ready for social media to announce both my own friendship with my former arch-rival and Gaines’ public support of the trans community. Eric Gaines’ may have been a cynical asshole, but if I could use the implements at my disposal to push him into being more publicly trans-friendly, then I’d be doing myself (and probably other people as well) a favor. Nadine also had a whole ‘women in STEM’ angle she wanted to try pushing, but she mentioned that it would be better to wait until the finals tournament started to go for that. 

Of course, any of this working out long-term was contingent on me continuing to win. 

No pressure or anything.  

The shoot went by relatively quickly, and after that Faith and I decided to get a late lunch. She guided us to a ramen shop on Sawtelle Boulevard in Culver City, and after about forty minutes of waiting and parsing through anime merch shops, we were seated at a long bar table around the kitchen watching our soup and noodles prepared for it. Salt and pork and chicken and spice and seaweed scents all mixed together into a tantalizing symphony of aromas. 

My pork miso ramen and Faith’s chicken shoyu were placed in bowls in front of us, and Faith pressed cloves of garlic into both our bowls. I dug in with my chopsticks and took in a mouthful of spicy ground pork and red broth. “Mmmmm,” I groaned. 

“Good stuff, right?” Faith said, swallowing her own food. 

“Soooo good! How did you find this place?”

“Olivia took me here on our first date,” Faith said, smiling wistfully while looking at nothing in particular. 

… Until a moment passed, and suddenly she was smiling wistfully while looking very clearly at me. 

I shifted in my seat and broke off eye contact as Faith sipped from her glass of water, leaving a red lipstick stain on the rim as she stared longingly into my eyes. A hundred million thoughts all went through my mind at different speeds and in opposite directions, but chief among them was ‘you have a boyfriend, you have a boyfriend, you have an incredibly handsome and charming and supportive boyfriend.’

Did I miss something? When did this happen?! This made no damn sense- everything about Faith Watanabe had always been confusing, and now that was even more true than ever! 

Okay, let’s think about this- Zeke hadn’t said anything about this, and he told me everything so I didn’t think he was holding out on me. I was… Resigned to the idea that he might want to leave me for Faith, even if it would feel like my heart getting surgically removed without anesthesia. Faith was here first, had liked him longer, knew him better, could probably make him happier, and was way, way, WAY hotter than me. Dancing with her the other night had been fun, and dancing with her and Zeke had been REALLY fun, and I really liked spending time with her, and I really REALLY liked spending time with both of them… But I didn’t want to make Faith into a third wheel, and I was aware that I might wind up being the third wheel if he dumped me for her… 

UGH! This was so confusing! Why did nothing make sense!? Why did I have to be so freaking stupid?!

That was when I noticed Faith waving her hand in front of my face. 

“Gah!” I said, my slumped posture suddenly straightening. 

“You okay?” she asked. “You kinda… Went away for a minute there.”

“I, uh, well, you see,” I stammered, struggling to make eye contact. “You… I… How are things with you and Zeke?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” she smirked. 

“I mean, it’s a relevant question for both of us,” I said. 

“That’s true,” she said. 

“After the other night, after we all danced together,” I said, “Did things go back to normal between you two? Did you talk at all about what happened? Are you guys okay?”

“To answer your questions in reverse order,” Faith said, “We’re okay. We haven’t talked about what happened. And I don’t know that things will ever really go back to normal per se, now that the cat’s out of the bag.”

“That… That makes sense,” I said, gulping down a mouthful of noodles and meat. “I just mean… What do you think is gonna happen between you guys?”

“I don’t really think that’s up to me,” Faith said, stirring her soup with her chopsticks. “It’s up to him. And you.”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

“I mean…,” she started, “I mean that I know what you were thinking, when you got me to confess to him. You thought he would leave you for me. Because you think you still aren’t done apologizing for being a jerk to me. But the reality, my dear Katie-”

I blinked with the rapidity of a machine gun open-firing. “‘My dear?’” 

“- is that I was just as much of a jerk to you, and I don’t think I’m done apologizing yet. You, however, have more than made up for everything. I really like the person you’ve become. Or maybe it’s just the person you’ve always been, whom I was just too dumb to see,” Faith said. She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. 

My brain was short-circuiting, and I dared not open my mouth for fear of stuttering at a million miles per hour. This wasn’t happening, there was literally no way this was happening-

“I like you,” Faith said. “And I like Zeke. I like you both the same way, even if it feels different with each of you. And I know you and Zeke have a good thing going, and I don’t wanna get in the way of it. I want you both to be happy. But you… You taught me to be brave, Katie Calloway. I mean that- you’re the bravest person I know. You see something you want and you go right for it. I want to be more like that, more like you in that way. And I gotta start somewhere. So I’m starting here and now, with you. Not leaving anything unsaid.”

A feeling surged through me, like I was being lowered into a hot spring after running a marathon, my aching limbs and throbbing heart finding relief and bliss and comfort. My mouth opened and closed, and Faith put a single finger over my lips. “You don’t have to respond right now. You can think about it, about how you feel about me, about what you want to do with this. I’m throwing a lot at you, I know.”

“D-does Zeke know you like me too?” I said, trying to focus on anything other than the finger hovering on the borders of my mouth.

“No,” Faith said, taking her slim, delicate digit off of my lips, to my relief and my chagrin. “I was gonna talk to him about it after the Gregson fight. He doesn’t need the distraction right now.”

“That’s fair,” I said, trying to keep my brain from melting out my ears. “Do you want me not to say anything?”

“I don’t think that’s up to me,” Faith said with a nonchalant shrug. “He’s your boyfriend, it’s your call whether or not you tell him about this conversation.”

“But what do you want me to say?” I said, staring into my bowl of food. “W-what do you want out of this? What’s your ideal outcome?”

She bit her lower lip a moment, then said, “I had a lot of fun dancing with the both of you the other night. If we could all keep doing that together, I think… I think that would make me really happy. But if that’s not what you want, or not what he wants, I’ll back off. Mostly… I just want you both to be happy.”

I gulped. “O-okay. I need to… I’ll take you up on your offer to let this marinate for a few days, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” she said, cupping my cheek and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I struggled not to release a sapphic moan there and then. “Food is on me today, yeah?”

I nodded. 

This was… This was a lot to take in. I couldn’t even believe it was happening, and yet… 

And yet here I was. So very blessed.

***

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[todoscript]

sweetest delight

SYNOPSIS: While Shouto’s out hunting down villains on Valentine’s Day, you try your hand at making some sweets to celebrate the occasion, and in doing so, find your efforts rewarded in more ways than one.

pairing: pro hero!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

genre: smut. fluff. pro hero au.

word count: 7.3k+

warnings: 18+. characters are aged up. dominant!shouto. apron kink. praising. oral (both receiving). face-sitting. 69. cum-eating.

author’s note: god, this is long overdue, but i finally got this thing out after all this time. and of course, it ended up getting out of hand again

“Fuck, fuck, fuck–”

A range of curses spewed from your mouth as the unpleasant smell of your burnt confections permeated the space of your kitchen, threatening to notify the fire alarm overhead of your latest baking mishap. Luckily, you entered the kitchen just in time to dissipate the smoke before it can do so, fanning your towel while navigating to the oven to find your crisp, blackened sweets already ruined inside. The corners of your lips slipped into a scowl at another failed batch of mini chocolate cupcakes at your hand. You slid on a pair of oven mitts to transfer the set off the rack and onto the kitchen counter.

A flicker of optimism in your head presented the thought that they didn’t seem that bad at first glance, going so far as to believe they might’ve tasted relatively fine and that the burnt parts simply added a bitter flavor that would balance the overall sweetness of the decadent chocolate cupcakes. But upon closer inspection, you knew you were lying to yourself.

