#why did I do this instead of sleeping it’s nearly 3 am lol

[written-in-flowers]

Hi, keep up the amazing work, I really love your hotd-posts! I really want to request something fluffy (and a lil angsty?) for Aegon, I just want to read about him being both miserable and happy.

So imagine rumors spreading across the castle after a servant walks into a noblewoman's chambers, only to find Aegon embraced and fast asleep on her chest. It is not exactly helping when Aegon later practically begs his mother to arrange for her hand in marriage. Everyone either assumes it is to protect her honor, although Aegon is not exactly known to respect the dignity of the many women he takes. Perhaps the lady gave the whore prince an unforgettable night unlike any other, what other reason could there be? Turns out nothing dishonorable happened. Aegon just stumbled in tipsy into her chambers, they drank together for a while and Aegon ended up drunkenly crying his heart out and falling asleep in her arms while she comforted him.

I feel like he is so deprived from love that just a crumble of care, love and nurturing is enough to have that man on his knees lol. Thank you so much again for your work and I hope the idea sounds OK <3

A/N: I used young!Aegon because I imagine him having been more vulnerable at that age, but nothing sexual happens anyways. Idk if this is gonna go how you expected, but here you go hun <3

***

"Forgive me, Your Grace, but...what?"

Nerves swirled around in your stomach as you sat before the queen. She stood a few feet from you in her gown of green and gold, a golden headband keeping back her tresses of brown curls. A regal queen. A graceful woman. A mother. You knew partly why she'd summoned you to her chambers so early in the morning. It'd been because of the young prince, Aegon.

"My son, the prince," she said more firmly, "He wishes to marry you instead of his sister. Why is that?"

You nearly told her 'You answered your own question, Your Grace,' but quickly held your tongue in. You'd done enough damage letting the boy climb into your bed. You wouldn't do yourself any favors insulting the royal family on top of that. Sighing, you answered:

"I suppose because he thinks himself in love with me."

Queen Alicent huffed, "And why would he? Did you give my incorrigible son a night he'd never forget?"

"In a sense, I suppose."

"Lady Y/N," she stepped forward, "If my son...If my son forced himself on you, you may tell me. Whatever transgressions or shame my son has brought onto you will stay within this room. Do not feel you have to hide anything."

"I am not, Your Grace," you nearly laughed. "Prince Aegon never touched me. I swear by all the gods, he did not."

"Then what happened?"

"Well...He'd come into my chambers after the welcoming feast. I saw him stumbling around and looking a bit lost. He...He fell onto my bed. I planned to go tell his guards, but nobody was there. But then..." you weren't sure if you should tell her. It'll be frankly, quite awkward, if you did.

"But then what?"

“He called me ‘Mother’.”

She appeared stunned by this. You continued, “I told him I wasn’t his mother, obviously, but that I’d have someone go get you so you may take care of him. Then he said...He said not to bother. He said that his mother didn’t love him anyways, and that wouldn’t care what happened to him anyways.”

It was quite sad. You’d stood there in your bed chamber, preparing for a night’s sleep, when your door opened. You thought it’d be your handmaiden with tea or one of your household, but no. It’d been the young prince who came sauntering into your chambers. Knowing his reputation, a pang of shock did hit you for a moment. You’d heard what he does to women and girls in his service, and you worried you might be next. Yet, instead the prince slumped down onto your bed. 

‘I can’t find my room in this damnable castle,’ he’d exclaimed. ‘May I stay here, Mother?’

‘My prince, you must leave. Your mother’s chambers are just down the hall-”

‘Ah, she doesn’t care anyways. She’ll just scold me for being drunk, tell me how I’m ruining the family image and reputation by carrying on how I do, and I don’t...I don’t want to hear it tonight.’

You pitied him. Perhaps the boy hoped to escape his princely duties in his cups instead of performing them. You’d seen how he was during Lady Laena’s funeral this morning: bored, indifferent and disinterested. Admittedly, you felt the same, but didn’t show it as blatantly. You’d only been invited because your family is one of the minor bannermen to House Velaryon; your family said it was expected. You hardly knew Lady Laena except in passing at gatherings, but you still paid your condolences and remained respectful. It was unbefitting a prince to get drunk at a gathering of a dead relative and make a fool of himself. It was even more unbefitting for him to be passing out on a lady’s bed in the middle of the night. 

‘I’m sure your mother cares deeply, my prince.’

‘I assure you, my lady, she does not. She’s made it clear on many occasions what a disappointment I am to her and my father. The man has had sixteen years to name me heir, and he never has. Why? Because, look at me. I’m...this...’ he gestured idly around, face half buried in your pillow. 

You’d gone over to him, making sure to keep your distance the entire time. He smell of strongwine and salty air. He didn’t even remove his cloak from his body when he laid down. You pushed strands of wavy blond hair from his face. It appeared quite unruly compared to the sleek blond locks of the rest of the Targaryen clan. 

‘Despite what she might say, your mother still loves you. A mother’s love is something that is unconditional. I’m sure she says those things not to hurt or criticize you, but you try helping you see the error of your ways. She is only helping you so you don’t fail in life; yes, there is the matter of your image and having to uphold your family’s reputation, but those are things that greatly impact a person’s life unfortunately.’

‘It’s all she cares about...because of Them...She’s never once asked me what I desire or care about. Nothing I’ve done has ever been enough for her. It never will be. I’m always doing something wrong in her eyes. No matter what it is.’ 

You’d spent most of the night listening to the prince’s personal problems; the sort of problems a sober person never says out loud. You weren’t sure what exactly to say other than comforting things. Your heart went out to him. You had your own insecurities and problems, which you felt comfortable airing out to him. Considering how he could barely stand without falling, you allowed him to stay in your room. You helped him out of his cloak and boots, gave him water, and let him lay in your arms. It felt nice having someone to hold, and warm your cold bed. Nothing truly transpired between either of you except long talks about parents, duties, insecurities, and uncertainty of life. He told you about his betrothal to his sister, whom he had nothing in common with and did not want to marry. You told him about the lordling your family has promised you to, who once ate butter thinking it was custard. It never occurred to you that you, an unwed woman, should not let Prince Aegon, an unwed man who is known to take what he pleases, be in your bed. 

That is, until the next morning when your maid found Prince Aegon passed out beside you. You’d stammered the story to her, but the damage was done. Aegon shuffled out of your room, clothes and hair still messy, talking about how he’d make her see reason. What he said to her, you’re not sure, but you knew now what claim he’d made. 

“He said this to you?” she asked, stunned and saddened. 

“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. He did not linger on the subject for long, though. He was drunk. I’m sure it was the strongwine talking.” 

You wouldn’t tell her what else he’d said. Those words were between you and Aegon. “My son told me something interesting, Lady Y/N.”

“Your Grace?”

“He bargained for the betrothal,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “He said if I broke off his betrothal to Helaena, he’d stop drinking. He said he’d stop drinking, stop whoring, stop shirking his duties and be what the realm expects him to be. He said he couldn’t see himself being a better man without someone who makes him want to be good in the first place.” 

“And what did you say, Your Grace?”

“I told him I’d consider it.” She stepped closer to you, “Tell me, Lady Y/N, if my son marries you, would you help him become his best? Your family is well known for their piety and abstinence. Your parents wouldn’t agree to a match if Aegon continued to be as he is.” 

‘To be honest, Your Grace, I hardly knew Aegon before last night. I still do not truly know him, but I can see him.”

“Him?”

“The person inside.”

The boy who wants to be held and told that he’s loved no matter his actions. The boy who drowns his misery with wine. 

“I cannot promise to change him overnight, Your Grace. People like your son cannot give up their vices right away, but I will be there for him. I shall be there in his lowest moments to lift him up and hold his hand through the most difficult parts. As his wife, I will perform the duties expected of me and more."

The Queen continued studying you for a moment, then nodded quietly. "The King and I will think on this. You may go now, Lady Y/N."

You bowed to her and let her lady escort you out. Nervousness made you walk on shaky legs despite your best to keep a steady stride. Neither of you did anything wrong. You'd only comforted the prince when he needed it. Had he truly said he'd change if he married you? You doubted that. Boys often say ridiculous things when in the euphoria of infatuation. You're sure Her Grace would see that and deny the marriage. You don't have to worry much.

...But, should she allow it, being queen wouldn't be so bad. Influencing Aegon to change can lead to you influencing him to do other things as well. Such as bending laws to your family's benefit or getting them higher positions in the world. It might not be bad at all.

Perhaps you would give Aegon a special night time visit...

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 6

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger" Warnings lol: blood and violence <3

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

Was going through her sister’s phone unethical? Sure. Was this whole thing a huge fucking risk she shouldn’t be taking? Certainly. Was she doing it anyway?

Hell, yes, she was.

After going their separate ways, Osha turned over the half-promise she’d given the stranger two days ago. 

I’ll think about it.

It was a curse. Here, in the unforgiving clarity of Wednesday, she could think about nothing else. Training with someone who saw potential and value in her sounded better than heaven.

But he’d left her with no way to give him her answer. He told her he couldn’t risk stopping by the Temple as often as he had been. I am banned, you know.

That was how she justified this insanity. I have no way of getting through to him like normal, and Mae was the only person who regularly met with him. She’s the best bet for finding him. And besides, she’s been lying to me for two years; I deserve to be a little ethically questionable.

Even still, the air was thick with tension—but that could’ve just been steam from the shower.

None of the contacts she scrolled through looked like they fit the stranger. Would she even save his number in her phone? She checked the text threads next, her eyes entirely focused on the unsaved numbers. Perhaps resignation had her gliding past the threads with Sol, and the multiple group chats Mae was a part of—places where Osha didn’t belong.

She must have deleted his shit the second she cut ties with him.

Osha bit down hard on her lower lip to bury her frustration. Where else, where else…

NYAAAAA!

“Fucksake, Pip, don’t be a fucking narc,” she whispered, removing the kitten from the room and resuming her shady behavior.

Mae dropped a bottle in the shower, nearly sending Osha jumping out of the window in fright. It was a miracle she stayed quiet. She refocused, ignoring the slight tremble of her fingers. 

Oh shit, why didn’t she check there first?

She found the list of blocked numbers in Mae’s call records and, instead of screenshotting it and sending it to herself, took a picture of the screen with her phone. It was old school, but it left no trace.

One of these better be him.

Mae shut off the shower, and Osha quickly put her phone back where it had been and walked out of the room without looking back. She was jumpy through dinner, but since she and Mae still weren’t talking, she didn’t have to explain herself.

Afterward, she retreated to her room and performed a round of isometric poses to steady her nerves. It helped soothe the persistent ache in her leg immensely. The pleasant burn in her calf licked flames across where her ligaments usually felt brittle and iced over. Doing the exercises before bed was a double-edged sword: on one hand, she’d be warm and loose all night; on the other… it made her think of him.

The dreams left her feeling hotter than the exercises did.

What was it Mae said? You’re playing with fire? It certainly felt like it—but in this weather, she didn’t mind a bit of heat.

To temper her obsession a little, she gave herself only ten minutes to research each phone number from the photo. She quickly ruled out telemarketers, spam numbers, and various persons who wanted to contact Mae about her car’s extended warranty.

The last number on her list felt… different. It brought up zero results online, not even on a reverse number lookup. She’d been about to type it into her phone to send a probing text, but her ten minutes were up. She couldn’t get in over her head, lest the stranger consume too much of her life before she knew his name.

And what if this wasn’t even his number? She didn’t want to go to sleep disappointed if the gamble didn’t pan out. She saved the number in her phone as ? and tried not to think about it.

Everything seemed to have lost its shine on her next shift at the cafe. The coffee smelled stale, and she could not ignore her sticky hands like she used to. Every painful hour spent on her feet felt like an eternity. She needed something new.

She’d needed a lot of something new for a while now.

The silence between her and Mae continued at home. The next time family dinner rolled around, she excused herself. She only saw Sol and Mae at the Temple.

Even the classes Sol led felt off. Try as she might to put in maximum effort, she’d grown out of Sol’s tentative instruction. Her jabs landed harder on the heavy bags, some sounding like thunderclaps that split the empty air. Her legs itched to kick and thrash beneath her despite the backlash it would yield in the gym.

She even tried a few kicks on the bag in the apartment gym, which saw more of her the following week than in the last six months. What it didn’t see was the stranger.

The stranger had her fucked up. Big time.

She couldn’t rely on luck or coincidence when she wanted to see him anymore. Next time she got lucky, she promised herself, she would get his damn number at the very least.

“This is a shit idea,” Osha muttered to herself as she walked down the street. “You’re fucking nuts, Osha.”

She’d been so focused on watching out for black ice on the sidewalk that she didn’t see that the Unknown Planet neons were all off until she’d opened the front door halfway, finding nothing but pitch-black silence within.

Every light was off, save for one at the far wall from the door. Osha stepped back a little, letting the door fall shut. The operation hours stared back at her: moonrise to sunrise.

Under the perpetually overcast sky of winter, she couldn’t tell, but she was pretty sure it was a new moon. You can’t have a moonrise with no moon, she reasoned.

But then, why was the door still open?

Osha retrieved her can of bear spray from her backpack and flicked off the safety with her thumb. She entered the empty bar quietly, on cat-light feet. When the door closed behind her, the cacophony of the city changed to a stark, screeching silence. She didn’t dare move a muscle.

