#uh i hope your hands are not too covered in glue please try and have an early ish night yourself even if you don’t have a concert

[neopolpleb]

Curiosity Saved The Cat | a Micheal Myers x GN!Reader

warnings: none! Just a sweet ol thingy bout you and ol mikey meeting

A/N: Aye babies this isn’t my first rodeo on this hellsite but you’ve probably never seen my work unless you have the memory of an elephant and an obsession with Karl Heisenberg!

But! New user new me y’know. So this is my first fic as Neopleb and I hope you stick around and maybe send in some requests!

——————————

His favorite activity was to watch you. Sometimes you didn’t know. Sometimes he knew you knew, but your favorite was when he didn’t know that you knew.

You were used to the iconic Micheal stare. I mean, dating this seven foot hunk of a killer for a few years meant you had to get used to it or it just wouldn’t be pleasant for you. Thankfully, you were able to take his glares and glances but you also learned how to tell them apart.

Of course, theres the stare that fills even the strongest of men with fright as they realize their death is soon nearing when they look into the emotionless gaze that hid the truest form of evil. The Shape.

You’re grateful you’ve never experienced the full force of that gaze. You had seen it be fought off the night you two met. It was replaced with the next stare; curiosity.

The day you two met is a memory you cherish, but of course your logical side always is ringing in the back of your head “HOW THE FUCK DID I SURVIVE EVIL FUCKING PERSONIFIED???” or something along those lines.

The answer was simple, you intrigued him. Micheal had never seen anything like you. He couldn’t understand it. The shape was banging in his skull telling him to kill you right now. Finish the job. But Micheal for once didn’t listen. For once in over many decades, he let his more human side take over and he just left.

Imagine the look on your face when Micheal Myers, who was five seconds away from killing you just up and walks away. You didn’t know how to react. You sat in the corner of your silent bedroom praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t change his mind about sparing you.

You didn’t want to provoke him in anyway so you cast logic to the wind and didn’t contact the police. In the weeks following the encounter you thought you had just been a miracle and would never have a run in with the masked fellow again…

Until you started noticing things. Things like, windows being open that you were sure to have closed the night before. Locks suddenly broken no matter how many times you would replace them. You tried your best to calm your thoughts but the obvious answer was basically hitting you in the face. He never let you be. He had been watching you the whole time.

Of course you freaked out, but then came the confusion. Why hadn’t he killed you? You had lived in Haddonfield long enough to hear the stories, and from what you gathered, Micheal didn’t really keep victims. Of course if they ran he’d find them again, but it was usually a quick job. So why are you still here?

That was a question even Micheal couldn’t answer. It felt like everyday was “the day he is definitely going to do it” but it never was. He just watched you. Almost as if you were a science project that he had to observe.

He couldn’t wrap his head around you. To the naked eye you were just a normal person. You moved from the city to live a quiet life, a fresh start, in a small town in Illinois. You kept to yourself. The only person who knew you by name was the usual cashier at the local supermarket. You minded your business. Yet some how you caught the eye of god’s most terrifying creation.

After a few weeks of trying fix the locks, even going as far to super glue a few windows shut, you gave up. They always found themselves open again, you came to the thought that “if he hasn’t killed me yet, why am I to be so worried?” Which on your part isn’t the smartest, but no one ever said you were the sharpest knife in the drawer.

It was a silent night it February. You had fallen asleep on your couch after a long day of studying for your exams. You hadn’t slept in over 20 hours, and you were out cold, so you didn’t hear the creak of the back door opening.

Micheal stalked in, as silent as ever. Hiding in the shadows as he mapped out his plan to finally end you tonight. He headed towards your bedroom, expecting you to be there asleep in bed as you usually were. He stopped as he spotted you passed out on the couch. Half your body was hanging off the side and there was a pencil stuck in your hair.

He stared at you again, the curious gaze returning as his plan slowly faded from his mind. You were an enigma. How did you capture his gaze like this, why did he push everything aside just to watch you. You were just another victim. Another body. Another object to him. Why is his mind seeing you as something more.

The thing that pulled him from his thoughts was your body slamming to the ground after just a bit too much of you came off the couch. He quickly hid in the shadows of the hallway, planning his escape as you tried to get your bearings after your rude awakening.

You rubbed your head, groaning as you slowly stood. You waddled over to the kitchen to get a glass of water before chasing the lingering sleep to your bed. You felt his gaze, you had become more aware of it once you had given up on shutting the monster out. You grabbed a cup from the cupboard and filled it was tap water. The stream filling the glass was the only sound that could be heard throughout the house.

You leaned back against the counter as you sipped the water. Glancing around the room hoping to spot your watcher but you as always, you never could. You sighed shaking off the gaze and setting the cup in the sink before heading towards your bedroom.

You made it halfway towards your hallway before you spotted the silhouette in the shadows. Your brain was yanking at the reigns of your body to run, hide, call someone, ANYTHING. Yet you just… stood there. Not as if you were frozen in fear, but as if you were having a staring contest with your intruder.

You took a deep inhale and let it out in a sigh before you continued your walk to your room. You knew that this could possibly be your final moment, but it was almost 4 am and you were still incredibly tired. So with logic to the wind, you walked past Micheal who kept his gaze on you the entire time.

You couldn’t see his face, but it was contorted in pure confusion- Why weren’t you running? Why weren’t you cowering in fear. He stared in shock as you reached your bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

Your hand grabbed the knob turning it gently, before glancing back at the man who now stood on the opposite side of the hallway, still watching. You opened the door slowly, turning back to face him.

“… Theres uh- Theres leftovers in the fridge. Spaghetti. You can have some if you want, just put the plate in the sink when your done please.” You spoke quietly, before quickly closing the door to your room. Immediately jumping under your covers as if you were a child hiding from the monster in your closet, but you knew even a child wouldn’t be dumb enough to offer a monster DINNER.

You squeezed your eyes shut and cut out the world as you let sleep take over, hoping to awake the next morning.

You did in fact wake up the next morning, your bedroom door was left open, which you let go quickly considering the fact that you were still alive. You slowly crept out to the living room, glancing around to make sure your visitor hadn’t stuck around. You didn’t see anyone, or feel any gaze so you walked to your kitchen feeling more safe.

There was a bowl left on the counter, you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “Dude breaks into my house, eats my food, and I ask him ONE thing and he can’t even do it? Unbelievable.” You fake being dramatic to yourself, as you set the bowl in the sink and begin making yourself breakfast.

You begin cracking eggs into a bowl when you hear the creak of your back door opening. You pause momentarily, before continuing your cooking. A few silent seconds later and you feel the familiar gaze resting on the back of your head.

You continue your cooking and point to the table,

“If you want breakfast sit down and it’ll be done soon” it came out more confident than your offer last night and you hope that you didn’t anger him. Thankfully, you hear a chair being pulled out and you take a glance to see Micheal sitting, his gaze still locked on you.

Sometimes you still wonder why he hadn’t killed you. He doesn’t talk much but in his more talkative moments he joked that he only kept you around for your food. Though in truth sometimes he doesn’t really know the answer. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Hell he didn’t even believe in love period before he started hanging around you. Yet something about you stuck out to him, but he has a lifetime with you to figure it out.

[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[weirdestbooks]

Love (Part 2 of the FrUk Request) Oneshot

Second part of MynameisAppleUWU's request. Please excuse my probably bad attempt at writing romance.

France POV

This couldn't be happening. We only did it to spite America, to annoy him! It was just a joke and probably wasn't officially recognized by any government! So why was this happening? Why now? Why was I developing feelings for Britain?

Maybe this was just a temporary thing. I should try and distance myself more. We had been forcing ourselves to interact for the sake of getting along, but maybe that was a bad idea.

I can't be in love with Britain. I'm the French Republic! I was Britain's enemy for years, and before that, my mother was! It was a family tradition to be an enemy of Britain, even though we get along with Scotland. I can't be the France that falls in love with Britain!

I was pulled out of my panicked thoughts as I heard a knock on my door.

"LA FRANCE! Votre mari est ici!" (FRANCE! Your husband is here!) Saint Barthélemy yelled. I groaned. Why did Britain have to show up while I was having a crisis? Why couldn't he just leave me be?

"Dis-lui qu'il doit partir! Je suis occupé par quelque chose d'important. On pourra se forcer à s'entendre une autre fois!" (Tell him he needs to leave! I am busy with something important. We can force ourselves to get along another time!) I yelled back. I didn't want to see Britain. Because if I saw him I know I wouldn't be able to ignore what I was feeling.

Saint Barthélemy didn't respond, and I hoped that meant he had managed to get Britain to leave.

"France?" I heard Britain ask as there was a knock on my door. I groaned. Why didn't he leave? Why did Saint Barthélemy let him in?

"I thought I said to leave." I snapped.

"I would, but this isn't a forcing ourselves to get along thing." Britain said, his voice sounding slightly off, as if he was saying something he didn't want to.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Political stuff." He responded. I groaned again. This was not something I wanted to deal with right now. But, yet, even with my reluctance I opened the door.

Britain was standing there, holding flowers. My heart skipped a beat. Did he feel the same way?

"Sorry about the flowers. Wales glued them to my hands and no one would take them off." He said. I internally berated myself. Of course he doesn't like you. How could you even think he would?

"I can help you take them off." I said, walking over to grab a pen, thinking that it could possibly help me.

"Merci, France." Britain responded. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow. He smiled sheepishly, "I do remember French. It used to be the lingua Franca, remember?"

"It's still odd hearing you speak it." I said, grabbing one of Britain's hands to try and pry the flowers off. They were lilies, with a few irises. I smiled on seeing them. Those two were some of my favorite flowers.

"These flowers are pretty." I commented as I tried to get the glue off of Britain's hands.

"Just like you." Britain muttered. My face turned a deep red and I pulled away. Britain looked confused, before his eyes widened.

"Agh! I'm so sorry France! It just-just slipped out!" Britain insisted, stumbling on his words, and looking like he still wanted to say something.

"It's alright." I said, trying to hide my blush, "Any other declarations you want to make?"

"I think I'm in love with you." Britain blurted before he looked away, blushing as he put his still flower covered hands over his face. I stood there, stunned, unable to think of a response to that.

Britain returned my feelings. He actually returned my feelings. My feelings weren't just going to be something that I felt but never acted on. I could actually be in a relationship with him. That would be such a big "fuck you" to my mother too. I hope she hates me even more in the afterlife after this.

"France?" Britain's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"I-uh-Britain!" I quickly stammered out.

"I know I made this weird. Sorry abo-" I cut him off

"I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"...oui, I do." I said. Britain sighed, and then smiled brightly.

"Then these are for you." He said, holding out the slightly crushed flowers and blushing slightly.

"I thought Wales glued them there?" I asked, taking as many as I could with the glue still there.

"I asked Wales to glue them there. Just in case this went badly." Britain said. I laughed, and Britain's blush darkened.

"I will never understand your family." I said.

"You're technically a part of it. Because we're married. And both have feelings for each other. And could possibly start an actual relationship. If you want to. Because just because we both have feelings for each other doesn't mean we have to, especially with our history." Britain rambled.

"I have a feeling I'm going to owe Wales money for this, but yes. Yes we can...you know, start an actual relationship." I said, cringing at how awkward I sounded.

"Yes! Okay. Yes. Uh, does this mean we're dating?" Britain asked.

"I think so." I answered.

"Okay good. Good okay. Uh...I've run out of words." Britain said.

"Glad I can render you speechless."

"France!"

"What did you want me to say?"

"I...I just..." Britain said before covering his blushing face with his hands.

"I just think you're adorable." I said, filling in his statement and laughing at how embarrassed Britain got.

"I..." Britain started, but trailed off.

"I'll let you wrap your head around things. We can have an official first date tomorrow or something." I said, to Britain's nod.

"That sounds nice."

"WE CAN ARRANGE IT IF YOU TWO WANT!" I heard Saint-Martin yell. I blushed too.

"Have your colonies been listening?" Britain asked in an embarrassed, strangled tone.

"I think so." I said in the same tone.

"I knew I shouldn't have told Saint Barthélemy what I was doing."

[tracybirds]

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops.

Dealer’s choice

Oops, Christmas got in the way but we're on the other side now so I picked this back up again :D also <3 this remains one of the funnest styles of prompts to have gotten to do so hope you also enjoy!!

---

Vellichor: The strange wistfulness of used bookshops

It was the same in every city. It might take time, peering through dusty windows and combing the old, sidestepped alleys, but she always found what she was searching for.

A tiny bookshop, its wares crammed into bins and trays and spilling out into the street. Second-hand, of course, with history within the pages made of real paper, not the strange substitute they used these days for antique replicas. The door, propped open by yet more books gave way to stacks that towered over her head, seemingly chaotic in their arrangement until you grew to knew the person who ran the place.

Stepping inside, seeped in the smell of old glue and the soft, sweet hint of vanilla underneath the pages, Sally knew when she had found her way home.

One foot in the door and she was pulling titles off of shelves with her grandchildren, bending down to sound out the words carefully together.

A glance back at the outside world and she was waving goodbye as her husband took their children to the cinema, content that the shopkeeper wouldn’t mind her quiet presence.

She could almost feel the tug at the crook of her elbow and a laugh bubbled out of her chest as she and Grant pulled each other around the little shop, intent on sharing their favourite memories held inside each story.

Looking up in awe, taking no notice of the claustrophobic creep of the books practically falling out of the shelves and into her arms, just like when she was a little girl herself, clasping her mother’s hand with wide eyes and a promise that one of these would be hers, for her very own.

Somehow, once again, Sally had fallen back into a world of wonders, surrounded by old friends who sang out from between the pages, and she could only smile that same eager smile that had never changed across the years as she ran a fingertip across the spines, the earnest smile unchanged across the years.

“Do you need anything?”

She glanced over at the young teenager manning the shop, already staring out the window again.

“What do you recommend?”

He started, blinking at her with the astonishment that said no-one had ever bothered to respond to the rote greeting.

“Er, well, I don’t know if you’d like it?”

“Nonsense, young man, I won’t know unless I try it.”

He beamed at her.

“Well, okay then. There’s these guys, see, and they have these cool, like, mecha-machines and they all have to team up to fight a bunch of aliens from another world. But they all get destroyed and they have to take up flying all these old planes and stuff.”

He looked down, picking at his nails, the sudden ray of excitement fading as he recalled himself.

“I dunno though, my sister hates it. Too much action, no real surprises. It’s not a great book, I guess.”

She smiled, trying not to laugh at the idea of an action-packed adventure story like he’d described ever putting her off.

“What’s your name?”

“Kyle.”

“Well, Kyle, do the good guys win?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Is it a fair fight?”

“Duh.”

She nodded.

“Show me the way then.”

A shy smile broke out over his face as he slipped off his stool and led her to the back of the cramped room, dodging carefully between the stacks.

A thin paperbound book was placed in her hands and he swore as the cover ripped under her touch.

“Oh, uh, I mean shoot ma’am, I mean, I can order a new copy?”

He clutched at his beanie.

“Please don’t tell my grandpa I swore at you.”

“Saying a swear word and swearing at someone are two distinct issues.” She grinned. “But no, I won’t tell him.”

She turned the fragile book over, noting the way the pages had loosened from the glue. Well-loved and well-worn, like all good books.

“Is this the copy you grew up reading?” she asked, thumbing the stained pages open.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have the holo though, and it comes with pictures.”

“I can’t take this one then.”

“No, no – please do!”

“This is your book.”

“It’s not. I just read it a lot.”

She stood still, caught between his insistence and her uncertainty. She of all people, understood that the power of a book was sometimes more than just the power of the story it contained. The way the pages fell open to a favourite scene, the smell of stale coffee from reading in the early morning, how the edges softened over time.

“I’ll buy it,” she said softly.

He smiled broadly and then his eyes faltered, nervous energy clear in his eyes.

“Would you… would you come back and talk with me about it?”

She stuck out her hand and he took it, shaking with the know-how of a kid who knew how to strike a deal on his grandfather’s behalf.

“Name the date.”

***Three Months Later***

Kyle’s jaw dropped as Sally Tracy waltzed back in with his book in one hand and a startled man, still in his distinctive blues.

“This is my grandson Virgil,” she informed him. “I read your book, and then Virgil borrowed it, so I thought he might enjoy joining us.”

“Grandma,” he hissed, looking mortified. “I thought I was just dropping in to pick you up; I haven’t showered.”

“Nonsense, you’re fine.”

“Are you really with International Rescue?” Kyle asked, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool!” He turned to Sally, still beaming. “No wonder you thought you’d like it!”

A million questions, one great discussion and several cookies later (Kyle’s treat), and the two left, laughing and waving and making promises to read another old favourite before meeting again.

Kyle grinned as he watched through the window, thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind the time spent in the old shop after school now, knowing that his new friends would be coming back to see him.

He glanced down, finding the book still laying neatly on the counter and leapt up to call after them.

A roar filled the air, dwarfing his yells and he was forced to retreat as Thunderbird Two flew overhead.

The cover had fallen clean off and he reached down to retrieve it. At the very least he could return it next time, newly repaired.

As he flipped the flimsy material in his hands, he noticed an inscription.

‘Dear Kyle, I knew this book was yours from the moment you led me to it. I thank you for the wonderful time we had reading it, but it’s time it was returned to its rightful owner. Please consider this a gift, an old friend given back to a new friend. Sally Tracy’

[mizunetzu]

I recommend you read this right after the first part. Enjoy <3

Tag: @inlittleways

——————

Shinsou x reader - Love Trigger (pt. 2)

⚠️warnings - sad shinsou :(

Pronouns - male, he/him

you can find the first part here!

——————

“You’re in love.”

It made perfect sense. Even if he denied it then, he couldn’t deny it now. He couldn’t decide if he fell in love with the lovey-dovey illusions of the (h/c) haired boy plaguing his mind, or if he wanted him even before that. Even so, one fact was abundantly clear.

He was so desperately in love with (L/n) (Y/n) and he made the biggest mistake of letting him slip through his fingers. It was like tasting the sweet fruit of affection, just to have it ripped away for your stupid actions.

Aizawa coughed into his elbow, trying to get Shinsous attention. He was staring devastatingly at the ground for far too long now, and he wanted to get back on his lunch break. Shinsou slowly raised his eyes, his legs following and bringing himself up to his feet.

“I...gotta go do something. Thanks.” He stumbled out of the faulty room, leaving two confused teachers and a very tired homeless looking man.

