#((whoops forever late I apologize))

[silverzoomies]

Great Pumpkin

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, drunk sex, halloween party, porn with feelings, use of the speech quirk "yer"

word count: 7,878

a/n: meant to finish this one before halloween. whoops !! at least november is the spook before christmas !! or halloween 2, electric boogaloo !!

some notes about this one: i wanna apologize for the needless plot. i know it's unnecessary, but i got a little carried away. if anything feels awkward, out of place, or weird? that's my bad. sorry. i was havin' too much fun writing the less smutty stuff. some other notes - think of this as an au, i guess. where erik is hiding out at xavier's for...reasons? idfk. sitcom logic. everyone's living together !! but there's tension !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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All Hallows Eve.

Prior to the X-Family’s spooktacular bash, Hank whipped up a little something special. Using his Einstein brain - or wizard sorcery. Peter couldn’t be too sure - the beastly scientist conjured a powerful inebriant. He heard Peter joke one too many times about his inability to get drunk. Since the speedster’s body filtered through substances at break-neck speed. Leaving not a second’s worth of intoxication time.

No exaggeration there. Peter once tried chugging his mom’s entire stash of liquor, along with a bottle of Purple Toad wine. Some really fruity stuff. Such a mass of booze only left a burn in his throat, along with an onslaught of nausea. All of which lasted 0.2 seconds.

Hank wanted to do Peter a favor for all his hard work lately. And now, he could finally participate in what he missed out on. After all these years. As long as he didn’t use the substance for any nefarious purposes. Per Hank’s request. Whatever that meant. Not like Peter planned on playing pranks at this year’s party. C’mon…really? He’s a teacher, for Geddy’s sake! He's gotta set a good example.

Spoiler alert: he had planned on it. Keyword being had.

Until the inebriation actually kicked in. For the first time in his unconventional life, a warm buzz pooled through Peter’s bloodstream. One of the major side effects? Debuffs to superspeed. Which proved an otherworldly experience. If not a little uncomfortable. Still worth it, for a one-night-only lesson in drunkenness.

Peering lazily into his red solo cup, Peter blinked. His eyes followed swirls of neon cyan. Luminous in its irradiated glow. He couldn’t comprehend the science behind Hank’s glowstick booze. But he knew it filtered through his body at a much slower rate than other substances. The drink felt syrupy on his tongue, and tasted like - coincidentally enough - candy corn. Its effects proved weaker than Peter expected. 

Given his cells operated so incomprehensibly fast, Peter didn’t find this too surprising. So, what? He’d never get frat party wasted. Oh well. Peter came to accept that fact about himself forever ago. Still, fluorescent booze made him mellow enough to slow down a lot. Peter could totally vibe with mellow. No complaints there. Mellow’s copacetic. He definitely owed Beastie for his magic potion of slow-mo. Peter oscillated between a nice, tipsy balance. Muddled enough to let loose and enjoy himself. But conscious enough to avoid making any ultra stupid decisions.

Or, he thought so, anyway.

Hobbling around the mansion, Peter pushed through crowds of partygoers. All dressed in their spookiest, sexiest, or most low-effort costumes. Twinkles of orange and violet lights kept the mansion somewhat lit. With spoOoOoOoOoky decorations scattered amongst the school. A perfectly campy atmosphere for Halloween. Oh. And those decorations? All Peter’s doing. Of course, it’s no surprise the professor deemed him prime event decorator. He took mere microseconds to spice up an entire plot of land. Throwing forth all his effort, Peter dressed the building in balls-to-the-walls, haunting decor. 

Fake spiders with prickly fur lay strewn about in random places. Ghosts made of old, torn sheets swayed in the breeze. Skeletons hanged by the dozens. Streamers of orange and faded black dangled from the ceilings and doorways. String lights lined the mansion’s trim. Outside on the grounds, Peter even garnished the grass with inflatable Snoopys.

During his decorative escapades, he cracked jokes to the kids. Peter asked, “You guys think the Great Pumpkin’ll show up?”

They squealed with laughter, stomping their little feet. Candy buckets in hand, the kids yelled, “Mr. Maximoff, the Great Pumpkin’s not real!!”

In the midst of rearranging another Snoopy, he gasped, “WHAT?! He is too real!! Better not let him hear you say that!” 

A haunted trail veered off into the woods surrounding the mansion. It led to an old barn, stocked full of hay and populated with jack-o-lanterns. All carved by the mutant kiddos themselves. Another set of glittering lights decorated the barn, creating an autumn glow. A pair of giant speakers - Peter paid for them, mind you - roared Halloween tunes over the entire property.

Cool stuff. Talk about a hell of a set-up. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of himself. Such a slew of decorations might put even Scrooge Mcduck himself in holiday spirits.

Wait. No. What? Scrooge Mcduck? Wasn’t he more of a Christmas thing? Fuck. Peter might be more mixed up than he thought. He gazed absentmindedly into his red solo cup again. Blinking slowly, he wondered…what the hell did Hank put in this disco concoction anyway?

Whatever. By the end of the night, Peter hoped the kids got a kick out of his hard work. Not that he broke a sweat putting it all together or anything. But he wanted to live up to his awesome teacher reputation. The highest of honors, really. No way he’d let anyone else trump him on that front.

Then again… Peter nibbled his lip, grinning to himself like a huge doofus. He took another long swig of his drink. Candy corn sweetness tickled his taste buds.

Okay. So, he might’ve had someone else in mind while he decorated. Somebody he desperately wanted to impress. A lot. Or, just a little bit, actually. Like, on a microscopic level. Maybe.

That somebody? You. Except, not really. No way.

Pffffttt…he definitely didn’t do it for you. C’mon! Why would he? Think of the kids! Those precious, lil demon spawn! They practically worshiped him. They’re what it’s all about, right? Riiiight.

Peter’s holiday decorations tempted any passing trick-or-treaters to drop by. And the professor prepared quite the spectacle of treats for them too. King sized, candy bars and all. Hank and Raven - showing off their mutant glory without an ounce of shame - passed the candy out to children. 

Human children.

Magneto - still unaware he had a son sprinting around the mansion on any given day - dubbed the gesture hopeless naivety. Or something along those lines. Inviting humans to join in on a night of mutant fun? Totally bogus. Which…yeah. From Erik’s perspective? Fair enough.

“You think they’ll learn to accept you through meaningless, holiday gestures?” Erik griped, arms crossed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raven merely rolled her eyes. She made a comment about the inherent innocence of children. Erik didn’t appear to care. He groused some more after that. But Peter didn’t hear much of it. Nor did he imagine he even wanted to. At least, not tonight. Maybe once Peter sobered up a bit, he wouldn’t mind lending an ear. If his father ever felt the need to open up about his woeful turmoil.

But Erik disappeared upstairs. Out of sight. Still in hiding, all alone. Poor dude.

Unlike his misguided papa, Peter didn’t mind human inclusion so much. One: because he considered himself a pretty open minded guy. Easy to say, since he didn’t harbor anything remotely comparable to his father’s trauma. 

And two, on a less serious note: Human girls. They gravitated towards Peter like moths to a flame.

Throughout the mansion, the theme to Killer Klowns from Outer Space rang. Conversations buzzed around Peter like radio static. Candy corn booze made it impossible for him to comprehend them. Some partygoers played wallflower. Idling by snack tables, feasting on as much junk food as their stomachs could handle. It took every ounce of restraint Peter had, not to raid those tables himself.

Peter’s Terminator costume wasn’t much of a costume at all, really. It left most of the ladies confused. He didn’t recognize half the costumed cuties who pulled him in for dances. But they sure as hell recognized him. When another pretty girl pressed herself against him - tits bouncing, and bare thighs rubbing his pants - she’d ask the dreaded words, “What’re youuuu supposed to be?” Twirling her hair and giving Peter fluttery bedroom eyes.