Her eyes acclimated to the darkness, her ears to the silence. Very faintly, she made out the sounds of raised voices, cheers, and jeers. She stayed alert as she crept around tables crowned with upturned chairs. She stopped to listen again when she reached the singular lit sconce at the end of the cavernous bar.

The noise had grown louder, but Osha could still hear the familiar ding-ding! of a match bell. Was there a boxing gym upstairs? Nobody at the Temple cheered that loud at the events hosted there.

A set of stairs she hadn’t seen a week ago led up to a steel door on a small landing. A tattooed and bored bouncer wasn’t looking down the staircase at her; instead, he was peering through the small window in the door, looking in on whatever was happening inside.

Osha pulled back into the darkness. What was she doing? She was in an unfamiliar area of the city, chasing down hope of seeing a guy whose name she didn’t know, and she had no way of knowing where her damned curiosity would take her. She thumbed off the safety on her bear spray but kept the tube tucked in her sleeve just in case.

The bouncer frowned as she walked up the stairs. Up close, she could see two matching cauliflower ears, a split lip, and neck tattoos—and explicit confirmation that he was built like a brick shithouse. Osha met his eyes anyway, saying nothing.

“You’re coming in pretty late, miss. Half the fights are already done.” His voice was as gravelly and deep as she imagined, but the politeness took her a little off guard.

She tried channeling Mae as she told a small lie. “I was told the wrong time.”

The bouncer looked her over with a more critical eye, grunting. “Well. Hope whoever told you gets their shit rocked tonight.”

He opened the door for her, and she was instantly hit with a wall of noise. Hot air, humid from effort and shouting, hit her next, followed by the scent of sweat—and a little bit of blood. She tugged her hood over her head as she walked in, embracing a bit of stifling heat in exchange for a concealed appearance. It was doubtful anybody here would recognize her, though.

Though the area was centrally lit to highlight the festivities, she could tell this wasn’t a boxing gym—a fighting gym, but not for any discipline she knew. What she thought were people standing on the wall turned out to be body-opponent bags lined up with military precision. All the equipment was set with evident respect and intentionality, not a thing out of place as far as she could tell.

And in the center of the room stood a cage.

She’d done some research into what he’d been talking about. She knew most MMA fights took place in a fenced-in open-air ring, but those rings never had a lid. The cage walls were pretty high, about twice the height of the average man. It seemed less like a fighting ring for humans and more like an inhumane, fucked-up snow globe full of violence.

Surrounding it was a crowd of around seventy-five people, bunched so close it almost seemed they were part of the platform. Three sets of bleachers held the rest of the observers, and a half-dozen more leaned on the rail of a balcony overlooking all at one end of the cavernous space.

Inside the cage, two men fought with wicked-looking spears—halberds, if she remembered correctly. The crack! of the shafts connecting jarred her from her drifting fugue, and Osha approached the crowd so she wouldn’t be seen as an outsider and garner unwanted attention.

Was this where the stranger trained and fought? It had to be—one of the fighters slashed the other across the chest in a small spray of blood. Instead of crying out or screaming, the injured competitor groaned in frustration over the sound of mixed cheering and grumbling. It was the single most confusing reaction to violence she’d ever seen.

She got closer despite her self-preservation screaming otherwise. The heady scent of spilled blood hung in the air like incense, and this brutal, lawless place suddenly felt more sacredly profane than anywhere else she’d ever been. This was no church or temple, but it was powerfully holy nonetheless. 

Osha found a place for herself in the stands.

As the previous fighters left the cage and melted away into the locker rooms, two more took their place. The announcer, a tall, pale man with spindly old-man arms, called their names like a pro wrestling emcee. Some matches had both fighters wielding weapons; others only had one weapon thrown in the middle to be fought over for advantage. Very few matches were unarmed, and when they were, it was indescribably brutal to see. The rules of engagement became clear in one of those bare-knuckle fights:

First blood wins the bout but doesn’t stop it—only the timer, submission, or unconsciousness did. Only one submission happened during the night, and when it had, the crowd was in an uproar, near-humiliating the poor soul who didn’t want his shoulder dislocated.

It seemed that for legal purposes, some holds were barred here.

She traded off between watching the fight and watching the audience, and she couldn’t tell who was more bloodthirsty.

After about an hour of fights, some unspoken signal rippled through the crowd. All at once, a hush fell over the entire space, reverent as a moment of benediction.

“For our final match,” the announcer called, “we have moved away from spears and swords to return to Pure! NHB! Fighting!” The crowd joined in his excitement, rattling the old aluminum seats beneath her. A quick glance at the balcony showed it empty. 

“—I’ve got eighty on White-Top tonight.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Smiley can’t win every time.”

Osha listened in on the conversation beside her, keeping her eyes on the announcer grandstanding at the center of the ring. He vamped while two expedient workers squeegeed off the blood from the floor mat.

“If you’re still betting on that, you’re welcome to lose your money. The thing place worth placing bets on is in the inner-ring particulars.”

“Like what?”

“—bring you eight of the finest fighters this gym has to offer! In one corner, the rookie in yellow—”

“—Who goes down first, who does Smiley take down first—”

“The Dizzykid!”

“—and how long it’ll take to put ‘em down.”

Mild applause started as a shirtless man bounced into the ring. He did a hopping lap before settling against one of the corners. Rookie confidence, Osha’s fighting mind said. The yellow balaclava he wore looked fucking nasty, half stained with old blood. The two gamblers beside her spoke in unison.

“He’s going down first.”

She probably shouldn’t have laughed. She’d done her best not to draw attention to herself for the last hour of fights, but at the unanimous and bored condemnation of the Dizzykid, she couldn’t help herself. Luckily, the gamblers didn’t seem to hear it; even if they did, they didn’t care.

The announcer spoke through the rest of the introductions, men and women fighting in one bout together. Most of the contenders were fresh to this competition, but many bore scars that must have come from previous fights like the ones she saw before.

They all had ridiculous names, too: Dizzykid, White-Top, and a handful of others she didn’t care remembering.

The final two were introduced as repeat champions from the month before. The penultimate fighter, who wore a purple hood, was called Daybreak. She looked well-sunken into her role in the ring, all quiet confidence and restrained power.

“Daybreak was one of our two-left-standing last month and will get to defend her name and title just like her final counterpart: your nine-month reigning champion here to make it ten, the undefeated, the terrifying, SMILEY!”

The eighth fighter walked into the cage, and it instantly felt like she’d gone into freefall. Distantly, as if underwater, she could hear the crowd going wild for him. The seven fighters in the ring were already honed to precision, each beautiful and strong, but this one was heart-stopping. She clung to one solid second of denial before accepting the truth of who those huge, beefy biceps belonged to—

That was her stranger in the mask.

He wore a black balaclava. Stitched in silver to make a horrifying toothy smile, Smiley’s moniker was straightforward.

God, she hoped Smiley wasn’t his real name.

“Welcome, gentlemen—welcome, ladies.” The announcer addressed them directly, shifting from entertainer to referee. Osha did not need to strain to hear him speak because the room had gone quiet as a crypt in respect and anticipation.

The rules were simple: 30 minutes on the clock, eliminations by knockout, submission, or heavy injury.

“When you hear this whistle—” he blew a whistle four times.  “You will grab the cage with both hands and stand still until we drag out the fallen. When you hear this bell—” Ding! “The fight resumes. If you make it to the final two, congrats. If you don’t, it’s not my problem. Now: Fighters!” He blew his whistle four times.

Sixteen hands found the fence.

The announcer left the ring.

The crowd’s excitement built.

And when the bell went off—

Chaos.

Four of the fresh fighters descended on the stranger, hunting the biggest game in the cage. Osha watched in awe as he leaped straight into the air and grabbed the top of the cage. Two of the fighters whiffed their punches beneath him, and he came down right on top of them.

There were probably other things happening in the cage, but she could only watch him.

Brash and eager, the Dizzykid went down first, knocked out by the kick to the face the stranger gave him. White-Top went down next. One of the gamblers beside her groaned. Osha grinned.

The stranger was a blur in the cage, all his punches and kicks coming too fast for her to track at times. When he paused, facing away from her, her breath stuck in her throat at the sight of the thick, purple-white scar tissue slicing across his back. It made more sense now: why he was so dedicated to injury recovery and proper form.

Wouldn’t you, if you had your back broken in four places?

Her chance at melancholic reverie passed as her stranger continued to put down his remaining opponents. The other two had gone after Daybreak—if she went down, they might make it to the cage next month.

The bubbling energy of the crowd was infectious, and Osha gave in to the temptation to get a little reckless, joining the cheers. “Let’s go, Smiley! Put ‘em the fuck down!”

The stranger froze mid-swing.

Fortunately for him, the ref blew his whistle four times right then, and the fight paused.

Unfortunately for her, the stranger stalked to the closest fence near Osha. He held onto it but pressed closer, forehead against the chain links. He’s looking for me. The other fighters faced inward, but not him, readying themselves for the fight ahead.

His eyes blazed with heat as he scanned the crowd. He was like a rabid animal, an overheated gun, a bloody, jagged edge digging deep wherever he wanted to cut. When he found her, she felt it in her bones. She raised a hand and gave a cheeky wave, smiling.

He tilted his head to the side before sticking his fingers through the fence, waving as much as possible.

The body haulers left the ring.

The cage door closed behind them.

The stranger was still not looking away—

Ding!

The stranger took less than fifteen seconds to put down the remaining rookies, leaving him and Daybreak standing. The crowd rippled with unease. Even Daybreak seemed baffled, staggering a few steps back from the sudden total violence.

The stranger returned to where he’d been standing fifteen seconds before, pressing his face fully against the fence like Osha was nothing but inches away from him.

The crowd around her was stunned. “How’d he do that so fast?”

“Smiley is just playing with his food whenever the fights go longer than five minutes, isn’t he?”

“I think his first fight lasted eight.”

“How long was this? I can’t see the—”

“Three minutes?! What the—”

“Five takedowns tonight? Daybreak looks like she just shit her trunks.”

“Nah, Smiley respects her too much to—”

“I don’t think Smiley even looked her way tonight.”

Osha could feel eyes on her, but she didn’t look at them. She was still staring at the stranger. As the last bodies were dragged out of the cage, he drifted backward to the center for the results. After they were announced, he said something to the emcee, who nodded but didn’t seem surprised.

Daybreak and Smiley disappeared when they left the cage, and the crowd dispersed to mingle or otherwise leave. To avoid the curious stares, Osha found a dark corner to stand in. She’d become damn near nose-blind to the scent of blood, but the sight of it being squeegeed off the mats was still slightly morbid.

Someone approached her hiding spot.

“Are you Osha?”

It was the announcer. This close, he loomed—even taller than the stranger. Only then did she remember the bear spray in her sleeve.

“Who’s asking?”

“You can call me Mr. Wise. Smiley asked for you.” She could see the glint in his eyes. He was dangerous but in a different way than her stranger. “Will you come with me?”

Alarm bells rang like hell in her head, but she chose to dance along to the tune. “Lead the way.”

Mr. Wise led her to a small door near where she’d come in; stairs led to the level above and the bar below. It smelled more like cigarettes than blood in here. “Just up there. The black door at the end.” Then he left her alone.

At the end of the long, twisting flight of stairs, Osha found... dressing rooms? The landing she stood on was connected to a hall of doors, as well as an open archway to access the balcony from before. The doors she passed matched the balaclavas of the cage fighters: yellow, white, blue… and black at the end of the hall.

The first six doors were open and empty, but the black and purple doors for Smiley and Daybreak were closed. The second she stood before the black door, it swung inward, and there he was.

He’d taken off the mask. His hair was damp from the shower he must have taken, and some of it was twisted back out of his face with little fasteners, just like the night she met him. The body heat radiating off of him was felt even standing out there in the hall. It’d been six days since she last saw him, and the bright smile he gave her had her insides scrambling around like a game of musical chairs. Six days, and he still looked just as good as he did in her memory.

“Osha.”

His eyes burned with a fire she knew well—the last time she felt it, she’d been given a great shiny trophy and belt. Her stranger’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she spotted the darkening bruise forming on his jaw. The cut on his cheek from several days ago had healed, and the bruise around it had faded from a red-purple to a pale yellow-green. One bruise out, one bruise in. That was the price of fighting.

“Tell me your name isn’t really Smiley,” Osha blurted out.

His smile widened. “I’m only Smiley sometimes. Come in; I was doing cooldown.”

He opened the door wider for her to come in. His dressing room was sparse but not gross like the others she’d seen in the hall. After all, this room had been solely his for the last ten months. She spotted a few things she recognized on the small table: the black hoodie, backpack, and glasses. Hanging off two small clips was the mask he’d worn to fight, dripping wet.

She approached it curiously. “It’s a little freaky, isn’t it?” she said over her shoulder.

“I didn’t choose it.”

She turned to look at him. He was in a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, barefoot. Red blotches bloomed across his body, lucky shots while he made felling blows. He was holding his hands over his head, stretching his biceps, triceps, and other muscle groups that looked too good for her to think straight. He stood very still for her while she looked at him, and a little zing of pride and power zipped down her spine.