Flipping the miniature cakes out of the molds, you discovered the sweets were encased in a dreary black outer shell, a sight which made you grimace, wondering how you screwed up so badly to have concocted such a dismal image. You definitely had no right feeding these to Shouto, let alone offer them to him as a Valentine’s Day gift.

As everyone knew, the fourteenth day of February marked Valentine’s Day, the day where couples expressed their love to one another by giving gifts, spending quality time through dates, and displaying many other forms of affection. This year, however, Shouto was called in at his agency to investigate a case of villains whose plan was to wreak havoc on this special occasion.

Now, any person would find it normal to be peeved over these circumstances—having their lover’s free time eaten up by work when they could be celebrating together with a nicely lit dinner or a casual, romantic night at home, and perhaps cap off a wonderful evening with a smooth transition into the bedroom. Much better than spending a day at home alone, pitifully watching couples intertwine their hands together in envy as they walked along the sidewalk beneath your apartment complex, right?

Well, you, on the other hand, were a different case. Rather than sulk around as you waited for Shouto to arrive home later, you decided this would be the perfect chance to whisk up some sweets to surprise him. After all, what’s Valentine’s Day without some chocolate delights on the side, made with vanilla, sugar, cocoa butter, and lots of love and effort. A perfect way to welcome Shouto home from his mission while honoring the festivities, you’d say.

Besides, you understood the situation well enough to recognize that the citizens’ well-being came first before any date of yours. Your boyfriend was a hero, after all, and a Pro at that. It’s not as if you and Shouto hadn’t celebrated Valentine’s Day together before. So long as he came home—intact—prior to the clock ticking to midnight, one day didn’t bother you.

Though… after witnessing the aftermath of several failed attempts at baking thus far, you started to wonder if it would’ve done you better not to get so involved, only to waste resources and pervade your kitchen with an acrid smell.

Still, despite the trials and tribulations, you were determined to come out on top. You tapped your index finger repeatedly against the surface of the marbled counter. “Did I mix up the baking times? Maybe I undermined the portion sizes so the cupcakes started cooking faster?” you speculated out loud, wondering how to troubleshoot the minor errors to come out successful in your next attempt.

After some thought, you decided not to dawdle on your overthinking for too long and shrugged off the idea of redoing another batch of cupcakes. “It’s fine, I’ll just move onto the chocolates then. They’re the star of Valentine’s Day so better to focus on those,” you told yourself. A grin found its way on your face as you rolled the sleeves of your blouse up your forearms. “Alright, let’s get to it then!”

You retrieved a recipe sheet from across the counter, scanning through the contents while overlooking the ingredients lying in front of you. Compared to baking cupcakes, chocolates should be easier to tackle since you weren’t entirely making them from scratch. All you had to do is temper the chocolate melts in a bowl over a heat source, pour them into silicone molds, and refrigerate until hardened and shaped to the perfect, bite-sized delight. Seemed simple enough.

.

.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as simple as you thought.

Or rather, you chose to make the whole process more complicated than it needed to be, not realizing the ambitious turn your take on these chocolates was moving toward until you drove yourself into another mess.

Your first trial of bonbons was sprawled out over parchment paper, waiting for your verdict. Eyes roaming the array of sweets tentatively, you absorbed the mixture of pink and white hues with an unsure look on your face. Somehow during the process, you opted to forgo the customary milk chocolates for white and strawberry, which was the closest you could get to matching Shouto’s signature hair colors.

You’d thought it’d be cute for the treats to have a slight resemblance to him as a simple yet sweet reminder that he was on your mind throughout your progress. But staring down at the final product, you wished you guessed ahead of time that the vision you sparked in your head was not going to be as bright and pretty in comparison to what came out.

You frowned at the batch with narrowed brows before begrudgingly scooping a piece and tossing it into your mouth. The sweetness of the strawberry and white chocolates coexisted together to form a smooth texture that left behind a creamy, floral undertone on your tongue. What was incredibly lacking, however, laid in the looks department. The visuals left… more to be desired, to say the least.

With the idea of wanting to use two different flavors of chocolate, you also played on the notion of incorporating a theme. That theme being half-and-half. And half-and-half being splitting the colors on the chocolates right down the middle.

Though not a complicated plan for an adept baker, it was the exact opposite for a newbie like you who had came up with the idea on the spot. With your chocolates appearing in odd shapes and sizes, not one seemed to resemble another, which was the result of both your lack of patience and miscalculations. You had to allow one of the flavors to harden in the mold before adding the other to not prematurely mix the colors, but judging by the swirls of pink and white surrounding the chocolates, that didn’t seem to go so well. Add on to the fact you had some trouble inverting them out of the silicon molds—the edges of the chocolates ending up smooshed or torn off entirely—and you were left with another failed attempt at a Valentine’s present.

“Guess making sweets isn’t really my thing, huh?” You sighed, body slumping forward against the kitchen counter in defeat. Your eyes wandered from your sad chocolates to the hefty amount of dirty dishes piled in the sink. All this, and you weren’t able to make anything worth giving to Shouto. What exactly were you going to tell him when he came home, bearing witness to this entire mess? No, Shouto was probably under enough stress and fatigue as it was after working all day. Plus, his anticipation for a gift would only be amplified if he saw the number of baking supplies you’ve wasted today. At this point, you had to turn in the towel.

“Oh well… I better clean everything up before Sho comes home and start on din–”

Your words were interrupted by the sharp sound of the front door opening.

“I’m home!” an all too familiar voice announced, one that you were more than aware belonged to a particular fire and ice hero.

Surprised, you glanced over at the clock to check the time, which read a bold 6:00 PM—sooner than you expected your boyfriend to arrive home from his duties that day. So soon, in fact, that you weren’t able to even begin erasing any of the evidence littered around the kitchen.

“Y/n?” you heard him call. Freezing in place, you picked up Shouto breathing in a quick whiff. “What’s that smell?” he asked but didn’t wait for a response, traveling through the enormous apartment to find that answer for himself. Hearing his feet shuffling across the hardwood floor, you moved quickly.

“The kitchen smells sweet but also... bitter.”

Sweet and bitter..? you repeated but soon realized what he meant—those damn burnt chocolate cupcakes you left out. While in your rush with making the chocolates, you had forgotten to dispose of them beforehand. Though the bitter smell was not as prominent as when the cupcakes first came out of the oven, it still didn’t evade Shouto’s keen senses.

After shoving the burnt mini cupcakes in a trash bin, you scrambled to the entrance to the kitchen, thankfully cutting Shouto’s path off just in time as you met him there. “Oh hey, Sho, why didn't expect you to come home so early!” you greeted, a cheerful lilt in your tone as you leaned an arm on the side of the doorway, hoping to come off ordinarily chill to avoid any questioning looks. It seemed you achieved that much at least by how Shouto smiled warmly at your appearance.

“You should’ve shot me a quick text or something.”

“Sorry, we managed to track down the group of villains right away and finished the mission smoothly without any casualties,” he explained. “I guess I was in such a hurry to come home and celebrate Valentine’s Day with you that I must’ve forgotten.” The soft look on Shouto’s handsome features had you in a daze for a second; you nearly missed him descending his head to your level so his lips could find yours. Eventually, you broke from your stupor and swiftly turned your head so he planted a peck on your cheek instead.

You were never one to purposely avoid a kiss on the lips like that from him—far from it actually—but you didn’t want him to find any residual sweetness on your lips from the confections you taste-tested that day and have him bring up if you made anything for him. One thing you surely couldn’t avoid, however, was his puzzled face at your uncharacteristic actions. Still, Shouto wasn’t one to overthink the details. Instead, he decided to look at the bigger picture, such as the dirty yet cute, pink and brown frilly apron tied around your body.