Peter gave the same responses every time. Covered head to toe in black clothing, wearing a pair of sunglasses; he raised a prop shotgun from his back, responding with his best Arnold impression.

“I’ll be back.” Right on the money, Peter thought in his buzzed haze. Totally accurate. One to one.

If the girlies didn’t get the reference? So be it. Peter ultimately felt like a massive dork. But he got some sexually charged groovin’ out of it. A bit of groping here or there. He didn’t mind taking the L, if it meant grabbing some ass in the process.

But as the party clamored on, Peter knew he wanted only one thing.

To find you. Just to hang out, catch up, and have an innocent time. No other reason. Seriously. Honest. Why else would he wanna find you? To mess around a little bit? Nahhh. Why would he wanna fool around with you? And risk a long term friendship? He couldn't have that.

Not when you carried enough patience to put up with his day-to-day bullshit. Always listening to his senseless ramblings. Even if he spoke too fast for you to keep up.

During his lunch breaks on school days, Peter usually spent time with you. The two of you talked in the kitchen, or chillaxed in the lounge. Those chats? The highlight of his day. As corny as it seemed. He just couldn’t resist you and your kindly wiles. The wiles of his colleague. His…very pretty colleague. His…very pretty… platonic colleague.

Someone please end his misery now.

Peter wandered aimlessly. He danced his heart out and chatted up some more cute gals. Soon enough, he found you. Leaned over a set of snack tables, you picked through sugary sweet treats. Peter noticed the way you swayed in place. A little heavy footed like him, eh? He snickered to himself, sneaking up behind you. 

Lacking any filter or restraint, Peter blatantly gawked at your ass. A fitted, white gown draped your body. Flowing in an angelic fashion, it harmonized with your every curve. Even tipsy, Peter recognized your costume the microsecond he saw it. Princess Leia. Star Wars. Episode IV. Very sexy. Beyond sexy, even.

A flirtatious whistle caught you by surprise. You whirled around with a doe eyed look on your face. A kind of gaze that made his brain turn to mush. As if the alcohol hadn’t already. You licked the frosting off a funky colored cupcake, as Peter’s gaze flitted down your body. His eyes followed the smooth creases of your gown. A tasteful peek of your thigh kept his attention locked. Until the perky tease of your nipples captivated him instead.

Awesome. Amazing. 11/10. Best night ever.

“Ohmygosh!” You laughed, reaching out to touch Peter’s chest for whatever reason. Not that he minded one bit, “Peeeter, I’m sooooo sorry! I’m a little tipsy right now! It’s really unprofessional!”

Scarlet bloomed in his cheeks, burning hot enough to make him dizzier. Peter ogled you like the last Twinkie on the planet. A dollop of frosting caught the plush of your lip. You swirled it away with your tongue. Drawing in a hitched breath, Peter blinked.

Focus. He needed to focus on anything else. Not the parts of you he wanted to be on, inside of, and all other configurations of carnality.

“And?? You wanna hear somethin’ cray-crayyy?” Peter asked, lamely slurring his words. He raised his red solo cup, waving it in a clumsy motion, “So am I, princess! I’m totally hammered. And I looooove it!” He threw his head back, belting a loud, “WHOOOOO!!” Feeling more like a free spirit than he had in years.

Moving closer, you couldn't control your laughs. You shushed Peter, keeping your hand on his chest. Patting you on the shoulder, Peter chuckled. He feigned offense, but his sizeable hand lingered on you. A thumb grazed the soft cloth of your dress. For a beat, he wondered what you looked like under it.

“Whyyyy?? Why should I keep it down, huh?? It’s a party, baby! Everybody’s yellin’!” He shrugged. Peter smirked, throwing his head back again. He shouted another, “WHOOOOO!!”

A crowd of partygoers kept their eyes on the two of you. Their gazes lingering for a little longer than necessary. You snickered again. So tipsy, you could hardly get a word in through your giggling.

“You really are drunk, oh my gosh. You’re crazy, Peter! I can’t even-” Dropping your head into his chest, you erupted in woozy huffs of laughter. Great. He loved the closeness, “Peter, sorry, I’m sooooooo-”

“Mind-blowingly hot?” Peter lazily blinked, “Because yer-...you-ohhhh, man. You look really hot. Like-” He made a meaningless gesture with his hands, shaking his head, “Like, WOW! Have you seen yourself? Someone tell ‘Ro to make it rain. ‘Cuz yer on fiiiiiiire!” He joked. Cheesy and lame, but too smashed to even care.

You scoffed, cheeks set ablaze, “Oh, please! Give me a break! Mister Terminator casanova over here. Are you trying to butter me up like you did all those other ladies?” Playfully, you pushed off his chest. Peter mourned the loss of your touch, “I saw you! Getting all handsy out there!” You said, your tone lighthearted. Still accusatory.

Somehow, you recognized his costume. That caught him a little off guard. Peter’s heart did some kinda funny, fluttery thing. Jumpy, warm, and beating beating beating in his chest. But…nah. Couldn’t be because of you. Could it? Maybe the booze did it. Yeah. Irradiated Beast hooch must’ve give him palpitations. He’d tell Hank about this side effect later.

Peter arched a silver brow, “Oh, yeah? Mmmhm. Sounds like yer just jealous. ‘Cuz the ladies find my inner Schwarzenegger, action hero totally irresistible.” Bullshit. Most of them thought he dressed as Neo from the Matrix. Wrong action movie. Peter kept talking out his ass, “I bet it drives you up a wall to see ‘em all over me like that.”

“Oh, you think? Suuure. Like Leia would ever have the hots for some dollar store Terminator.” You teased affectionately, “Likely story, Quickie.” Fuck. Quickie. He loved when you called him that. You deceived your own protests, pressing your body against Peter's.

Your nails dug into his shirt as you palmed his chest. So…you wanted to play this little game now, huh? Alright. Fine. Peter bickered back and forth with you for an indiscernible amount of time. Standing in a corner by the snack tables, away from the noisy, party bustle. Unbalanced and wobbly, Peter leaned in. Keeping you both pressed together in a way too intimate for wandering eyes.

He almost spilled his neon concoction on your dress. Exchanging giggles again, Peter lingered even closer. His lips on the cusp of reaching out for yours. But in a clouded moment of self awareness, he stopped himself short.

“D-Do you…uhhhh-” He swallowed dryly. His nerves buzzed all through his body, “Y’wanna…get outta here? Maybe go do somethin’ reallllyyyy dumb? Like-uh…maybe make a mistake you’ll regret in the morning?” Peter suggested, wiggling his brows.

You gave him another lidded look, igniting a blistering fire deep in his bones. With your body still pressed to his - bodacious and oh-so-tempting - you brought a hand up. A beat of silence passed, as you moved his sunglasses up over his hair. Silver strands fell loose. You gazed into his puppy dog eyes directly. 

“And what makes you think I’d regret it?” You asked, your voice smooth and somewhat slurred. Oh...were you being real with him right now?

Your fingers traced flirty circles over his chest. Scorching flames in Peter’s heart burned warmth through his veins. Heat gathered in his groin. Peter’s eyes widened to a planetary degree. Clutching his solo cup a little too tight, he brushed your ass with his other hand. By accident. He only intended to pull you closer. You held his intoxicated gaze. 

Peter let his lips ghost yours again, without any direct connection.

“See, that’s-uhhh…hah…that’s just the booze talkin’.” He whispered with a soft chuckle. Steadily, he pulled himself from you, “Wanna know what it’s tellin’ me?” Peter gave you another lazy grin, nibbling his lip, “Youuuuuu and meee…” He sluggishly said. He dragged you along with him. Stumbling backwards, “...should-uh…gooooo have some…adult fun, yeah? A little romp in the hay?”

Did you know he meant that verbatim? Probably not.