“But… I have to win it again every time I wear it.”

She didn’t know what to say when she met his eyes again, her gaze snapping up from where it had drifted to the waistband of his sweats. He was smirking a little. Caught.

He moved them away from the potentially awkward silence by sitting on a yoga mat and resuming his cool-down stretches. She took a seat on the only chair in the room.

“How’d you hear about the fights?” he asked, falling into a deep stretch. His flexibility shouldn’t have set her heart to stutter, but she’d never seen a man go so deep in her life. The scars on his back stood out in sharp relief from this angle, and this close, she could see that they were a mix of traumas: surgery and injury twisted over themselves in a snarling knot with no end.

It’s what her ankle looked like.

“I, uh, didn’t,” she said after a few seconds of silence. He turned his head to peek an eye at her. Go on. “I didn’t even know there was a gym. I just wanted to go to the bar, but the lights were off.”

“And you just went in?”

“The door was open. And…” She pulled the bear spray out of her sleeve and showed it to him before putting it in her bag. “I wasn’t without protection.”

“Smart girl.”

She nearly choked on air but quickly recovered. When her bag was zipped, she crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “You don’t live in the city this long and feel safe without a can of bear spray,” she said.

“You could carry an actual weapon.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“I’d probably hurt myself before I hurt anybody else.”

He released the pose and adjusted his grip to stretch his feet and ankles. She recognized the different stretch combinations he was doing—she did them every night before bed. Her mind threatened to teeter into that can of worms, but he pulled her out of it.

“Don’t count yourself out, Osha. What’d I tell you? You’re a lion.” When he gave a breathy laugh and showed her his languid smile, she recognized more than the exercises—she saw more of herself in him than anticipated. His goofy grin wasn’t just part of a conjured persona. This was how he truly smiled when he hit that fighter’s high. It was how she smiled.

“I didn’t mean to distract you earlier.”

He laughed at the half-apology, pulling his feet in for a groin stretch. He tugged his shorts up his thighs for better flexibility, and he watched her reaction from the corner of his eye. His expression said, now, who’s distracted?

“You didn’t distract me,” he said, giving her a break and looking down. You surprised me, sure. I thought I got my bell rung and was hearing what I wanted.” He leaned into the stretch, groaning softly at the deeper burn. “I was glad to see you,” he said tightly. She wondered how much of it was from muscle strain and how much was from emotion.

Her heart galloped behind her ribs. Hearing him speak like that, make sounds like that—god, she was in trouble. She took a shuddering breath and held it to try and get her shit together, but it only half-worked.

“I was glad to see you, too.” She could only see a sliver of his face, but she saw him smile. “I liked, uh, seeing you fight. I’d been wondering about it for a while.”

“Oh, I’ve been on your mind?” he smirked at her, but his expression wasn’t remotely malicious.

“Can you blame me?”

The stranger seemed pleased with her answer, a shared refrain from several conversations together. He released the stretch and rolled seamlessly onto his back, holding one knee to his chest. He lolled his head to the side to look at her, self-satisfied. “Why did you come to the bar tonight, Osha?”

He was going to make her say it. Bastard.

“Well, Yord hasn’t broken the espresso machine, and you said you weren’t coming around anyway. You haven’t been at the apartment gym, and I couldn’t find anything about you on the internet to track you down. You’re very hard to get ahold of, you know.”

“I know.”

“So the last place I knew you might be… was here. Well, downstairs.”

He nodded, idly tracing his thumb over his kneecap. It was distracting. “You’ve been looking for me, then?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Damnit, hadn’t she said enough for him? He blinked at her, lazy as a cat but twice as sharp.

Fuck it.

“I wanted to see you.”

He made a pleased noise, switching to hold his other leg. He settled into the stretch, breathing slowly like he was savoring those five words he’d dragged past her lips. “Have you thought about my offer?”

She supposed she’d gotten what she wanted. If she was pursuing him this hard, she had her answer. Why did she go looking for him? She wanted to see him. Why did she want to see him? Because she wanted to train—or perhaps another reason she wasn’t being honest with herself about.

He released his leg and sat up fluidly, kneeling before her. He rested both hands on his thighs and tilted his head to the side, considering her openly. Messy-haired, skin still bright and flushed from the fight, kneeling on the floor, he looked penitent, beseeching.

“What do you want, Osha?”

“In order?”

“If you wish.” His lips twitched, suppressing a smile.

She held up three fingers, ticking them off one by one. “In order: I want your number, I want a drink, and I want you to train me.”

CHAPTER 7

[mysticstarlightduck]

Incorrect Quote Tag!

I wanted to do this tag again so here we go! Going with some characters from Supernova Initiative and Scrapyard Boys for this one <3

I had a lot of fun with this lol, enjoy! (:

The Generator

SCRAPYARD BOYS

Quince: What do you want for breakfast? Josh: I WISH TO DEVOUR THE UNBORN. Quince: (Visible Concern) Erin: (Done with Life) ... Erin: He wants eggs.

Rhys: Quince! Help! I’m bleeding… Quince: Oh god… what’s your blood type?! Rhys: B positive… Quince: (holding back laughter) I’m trying to but you’re bleeding-

Adrien: Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your mother. Max: Eh, we aren't really that close. Adrien: Oh, good then. 'Cause she's a bitch.

Any authority figure: Could you be anymore annoying? Valen: Yes.

*Adrien and Rhys are texting* Adrien: Who are you? I think Gwyn changed the names in my phone. Rhys: What did they change my name to? Adrien: Chosen One. Rhys: Don’t change it back. Adrien: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Rhys: I’m the chosen one. Adrien:... YOU SON OF A BITCH! IT WAS YOU?!!! Rhys: Smugly leaves that message On Read

Damon: You’re insane! Josh: I know I am, what’s your point?

Josh: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?Erin: ... Erin: Why are you eating dirt? Josh: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

Kay, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like.

Gwyn: What’s it like being tall? Rhys: Is it nice? Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Adrien: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Thomas: Damon, I swear I didn’t know Emily was coming over. I always ominously clean my weapons on the coffee table like that. It had nothing to do with that!

Luke: You read my diary? Valen: Look, at first I didn't know it was your diary. I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

Josh: I'm not funny, I'm just really mean and people think I'm joking.

Gwyn: Why should I make my bed, when I'm just gonna unmake it to sleep in it anyways? Adrien: Why should I feed you if your just gonna die anyways? Gwyn: Gwyn: I'll go make my bed-

Valen: My bad, It’s a knee jerk response. Damon, holding Thomas's unconscious body: WHOSE KNEE JERK RESPONSE IS TO START THROWING BRICKS AT SOMEONE???

Max: What state do you live in? Quince: I live in a state of constant anxiety.

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

Artemis: Everyone thinks you suck. Deimos: I think you have the wrong number… Artemis: Kye? Deimos: Nope. I'm Deimos Artemis: Well, you probably suck too…

Meridian, carrying a box: What would you say if- if I, hypothetically, came home with 7 kittens one day? Jack: … Jack: What’s in the box? Meridian: What woul- Jack: (sighs) Meridian, what’s in the box? Meridian: I think you know.

Cassie (in Act 1-2): Hey, are you alright with swearing? Asking for a friend. Deimos: ...Yeah? Cassie: Bitch. Jack, stuck in the middle of this situation:... I hate my life

Vesper: Murder literally doesn’t hurt anyone! Jack: What are you talking about? Of course— Kye, holding out a hand to shut Jack up: No, no, wait. She has a point—

Noctus: Meridian is late again. Cassie: How did this happen? I called them at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11. Aleks: I printed up a fake schedule for them saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon. Vesper: I set their clock to say PM when it’s really AM. Jack: Oh boy. We may have overdone it. *Meridianbursts through the door, panicking* Meridian: WHAT TIME IS IT?

Jack: (hesitant) Have I ever told you that you cook well? Cassie: Awww, no, you haven't! Jack: (nearly in exasperated tears) So why do you keep cooking?

*Artemis and Kye are fighting* Gabi, taking aspirin: I have a headache! Can you guys just be cool?! *Artemis and Kye keep fighting, now while wearing sunglasses and riding skateboards*

Elysia: What’s your biggest fear? Jack: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Elysia, under her breath (confused, never heard that word in her life): You don’t want spiders to get married?

Lyorna, singing, unaware there's anyone nearby: I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need— Kye: An actual family. Vesper: A better love life. Jack: Mental stability. Meridian: *clueless* Bagels?

Aleks: I may be stupid. The Squad: ... Aleks: Oh, did you think I was going to finish that sentence?

Jack: Why were you up yesterday until 3am? Cassie: How did you know I was up until 3am? Deimos (walking in with an absolutely exhausted face and two cups of coffee): Because we all could hear you clapping to that sitcom intro every 25 minutes.

Vesper: Do you want to be the Sun in my life? Deimos: Yes. Vesper: Good, then stay 92,935,700 miles away from me :)

Aleks: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Noctus? Noctus: No. Aleks: I think I speak for Noctus when I say it sounds really super.

Jack: Yesterday, I overheard Meridian saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Cassie replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Kye: Two truths and a lie, I’ll start! Kye: I’ve killed people, I will kill again, and I hear screams when I'm alone or sleeping. Meridian, visibly nervous: I don’t- I don’t know if I like this game.

Jack: *points at Tarah* A human turtleneck, *points at Kye* a narcissistic monster, *points at Aleks* and literally the dumbest person I’ve ever met. Aleks: And who am I? Describe me now.

*The gang's thoughts on stabbing* Meridian (mortified): Would never stab anyone. Deimos: Would stab someone in retaliation. Cassie: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first. Kye: Would stab without warning. Vesper: Would stab as a warning.

Jack: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Lyorna: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Jack: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to charm me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Lyorna: Is it working?

Kye: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

Gabi: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized. Elysia: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to her knees and sob while apologizing profusely* Gabi: That one. I want that one.

Tagging (gently): @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab, @winterandwords, @eccaiia,

@the-letterbox-archives, @illarian-rambling@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart,

@little-peril-stories, @thecomfywriter

@ray-writes-n-shit @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess,

@forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix @i-can-even-burn-salad

@cauliflowermaterial @thepeculiarbird,

@clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes,

@starlit-hopes-and-dreams @differentnighttale

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[safetyobstacles]

starting o segredo na floresta now, im either gonna finish this in a week or its gonna take months good luck me

update - i love joui

joui, its a little cloudy out, roll for sanity. joe, you stubbed your toe, roll sanity. joui did you just frown???????? roll a sanity test with disadvantage. that was cool joui, you gain 1 sanity. just kidding somewhere in the netherlands a child tripped and scraped their knee, you lose 10 sanity.

i think im going to put my updates under the cut instead of spamming posts B) beware of spoil

UPDATE

if cellbit takes liz or thiago from me ill never forgive him

this bar has to be its own paranormal entity, thiago would have died if the gun had a bullet in it and cristopher nearly got knifed to death in their first fight loll

EP 2

npc thiago about to be the most useless mf ever i swear if he dies to a stray ant or something ill cry just put him in a box for safe keeping

what would i do without the mental image of joui dropkicking every monster he sees

liz why are you finger painting with the ooze monsters remains and why did it give you 1 hp ?????? NEVERMIND

EP 3

RACCOON bro has 8 health but he sure is happy

faz um teste de sanidade

when i said thiago was gonna die to an ant i didnt actually mean kill him with giant spiders

cristopher no please dont climb a tree these are spiders they can climb nah bro cristopher is dead af im gonna miss him. bro cellbit just kill him already bros dead 2 hp

damn

ep 4

at this rate luba doesnt even need to roll sanity we all know hes gonna fail anyways joui's having the worst two days of his life

jesus christ i just woke up i cant handle this shit cesar's punching a hole in my itty bitty heart bones

please stop talking about leticio's cacetinho

EP 5 how long is too long for a tumblr post btw

the starting soon screen replaced cris with arthur notlikethis

cellbit is far too happy about them going to this house i hate it i hate it

i would like for them to leave a casa now :))) they got gregório time to go :) DAMN JOUI JUST GOT STEAMROLLED BY THAT ZOMBIE ROLLED A 99 VS CELLS 1 jesus christ thiago LOL NO WAY GREGÓRIO IS DEAD AF bro was just taking a nap in the car and this is what he gets

that was horribly stressful its 3 am how am i supposed to sleep after that

to be fair, if i was rodolfo and liz didnt use the tazer, i would have just dragged gregório in front of arthur and killed him in right in front of his face soo...