“Your apron’s a mess,” he chuckled lightly. The comment caught you off-guard, eyes slowly traveling down to the flour and chocolate stains on your Valentine’s-themed apron. “Have you been cooking?” he asked. You fumbled with your answer.

“O-Oh yeah..! In fact, I’m… still cooking, actually!” you quickly added, making up for your lack of words. “C’mon, it’s probably been a long day for you. You should go freshen up in the shower while I get everything done and cleaned!” You tried shoo-ing Shouto from the kitchen’s vicinity, but he didn’t budge.

“I can help out if you like. I wouldn’t want you to fix everything up by yourself, especially since we’re supposed to spend the rest of Valentine’s Day together,” he said, and as much as you liked to take him up on his kind and thoughtful offer, you had to object.

Firmly shaking your head, you continued your attempts at pushing Shouto to retreat to the shower and scrub off the troubles of his day. “No, you’ve probably done enough work today as it is! Just let me handle the rest, ‘kay?” you insisted, straining a smile. However, your hurried shoving felt almost too persistent than what Shouto found normal.

“Well, what are you making then–” As he tilted his head up to sneak a peek, you followed his movements, elevating yourself onto your tiptoes to block his vision in time.

“S-Soba noodles..! Cold! Just how you like them,” you answered after partially interrupting him. Quirking a brow at your fidgety gestures, Shouto stared at the smile etched on your lips which screamed of suspicion. Now he was sure something was up.

“Love,” he said, his voice a tone lower than usual that made goosebumps appear on your skin, staring at his turquoise and gray eyes warily, “are you hiding something from me?”

“What? Psh, no,” you feigned innocence, shrugging, “Why would you think that?”

Shouto gave you a look, silently telling you that you should more than know the reason why, but you chose to remain ignorant. No point in questioning it any further then. He would have to pry the answer out himself.

Aware that you had no intention of letting him pass voluntarily, Shouto began putting his hero training to use. He side-stepped in a single motion, quickly pivoting on the balls of his feet to slip through your defenses. You didn’t have time to ask yourself what happened before you turned around to watch his reaction to what you left for him on the kitchen counter.

Upon entering the kitchen, Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes were immediately drawn to the marbled white-and-pink sweets sprawled across the parchment paper. His interest piqued, he walked straight to the chocolates with you trailing behind. You could feel the heat in your cheeks slowly rise from the embarrassment at seeing Shouto inspect your sorry excuse of chocolates.

“Hm, no soba noodles, but I may have found something even better,” he said, and you wondered if you heard correctly or that maybe he saw something you didn’t. You rapidly blinked about four times, letting your vision adjust, and yet your chocolates remained.

“You’re kidding… right?”

Shouto lifted a brow at your hesitance. “No, why would I be kidding?” he replied thoughtfully. He took one of the chocolates off the parchment paper, raising it in the air between his thumb and index finger. “You made these for me, didn’t you?”

“I mean, yeah, they were supposed to be a Valentine’s Day gift, but…”

“But..?” A frown settled on his lips, watching you nervously twiddle your thumbs while you held your hands against your apron. “Y/n, you can tell me.” Not liking how you weren’t meeting his eyes, his finger drew your chin up so he could get a better glimpse of your face.

“But they don’t look the part. They’re hideous,” you quietly admitted, your words mellowing into a whisper the more they departed your lips. The way he treated your creations as if they belonged on a pedestal didn’t sit right in your eyes. “So I... didn’t want you to see them, or any of this actually. I thought if you saw what I was doing, you’d get your hopes up for something special, only to be disappointed.” You tried avoiding his gaze again, but Shouto wouldn’t allow it, following your eyes as his hand pried yours apart to take one in his own.

His focus shifted from the pink and white chocolate held in front of him to the uncertainty clouding your expression. “I’m not sure what you mean. They look fine to me.”

“Sho, you don’t have to lie to me just so you don’t end up hurting my feelings. Anyone can see how uneven they look,” you said, pointing at the rest of the batch still sitting on the counter behind him. There was a low chuckle coming from the male’s lips, one that you guessed was out of amusement, but you were too caught in your troubled feelings to be sure.

“Well, I have to admit, they don’t exactly resemble the perfect, visual representation of the chocolates you’d find at the store or anything,” he acknowledged with you mumbling an ‘I told you so’ in response before he continued, “but that’s the reason why I like them. That means you made them for me and there isn’t any chocolate like it. They’re one of a kind.”

His genuine words took you aback, eyes glimmering and cheeks flushed. You were too wrapped up in your need for perfection that you didn’t realize you could consider your efforts that way.

“Besides,” he threw the little bonbon in his mouth, “they taste great,” he said as the strawberry and white cream melted on his tongue with its rich sweetness.

Despite his praise, you thought he had only said that because you knew for a fact that the chocolates did at least pass in the taste department. “But what if they had tasted bad too? What would you have said then?” You were bold enough to question, though half-worried about his answer in the back of your head—worried that he would have to take back those sweet words of his.

“I still would have eaten them, regardless. I’d never waste anything you’ve made for me, you should know that. To me, these chocolates are the sweetest delight not because they’re the best looking or tasting, but because they came from you,” he answered earnestly, bending down to tuck a hair away from your stunned yet grateful appearance which looked as if you were nearly about to sigh out loud in relief. You brought your body into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin, and he wrapped his arms around you, lips pressed against your hair.

Shouto didn’t grant you much time to bask in your solace however, before beckoning you over to the kitchen counter. He wasn’t done teasing you just yet.

“Normally couples give each other milk chocolates on Valentine’s day. Any reason you decided on white and strawberry then?” Shouto noted, a grin on his lips as you seemed reluctant to reveal your reasoning—lips pursed and fingers playing with the hem of your apron.

“Well, they’re supposed to be your…” You finished by motioning at the crown of your head before pointing to his red and white locks.

Heh... Cute. The grin that was persistent on his features widened, and your response earned you a kiss on the cheek. “Thinking about me, huh?” he teased. You were more than aware of your intentions throughout your chocolate-making process, but it didn’t make the whole situation any less embarrassing when your motives came to light out of Shouto’s own mouth.

You pouted profusely, turning your face in the other direction as you nudged his arm. “Aren’t you going to eat the rest then?” you asked despite your demure demeanor. You couldn’t see it, but you were positive he was aiming that amused expression in your direction, leaning his head on his palm while his elbow was leveled on the counter.

“You made a lot of chocolates today, love. You don’t expect me to finish them all by myself, do you?” You heard the rustle of the parchment liner unsticking to something behind you. Then a finger poked your cheek, and out of curiosity, you followed where the disturbance came from, only to have a swirl of pink and white pushed past your lips.

“Mm..” you hummed surprisingly in delight at the harmonious strawberry and cream flavors coating your tastebuds.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got to taste them before you arrived home.” You rubbed the back of your head. “And um, I didn’t exactly make these from scratch...” You went about divulging your methods to him, explaining your usage of chocolate melts, which all in all saved you a lot of time, considering your earlier mishaps with the brownies—a misfortune you also confessed to as you side-eyed the trash bin.

The dual-haired male laughed with mirth at the disasters you tangled yourself into today. “Seemed like you had an eventful Valentine’s Day at home without me.”

He scanned over your outfit, consisting of a simple buttoned blouse and a pair of jeans. What caught his eye the most was the frilly, laced brown and pink apron tied around your body. You must have bought this specifically to get in the spirit of Valentine’s Day because this was the first he’s seen you in this. Normally you’d wear those plain cotton aprons while you were cooking. Not something so charming and—dare he say—refreshing.

As you were continuing the conversation—going on about how vanquishing criminal organizations was more productive than whatever you were concocting at home—your words faded into the background. Shouto found it hard to focus on what you were saying, while your animated gestures seemed to enhance the shape of the apron against your body, emphasizing your physique.