Moments later, Peter clumsily navigated through the party. He made a beeline for the entrance hall, holding your hand the entire way. Floundering with every step, he traversed the crowded halls. Through each doorway the two of you passed, fluttering streamers dangled above. Soft tissue brushed across your face, tickling your nose.

The streamers proved more unkind to Peter. Staggering through the last doorway, he became tangled in them. Peter tried to shake the tissue off, twisting around and flailing his arms. He cursed aloud, making a spectacle of his embarrassing predicament. Caught in a web of orange and black, he looked like a Halloween decoration all his own. The streamers wrapped around his body and arms, even covering his head.

“MOTHER FU-” He cursed, jerking the tissue down with a rough tug. Peter tripped forward in the process. But he caught himself just in time. Compensating for his humiliation, he laughed, “I’m okay! I’m okay! Allllll good, guys. I’m good. Totally good! Meant to do that, actually.” Peter cleared his throat. He averted his glassy gaze from any partygoers nearby.

One of them being Hank, who stood alongside Raven. The two shared a few drinks and quietly chatted. The big, beast of man wore torn, red flannel. His blue fur peeked out from the undone buttons, appearing frayed. His costume? A smurf werewolf. A smurfwolf. Or something. Peter couldn't tell. And Raven? She hadn’t dressed up at all. Labeling Halloween: The one time of year she chose not to disguise herself. Why? Because, in her words, "It's funnier that way."

Raven stifled a laugh at Peter’s expense. But Hank didn’t hold himself back. He roared a rumbling chuckle, “I see the serum’s treating you well, Peter!” Hank teased, cradling a drink in his fluffy paw, “Why, it certainly looks that way. You seem to be having-uhm…fun? Yes! Fun. I'm delighted to see it!"

Peter idled in the middle of the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. Forgoing the streamers, he left them tangled around his limbs. Fuck it. His costume could use some added flair.

“I’m havin’ a-uhhhhh…a total blast, Beast my mannn!” Peter slurred. He passed Hank on his way out the mansion’s entrance. And roughly patted the scientist on the shoulder, “Thanks again, buddy ol’ pal! I owe you one!”

You giggled, beaming an elated smile as Peter dragged you out the door. Once you flew ungracefully by, Hank and Raven both did double takes. They gave you cautious looks, as if to say - uh, do you think this is a good idea? A little too sloshed, you failed to register their concern. Following Peter out the door with an inelegant skip in your step, you waved the pair goodbye.

“Well, now…that’s certainly going to be awkward for him tomorrow morning.” Hank joked, looking down at his drink. He swirled the beverage, the cup appearing itty bitty in his clutch. Showing off a crowd of snaggle teeth, he yawned.

Raven shook her head, scoffing, “Oh, it’ll bite him in the ass later. That’s for sure.” She added, sipping her own drink, “You proud of yourself?” Raven quipped, arching an orange brow. Hank held up a single claw, playful in his self defense.

“Not my fault! I gave him that serum because I thought he could have fun with it! And he is! Didn’t you see him? What he does under its influence is completely out of my jurisdiction!” Hank shrugged, stating in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ll have you know, I did try to warn him!”

In hindsight, Peter should have heeded Hank’s warnings. What he did under the effects of disco liquor proved supremely stupid. The nanosecond your feet hit the grass outside, he lost any restraint he had left. Peter kissed you full on. Ushering your sweet lips into an alcohol induced session of heavy smooching. Tongues interweaving, lackadaisical and reckless, the two of you shared careless kisses. Under decorative spider webs and amongst inflatable Snoopys.

But no Great Pumpkin in sight.

You slung your arms over Peter’s broad shoulders, letting him devour you. His sizable hands slid over your hips. He pulled you closer as he stumbled like a complete klutz. Thick fingers curled into the cloth of your dress. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Peter didn’t dare consider any consequences. With no filter to hold him back, one of his palms felt for your breast. He copped a handful, before you stopped him in his tracks. You tore your lips from his candy corn kisses.

“Heyyyy! Hey, hey, hey! Not here! What are you even doing??” You laughed, giving his nose an affectionate nuzzle, “Someone might see us, doofus!”

Peter hummed, pulling you against him in a more firm grip. He stole frantic kisses, heated and mouthy. Squeezing your hips, his nails scratched across your gown to your ass. Kneading your plush cheeks with little shame.

“So what? Let ‘em enjoy the show!” Peter snickered, diving in for yet another kiss, “I’m not gonna miss out on a chance to touch you like this. Now that I finally got you…”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t seem to take him seriously. In an attempt to pull yourself away again, you stumbled backwards in the grass. Even with his reaction time outta wack, Peter managed to catch you before you fell. In one awkward motion, he scooped you up bridal style and carried you into the woods. The streamers coiled around his limbs came loose, at long last. Flitting away behind him in the wind.

He held you in his strong arms, following the mansion’s haunted, Halloween trail. The hayride already closed down for the night, leaving the trail - and the barn - open for some private necking.

Finding his way to the barn, Peter wobbled, slowing his stride. In his arms, you took a moment to admire the decorations he put so much effort into. Orange, twinkling lights lined the barn’s entryway. Vibrant in late night darkness. Magical, and kinda romantic. Through the trees in the distance, the garnished mansion appeared visible. A Halloweeny spectacle, engulfed in simulated fog.

Party music echoed from afar, faint, but clear enough he could hear. Peter perked up, overhearing a classic, Hallow’s eve tune.

“‘CUZ THIS IS THRILLLAHHHH!” Peter shouted off key, moving backwards into the barn. His steps were careless, “THRILLAH NIIIIGHT!” He sang, falling into a bed of cool hay. Strands of straw bounced in the air. You came down with him, and he kept singing, “AND NO ONE’S GONNA SAVE YA-” He cut himself off, leaning in to feast on your lips. Peter cradled you in his arms, humming Thriller amidst awkward kisses.

You laid bridal style over his legs, dipping your head back. Inviting Peter to devour your neck like a thirsty vampire. Without all the grace of Bela Lugosi. More like a hammered Nosferatu. If either of you had second thoughts, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. He left that baggage behind. In the morning, sober Peter could unpack it all. Right now, he wanted his hands on your body, under your dress.

“Ohhhh~! Oh my-” You moaned, tacking on an erotic squeal of his name. Giggling in a kittenish tone. The sound made him wanna bite you harder, “W-Wait-...Peter, maybe we shouldn’t-oooooh~! Maybe we shouldn’t be-”

His sloppy kisses cut your hesitance short. Peter nodded his head in a lazy, loose motion. Bringing more dizziness upon himself.

“Mmmm? What? No-...” He hummed, “Baby, we should. We definitely should. Don’t even worry-” Peter paused for an abrupt beat. Holding you tight, he adjusted in the hay. Uncomfortable, Peter knitted his brows, “Wait-...this hay’s so-...why’s this hay so fuckin’ itchy, man?”

At the chime of your silly snorts and giggles, Peter’s words became lost on him. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t think clearly enough to recall them. Instead, he drew his attention back to you. Peter’s lips found your neck once more. Your floral scent replenished his lungs, a lifesource he desperately needed. Hot kisses peppered down your chest. In his clouded stupor, Peter buried his face between your breasts.

He loved the flustered squeal you made in response. Enough that he couldn’t help but do it again.

“Ohhhhh…hot damn, baby.” Peter groaned into your chest, motorboating your knockers. A graceless gesture. Lifting his face, his hair appeared a disheveled mess, “Yer so awesome, y’know that? Liiiike…yer really great. I know I’m pretty drunk right now, but-uhhhh…” He slurred, sneaking thick fingers under your dress, “I do mean it. No joke. I think yer really cool. Cool and-uhm…and-uh…hahaaa….I really like you.”