ROLLED 100 LOOOOOOOOOOOOL a caverna

COOL GUY ALERT HOPE HE DOESNT KILL BRULIO HAHAhahaaa

EP 6 I HAVE GREAT ANXIETY THIS MESTRE GUY IS ABOUT TO KILL HALF THE SQUAD

luba i know youve been rolling absolute dog shit the last 5 episodes but this one really counts buddy brulio :(

most stressful hour of youtube ive ever sat through i cant believe they all lived

A PORTA FORTE

EP 7 im so glad they're going back to the house im so happy ive never wanted anything else this is great nothing could go wrong in this house nothing

7 episodes in and ive just now realised that he keeps talking about circles and spirals and those have significance with a certain element and now i want them to leave carpazinha go back home forget this ever happened

undressing with the homies in the haunted basement next to a dead old man

not thiago canonically talking to a bookshelf after complaining about joui's whispering to his shotgun

THIS GRAVE IS SO COMPLICATEDDDD I BET ITS FUCKING EMPTY THEYRE ARGUING ABOUT HOW TO "knock out" AN OLD LADY AND ITS PROBABLY JUST WORMS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE GRAVEEE

this whole graveyard scene has me in tears thiago staring at nothing while they try to get him to unmute, old guy on the phone, joui picking up the old lady i just laughed so hard i feel ill

the one time joui doesnt fail a roll he loses 6 SANITY?? 8 SANITY?????????????? SENHORA VOCE TA BEM????? YOU JUST CHOKED HER OUT JOUI WAIT SHES GONNA DIE??????????? SHES GOING TO DIE???????????? THE GASOLINE IN THE MOUTH??

grounded from the shotgun for 1 week

EP 8

Thiago's pants are still fucked up from last episode btw

about to have a tpk over alchohol poisoning

if cesar survives this campaign hes gonna put as many points possible into forgery

a caverna im goign fuckign crazy the god of tdeath pr spomething is in this cave theyre gonna walk inside trip on a pebble and get eaten by hundreds of tiny cave beetles

Victor is absolutely about to get his face eated by a spider and/or be swallowed by the cave

ok but santo berço looks kinda cool like i would live there

EP 9 he just (re?)released osnf merch but i refuse to be spoiled by absolutely anything ive done so well i will not be tainted by cesar's really cool green on black long sleeve

wait i love the gatekeeper its a shame this town is probably a hallucination and theyre all actually slowly dying in the middle of the forest GIANT COWS I LOVE THE GIANT COWS WITH REGULAR SIZED HEADS

????????????????????????????????FELPS??????????????????????

buttery butter

thiago this is why you should have quit smoking

?????FELPS?????????

EP 10 so if thiago hadnt used the lighter would felps still be alive, probably just would have died later B)

bro joui has got to buy new dice this is crazy

this is gonna be the average 2 star motel experience BRO JUST DABBED ON CESAR liz is about to get bodied by the hallway ghosts this is just like a regular motel HUH UHHHHHHH

no joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy joui kill the hotel guy

mom i want to go home i dont want to stay in santo berço anymore jesus christ

EP 11 how am i supposed to just start the next episode after that i think the mental image of brulio beating arthurs skull in is burned into my brain space

sandwich sandwich

i love the giant cows so much i want one GIANT CHICKEN LAY GIANT EGG I LOVE THE GIANT CHICKEN intimidating the human sized pig

EP 12 still thinking about how cellbit thought new zealand was so close to europe, he was so sure of it that he was making me unsure of where i knew new zealand was

both times thiago was played by cellbit some horrific shit happened so with arthur being an npc this episode im prepared for the worst also this starting soon screen is fucking wicked

are you telling me joui's max sanity is now 12 bros been losing it for so long hes stuck like this joui is the "damn, you live like this?" meme

CELLBO ROLEPLAYED TOO HARD HIS HEADSET JOINED AS AN ENEMY AND BEAT HIS SETUP

"that sounds like a book title" bro let the intrusive thought win

baby nidere

no way the cow has been suffering this whole time ill cry

theyre about to rp their way into an angry medieval mob when they get found with the body of the dead gatekeeper B) does santo berço have dungeons, bc if they do thats where theyll be sleeping tonight nvm the gatekeeper has demons inside him sorry joui HUh no way they killed the gatekeeper dude wtf

EP 13 chat's a bit excited to go in the cave guys if anyone reads this what am i supposed to do once i finish this season. what do you mean i just have to go onto desconjuração. what do you mean i have to leave this story behind. please let me keep all the characters in this one.

THE CAVE MAP IS COOOOOOL THE LIGHT MOVES WITH THE MINER everyone struggling to flip their characters 5 mins into the cave made me laugh so hard i had to pause to breathe

I LOVE MOLES DUDE THEYRE SO COOL ok but i dont love this many moles BRO I LOVE MOTHS TOO THIS IS AWESOME wait no i hate bats THIS MOTH IS SUFFERINGGGGG

THE SUCC hes about to kill them all with the Succ out of spite thiago never mock one of cellbit's monsters again ARTHUR ZIUM

door door door door door door door door door door the gatekeeper is alive???

ih arthur nah dude let go of cesar :(((((((((((( gotta hand it to arthur hes survived two of these situations now get it, hand it to him, CAUSE HE LOST HIS FUCKING ARM WTF HIS ARM DETATCH LIKE A LEGO sorry i vote we still kill the gatekeeper just in case just to be safe

EP 14 did cellbit have a past traumatic experience with a vacuum is that why he created the Succ

agatha?????? bro agatha's life sucked big pp

every time cellbit says hes excited for something i grow more afraid

if they kill and eat the gatekeeper would he also taste delicious just wondering

i think i might know the reason why 12 sanity joui has a funky grey form but 55 sanity thiago doesnt, but maybe im crazy nevermind thiago had the funky grey within him this whole time wait does that mean hes gonna die if santo berço dies DAMN

joui just really wants to see thiago naked also hes just blatantly stealing arthur's knife he really is losing all his sanity that was possibly the most unconvincing "nada" ive ever heard

EP 15 before i start a new episode i always go to the vod on twitch and watch the memes first so i can go "hehe" for five minutes, and then go "oh no" for the next 4 hours

hypothetically, if joui managed to get the symbol on him before anyone noticed would he have just lost all 12 of his sanity and gone mad cuz that would have been crazy :,)

this is it cellbit is finally going to kill npc thiago joui is so very happy about his shotgun i thought maybe he was getting better but hes whispering to it again

alright whats up with cellbit and the outwards opening doors because i swear i have never seen a door that opens out instead of in, are all the doors like that in his home these doors are made to have creatures attack from inside ih i just checked like 3 times to make sure i was on the right episode lmaoooo

"pobre martha" DAAAAAAMN MARIANA ICE COLD

one buff woman vs all 3 equipe kelvin who will win (1 woman) crazy that equipe kelvin managed to accomplish what took our group 9 episodes to get to lool they even got the leticio cacetinho dlc, but they did skip the spider boss fight and the entire house level

THE BLACKSMITH IS MIGUEL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

EP 16 the joui, liz, and arthur cosplay look like theyre going to a nice dinner meanwhile thiago, kenan, and cesar just look homeless

idk if thiago's making it out of this one :,) maybe we just take thiago's weapons its not like he can do much to help anyways kenan wants to skin him listen brother i dont think thats gonna work im at the 52 min mark and cellbit is acting sus af the blacksmith is about to appear and stomp them all or something

joui would roll a 99 and nearly knife cesar and liz is trying so hard not to metagame her way to the explosive backpack loving how trigger happy joui is right now go on guys give him more explosives what the worst that could happen

is kenan also a wellspring do they have to kill him cuz thats gonna be kind of awkward and on that note since thiago has the symbol on him does that make him a wellspring too ill cry i will cry

NOT JOUI APOLOGIZING FOR LYING ABOUT HIS SAMURAI ANCESTRY

damn that scene between joui, liz, and thiago was the best in the entire season

i would like to take this moment before they all get swallowed alive by some horrible sludge tentacle monster to proclaim my absolute hatred of Santo Berço. I know i said at the end of episode 8 that i thought it looked cool but im over it ive moved past that point in my life i hate Santo Berço

BIG GOOEY MEATBALL

"the people are happy here!" says the blacksmith as he currently has 5 people forcefully locked up for decades that have gone mad with probably no way of ever regaining their sanity i just realised miguel and the old blacksmith fucked and had a kid

final boss aboutta come crawling out of the meatball please stop trying to skin thiago the symbol isnt gonna come off

THAT WAS SICK AF THEYRE ALL DEAD AS HELL

???????????????????? "kenan you have one last sane move before i take your character and throw him off a cliff"

:(

post i made after i finished osnf (made like 3 days later because i was so so so so so so so so so so sad)

https://www.tumblr.com/safetyobstacles/739056899257942016/i-finished-osnf-after-almost-2-months-and-you-know?source=share

[thebirdandhersong]

Hello and why are you writing MORE essays is it not? Summer??? What is the schedule like at your uni??? What's happening??? HELLO??????

GIRL I KNOW BY ALL RIGHTS I SHOULDN'T BE HERE AT HALF PAST TWELVE CHURNING OUT ANOTHER ESSAY BUT HERE I AM

Uni in Canada (I'm taking this opportunity to procrastinate for a few minutes. lol) is pretty flexible in terms of time and scheduling. My university has a 120 credit requirement (most classes are worth 3 credits; labs are 1-2). Most students here take 5-6 classes each winter term (there are 2) to graduate in four years, or split it differently: do 4-5 classes during the winter terms and then 1-3 during the summer terms (there are also 2). One of my crazy classmates from first year managed to finish university in THREE years (I know this is normal in the UK but it really, really is not here) and she's an outlier.

I, however, am on a FIVE year track due to changes of plan during lockdown (a LOT of students are now taking 5 years to graduate because lockdown posed a lot of challenges/they decided that they didn't want to rush through their classes/both). This is because 1) I'm a slow learner and simply cannot keep up with 4-6 classes per semester (I tried. I really did. It nearly killed me), 2) I wanted to actually absorb what I was learning instead of speeding through and forgetting everything (what happened in high school) (I want to know my stuff!), and 3) there were other complications. So I have to take classes during the summer to make up for lost time (which wasn't really lost, but whatever) now if I want to graduate next year, which I do!

Which is why I am sitting here at 12:39am writing a silly essay on Russian culture, Dostoevsky, and loving thy neighbour and not doing fun things like sleep!

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

Things Downton abbey characters would buy at Holland and Barrett (long post ahead):

Lord Grantham: milk thistle tablets, peppermint oil, and chocolate covered dates

Lady Grantham: the most expensive collagen brand, evening primrose oil, detox tea, and raspberry leaf tea

Mary: Fiji water and a single tube of lip balm

Edith: soya milk and green boost smoothie powder

Sybil: candy kittens in one of each flavour

Matthew: zinc and potassium tablets

Tom Branson: ginger oat biscuits and pistachios

Rose: raspberry lemonade kombucha, wild strawberry candy kittens, hemp moisturiser, 3 different lip balms, 10 different essential oils, faith in nature conditioner

Isobel: woman’s 50+ super multivits and minerals high strength

Violet: dr organic dragons blood anti-aging moisturiser with collagen

Dr Clarkson: Manuka honey and earl-grey tea

Mr Carson: black tea, chocolate hazelnuts, and crystallised ginger

Mrs Hughes: chamomile tea and shop-brand aloe Vera gel

Mrs Patmore: dried mango pieces, dried pineapple rings, coconut oil, porridge oats, sultanas, nuts and seeds for baking

Thomas: single pack of sugar-free peppermint gum and cbd oil

Miss O’Brien: two plain liquorice bars, aloe Vera soap bar, and ginger tea

Anna: Pukka three-mint tea, and women’s general multivitamins

Mr Bates: plain almonds, valerian tablets, vitamin c + zinc, and chocolate covered raisins for Anna

Daisy: doisy & dam chocolate drops and vegan mini marshmallows

Alfred: olive oil, rice, tomato sauce, banana chips, and lots of seeds

Jimmy: an individual salted caramel protein bar

Andrew: creatine powder

Mr Molesley: turmeric gummies, vitamin c gummies, and biotin gummies

Miss Baxter: crispy seaweed thins, roasted salted cashews, and coconut water

Ethel: she cannot afford anything sadly

Gwen: iron tablets and peppermint tea

Lord Gillingham: kids multivits with omega 3 and a plain flapjack

Lord Merton: mens 50+ multivitamins, milk chocolate Brazil nuts, and prune juice

Sir Richard Carlisle: matcha green tea, hard boiled ginger sweets, plain liquorice minis

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[exchangestudentmicha]

Demon Headcannons for the Brothers

AKA I can’t name shit and I am a monster fucker

Also to the person who commented that my last headcannons post was for monster fuckers, this entire blog is for monster fuckers lol

Lucifer

When he’s in his demon form you may notice him puff up and shake his wings a bit, he says its to stretch his wings, but if you pay attention he doesn’t seem to do it around anyone else

He has some big ass talons that he can bring out at will, and holy shit are they SHARP. Like, you know how when a knife is sharp enough it can cut through things like cardboard with little to no effort? Yeah, they’re that sharp

His wings are exceptionally soft and have a beautiful sheen to them, he takes good care of them after all. (That is when his wings aren’t molting)

Yes, he molts. And he hates it. His wings look scruffy and they get pretty itchy, not to mention his feathers get EVERYWHERE. Like they will pop up all around the House of Lamentation for about 3 months after he’s done molting

Mammon

He doesn’t just steal actual valuables, he steals any shiny things that he likes. You’ve actually found a box full of random shiny objects in his room before. Some of them are from his crow familiars, some are just from him finding/stealing them

You’ve seen him on multiple occasions, hopping in the hallways like a crow. It usually only happens when he’s excited though

His wings are very soft, not as soft as Lucifer’s or Asmo’s, but still very soft. And he loves to wrap you in them, even if he doesn’t admit it. He will take any chance that he can find to do it.