Recalling the story you just mentioned, he imagined what the scene of you frantically dashing around the kitchen would look like as you wore this cute thing. Was it weird of him to hold fantasies of arriving home, being greeted by your endearing self donning this garment, dolled in its intricacies with a smile gracing the lips he oh so wanted to kiss every day?

Shouto would think so. He’s never heard of any anecdotes of this kind of behavior before. Perhaps it was how dainty and frilly the material appeared against your figure that stemmed such a risqué thought from him. If that was the case, then this apron was no different than lingerie. Or more specifically, those delicate lace babydolls you’d wear for him on those special occasions, in which you displayed the zenith of lust and vulnerability that rendered him a man ensnared by his need to utterly ravage you–

Fuck. Letting those imaginations cross his mind was a dangerous move. He felt himself getting hard, body exercising the willpower not to pounce and concede to his fantasies. Then again, no one could really blame him for thinking of his girlfriend this way on Valentine’s Day. Especially when you looked so damn cute right now that he could just eat you up.

“Shouto?” Your voice diverted his attention from the growing problem in his pants, though only for a moment. When his focus returned to you, all those lascivious thoughts buried in the back of his head made their way to the forefront again. Damn, did he have it bad.

“Is something wrong? You were zoning out for a bit.”

He shook his head, dispelling your concern. However, it was going to take more than that to sweep away the lust consuming his mind. “It’s nothing. More importantly, why don’t we continue tasting these chocolates?” Pulling up a stool, he took a seat next to the kitchen counter.

Just as you were going to mention that you needed to start on dinner soon, Shouto suddenly drew your body in between his parted legs. Thrown slightly off-balance, you instinctively held onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

You couldn’t help but notice the hand traveling up your legs as it situated itself on the back of your thigh, but the detail was abandoned as soon as it was manifested. The proximity between you two was too much not to overlook now. Shouto peered up at you with what you made out to be smoldering intensity, and the sight reduced you to shying away from his eyes again.

Of course, Shouto didn’t take a liking to that. With you so close, he didn’t want anything hindering his front seat viewing of your candid reactions. “Baby, look here,” he called to you. You followed his command, turning back to face the grin reaching his lips. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You attempted to open your mouth to reply but found another ball of marbled chocolate placed where words should’ve been.

Soft lips wrapped around him, Shouto had to fight back the urge to groan, feeling your tongue graze the pad of his thumb as he fed you the candy. His other hand, formerly occupied with rubbing subtle circles on your clothed flesh, wandered to the satin ribbon of your apron fashioned behind you.

It wasn’t long until you discerned the game he was playing through the fiery looks and frisky touching.

Well, enter player two.

You brought a hand to his wrist, keeping him there as your tongue made work at licking away the residual chocolate melted on his finger. You moved from his thumb to his index finger, noting not to miss anything with every flick as you confidently returned the heady expression with batted eyelashes.

Shouto breathed in silently through his nose, gritting his teeth, your sultry actions having an innate effect on him, to which you smirked at. There was a slight tug on the ribbon wrapped behind you. It wasn’t firm enough to where the knot came undone, but enough that you noticed his fixation on the material. If he was making an effort to exert some self-control, it was futile at this point. No doubt, he was going to take you before Valentine’s Day was over.

“Hmm, you’re right, these chocolates are pretty tasty. But it’s probably because you’re the one feeding them to me that they taste just soooo good,” you mused, adding a sensual tonality to your voice as you concluded your words with one last kitten lick.

The man before you bit the inside of his cheek, your voice alone making blood rush south. You little minx. He was going to make doubly sure you understood just what you were doing to him.

Finally releasing his hand, you reached over beside you to grab a chocolate off the parchment paper. “For you~” You giggled as you led the confection to Shouto’s mouth. He readily accepted your gift, lips wrapping around the tips of your fingers as the mellow flavors soothed his taste buds. He made a point of re-enacting your little show, tongue languidly lapping your fingers while he maintained steady eye contact. You shuddered at the wet warmth abiding your skin, the suffocating sexual tension in the air causing you to press your thighs together. The action was not overlooked by Shouto, who smiled amidst cleaning your fingers with every brush of his tongue.

“What’s wrong, love? You were so bold and talkative earlier. Cat got your tongue or something?” he teased. A smirk ran across the curl of his lips as his licks turned to kisses he planted on the back of your hand.

After finishing his task of lapping up every essence of sweetness off your skin, he lifted himself from the stool. Doing so made him stand tall over you, and he easily cornered you to where your back met the edge of the counter. Your wrist captured in one of his hands, he wove an arm around you, pulling your body into him.

“You know, there’s something I want to eat right now other than chocolates,” he confessed, forehead pressed to yours and glinted heterochromatic eyes latent with an insatiable hunger. The baritone of his voice sent shivers through your body and a throb aching in your core.

You innocently tilted your head at him. “Oh, is that so? And what would that be?”

He chuckled darkly at your redundant question.

“Why you of course, my love.”

The moment the words reached your ears, he lunged forward to seize your lips. You quickly followed in the sensual movements of his soft lips against yours like it was a practiced routine, not resisting his tongue prying its way into your mouth and submitting to the dance that made pleasure course through your veins.

A single tap on your thigh was your cue to hop into Shouto’s waiting grasp and wrap your arms around his neck. You pulled your bodies closer to where the few layers of clothing you both possessed did nothing to hide your enthusiasm for each other. You could feel your nipples under your bra stiffen at your arousal, growing more sensitive as you pressed your chest to him. Meanwhile, his hard erection shamelessly poked the inside of your thigh to which his grip was poised on remaining firm, grinding your lower half against him.

You expected this was where he intended to have you—right then and there in the middle of the kitchen—but to your surprise, Shouto had other plans. He navigated you two to the dining table as you continued feverishly making out with your legs wrapped around his waist. Never breaking the hot mingle of your lips, he carefully placed you on the edge. His hands were free to roam the expanse of your body, palming at places that elicited airy moans from you as he inscribed the niceties of your bonny apron into his memory. Though he cursed the unnecessary layers that obscured your beautiful flesh from him.

Finding the clothes still on you equally unbearable in the heat of your movements, you were on the same wavelength as him. You sought out the satin ribbon tied behind your back that kept the apron on your form, but before your fingertips could even reach the material to tug the knot loose, Shouto seized your wrists and led your hands away. Your face was scrunched with bewilderment by how sudden his actions were.

Shouto didn’t think he could have a fetish over something as ordinary and domestic as a decorative garment tied around your waist, but this Valentine’s Day was proving him otherwise. He was not about to pass an opportunity to absolutely ruin you in this pretty thing.

“Keep it on,” he ordered, voice deep and commanding.

“H-Huh? What about my clothes?” you stuttered, confused at first. You wanted to ask what spurred him to give such a demand, but you were too caught in the moment to think of objecting to his request (not that you had much choice anyway).

“Let me.” That was all he said before his hands sought after the waistband of your jeans and the buttons of your top. He pulled and undid the apparel until you were left in only your panties and that lovely apron. Your bra was quickly disposed of to the pile next to his feet thanks to the clip being located at the front this time, and he was eternally grateful for the convenience. You didn’t even have to mention anything for his own clothes to float above yours on the floor, sitting back on the table to admire his toned physique, now free for you to ogle in just his briefs.

His hooded, icy eyes concentrated on every aspect of your appearance. He didn’t dare miss a single detail in front of him—from your bare, flushed skin glowing beneath the light fixture to your aroused nipples shaped through the thin fabric. You were a sight Shouto would gladly worship for the rest of his life.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my love, and I’m going to enjoy ravaging you until all you know is my name.”

His words alone were enough to send a tingle of anticipation to your cunt. You did not shrink at his assertiveness, instead embracing both yours and Shouto’s desires with open arms.