You erupted in more buzzed giggles, parting your lips to protest his drunken confession. But Peter silenced you with shushes, “Shhhhhhhh! Shhhhh, don’t-” He hiccuped. Your laughs were so contagious, he couldn’t help but giggle as well, “Shhhh! Don’t tell anybody!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” You chuckled, gently holding his cheeks. You pulled him down for more smooches, lips meeting in a slower embrace, “I like you too, Peter…but shhhhhh…keep it a secret.”

His fingertips danced along your inner thigh, clumsy and unsteady. Peter’s hand disappeared between your legs and under your gown. Hot digits grazed your panties. A flimsy, soaked piece of fabric awaited those digits. Breathing a low huff, Peter whispered, “Fuck.” into your neck. The steamy word tickled your skin, giving you chills.

Blindly, he wormed his fingers into your panties. Peter dipped his digits into your honeyed heat. Thick, syrupy cushions sealed around him. He focused on parting your tight walls. A little too uncoordinated to pleasure you in a more ideal way. Rough, repetitive motions curled at an awkward angle. Digging so deep, Peter could hear the squishy call of your insides - leaking wet, all for him. 

Your body tensed, knees spreading on instinct. Cool air caressed your thighs. Peering down into your lidded, baby doll eyes, he held your gaze. As your cunt pulsed around his digits, soft and constricting, he knitted his brows. Humming another groan, Peter dove down for your neck. He sucked mouthy, wet hickies into your skin. Leaving gifts for sober you to discover later tomorrow.

Speaking of sober.

Sober Peter never had trouble keeping up with anybody. Moreover, everyone else found it impossible to keep up with him. But in his buzzed daze, he could barely follow your lead. One blink, and his fingers buried themselves to the knuckle in your cunt. The next blink, you took initiative. Throwing him for a loop, you changed positions. You pushed Peter further back into the hay, straddling his lap.

As you fumbled for his jeans and pulled them open, more giggling ensued. Heated tension hung over the two of you like those glimmering, barn lights. You felt around, guiding your hand to a hot thickness in his pants. It rested in a curly bed of silver hairs, limp and untouched. Your giggles ceased, and your expression shifted.

“Peter, you’re not even-” You started, squeezing the softness of him in your hand. You gave him a few loose tugs, your voice teeming with hesitance, “Are you…are you sure you want-”

“Yeaaaahhhhh. Yeah. Yanno, it’s just-...I never thought I’d be the one gettin’ whiskey dick. Haha.” Peter joked, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Buzzed and uncoordinated, Peter harbored little patience for foreplay. His fingers sought for your weeping heat again. He pushed them through your soft, supple pussy lips, “Sucks a lot. I was really hopin’ I’d get to-uhmmm…ahahaaaa…” He bit his tongue, laughing, “Really wanted to show you a good fuckin’ time. But this shit feels like rocket science right now, sorry…”

Eventually, through sheer determination, you worked up enough sorcery to liven him up. Waking his cock from its soft slumber. Peter fumbled, clumsily guiding his dick to your flowery mound. It took some serious concentration on his part to do so. His tongue poked between his lips, brows furrowed tight. He leered between your sweltering bodies. Humid air clung to his skin, contrasting the sharp coolness of an October’s night. The smell of booze permeated in your sweat, mingling with the scent of your perfume. 

You sank over his cock, taking the now raging length of him fluidly. He bottomed out in a single intake of breath. Peter moaned, rolling his hips upward. Your fluttery walls stretched, cozy and soft around his dick. He dropped his head back into the hay, howling a goofy shout. It echoed through the trees, catching autumn wind.

"OHHHHHHH~! THAT'S IT! WHOOOOOO~!" He yelled. Peter chewed his lip hard, meeting your bounces with sluggish thrusts, "That's it. That's what I'm fuckin' talkin' about. Hoh-fuck..."

His rhythm was a little off beat, but he blamed the booze. Clenching the fabric of your dress in his fingers, he bunched it up tight. As if to hold you by horse’s reins, arduously guiding you on your ride.

Far in the back of his mind. Like, so far, Peter may as well have been on another planet. He had his first conflicting thought. Screwing you for the first time like this - hammered and careless - struck him as kind of…wrong. Really, he should have waited it out, and done this sober. But Peter couldn’t deny himself either.

"Peter, ohhh~! Feels really good~!" Your squeals of erotic, but sluggish pleasure sounded too much like music. Now cemented as one of his all time favorite songs, "Sooo good, I-aaahhh~!"

The bubbly feeling brought upon by Beast liquor made his body burn with ecstasy. His cock throbbed inside you, loving the tight embrace of your walls. Pleasure burned to an incomprehensible level of intensity. 

Even your dress felt unreasonably soft on his skin. Peter moaned again, drilling your cunt in unsteady surges of carnal bliss. He breathed thickly, the air between the two of you now sweltering. Choking on air, he kept his slow pace. His cock dug tunnels through your walls at a slacking speed. Completely unnatural for him. But overflowing with intoxication, he thrived in it.

“N-Not gonna-” Peter laughed. His voice a rough, breathless mess of incoherency. Sticky heat flushed his cheeks, and his tone wavered, “‘M not-...god…not gonna last. Fuck. Oh my fucking-” He swallowed another groan, suffocating on it. Peter’s hips rolled, their movement leisurely, “Sooooo tight. Feels like yer tryna-...like yer gonna-...aaaahaaaaafuck.”

Playing with your pearly clit, you squealed. The swollen nub burned, tingling as you circled it. With difficulty focusing, Peter brought his head up. He watched your little fingers while you pleasured yourself. His lidded, dark eyes stared, so spacy, so clouded. A growl caught in the back of his throat. You toyed with yourself a little longer, spreading glossy slickness under your fingers.

Your whines stayed at a respectable volume. Quiet enough, no one outside the barn could hear. But Peter refused to keep his enthusiastic voice down. He dug his big hands into your hips, fingernails clenching your dress. Scratching rough lines into the white cloth.

"Fuck, you gonna-...you gonna keep touchin' yourself like that? Gonna cum for me?" His words slurred. Peter used his immeasurable strength to hold you in place. Stuffing his cock through your pussy’s luscious, spongy grip. He fucked you in lethargic, but needy ruts, "P-Please-ohmygod-...please cum for me, baby. Lemme hear it, please?"

"Noooo~! Pe-ahhhh~! Peter, I cannnn't! Someone might-...Peter I can't-" You whimpered. Swirling your clit, you pushed yourself even further towards climax. A delightful, oncoming wave of scorching pleasure surged in your body. Sizzling through your veins, "OH, FUCK, QUICKIE~!" A sharp squeal bounced from your throat, as Peter surprised you.

"FUCK!! Yeah? You sound so fuckin'-Ah-...Yer so fuckin' good for me. Don't hold back, baby. Wanna-ohhhh~! Wanna hear you scream. Don't you fuckin' hold back-" Moving suddenly fast, he slammed his cock in deeper. His cherry red dick shattered your poor cervix. Burying himself to the brim, he slapped your mound hard with sharp pounds of his pelvis, "Mmmmmmfucking-...gonna fuckin'....aaaahhaha..."

Peter’s body tensed. His heels scuffed along the ground, crushing hay under his boots as he braced his feet. More loose strands tickled his skin where his shirt bunched up. Making him itchy again. But his intoxicated rutting never dwindled. He whined again, his voice cracking. Ruthless, quickening grinds of his cock knocked you hard. Sending you straight into a dimension of overwhelming, euphoric pleasure.

As tremors hummed across your sweaty skin, bliss ruptured deep in your core. At that moment, Peter forgot to consider any further risks. He burst with a hot, white pop of gluey heat. Rocking your sore cunt in sloppy, shallow thrusts. Peter soaked his dick in your sweet, inebriated love. The scent of booze and sex simmered in his nostrils. Lifting his hips, he met you in one or two more reckless, offbeat bounces.