Think I’m joking? Spend the night in his room once. If you wake up before him you’ll find that his wing is draped over you like a blanket. And if he isn’t in one of his tsundere moods, you may find him wrapping you up in his wings when he hugs you. (This boi loves you so damn much just hug him)

Levi

He does the snake tongue thing when in his demon form, and yes, he adamantly denies that he does, but you’ve seen him do it multiple times

Speaking of snake stuff though, yes, he can unhinge his jaw. He did it once to eat a taco in the middle of a raid that he was playing through with some of his friends. You still can’t decide if it was horrifying or awesome (or for my monster fuckers like me out there, arousing)

He has venom that he can control whether to inject it or not, its a mix between a neurotoxin and a hemotoxin. So when you’re injected with it your blood starts clotting as you suffocate to death from your muscles not working

Levi does shed his skin every now and then, and he HATES it since he’s usually confined to his tank for a couple days to help him shed and his skin gets all tight and itchy before it happens

Satan

Has hissed at Lucifer at least once in front of you

He doesn’t really show off many horse traits (or more unicorn traits) for his symbolic animal being a unicorn, instead he just acts like a cat

Like, fully a cat.

The only person that he constantly likes affection from is you, with his brothers, depends on the hour, just like a cat. Also, you could’ve sword you’ve seen him cleaning himself with his tongue before, he denies it whenever you ask however

Also, he can breathe green fire. He doesn’t do it much however. It only really happens when he’s exceptionally angry. Like Lucifer did something to piss him off, Mammon stole a magic tome of his that’s from like 1000 year ago and is now irreplaceable, and Levi is playing his video games so he can’t download Ebooks all in the same day angry. Its pretty hard to get him that angry, but when he does you’ll see green fire come from his nose (and see him destroy the House of Lamentation) Its one of the few times that not even Lucifer will confront him

Asmo

He glows under UV light in his demon form, just like scorpions. Y’all found out when you found a video of a person finding scorpions with a blacklight and tried it on Asmo. He now shows it off at any party he goes to

He does actually have a scorpion tail, he just doesn’t bring it out much though.

He does have venom he can use with his scorpion tail, its a mix between a neurotoxin that paralyzes you and an extremely powerful aphrodisiac

In fact, his venom is used in a popular aphrodisiac sold on Akuzon, just with the neurotoxin removed

His charm is ridiculously strong, like, he can probably get nearly anyone to do whatever he wanted, but funnily enough he doesn’t usually use it that much for nefarious means. In fact, usually the worst that he does with it is help his brothers with pranks. He doesn’t see a point in using it to get the people he wants, his looks and natural charisma usually work just as well for that stuff.

Beel

Dude has tried eating at least one of everything in the Devildom, and I don’t just mean food. Remember the pillar incident? Or the Little Ds in Levi’s game? Yeah those are nowhere near the oddest things he’s shoved into his mouth. There’s a reason why Asmo doesn’t buy fruit scented products after all

He does actually have a tail with a stinger on it, its just usually retracted so you don’t see it since its hidden under his jacket

Just like his buggy and snek brothers he has venom as well. It’s technically not as bad as his brother’s venom since it won’t directly kill you, but since it causes pure, agonizing pain, its still not fun at all. But thankfully, just like Levi, he can decide whether to inject it or not. Which is good since his stinger also doubles as an ovipositor

His tongue is really long, like it can extend up to a foot long and is actually a bit rough, do what you please with this information, I know I will ;)

Belphie

His eyes glow in the dark. And you didn’t know until you woke up in the middle of the night and saw a pair of glowing magenta eyes staring at you

He can actually float through using his magic, in fact, he sometimes does it in his sleep, and yes that means you’ve walked into his room and seen him sleeping on the ceiling. He just usually doesn’t float because he’s too lazy

Beel’s and Belphie’s link is honestly kinda crazy. Usually its pretty tame, but sometimes it can border on freaky. They can usually have a rough guess on what the other is feeling, they can feel if something is wrong with the other, and you swear, they always seem to sneeze at the same time.

Just like his brother (and just like a cow tbh) his tongue is also kinda rough, but nowhere near as long as Beel’s

[s4turns-r1ngs]

DSMP - "Get in loser, we're going shopping."

Summary: Was it a good idea to be up at three in the morning on a school night? No, but here you are doing it anyways, dragging your friends along with you. (As you should.)

Pronouns: they/them

Warnings: Swearing

-> [a/n] - what the fuck is up gamers i'm back at it again with the typing and shit. lowercase is intended, as i am on my computer and i'm too lazy to capitalize shit. also sorry if stuff is spelled wrong lmao i'm tired school is stressful. smh. n e ways back to ignoring my french (why did i take french) homework. also, reader lives in america, bc i dunno anything about how anything is set up in the uk :pensive: also what??? two posts??? in less than 24 hours??? saturn on their content arc?????

-> p!cc!benchtrio + reader (more ranboo + reader than any of the others, but they're still there)

>—————————×××—————————<

you sigh, glancing at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 2:54 am. jeez you really should not be awake right now, especially since it's a school night. you were going to be so tired in school tomorrow.

you glace at the clock again. 2:55 am.

groaning, you sit up. there was absolutely no way you were going to fall asleep now and still be able to make it through your classes without falling asleep, but oh, how one could dream.

you know what? fuck it. if you can't fall asleep at a decent time, you're about to make it everyone else's problem.

you stand up, quickly changing into something slightly more presentable, but still comfortable. grabbing your phone, you open up discord.

---

chaos CHAOS

[user/n]: gm losers :]

ranboo: why are you awake

[user/n]: why are YOU awake then huh??

ranboo: i mean fair but

ranboo: still

tommy: what the fuck

[user/n]: tommy

tommy: [y/n]

tubbo: tubbo

ranboo: ranboo

tubbo: anwyays [y/n] why are you awake?

[user/n]: lmao man idk i coulddn't sleep lol,

ranboo: then get sleep??

[user/n]: no <3

tommy: idk big man you should probably get some sleep

tommy: didn't you say you had class tomorrow?

[user/n]: oh yea i do

[user/n]: but i've come to the conclusion that i Will Not be sleeping any time soon

tubbo: same tbh bossman

ranboo: at least get sleep soon??

[user/n]: mmm no

[user/n]: n e ways boo open your door

ranboo: wh

ranboo: why

[user/n]: :)

ranboo: LEAVE

tommy: what

tubbo: lmao L

ranboo: GO AWAY

[user/n]: :)

---

you knock on his front door again. "open up, bitchboo!"

"will you quiet down! the neighbors are sleeping!"

"fuck the neighbors! we're going to walmart!" you say, taking a step back.

"why?? it's three in the morning???" he says, opening the door.

"idk man. vlog content i guess." you respond, shrugging your shoulders.

"you're going to record a vlog in a walmart at three am?" ranboo questions, leaning against the doorway. it truly is a wonder that the neighbors are still asleep, especially with how loud you're talking.

"with you of course. why else would i be here?"

"because i am one of your closest and loving (/p) friends?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"ew. no. that's cringe. (/j)" you turn back towards your car. "anyways, loser, get in. it's time to go shopping."

ranboo paused for a moment, looking between you and your car. with a sigh, he responds: "i don't really have a choice here, do i?"

"nope <3"

"okay. hold on i'll be right back." he walks back inside.

you shout: "you better be! i'll be in the car."

---

"hey gamers," you tell your camera while walking into the store. "back at it again with vlog content. but this time it's at walmart and it's like...three-thirty in the morning i think."

"i have no clue why they're up, by the way." ranboo mentions from behind the camera. "they just showed up at my house and dragged me here."

"yup!"

"that's kidnapping, [user/n]."

"yup!" you repeat, with a smile covered by your mask. turning to look at him instead of the camera, you ask: "now, what should we get?"

"you're looking at me like i know."

"you should, shouldn't you? why did you come to the store then?"

"because you-"

"exactly!" you shout. you see some middle-aged man look at you from further down on of the aisles. "now go look for stuff."

with that, you run off towards the candy aisle.

ranboo sighs. "let's see how long it takes them to realize they left their camera."

not even fifteen seconds you run back and take the camera. "this is mine!"

"i was wondering how long it would take you." he semi-shouts on his way past you to what you think is the frozen food section.

"whatever, asshole! go find your...i have no clue what you buy at the store, but go look for it!"

you see him give you a thumbs up before turning a corner.

"cool now that he's gone, time to commit a crime-"

your phone buzzes.

boo: whatever you're going to do, don't. :)

"i guess not, then. doesn't mean i can't get a shitload of candy, though, so-"

---

you burst through your door, arms full of bags, ranboo not far behind you. it's nearly four-forty-five in the morning, and your first class is at nine. oh well. there's no way this could go wrong.

ranboo stands awkwardly at the entrance to your kitchen.

"just set them down on the counter, it'll be fine."

"cool, i guess?" he responds, doing as told. "what do we do now?"

you pause. what even is there to do? you could watch a movie or something. honestly, you could probably email your teachers and tell them that you can't make it (you make a mental note to do that later).

"i dunno. we could brag about it to tommy and tubbo? i'm too sleep-deprived to think straight right now."

"alright, i'm fine with that."

and with that, you and ranboo call the other two and laugh at whatever shenanigans ensue.

[cow-smells]

You’re Mine [Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Reader]

Requests: 1. there’s a new girl on miyagi-do, she’s classmates with sam, hawk, miguel, tory, robby, demetri, etc... for some reason, she and hawk didn’t like each other (he can be on cobra kai or eagle fangs, that’s your choice), and one day they make a bet, which this girl wins. hawk has to be her slave for a whole week. BONUS IDEA: a stolen kiss during a fight. maybe admitting feelings for each other? i’d love that! ( @berriewrites​ ) 2. love the hawk smut but i’d also love some fluffy hawk about him secretly liking the reader who’s in miyagido but he tries to act all tough and hide it (anon) 3. AHHH CAN WE GET SOME HAWK FLUFF!? I love the idea where you swear that you don’t like him and you guys make eye contact from a distance when he’s standing with his friend group and you’re standing with yours and you get flustered and he can tell and he smirks and just ahh (anon)

A/N: this took so longggg this came out longer than expected (and honestly i could go on, but i wanted to get this out already) + real life has come hitting all at once and its been overwhelming lol. thanks for being patient and sticking around <3 i enjoyed writing some fluff (amidst a flurry of smut reuests loool :)

Words: 2981

Warnings: none

Read this on AO3

Summary: You don't like Hawk. He's a bad person, that much you know for sure. You're ready to make his life miserable when he loses a bet with you, but then you actually have to spend time with him...

   You didn't like this.

Forgiveness seemed to be a virtue that evaded you. Eagle-fang and Miagi-Do were uniting and everyone seemed to be all for the union – except for you.

Some things were simply unforgivable. For you, Hawk breaking Demetri's arm was one of them.

You and Demetri became nearly inseparable friends when you both joined Miagi-Do. He had told you all about his former friend Eli and how he'd abandoned him in the favor of bullying him in any way he could come up with; that bullying taking a turn to the extreme when Hawk took to breaking bones.

    Demetri had since forgiven him, but you hadn't.

Demetri had a softer heart than he let on, and he missed Eli terribly, so when the latter suggested they work together he gladly accepted.

But you were more objective about the situation, as you weren't a part of it, and forgiving such cruelty was beyond you.

    The one good thing about the dojos coming together was the intense dedication that grew on everyone. Now that you had a common enemy, many participants would hang around in Miyagi-Do's dojo long after training sessions, training until you could hardly move your limbs.

     The sun had ago long fallen when you and the remaining students took places around a mat, ready for the sparring session to begin.

With Daniel and Sensei Lawrence gone, you had taken to writing down names and pulling them out of a bowl to decide on sparring partners.

    All the negative emotions you felt channeled in to great excitement when Miguel called your name – followed by Hawk's.

You could have sworn you saw a look of something you couldn't read – concern, perhaps, or fear? Before he seemed to share your excitement as he stepped on to the mat with a grin that was almost predatory.

    Two could play at that game.

    “You're as good as dead,” you said, your voice dripping venom. Hawk's smirk just grew.

    “Is that so, princess? I'd like to see you score as much as a point.”

A light bulb lit in your mind.

    “Yeah?” you taunted. “What if I get three?”

Hawk laughed. “You got a lot of confidence, don't you? I'll tell you what. If you can score three points on me and win, I'll...” He bit his lip as he thought. “I'll let you boss me around for a week. Whatever you want.”

The blood rushed through your veins, ready more than ever to fight. You were grateful for the lack of your sensei, knowing this nonsense wouldn't stand if he were here.

    “Deal.”

    “Are you guys done?” Miguel huffed, standing between you two, ready to referee. “Good. Bow.”

    You bowed without intent and got straight to attacking. Hawk didn't expect it; he came from the dojo that prides itself on strike first and yours cared mainly about defense. You earned your first point within seconds.

    That only served to throw Hawk off his game further. He dived in right away for the attack and was caught unprepared when you fell, sweeping his leg.

    You earned your second point.

By that point, Hawk might as well have been fuming out the ears. His brows furrowed in anger as he looked at you like you were the most vile thing he had ever seen; that satisfied something within you.