“You have me, Sho. I’m all yours.”

The man released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding before inhaling and diving in. Your lips reencountered each other, continuing from where you left off with his tongue chasing after you. You laced your fingers in his soft hair to press him deeper to you as Shouto navigated down your neck. He sucked and licked at your skin; every tug he felt on his scalp compelled him to lay marks as he inched closer and closer to your breasts.

“Ahh.. Sho…” you mewled, feeling his hands grope one of your mounds and tease your slit through your panties. With no intention of letting this apron off your body, Shouto pushed the fabric concealing your chest inward to reveal a perky nipple, seeming excited to be covered by his mouth. Well, who was he to deny such exuberance, especially when he himself was hungry to taste?

Lips enclosing the stiffened nub, Shouto sucked and prodded with fervor. As you squirmed and squealed beneath him, your fingers pulled harder at his strands which he hummed in content at. The tip of his tongue circled your areola, making the slick clinging to your panties damper at the stimulation. The hand occupied between your thighs stroked you against the fabric before pulling it to the side to touch you directly.

“Oh fuck!” you cursed at the contact as Shouto did not hesitate to start pumping a finger into your pussy.

“Damn, you’re so wet down here. Did my kisses and teasing do all this?”

You were too distracted by the precise movements of his fingers working through you to answer, words superseded by your wanton moans. “Keep making those pretty sounds, love. I want you to cry out as I’m ruining you.”

Your noises hit a crescendo when his fingers began curling inside you, stretching into places that lit stars behind your eyes. His thumb rubbed your clit to intensify the fire building in your abdomen. Your back arched on the table as you grabbed onto Shouto’s free hand for dear life, already feeling that flame ready to ignite.

“Sho– Wait, I’m gonna–”

“Don’t hesitate, sweetheart. Coat my fingers with your cum,” he told you, increasing the speed of his thumb against your bundle of nerves as he continually hit that euphoric soft spot.

At his words, your pussy clenched hard around him, practically sucking him in. You threw your head back against the table, releasing a loud cry of his name as your orgasm engulfed your whole body with electrifying pleasure. Chest heaving up and down, your breaths sounded ragged as your vision went white before slowly adjusting to the light.

Shouto slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking at the layer of gloss. He observed your fucked-out state from above and admired his handiwork—your lips swollen, eyes glassy, and sweaty skin adorned with his marks.

“You taste absolutely delicious, you know,” he said almost too sweetly, like he had immediately gotten drunk off drinking the remnants of your orgasm. And, of course, he had to let you know how delectable you were. Shouto provided you a sample by pressing his fingers to your lips. You obediently parted them, welcoming your essence on your tongue.

“Don’t you think so?”

You hummed and nodded in agreement. Shouto grinned, bending down to mix your flavor in each other’s mouths. He finally removed your ruined panties and slid them down your legs. But to no one’s surprise, the apron stayed on your person.

When you parted, Shouto gestured for you to get up from the table. In doing so, you had anticipated this would be the time to head straight to the bedroom, but the night continued to prove you wrong. Shouto was still famished.

“Stand up for a second, baby. I want to lay down as I have my meal.” You didn’t need to guess to know just what he wanted to satiate his appetite tonight.

Shouto laid himself flat across the table, the majority of his legs dangling off the edge. You, on the other hand, were apprehensive at his approach, cautiously wondering if your modest dining table could handle the rampant motions of two adult bodies on top of it at once. Should the legs give way and the table collapses, the gravity of your descent would put all your weight onto him. What if you hurt him as a result?

“Love, what’s the holdup?” your boyfriend called, breaking your train of thought, “Come, your throne awaits.” He patted his chest—a rather peculiar place to sit but your cunt pulsed at the image of you riding that gorgeous face of his.

“O-Okay, I’m just afraid of hurting you, is all,” you said, pulling at the hem of your apron for security.

He raised his upper body halfway to see the hesitance painted on your features. “Y/n, there’s no need to worry, I wouldn’t have thought of doing this if I couldn’t handle it,” he assured, his hand reaching out for you. “Trust me. I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You stared at the hand hovering in front of you and then at Shouto’s eyes glimmering with faith, and you knew you could trust his word. So you take his hand, climbing onto the table and over his body where you straddled his chest.

“Dining tables are meant to be eaten on, right? Well, I intend to devour you until your legs are shaking beside me, sweetheart,” he promised. He stroked up and down your thighs tauntingly. Your breaths hitched as he maneuvered you above his face, moving the flap of your apron so you could feel his cold breath against your lower lips.

“As much as I appreciate all those confections you made for me, they all pale in comparison to the sweetest delight here–” He uttered praises to your core while rubbing the soft flesh of your thighs. “This pretty, soft, and dripping pussy.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks at his lewd words and how close in proximity he was to your twitching center. The one thing you detested about this apron at this moment was the fact it blocked you from what Shouto was doing, the bottom half lying right above his face. To him, however, it made everything all the more entertaining.

Despite being the one trapped under you, it must have felt like you were more in the dark than he was. After all, he was the one asserting dominance in this situation, and with a layer of fabric hiding his face, you had no idea how or when he was going to eat you out. His deafening silence was not offering you one bit of reassurance either. If he truly intended to devour you atop this table, he should just do it already.

“...Sho? Are you—Ah!” Upon questioning him, your words were choked by your surprised squeal, feeling him delicately kiss your folds with chilly lips attached to your warm pussy. You opened your mouth to speak again, yet you struggled to search for words as Shouto’s tongue flattened against you, licking a long strip before latching onto your sensitive pearl. The more he relentlessly sucked and teased, the more you sang out with waves of pleasure quivering through your body.

Hearing your beautiful noises, he chuckled, tongue vibrating on your clit. Every sound you produced made his cock stutter, still leaking and begging for attention beneath his briefs.

Not liking how inactive you were—simply sitting on his face and waiting for yourself to come undone on his tongue—you reached behind yourself to trail your hand down his abdomen. His body tensed, abs immediately flexing at your soft touch. You noticed his ministrations falter in their rhythm.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” he questioned, pulling himself off of you to concentrate on your hand running along the waistband of his briefs. His fingers dug into your flesh as you found his length, tentatively giving it a pump that gave birth to a strained noise below the flap of your apron.

“You’ve been doing all the work so far, Sho. I just want you to enjoy yourself,” you said. His eyebrows were scrunched, hissing through his teeth at your thumb grazing his slit, mixing his precum around the tip.

“I am enjoying myself—this is all I could ever ask for,” he replied honestly. He lifted the frilly material off his face so you could discover your slick running down his lips and neck, the blush spread across his fair cheeks an more than sufficient indication that he derived nothing but delight from being in this position. He looked like an absolute mess, yet the debauched sight made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“But if you want to join in, I won’t stop you.”

At that, Shouto detached himself from your sweetness for just a second to quickly reposition you above him. You were adjusted to where you were practically on all fours on the table now, facing the prominent bulge raised on his briefs while your fluttering cunt was somehow even more obscenely split in front of him. You were thankful the piece of furniture stayed intact throughout the motions, pleasantly astounded by its strength. However, you couldn’t pause to be impressed by this detail for long. Not when Shouto’s aching erection pleaded for you to continue touching it.

Your hand returned to its original place—wrapped around his heavy length that wept with precum coating the surface of its mushroom top. As you stroked it up and down in a consistent rhythm, you altered your grip to tighten more around him.

“Ooh yeah, that’s it, baby. Just like that… Ahhhh, fuckkkk—” You were rewarded by his praises and groans at the splendid pressure surrounding his dick. It encouraged you to keep up your pace and add another hand to the fray to increase the tension.