Barely conscious of reality, Peter panted. Lying with you in a clumsy heap, he shared lazy kisses and steamy breaths with you. Had he been anymore sober, Peter would’ve rushed you off to the nearest bathroom. In dire need of a minute’s recovery, he laid there. Splayed out, Peter’s limbs rested loose and flimsy. The seconds passed, and he sobered up quickly. Post-orgasmic haziness began to clear.

You snuggled up next to him, grazing his cheek with your nose. The scent of alcohol lingered on your breath. Remind Peter that, unlike him, you were probably still a little drunk.

“You okay?” You asked out of the blue, tickling his neck with a giggle, “What are you thinking about? You’re not second guessing yourself already, are you?” Your fingers toyed with the zipper of his jacket. Which he gave you to wear in the cold, shortly after fucking you senseless.

In the distance, the faint roar of the party continued on. Rustling from inside the mansion and seemingly endless. Peter stayed silent, before snickering. He turned his head to the side, returning your nuzzles with a kiss. His lips met your hair. The smell of your conditioner made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

“Nothin’. It’s not-” He shrugged, turning his head again. Peter stared up at the glittering string lights hanging in the barn. His coffee bean eyes jumped from twinkle to twinkle, “It’s not super important. Kinda weird to be thinkin’ about it after-uh…” His voice trailed off again. Peter cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush, “Seriously, no big deal.”

You rolled onto your back, watching the lights sway in a cool breeze, “You sure?” You laughed, humming an, “Uh ohhh!” Before you continued, “Did somebody sober up and realize he made a dumb mistake? Hehe…” You teased, though he could hear the sliver of hesitance in your tone. A beat of silence passed, and you hugged his jacket closer.

“Regret wh-...huh? Nahhh, baby. You kiddin’? That was awesome.” He snickered awkwardly. Peter brought his hands to his face. He sighed, “I-uh…I was just thinkin’ about how…I could be spendin’ this holiday with my dad. I mean, shit…maybe he wouldn’t wanna spend it with me, but-”

He assumed you might take offense to this. Wouldn't it come off as a little inconsiderate? To think about his dad right now. After such an intimate moment between the two of you. But being the understanding person you were, you rolled over to face him. Drawing gentle lines into his shirt, you snuggled up close to him again.

“Is that where you wanna be right now? With your dad?” You asked, your tone gentle.

Peter swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A pounding headache swarmed him from nowhere. The repercussions of Beast hooch. Hopefully, such ailments would pass just as quickly as he sobered up.

“I-...yeah? I guess? But…it’s not like I can just-...like, I can’t go see him. Since he still doesn’t know about me, y’know? It’d be weird if I just showed up on Halloween. Like, hey, man, wanna hang out? Goddammit.” Peter shook his head, sitting up fully in the hay. Straw-like strands stuck to his clothes. He brushed them away.

“Well…hey, I got an idea, yeah?” You tried to follow his lead, sitting upward. Swaying a little as you did, Peter could tell you were still on the edge of tipsy. You giggled, “Let’s go inside. And I’ll…try to get everyone together for a movie. Maybe a horror? And you can run off! Go find him. Use the movie as an excuse. Offer him the opportunity to come down and watch. Sound good?”

It didn’t. Erik wasn’t the type to indulge in such activities. Still, Peter smiled fondly at your consideration. Nodding, he stood to his feet in a flash. You blinked, finding yourself lying bridal style in his arms again. With a hand to his chin, you tilted his head down. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks…” He hummed, his half lidded eyes gazing down into yours, “I really did have…such an awesome time with you. I haven't done that kinda thing with anybody in a while. But lemme-uh…” Peter bashfully chuckled, “Lemme get you to a bathroom so you can clean up, 'kay? ”

After the surprisingly deep chat he shared with you, Peter rushed you off to a mansion bathroom. Leaning against a wall, he waited outside the door. As the party settled and people filed out into the streets, he became more nervous. The two of you spent the rest of the night together, by the other’s side. Treating each other as normally as you would any other day. Soon, you sobered up enough to gather the X-family for a late night movie.

Peter took your advice, despite expecting the worst. Zipping upstairs and all through the mansion, he searched for his estranged father. To Peter’s surprise, Erik caught him off guard with a yes. But before he made his way downstairs, Peter took a moment to chat with him. He asked Erik how he was doing, and what he’d been up to. Ever since he chose the mansion for a temporary hideout (an arrangement most everybody felt uncomfortable with).

Erik - for good reason - wasn’t the most emotionally open. He kept their conversation short, before dismissing Peter. They both caught up with everyone else in the living room. The X-family sat together with snacks and drinks, joined for a movie. Erik chose a spot next to Peter on one of the sofas. Something he hadn’t anticipated at all. Since he didn’t get much out of the guy too often, he felt he could settle for his company, at least.

Sitting at Peter's other side, you eventually passed out. You rested your head on his lap, and he raked his fingers through your hair. By the time the movie ended, everyone veered off for bed. At last, calling Hallow’s eve quits. But Erik remained. He spoke to Peter a little while longer. Chatting about nothing at all, and everything at once.

Come next morning, Peter stood tiredly in the mansion kitchen. It was an unreasonably cold Monday in November. Freezing weather seemed to hit Westchester out of nowhere. He held a mug full of coffee, milky white and loaded with enough sugar to send anyone else to the hospital. Scratching his head over a mess of silver hair, Peter yawned. Even though he had more important things to worry about, he couldn't stop thinking about last night. For several reasons.

The impromptu bonding time he spent with his father lingered in his mind. Even if said father didn’t know what their interactions meant to Peter. It happened all thanks to your tipsy encouragement. Peter knew, even sober, you would’ve pushed him to do the same. Because you cared about him that much. Always inspiring him to step out of his comfort zone.

Aside from the estranged dad stuff, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more…steamy moments the two of you shared. Intimate interactions he still hadn’t sat down and discussed with you. Peter didn't have a clue what that little fling meant to you. Or if it meant anything at all. Distracting himself, he focused his attention elsewhere. Like the Halloween decorations littered about the mansion. He planned to take them down today after classes.

You came padding downstairs and into the kitchen not even five minutes later.

“Gooooood morning!” You cheerily said, blinking your sleepy eyes. Groaning, you brought a hand to your head. Your fingers touched your temple, “You know what’s surprising? I actually don’t have that bad of a hangover!”

Peter’s heart did flips, and he felt his stomach tangle in knots. Humming into his coffee, he threw you a casual nod of his head. Play it cool, “Mmmm. That’s good, though, right?”

You headed straight for the cabinets, standing on your toes to reach the highest one. You flailed around for the near-empty tub of coffee grounds. He left it up there without any consideration for short, mansion inhabitants like you. Totally absent-minded. Peter almost felt thankful he did. As you reached, the itty bitty, sleep shorts you wore rose by a touch. The cheeks of your ass caught his eye. Your bottom appeared etched in faint scratches, painted with red splotches. Damn…what the hell did he do to you last night?

Sipping his coffee with a groggy look on his face, Peter grinned.

Man alive, he wanted to screw you sober. Doing it drunk really wasn’t enough. Quickly, he dismissed that thought. Filing it away in his scatterbrained memory for later.

“Did you talk to Erik last night?” You asked, pulling Peter from his not-so-safe-for-work thoughts. You stretched a little further up, really reaching for that tin tub of Folgers.

Peter blinked, “Sorry, what?”

“Erik. I asked if you talked to him last night? Because I kinda remember you two having a chat. But then again, I was pretty out of it!” Your shorts hugged the shape of your cunt as you stood on your toes. An ache stirred in his groin, but he shook it off. Holy shit. What were you trying to accomplish here?

Peter’s heart skipped twenty beats. Sifting through the disorganized cabinets in his brain, he retrieved his previous thought. Ah, yeah. Screwing you sober? Not a want, but a need at this point. Focus, Quickie. He needed to focus. Especially if you planned on talking about something as important as his father.