    The flurry of hits and misses was so rapid you were caught unprepared when you managed to land a punch on Hawk, Miguel's voice rising as he named you victor.

    Hawk huffed, clearly exerted. You smiled. “You're mine.”

You were fully intending to use this bet to its full potential.

The next day was Saturday, and Hawk, true to his word, showed up at your doorstep at 9 p.m sharp, just as you had ordered.

You paid him no kindness when you opened the door, not exchanging a word with him before demanding: “Helmet?”

Hawk handed you a helmet, not looking particularly pleased about the situation but not being able to stop himself from taking in an eyeful of you anyway.

You needed a ride to tonight's party – that's where Hawk came in, beginning his work for you as a personal valet. Accordingly for the event, you were dressed meticulously, showing off your best features – and if you were to judge by Hawks reaction, you were on your way to turn heads.

You climbed on the motorcycle after him, circling your arms around him loosely; but when he kicked off and started the ride, you couldn't help but tighten your hold.

    The party was overcrowded with people from the moment you got there; Yasmine's parties tended to get a bit... excessive.

You ditched Hawk the moment you got sight of your friends, ditching the helmet on his bike to run over to Sam, Moon and Yasmine.

Yasmine didn't hide the dirty look she sent at Hawk. “Ew. Who's the freak?”

You grinned proudly. “My valet. Ignore him. Actually...”

You looked over to the drinks table; someone had tapped a keg and it was being swarmed with people.

    “Hey, Hawk!”

Hawk turned to you, the slightest furrow in his brow as he had already joined his own friends. You pointed at the drinks table. “Vodka soda!” you ordered.

He rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. Your friends watched wide-eyed as he obeyed you wordlessly, bringing over the drink. “Anything else, princess?”

    “Yes,” you gave him a judging once-over. “Don't drink tonight. I want to get home in one piece.”

He bit his cheeks and glared at you before growling “Fine” and returning to his friends.

At some point you didn't even want a drink any more, it was just fun ordering Hawk to go fetch you another one; and so, you found yourself unintentionally drunk, laughing mindlessly at anything said and swaying on your feet.

You didn't even know how late it had gotten when Hawk came in the living room looking for you, ready to go home as most the others already had.

You had earlier made him promise to take you home as well, and – something you were quickly learning was, Hawk was definitely a man of his word. He spotted you half-sprawled on the couch, laughing with Yasmine at something you didn't fully register. Your cup was askew in your hand, contents about to spill over when Hawk grabbed it out of your hand, placing it on a table nearby.

    “Come on, Y/n. It's time to go.”

    “Not yet!” you grinned gleefully, taking hold of his wrist and shaking it dumbly as you spoke. “Later! We're having fun!”

Hawk placed his free hand on yours that held him. “It's four AM, Y/n, time to call it a night.”

    You didn't reply, instead resorting to pouting like a child.

His eyes softened (the puppy eyes never failed to work) – but his jaw clenched. “If you don't come now I'm leaving you here.”

    “Fine!” you hurriedly rose to your feet, using Hawk for balance. “Bye,” you pouted at Yasmine childishly as Hawk pulled you away from her and out of the house.

The sudden quiet of the outside was nearly overwhelming, Hawk's voice sounding too loud for you. “How am I supposed to get you home when you're this drunk?”

    “I'm not drunk,” you answered instinctively, knowing that you very well were.

    “If you can make it to the bike in a straight line, I'll believe you.” You look at his bike, ten feet ahead. You decide to keep holding on to him. “That's what I thought. Listen. You gotta stay awake, okay? I can't have you falling off in the middle of the road, or making me sway, because then we're both dead. Got it?”

    “Dead. Got it.”

Hawk didn't look convinced, but placed a helmet on you and buckled it anyway.

It was about ten minutes in to the ride when Hawk pulled over. He turned to you, his voice as serious as he could make it; you simply smiled, somewhat dazed. “This isn't going to work.”

    “Hm?”

    “Y/n!” Hawk called, trying to wake you up a little. “Don't fall asleep!”

    “Yes, sensei.” you slurred. Had you been any more awake, you might have noticed the way Hawk's eyes widened at that.

Hawk had to refocus himself to go on. “I'm serious. Look... My house is closer than yours. You can sleep it off at mine, and I'll take you wherever tomorrow. Okay?”

    “Okay,” you shrugged, your mind not caring about much other than regaining the warmth of Hawk's body pressed against yours.

Minutes later you pulled up at an unfamiliar house. Hawk unbuckled your helmet and set it aside, helping you off the bike and guiding you inside, motioning Shhh as he led you through the corridor of his darkened house until you reached his room.

The most natural thing for you to do the moment you saw a bed was to collapse on it. In the seconds Hawk turned his back on you to find you Pj's to wear, you had fallen asleep.

    Looking at you on his bed, Hawk exhaled heavily. He was very aware of your hatred of him; what he couldn't understand was, if everyone else forgave him, why not you?

It certainly didn't help that you looked the way you do, that you were talented, and that everyone loved you.

So Hawk undid your shoes and pulled them off, laying a blanket on you before leaving you to sleep.

    You woke up groggy, somewhat hungover and in a strangers room; an interesting start to the day.

You didn't really want to leave the comfort of your lonesome in the room but it was clear you would have to face the music at some point, so you womaned up and left the room.

Following the smell of food cooking, you walk down a hallway to find a red-haired man in the kitchen, his tattooed back to you, muscles flexing as he flipped a pancake.

With his hair down, it took you a moment to register who you're seeing; who's bed you spent the night in.

    Hawk.

Your first instinct was to groan, to cower in to yourself in regret; but then you remember how tenderly he treated you the night prior, making sure you got safely to a bed, letting you have his bed.

You swallowed your pride and stepped in to the kitchen. “Morning.”

Hawk's shoulders jumped in fright as you startled him; you couldn't help but giggle. He quickly rightened himself, straightening his back and flexing his abs as he turned to you.

    He was good looking and he knew it. You hated him.

However, you felt your power returning to you as he couldn't help but look you up and down, your disheveled clothes revealing a bit more than they had the night before. Hawk inhaled sharply, reminding himself of who he was, how he was supposed to act: unfazed.

    “Bout time you got up.”

You frowned, looking at the kitchen clock. “What do you mean about time? It isn't even noon yet.”

    “Yeah, well,” Hawk flipped a pancake on to a nearby plate. “You wanted me to take you to the mall today, right? I have practice later, so it's gotta be now.” The Eagle-fangs were holding weekend practices of their own, something you weren't a fan of.

    “Jeez, fine,” you sneered, allowing yourself to sit at the kitchen table. Amidst the chaos that was waking up in Hawks bed, you had totally forgot you previously asked him to take you out today. Yasmine's parents were making her take tutoring lessons, Moon was doing some spiritual healing thing and Sam was with Miguel, so you were left all alone – but you certainly didn't intend on spending Sunday at home, doing nothing.

    Hawk finally shut off the burner and joined you at the table with a stack of pancakes and two plates in tow. “Eat away your hangover. I'm not gonna hold your hair up if you hurl.”

Breakfast with Hawk ended up being a surprisingly civil affair; so was shopping. There was something exciting about dragging him along after you, shop after shop, having him carry your bags and modeling clothes for him. And honestly, you were loving the effect you had on him. You knew he was trying to hide it, but you could see the way he grew antsy when you tried on bikinis. You loved teasing him, knowing he couldn't have you.

    What also didn't hurt was the way you two turned heads walking down streets together. You were undeniably gorgeous, and he... While at first you thought it was the bright red mohawk that grabbed peoples eyes, after a close inspection you couldn't deny he had fair features, too. You had to look away whenever he tensed his jaw, accentuating his jawline, or if God forbid he smiled, you had to deny the way his smile made your stomach knot up.

    As though to top off the experience of him, by the time you finished shopping, Hawk would have been late if he was to take you home, so you suggested he take you to practice with him and just take you home once he was finished. And oh my... You did not need to see him fighting. Having a whole hour to see his biceps flexing as the threw punches was doing you no favors; when you were both practicing you were too busy with yourself to notice him, but right then you had a whole hour to do nothing but stare.

At the end of the practice you rose when Hawk approached you, ready to go. When his sensei understood you were waiting there for him, he asked Hawk, “Yours?”

Hawk didn't answer; he merely smirked that Hawk smirk of his. His sensei nodded proudly. “Nice.” Creep.

You had a couple more days to squeeze the most you could out of your bet, and by all means were you planning on using them.

Hawk was taking you to school and home every day on the back of his bike – to Miyagi-do, too. It became a regular thing to see you two together, and if anyone was expecting you, they expected Hawk, too.

Just as the previous mornings, you and Hawk walked in to school together. Seeing your friends, you bid him goodbye and went to join them, your eyes lingering on him a bit too long as he said hello to Miguel.

Yasmine's jaw dropped as she looked at you, her expression scandalized. “What?” you asked.

    “You're totally in to the freak!”

    “What? No,” you denied – but even as the words left your mouth, you could hear your lack of conviction. “No.”

You looked back to where Hawk and Miguel stood; this time, he caught your eye. Then, with total audacity, he winked at you.

You felt heat rush through your body.

The smirk that grew on him suggested he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

    You hated it.

Deciding to put an end to this madness, you wordlessly leave your friends and march up to Hawk, a new rage running though you.

He stopped talking with Miguel when you reached him; Miguel visibly tensed at what he felt was a dangerous situation for him to be in.

    “Sidebar,” you ordered. Hawk smirked.

    “After you, princess.”

You hoped no one would notice when you lured him in to an empty classroom, but in all honesty, it was you and Hawk. There were always eyes on you two.

You turned to him once you were engulfed in the silence of the room. “Listen. I don't know what you're playing at, but cut it out. I own you, got it? Don't go winking at me in the hallway like I'm your girlfriend or something.”

You expected to see him cower, blush, show any sign of intimidation – but there was no such emotion. The smirk he wore only grew in confidence. “You sure about that?” he asked cheekily. “Because it seems to me like you'll find any excuse to be around me.”

You couldn't believe the audacity of this boy. You were stunted for words; he went on. “Be honest with yourself. Once the week is up, you'll still find reasons to talk to me.”

You bit your cheeks; you hated how he was right, how he read you so easily. “And look, I'm done playing this game too.”

Your stomach dropped. Was he about to reject you, without you even confessing? “I'm not playing with you,” you tried to say intimidatingly, but your voice came out too small for comfort.

    “Me neither. So...” Hawk looked down at you; you could have drowned in his ocean eyes. You averted your gaze to the side, crossing your arms.

    “Fine. We can call it off early.”

Hawk chuckled. You wanted to punch him. “You still don't get it, do you?”

You returned your eyes to Hawk, ready to chew him out when he placed his hands on your cheeks, pulling you to him for a kiss.

You could feel yourself melting in to the kiss, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you as you finally got to experience what you didn't want to admit to yourself that you craved so deeply.

When he finally pulled away, he kept his hands on you, your noses nearly touching. “I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Hawk admitted.

You half-smiled. “It's only been a week.”

Hawk had burst in laughter, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. “You still don't get it.” Before you could protest his words, his lips met your once more.

    Maybe you could find it in you to forgive him, after all.

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

[brattyfics]

drunk dialing | writer wednesday

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!OFC

Summary: Angel's ex-girlfriend gives him a call one night when she has too much to drink.

Tags: Angst, Toxic!Angel, Unresolved Feelings, Alcohol Consumption.

Word Count: 1.5k

1:16.

“She doesn’t need anymore.”

The words barely register over the hustle and bustle of the packed sports bar. Basketball reruns play on the television, old school r&b blaring over the loudspeakers. The bartender takes one look at Summer and the way her frame is slumped over just slightly, the way her dark brown eyes have glazed over, and nods his agreement. From their places on barstools, her friends thank him, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at Summer from the corners of their eyes. She can’t bring herself to care. They don’t understand. She’s drowning in the liquor but also an ocean of misery. The waves steadily pull her down further at each turn.

No one understands, so she takes special care to savor the dark amber liquid as it burns her from the inside out.

2:29.

Last call in the state of California is 1:30 am for any establishment that sells alcohol. Businesses like the bar that so graciously hosts Summer and her friends can stay open later, and they usually do. Most patrons abide by state law, using the time to sober up by stuffing themselves with greasy foods-- pizza, fries, chicken wings. Instead of drinking, they make plans to come back and meet up with the strangers they have become fast friends with or say goodbye to their college buddies in town for the weekend.

If You Think You’re Lonely Now plays as patrons began to shuffle out. Summer hums along.

If you think you’re lonely now, huh

Wait until tonight, girl (If you think you’re lonely now)

I’ll be long gone (You just wait until tonight girl)

And you’ll never find another man that’ll treat ya’ right

And then there are the lonely.

The ones at the bar every evening without fail, using it as home in place of the one they lack. They slide the servers bribes, crisp and crumpled twenty dollar bills across the bar top. She watches with tired eyes as they slide shot glasses back in exchange. Summer thinks she would try her luck if it weren’t for the mother hens watching over her with careful eyes. Her friends-- Aliyah, Jasmine, and Nia already think she’s a ticking time bomb. The last thing she needs to do is give them the ammunition they need to call her an alcoholic.

3:34.