Once Shinsou closed the door to the teachers office, he started sprinting. He heard the distant shouts of the uptight blue haired boy from class 1-A, and even passed by his very confused friend. They all sounded like gibberish to him.

He stopped infront of the doors to the 1-H classroom. He didn’t know much about Hatsukoi, but he knew that she ate lunch in her class with her classmates every lunch.

He slammed open the door, startling the 3 girls, as he stomped his way over to the girl in question. She had her feet propped up in the table, and was twirling around a heart shaped cookie in her fingers.

“Deactivate your quirk.”

No response. Hatsukoi wouldn’t talk to him anymore, he figured she knew he was going to brainwash her into deactivating. Hatsukoi took a bite out of her cookie.

Her cockiness was starting to really piss him off. He was tired of have such sweet, vivid hallucinations of (y/n), just to be brought back to the fact he ruined something potentially beautiful. He slammed his fists on the table, making the two girls beside her yelp in suprise.

“DEACTIVATE YOUR FUCKING QUIRK! STOP GIVING ME GAY ASS DREAMS ABOUT (L/N)! I’M SO SICK OF IT!”

Hatsukoi stifled a snicker, and scribbled something on a sturdy napkin. She drew a tiny heart on the corner, then held it up with her bright pink nails. Shinsous heart stopped.

‘I never said I could specify what or who you dream about. Nor what emotion you feel. You did that all by yourself. <3’

Shinsous mouth went slack, ears reddening in embarrassment. Her two friends started giggling at his expression, while Hatsukoi held her signature, bad bitch grin. She flipped the napkin on its backside, and scribbled something else on it.

Shinsous throat closed up.

‘He sits on the rooftop at lunch now. On the third bench on the 2nd wing. Good luck xoxo <3’

He took the napkin, shoved it quickly down his pocket, and bolted out of the classroom. He heard Hatsukoi yell out a “bye bye~!”. He could’ve brainwashed her then, but he had to get his priorities straight.

He dashed up the stairs leading up to the rooftop. Even if (y/n) didn’t love him back, he just needed him in his life. It didn’t matter. He just wanted him to be by his side a little longer.

His legs stopped him in front of the rooftops door. He drew his hand to reach for the doorknob, but that froze aswell. He grit his teeth, yelling at himself to fucking move, but his body remained in place.

His legs felt like jelly. His body was covered in a cold sweat, and butterflies emerged from his stomach. He was nervous. Right on the other side of this door was the very boy he’d been having such intimate hallucinations about. He hopes it won’t get in the way of apolo-

The door swung open before he could react. A figure bumped into him, stumbling back and holding his head with a frown.

It was (Y/n). Oh god, it was so nice to see him up close. Even his frown looked angelic, and his hands looked so soft. The one thing that irked Shinsou though, was that the bento he was clutching was wrapped in a white cloth, instead of his usual, purple one. It was like him telling him that he didn’t need him anymore. It hurt way more that it should’ve.

(Y/n) broke into a cold sweat, and waved awkwardly. “I-hey...Shinsou...”

His voice dripped with honey. Without thinking, Shinsou grabbed onto (Y/n’s) arm and yanked him into the rooftop. All sense of rationality flew out the window.

‘People and their stupid emotions is what makes them idiots.’

Shouts of protest emitted from the (H/c) haired male, but Shinsou kept dragging him. Hell, even him shouting at him sounded heavenly.

‘They think with their feet instead of their head.’

“Shinsou-stop!” Shinsou ignored him, and cornered him onto a wall. He pressed his hand onto the smooth surface, using his other hand to hold one of (Y/n’s) wrists. His skin was so warm.

‘Sure I appreciate people who think I’m attractive. If it feels good, that’s ok. That’s all.’

(Y/n) squirmed and wriggled under Shinsous grasp, yelling at him to stop and using his white-cloth bento box to try and push him away.

‘Instead they cry and cling onto me, it’s seriously annoying.’

Shinsou scowled and ripped the lunchbox away from (y/n’s) free hand. He unwrapped the ugly white cloth, and ripped it to shreds, tossing aside the bare lunch box.

“Hey! Why’d you do that! S-stop it!” (Y/n) pushed at Shinsous chest, grasping at his tie.

‘I can’t understand that sensibility.’

“...why are you stopping me?”

Both his and (y/n’s) movements stopped. It was like pressing pause on a YouTube video. Shinsou had a look of desperation, one that made even (Y/n) feel bad.

Shinsous eyes watered involuntarily. “You..you would always complain when I wasn’t with you, so why is it any different now?!”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened. Shinsou was quiet for a moment, (y/n’s) pitiful gaze suddenly becoming too much to bear. He grasped the fabric of his grey blazer and pushed him up against the wall.

“Stop looking at me like that! S-say something! What do you want me to do? Aren’t we friends?!”

The purple haired boys voice cracked with every other word, tears falling freely down his hot cheeks. (Y/n’s) eyes widened, but he continued to stay silent.

“...I’m not leaving.” Shinsous voice was barely above a whisper, as if any louder he’d break down crying. “Y-You’re the one who can’t befriend people correctly.”

Shinsou cast his head down, tears flinging and cascading in the air. He gripped (y/n’s) blazer tighter. “Y-you’re...you’re the one who clings to me and sticks to me like glue...”

Shinsou brought his head up, suddenly pulling (y/n’s) blazer towards him in the process.

“SO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY!”

Shinsou brought the boy into a hug, clutching onto (y/n) like a lifeline. (Y/n) placed a hand on Shinsous shoulder. “Shinsou...”

“I’m not leaving.” Shinsou squeezed him tighter, furrowing his brows together. “I’m never gonna. Even if you grow uninterested in me, ev-even if you hate me, I’m not leaving!”

Shinsous voice was raspy with tears. “So don’t hate me...please I-I can’t...”

A hand placed itself on the crying boys waist, followed by two arms wrapping themselves snug against his waist.

“...why do you say ‘hate?’, Hitoshi-kun?”

Shinsou looked up. He called him by his first name for the first time in a while. He broke the hug, choosing instead to rest his hands on (y/n’s) shoulders. He tentatively wiped his face with his sleeve. ”You...you started ignoring me and avoiding m-“

“That’s not it!” (Y/n) looked worried, grasping Shinsous hands and squeezing them tightly. “At first, i was going to give you a day before I’d ‘bother’ you again so you wouldn’t hate me, but then I caught a really bad cold!” Shinsous eyebrows unfurled, his expression changing from despair to realization.

“Hitoshi-kun is...very precious to me a-and I didn’t want you to get sick! I’m sorry for avoiding you...please don’t cry...”

“...god, if you were sick you should stayed home...idiot...” (Y/n) brought a hand to his cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had freshly rolled down the males face. Shinsou cupped his hand, nuzzling into the warmth with his face. “I’m sorry, Hitoshi-kun.”

“Don’t apologize, please it’s-it’s my fault...I’m sorry, I won’t say stupid stuff like that again...”

(Y/n) opened his mouth to speak, when Shinsous eyes blared pink once more. However, this time, his eyes didn’t conjure up a fuzzy illusion of (y/n).

Instead, his mouth began to move on its own.

“I love you.”

The pink faded back into its normal purple color, as the two boy stood there in silence. Shinsou slapped a hand over his mouth, all the color draining from his face. If this was what ruined their friendship after he just got it back...

“I...”

“You don’t need to say anything, I said it on accident I’m so-“

(Y/n) buried himself into Shinsous shoulder. He brought his head up to Shinsous ear, and whispered with a smile,

“I love you too.”

—————

The lunch bell rang, cutting off the teacher and sending a chill down Shinsous spine.

He was in the middle of packing up when his friend stopped by his desk. “Ne, ne, you seem happy today.”

Truth be told, Shinsou was. But his face was harboring it’s neutral frown, so he was honestly confused as to how he could tell. Nonetheless, he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head.

“Well, I have a date today. I’m kinda excited,”

“Hold on a second!” His friend stared animatedly at the boy. “You? Person who rejected about 100 confessions, has a date?”

“Yea. What about it?” He walked up to the trash can and dropped a broken pencil inside, his friend flocking to him.

“Nothing nothing, who is it?!”

“Uh-I’m meeting up with them for lunch, so you can come see if you’d like.”

“Awesome!” They stepped out the door, immediately being swarmed by a boy with messy, (h/c) hair.

“Good afternoon, Hitoshi-kun!” (Y/n) wrapped his arms around Shinsou neck, burrowing his head into the crook of his shoulder. Shinsous friend was about to say something, when a Shinsou dipped down and kissed (y/n) on the forehead.

His friends jaw dropped to the floor. “I-Huh?! WAIT! WAIT! SHINSOU, I DIDN’T KNOW YOUR TASTES RAN IN THAT DIRECTION?!”

“To be honest I didn’t either,” Shinsou lazily wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, resting his cheek on (y/n’s) head and facing his friend. “Well, see you.”

The two walked away from Shinsous friend, hand in hand. (Y/n’s) face lit up, suddenly turning to Shinsou.

“Oh! By the way,” he reached into his blazer, pulling out a bento box with purple cloth and blue kitty cats. “Do you like it? It’s cute, right?Cute like my super hot handsome boyfriend~”

Shinsou blushed. “Shut up...oh, by the way, why did you have a white cloth on your bento that one time?”

“Ah. My mom said I used this one too much, and she made me wash it and stuff. It was wet before I went to school so I had to use the white one. Which you ripped by the way.”

Sweat formed on the purple haired males brow. “W-wait, so you didn’t like, throw it away because you hated me or something?”

(Y/n) tilted his head to the side. “Why would I hate you? And throw away a perfectly good wrap? It’s just a piece of cloth.”

Shinsou flushed red with embarrassment. He pinched his laughing boyfriends cheeks, mumbling something inaudible. He really overthought it.

But then again, he overthought a lot of things.

——————

Ahahshshsj

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: more Billy/Mind Flayer shenanigans, more Y/n being Not Straight™️ and slight, whatever the huffy, whiney hell Hopper was during a majority of the season

📝: yall, idk how to describe hairstyles so I'm gonna clear it up now; the hairstyle Y/n is doing on El is the coil ponytail she wears at the end in That Scene™️ 🥲🚚👋📝🛣

Yes, I regret the whole "sisters" failsafe I put in specifically to stop myself. But as it turns out, no I cannot suppress the gay. So innocent, mutual pining ahead! 🥳🎉🌈

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

A pair of sock-covered feet bounce happily on the carpeted floor as Madonna's Angel blasts through the radio on the dresser. Max jumps back and forth on El's bedroom carpet, singing into the hairbrush she had found on the nightstand. Beside her, sitting on the bed is the girl herself, sporting her new colorful look; engrossed in a selection of teen magazines that are splayed out before her.

"You must be an angel,"

El bobs her head along with the tune, careful of Y/n's hand weaving through her hair from where she's kneeled behind her on the bed. She grins up at Max before going back to her work, her lips moving as she silently sings along.

"I can see it in your eyes,"

Y/n finishes the last coil behind El's left ear, and pulls it together with the other, merging her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. After she tightens the bright blue scrunchie one last time, she mutters a defeated, "Alright. I tried," before she maneuvers around El across the mattress and allows herself to fall back on the right side of the bed, her head propped up on the rows of pillows. She grabs a magazine, boredly sifting through it while El delicately feels around the back of her head with a smile, admiring Y/n's work.

"Full of wonder and surprise,"

El's attention quickly returns to the magazine in her hands when she flips the page. She has to turn it sideways to see the whole thing. A young man, who El guessed to be just a little older than Steve, was smiling back at her.

Max's singing and dancing come to a slow when she notices El lingering on the page. With a chuckle, she discards the hairbrush from where she found it and kneels beside the bed.

"Oh, you found Ralph Macchio," Max simpers.

"Macchio?" El asks with a smile.

"Yeah," Max nods. "he's the Karate Kid,"

Both and El and Y/n jump when Max suddenly cuts the air in a mock karate chop and yells, "Hai-yah!"

They giggle and Y/n just rolls her eyes playfully. Particularly, at what comes next.

"He's so hot, right?" Max asks.

An amused grin glues itself to Y/n's face as her eyes peek out over the top of magazines to catch El's reaction. Y/n's smile spreads, buried under the pages when she sees El's face lit up in a blush.

"I bet he's an amazing kisser, too," Max says, drawing out a funny look in El's eyes. "Hey, uh,"

Y/n finds her eyes drawn to Max when she feels the old mattress dip a little under her weight. She notices a funny, almost intrigued look on her face.

"is Mike a good kisser?" She asks.

Y/n lets out an involuntarily "Blech!" At the question, discarding her magazine back to the pile with her nose scrunched up in disgust despite the smile still on her lips.

El laughs at Y/n, lightly shoving her knees that sat propped up above her as she shoots her a smile. "Not 'blech',"

Y/n has to readjust her head on the pillows to gawk up at El properly, a funny look hidden in her eyes.

"Wait, so is he like, actually," Y/n makes another face, failing to get through the sentence with a straight face. She laughs a little, putting a mocking tone in her voice. "'good' at kissing?"

El doesn't answer right away, much too confused with the direction this conversation had gone. She blushes again, giving her awaiting friends a bashful shrug.

"I don't know. He's my first boyfriend,"

Max is quick to correct her, but she does so gently. "Ex-boyfriend,"

El's face falls.

But Max is also quick to console her. She lands a gentle hand on El's shoulder, her voice going soft.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Okay?" El still doesn't seem too sure. "He'll come crawling back to you in no time, begging for forgiveness."

Y/n subconsciously fiddles with the ring pop still on her finger, a thin sheet of plastic still covering the candy diamond.

"I guarantee you, him and Lucas are, like, totally wallowing in self-pity and misery right now," Max's face scrunches up as she mocks the aforementioned exes. "They're like, 'Oh, I hope they take us back!'"

Y/n laughs, her left hand lightly smacking Max's arm, grabbing her attention.

"Yeah, but, Mike's probably more like," Max fights a sudden laugh when she catches the knowing look in Y/n's eyes. "'I hope they take us back! They have to—'"

Neither Max nor Y/n can fight the grin breaking out on both their faces as they finish in perfect sync.

-"take us back! Nyeh-nyeh-NYEH!"

Once again delightfully confused, El's stare travels between her newest best friend and her oldest; a warm feeling burrowing deep in her chest and gut, her stomach aflutter as she laughs with them.

"God, what I wouldn't give to see the look on their stupid faces," Max says, shaking her head wistfully.

El goes quiet, something neither of her friends miss.

"What is it?" Max asks.

That seems to snap everything into place, and Y/n props herself up on her hands. There's enough mischief in her eyes to match El's, and she quirks a brow.

"Wait. Are you serious?"

El only smirks, shrugging her shoulders.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Max asks, only to find herself under two impish stares.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El sits cross-legged against her dresser, the radio switched to static sitting just above her head. In her hands is the multi-colored headband Y/n had gifted to her over the holidays when her hair started to fall in her face. They both knew it could also double as a comfortable, makeshift blindfold in case she ever found herself traveling to the void again.

As she prepared to do now.

She hooks the headband over her head, pulling it down over her eyes as Y/n and Max took a seat.

"Is this really gonna work?" Max asks excitedly from where she's perched on the edge of the bed.

El nods, and Max's face lights up in awe.

"Holy shit, this is insane-!"

"Max."

"Right, quiet. I'm sorry,"

Y/n chuckles up at her noiselessly, completely understanding the excitement of it all. Particularly, since she had never once witnessed El demonstrating these powers unless it had been necessary.

Then came the waiting part.

Y/n had forgotten about the waiting.

It was all they could do. Wait as they watch El draw in a deep breath, allowing her mind to reach out to the person it had most.

She feels the imaginary water at her feet first, as she always did. It didn't take her as long as it used to to fine-tune the distorted voices cutting in and out, much like what she found her radio to do sometimes. But she did it soon enough.

She's back in the void, for the first time in a long while.

Part of her was worried it would be harder without as much practice as she got last year, but it wasn't.

The image that lay ahead of her was clear, the voices even clearer.

"What did I do wrong? What could I have done wrong?"

Mike.

He was laying on the couch. The one from his basement. El recognized it immediately.

And he wasn't alone, that much she  had suspected.

"Do I have to go through this again?" Lucas asks, sounding tired.

He was pacing around the couch, rubbing his face. Will was with them, he was hovering over the small table she had sat at only years ago.

"I see them," El says.

Max lowers herself to the carpet, sitting next to Y/n who leans in curiously.

"What are they doing?" Y/n asks.

"Eating."

The crunch of Dorito chips Mike had shoved into his mouth was loud enough to echo out across the entire void. He continues through an obnoxious mouthful.

"I just don't understand what I did to deserve this,"

El has neared them now, and she turns her head curiously to Will when he scoffed. He looked frustrated, and he sounded it too. But El could tell he was trying to fight it for the sake of his friends' feelings.

"Look, it sucks that that happened," he says. "But why don't you guys try and take your mind off of it for-"

"For the last time, Will. No! Not now," Lucas says, turning away just in time to miss the boy's shoulders slump. He back to Mike, releasing a heavy sigh. "You didn't do anything, Mike. That's my whole point. You're the victim here."

El's eyes fall back to Mike, not all sure about what she was feeling.

"I know," he cries out. "It's just, why is she treating me this way?"

"Mike-"

"I don't know." Frustrated, he shakes his head. "What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong?!"

"Mike, stop it!" Will has to yell to be heard, but his friends eventually turn their attention his way. "you know what you did wrong!"

They watch him carefully, as does El.

Just grateful to have their attention, he softens just a notch "You messed up, alright? But there's just not much you can do right now,"

"He's right," Lucas sighs, bending over to move Mike's feet out of to make room before taking a seat. "I mean, we told the truth and everything,"

Will let out a bitter laugh. "No, you didn't! You got caught! You told them you were shopping for them, but that's it. You still kept lying about your Nana,"

Max and Y/n watch El carefully, the only indication something had happened came from her angered sigh.

"They lied about Nana," she says finally.

"Oh, I knew it," Max hissed.

Y/n merely placed her forehead in her hands tiredly as she waited for more information.

"But we still tried! That's gotta count for something," Mike cries, stuffing more food into his mouth. "I mean, shouldn't that count for something?"

"Mike, relax. Just... relax," Lucas sighs into his hands yet again, clearly exasperated. "And stop asking rational questions."

"I know, I know. You're right," Mike sighs. His expression quickly turned bitter as he sent his friends a sour look. "Because women act on emotion and not logic,"

"Precisely," Lucas nods. "It's a totally different species."

El's breathing grows deeper and for a moment the pair of friends fear the worst. But the truth was, while El didn't quite exactly know what they were saying, she knew it was foul.