“Uhhhh…” He ran a hand through his messy locks, taking a moment to process his racing thoughts, “Yeah, we talked. Not a lot, though. I meant to say thanks for that, by the way. Since I didn’t get to last night…” Peter brought his mug to his lips, averting his gaze, “Really. Thanks a lot. Don’t think we woulda had that time together, if you hadn’t pushed me to ask him 'n stuff.”

Still struggling to reach for that tin, you sighed. Your heels hit the floor, as you lowered your arm and turned to meet Peter’s eyes. Your sweet voice brought him an unexpected feeling of comfort. 

“Hey, anytime, Peter! I know it’s been really hard for you. Seeing him around here lately. And you don’t need me to tell you the obvious. But-” You timidly gazed down at your toes, shrugging. Peter knew exactly what you were about to say, before you parted your lips to say it.

Something along the lines of: Maybe it’s finally time you told him the truth. Or whatever.

It was too early for this kinda deep, introspective talk. Peter didn’t give you the chance to continue. Setting aside his mug on a countertop, he appeared by your side in a fwip. The breeze from his abrupt movement tickled your cheeks. He reached into the cabinet for the tub of coffee grounds. Handing it off to you with a tired, hooded expression. He sluggishly grinned.

“We got class in, like, twenty minutes.” Peter interrupted, and you took the bait. Whether you knew of his intent to dissuade the previous conversation, he couldn’t tell.

“Oh! Yeah! Shit!” You slapped a hand over your forehead. Peter gazed down at you, admiring your early morning features, “I’m so screwed!” Not yet you’re not, “I totally forgot to put together a lesson plan! I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do today!” Well…you could always do him. Again.

Jeez. Dude. No. The hell’s wrong with him?? Be reasonable, guy! At least take your buddy out to dinner first. Which...yeah. Might be time to think about asking you on a real date.

“Yeahhh. I kinda forgot too. Had a bunch of other stuff on my mind, yanno?” Peter said, completely lethargic. He shrugged, “I’m so bad at my job, man.” He kept his eyes on you, as you threw together your own pot of coffee.

“Actually, that’s bullshit. And I think you know it too. You’re amazing at it. That’s why all the kids love you so much.” You replied. Smiling like you meant every word. Because you did. Man, why'd you have to be so freakin' sweet?

Early morning sunlight beamed through the windows. It bathed your hair and face in sparkling gold. Peter wanted to kick himself for swooning. He opted to change subjects.

“I gotta take these decorations down eventually.” He said, gesturing to the streamers hanging from the kitchen ceiling. For an instant, he remembered tangling himself in them last night, “I keep puttin’ it off. But it’s gotta happen sooner ‘er later.” Taking initiative, he reached up to tear some of them down. Balling them up in his hands.

“I could help you! If you need an extra hand!” You offered, innocently sipping your coffee. Peter took in the curl of your lips as you smiled. He cleared his throat, chuckling.

“Y’know you don’t have to, babe. It’ll literally only take me a second. I just gotta stop sittin’ on my ass.” Peter said. He tossed the balled streamers with a failed, Michael Jordan-style execution. They landed in a nearby trashcan, “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to put Christmas decorations up too. Might get started on 'em as soon as these ‘re down.” He smirked, “I’m thinkin’ I get everyone some seriously ugly sweaters. Even Mags, if he's still around by then. Oh, and I'll need more Snoopys. The crotch goblins love Snoopy.” Peter paused for a beat, his dark eyes drifting down your body. A subconscious instinct, “And-uhhhh…gonna need lots of tinsel…uh…”

Peter reached for his coffee mug. What was he talking about again?

“Oh? That all sounds nice!” You tilted your head to the side, flirtatiously grinning at Peter. As if you could tell how distracted he was by your body. Heat set aflame in his cheeks, as he glanced up into your eyes. Noticing the way they seemed to twinkle, “Think you’ll decorate the barn again too?” You asked, a flirtatious tease pouring through your tone.

He choked on his coffee mid-sip.

[prettyboypistol]

TF2 Mercs Reacting To You Accidentally Turning Them On! [x Male Listener] +18

Minors DNI this ain't for you.

Scout

You stretched lazily as your body relaxed into the couch. Unbeknownst to you, our shirt rode up and left your stomach exposed.

Scout watched the whole ordeal-heard the whole ordeal. The way you groaned in relief at the little pop in your back before you sighed in satisfaction.

No no no nonononononono he was not going to get turned on my another man- FUCK THAT

God DAMN it he felt his cock throb, he didn't know he could get that hard that fast.

Scout just randomly storms off in anger out of the room. You're very confused.

Medic

It was your check up appointment, and Medic had asked you to wait for a moment as he went to prep his equipment. You were one of the more sane mercs, so he assumed you would be fine.

What he came back to was you, somehow tied up in the leather straps of his vivisection table. You gave a sheepish smile and asked him for help. He couldn't help but stare for a moment.

The way you tugged against the restraints and called for him-

He clears his throat and buttons his lab coat down a tad further to hide his legs as he assists your escape. "Really, I can't leave you unattended too?"

Engi

You and Engi were in a tight spot during battle. A fully healed Heavy was on the prowl for the last surviving reds, and you two were barely hanging on.

You suddenly jump out and shoot the Heavy's back over and over as you shout at Engi to run.

Dell doesn't. He rushes by your side as you curse him out for being idiotic.

He didn't know the difference in the moment between deep respect and arousal, but he certainly figured it out later when he couldn't stop daydreaming about you. He avoid you for a little while after.

Pyro

You are sitting in their room late at night after another tea party.

Pyro looks away for what they swear was only a minute, only to find you cuddling a unicorn doll, fast asleep.

The way you looked so at peace fueled the ever-burning fire in Pyro.

They slept on the floor that night and refused to speak of it, however, you notice that they're never too far away from you from then on.

sniper

Sniper is out practicing his shots when you slam your arms on the side of his camper in a loud greeting. He misses.

He peeps his head over from his rooftop with a venomous glare, only to be met with eyes of pure, unadulterated joy and mischief.

God it's like there isn't a war happening. Sniper's mouth goes dry.

He invites you to hang out, seemingly more and more. The other mercs gossip about how strange it is to see Sniper touching another human being in a friendly manner.

Heavy

Heavy knows that you didn't mean to turn him on, it was an accident.

However, walking in on you showering would stay in his guilty mind forever.

Your skin looked so soft as the water glided over your scars from battle.

He quickly apologizes and shuts the door rather loudly. You notice that he is a lot more apologetic around you, but maybe it's just the awkwardness of seeing your ass :/

Spy

You're studying French in your room as Spy just so happens to be walking by.

You're on the phone, talking to your fluent friend. The way your tongue isn't used to the sounds is nearly enough to get him off there and then.

He wonders if he could help make your tongue more pliant in one-on one lessons.

Spy starts talking to you in only French, insisting that if you can't understand him, that's not his problem.

Demoman

You're shitfaced drunk at the local strip club.

Somehow, you manage to convince one of the strippers to let you swing on their pole for a little bit.

As you swerve and feel yourself up, you bite your lip at Demoman and giggle.

Demoman whoops and cheers for you, egging you on. When you're off the pole he's definitely more flirtatious.

Soldier

He catches you working out on the field. Pushups, to be specific.

The sun beats down on your dedication(and conveniently jacked arms) as you count your timing. Soldier loudly salutes you and joins in.

He misconstrues the sexual attraction as admiration- much like Engi, who later realizes that it might be something more when he can't stop thinking about you.

Especially late at night, when your grunts of effort plague him.

You suddenly have a workout buddy every morning.