It takes a while for the bar to clear out. Nia has to use the bathroom at the last minute, complaining about it being filthy when she returns. Jasmine mutters an obviously while Summer pitifully sips the last remnants of her drink. The melted ice cubes ruin it, she can’t taste the bourbon at all, but every little drop counts, right?

Summer refuses the hand offered to her by Aliyah as they stumble out into the parking lot. Aliyah hovers with her arms poised to catch her just in case. Nia absentmindedly plays a card game on her phone behind them, and Jasmine heads up the group, her keys noisily jingling as she swings them back and forth. She’s the designated driver and the only one sober enough to drive.

It’s a typical summer night in California, dry but cold and windy, so they quicken their pace. With every step, Bobby Womack’s crooning is stuck on replay in Summer’s mind. The lyrics resonate with her…

When it’s cold outside who are you holding?

...and she’s about to voice her thoughts when she sees it.

“Is that a phone booth?!” The words come out more hysterical than probably they should. Sure, it’s been like ten years since she’s seen one in person, and she didn’t know they still existed, so she’s a little excited and a lot drunk, but it’s just a phone booth. One that’s narrow and brightly lit in the midnight blue of the night. Aliyah, who forgot her glasses at home, squints at the white blob until she can make out its shape.

“I think it is.” She sounds a little mystified herself, and that’s all the encouragement Summer needs in her state. One minute she’s cheesing wide, and the next, she’s sprinting across the street towards the phone booth, giggling and tugging her short dress down the whole way.

The girls yell after her, but she tunes them out, snatching the ice cold phone off the hook. She’s even more enamored when she pulls the heavy metal to her ear and hears the dial tone.

It works!

High heels click loudly behind her. Summer turns just in time to see the girls come to a stop behind her, out of breath and unamused. Jasmine leans over and rests her forearms on her knees. “What the hell?” She hisses, glaring daggers at her friend. Summer ignores her, punching the chunky silver buttons like she’s in a trance. Even inebriated, she knows them by heart. One number after the other, she dials the one person she knows she shouldn’t.

Angel Reyes.

She vaguely registers her friends telling her to put the phone down. She knows that she’s making a mistake, but the armor she wears to protect herself from the world is too heavy. She strips it away, her inhibitions lowered. All she wants is him.

Ring...

“She’s been drinking. We should do something.” Sweet Aliyah is always the voice of reason. Nia sounds bored and over the situation. “This is so dumb.” Jasmine tugs on her arm. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

Ring…

“There’s no harm in a phone call, right?” Aliyah says, but her voice is shaky. She’s wrong, and they all know it.

Ri--

“Hello?” The reception is shitty, and the volume in the earpiece low, but with one word, Summer’s hooked all over again. She doesn’t say anything for several moments, the sound of her harsh breathing the only thing that transmits. There’s a long, tense moment where Summer tries to convince herself to hang up, but then Angel says, “Baby, is this you?” She hates the sob she releases into the phone from the simple words. She draws her bottom lip into her mouth to quiet the sound. Her girlfriends freeze, unsure of what to do.

“Y-yeah, it’s me.”

“You been drinking, mami?”

“Maybe.” Summer sways, and Aliyah is there, using her arm to prop her best friend up. It’s a silent act of support, a reminder that Angel isn’t and shouldn’t be the center of her universe. She has supportive friends, a loving family. She doesn’t need him.

“Where you at? I’ll come get you.” She doesn’t need him, but she’s tempted to tell him to meet her back at Jasmine’s place. It’s only a ten-minute ride from his place, five minutes if he speeds the way she knows he does.

Speeds the way he did when she caught him at Vicki’s with Adelita. He had been acting shady for months, whispering on the phone, keeping odd hours. She had felt like a crazy woman when she put the tracker on his bike, but her intuition was validated when she saw his location. She followed him, expecting to find him with one of Vicki’s girls. Instead, she found him there with Adelita and her protruding belly, rubbing it with his large, ringed hands like a doting father. Like they were some happy fucking family.

Summer had nearly lost her mind, knocking over furniture, breaking bottles from behind the bar. Luckily for them, EZ caught her wrist and restrained her. The sight of Angel shielding that woman, protecting her when he hadn’t protected her feelings, was ingrained in her mind. Realizing that all the men she regarded highly and looked up to as older brothers and uncles had been lying, and helping Angel hide his cheating, was something she would never forget.

Being betrayed like that should have been enough to make her stop loving him, but... it just wasn’t. Summer often found herself wondering what was wrong with her. Why did she pine after a man that hurt her so badly? Sure, Angel’s handsome, and funny, and sweet, and really, really good in bed, but he’s not good. Not for Summer.

She sniffles into the phone, “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you.” She tries to will the words to be true, but the tears gliding down her face tell a different story.

“Why call me then?”

“Too much liquor.”

He snorts out a laugh but then pauses as if considering something. “Yeah, me too.” Summer swears she can make out the sound of Gilly shouting something in the background, but maybe she’s so drunk that she’s imagining things. Maybe she’s making it all up in her head because she longs for their relationship back. She always finds herself back at square one when it comes to Angel, wishing things could go back to how they were, that she could erase all the bad and keep all the good.

You see the night's the time when the needs come out

When your needs come out to breathe

And the jonesing starts and there ain't no way you can sleep, ooh

“You hurt me.” Summer doesn’t bother to hide her bitterness. She knows Angel won’t acknowledge the words because the only pain he can recognize is his own.

“Summer, why are you calling?” His voice has an edge to it this time. He’s daring her to make a decision, pick a side. Either she wants to be with him, or she doesn’t. His gruff tone, the callousness with which he says the words should make her want to turn away from him.

Instead, it makes her heart lurch.

She feels desperate to hold onto him, so she says, “'Cause I-I...I love you.”

Notes: The prompt is from @autumnleaves1991-blog Weekly Writing Challenge. Summer Walker - Drunk Dialing...LODT & Bobby Womack - If You Think You’re Lonely Now inspired this fic. Let's all pretend you don't have to pay to use a pay phone lol. Do you like to see moodboards/covers for fics? Please let me know. Hope you all enjoy!

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

Angel Reyes:

@claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

[idy-ll-ique]

Balisong.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Roommate AU

Requested: by @tom-hlover

Tom Hiddleston x (roommate) reader where reader is harboring a secret crush on Tom, but she thinks that Tom only sees her as a friend, she loves to sing when she's alone, and sends Tom letters through the mailbox making it seem from another place,but in reality the return address is from her friend's address whom is out of the country and lets reader use the address for now, as she is serving as the house's caretaker as well 😅😅 until Tom finds out and also turns out hears reader's singing? And I was thinking of the song "Bali Song" by Rivermaya for that one particularly 😅😅😊😊

Summary: Y/N, who is roommates with Tom Hiddleston (omg they were roommates) has a crush on him and instead of confessing her love like a normal person, she writes him love-letters using a fake identity and address. What happens when Tom finds out, though?

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Hey guys! Special shoutout to @tom-hlover for the prompt, finished writing it under an hour so you have to excuse me if it's crappy. Enjoy!

---

Y/N POV:

"Oh, look, another letter from the secret admirer. I wonder what she wrote this time."

I looked up from where I was tending to the houseplants and gave Tom a quick grin. "Endearing words, as always. She does like you a lot," I professed with a slight chuckle, giving him a small smile and looking away when I felt a blush creeping up on my cheeks.

Tom sat down on the couch and opened the letter. "Dear Tom…" I stopped listening after that, I knew the whole thing to heart anyway. Wondering how? Well, I was the one who wrote it, simple! Let me explain. I'm Y/N Y/L/N and the person I was speaking to? Tom Hiddleston, my roomie.

Yeah we lived together; we had been friends for a long time and I needed a place so Tom offered to keep me at his home until I found another home. Nearly 5 years had passed since that incident and now we sort of just lived together, fallen into a nice, daily routine. I also happened to have a huge, huge, huge crush on him. Knowing how many other people, much better than myself, adored him, I kept my feelings to myself.

Oh and by the way, I paid my share of the rent so don't come at me! "She's so sweet with these, I might just pay her a visit! What is the address?" I looked up, wide-eyed as Tom took the envelope in his hand. "Do you really need to?" I blurted out, turning red when he squinted his eyes at me. "Do you know this person?" he blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I don't," I muttered, "You know what? Fine, go meet this person. I just hope they're not, you know, a psychopath." Yes, I knew I was talking about myself but was I wrong, though? Instead of confessing my feelings like a normal person, I was sending letters to my crush like I lived in the Victorian Era, using my best friend's address while she was out living somewhere else.

"I'm sure she's not. Anyway, what are your plans for later?" He let out a yawn, slouching on the couch. "Nothing much, I finish some work and then bam, dinner time." Tom laughed. "I have an interview early tomorrow, so I'm going to sleep early tonight. What do you want for dinner?" I shrugged. "Anything's fine, thanks!" He ruffled my hair and got up, going to the kitchen.

Okay, I see a lot of you are staring in confusion, let me clear things up yet again. I liked Tom for nearly 3 years now, but had no idea how to proceed with my feelings. Did he even like me back? Would he even like me back? That's when my best friend gave me a brilliant idea.

She said she was moving elsewhere and that her previous house was going to be empty but she was still going to be the owner. "Hey, Y/N, maybe you can go live there if you want!" she suggested. And I told her, "Hm, I'll think about it." Ever since then, I was the caretaker of the house, visiting it once a week to see if everything was okay with it.

One day when I was there, looking out the balcony into the garden, I came across the said brilliant idea. Why don't I just send letters to Tom from this address confessing my love?! He didn't know about it, and I technically won't be telling him anything in person. A great way to get the feelings off my chest while not getting the feelings off my chest!

Ever since then, I had started writing letters to him, once a week. Most of them were small, one paragraph long, along the lines of "hey how are you I love you thanks" while in some, I included lovesick quotes from famous authors like William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf, Jane Austen or Anaïs Nin. Tom was a fanatic of classical literature, it only made sense.

With a sigh, I got up and went to my room, getting started with my work only to end up spending all my time on social media until Tom called me over for dinner.

---

Tom POV:

"Ah, yes, this is the address," I said to myself, stopping outside a beautiful estate surrounded by pretty gardens. I parked the car and stepped out, heading to the door. As I was about to knock, I noticed that the door was locked. "Huh?" I whispered, maybe she wasn't home at the time? "Excuse me, sir? I saw your car parked outside…" I turned to see an old man blinking at me.

"Where's the woman who lives here?" I asked him. "Woman? This house has been empty for years, son, the last woman that lived here moved to the colonies 3 years ago." My eyes widened. So all this time, I was getting letters from… a ghost? Or was someone using a false address?

"Are you sure no one comes by, or anything?"

"Well, a fair young lady does stop by every week. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N, very polite and kind, she's like a daughter to me. She looks after the house; she's looking to move in, I guess but I'm not sure. Nice meeting you, young man! If you do want to meet up with the pseudo-owner, Y/N, she will stop by next Sunday at 11 am."

"Oh, I wouldn't need to do that," I muttered, bade him farewell and got back into the car. Well well well, things just got… interesting. I smiled widely as I drove back home. I had no idea Y/N felt the same way! All this time, the one-sided pining was actually mutual pining… it all ends today. Now that I knew she liked me back and my love wasn't in vain, there was nothing that could stop me from confessing.

Upon reaching home, I quietly opened the door only to see that Y/N was in the kitchen, singing a song unknown to me as she cooked. Like a thief, I tiptoed in and quietly closed the door behind me. I walked up to the kitchen, stopping when I heard the lyrics.

To speak or not to, where to begin

A great dilemma I'm finding myself in

For all I know you only see me as a friend

I try to tell myself, "Wake up, fool

This fairytale has got to end"

I leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, finding it strange that she still hadn't taken notice of me. You only see me as a friend? Nonsense, I definitely liked her more than that. For some reason, the lyrics seemed familiar— Oh yes, the song Y/N apparently liked to sing all the time! What was the name, uh…

Never in my life have I been more sure

So come on up to me and close the door

Nobody's made me feel this way before

You're everything I wanted…

When she (amazingly) sang those lines, I decided to make my move. I walked forward and put my arms around her from behind, laughing when she screamed. "Tom! Oh my God, when did you come home?!" I spun her around, trapping her between the kitchen counter and myself. "A few minutes ago. You sing wonderfully, love," I smirked. She visibly gulped. "Uh, what are you—"

"Don't play dumb now. Aren't you the one who writes those letters? Don't lie to me." Her eyes went wide. "How did you find out? I'm sorry, I—" I cut off her trail of words by leaning down, capturing her lips with mine in a magical kiss. She, thankfully, didn't push away, instead wrapping her arms around me.

"I didn't think you'd like me back," she mumbled when we pulled away to breathe. "All that matters is that we're together now." She chuckled and snuggled into my arms. With a content sigh, I pulled her close, running my fingers through her hair as I held her close. "I love you," I said simply, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too, think that's quite obvious."

We laughed. "How did you find out, though? What gave it away?" She got out of my arms and turned back to her cooking. I leaned against the counter next to her, crossing my arms. "I just visited the address on the letter. The door was locked, then I met an old man who said the person who lived there moved to the USA 3 years ago."

"My best friend, Y/F/N."

"He told me your name, saying how you went there every Sunday to look after the house. How come I didn't know?"