"They say we are 'species'."

-"What?"

-"Come again?"

"'Emotion, not logic."

-"What?"

-"Come again?"

Will shifted on his feet, looking unsure as to what to say, or if he should at all.

"Will is upset,"

Y/n scoffs, looking between Max and El. "He should be if they're saying that shit." She fires, worry briefly taking over her anger over the doubtful thought seeded in her mind. Quickly she leaned forward.

"Wait, he wasn't saying that was he?"

Relief sweep over her when El shakes her head.

She finds her eyes on him again, looking as if he was trying too hard to fit in and not say the wrong thing. El hadn't known him for terribly long, but she knew enough to realize this shouldn't be normal.

"Guys," he says, his eyes darting to the small table he had been setting up. "Come on, it's ready. You already said you'd play a month ago when Dustin got back. I've been planning ever since! And I really think it'll help take your mind off of all this."

Lucas groans.

"Will! We already told you. Not right now," he shakes his head as if scolding a small child.

"They are upset with him."

"Why?" Y/n pressed, sharing an equally concerned look with Max.

"They broke up with you, what else is there to talk about?"

"Easy for you to say, you still have a girlfriend!" Mike throws back.

"'Easy for Will to say,'" El repeats.

Y/n could only imagine what they were putting Will through right now. Or just what her words could mean. Her guilt from having to cancel weighed heavier and heavier.

"He says..."

They all watch, El included, as all his frustrations boil over.

"Well, none of that matters now, does it?!"

Shocked at his outburst, Lucas and Mike break into matching, sour grins nevertheless.

"Then join us, Will," Mike says, sharing a smirk with Lucas. "Join us in trying to figure the greatest mystery of all; the female species!"

"What? What's he saying?" Y/n asked.

But she receives no answer. El had fallen quiet.

El cocks her head, her glare thrown to each boy like daggers, feeling an anger of her own. As well as a protectiveness.

That didn't last long, however. Not moments after, Mike seemed to be challenging his own foul behavior. His mouth opened up wide, letting loose a deep and billowing belch.

"Dude," Mike laughed lazily, gesturing around him as he grinned up at his friends. "You can smell the nacho cheese,"

El recoiled, her upper lip hooking in a grimace both in and out of the void.

She's relieved to see even one of them disgusted by his antics — Will, but it doesn't change her annoyance. But it was better, and far less confusing than Lucas who broke out in a sly grin.

"I get that beat,"

"What?" Mike mumbles in between picking his teeth with his tongue.

Baffled, El looks to Will again whose face pales. He quickly shakes his head, his words pleading.

"Oh, no."

"No, Lucas," Mike says, jumping in. "No!"

El watches curiously as Lucas's grin stretches wider — "No, Lucas!" — and he lifts his right leg — "Lucas! LUCAS!" — and...

El stumbles back in shock when the sound hits suddenly. It echoed louder than the burp had — far louder — and only grows louder as Lucas lifts his leg higher.

El rips the headband off her head to reveal her widened eyes, her shoulders moving and falling in a panicked-like state.

Never blinking, her mouth still wrenched open in shock, she turns to gape at her friends.

"What happened?"

She didn't answer.

"Are you okay?" Y/n pressed, fearing the worst.

She breaks out in a grin, a fit of sudden giggles sent her slouching into the carpet and her head landing in Y/n's lap. Max and Y/n welcomed her reaction with open arms, her infectious laughter spreading to them despite the utter bewilderment they were feeling. Y/n looked down at her friend, trying not to laugh.

El managed to peel her eyes open long enough to see Y/n's crooked smile poking into her view of the ceiling and she loses it all over again.

"What?" She laughs.

"What happened?"

El clutched her aching sides. Every time she tried to speak, the silliness of it all stole her words all over again.

It had been completely revolting and

angering. But it was also the most fun she'd ever had in that horrible place. This also being why it was so hard to wipe the smile from her face.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Will stumbled back as far away as possible from the massive stink cloud he was sure would drown him. Mike had stumbled off the couch, waving at the air as Will buried his nose in his shirt.

"Oh, man," Mike groans. "what the hell, Lucas?"

"Come on, that was impressive,"

"So was Will," Mike shoots him a knowing smirk. "Finally realizing the frustrations of the female species,"

"That wasn't what I said," he shakes his head, growing angrier by the second. "I said it doesn't matter if I have a girlfriend or not right now cause I can't see her! Both of us have to clean up your messes and it's the same reason why we missed our six month anniversary last month,"

Both Mike and Lucas wince. "Congrats?"

Will sighs, throwing himself in his seat at the D&D table.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The cabin's front door was nearly thrown off its hinges as an inebriated Hopper stumbled across the threshold. The door slammed shut behind him, shaking the room as he huffed and puffed. Several times he nearly lost his balance just standing still, but despite the blurred vision and numbed senses he could still make out the muffled radio from his daughter's room.

That wasn't good. At least, that's all Hopper could comprehend right away before he pieced together why; that always meant Mike was here.

And the door was shut.

"Hey!" No response. "Hey!"

The ache of rejection and embarrassment he had been feeling all night had been drowned in bottles of wine from Enzo's, numbing a great deal when Joyce had failed to show. But it couldn't quite extinguish his anger, and that was all that was left now. And he had no problem channeling that into this moment.

In his drunken state, he manages to march across the living room without stumbling into anything and his voice rises behind his gritted teeth.

"When I say three inches, three-"

A small yelp and a short burst of hot hair stinging his sweating skin and knocking over the lamp on the desk was the first thing he registered after the boom of the door being busted open. Before him, was the sight of El and her friends lounging across her floor, flipping through magazines and gawking up at him.

He realized then what had happened judging by Y/n drawing in a deep breath, and dropping her head into her hands. She had clearly been especially startled being so close to the door and had inadvertently created a mini shockwave that swept across every loose item in the room. He could hear her cursing into her hands as Max glared up at him.

"Do you knock?! Jeez!"

"Yeah!" El repeated. "Jeez!"

At that moment, Hopper couldn't remember a time he had back-pedaled so quickly. He could hear his slurred words stringing together a nervous apology.

"Wo-wo-oh, hey," he gulps. "I'm sorry."

The three girls continue to gawk up at him from the floor.

"I thought that, uh-,"

"If you were expecting Mike, he isn't here," Y/n said.

"We wanted to have a sleepover," El says, still beyond excited at the thought of having one since Y/n told her about them almost a year ago. "Is that...okay?"

"Yeah,"

The word fell out of Hopper's mouth before he could will it, his entire demeanor melting away in relief.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," he said, his voice going higher than normal as he stumbled through the tension. "Your parents know you guys are here?"

"Yup," Max says, and Y/n nods.

Blazing through the past few moments, or at least attempting to, Hopper waves his arm dismissively and his slurring intensifies.

"Uh, yeah, it's cool. Yeah. That's-That's really cool."

This was great! His "heart-to-heart" had worked. At least the way he did it. He couldn't count on his hands the number of times he had asked El about the others; silently hoping she'd take the hint and get him out of long, awkward discussion. But she never had, she only went on about Mike, and the more the summer stretched on the less he heard about Y/n or—

"Did you need something?" Max asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He hadn't realized he had been just standing there, swaying slightly and zoning out.

He was overstepping. He could see that now. And not just because of the embarrassment written all over his daughter's face.

"No, no," he says quickly, shaking his head and making a lazy grab for the doorknob. "Uh, I'll leave. I'll just let you... I'll leave you..."

His voice trails off before being swallowed completely when the door shuts with a click. For a moment, Hopper just stands there processing it all.

A smirk hooked his lips.

No Mike.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pride Month Resources and Links

168 Ways to Donate in Support of Black Lives & Communities of Color

Save The Tears: White Woman's Guide

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Taglist:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @peeperparkour @ba-responds ​ @bibliophilesquared @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things4 @kpopanimegirl ​ @nightbu-g @lozzybowe @gizmofishersupremacy @spiderbitch69420

❥ Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist! ❥

[colossal-fallout]

Historia x fem!reader where historia has a secret sex dungeon and when the reader comes back from a risky expedition with the scouts, historia takes her there and fucks the reader silly (bonus historia like to be called mommy😏)

I love anons minds. Truly, I do.

Service to your Queen 👑

Warnings: 18+ NSFW. Dom Historia X Fem reader. Mommy kink.

"Your majesty. The survey corps have returned."

Queen Historia stood gazing out of the window, longingly. She belonged here in the palace; to keep the law and order of the land.

But god's, did her heart belong out there...

Out there fighting for freedom. Out there where returning home is not a guarantee but glory awaits you either way. Out there where you were, opposing the immense oppression of not only the titans, but of the fellow human beings across the ocean. The ocean that was almost mythical to her at this point - she still hadn't witnessed the wonder of the edge of her world.

"Is that so?" She replies, turning her head slightly; her rose tinted lips parting.

The meeting went well.

Historia had all of her old comrades around a huge polished table, one in which the strong scent of varnish would sting your nostrils. Whenever her old team would come to the palace to report and strategize their next move it warmed her heart. She kept them under her roof in the luxurious rooms and made sure they were fed well and pampered. After all, they weren't only fighting for the future of her Kingdom, but they were her friends.

Then there was you.

"Y/N." She pulls you aside after dinner, the room relaxed, satisfied and grateful; chatting in sporadic areas of the large dining hall leasuirely.

"Yes, your majesty?" You bow your head slightly, hiding the lustful glint in your eye.

Your lover didn't have to be queen for you to see her as royalty.

"Come with me." She orders simply.

You nod and you both slip out of the room, your shoes padding on the soft velvet carpet that centres the marble floor as you follow her down the hallway.

"I hear that you've just returned from a particularly dangerous expedition."

"Yes." You nod, keeping formalities - for now.

"I see."

She turns down a more narrow hallway one that looked slightly misplaced in the lavish royal palace.

"... Historia?" You ask, dropping the act now there was no chance of anyone hearing you. "Where are we going?"

"My new playroom."

Playroom?

You imagined her, this grown woman sitting with her crown on her head playing with dolls and combing their hair. You sure hoped she wasn't going to make you have a fucking tea party.

You reach a door when she stops and pulls out a key, unlocking it and heading inside. When you follow her into what looks like an abandoned library, she locks the door behind you.

Oh? Does she mean a playroom where she's renovating?

Her heels that are hidden by her flowing gown click across the floorboards, when she stops in a seemingly random area near the back wall.

"Did you miss me?" She asks, her large eyes gazing at you.

"Of course..."

Without replying she stomps her foot down and a trapdoor swings open seemingly out of nowhere.

"Uh..." You begin.

"Shut up. Follow me."

Grabbing a torch off the wall she begins to decend the stone stairs beneath the floor, you following meekly behind.

"You're... Not going to kill me, are you?" You frown as you sink into the inky darkeness.

A soft laugh escapes her throat. "No."

As you walk, you wonder if the royal treatment has gone to her head and she was about to show you some secret torture chamber with some Marleyan's inside. Your mind wanders into weird territory as it usually did, musing how it would feel if she had somehow got Reiner down there or Annie.

You weren't too far off with the torture chamber.

When she opened the door at the bottom there was a table in the centre of a well lit room and the wall was lined with strap ons, dildos, chains, whips... You name it.

Your eyes widen at the sight.

Oh. A playroom.

"Remove your clothes " she orders, casually undoing her royal cape and hanging it on a shabby looking coat rack.

"Um -"

"Now."

You happily oblige, your fingers not being able to move quick enough as she stands in front of you and removes her dress, her gorgeous body in all of its glory bare before you.

"Fuck..." You sigh, walking over, ready to devour her.

"No. You can't touch me." She steps back. "Lie on the table."

Your hands hesitate, wanting nothing more than to grope those beautiful tits and slide your fingers down her slit.

But she pushes you over anyway laying you down harshly before tying your hands above your head.

"Historia?" You frown but you're excited, dying to feel her soft skin against yours.

"Address me properly." She replies as she's fastening your bonds, not even looking at you.

"Your majesty?"

"No."

"My queen?"

She grabs your face and straddles you her warm pussy on your lower stomach.

"Try again."

"...Mommy?"

She bites her bottom lip devishly before rewarding you by sliding her tongue into your mouth, slowly and deeply swirling it around your cave.

"Good girl." She breathes as she pulls away, leaving you yearning for more.

She leans up and raises her arms above her head, fiddling with the grips that held in her elegant plaited bun. The shape of her body this way drove you wild; her hips snaking into her slim waist up to her breasts... You wanted nothing more but to touch her. And when that clip came out and her blonde hair spilled down around her...

"Holy shit, you're gorgeous..." You breathe, having missed her far too much.

She looks down and smirks, those small yet puffy lips being ran over by her tongue. "Theres so much I want you to do to me, y/n..." She begins, slowly moving herself up your body on her knees. "But there's a lot more that I want to do to you."

You hum with arousal as she lowers her small pink pussy onto your face, her legs by your head and her fingers gripping at your hair as she slowly rocks her hips back and forth on your tongue.

"Ah~" she makes a sound like she'd just sank into a warm bath, her eyes closing in bliss having missed your warm tongue lapping at her clit. Her hips gyrate and rock, her sweet scent filling your nose and her even sweeter taste soaking into your mouth. Her fingers flex in your strands, humming and sighing like she'd just returned home from a hard days work.

She begins to rock faster, her body been empty from you for too long, her climax already quickly approaching. Her thighs squeeze against your head, her skin muffling the sounds of her gasps which are getting more desperate.

"Y-you're not going any- ah, anywhere." She breathes, her face begining to turn pink. "Y- you're staying in here forever. Haa~ ah ~!"

Her legs squeeze you tighter as her cum begins to dribble out of her tight hole, splashing around your lips, your vibrating moan only making her feel even more in the arms of bliss. Her back straightens the view from beneath her something only a god could carve.

With a satisfied hum, she climbs off you; your face flushed and wet, your body aching for her. She stalks around to between your legs, your pussy quivering with arousal and dripping - as if crying for her to ruin you.

Her tongue laps up the bead of wetness and up your folds to your clit, circling it while caressing you thighs with her soft hands, grazing her nails softly on the insides of your legs, teasingly.

"Oh, Historia..." You pur, eyes rolling at the touch of her warm muscle.

She pulls her mouth away. "What did I tell you, gorgeous?" Her own asphyxiating lust clouding her sky blues.

"Mommy..." You moan as her slender, feminine finger circles your bundle of nerves.

"You're such a good girl." She grins before returning her mouth to your cunt, sliding her delicate fingers inside your clenching tunnel.

"Yes..." You sigh. "God I missed you. You make me feel so... Ah! So fucking good."

Curling her fingers she relishes in how good you taste, better than any meal the grand palace could ever provide.

"Yes! Mommy... Please. Let me touch you!"

Hearing that word on your own accord made something inside of her snap, a tightness in her lower stomach that had to be addressed immediately.

Removing herself she straddles you again, this time on your pubic bone, leaning forward and freeing your hands that instantly glue themself to her hips as she begins to rock and grind between your legs; the warm thick slick reducing friction but intensifying pleasure.

"y/n... Ah, yes! My brave soldier... Oh... God!" She calls out riding you, her hips rolling again and again, her tits jiggling as she pulls your nipples with her fingers.

"Yes! Fuck! Mommy! Fuck me!" You cry, your orgasm threatening the boundaries of your reality.

Hearing you say that again makes her cum instantly, her clenching cunt pushing you over your edge, rocking her harder by her waist as you leave your body and ascend into the heavens.

Your eyes flicker open once you calm down, your legs shivering, lower stomach covered in the queen's cum.

She runs her tongue up your entire body, collecting your mixture of arousal and sliding it into your mouth with a groan.

"You serve your queen well."

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ JUST FRIENDS? ❜

with Jackson ‘Jax’ Teller.

Request: Hiii Aurora! How are you? Could I request a jax teller x reader! Jax is in a really bad fight and the reader is jax best friend how is a doctor! Chiba call here and explane what happend and jax don’t want to tell her bc he knows she going to worry and the both are in love with each other and you choose the ending❤️ Hope you understand my bad English❤️ Thank you Aurora🥺❤️

BY ANON

Word count: about 650.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“I told you to not call her”.

You can hear Jax grunting inside his dorm, arguing with Tig, while you follow Chibs through the hallway. Carrying your medical kit in a hand, you come into the room with your eyebrows frowning. The first thing your eyes gets focused on are the hand pressing a cloth against his abdomen, stained because of his blood. You don't have to be too smart to know that it's because of a stab. With a bullet he would be pale. And sweating. And he doesn't look that bad. Closing the door behind your back, you kneel close to the bed to get ready.

“I'm ok—”.

Before he finishes the word, you palm his temple. He complains like a kid would do.

“Next is gonna break your nose”.

Taking off the grip, you clean his skin from the dried blood before disinfecting the open wound. Then, you stitch him up hurriedly, but having so much care. This time, he doesn't say anything more than some grunts and whinings. And as soon as your work of art is finished, Chibs and Tigs abandon the dorm to leave you alone.

“Can you, please, stop trying to be killed? It's starting to be annoying”. You say, on your way to the bathroom to wash your hands.

“C'mon, darling. I know you enjoy taking care of your damsel in distress”.

His laughs between some whimpers, make you squint at him, drying your hands. Shaking your head, you rest your shoulder against the door frame, looking at him with an incredulous gesture on your face. Getting up with difficulty, pressing again his hand over the gauze, he grabs a clean black shirt to wear it.

“I told them I was okay”. He says then rolling his eyes, coming closer to you. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you, baby girl”.

“Well, you did, idiot”. Snorting, you pucker your lips at odds.

Leaning over you, with his arms surrounding your back, he presses his lips on your forehead.

“You're the only one who can kill me”. He jokes, bowing down his head to glue his oceanic eyes on yours.

Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he guides you to his bed grabbing your hands with his and pulling himself away some inches. You don't know how he does it. How he has so much power on you. Urging you to sit on his lap, with his legs under yours, he buries his face in your neck. You can feel Jax closing his eyes, softly sighing, bristling your skin with some shivers. Then, his lips find your shoulder, covered by one of his shirts.

“Forgive me…” He whispers, roaming your back with his fingertips.

“What if I don't want to, hm?” You tease him, softly caressing his scalp. Traveling your fingers on his head, under the golden locks of hair.

Grunting against your shoulder, he moves his head to rest his chin on your chest.

“Please…” He almost bet, faking a pout at you. “I promise I'm gonna be a good boy”.

Loudly laughing, covering your mouth with a hand, you also close your eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, for sure, Jackie boy”.