“You’re doing so well, making me feel so fucking good, love. Can you add your mouth for me now?” he requested, and you happily complied. Your tongue flattened against his cock, noting every vein and twitch running across your wet muscle that reduced Shouto to muttering obscenities behind you. Reaching the top, you swirled your tongue along the tip before taking the entire head into your warm cavern. Shouto’s thighs flexed, body almost trembling at how heavenly you made him feel. He couldn’t be outdone.

You let out a whine on his cock, feeling his mouth working against you again. This time you felt the effects stronger than before as Shouto spread your pussy lips to grant him better access to tongue fuck you. He stimulated every sensitive area with practiced ease, making sure to flick your clit with extra vigor to achieve the best results. You delivered in your reactions—legs shaking and knees slowly and deliberately being reduced to jelly.

Even ensnared in ecstasy, you did your best to adapt to his intensity, engulfing him more into your mouth. Your hands worked together to maximize the most pleasure you could give him, fondling his balls and gripping the base of his cock.

The lewdest of sounds filled the room in an unrelenting symphony. From your muffled whimpers to your pussy squelching in the presence of Shouto’s mouth purring against you, there was no shortage of bliss evident in the atmosphere. Hearing yourselves in the throes of rapture as you devoured each other’s whole beings like starved animals, you two were simultaneously climbing toward your highs.

“Shit, keep doing just that baby, and I’m going to paint that pretty mouth of yours white,” he warned half-heartedly. You purred, the enthusiasm laced your tone informing Shouto you wanted him to do just that. He was pleased by your response.

“You want it, don’t you, you slutty girl? Well, I expect you to drown me in your honey while I cover your throat with my cum then.” Those were the last words he spared you before proceeding to manifest them into reality. His hands dug themselves in the flesh below your ass cheeks, exposing your pussy to his appendage that swiped away at your clit until shockwaves made you tremble above him.

You were the first to come undone, juices running down your thighs and boyfriend’s chin. Your cries were muffled amidst Shouto’s dick caught down your throat, tightening around his length, which surged with spurts of white all over your mouth. You swallowed every single drop of his seed, wiping at the excess on your lips as you released the hero’s cock with a loud pop.

After taking a moment to catch your breaths, you carefully moved off of each other. Shouto steadied you on his lap, letting you straddle him as he sat on the edge of the table. He intertwined your fingers through his and brought them to his lips to place a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Shouto. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[writer-akihiko]

TW First year students x fem! MC who's secretly a demon princess, who will they react to her powers when they found her in her demon form?

First Years + DemonPrincess!MC

I had fun with this prompt in general, and I hope I made some fun scenarios that you like!

Warnings: Bullying from other students and hurtful words, Epel is censored because Vil doesn't allow it

Sebek Zigvolt

He forgot to give you back your notebook from class, so he had to go in the evening

If Sebek remembered correctly, in his 'I'm A Good Boyfriend' notebook, you said you usually rested in the evening

"YN, I'm here to deliver your notebook!-"

"Go away Sebek!"

He was appalled. You've never scolded him in such a way before!

He quickly fished out his notebook, and he flipped to a page where Lilia had lectured him on what to do when you were feeling down

"Here it is…" He muttered

He barged in your door, breaking down the rickety door, "YN! I am here to comfort you!"

"S-Sebek?!"

He almost dropped the notebook. He was surprised at you appearance, as he saw horns on your head, as well as tattoos on your skin that he's never seen before

"YN… You're…"

You sighed. "Yes Sebek, I'm a dem-"

"You're a Fae! Like me!"

Before he got too excited, you settled him down and explained your appearance

He felt ashamed of himself for his initial behaviour when you explained that you were a princess. He doesn't really mind that you're a demon, in fact, he understands you more as people of his world usually misunderstands Fae-kind

In general, he's quite amazed anytime you demonstrate your powers

He lowkey wants to see you and Waka-sama have a showdown with magic, but his heart knows it'd hurt to see you in danger

Ace Trappola

He got held back by Professor Crewel due to some argument he got in with Grim

He asked around if anyone else saw you, but much to his shock, he found you surrounded by some other students. Again

He wanted to pummel their faces in, but now looking at you, you seemed calm…

In the blink of an eye, a net of dark magic appeared underneath the students, trapping them at their ankles

Ace had his mouth open as horns and wings similar to the colour of your hair started growing from you. What freaked him out more was that the wings weren't made of feathers… They looked ripped apart and made of the same magic he couldn't identify

"A-Ace!"

Upon seeing your boyfriend, you flung the students away into the Garden with your magic. Someone would find them later…

"U-Um… This…" You got embarrassed, feeling shy in your demon form

"THAT WAS SO COOL!"

Ace then pestered you to tell him where you learnt such magic, although he might've accidentally grabbed your horns the wrong way

He listened carefully, since it caused you such discomfort when he touched your horns

He didn't think you'd be a princess…

"Wait… Does this mean you have a demon father?"

You nodded your head. "But my brother's the Demon King at the moment… Why?"

"I need to mentally prepare myself if your demon family want to kill me since I want to propose to you after graduation…"

Deuce Spade

You and Deuce were nervous, since it was a magical mana exam. It would dictate certain classes you'd be able to take next semester…

You were the last to go, and your boyfriend cheerfully waved at you as he gave a thumbs up. He must've passed the test…

You had to remind yourself to control your mana, otherwise you'd have some explaining to do

As you let the teacher examine you, you couldn't help but notice that there was some kind of barrier around the orb you were practicing with

As you removed the barrier, you realised that it was a trap by the teacher!...

You couldn't help but pour your normal amount of magic into the orb, which, put on a show around the students as they marvelled at the dark magic

"Well," Principal Crowley announced, after you were done with your examination. "You'd best be coming with me."

After a long talk with Crowley, you were surprised that Deuce and Grim were at the door, eavesdropping at your conversation

"I overheard… I was worried about you…" He admitted

Deuce however, was quite curious about your appearance, so after his and your dinner, you allowed him to see you shift into your demon form

He did ask if it hurt, to which you shook your head

He admired your wings and your bigger, claw-like hands as you felt heat in your cheeks by the way he was intensely staring at you

"Y-You're adorable…"

Even though you towered Deuce's height in your demon form, it didn't stop him from giving you your usual goodnight kiss on the forehead

Jack Howl

He always wanted to show off his skills to you, so he invited you to a practice match against the Diasomnia dorm

He was against the first years of the dorm, so you silently cheered for Jack

As you were continuously impressed by Jack's speed, you couldn't help but notice a strand of magic tagged on him…

Your magical vision traced it to one of the students on the opposite team, who was passively reciting a spell to jinx Jack's next move

There was only the seniors… So it should be fine to stop that student this once…

You were too slow, as the spell had already whizzed through the field. You could still stop it from hitting Jack!...

You felt everyone's gaze on you as you interrupted the spell. Knowing that your appearance had changed, you shied away

Some students ran away, but Jack didn't. He picked you up, horns, feathers and demonic body parts, all of it and embraced you

"Hey! Stop looking at my girlfriend like she's a monster!" He growled

The seniors quickly punished the student causing tricks on the field, but some were still weary of you

Jack put you down, kissing your forehead. "Thank you precious for saving me there."

Eventually, you had to explain to the teachers what you were

Some dorm leaders grew afraid of you, but Jack didn't care. You were still his precious girlfriend

So what if you both were seen as monsters? He thought. The big bad wolf and the terrifying demon princess could live in peace and quiet, in their own space in the forest…

Jack thinks the whole thing is cool, but he is a little jealous that your magical abilities are so much better than his. You tell him he makes up for it in his physical strength

Epel Felmier

You and Epel were taking a stroll, on the way to the field for the MagiShift club

You promised to cheer him on, and you decided it would be a cheeky way to take some photos with your Ghost Camera

You comfortably sat next to Jack as you got ready to take some photos

Unfortunately, you weren't sure of the exact details, but a student decided it was a perfect opportunity to set off a prank near you and Jack

You weren't exactly in control of your own powers, so the impact caused you to scream and lose control of your appearance

The other students screamed in turned, seeing a 'monster' transform in front of them

Epel saw the prank beforehand, but he couldn't run fast enough to get to you

He couldn't think straight, he just had to make sure you were alright. So when he overheard the students yelling at you, he threatened them

Everyone was freaking out at your changing body, since your skin had different markings, almost like carvings etched into it and a pool of dark magic flooded below you

"I-I'm sorry I-" You tried to apologise, but others constantly berated you

"She's a freak! Someone seal her away!"