"Oh, Bertram. I always lied about going out on Sundays. I guess we sort of owe our relationship to Bert, don't we?"

I laughed and kissed her on the temple. "For sure, we do. What is that song you sing all the time, you were singing it just now?" She snorted and took out her phone, opening Spotify. She put on the song and turned to me, holding her hand out. "Balisong by Rivermaya. Care for a dance?"

"Don't mind if I do."

---

A/N: Oooh two fics in a row?? leave a like if you enjoyed lol thanks for reading!

[enigmatist17]

That Smile (Psychonauts 2)

PSYCHONAUTS 2 SPOILERS AHEAD I played the sequel on launch and have fallen in love with this series all over again, and Raz is still my baby <3 Anyways I may or may not have forgotten to post this, so have at it lol

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

Agent Sasha Nein was a lot of things, the brilliant scientist who danced around his morally questionable experiments. While many children idolized him from True Psychic Tales, the man was hardly ever approached when a child did actually meet him. The stories never captured his short demeanor, empty smirk when he would casually mention tossing children to a test in his mind, or lab that seemed like it held a lot of dark secrets.

Razputin Aquato was the first one to come back.

The child had caused a stir from the moment he had snuck into Whispering Rock, and after inviting him Sasha had expected the child never to return. Yet Sasha was surprised when he came back from Agent Cruller with his badge, grinning while bouncing in front of the brain tumbler. Raz had proved himself to be among the best students Sasha had ever trained, and it wasn’t until the whirlwind of not only knocking Oleandar back to his sense, and subsequently rescuing Grand Head Zanotto that Sasha had time to think about Raz.

The scientist had never been one for children, as strange as it was for him to be working at Whispering Rock during the summer was. He was more content with his test tubes, blinking consoles, and many experiments that would usually raise eyebrows of those on the ethically moral side of the community. Yet Raz had wormed his way into Sasha’s mind with ease, something that surprised the doctor.

Perhaps that’s why he was currently trying, for the first time in...ever, not to lash out at the newest interns and Raz’s family.

It had been a long day of questioning Loboto, and Sasha had originally set out for some fresh coffee at the lovely time of 2 am. The Motherlobe was quiet around this time, which suited the other just fine as he made his way down familiar hallways. Talking to anyone who wasn’t the few people who didn’t irritate Sasha was hard enough on his good days, doing so after failing time and time again with prying out Loboto’s secret would usually be enough to make him shunt people across the room. However, seeing a tired Raz sitting against a wall across from the intern’s sleeping quarters made him pause and approach the half-awake child.

“Razputin? What on earth are you doing outside this late at night?”   Raz’s eyes shot open, and instead of the usual cherry and awkward explanations Sasha was accustomed to, Raz just sighed.

“I, uh, I got locked out.”  The agent frowned, knowing that part of it was most likely still a hazing from the other interns that Sasha most normally would have ignored. Yet Raz had his family nearby, and this puzzled Sasha as he knelt down beside the child. Raz, after looking into those green goggles, seemed to have sensed what Sasha was going to ask because he just gave a shake of his head. It made sense, Raz probably was not expecting more of his family to come and see their son at the place he had escaped to, which probably added to the stress that radiated off of him in waves. Normally, Sasha would just give a strained pat on the head and quickly escape such a situation, but this time Sasha leaned forward and scooped the child up and into his arms. It wasn’t smooth, Raz jerked his head right up into Sasha’s jaw, and this nearly caused the scientist to fall back, but after adjusting his hold and standing up fully that the two just kind of...looked at each other. Raz looked so confused, suspicious, and exhausted, studying Sasha’s blank face for some sort of response to what he had just done.

“I’m going to get some coffee, and then return to my lab.” Sasha remains neutral as he starts carrying Raz down the hallway, merely adjusting his hold when the child slumps against him moments later. He’s asleep by the time Sasha finishes making his coffee in the cafeteria, letting out soft snores one has to strain their ears to hear if they weren’t a trained agent like the scientist. Sasha watches Raz silently, wondering why this child among the many he had trained over the years had made the agent care for them and their wellbeing. Was it the boundless optimism? The excitement of being allowed to earn a place as an agent? Or was it as simple as Sasha shared so much with Raz, and for once Sasha was branching out to trust and care for the other? It could be one of those things, it could be all of them. No matter the answer, the scientist didn’t much care as he carried Raz to his room to sleep, knowing full well of the interns watching with wide eyes. Raz was gone the next morning before Sasha could speak to him, and he didn’t seek the other out due to his own work.

It’s not until days later after Ford Cruller and the Psychic 6 (or rather 7, not that it mattered) had reunited to help defeat Maligula, did Sasha and Raz have the time. Sasha and Vodello were quietly sitting together on one of the balcony’s overlooking the mountains when the familiar shape of Raz’s balloon interrupted the view. Vodello held her free arm out to Raz, who wordlessly padded over to the agents and allowed himself to be set between them. For a while the three just sat together, watching the sun slowly inch its way down below the mountain line, Raz leaning against Milla while his legs were tucked up under his chin. At one point Sasha had shed his lab coat and draped it over Raz, wild red hair poking out being the only indication someone was underneath the cloth. Vodello was the next to carry Raz inside and to bed, Sasha watching Raz before taking up the couch to sleep that night. Call it sentimentality or intuition, he wasn’t surprised to feel Raz carefully join him on the couch, a quiet sniffle making Sasha gently put his arm over Raz and tuck him close.

“Thanks…” It’s such a quiet and strained voice, and Sasha feels his heart break for the first time in years.

“Sleep Razputin, we will work through this in time.” He can’t promise such a thing, he knows this, but right now he needs to be gentle, so he says them. Raz sniffles against before slowly falling still, and finally sleeps properly for the first time since he stepped foot in Whispering Rock. Sasha eventually sleeps as well, dreaming of future skills to teach Raz and how on earth he was going to break the news to Vodello.

Her quiet laugh in their mental link follows Sasha to sleep, and Sasha smiles to himself as he’s pulled into a pleasant dream.

[shoutogepi]

Playing “Strip Twister” with His Crush

with Bakugou Katsuki

genre : [ ✘ (NSFW!) ]  

hc prompt : how would he react while playing strip twister with you?

author’s note : i’m so sorry i abandoned my prompt party & left y’all hangin :’( i’ve been in a weird writing funk lately so i apologize if this is rough <3

obviously bakugou doesn’t know how he got roped into playing this.

at first he violently denied the possibility of playing. the second the word “strip” came out of kaminari’s mouth, bakugou bristled like a cat. his eyes did that wild, half-moon look as he shot up in anger, immediately growling out that he would not take part in such a game.

kirishima had instantly countered with a “you ashamed of your body bro?” and bakugou had nearly burst into flames. he was half a step toward the redhead when kaminari asked if you would be playing.

which turned out to be a very cutely hesitant “sure”.

and just like that, the explosive blonde had found himself grumbling, his arms crossed and positioned in an faux-uninterested stance as kaminari lists out the rules. not that he’s paying attention to him anyway. no, his vermillion eyes are trained on the side of your face.

god, you look so pretty in that skirt. the possibility of getting to peek underneath the garment makes the blood under his skin turn hot, and he tears his gaze away from you, turning to glare at kaminari. your eyes are on the electric boy currently explaining the perviest version of the rules bakugou has ever heard, and he hates that a cold trickle of jealousy oozes into his veins as he frowns at your undivided attention.

he chances another glance at you to find your eyes on his own body, and he hates it even more how he can’t look away from you. you’re magnetic, radiating like a goddess. you’re fierce in an unexpected kind of way, and it makes his throat dry and his heart thump like a stupid cartoon.

the game begins and everyone is standing eagerly at the corners of the mat. bakugou tried to be a respectable one person away from you but it was mina who was at your side, and the pink-haired girl immediately winked at bakugou and slipped to the other side of the mat. her absence left an awkward hole between the two of you, and bakugou stumbled forward dopily when kirishima nudged him aside.

“right foot red” is called first, and as if it were some unspoken rule, everyone blocked off all the spots near bakugou’s feet except for the one right next to yours.

it carries on like this when “left hand yellow” and “right hand green” are called. but eventually the group’s teamwork proves successful, and you swear as you slide off the mat with a groan— you’re the first one to strip.

bakugou’s heart leaps into his throat when your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, and his eyes dart across the newly exposed skin on your stomach.

he tries so hard to tear his gaze from your chest. and yet his red orbs are glued to your black satin bra— lace curling underneath and kissing the middle of your ribs with a tiny ribbon in the middle to tie it all together. what a wonderful present. oh, how he’d love to unwrap that— unwrap you.

the entire room erupts into laughter when bakugou’s hand slips, and he crashes face-first into the twister mat.

bakugou growls in anger and embarrassment, and he rips the shirt from his shoulders almost viciously, revealing his sculpted chest and rippling abs. he wonders if you’re looking at him— if you can’t take your eyes away from him.

he smirks when he feels the heat of your stare on his skin, roving over his physique like a wave caressing the shore.

sero tumbles next, and he takes off his pants. kirishima shreds his shirt, as does mina. denki somehow has all his clothes on. apparently it is not his first time playing.

it’s nearing the end of the current game, and only bakugou and you are still upright on the mat.

bakugou, ever the competitive one, refuses to give up. he bites his tongue as he watches you twist to reach the next spot, the smooth skin of your exposed side brushing against his jean-clad thigh. the action has a fucsia flush spreading across his cheeks, and he thanks god that you’re facing away from him so you can’t see his expression.

what the explosive blonde fails to realize is that, by staying in the game for this long, he’s inadvertently forcing you to strip even further.

it dawns on him when you finally sink onto the ground in defeat, a long whine sliding from your throat.

when you move to take off a sock, denki is quick to berate you, instantly exclaiming that socks have to stay on when playing twister— had you even listened to him explain the rules?

bakugou’s jaw drops when your thumbs reluctantly dip under the top of your skirt. the most uncomfortable, timid expression he’s ever seen is plastered to your face, and for a moment he wonders what your panties look like underneath that little skirt. he obviously wants to find out.

and yet he finds himself slapping your hands away from your waist. kaminari groans as the other three share a knowing smirk. but bakugou doesn’t see any of them extras anyway. his eyes are on you.

his breath is definitely stuck midway in his lungs as he unbuckles his belt, and he holds your gaze til his pants hit the floor around his ankles. he’s wearing black boxer-briefs, extremely thankful for his bland choice of underwear this morning.

for the rest of the night, bakugou keeps his eyes away from you. little do you know, it’s because he doesn’t want to chance popping a boner— there’s no way he could hide it in this situation and that would be straight up mortifying.

when the night is finally over, bakugou grumbles as he retires to his dorm. he blushes as he sits on his bed, letting his head fall into his hands. while tonight didn’t go as smoothly as he’d hoped, he did get to see your naked chest and feel your skin on his.

after he’s brushed his teeth— albeit a bit more viciously than usual— he’s laying back onto his sheets, closing his eyes and laying his palm against his ribs. his hand is right over the spot your own had grazed, and he gulps as he recalls how his skin had nearly sizzled under your touch.

he nearly toppled off the bed when a knock on the door disrupts him— his hand tearing away from his skin as he opens his eyes. he lets out a breath at the sight of the blank, dark ceiling. the image he had in his mind was much more enticing.

but the image he’s greeted with when he opens his door is even better.

you’re standing there looking at him, in a little pair of sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt. you look like you’re ready for bed. and you look absolutely dreamy.

“i just wanted to say thank you,” you choke out, hands behind your back.

a blonde eyebrow rises above his red eyes. “what for, dopey?” on the inside he’s groaning at his response. why does he always have to be such a dick?

“for taking your pants off,” you say, and bakugou bites back a laugh as your eyes widen and you let out a shocked noise. “i mean— for doing that— for me.” 

bakugou chuckles and leans against the doorframe. he likes to tease you; he finds you especially cute when you’re flustered, and extra points if he’s the cause. “it’s fine, dumbass. don’t mention it.”

after sharing a stare with him you lean toward him, your tongue poking out to roll over your lip. he watches the pink muscle with sharp eyes, and you smirk.

“i’m glad i didn’t have to take my skirt off earlier in front of everyone,” you say, and bakugou’s gaze instantly jumps to yours again.

his throat dries, mouth opening slightly as his jaw slackens. where the hell are you going with this? he has an idea, but he can’t really believe you’d actually be going there.

“but i did kind of… want to take my skirt off for one person in particular.”

jesus christ. you are going there.

“really now,” bakugou tries to feign ignorance, even if his voice comes out sounding a little bit more gravely than usual. “and who could that person be?”

glancing over your shoulder both ways, your lips curl into a smirk as you look at him. “it’s a secret, do you mind if i tell you in private?”

bakugou pulls you inside his room in one easy swoop, hands already sliding down your hips to grab at your shorts. he’s frenzied, confidence oozing out of his pores with as much ease as nitroglycerin from his quirk. there’s a glint in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips as he shoves you down, your knees buckling round the corner of the mattress.

“how ‘bout you show me instead?”

this is a long ass hc omg. also i am aware this isn’t usually how hc’s are written but i can’t write them normally so this is what you get lol. once again sorry these are taking me so long <3

➥ masterlist

➥ prompt party masterlist