“C'mon! I'm hurt. What kind of woman are you, that you don't feel any mercy for me, uh?”

“The kind of woman that doesn't believe your words?”

“I'm a liar, now?”

“Yeah… something like…”

“So, if I tell you that I wanna kiss you right now, wouldn't you believe me?” He mumbles, spreading your legs with his hands on your thighs, to make you bow down a little to his level.

You don't say anything, seeing the truth of his words within his eyes.

“Kissing your best friend is a reason to fall into hell”. You reply, after some second loss, on how blue his eyes are.

“Kissing your boyfriend is a reason to ascend to heaven”.

“I'm single”. You challenge him, tilting your head slightly.

“Until I kiss you. After that, you're gonna be mine forever, darling”.

[hawksugarbaby]

Kirishima x reader - Drag

Fluff + drag queen Kirishima

"EIJIRO KIRISHIMA!" you sprinted to his room with a crinkling plastic bag in hand while shoving other students out the way. You knocked on his door rapidly bouncing up and down "yes (y/n)?" you shoved the plastic bag in his face and grinned from ear to ear "I saw your Instagram..." his eyes shot open and he immediately started hunting for excuses "uh it was a bet? I lost a bet to mina I promise" he slowly backed up into his room trying to hide the makeup palettes on his shelf and pushing away the feminine clothes lying on the floor "make me pretty!" you pulled out an eyeshadow palette and some brushes waving them about desperately "your already pretty?" he put the brushes down hoping no one else was hearing this conversation "EI PLEASE!" you begged and he sighed pulling you inside and shutting his door loudly.

"Please don't tell anyone pumpkin" he sighed looking at his girlfriend as you bounced around excitedly "baby I will never ever tell anyone if you don't want me to" you promised and he sat you down in front of his mirror brushing the hair out of your face combing through it with his crimson riot hairbrush which you thought was adorable. He shuffled through the palettes in your bag "you got these from the dollar store didn't you" he sat the out on the marble vanity and opened them up to look at the cracked powders making you click your tongue "they weren't like that when I bought them" you said closing the palettes again quickly "it's okay I have plenty" he muttered and pulled a drawer out from under his bed which was filled top to bottom edge to edge with makeup.

"Wow, Ei that's a lot! This must have been a lot of money" you giggled and he pulled out his mint to be and misunderstood palette by colourpop and lipstick by nyx "yeah it does cost a lot but I think it's worth it" he smiled and pulled the foundation you bought out of the bag since it was your shade and he would not be letting you go out looking like a cheap whore who couldn't even match her foundation to her skin tone. "I've never worn makeup before" you admit squishing your cheeks together while he hunted for a colour corrector to go over your purple eye bags "your 17 and you've never worn makeup?" he asked and dabbed the colour corrector on thickly, your eyebags were terrible afterall "you haven't been sleeping well have you pumpkin," he asked blending out the cream under your eyes and pumping out some foundation onto the back of his hand. "Just nightmares Ei" you gave a lopsided grin and he kissed the top of your head "do you want to talk about it," he asked and started putting the foundation on your face gently, he didn't want to hurt you by dabbing too hard.

You shook your head and turned looking into the mirror instead of at him "do you need to talk about something?" he stopped doing your foundation "what do you mean?" you carefully thought of how to phrase your next sentence while he took a drink of his water "are you gay?" you grimaced when he spat his water out getting it all over you and the vanity. he chuckled "no pumpkin I'm definitely not gay" he wiped the vanity down with an old T-shirt "are you trans? If you are I'll support you one hundred per cent of the way" you put your hand on top of his reassuring him even though he didn't need the reassurance "I'm not trans either (y/n) I just do drag" he showed you a little book from his shelf and you flicked through it it was filled with pictures of him in drag and flyers and tickets from all of his shows. It did bring him immense joy knowing that if he was trans you wouldn't break up with him (sorry straight ppl) and that you had no issue if he was gay other than you not being a guy which would have been an issue.

"You look so pretty in this one" you gushed pointing to the picture of him next to a microphone and a laughing crowd and he laughed nervously remembering that night did not go brilliantly, well no it did, but that night he got caught by Mr Aizawa for sneaking out, BUT he got permission to go do his thing instead of having to sneak out "how many people know?" you asked while he primed your eyelids with a different blender "you and Mr Aizawa," he said sadly, sure he was upset that his friends didn't know but he didn't WANT them to know, that's why he lied and told them he didn't have Instagram but he was more than happy now that you knew and he no longer had to hide his passion from the person he loved most in this world "Mr Aizawa?" you giggled imagining the shocked face of your teacher when your boyfriend got home in a full face of makeup "comes to every one of my shows" he grinned and picked up a small pointy brush. "Well I better get to know Mr Aizawa a bit more huh"

He dusted the brush in a dark green and asked you to shut your eyes "so how come I wasn't aware my boyfriend is a drag queen" you asked while the handsome boy packed your crease with dark green and he sighed heavily concentrating on the powder falling onto your cheeks "I just didn't know how you would react" he said brushing the green flecks from your face "I will always accept you Ei don't you forget that" you grabbed the hand he wasn't using and squeezed it tightly while he stamped the rest of the colour in and winged the end and started buffing it out.

"I don't understand why you wanted me to do your makeup though," he said picking up a clean brush and smothering it in a pastel green dusting it lightly on the edge of the crease he had made to blend it out and went back over the dark green, "I told you I wanted you to make me pretty" you reminded him, maybe he forgot what you said when you came to his door and shoved the bag in his face "your already gorgeous (y/n) you don't need makeup," he said kissing the top of your head again while pouring some concealer onto his hand "aw Ei thank you" you smiled at him... maybe, you didn't know you still had your eyes closed "I don't really know why I wanted you to actually i just thought it would be fun" you shrugged and raised your eyebrows for him when you felt him go in with the concealer covering part of your eyelid and the outward flick and more green flecks fluttered down to your face making you scrunch up your nose "wait I'm going to sneeze" you warned him and turned away letting out an adorable kitten sneeze making him laugh "I love you more and more each day" he praised making your face turn red underneath the foundation.

He brushed on a shimmery white into the corners of your eyelid making them sparkle "(y/n) you realise that once the lipstick is on it means no kisses" he smirked and watched as your face dropped and you struggled to keep your eyes closed "YOU NEVER SAID NO KISSES!" you yelled and smacked your hand over your mouth before someone could come and check out the couples quarrel a few rooms over "what if you put your makeup on too then nothing is technically getting messed up?" you offered hoping that you could convince him. You would not be living this day without kisses it was illegal for you to go a day without kisses "what if someone see's me?" he asked picking up a limey green on his brush and moving the hair that had fallen in front of your face. "Then we say I dared you and that I bought all the makeup and followed a tutorial," you said bringing up a youtube video that looked similar-ish to the look he was doing on you "it couldn't hurt," he said and put on the lime green in the middle of your lid blending it into the white.

"I'm really proud of you Ei," you said and your lips turned upward while he applied a lighter version of the eyeshadow he used on your crease to the outer part of your eyelid following the flick upwards and blending it into the shimmery lime "why?" he pulled back to look at his work so far and smiled softly at how pretty you looked, you always looked pretty but this was your first time ever wearing makeup and he was doing it for you, something about the love he put into the makeup made you shine with beauty... and the light on the vanity made your eyeshadow sparkle. "Because you followed your passion even if you weren't sure what others would think. And that makes you the manliest guy alive" you complimented and he looked over at his poster of a crimson riot like it would somehow come to life and agree with your words "that means more than you could ever know pumpkin" you opened the eye he wasn't working on and saw him looking at his poster "plus your only 17 and you're famous as a Hero and a drag queen"

He went in with a white eyeliner cutting the crease with the pointy stick trying not to harm your eye "I hate these things" he said and grumbled something about how stupid and fiddly they are then slammed the liner on the vanity neatening up the lines a bit "wow we're almost done the first eye" he said applying the eyeshadows he used on your eyelid to your lower lashline and blended them out making them look soft and feathery and finally applied the shiny white to the corner of your eye. He picked out a tiny plastic container of tiny tiny diamonds and a tube of eyelash glue and gently pressed the diamonds onto the top of your cut crease. He used the same lash glue and put on the long eyelashes then moved on to fill in your brow.

Time skip brought to you by Autoglass repair Autoglass replace

He finished the second eye and grabbed a large fluffy brush and contoured your face bringing the warmth back into you. He grabbed a rosy blush and dusted it on and finished grabbed a smaller brush brightening your face with a greeny-blue highlighter making you glow in the white light of the vanity. "We're almost done," he said letting you know you could look forward to opening your eyes again. "But then you have to do yours" you reminded him and he hummed "it takes a quarter of this time to do it to myself" he teased and popped open a lipstick asking you to part your lips "why you gonna kiss me?" you chuckled and he leaned in close kissing you with his soft lips "obviously" and he put the lipstick on you adding some green rhinestones to seal the deal.

"Okay (y/n) open your eyes" he instructed and stood up letting you take in your face while he hunted through his wardrobe throwing stuff onto his bed "holy All Might" you leaned in close to the mirror admiring the gorgeous artwork on your face "I didn't know I could look so good in green" you mumbled and beamed at the reflection in front of you "you look gorgeous," he said coming up behind you and kissing your neck "but we aren't done yet" he dangled a green dress in front of you "so you get the rest of you ready while I get myself ready okay?" he said sitting himself down at the vanity and you jumped up and down enthusiastically grabbing the dress and pleaser heels he placed down for you and moving the wig out of your face.

About an hour later you were both fully ready

"meet my photographer," he said bringing you to the back of the dorms where Mr Aizawa was standing lazily checking his phone "MR AIZAWA IS YOUR PHOTOGRAPHER? How does he let you get away with those photo's" you whispered the last part asking yourself more than him and he shrugged "cmon after this we're going to a show" he smiled and pulled you over with him in front of the camera "Kiri can we do this like all the time?" you asked while your teacher photographer set up the camera "of course pumpkin". This would be the best photo in his book yet.

A/n: I wanted to make kiri a drag queen so I did

[xeiniex]

If this is alright maybe one where whitty has a ptsd meltdown because someone triggered it, maybe intentionally, and he runs off so ruv goes to find him and sees whitty hurt himself as an old bad habit to calming down? Nothing overly graphic. If you don't decide to do it that's cool either way I love your work!

Oh dear that is angsty. Lots of warning tags on this one to everyone reading, seriously, if anything here makes ya feel icky, have some coco ☕ and skip on by. Swearing, trauma, and self-inflicted pain in this one!

The clouds overhead that morning were fluffy, perfect for gazing up into as they sat outside the cafe. Ruv was fairly cautious of the three other occupied tables around them, and wondered if any of the people were named "Cate", like the name scrawled on his cup. On Whitty's was "Beka" and Ruv silently hoped both these women hadn't noticed that their coffees weren't coming.

"It's a bear yelling at a teapot, wearing one of those spiny propeller hats." Whitty said, pointing up at the cloud.

Ruv followed his hand, and shrugged at the floating cotton bomb. "Nah. It looks like... a cloud."

"No shit." Whitty responded, sipping his drink again.

Ruv's eyes flickered back to the three other tables. He had a sudden, bad feeling about something. One of the tables had a few men at it, and Ruv knew immediately from their clothes the kind of guys they were. Band T-shirts, thick sunglasses, avocado toast... just a couple of hipsters.

He shook his head. Two guys out chilling. He didn't care what they were doing, but the way they occasionally glanced over at their table... Ruv didn't like it. Maybe they recognized him?

"That one there is a candle sitting on top of a safe." Whitty said, and Ruv looked back at him as he pointed laziliy at the sky. "You can even see the smoke floating off of it." he continued, glancing at Ruv.

Ruv nodded. "Yea, it kinda looks like smoke. Or fog, almost. Steam, maybe."

"And you can see the candle, right?" he said, drinking out of his coffee again, his eyes still smiling over at Ruv.

Ruv shook his head. "I don't see it. It definitely looks like smoke though. Or just a cloud."

"You're bad at this." Whitty told him, sarcasm laced between his words. Ruv just smiled.

"Hey!" A voice said.

Ruv turned, glaring up at the two guys standing by their table, both of them holding fake leather-bound notebooks. Their gaze wasn't at him, though. It was entirely on Whitty.

Ruv felt instantly defensive, straightening a little and glaring at the two men. They ignored him. "You're Whitty?" one asked.

Ruv glanced at his boyfriend. His eyes lit up when they said that, giddy excitement falling over his expression.

Ruv heaved a sigh, falling back in his chair. Just a couple of fangirls for Whitty, he thought with a small smile.

"That's the real name, believe or not." Whitty bragged, putting his cup on the table, and leaning over to peer into his pocket. "Either of you guys want an autograph? I don't have a pen on me."

"Oh no." the other guy said, chuckling awkwardly as his friend shivered. "Hell no, we don't want your autograph."

Ruv's eye narrowed, and Whitty shifted where he sat. "...okay then." he said.

One of the guys nodded, looking at the other. "Is it true... you're a walking, talking nuclear bomb, Mr. Whitty?"

Ruv's eyes narrowed. The fuck?

The excitement fell from Whitty's face, and he leaned back as he stared at the men. "I uh... I'm not a weapon."

"Yes, that's exactly what you are." One of the guys said, with a small sigh. "If you would be so kind as to come with us right now, please, that would be most appreciated."

Ruv blinked at them.

The other guy added, "Now, don't think we won't use force. Being only twenty percent human, Mr. Whitty, legal action does not apply to you. You can come with us now peacefully. We are giving you that option."

Whitty stayed silent, his eyes burning at the two guys. "No way in hell." he muttered.

The men glanced at each other. One of them shrugged, and the other held up his hand and flicked something small and silver towards Whitty. He reached up to his cheek to try and brush it off, but then the other guy held up a remote, pressing a large button.

Whitty's entire body went rigid at that, and both men chuckled. "These things really work, huh?" one said.

Ruv threw the first punch, and he wholly admits to that. He threw the second punch too. They were the only punches thrown.

His chair had been knocked over from how fast he stood, and his knuckles hurt from where they collided with the guy's noses. Both of the men had their hands pressed to their bloodied faces, laying back on the concrete patio and groaning in pain.

Ruv stared down at them. His mind felt empty, his thoughts frozen, as he lifted a foot over the closer guy's ribcage, readying to bring it down and listen to the popcorn of each bone snapping under his boot. "Deactivate that fucking thing, right the fuck now, before I turn your chest into a bag of bone shards." he flared.

The guy nodded, his eyes wide as he stared up at Ruv, lifting the remote and pointing it at Whitty. Ruv turned to him, watching as he jolted back into movement, instantly scratching the silver dot off his face.

He then gripped the edge of the table, his eyes wide as he stared off at something in the distance. He blinked, and his eyes flickered with tiny, spinning shapes, but only for a second.

"...You 'k?" Ruv asked, not moving his foot from where it hovered over the secret hipster.

He saw Whitty swallow, and then stand up. "I've... I'll text you later." he said, before dashing off the patio and down the street.

Ruv, his mind completely forgetting the two guys still sobbing on the ground beneath him, took off after him without a second thought.

Ruv was faster than Whitty, so he thought he'd catch up pretty quick. He rushed along the public road, glancing left and right trying to find him, when he huffed angrily.

Whitty wouldn't be anywhere near people right now. Not when he was feeling like how he looked.

Ruv ran down the first alley he found, shooting around, eye catching on the occasional dumpster that was the same color as his hoody, or a homeless person that would shift and grab his attention briefly, begging for cash.

He searched everywhere, gazing up at fire escapes, looking around tall fences, trying to find where he could've gone.

Finally, finally, he ran around a bend and came to a skidding halt, seeing Whitty sitting against the wall, arms hugged around his legs, muttering to himself.

Ruv's eye widened, and he sat across from Whitty, asking quietly, "What's wrong?"

Whitty's breaths were shaky as he looked up at him, gasoline pooling out of his eyes. "I'm just a weapon." he said, his eyes glazed over and staring away.

Ruv blinked at him, slowly. That's when he noticed Whitty's fingertip.

Ruv almost swore with how it looked. Whitty had rubber fingers from the third knuckle to where the nail should've been. They had dents and scratches in them, but Ruv never noticed if they were picked at that much.

Now, both the rubber covers of his middle and pointer finger were in his lap, the edges ripped up and jagged from where he picked at them.

Where they should've been, back on his fingers, was a twisted, dented collection of wires and yellow metal. Ruv almost didn't want to touch them, just because he was scared they would electrocute him.

"Fuck..." he whispered, gently. "Are you okay?"

"I'm a weapon." Whitty muttered, as he began picking at the rubber cover of his ring finger. "Look. I'm all wires. I'm just fucking wires and bomb parts." he sobbed.

Ruv couldn't watch this. He quickly grabbed Whitty's hand, pulling it away from his other hand, and squeezing it firmly. "You're not a bomb." he said. "And don't do that."

Whitty stared at him, eyes wide and shifting across his face.

For the first time in their relationship, Whitty's hands felt cold, gripped in Ruv's. He blinked at him slowly. "You are not a bomb, Whitty." he repeated.

They sat together there, for maybe another ten minutes, Ruv repeating that over and over as firmly held Whitty's hands apart so he wouldn't hurt himself anymore.

Finally, he had calmed down enough to just stare at the sky between the two buildings. Ruv was carefully helping him wrap the ripped up rubber back around his fingers, telling him, "We have some rubber glue in the church we can use."

Whitty nodded. "Thanks." he said, gazing up at the clouds.

Ruv just nodded a reply. After finally fixing his fingers as best he could, he squeezed Whitty's hand warmly.

"That hasn't happened for a long time, I promise." Whitty said. "I thought I got over it as a kid still, but obviously not."

Ruv nodded, looking back up into his eyes. "It's alright." he said, before falling back and leaning on the wall next to him, staring up at the fluffy clouds.

As a joke, he pointed at one directly over their heads, and said, "Think that's uh... fish?"

Whitty gazed up at it too, then laughed. "Yeah, a fish with a gun. Or maybe a flashlight."

Ruv shook his head. "Nah. He's holding a cloud."

Whitty bumped his arm, sighing in annoyance. Ruv hugged him back.