[teagballs]

"how can i make it up to you?" | michael bluth x reader fluff

authors note: HEYYYY it's me again. another request whoop whoop: "a michael fic where the reader is sulky bc michael has been neglecting her and he makes it up?"

love this idea tysm for the request i hope i did it justice 👍

cw: a little angst the reader is lonely :( michael makes it up to them tho, gender neutral, pet names, short n sweet!!

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

Michael was a busy man. You knew this, of course you did. From the day you started dating he had been sending flowers as an apology for missing date night. Usually his absence was the result of having to stay late in the office, but he had always been quick to reschedule plans. He always wanted to spend as much time with you as his cramped schedule would allow. But lately he had fallen under his massive workload. You had hardly seen him, only when he left for work in the morning and finally returned late in the evening. This and really put a damper on your mood. It was the same day in day out, never seeing your boyfriend.

You groaned at the sight of your empty apartment. It was days like this - when your boss had been a nightmare, when customers were particularly demanding, when you wanted to relax - when you wished your boyfriend was home. You plopped yourself down on the sofa, shedding your shoes and jacket and curling up in a blanket. Exhausted from the day, you decided a nap was the best thing to do. You dozed off.

You eventually stirred once you heard the door open. 'Was that.. Michael?' You questioned to yourself in your dozed state. Michael set his briefcase and jacket on the counter, conscious not to make too much noise, assuming you were still asleep. You made a light groaning noise as you sat up. "Shit, sorry baby did I wake you?" He apologised. "Yeah but it's fine, suppose I'll just go to bed now." You replied, tone upset. You knew it wasn't Michael's fault that he had to work so late. You were sure he was trying his best to come home as soon as possible. But that thought alone didn't make the loneliness of being so separated from your boyfriend disappear. Michael noticed your dejection. He made his way over to you on the sofa, sitting down next to you. "Are you alright?" He questioned. "Yeah I'm OK." You quickly replied. "You don't have to lie Y/N, you're sulking, why?" Michael asked, but he knew the answer. He knew he had been far too focused on work, prioritises his job over his partner.

"It's just," you began, "you're never home. I get lonely," You admitted. Now you avoided looking at him, turning your head away, "I miss you." Michael felt the guilt well in his chest at the sound of your voice, small and sad. "I know darlin', I'm sorry it's just-," Michael stopped himself from giving the same explanation again. He knew you understood why he was away so often. "Hey look at me." Michael spoke softly. You turned your head to meet his gaze. He held you face with his strong hand, looking deep into your eyes. You could melt just from the way he looked at you. "I'm sorry I'm away so often. I hate it too. I wish I could be home with you instead," He spoke. "What can I do to make it up?" He gave you a goofy smile, an earnest smile that made your heart swell.

He had put you on the spot. What could he do? All you wanted right now was to spend some time wrapped in his arms. "Can you stay up a little tonight? Watch a movie, eat some takeout? "Is that all?" Michael teased. "..Cuddle..?" I mumbled. Michael chuckled, "Of course I can." He took your face in his hands and kissed you delicately, full of love.

Michael grabbed the blanket you had previously been wrapped up in and draped it over the pair of you. You shuffled close to him and he wrapped his arm around you. You leaned into his body. It felt like forever since you had been so intimate. Michael placed another gentle kiss on your head as you turned the TV on to watch whatever was on, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were spending quality time with the adoring man you loved so much.

[tapioca-puddingg]

Master Eraqus Ain't Shit

So I decided to wake up and choose violence today.

"Oh brother, this guy stinks!"

In Dark Road, we see that Eraqus has always had the same black and white mentality. He’s always believed that only light should exist, and that darkness should be destroyed. Even Xehanort, who was the same age as him, could understand that there needs to be a balance between light and darkness.

And even well into his old age, Eraqus never changed his mindset.

This line of thinking was so pervasive that it stopped him from making Terra a keyblade master. If Terra had never visibly manifested his darkness, it’s possible that both him and Aqua could’ve been made keyblade masters. Not that I’m blaming Terra or anything, I’m just sayin.

Xehanort told Terra in Radiant Garden that he could study under Eraqus for years, and yet he would never make him a master. I think he’s 100% right.

Both Terra and Aqua would end up internalizing this mindset in different ways:

Since he was on the receiving end of the darkness slander, Terra developed a deep insecurity. And some of the villains, especially Xehanort, were able to take advantage of him partially as a result of this insecurity and partially due to his own naivety. His journey was all about finding out how to control it, but bc he wasn’t properly mentored on how to do so, he failed.

Aqua took on this mentality along with Eraqus’s self-righteousness. She was about to prematurely attack or possibly even kill Lady Tremaine, Anastasia, and Drizella if she hadn’t been stopped by Fairy Godmother. And later on, I feel like this mentality contributed to her thinking differently of Terra. But then again, there was a lot of miscommunication between the three of them. And that miscommunication caused a rift in their friendship.

And with Ventus, when Eraqus learned that Xehanort was planning on using him to form the X-blade, his immediate response was to kill him. Albeit, with some remorse.

Like sir, that’s your friend. You decided to let him back into your life after he wrote that sorry ass apology letter to you. You invited him back into your home. That means he manipulated you too. If he’s the one that’s putting your kids in danger, you need to go after him, not Ventus.

Imagine for a second if Terra had arrived too late (or didn’t arrive at all) and Eraqus succeeded in killing Ventus. The amount of emotional damage that would’ve done to him and Aqua is unfathomable. He put both Ven and Terra in so much danger. Yes, in the end, he realized the atrocity that he almost committed, but it was too little too late. He was lucky that the best-case-scenario happened. Well, I guess the best-case-scenario would have been for all of them to survive and jump Xehanort, but it's better that the kids survived.

As a follow up to that, imagine if Terra lost the fight and was killed. Eraqus is a master keyblader after all, so he's no slouch in battle. He whooped my ass many times when I played it recently. But anyways, that could’ve been two bodies on Eraqus’ hands. He is so unfit to be a mentor to anyone.

SPOILERS for Dark Road: now given what Eraqus and Xehanort went thru in DR, it makes sense as to why he would have such an extreme response to darkness. The fact that darkness is what killed their classmates, and the fact that Xehanort had to put down Baldur himself when he got corrupted. That moment would change the both of them forever. And any child would be deeply traumatized in seeing their friends get murdered on by one. But it doesn’t excuse what he attempted to do. Again, he put the lives of two of his three students in danger.

As a rewrite for this scene, maybe he could’ve contacted Aqua and told her to come home immediately once he realized what was happening. Maybe go to Yen Sid’s tower and link up with Mickey, Donald and Goofy, and the six of them plan a coordinated jumping on Xehanort. Sometimes ppl need to be jumped, you know? Like “Hey, Xehanort has gone off the deep end. He nearly used Ven to try to form the X-blade. We need to stop him before he tries this again.”

EDIT: I did really enjoy the reunion scene in KH3. It was nice that the Wayfinder trio at least got to see him one last time.

And in his character file, Terra feels immense guilt and wants Eraqus's forgiveness. I can only imagine the amount of guilt one would feel after an experience like that. There was no way he could predict the consequence of being Xehanort's pawn for 10 years.

But as a childhood trauma survivor, I know as much as the next survivor that you don't owe your parents/parental figures forgiveness. They owe you. Eraqus should've been the one asking for Terra's forgiveness, not the other way around.

I think bc he's presented as one of the "good guys" some folks may have been quick to overlook some of his actions.

But then again, if he did everything perfectly, this wouldn’t be as interesting to talk about.

TDLR: Eraqus fucked around and found out

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[twilightmalachite]

Kanata Shinkai - Winter Seabed

Author: Suika

Characters: Kanata, Rei, Wataru

Translator: Mika Enstars

"It’ll be Christmas soon. See? There’s lights put up all around the city."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Saison Avenue

Kanata: (Whew, it’s “night” already…)

(I didn’t expect the photoshoot to go on for that long.)