Epel couldn't stop himself from whacking the student who said that on the head

The other seniors managed to calm the students down, sending them away

You briefly explained everything to Epel, repeating your apologies to him

"Don't aplogise YN. Those idiots don't understand."

Epel, in all honesty, didn't care if you were a demon princess or a human or a fairy

Whoever got in the way of your relationship on the other hand, he'd pick a fight with them even though you were the one who could easily clean the fight up

"Hey YN, don't listen to em. They don't know how cool you are. As long as I'm the one you love, I'm okay with anything."

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[yesimwriting]

Corridor Moments

A/n this is a request from @mariannagris for a fic with the Darkling x Sun Summoner! reader where they're having a cute moment and then Zoya walks in and sees that they're together and gets jealous.

I'm working on a longer fic that should be up this weekend!! I'm working through a bunch of requests/updates rn I promise lol

--

He's no longer guiding me, but he hasn't moved his hands away--one on my waist, one on my shoulder.

"Aleksander," I try to keep my tone casual, only hinting at a warning.

There's no way he misses it, but he still allows the hand on my shoulder to ghost across my collar before setting his palm on my cheek. "Yes, my sun?"

Before I can roll my eyes, he brushes his thumb across my cheek softly. His touch has started to become more casual, but I'm not sure the comfort it brings me will ever lose its novelty. I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.

"We're not alone." The reminder is more for me than him. All of his actions are intentional, he knows the risks of his sudden bout of affection. "We may be in an empty hallway now, but we're not alone."

Aleksander leans forward slightly, forcing me to press my back into the wall to avoid melting into him. I don't miss his half-smile, a confident smirk breaking across his features. He knows what he's doing. "And what would we need to be alone for?"

The slightest hint of annoyance bubbles in my chest. For someone so determined, he enjoys playing coy more than he should. My lips part, prepared to call him out for his teasing, but Aleksander senses my hesitance like always. He leans forward again, this time pulling my chin up slightly so that our lips could brush together if I just inclined my head slightly.

The closer we get, the more I feel our distance. His eyes flicker downwards, focusing on the slight part of my lips. Aleksander angles his head downwards, allowing our lips to meet fully. Now that the barrier's been broken, I have no choice but to reciprocate with full force, my hands leaving his chest and finding their way into his hair. Aleksander's hands grab the collar of my kefta. He pulls me towards him sharply, as desperate as I am to eliminate space.

And then he pulls me away. I'm left pouting on instinct, lips slightly swollen and breathing a little uneven. "Easy," he chides, "We can't afford to get distracted."

I wrinkle my nose at him. He started this, pulling me out of the meeting under the ruse of important, private conversation. "And who's the one doing the distracting?"

Aleksander smiles fully. A real grin, the kind of grin that rivals any amount of sun I could ever produce. "You," he breathes, leaning in again and brushing his lips against my cheek, "Considering you won't leave my thoughts."

I let myself grin back, his unexpected softness an arrow that pierces through whatever's left of my composure. "You're awfully sentimental today."

He straightens slightly, expression still light. "Is that a bad thing?"

Squeezing the hand that he's placed on my waist, I beam at him. "Not bad at all--just different."

He's still looking at me with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me due to its wholeness, but something ancient and dark is settled behind his eyes. Something haunting that he won't let me help him with. I haven’t known him that long, but I’ve figured out that his affection is often a secret plea, a silent attempt to rid himself of darkness. What's the point of being able to summon the sun if you cannot banish the darkness that haunts those you care about? I raise his hand to my mouth, kissing each of his knuckles deliberately. He exhales at the contact, some sort of tension coiling in him at the chaste contact. 

I like us better when we’re alone. When he lets things like this slip from him as he tries to let my light in him. I could stay in this corridor forever with him. I could hold him by his hand to make sure he can’t slip away from me. 

Reality does not allow me to coddle my dreams. If I lose focus, he’ll be able to convince me to do anything--to forget my own name even. I drop my gaze to the hand I’m still holding, running my thumb along his knuckles. “We can’t--we can’t stay.” Not the truest sentiment--he can do whatever he wants. “I can’t stay.” The correction leaves me bitter. “Not for long.” The addition only softens the harsh edge of reality slightly. “People are already starting to think you’re extending favoritism towards me.” 

Aleksander lifts the hand I’m holding, taking my hand with him. He turns my hand over before placing a kiss on my palm. The contact is warm and fleeting and I’m powerless against the sentiment it stirs. “And this isn’t favoritism?” 

I roll my eyes, his warm breath is still against my skin. “That depends--am I your favorite?” 

His hold on my hand tightens slightly. “You already know the answer.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. Aleksander has already offered me more than I expected today, but it’d still be nice to hear him say it. “You, my darling, my sun, will always be my favorite.” 

I beam a little easier, warmth expanding in my chest. Still, the feeling isn’t enough to burn through all of my reluctance. His affection stems from the fact that he believes me to be his salvation. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. How else could i have won his affections? 

“It’s easy to favor a Sun Summoner,” the response is soft, a bit of forced teasing edging my words. 

His eyebrows draw together as his hold on my hand tightens, turning from a gentle squeeze to a desperate grab. “Sun Summoner or not, no one else has ever held my favor the way you do.” Aleksander leans towards me again, the comforting heat of his breath on my cheek. “And no one ever will.” 

I’m reduced to nothing more than happy neediness, letting him cup my face and pulling me towards him. His lips meet mine with a desperate understanding that’s both bruising and coddling. Aleksander’s teeth graze my bottom lip, testing waters that are unfamiliar between us. I reciprocate, pushing even closer to him. He pushes us backwards, pressing me against the wall as he moves his attention away from my lips and down my jaw, leaving a trail of hot skin wherever his lips brush. 

“Aleksander,” I breathe, placing a hand on his chest, “Meeting--we need to--” 

He pulls away just enough to let me feel his grin, “That can wait.” 

“They’ll think things,” Despite my warning, Aleksander doesn’t pull away, his fingertips brushing against my collar. “They’re waiting,” he sighs against my hair, still careless, “Alina--she’s waiting...” He continues to touch me like I’m an illusion of the light. “And--” He smiles at my waning resolve, attempting to move forward to silence the last of my protests with a kiss. 

I turn my head, suppressing a reluctant laugh at his carelessness. Aleksander is not discouraged, pressing a kiss against my cheek. Shifting my gaze while placing my hand on his chest to make it easier to push him off fo me, I freeze. He must feel my new stiffness, because Aleksander pauses against me.  

Zoya. She’s standing at the entrance of the corridor, watching us--watching me--with such a sharp look of ill-defined displeasure I’m surprised I’m not physically withered by it. Awkwardness and something akin to guilt leave me blind as I try to create space between me and the unbudging General. Does he not see her? 

“Yes?” His voice leaves goosebumps against my skin--not an ounce of shame, but not a drop of that easy-going softness either. He’s General Kirigan again--sharp and incapable of shame or regret. He’s in complete control, all the power in the world is at the fingertips that are still on my skin. 

Zoya’s expression does not waver, eyes still locked on me. “Those in the meeting were beginning to worry, but I see that you’re occupied.” I was wrong. She’s not staring at me, she’s staring through me--like I’m nothing more than a thin curtain on a cloudless day during high noon. “I’ll inform the others.” 