[gojology]

Teddybears and Shitty Cards.

back to homepage pairing : yuuji x gender neutral reader warnings : minor cursing, fluff wordcount : 1529 a/n : i hope i did u yuuji stans justice .. probably not but this is rlly good for my characterization :) also i thought that gojo wasn’t as well loved as megumi/yuuji/nanami etc but holy shit i thought wrong. my megumi and nanami fics got little to no attraction, or maybe i write them horribly, idk. is gojo satoru the best husbando in jjk? (the answer is yes.) also uh.. i didnt proof read this ████████████████  100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

     “Itadori!” you yell, panting, cupping your hands together around your mouth to amplify your voice. He had asked you prior to meet with you for Valentines in this particular park, most likely because it was Valentines day.        You had to admit, his selection in nice places was clearly defined. The views from the hill you and him sat upon was spectacular, you could see the city in it’s whole. This was amplified with the setting of the sun, a hazy beautiful orangey-yellow gradient was all the eye could see from up here.       It was definitely worth the walk up the steep hill, and you took a much needed seat and breather on the painted wooden bench, pulling out your water bottle you take a long swig, wiping the sweat off your brow as you did so.       You took a quick sneak peek at Yuuji, who was humming a tune, earbuds in. Shielding your eyes with your hand, you leaned closer into his shoulder. His thumbs were fumbling with something, which you now realized was a Nintendo Switch.       “Watcha playing?” you ask, breathing in his scent. Remnants of candy and baked goods filled your nose.        Yuuji didn’t say anything back, instead continuing to hum and mumble a few lyrics, lost in his own world.       It was only until you impatiently tapped at his broad shoulders to pay attention to you. He jolted up, looking left and right before finally realizing you were sitting next to him. Taking a deep breath in, he cheerfully smiled before taking one of his earbuds out.       “Hey! You came early~ are you excited to see me?” he questioned, setting his Nintendo Switch into his backpack before picking up what seemed to be a bag right next to him.      “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be, baby?” you reply back, grinning, deciding to pay no mind towards this bag. Yuuji was quite popular, especially revolving sports or something along the lines of that. Many famous coaches had said that he possessed super-human strength, and he had been showered in contracts with sport teams not long after those few words.       In return, this caused Yuuji to be insanely busy with many interviews and pelted with multiple adult-y stuff to do, which had hurt you exceptionally. It greatly hindered the relationship between you two. Weekly visits turned into monthly, and you couldn’t bare to see him drown in all his work. He was a busy guy, but yet always so carefree, and you didn’t want that carefree childish aspect of him to disappear. After all, that was something you loved about Yuuji.       He looked up at you with a reassuring beam, and you felt yourself melt under those warm eyes. “Aww, that makes me happy, (Y/N). Scratch that, you make me happy!” facing you, he gave you a quick peck on your cheek. Your heart bursts, it had been too long since you felt that specific thing, and you give him a gentle kiss back, running a hand through his fluffy hair.       “I missed you. It’s been too long since I’ve talked to you, lovebug. Schedule is jampacked. But I met some nice friends along the way, and my coach is super nice!” he rambled on, fumbling with the handles of this mysterious bag.       “Oh? How so?” trying to make conversation, you want to appear as interested as he talked about his coach, but you were focused on his outfit and how he looked in general.        He had gotten way more stronger, you noted. He was much more scrawnier when you two first started dating, and you wondered how his cuddles might feel like. Something that didn’t change though, was his horrible fashion sense. Wearing a turquoise t-shirt with a lemon yellow jacket over it, you almost winced. Yuuji dressed like a 6th grader who had their mom pick out clothes for them.        “...And he annoys the absolute shit out of his co-worker, Utahime. It’s funny! I also met this guy named Nanami and I have no idea how my coach and Nanami are friends. Nanami always looks like he’s on the verge of murdering him whenever he opens his mouth to speak! Oh and also me and my coach made Valentine cards together and I worked really hard on it and I just know you’ll like it! Also-”       “Alright, alright. That’s a mouthful.” you sang sarcastically, Yuuji awkwardly laughed and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, looking at you like you had caught him stealing a cookie out of a jar at 12 AM.       “Sorry. I get carried away a lot.” he says, peering into the bottomless pit inside the bag. You couldn’t quite see what was inside of it.       “No, no. I think it’s cute, Yuuji-san! I didn’t forget how you acted in the span of 1 month, why would I be dating you if I thought you were annoying?” hoping this’ll knock some sense into him, you closely examine his body language for any changes, hoping that went through his mind.       You had to make sure, the guy was dumb when it came to social cues.       “Ohh, really?” he looked up, pointer finger on his chin, a confused expression covering his features. “I didn’t know, I’ll act more annoying for you then!”       Smacking your forehead, you studied your shoes, too giggly to look at him eye-to-eye. “That’s not what I meant, idiot.”       “...What did you mean then?” Yuuji quizzed, tilting his head to the side. You really couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, you’d think that all sport players would be brutes and be masculine and perhaps... Not stupid? But here you were.       “No bother.” waving your hand as a dismissal of the conversation, you instead lean towards the bag he was holding, fluttering your eyelashes. “What’s this?”       “It’s a surprise~” he responded, obviously giddy. You felt yourself soften once more, how could someone be so cute just answering a question?        “Hey, come on!” tugging on his arm, you try to yank the bag away, curiosity killing you. His grasp was firm, and he laughed as you did so, it felt good to hear him laugh like that again.         “Okay, okay! Fine. Here, go at it.” handing you the bag, you practically ripped the handles off, ecstatic to see what could possibly be waiting to be discovered.          Inside was an incredibly large teddy bear, soft. The color was almost exactly the same shade of Yuuji’s, and you squeal, hugging the plush.          “Awww! This is so cute! I woulda never believed you’re smart enough to get a good gift for me!” you joked, he caught the sarcasm this time, giving you a confident grin. He liked the compliments.          “It’s supposed to be me.” placing a hand onto his chest dramatically. “I don’t know if you realized though.”          Scoffing, you put the teddybear to the side. “Of course I’d realize! I’m not dumb, Yuuji-san!”          “Why not? We could be dumb together! Also, there’s something extra at the very bottom that I think you’d like.”          Blinking, you realized that you had completely forgotten about the bag between your legs. Looking back down and rummaging for what possibly could be there, you pull out a card.          On the front, there’s a tacky lopsided heart, made with glitter glue. It seems there are also many failed attempts of starting this large heart at the sides of it. At the top, there’s a large, “Happy Valentines Day!” in red marker that was also uneven. Underneath the heart? A stick figure drawing of you and Yuuji, which was also... Pretty horrible.         Stifling a giggle, you open the card, eyes scanning the left for anything, you turn to face the right as soon as you deem it clear. That’s where the writing is.         Dear Y/N,          I love you very much and I know I do not spend that much time with you anymore but you still make me very happy. My coach was very nice and gave me Valentines day off because he felt bad.      I had to run to the nearest drugstore to get you this teddybear, but me and Mr. Coach decorated this together! He says he’s a very good drawer and I agree. I think the drawing is very detailed. He also helped me with the heart (we picked out the color together) and we had a lot of fun decorating. He says my handwriting looks really bad (is that true?) can you please help me fix it later? :(                                                                           With a lot of love,                                                                              Your Boyfriend and Gojo Satoru (his cool coach that helped him write this, thank me later. I have no idea how you handle this guy, but God is he such an amazing kid.)      Looking back up from the card, you look at Yuuji, who is looking at you back, squeamish. Without another thought, you kiss him, soft and light ones on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, everywhere on his face. When you finally pull away, both of you are staring at each other fondly.        “Yes, I’ll help you fix your handwriting, dummy.”         Yuuji gave you a toothy smile that he only saved for the special ones in his life.

[wroammin]

a hero’s welcome

word count: 1445

warnings: self-loathing, panic attacks, crying, slight gore (because remus)

summary: roman hides out in his room after the events of putting others first. the other sides try to show him how much he’s missed in their own special ways.

once again, happy birthday to the man, the myth, the himbo: roman sanders

it takes weeks for roman to come out of his room after janus reveals his name.

the others worry almost constantly about his well-being, but after multiple failed attempts at convincing him to come out for movie nights, video recordings, or even just food, they can only hope that roman will come around on his own eventually.

and he does. slowly.

it starts with a few missing disney movies from the TV cabinet, a half-eaten jar of logan’s off-limits crofter’s (which both logan & remus swear they did not touch) left mysteriously on the kitchen counter, and then, on one particularly late night for logan, a brief, silent encounter with a bleary-eyed prince in search of a cup of water.

logan notices roman is looking more bedraggled than bedazzled, with wrinkles running all across his costume and dark-colored bags under his eyes that are eerily reminiscent of virgil’s eyeshadow.

no words are exchanged, but as logan carefully hands roman a glass which he’s filled nearly to the brim, roman knows no words are necessary. he can practically recite logan’s self-care spiel by memory anyway.

eventually, the disney movie collection in the TV cabinet dwindles down to a Frozen DVD (which they’d all recently rewatched anyway), and the old, dusty VHS copy of Black Cauldron (which roman’s never particularly liked). seeing as it’s his personal favorite disney movie, virgil tries not to feel too offended by that.

what virgil can’t stop himself from feeling, however, is worry. it’s not an unfamiliar feeling to him, of course, but it doesn’t make him any less uncomfortable.

he tries all of the usual things to calm his nerves: sitting on strange surfaces, fiddling with a fidget cube, rewatching The Nightmare Before Christmas, napping excessively, and—naturally—blasting music through his bulky headphones.

but even with My Chemical Romance screaming out of his speakers, virgil simply can’t ignore the alarming absence of that familiar, sash-framed figure. 

despite his quarrelsome quips with the prince, virgil can admit that there’s always been a certain... comfort to hearing roman’s boisterous voice belting broadway ballads down the halls, or seeing him dash off on another adventure to defeat the dragon witch for the umpteenth time. 

it’s when virgil’s sullenly staring at roman’s usual spot, in the corner of his room, that an idea suddenly strikes him. 

the next morning, roman sneaks down to the living room in the early hours of the day after deciding that rewatching Frozen (again) doesn’t sound so bad after all. he opens the movie cabinet to find a bit of a surprise in the form of a The Nightmare Before Christmas DVD with a scrap of paper taped hastily to the cover. the chicken scratch scrawled onto the sheet is hard to decipher, but he manages to see it reads:

“i have my own backup copy and i’ll hit play at 8pm tonight. you can do it too, so then we can sort of watch the movie together. i’ll let you pick tomorrow’s movie, if you want to, but fyi i will be picking black cauldron the next time it’s my turn. -virgil”

roman smiles subtly as he makes his way back up to his room, the first flicker of joy he’s felt in a while.

he sits down to watch the movie at 8pm, just like virgil instructed. 

for the next night, he chooses aladdin, and for the night after that, he begrudgingly agrees to watch black cauldron. 

twenty minutes into the film, virgil hears a haste knock at his door. before he even knows what’s happening, roman is shuffling inside and curling up on the couch next to him. 

unsurprisingly, the tired prince falls asleep before the movie finishes. surprisingly, virgil doesn’t actually mind all that much. 

meanwhile, patton has nearly eaten his way through the entire cookie stock in the pantry.

it’s not a healthy coping mechanism for his sadness, he knows, but it’s not like he can just go and ask roman to conjure up some puppies for him instead. patton sniffles at the thought, which serves as a painful reminder of how roman was always there for him when he was feeling down, and how patton can’t do the same for him now.

the others hold an intervention for him after logan finds him sobbing over some reheated spaghetti because it made him think of roman. virgil then explains how he’s been watching movies with roman, and how patton can leave some snacks for the prince in the cabinet along with a note if he wants to send a message. 

that very night, patton stays up past midnight to prepare some spaghetti with extra, extra love (& cumin) for roman. he draws him a card and writes a message inside, then sticks it to the top of the tupperware container containing the spaghetti using glitter glue. 

upon discovering patton’s care package beside virgil’s usual note inside the cabinet, roman feels his mood suddenly shift.

he thinks of the days he spent sobbing for hours inside of his room and staring in the mirror and pacing back and forth and staring in the mirror and laying on his bed and staring in the mirror and working through the tears and staring in the mirror and then slicing a line clean through the mirror with his sword and watching his reflection split in two.

those weren’t good days.

but then he thinks of patton’s pleading, hopeful voice whenever he would call him down for movie nights, video recordings, or food.

maybe patton wasn’t lying when he said roman was loved. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see him and the others out in the open again. maybe there were better days ahead.

remus, however, doesn’t wait around for roman to feel better. as always, he continuously swings by his brother’s room whenever he feels like it and leaves whenever he pleases.

still, his visits aren’t as fun anymore. perhaps he just doesn’t have the energy, but roman no longer bothers to shriek at remus to get out of his room or to push remus off his desk when he drapes himself across it.

not even the severed, mutilated head that remus kindly leaves on roman’s pillow elicits its usual slew of creative curse words, so the duke decides to step up his game.

he skips casually into roman’s room one late afternoon, lazily swinging his morning star at his side and whistling a jaunty tune. as usual, roman doesn’t spare him a single glance. he’s staring down at some kind of crayon-covered card.

it only takes one hit to knock roman out, but dragging him into the living room is a much more difficult process.

the other sides are already waiting, just like janus promised they would be. they rush over and prop roman up on the couch. patton gives remus a few reprimanding words, virgil sends him a couple scowls, and even logan looks on with more disapproval than usual, but they quickly forget their anger at him as soon as roman groans groggily and slowly blinks open his eyes.

remus takes that as his cue to leave. janus is waiting at the top of the stairs.

“so you’re sure that this plan of yours is going to work?”

janus scoffs. “of course i am. though, have you considered that perhaps you’re just not as annoying to your brother anymore?”

“have you considered that perhaps i could start leaving chopped heads on your pillow instead if your ‘master plan’ fails?” remus shoots him the prettiest, toothiest smile he can muster.

janus’ expression darkens. “well. i suppose it’s a good thing i’m certain it will work, then.”

the sound of laughter bubbles up from the living room. janus doesn’t bother to hide his satisfied smirk.

“i’ll say, when you told me you could help me get roman back to normal, forcing him to attend a party was not what i had in mind.”

“do i even want to know what you had in mind?” janus gives him a quick side glance.

remus’ eyes light up. “well–”

“rhetorical question, remus. ugh, maybe i should start saying ‘figuratively’, as well. anyway, yes, i thought it was about time roman stopped sulking. so, what better way to get him out of his room than by having a, uh, hero’s welcome of sorts for him?”

“well, i got him out of his room by dragging him by his feet.”

janus sighs, wondering why he even opens his mouth to speak anymore. 

his plan better work.

though, judging by the sound of patton and logan’s exhasperated sighs as roman and virgil argue over which movie to watch, he has the sneaking suspicion it will.

[flowers-creativity]

Fic: Sweet Daughter Mine

Fandom:  The Musketeers Characters: Porthos, Marie-Cessette, original male character Warnings: None Summary: Even sweet little girls (and of course Porthos is adamant that his girl is the sweetest of them all) get in trouble sometimes.

Notes: Originally a fill for Musketeer March, vaguely covering either "Porthos" or "Favourite Character" and "Favourite AU", but well, it's May by now, so it gets to stand on its own.Children are pretty hard to write, yo!

AO3 link

Porthos looked up at the grey, nondescript building and scrubbed his hand through his hair uncomfortably, then let his hands fall down to tug at his suit jacket. He had managed to put on an outfit that was making him feel both over- and underdressed – or, no, it wasn't so much the outfit as the situation that was making him feel ridiculously nervous. Someone who faced terrorists, bomb threats, mobsters and a disgruntled Captain Treville on the regular should not be intimidated by a meeting with the principal of his daughter's school.

But he couldn't help it, schools just sent him back to the time when he'd been the one called to the office for whatever trouble he had gotten into in his illustrious career as an adolescent delinquent.

He sighed and gave his sleeves a last tuck before he squared his shoulders and marched towards the building. Hopefully, Marie-Cessette had good reason to be in trouble and hadn't stepped into his shoes with regard to petty crime. Not that she'd ever even know about that if Porthos had any choice in the matter.

He made his way to the office and gave his name to a kind-faced secretary. She did not smile but her look was sympathetic as she lead him into a small hallway leading to a closed door. Before it, two chairs were sitting side by side, and on one of them was his daughter.

“Papa!” Marie-Cessette cried out and jumped up to rush to him and give him a hug.

He returned it and smiled, glad to see that whatever was going on, she was fine, no sign of tears, ripped clothing or bruises. “Hi, little bug.”

“Papa, they--” she started to say but broke off when the door behind them opened.

A man stood in the door, critically eyeing Porthos and his daughter. After a moment, he said: “M. du Vallon? I'm principal Porchet. Please come in. You too, Marie-Cessette.”

Porthos nodded and followed him when he went back into the room. Inside, M. Porchet shook his hand and gestured to the two chairs set up in front of his large desk. Porthos took a seat and pulled Marie-Cessette onto the chair next to him.

They sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence, and Porthos had to suppress the urge to fidget. Next to him, Marie-Cessette was losing the same battle, tugging at the hem of her shirt not very unlike how he had tugged on his suit jacket earlier. Finally, M. Porchet started to speak: “I'm sorry to call you in during work hours but I really felt the need to address this situation with you in person.”

Porthos made a dismissive gesture. “No need to apologise. I've got a very understanding employer when it comes to family affairs,” he replied. Well, that and they were between assignments anyway, so work was slow and mostly involved paperwork that ended up being used as paper planes Aramis and he were throwing at each other across the room.

M. Porchet didn't look exactly pleased by that – he was probably a stricter employer – but nodded and continued: “Alright, then. Now, are you aware that your daughter has an ongoing feud with one of her classmates?”

Porthos frowned and looked sidewise at his daughter. “I know there's one boy who she's been clashing with before,” he said slowly, trying to remember what exactly Elodie had told him over the phone after she had been called in to see the principal before. “I think he's called … Christophe, I believe?”

M. Porchet nodded. “Christophe Faucher, that's correct. As this has been ongoing for some time, we have kept a close watch on the two of them. Children fight, it happens, but the level of animosity between your daughter and Christophe is worrisome.”

“Marie-Cessette,” Porthos said, using a moment where M. Porchet had to take a breath and not caring that he didn't seem to be finished yet. He could feel Marie-Cessette give a start at his side at her name being spoken and put a hand on her knee to calm her.

M. Porchet raised his eyebrows at the interruption. “I beg your pardon?”

“My daughter's name is Marie-Cessette.” He quickly looked at his girl to give her a smile. “I'm well aware that she's my daughter, so please give her the respect to call her by her name when speaking about her.” He returned the principal's gaze with a hard look, which he knew was hard to resist.

As predicted, M. Porchet looked away first.

He cleared his throat and then said somewhat stiffly: “Of course. Now, as I said, we were keeping an eye on the two of them. For the most part, they seemed to keep it to the occasional insult and argument, steering away from anything physical, so we left it at reprimands for inappropriate language and made sure they didn't spend too much time near each other. That is, of course, until the unfortunate glue incident last month ...”

Porthos pinched his lips and fought to keep back a growl. Elodie having to cut their daughter's hair by about a hand's length to remove the strands stuck together with superglue had indeed been unfortunate, and he'd hated not being there, not being able to hug her when she cried about losing her beautiful blonde curls. They had just grown back enough that they were brushing her shoulders again. Porthos thought that she'd looked absolutely adorable with that curly bob but he knew that Marie-Cesette had loved her long hair.

Out loud, he said: “Elodie – my wife – had told me all about that, yeah.”

M. Porchet nodded. “We kept a close watch on them afterwards, in case any retaliation were to take place. Christophe had been punished, of course. But things seemed to settle down again. Until today, when they got into a screaming match during lunch break. I'll spare you the details but I need to tell you that we are very concerned about some of the things your dau-- Marie-Cessette said during this argument.”

Porthos raised his eyebrows and looked at Marie-Cessette again who had her arms crossed over her chest and was staring intently at the floor. “Which were?” he asked.

“Among others, she claimed that you are a super-spy,” M. Porchet declared, and Porthos felt a whoosh of air leaving his lungs as if he had been punched. “Never mind that according to our files, you are a pharmaceuticals salesman.”

Porthos kept his face carefully neutral when he replied: “Marie-Cessette has a very lively imagination.” He ignored the hurt little “Papa!” whine coming from his daughter. “Was that all?”

“No.” The principal steepled his fingers. “She also told Christophe that you would hunt him down and that you would hold him over the edge of a roof until he apologised, and if he didn't, you would break every bone in his body, one after the other.” He fell silent and let the silence stretch before he continued: “Now, lies and tall tales are one thing. As you said, Marie-Cessette has a lively imagination. But threats of violence of that kind are something we are not willing to tolerate, M. du Vallon.”

Porthos directed a frown at Marie-Cessette who was still finding the floor extremely interesting. “I understand,” he said. “I can assure you that I will have a serious word with her about this.”

M. Porchet nodded. “I appreciate that. Since it was still only verbal, Marie-Cessette's punishment won't be too severe this time but I sincerely hope it will not happen again, or I would be forced to take more drastic measures.”

Porthos sat up straight and looked the principal in the eye, mustering his best look of absolute honesty. “I'll do my best to ensure it won't, as will my wife.” He waited a moment, then added: “Lessons should be over by now, so I can take my girl home now, right?”

M. Porchet looked at the clock on his desk, then said with a sigh: “Of course. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Let's hope it won't be necessary again.”

“Yeah, let's,” Porthos agreed. He stood and shook the other man's hand, then turned and held out a hand to his daughter. “C'mon, bug.”

She looked at him with something that was a cross between a pout and a scowl – he had no idea how she managed to do that, and how it could be so cute – but took his hand. “Goodbye, M. Porchet,” she said politely, despite the general air of annoyance she was projecting.

“Goodbye,” Porthos followed her lead almost sheepishly. They made their way outside, with Marie-Cessette smiling sweetly and waving at the secretary when they passed her.

Once outside, Marie-Cessette pulled her hand free and whirled to face him, again crossing her arms over her chest. “I don't have a lively imagination!” He almost thought she would stomp her feet but the glare she gave him was impressive enough.

“You have, little bug,” he returned.

“Not about the spy thing!”

Porthos sighed and dragged a hand over his face. “No, not about that,” he allowed. He had known that it might become a problem one day – he hadn't wanted to lie to his family about what he really did but it was hard to drive home the need of secrecy to a child. “But do you remember what I told you about bein' a spy? What's the most important thing?”

“Uh...” Marie-Cessette's glare melted as she thought. “That you're keeping everyone safe?”

“That, too. But I meant that a spy needs to be secret, that no one knows he is one,” Porthos explained. “Else I can't work anymore when everyone knows I'm a spy, darlin'. You can't go around and tell people about it.”

His daughter's face crumbled in dismay. “I'm sorry,” she said, stretching out her hands, and he acquiesced with the unspoken request and picked her up. She hugged her arms around his neck and hid her face in his shoulder. “Christophe said such stupid things about you, that you're a loser and just a stupid salesman who doesn't even have his own shop.”

Porthos couldn't suppress a snort of laughter at that. “He doesn't know much about pharmaceuticals salesmen, then,” he said, unperturbed. “I mean, would've been impressed if he did. But point is, let him say about me what he wants, bug. You know I've got a great job. That's enough, isn't it? Your classmates can think whatever about me.”

She peeked at him and then nodded against his shoulder.

“Good,” Porthos said as he turned towards the visitor parking space and started walking. “And now, about that threat ...”

“I know,” Marie-Cessette sighed, “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Damn right you shouldn't,” Porthos agreed. “How do you even come up with somethin' like that? Danglin' someone from the roof?”

His daughter was quiet, drawing patterns on his chest. Porthos tried to be patient but when no answer was forthcoming by the time he had reached his car, he poked her with his free hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

She shook her head. “No, but--” she looked up at him, “you're gonna be mad.”

Porthos frowned. “Why d'you think that, bug? I'm not gonna be mad at you.”

“No, not at me,” Marie-Cessette clarified, “but--- Uncle Aramis, he--”

Porthos groaned. “He told you about that?”

She just nodded, and he had to fight down the urge to faceplant on the roof of his car. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I promise I'm not mad. Okay, I'm a bit mad. But I promise not to yell at him, okay? I'll just tell him the same I'm tellin' you: Don't talk about things like that outside of home. And in your case, darlin': Don't threaten other kids, you understand? You can tell them I'll come and yell at them – no, wait, probably not that one, either. Just don't threaten them.”

Marie-Cessette could not suppress a giggle but then nodded, giving her best attempt to look serious. “I promise I won't, no matter how much of an asshat Christophe is being.”

Porthos laughed a bit desperately. “And where does that word come from?”

“Uh … Uncle d'Artagnan?”

Porthos gave in and slumped forward onto the roof of his car, bouncing his forehead lightly on the cool metal. “Shouldn't be a surprise,” he mumbled. He straightened up again and gave his daughter a glare. “We'll talk about that, too,” he promised her. “Lots of serious words to be had all around.”

She shrunk a bit under his glare and nodded.

“Alright,” he said with a sigh. He unlocked the door and set her down in her seat, then rounded the car and got into the driver's seat. A quick check that she had buckled herself in correctly, and he was pulling out of the car park and turning the car towards home.

Where he would have to have some words with those brothers of his. Wasn't it fun to have kids? Especially the part where he was also parenting two grown men in their thirties ...

[milkypompon]

𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕃𝕒𝕥𝕖 Pt.2 | Reader x Sokka x Zuko | ℤ𝕌𝕂𝕆'𝕊 𝔼ℕ𝔻𝕀ℕ𝔾

𝕐𝕆𝕌 ℂℍ𝕆𝕊𝔼 ℤ𝕌𝕂𝕆'𝕊 𝔼ℕ𝔻𝕀ℕ𝔾

< ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 || 𝕊𝕆𝕂𝕂𝔸'𝕊 𝔼ℕ𝔻𝕀ℕ𝔾 >

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | Y/N and Sokka crushed on each other for the longest time, but neither of them had the guts to tell about their feelings. Sokka tried to ignore how he felt by flirting and dating other people, which left Y/N confused. Until, Y/N met Zuko, firing up something within Sokka.

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Okay, cutie Zuko is here! I took the opportunity and answered a request as well, I hope this will suffice for your flaming hotman needs!! Thank you to everyone that’s waited!

WARNINGS: Angst! Fluffy! Smut! Few cussies??

𝔼ℕ𝕁𝕆𝕐

Sounds of whispers and giggles were carried by the wind of the night. The Gaang sat around a flickering flame, shuffling their hands together near the fire to keep warm. Each one of them leaned their backs against a tree to support their dropping frames. There was still tension from the interaction between Sokka and Y/N, which neither of them returned yet. 

Their heads whipped to the approaching sounds of leaves crunching under quick boots. 

It was Y/N. 

Y/N released wavering hiccups and occasional sniffs. The fire illuminated their wilting features. But, it wasn’t a lasting sight for the worried friends because Y/N ran further into the dark forest, only guided by the dotted stars.

Toph dusted off her tunic from dirt as she stood up, “I’ll talk to Y/N-”

Zuko was already walking towards Y/N’s direction, “It’s alright, I think I know what this is about… But, I hope I’m wrong.” He muttered the last part to himself.

Zuko began to feel Y/N’s presence in a different way everyday: The sight of their eyes lighting up with the sunrays and hearing their laugh jingle like happy bells softened his heart. But, he didn’t want to intervene between Sokka and Y/N’s established relationship. Zuko hoped that he didn’t break their bond just because he happened to be there. The tears that streaked their face was an image that he could not forget because Zuko caused that.

“Y/N! I… I think we need to talk this out!” He yelled into the towering trees and the sky above. 

Zuko walked for what seemed like miles, or maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him because he was anxious about the thought of having to let go of them when it was time to relay his thoughts onto Y/N. 

A feeling of warmth washed over his anxious thoughts when he was greeted by Y/N’s back. They mindlessly dangled their legs over a clifftop, picking at blades of grass that tickled the palm of their hand. Y/N was well-aware of the voice that’s been carried by the wind, but they didn’t want to face them with such a horrendous face and incomplete thoughts.

Zuko slowly approached Y/N, careful not to startle them. “Can I sit next to you?” He tried to catch their eye, but they only turned a way and hummed a yes.

Y/N picked another blade of grass, rolling it around between their fingers. 

He leaned back with his arms supporting him, looking into the dark sky decorated by flecks of glowing stars. “Y’know Toph wouldn’t be so happy if you treated her element like that,” Zuko turned his head and offered Y/N a small smile.

Still looking into their lap, Y/N retorted with a wavering voice, “Speaking of Toph, I bet she was gonna talk to me, huh?”

Zuko ignored their comment, not out of ignorance, but his mind was running a thousand miles per hour. “I… I’m not sure if this is the best time to tell you-” He paused when Y/N’s eyes began to gloss over.

Y/N said in a dangerously low voice, “What? That you like me or some shit? I don’t even know what love means.” Tears began to slide down their cheeks.

Zuko was taken aback by what they said. Then, he was startled by the onslaught of rain that began to sprinkle onto them. Slowly, but surely, the stars were covered by heavy, water-filled clouds. His mouth gaped, “I knew that Y/N was a waterbender, but being able to control the weather with their emotions…”

Zuko quickly recovered from his discovery. “Y/N, please. At least head into camp with me,” he pleaded as he shielded his eyes from the rain.

Y/N’s tears were beginning to mix with the salty drops of rain that became larger. “Just leave me alone!” Y/N threw their hand out towards Zuko’s chest. 

The clouds clapped and emanated grumbling sounds of anger. Zuko’s eyes widened when a rope of lightning approached him. He couldn’t catch it in time to scoop it with his fingers, down towards his stomach, then shoot out to the opposite direction- Just as Uncle Iroh taught him. 

It all came too quickly.

Y/N was stunned at the sight of electricity dancing around Zuko’s quivering frame that fell harshly to the dirt. 

His eyelashes batted slowly. 

“Y/N…” Zuko groaned.

Darkness enveloped him.

-

Soft cushions supported Zuko’s body and a thin blanket layed over his legs. He looked up only to be greeted by the fabric of a tent.

Zuko attempted to prop himself up with his elbows, but he came down with a loud thud and a pained moan. He scanned his body for any visible pain and not to his surprise, was a crawling scar on his chest, specifically on the skin above his heart.

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut in agony, memories of last night came flooding into him, which made his heart wince even more.

“How could I be so stupid?” He thought. Zuko was pulled back from his trance of blame and sadness with the sound of the tent’s entrance being pulled open. Quickly, he shut his eyes, quipped up a calm face and pretended to be asleep. 

Y/N shouted behind their shoulder, “It’s alright Katara! I’ll take this shift.” They held a bowl of glimmering water, collected from their rainy rage last night.

They carefully set down the bowl next to Zuko’s head and slipped off their boots, careful not to track in any mud. 

Y/N didn’t make a single sound, no sighs escaped their lips as they wrapped their hands with water. It languidly slid between their fingers, glowing a little brighter each time a droplet joined their hands. 

They brought the healing water onto Zuko’s scarred chest that angrily glowed red, contrasting the cool blue hue. To Y/N’s dismay the wound didn’t diminish, not even by the slightest.

Zuko pried his eyes open, knowing Y/N was too concentrated on healing his wound, just enough to see their luscious lips whisper, “I hate it when Katara’s right about waterbending and my damn emotions…”

He shut his eyes again when Y/N slowly trailed their eyes up to his face. “Zuko, I…”

Zuko’s ears warmed up, already feeling the embarrassment he’d have to face when they told him that they knew he was awake this whole time. 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, “I’m sorry…”

He was stunned at Y/N’s words.

“I’m sorry that I led you on and hurt you like this!” Their eyes began to dampen. “You stayed with me when you could’ve left, instead you dealt with my dramatic ass last night,” Y/N laughed a little at the end. 

“I wanted to share the stars with you last night and see your face light up, instead I lit you up, literally…” They confessed.

Zuko couldn’t help, but tear his eyes open just a little. Y/N’s tears came down like rainfall, it splashed into their hands, joining the preexisting water on his chest. 

Y/N’s lip quivered, “You make me feel warm everytime you look at me with those amber eyes of yours. What I’m trying to say is… I love you too…” They were bawling at this point.

Suddenly, the once languid pools of water surrounding Y/N’s hands and Zuko’s chest, swirled up to Y/N’s arms and covered their upper body. 

“UHMM!” Y/N’s mouth gaped open in surprise and uncertainty. They tried to pry their hands away, but it stuck onto him like glue. 

“ZUKO!” They yelled, now in fear. 

Zuko’s eyes immediately shot up at the blue hue of water glowing brightly, not to mention Y/N’s hands pressing lightly on his scar. He would be blushing profusely at the contact, but that was the last thing he had on mind at the moment. The water swayed and flicked faster, releasing sounds similar to ocean waves crashing onto rocks.

No one outside seemed to hear the raging sounds that occurred in the tent. They didn’t even hear Y/N’s cries of help.

Zuko and Y/N were stuck. 

Zuko propped himself up with his arms, frantically scanning his eyes at the situation. His eyes were blown wide, “Y/N! YOUR- YOUR CHEST!”

Y/N felt their ears heat up. “MY WHAT?!” Out of instinct, they attempted to lift their arms to cover themselves from Zuko, forgetting they were glued onto him. 

Realizing what Zuko implied, he replied with a stutter, “N-No! I mean look down!”

When Y/N did, their chest glowed, no-

Y/N’s heart illuminated blue through their chest. The sensation was unexplainable. They felt warmth and comfort, though there was a mixture of power that surged throughout their body. The energy would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the contact that they and Zuko shared at the moment.

Y/N was sharing something with Zuko through his own glowing heart.

“SPEAK FOR YOURSELF!” they yelled back.

When Zuko looked at his chest, underneath Y/N’s hands, there were blue flares. It resembled the flickering flames of fire, but it was cool to the touch like ocean water. 

The flares were kept at bay by their hands.

They both realized this, causing them to look up and lock eyes.

The brilliant light that emanated from their elements coming together became unbearable, causing them to close their eyes. The sound that followed it was a deafening pop!

Zuko was the first to comment on the situation after the rageous situation died down, “Look…”

Y/N noticed the water dissipating into mist, floating away calmly as if nothing at all had happened. Their nose scrunched up and their mouth turned up in a small smile.

There was wonder that twinkled in their eyes, Zuko noticed.

He cleared his throat, “You can, uh, let go now.” 

“Sorry!” Y/N’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as they felt his toned chest under their light fingertips. They couldn’t look away from Zuko’s state: His usual tousled black hair was pulled back with occasional strands meeting his forehead. His pupils dilated in the tent that was no longer illuminated by Y/N’s water. Y/N lingered on a little longer at the sight, until they slowly looked down.

The pair sat face to face now: Y/N’s legs were tucked in under their knees, while Zuko’s was pulled close to him in a criss cross fashion. They both gasped at the sight of Zuko’s once scarred chest, now it was a small tattoo that resembled the Water Tribe crest. 

“YOU MARKED ME?” Zuko’s hands scrambled up to touch the mysterious tattoo. 

Y/N flinched at his voice and made their cheeks puff, “That’s what you ask after all that emotionally driven magic?”

“And if you’re so angry about it, then maybe I can make more marks to match it,” Y/N muttered to themself. 

Zuko wasn’t sure if they heard them right, but his interpretation made his cheeks blush profusely. “I… okay,” he looked past Y/N not wanting to meet their eyes. 

“You- you mean it?” Y/N was absolutely stunned.

“I mean it if you do as well,” Zuko timidly scratched the back of his neck. 

“I’m not really sure where to start,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry, I'll take care of you,” Y/N propped themself up on all fours and crawled closer to Zuko. They brought a gentle handle to his jaw and kissed the corner of his lips. 

Y/N placed their lips near his ear, “...because I love you so dearly.” 

Zuko’s hair stood straight at the sound of Y/N’s sultry voice. 

The feeling was short-lived as they pulled away and asked him to position his legs in a way that would allow Y/N to straddle his hips comfortably.

Y/N felt Zuko’s unsure hands trying to get a hold of them, his eyes were a little lost, but there was a sense of satisfaction at the way they connected together. Y/N carefully grabbed his wrists, guiding his hands to their hips.

Once again, Y/N whispered into the shell of Zuko’s ear, “Grip them here. Don’t worry, I won’t break.” Their little giggle made his spine tingle. Y/N slowly trailed their feathery-light fingertips along Zuko’s toned arms. The sensations that he felt were electrifying, it made his hairs stand on edge and toes curl. 

Y/N took their time on drinking up Zuko’s unraveling state. But they knew that he needed more. They snaked up one hand to his shoulder, while the other cradled the nape of his neck. Y/N licked their luscious lips and began to press soft kisses along his jawline. Slowly making their way to Zuko’s neck, Y/N began to nibble, receiving whimpers. They swirled their tongue on the little marks that they promised to leave. 

Zuko was ecstatic with this new feeling of warmth quite different from fire. He couldn’t help but groan as Y/N began to grind their hips onto his, each touch made him want to beg for more.

Y/N saw Zuko bite his reddening lips, he was holding back.