“You’ll inform them of nothing I don’t approve of.” He’s fierce, the threat of venom apparent in each syllable. “And it’d do you well to meet the Sun Summoner’s gaze with a little more respect.” 

I’m quick to grab his forearm, desperate to articulate how much I’d rather him not pick this fight--not when most can barely stand me, not when the more I think of Zoya’s look I realize any bitterness towards me is something else. Not hatred, no--resentment. The kind of resentment that’s only ever a byproduct of something else. If I was bolder, I’d assume it a look of jealousy--maybe not over the man, but the attention and praise received for being nothing more than new and shiny. Her eyebrows knit together as Aleksander’s hold on me adjusts slightly. Okay, maybe the fact that I’m with Aleksander has something to do with it--but it has to be more than that. Her dislike of me, her constant myriad of comments and looks all points to a jealousy much more bitter than that of someone love sick. 

If something in her has been broken over time here, time around Kirigan and his pension for manipulating that I am not blind to and my presence and joy is a reminder of that, than I can bear her hatred. “She was looking at me normally.” Before he can challenge me, I move his hands off of me gently and slip away from between him and the wall. 

I guess that’s what it takes for him to understand that I mean it, Aleksander straightens and takes a step forward. His eyes linger on me as he walks forward. I stay a few steps behind him, a pathetic attempt to cling to any kind of properness I can manage. 

“If I were you, I’d at least comb your hair with your fingers before entering that room again unless you’d like to announce yourself as a form of entertainment.” 

Being a decent person is nauseating sometimes. “And take the fun out of it for you?” 

I don’t wait for her reply, moving down the hall to catch up with Aleksander. Still, when I’m no longer next to Zoya I brush my fingers through my hair in hopes of correcting any damage she’s created. Maybe I should be more worried. Maybe I should care about the opinions of others more. But every reason to stay away from Aleksander entirely feels so small. I’m not naive enough to fall blindly, but the thing about being a Sun Summoner is that you can bring light with you, no matter how dark the path you chose is. 

I watch Aleksander as he places a hand on the door to the room. He offers me one last, genuine smile. His path isn’t as dark as he wants it to seem, and even if it is, I don’t care. 

[ragingbookdragon]

All The Small Things...That Show How Incredibly Pissed She Is

Batboys x Reader HC/Imagine

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Here's some humor for y'all at the end of the semester. Enjoy! -Thorne

Dick:

Dick wasn’t a fool. He might seem like that to some people, certainly anal-retentive supervillains and seasoned superheroes who weren’t particularly impressed by him, but even if he paraded a bit of thick-headedness (Batman’s influence) every now and then, Dick wasn’t a fool. And he sure as hell realized when she was angry at him.

Well, angry wasn’t the particular word. She wasn’t angry, and honestly, in the entire year they’d been dating, he’d yet to see what would even made her fume. But sure as shit, if she didn’t get annoyed at things, and right now, he knew it was at him. And really, the only reason he did realize it was because she didn’t stick a note in the thigh pocket of his suit before he left on patrol.

It was something foolish, she’d said when he came home and asked her about it the first time she did it. A simple little folded paper, the same kind that hung on their refrigerator for the grocery list. All it had said was, “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee—good luck out there, Dickie!”. When he found it, he about busted himself at the seams from laughing so hard, but at the same time, he found it endearing that she had left it for him to find. That had been on a Friday night and every day of the week leading up to it, she put a piece of candy in his pocket, saving Fridays for the little notes. And this Friday he didn’t find a note—he knew she wouldn’t forget, and that was all the clue he needed that she wasn’t happy about something.

And so, to remedy it, he picked up a bottle of red wine and a dozen red roses—sue him he’s a romantic—ready to do whatever she wanted to fix what he’d messed up.

Jason:

He didn’t hate the color pink, but he didn’t wear it unless it was a particular occasion, or unless the shirt he liked was pink. Most of Jason’s outwear wardrobe consisted of black and blue jeans, dark and white shirts, combat boots, and leather jackets. His outfits screamed, “I’m the epitome of ‘Bad-Boy’.” And most of his leather jackets were dark, so he typically wore white or light gray shirts, so it didn’t blend.

They shared chores in the house—he cooked most nights, and she did laundry; they both cleaned the apartment. Jason looked in the dryer for a white shirt because it was white’s day the night before and found a whole load of white shirts that’d been dyed pink. Of course, at first, he thought it perhaps an innocent mistake, but when he pulled the load out and found a single red sock, Jason knew he was in the doghouse.

He pulled on a baby pink shirt and grimaced at how tight it felt on his body—so she was really mad because she must’ve washed these in hot water because they’d shrunk two sizes. The thought of asking what she was mad about crossed his mind, but he figured he’d be better off figuring it out on his own and fixing it rather than having her tell him.

Jason was a grown man; he could figure it out himself—the only bad thing was that Jason, in all his glory, was still a man—and boy did he have trouble telling what his lady was mad about sometimes. Ice-cream, he figured. Dutch Chocolate Ice-cream and bourbon was her go to when she was upset—hopefully, she wouldn’t throw his underwear in the wash before he got back from the store.

Tim:

He’d long grown used to being stared at, considering the fact that when he was a young child, and an academic prodigy at that, people liked to examine him like he was a lab rat. So, at first, her way of communicating that she wasn’t pleased with his course didn’t occur to him. Of course, when he finally turned his attention from his laptop screen and caught her cocked eyebrow and unimpressed look, Tim couldn’t stop the flush of crimson that split over the bridge of his nose as he babbled an apology.

She usually responded with a grunt of recognition, but it was anything but amused or interested. And he’d flash that dopey grin and kiss her knuckles until her eyes filled with humor rather than annoyance. And then he’d go back to his laptop and the process would start all over again when he finally realized she was boring holes in the side of his head.

The only time she wanted to prove she was mad at him was when she’d pull out her phone and do those stupid, “Which Member Of The Batfamily Are You?” and she’d do everything in her power to not get “Red Robin”, typically getting “Red Hood” because she knew it’d make his jealously bubble in his chest.

And then Tim would slam his laptop shut and toss her phone off the bed with it and yank her down onto his bed, coiling his arms and legs around her like a cage, while she giggled relentlessly and teased him about being “green with envy”.

So really, while it usually started with her being mad, it became a “How Much Can We Annoy The Other Before We Blow?” game—she was winning so far…much to his dismay…and love.

Bruce:

His wife was outspoken and independent, not ever once requiring help with any task. If she couldn’t figure it out herself, she’d cut her own foot off before asking him to do it for her, because she knew he took that little pride in doing what she couldn’t. Their marriage was built on a foundation of love, for each other, and for their family. But that third peg was absolutely competition, and by God they were gonna prove who was the winner before they both died of old age.

So, whenever she got mad at him for anything, it would be obvious that she would announce it—but oh no, see, when she got mad, she was passive aggressive about it and she waited for Batman to figure it out. And she typically showed her annoyance through clothing.

Her favorite way to piss Bruce off was to wear an emerald green t-shirt around the house that said, “My favorite superheroes wear green!” and the stupid graphic tee had Green Lantern and Green Arrow symbols all over it. And that sadisti—lovely witch did everything in her power to make him look at it—at her.

And Bruce knew her plan of showing her irritation was working because that maddeni—gorgeous smirk always crossed her lips when he glared—stared at her. He still didn’t know what she was mad about though. Her purpose only served to show she was upset with him—so much for the World’s Greatest Detective.

Unfortunately, Bruce knew the only way to appease her would be to submit to her the entire night and let her know that she was now in the lead for their competition. Darn…and he’d just leveled the score too, and now she was one ahead…again.