“Zu… just let it out,” Y/N said into his bruising collarbone.

Zuko moaned, “Ah… Y/N, that feels so good. Don’t stop doing that-” 

“Doing what?” they thrusted into him quickly. 

“Hnnngg… Fuck,” he groaned in delight. “Keep going!”

Y/N smirked and stopped. “Keep doing what? You gotta use your mouth of yours, baby,” they said innocently. 

“Thrust into me l-like there’s no tomorrow!” Zuko managed to gasp out.

Of course, Y/N did because just as much they loved teasing Zuko, they wanted to feel their body grind and connect in a different way. Y/N leaned into Zuko’s swollen red lips and latched onto it. He gasped and gapped his mouth open when they tugged on their hair roughly, allowing Y/N to slide their wet muscle in.

Y/N weaved in and out of his mouth, then allowed Zuko to explore theirs. His tongue was shy, but sure enough their saliva mixed leaving it to string out on a long strand between them when the pair pulled away. 

Y/N’s eyes dilated and looked deep within Zuko’s, “I love you with my whole illuminating heart.”

“And I love you with my little tattooed heart.”

𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 | I’m sorry loves that we didn’t get a Sokka and Zuko interaction! This had way more words than I intended with a whopping 2.4k-ish, which is more than Sokka’s ending.

Anyways, gimme your LOVE AND THOUGHTS!!

@aidela​ @mochminnie​ @boxofteenageideas​ @hakunamatatayqueen @a-hopeless-fan​ 

[writer-k-pop]

The Bookseller (j.w.w) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.8k / Ending B - 4.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And there's a problem with one of the elevators." Jiwoo says sheepishly and I close my eyes in frustration, a scowl growing on my face.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I look up at the ceiling and pucker my lips together. "What's next? The front doors break?" I say up to the Gods, not caring if they are actually listening or not.

Jiwoo raises his eyebrows at me, "You wanna be challenging them like that?"

I lower my gaze to him and narrow my eyes, "I will do as I please."

Jiwoo holds up his hands in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself again, "Add it to the maintenance list and I'll wrestle with it tomorrow." I instruct him.

"Will do." Jiwoo nods and we continue on our way.

"Is he still with Soon Bok?" I ask him, getting tired of hearing only the sounds of our shoes hitting the flooring.

"Yes, she should be finishing the tour and should be heading to his room." Jiwoo answers just before we hit a more open area and guests mill past us.

"What room?" I ask, ignoring most of the guests even though they offer polite smiles.

"Number 177." Jiwoo informs me. "The one with the huge book shelf wall."

I smile, already knowing the answer to my thought, "Well, let's hope he enjoyed books in his ..." I look at him to finish my sentence.

"Oh," Jiwoo quickly realizes what information I'm searching for, "6 lives."

I nod, "Pretty average. But let's hope he enjoyed books in at least some of his 6 lives."

Jiwoo shrugs, "If not, it's a nice aesthetic wall."

I pat him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you think it's good for staring at. Because I definitely spent hours picking each book so that it could be just a good photo opportunity." I finish sarcastically.

"Not everyone's a reader." Jiwoo rolls his eyes.

"They should be." I retort.

"Anyway..." Jiwoo changes the subject as we reach the edge of the lobby, "Will you be joining the us for the celebration this weekend?”

I open my mouth to give my regular 'no' answer but two males cut me off. They barrel through the front office doors, a brunette following a few steps behind a blonde one. Both seem angry and on edge.

"I saw you with my girl!" The brunette shouts.

"I don't what you saw, man, but I was never WITH your girl." The blonde one responds and flicks a certain unpleasant finger behind him, "So leave me the fuck alone."

The lobby slowly gets quiet and not a soul moves, not even me or Jiwoo. Jiwoo out of fear and me cause I kind of want to see where this leads.

The brunette jogs ahead of the blonde and forces him to stop, "Just tell me why you were with my girl and then I'll leave you the fuck alone." The brunette seethes.

"Dude." The blonde holds out his hands, "We're best friends. Why would you think I'd be with your girl? Do you really think that low of me?"

"You know, after the stunt you pulled with Henry, I wouldn't put it past you." The brunette spits.

The blonde gets right up in the brunette's face and presses finger into his chest, "None of that was my fault. I was the one who got played and yet everyone seems to believe otherwise."

"The evidence is pretty clear." The brunette grits his teeth.

Jiwoo slowly leans over as if any faster and the men's radar would latch onto him. "Shouldn't you do something?" He whispers.

I shrug and look at him, "They're only yelling right now. I don't have to do anything until the-"

The sound of someone crashing against a column cuts me off. I look over and find the brunette pushing off of the pillar, anger steaming off of him. The blonde drops into a fighting stance.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, "Now I do something." I mumble, quite annoyed that they would cause such a scene when they're dead. It's not like they could kill each other here.

I stalk closer to the brawling men who now have a fistful of each other's shirts. When I'm a few steps away, I clear my throat loudly to get their attention.

They both glance at me for a second before returning to staring at each other.

"Leave us alone, sweetheart." The blonde says lowly.

"This is none of your business." The brunette adds.

I scoff, "Actually, this is entirely my business seeing as you are acting ridiculous in my hotel."

The men land a few punches on each other but remain close.

"You want to kill each other?" I wonder but the men don't answer, "You're already dead so there's no point in trying."

Both men pause, look at me, then back at each other. And a new kind of fury is awoken in them.

"YOU GOT ME KILLED?" They both scream just as I was thinking they were going to back down.

They begin going at each other again but this time with more anger and all I can do is groan. After giving them a couple seconds, I walk towards them to pull them apart. I grab both of their arms and before I can 'magically' send them flying away from each other, the men swing the arms I'm grabbing. With their combined force aimed at my stomach, I'm sent skidding backwards on my side across the floor.

When I finally stop sliding, I jump to my feet, ready to kick both of their asses. But when I look up, Mun Hee is restraining the blonde one while the brunette is being shoved backwards by a guest.

"Hey, cool down man. Cool down." The guest says and my ears instantly recognize his voice: Wonwoo's.

"(y/n), you okay?" Jiwoo jogs over to my side, worried.

I swat at my pants, "I'm fine." I answer him without taking my eyes off of Wonwoo as he stands in front of the brunette male.

"You probably shouldn't have told them they were dead." Jiwoo states and I shoot him a glare. He frowns and nervously glances around the lobby.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" I clasp my hands behind my back and look at the brunette then the blonde with cold eyes. They both instantly realize they may have screwed up and lower their defenses.

"If you would've actually stopped to look at where you were, you would've stopped at the front desk and understood what was going on." I explain as they step closer, Wonwoo and Mun Hee not far behind. "And what is going on is that you both have died. Congrats." I give them a sarcastic smile. "And unfortunately, your souls don't have another life lined up so." I gesture to the hotel, "You have come here to greet your past lives once more before heading to the place where your soul will rest peacefully.... Hopefully." I say, mumbling the last word in disgust.

The men look at each other in a bit of shame and embarrassment.

"From my understanding," I continue, "You both died because you were fighting over some bitch-"

"She's not a bitch." Both males cut me off with the same sentence before sharing a menacing look which has Mun Hee and Wonwoo on alert for another fight.

"And you walked right into the street, where, well you know." I finish, ignoring their intrusion. My words sink in and they both soon realize that I'm being serious and am not joking, which turns them somewhat somber.

"So what do we do?" The blonde asks.

"You go get assigned a room, stay here for the duration of your lives, and then get the hell out of my hotel." I snarl. "Oh, and stay out of my sight. I'm already annoyed with you two."

"Oh, actually." Mun Hee chuckles and raises a hand, "He's supposed to go to Hotel Blue Moon." He points to the blonde male who's eyes widen.

"What is that?" The blonde asks, afraid it might be somewhere along the lines of hell. And man do I wish that is true.

I glower at the lobby wall, "It's the place where souls go before living another life." I say, ready to have a very strong word with the Gods.

"What about me?" The brunette wonders, glancing at me like he’s afraid to be left here in my hotel.

"Can I see your palm?" Mun Hee steps forward and examines the man's palm. "Hmm... You too. You're not supposed to be here."

With my annoyance nearing my tolerance levels, I turn away from the small group but before I walk away, I tell them, "Get out of my hotel."

Without waiting for them to respond, I walk away hoping for silence so I can mentally scream profanities at the Gods and Hotel Blue Moon. But instead of silence, I hear footsteps following me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to face the idiot following me.

And by idiot, I mean the man who let me sit in his book store for hours and the man I loved.

"Hi, sorry." Wonwoo nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Uh, I was just headed to the library." He makes up an excuse.

I press my lips together then point back the way we had come, "The library is back that way." I inform him.

He turns around and I use the chance to slip down an unknown hallway, hidden by a tapestry.

"Actually, I was..." I hear Wonwoo turn back around, "Going to ask if you were okay." He finishes before sighing.

I turn my head to the side and look down at the floor, listening to his footsteps retreat back towards the lobby. Part of me feels kind of bad for ditching him like that but another part of me doesn't want to get close to him until he's the soul I knew.

Which is going to take 6 days.

~The Sixth Day~

"What's wrong with you?" I ask Mun Hee who is laying on my couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"The Wonwoo guy asked me to bring him a bunch of supplies last night." He groans and I walk to my desk to add some more files to my growing stack.

"What kind of supplies?" I question and lean back against my desk.

"Books, paper, glue, binding, and some book covers if we had them." Mun Hee says and I chuckle because of course Wonwoo would want those supplies.

He was a bookseller when I knew him but he cared for books just as much and found a lot of joy in fixing old books.

"Ugh. My shoulders are killing me." Mun Hee rolls his shoulders backwards.

"You're already dead." I remind him.

"Way to shoot a man while he's down." Mun Hee sasses.

I shrug. "Eh."

"So much love." Mun Hee mutters.

I chuckle and move to sit in my desk. But before I can, the door opens and Yong pops just her head in.

"Hey, Wonwoo's in the garden." She informs me and I nod with a smile, "And have you seen Mun Hee? He disappeared a while ago and I haven't seen him anywhere."

I point to the couch and Yong steps into my office to look, "Right there."

"Mun Hee!" Yong raises her voice a touch, "Get back to work. Goodness, I am not your mother."

Mun Hee rises to his feet, "Feels like it sometimes." He grumbles and then follows Yong out of my office.

When I step into the hall, I hear their echos of laughter floating farther away. After securely closing my office doors, I turn down the hallway and head for the elevators. I rock back and forth in my heels anxiously while the elevator slowly approaches my floor. The elevator finally arrives and opens its doors. I quickly rush inside and furiously press the lobby floor button.

"Come on." I encourage it to go faster but hey, like everything else about this hotel, it doesn't listen to me.

Eons later, the elevator reaches the lobby and releases me from its squared hold. I rush out and nearly run into Jiwoo.

"Woah, hey, where's the fire?" He wonders as I continue past him.

"Can't keep my man waiting." I throw a wave at him over my head and his only response is laughter.

About halfway down the hall, I pause to control my breathing and straighten out my dress. After I'm satisfied with the way I look, at least the way I think I look, I walk the last little bit to the garden.

Peeking in, the midnight moonlight illuminates the area with a crisp, clean look. The bare tree somehow looks less dead but only very slightly. The usually hidden bench is out in front of the tree and its subsequent chrysanthemums. And sitting on the bench, with his nose buried in a book as per usual, is Wonwoo. A simple broad striped sweater hugs his shoulders and his glasses sit prominently on his nose. With one leg bent over the other and the book in his hands, he looks like the perfect gentleman.

"Took you long enough." Wonwoo comments and turns to the next page of his book, "I nearly finished three chapters while waiting for you."

I roll my eyes and walk around the bench, "I had things to do, Mr. I-can-read-500-pages-in-5-hours."

"That's a bit exaggerated." He closes one eye in thought but then breaks out into a smile. "Come here." Wonwoo grabs my hand, pulls me down, and securely wraps me in a hug. He doesn't care that his place in the book is lost as the front cover closes shut.

I chuckle and snuggle close into him.

"I missed you." He breathes out after a bit of silence.

"I did too." I mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Wonwoo shrugs and I readjust to be sitting properly. "It was what it was. I'm just glad to know that you weren't dead."

"Well, I can't exactly die." I give him a silly smile and nod towards the tree.

"I know that now." Wonwoo says a smile on his own lips. The smile that knocked me off my feet every day.

"What were you reading?" I ask, glancing at the book now in his lap.

Wonwoo picks it up and holds it out in front of us. "The one I've read a million times."

I squint my eyes in thought, "You've read a lot of books a million times, so which one is it?"

Wonwoo chuckles and knowing that I can still make him laugh with my mundaneness makes me very happy. "Sherlock Holmes." He says, setting the book aside.

"Is it still fun to read after the first time?" I wonder.

"Of course it is." Wonwoo answers as if I lost my marbles. "You get to go back and pick up on details that you missed during the first read."

"Yeah, but you have to read it all again." I give a small, shy smile.

"But you would rather spend all your time staring at me while I read." Wonwoo stretches out his arms arrogantly.

I hit his chest playfully and he retracts his arms while laughing.

"I heard you're the reason Mun Hee was in my office complaining about his back." I say following a groove in the tree with my eyes.

"Am I? Oh, is it from all the stuff I asked him for?" Wonwoo wonders then clicks his tongue, "I told him I could help if it was a lot. But he said he was fine so I just sat in my room."

"Sounds like something Mun Hee would do." I nod my head, "How did you like your room by the way?"

Wonwoo smiles contently, "I loved it. The wall of books was beautiful. You had all my favorites in there." He nudges my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Took me ages to find all of them. Some of them were quite old." I say with a slightly apologetic look.

But Wonwoo shakes his head, "Don't worry. I fixed them all."

I look at him in wonder, "You fixed all of them?" I ask.

He nods, "Yeah, most of them just needed some binding repairs and the rest weren't that hard to repair."

"So that's why you asked for the supplies and broke Mun Hee's back." I realize though I should've realized sooner.

Wonwoo laughs and my heart flutters happily at the sound. "That's why I needed the supplies."

"You didn't read all of them in that time, did you?" I double check and give him a questioning look.

He boops my nose and scrunches his face at me, "No I didn't. It took me a whole lifetime to read all those books."

"A whole lifetime." I repeat his words.

"How did you even find all those?" Wonwoo asks, playing with my hand, "I read most of those after you left."

I smile bashfully, "I kind of guessed."

'You guessed?" Now Wonwoo gives me the questioning look.

"After I left, I just kind of kept an ear open in the book world and sometimes I would come across a book that just felt like you would really enjoy. So I brought it back and started a collection in that room."

"But other guests use that room." Wonwoo pouts, feeling kind of jealous that other people would've read those books before him.

"Nah, only the right touch can get certain books off the shelf." I tell him with a knowing smile, "I made sure that no one but you or I would be able to read the special ones. To every other guest, it's just a really aesthetic wall."

"Well, look at my girl go." Wonwoo says smugly.

"So." I say, wanting to change the topic.

"So?" Wonwoo responds, turning his body slightly to face more towards me.

"I wanna know..." I pause.

"Mmhm?" He nods once, encouraging me to keep speaking.

"Did you end up married to your books or did some lucky girl come and steal your heart?" I ask with a genuine smile of curiosity.

Wonwoo chuckles but I notice the light behind his eyes dims ever so slightly. His chuckle dies down but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just looks at the tree, contemplating.

"You know I'm not mad if you did move on." I clarify, "I honestly wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I wanted you to find it after I left. You deserved that happiness."

I know Wonwoo hears me because he chews on the inside of his cheek but he still doesn't say anything.

"What you didn't deserve was falling into the pain of me and my punishment." I say apologetically, "It happened to twelve others and I never for a moment thought any of you deserved that pain."

Wonwoo wraps an arm around me and pulls me close again, "Oh, it's not your fault. It's that damn demon's and trust me if I ever get the chance to meet it, I will get revenge for what it did to you." He presses a kiss to my temple before whispering. "I did marry."

I smile and ignore the slight pain slicing through my heart. Even though my words about wanting his happiness are true, it still stings.

"I met her like 5 or 6 years after you left." Wonwoo recalls and the memories sparkle in his eyes, "She first started coming in and reading her own books. Then she'd come in and read the books I had on the shelves. Then she started to watch me while I repaired books."

"That must've been awkward." I giggle.

"It was at first." Wonwoo agrees, "But then she did something and I knew she was supposed to be in my life."

"What'd she do?" I ask, intrigued.

"Remember the first edition book you and I repaired together?" He wonders.

I nod, "How could I forget that? I was finding glue in random places for weeks."

Wonwoo chuckles at the memory, "You're the one knocked over the glue can."

"You're the one who put it on the edge of the table." I banter back.

"Anyway." Wonwoo squeezes my arm, "I kept it in a showcase box near the back of the store. Hardly anyone asked about it and those who did only wondered if it was for sale. But she, she inspected it and then asked if I had put it together."

"And what did you tell her?" I probed.

"I told her that I had repaired with someone special. I think she could see or hear the bit of sadness in my voice cause she didn't dig deeper." Wonwoo explains, "So then I asked her what made her think that we'd done it by hand. And she," He laughs, "She said cause the back cover was crooked and on the part that poked out, she could see some writing. Somehow made out my name."

I chuckle and think back to the night we stayed up for hours trying to decide what to write there. Like it was our will that would go down in history as the most important document ever. The warm tea cup in my hands and the burning candles that painted the room in rustic comfort.

"And then that was that really. We dated for a while, got married. and then we raised three kids." Wonwoo continues his story.

"Three kids?" I inquire.

Wonwoo nods proudly, "Three. Changkyun was my oldest then came the twins, Soyou and Lisa. Changkyun protected the girls well and the girls grew up tough all thanks to him."

"Nah, I'm sure you had a large part in that too." I reassure him. "You were always tougher than I. Even in future lives." I reference the first day of his stay.

"Oh, I totally was going to ask you if you were okay that day, but you just disappeared." Wonwoo remembers and pouts that he didn't get the chance to ask then. "Part of the punishment I'm guessing."

"Actually I don't know. I never really tried so I don't know if it's against the rules or not." I admit. "But I, uh, I didn't want to find out."

Wonwoo gives me an understanding look, "Totally understand. It couldn't have been easy being stuck here for all those years."

"For the first hundred years, it was awful." I tell him, "But after that, I grew numb to the passing of time. It just kind of happened like that."

"So while you were numb to time, I was terribly sensitive to the passing of time." Wonwoo ponders the thought.

"Kids grow up too fast?" I guess.

Wonwoo looks at me with confusion cause how am I supposed to know what it's like to have kids.

"I overhear guests chatting with each other and a big part of the conversations are kids and how they just grow up so fast." I explain pointing a thumb behind us towards the hotel.

"Ah, I see." Wonwoo murmurs, "But yeah. They just kept growing and then all of a sudden, my wife and I were empty nesters and then a second later, we had grey hairs on our heads and grand babies in our arms. Completely crazy."

I giggle at his amazement, "So what did your kids end up doing?" I ask and he dives into the stories of his children and his life with them.

I sit and listen to his low voice tell the tales of the bookstore, how some years the store would be overrun with teens and then next year it would be filled with fresh out of college adults. He immerses himself in the ocean of stories from his life while I float along the with the waves and let his voice take me through the stories.

All too soon, though, the setting sun freezes the ocean and my tree's crooked branches set me back in reality.

"The setting sun always represented an end with another beginning." Wonwoo stares at the western windows where the last rays of sunlight are slowly being swallowed up by the night. "But this one is just an end."

I stare at his face, hoping to memorize all the pieces I missed before. Like he does during a second or third read of a book.

"For your worldly soul, it's an end." I say, "But for your true soul, it's the start of an eternity of peace."

"What do you think happens on the other side?" He asks, looking back at me.

I give a small shrug, "I don't know, but you'll find out today and someday I'll find out too."

"Could it be like the books?" Wonwoo wonders.

"Depends on which book." I tell him with a tender smile.

"Touché." He tilts his head. "You know," He leans closer to me, "I know I have to go, but I really don't want to." Wonwoo giggles.

I laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "But we do." I remind him, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.

Wonwoo sighs, "We do." He repeats and stands up before helping me up. "Were you always this fashionable?" He asks after looking me up and down.

I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, yes, and fashion has changed since we were together."

Wonwoo grabs my hand and swings it between us as we walk, "Well, the change looks absolutely stunning on you."

The lobby is quiet as the hotel's opening hours are just around the corner. We quickly make it to the back door and like a gentleman, Wonwoo opens the door for me.

The cool night air rushes by us and we both stand on the landing just taking in the scene.

"Remember the night by the river?" Wonwoo wonders when he starts walking towards the forest, Shin, and the car that will take him.

"The night when you said you loved me?" I ask and he nods, "The air feels the same, doesn't it?"

"Exactly the same. " Wonwoo nods, gripping my hand tighter. "Do you think the Gods are doing this on purpose?"

I look up at the dark sky that's littered with tiny little lights from thousands of miles away. "At this point, I'm certain everything that happens to me is because they," I point upwards, "Want it to happen."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to thank them for letting me happen to you." Wonwoo smiles and I feel his eyes on me.

Lowering my gaze, I meet his gaze, "But I caused you pain. Like freakishly awful pain."

Wonwoo shrugs, "Still don't regret meeting you." He says as we reach the car.

Shin has the door open and is waiting patiently.

"This is the end of my worldly journey then." Wonwoo comments, glancing at the forest and its fog.

"Now you can rest. Forever." I place my hands on his cheeks and he rests one of his on top of mine.

"You know, hearing it now, it isn't as scary as I initially thought." He says a placid smile on his lips.

I kiss him through a smile, "Says the man who would be willing to jump from the highest heights just for the thrill." I mumble against his lips.

"Answer me this, will you?" He asks and rests his forehead against mine. I nod and he asks, "If you were to have met me without a punishment, would you have stayed with me?"

I stare into his eyes and move to rest my arms on his shoulders, "Till the very end." I say with honesty rallying behind me.

"That's all I need to hear." Wonwoo says then presses another kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are glossy but I know he won't cry. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers.

"I love you too." I tell him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears.

Wonwoo pulls away and lowers himself into the car. After Shin shuts the door behind him, the car drives into the fog.

The tires crunch over the gravel road and Shin stops next to me.

"That was the bookseller?" He asks.

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"He was a good man. He shall be very comfortable." Shin reassures me and walks back into the hotel.

With Shin gone, I let the tears fall freely. Letting the tears fill with the sadness and pain of being left then let them fall and land wherever they please. My heart cracks into a million pieces and it takes everything within me to keep it from exploding into more pieces. It is then that a white chrysanthemum withers away in my garden.

After a while, the moon has risen high into the sky and my tears have dry though my heart hasn't stopped aching. But even now, I have a hotel to run and others to wait for. So I run my hands through my hair, detangling it, and wipe away the left over tears. Just as Wonwoo always told me, I straighten out my shoulders, hold my head level, and walk back into the hotel with purpose.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Did you ever think today would come?" Wonwoo wonders.

"I knew it would come but I just could never definitively say when it would come." I tell him, "Like when an author has a story and a perfect plot in their mind but putting it on paper is harder than imagined and they’re not sure if the story will ever leave their mind."

“Good analogy.” Wonwoo chuckles, “Come on. Your story has left the author's mind." We stand up together and I instantly grab his hand. Like a child latching onto their favorite toy.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"Hey, Mun Hee." Wonwoo calls out, "I would've helped you with the supplies. You didn't have to carry them by yourself and hurt your back."

Mun Hee vigorously shakes his head, "No, no. I didn't hurt myself, I'm just sore. I haven't worked my body like that in ages." He gives excuses.

"Well, you should start again. Who knows what other guests will request." Wonwoo advises and Mun Hee gives him a thumbs up.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks and looks at me with tears appearing in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears and I hear Wonwoo chuckle behind me.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Wonwoo grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Wonwoo and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Wonwoo softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Wonwoo securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

[hold-me-sickfics]

14 Days: J-Hope (Part 2!)

Alright y’all, here’s part 2!

TW: Tiny emeto mention, food, anxiety/panic attacks, hospital, nightmares (let me know if you see any I missed!)

Also, huge thank you to @thatoneemokpop-02 for all their help and ideas <3 They’re amazing!

----

Yoongi was ready to do whatever he needed to in order to help Hoseok recover. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was almost 8:00 a.m. The other members would be here at 9:00 to pick them up. Yoongi looked over at the sleeping boy, smiling a bit as Hoseok’s chest rose and fell. He went to Hoseok’s side. 

“Good morning Hobi.”

Hoseok woke up to Yoongi rubbing his arm softly.

“Morning Yoongi,” Hoseok still felt exhausted. Unfortunately, sleeping in a hospital was well… IMPOSSIBLE. All throughout the night, nurses had been coming in to check on him. He hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour at a time all night.

“I know you’re still tired bud. We’re gonna get you home and then you can sleep all you need to. Not to mention, I’m gonna be the one keeping track of what you eat.”

“No, Yoongi…” Hoseok pouted, knowing his fast food would now be limited.

“Yes baby. Your doctor came in this morning to check on you and he told me that you collapsed partially because you weren’t eating right.”

Hoseok sighed.

“My doctor’s a snitch.”

“No, you’re just bad at keeping track of your health when you get focused in on something.” Yoongi laughed and Hoseok looked at him with an annoyed glare.

Yoongi packed up everything Jin had sent in the bag the night before.

“Relax,” he laughed. “I won’t be totally crazy. You can still have some junk food.”

“Can we get McDonalds’ on the way home?”

“No.”

“Okay then see? You’re robbing me of the essentials.”

Yoongi laughed, and looked back at Hoseok who was partially smiling.

“Hey uh, Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“I um… I think we have a problem.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi came over to Hoseok who was holding his phone.

“Namjoon’s called three times, Jin called four, and the maknaes have called nine times altogether.”

“Well… better call them back. I can talk to them if you’re feeling too tired.”

“Nah, I’ll call them. I know you’re just as tired as me. Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything.”

Hoseok took Yoongi’s hands.

“Go get yourself some breakfast. You gotta take care of yourself too.”

Yoongi hated to admit it, but Hoseok was kinda right. Since he’d been so focused on Hoseok’s health, he’d forgotten about his own.

“Okay, but don’t you dare try to get up on your own. I’ll be back in a few minutes alright?” Yoongi rubbed Hoseok’s shoulder, and then left to get food.

He ate nearly three bites of biscuit, and a piece of bacon. It was all he could stomach with Hoseok on his mind. He threw away his garbage and headed back to Hoseok’s room. He found it swarming with doctors. He pressed his way through and saw them laying Hoseok down.

“Mr. Jung, you can’t get up on your own yet. It’s only going to make your injuries worse.” The nurse closest to him looked in his eyes to try and strengthen her words.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I get someone next time. Thanks.” Hoseok grimaced and ran his hand down his injured leg.

“Hoseok…”

“Crap.” Hoseok knew he messed up. Yoongi was already worried, and he’d no doubt just made it worse.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you. I’m so sorry…”

Yoongi hated to pull this stunt, but if he was gonna get Hoseok to take care of himself, he needed to pull it off.

“No, Yoongi it was my fault. I was stupid. I’ll be more careful.”

“No, it was my fault. I could have waited to eat when we got home but I was being selfish…” Yoongi wanted Hoseok to understand what a careless act could cause a caretaker to feel like. With that, hopefully Hoseok would try to take better care of himself in an effort to keep Yoongi feeling like he was doing a good job. Psychology chaos? Yes. Crucial to Hoseok’s recovery? Also, yes.

“Yoongi, stop. I wanted to get up to prove to myself I could. I was gonna do it at home if I didn’t do it here. It wasn’t your fault alright?”

Yoongi knew Hoseok. That annoyance in his voice wasn’t directed at the situation. He was terrified that he wasn’t able to walk or stand on his own.

“Okay. I just… I don’t want you to hurt yourself worse…”

This was true. Yoongi was worried for Hoseok, and rightfully so. He’d just lost his independence and his ability to do the thing he loved. The boy wasn’t only broken physically, but emotionally as well.

“I know.” Hoseok looked down at his leg. It was already casted, black as he’d requested. Perhaps he was feeling a little negative…

Yoongi sat down on the bed next to his injured boyfriend.

“It’s gonna be alright Hobi. I promise.”

Hoseok broke, crashing into Yoongi’s neck in tears.

“I hate this so much.” He sobbed, and Yoongi held him close, as he would have a child.

“I know you do. We’re gonna get through this together okay?”

Hoseok couldn’t answer, his breaths were too ragged and his voice too small.

Yoongi kissed his head, and kept holding him.

After a few minutes, Hoseok stopped crying, just allowing Yoongi to hold him. He wished he could wake up from this nightmare. He was living his worst fear. Not being able to dance… if he couldn’t dance, what was he supposed to do? Lie around and be helpless? Lose his position in the band? What if Yoongi got tired of him and just dumped him? What if-

“Hoseok! Hey, hey, easy. Easy.”

Hoseok came back to reality, realizing that he had just had a minor anxiety attack. Those seemed to be more common under the current circumstances. His breathing slowed, and he released his white-knuckled grip on Yoongi’s hoodie.

“There we go. Breathe.” Yoongi knew what anxiety could do to a person, so he was also good at soothing attacks.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Hoseok had finally caught his breath.

“Alright. I’m gonna go pack our bag up, and then it’ll be time for the guys to come get us. By the way, did you call them?”

“Yeah. They’re getting me moved into your room.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easier for me to help you if you need it.” Yoongi knew that “if” was just for courtesy. From his research, he knew Hoseok wouldn’t even be able to pee without him holding him up.

Hoseok got a text from Jimin that they were at the front door. Yoongi called the nurse, and she came in and helped with getting Hoseok in the wheelchair. In no time, Hoseok was loaded into the van, and the boys were on their way home.

They arrived at the apartment, and immediately the maknaes went into “must help hyung” mode. They were sent to the kitchen to make some sort of healthy brunch while Yoongi helped Hoseok shower.

“Okay we can’t get this boot wet, so let’s just have you sit here and- “

“Oh no no no, Yoongi please let me keep this shred of dignity. I am not sitting in a shower chair.”

“Yes, you are. Baby, if you wanna get better faster, you gotta do what it takes to recover.”

“Fine, but I better get a lot of cuddling after this.”

“I swear on AGUST-D’s album cover, I will cuddle the daylights out of you Jung Hoseok. Now, let’s get these clothes off.”

Yoongi was gentle in taking off Hoseok’s clothes. Soon, he was in the shower, sitting in the chair, and allowing Yoongi to wash his feet and legs (as much as he could). He let Hoseok handle his upper half and privates.

Yoongi turned the water off, and handed Hoseok a towel to dry himself off with. Yoongi would have gladly done it for him, but he thought it would be better for Hoseok’s mental health to remain as independent as possible. He did have to help Hoseok get dressed and back in his wheelchair, but overall, the experience was pretty good for Hoseok. He came out of it smiling.

“There he is. Ready for brunch Hobi? The boys destroyed the kitchen, but they’re proud.” Namjoon laughed as another blast of flour came out the kitchen doorway.

“YAH! Do not throw ingredients that is not what they’re- JEON JUNGKOOK!”

“I sent Jin in there to help them… It seems to be going well…” He laughed, partially concerned for Jin’s mental stability at the moment.

“Ha, yeah let’s see how they did.” Yoongi wheeled Hoseok into the dining room, and into the spot the boys had already made for him.

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

“Oops…”

“Jimin. That was my special pot.”

“I can glue it!” Taehyung popped up out of nowhere with a glue gun.

“No! NO. You cannot use a glue gun on a… Ah shoot. Boys, just take brunch in there and I’ll sweep this up.”

The boys came in with several plates and bowls full of food.

“Bon appetite.” Jungkook smiled as he handed out clean plates and silverware.

“As you see here, we have blueberry muffins, chocolate chip pancakes, various fruits, toast, orange juice and milk. Anything else we can get for you?”

“Nah, guys you’ve done awesome. It’s nice to come home to good food, and all this support.” Hoseok smiled, and the entire maknae line practically crushed him in a hug.

“We’ve got you hyung. Don’t you worry.” Taehyung ruffled Hoseok’s thick, black hair.

“Thanks guys.”

“Alright, let’s leave these two for a bit. Yoongi, Hoseok, we thought you two would want to work out a routine, so I’ve got these guys coming with Jin and I to the store and to run a few other errands. We’ll be back after supper I believe.”

“Sounds good.” Hoseok started on the chocolate chip pancakes, relishing each bite he took.

The others left, and he and Yoongi were left by themselves.

“Well baby, we’ve got a lot to do today.”

Hoseok looked at him, confused.

“Yoongi, I can’t… I can’t do anything remember?”

“Oh yes you can. We are going upstairs to watch a movie because I promised you cuddles. Then, we’re gonna come down here after a nap and we’re gonna make pizza for supper. When the boys come back, we’re gonna hang with them, and then you and I are going to work on songs because I have the attention span of a squirrel when I have to work alone.”

“Yoongi, you and I both know that’s not true.”

“Okay well I still get lonely, so you’re coming with me.”

Hoseok smiled at Yoongi’s attempt to fill the time.

“Can um… can I ask a favor?”

“Anything baby.”

“Can we nap first? I’m honestly exhausted and I still feel sore from practicing so much.”

“Let’s do it babe.”

Hoseok smiled, and Yoongi wheeled him to the bedroom.

“Okay on the count of three. “One, two, three!”

Yoongi lifted Hoseok onto the bed, and then tucked him in, ensuring that his feet were covered up and warm as well.

Hoseok moaned in comfort.

“It feels so good to actually lie down and not feel bad about it.”

Yoongi slid into his “little spoon” position.

“What do you mean?”

“I used to feel guilty when I was resting too much. It was like I was neglecting my work.”

“Crap Hoseok, why didn’t you tell me you were so worried about that?”

“Because you and I both know I wouldn’t have stopped. Then, you’d have been worried and I’d have still gotten hurt.”

“Okay maybe you’re not wrong.” Yoongi knew Hoseok would have still worked himself that hard, but he did wish he could have helped.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok’s voice was already thick, he was falling asleep quickly.

“Hmmm?”

“If I need to, can I wake you up?”

“Of course, you can. Anything you need, I’ll take care of you okay? Just rest.”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around Yoongi and nodded before dozing off to sleep.

Yoongi woke up to Hoseok breathing quickly and gagging. He jerked awake, and immediately placed his hand on Hoseok’s back.

“Woah, woah, okay easy. I’m awake. You’re not alone. You’re safe.”

“Y-Yoongi?” Hoseok burst into tears and gagged again.

Yoongi did what he had always done when Hoseok was having anxiety attacks. He wrapped his arms around him securely, and grabbed his hands so he couldn’t dig his nails into his palms.

“I’ve got you.”

“C-can’t see.”

Yoongi looked at Hoseok, his eyes closed tightly.

“It’s alright baby. You’re feeling scared, but when you open your eyes, you’ll be able to see.

Hoseok shook in Yoongi’s arms. He opened his eyes, still breathing quickly.”

“Can see now…” Hoseok started to breathe more normally.

Yoongi thumbed over Hoseok’s clenched hands.

“Feel a little better now baby?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Hoseok was still shaking, but he seemed calmer than he had been before.

“What happened?” Yoongi kissed Hoseok’s hands.

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Can’t.”

“Okay. That’s alright.” Yoongi just kept rubbing soothing motions over Hoseok’s hands.

“Would you l-leave me if… if I couldn’t… if I couldn’t dance anymore?” Hoseok felt his entire body freeze.

Yoongi’s eyes softened as he heard Hoseok’s question. That must have been the nightmare.

“Hoseok, I’m never leaving your side. Ever. You’re going to get better, but even if you didn’t, you are mine. I’m not losing you. I’d rather lose everything I have than lose you.”

Hoseok’s eyes glistened with a sheen of tears.

“And something else. Back before BigHit found me, I could barely support myself. I would write songs, and sell them just to make enough money to eat. Some days, I didn’t eat. And you know what?”

Hoseok was silent, but paying close attention.

“I’d do it all again if it meant I would be right here with you. Right now. I wouldn’t have chosen any other path. I can’t live without you Hoseok. You’re everything to me. So, no. No matter what happens, I would never leave you.”

Hoseok was again, in tears. Yoongi hugged him, and Hoseok melted into his embrace.

It was then that, even though things would be hard, Hoseok knew Yoongi would be there to support him through it all, and everything would be alright.

4 ½ months later…

“Jungkook, what was that?” Hoseok walked over to Jungkook, who had tried to get by with lazily going through a rather difficult part of the choreography.

“Sorry Hyung…” the maknae sighed, sorrier he’d been caught than anything.

“Okay, let’s go again. Five, six, seven, eight…”

The music blared, and Hoseok grinned as he led the choreography practice once again.