(Uu… Once “winter” came, it became cold all at once.)

(And “winter” makes my skin so “dry”…)

(Chiaki told me to avoid “bathing” so that I don’t catch a “cold”.)

(But if I can’t “bathe”, then I’ll dry up for sure, you know?)

(I thought if there was a lot of snow collected, maybe I could “dive” in, but…)

(There doesn’t seem to be enough accumulated. What a pity.)

(…Then I guess I’ll just have to hurry back to the “Starmony Dorms” to take a “bath” there. Otherwise it’ll become unbearable.)

(I sure don’t do “well” in the “winter”…)

(…!! My feet are slipping, I can’t keep balance…)

Rei: Whoops! Got you just in time.

Kanata: Rei…? What are you doing here?

Rei: I thought you were approaching danger, Shinkai-kun, so I rushed over. I’m glad I made it in time.

Kanata: …Fufu, you sound like you’re a hero, Rei.

But, you shouldn’t lie, you know.

Rei: …Kukuku, the heroes here are you and the others, Shinkai-kun.

Why, it’s only just a coincidence I am here too. I had just finished filming and was on my way back.

That’s when I recognized someone familiar from behind, and was just about to call out to you.

Kanata: You’re also on your way back from work, huh, Rei?

Anyways, thank you for saving me. I probably would have fallen down if you hadn’t.

Rei: Mhm. I’m glad you’re not hurt, Shinkai-kun.

So you too are on your way back from work, huh? Good job on all your work so late.

Kanata: Yes. I feel I’ve been somewhat busy as of late. I didn’t expect “work” to go on until so late.

Rei: Hm. …Perhaps it’s because the year’s end is approaching. It’s about time for the home stretch.

It’ll be Christmas soon. See? There’s lights put up all around the city.

And once Christmas ends, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s will be upon us. A busy time of the year for us all. It truly is December. ♪

Kanata: You seem to be rather “chipper”, Rei. Is it because it is nighttime?

Rei: Of course, that is one of the reasons, but… Another reason is that I was able to run into you on the way back, Shinkai-kun.

It’s far more enjoyable to go back with a partner than alone.

Kanata: ……

Rei: Oh, right. Have you eaten yet, Shinkai-kun?

Shall we take the opportunity to go out for dinner before heading back?

Kanata: Hmm… Sorry to turn down your “offer”, but I’d like to turn in.

I am actually hungry, but I’d like to head back and take a “bath” as soon as possible.

Rei: Hm, gotcha. Let’s hurry back then, shall we?

Wataru: Oya, oya oya oya?

Kanata: That voice is…

Wataru: That’s right, it’s your Hibiki Wataru…☆

To think I would see two two in a place like this…It’s as if it was fate!

Rei: It is quite rare, isn't it? For the three of us to just meet by chance like this…

Are you returning from work as well, Hibiki-kun?

Wataru: Nay, I am on the way home from rehearsal with my theater company.

We were enthusiastically rehearsing ‘til late today as the performance date is nearing.

But perhaps that was guidance by the goddess of love, do you think so?

Wataru: Look at this. ☆ Behold! I’m so overjoyed to see you both that doves are coming out! ♪

Rei: Fufu. I understand how you feel, but there is still a lot of traffic at this hour. Make your magic tricks too flashy and you’ll stand out.

Kanata: I do love talking to you two. But could we do it while walking?

We will freeze if we talk to each other somewhere like this forever and ever.

Rei: Ohh, sorry about that, Shinkai-kun.

Wataru: Hmmm…

Kanata: Wataru? Is there a problem?

Wataru: Not at all! You are right, Kanata. My apologies for my actions!

…By the way, Kanata. Didn’t you say you were hungry earlier?

Kanata: Yes? I did, but…

Wataru: So you did! Now then, Kanata, please put your hands out!

Kanata: …Like this?

Wataru: Yes, perfect!

Aaand now, please do not take your eyes off them… One, Two, Amazing…☆

Kanata: …This is, taiyaki?[1]

Wataru: Yes, a gift to show my appreciation for the fate that brought us together tonight!

Rei: Your magic tricks are spectacular as ever, Hibiki-kun.

This is a cold dessert taiyaki too, not a hot one like most.

Shinkai-kun can eat it without worry, as he doesn’t like hot food.

Kanata: Can I really have it?

Wataru: Yes, do go ahead! Please, enjoy it to your heart's content! ♪

Kanata: I will do exactly that, then. *chomp chomp*…

Ufufu♪ The sweet “red bean paste” is being spread throughout my tired body~.

It’s very delicious. Thank you, Wataru.

Wataru: Fufufu♪ You finally laughed.

Kanata: ……?

Wataru: Now then, let us happily return to Starmony Dorms. Shall we all hold hands so we do not fall?

Rei: That’s right. While I’m not worried about myself, I am a tad worried about Shinkai-kun.

Kanata: Mmu, I was careless earlier. I won’t fall again.

Wataru: Do rest assured. If you are about to fall, I will be there without fail to catch you! ☆

Kanata: I told you, I won’t fall.

Rei: …Still, it is quite strange, isn’t it?

To think that even after graduating from Yumenosaki Academy, the three of us would still be heading to the same place together.

Wataru: Isn’t that right. While we were students, we would all go to Yumenosaki Academy in this very manner…

Back then, I wouldn’t have ever thought we’d be living under the same roof!

Life is full of twists and turns, isn’t it? What a wonderful thing it is! Amazing!

Rei: Life, huh… A lot has happened this year, looking back.

Kanata: But Rei, the year has not yet ended, has it?

Wataru: You’re exactly right, Kanata! There is still Christmas left!

Look, the shop over there appears to have a Christmas tree on display!

Kanata: You’re right. It’s sparkling and beautiful~.

Rei: Right… Beautiful is beautiful, but I do wish they’d refrain from decorating with holly.[2]

Kanata: (Strange. It’s as if the “town” began to shine once I ran into Rei and Wataru.)

(…I still don't do “well” in the “winter” as ever, but I feel it’s not so bad to see the “winter scenery” with someone else, either.)

Wataru: Is there something wrong, Kanata?

Kanata: …Ufufu, nothing at all~.

(quietly) Anyone would feel despondent if they were out alone in the dark “sea”.

[ ☆ ]

story directory

A Japanese fish-shaped pastry, often sold as street food. It’s typically filled with red bean baste, but can also be filled with custard, chocolate, and more. You can see it in Kanata’s bloomed here.

Holly is considered a holy plant that can be used to harm vampires.

[withlovewriting]

All I Ever Knew, Only You 1: Bye Bye, Benny

Chapter One.

You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal’, And you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels, Nothing ‘bout the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now, So you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal.

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything. 

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities, and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 4,983

Chapter Warnings: Strong language, alcohol abuse, child abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, typical season 1 mean-girl Steve and his little gang of assholes. An offensive term to specific religion, i guess. Also apologies, first chapters are awkward and just plot building but there ya go.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize... ‘wait a damn minute...’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Next Chapter

Masterlist

(art)

Chapter One: Bye Bye, Benny.

Your legs moved faster than ever before, calves crying out in pain as your lungs burned, feeling like you hadn’t taken a proper breath in forever. But you still continued to push forward, dodging the oncoming vehicle and pedestrians as best you could. A car slammed on their breaks, horn blaring through the bustling streets during the late evening causing you to wobble slightly, hands gripping the handle bars of your bike so tightly you were sure you’d be able to pull them off completely.

Once you had regained your balance, you held up a hand, a silent sorry to the passing car as the driver shouted obscenities that you didn’t have time to be offended by. Just as you passed the coroners office, a loud whoop, whoop sounded behind you, the red and blue lights lighting up the ever darkening evening.

Shit, you mumbled to yourself, head darting around to watch as the officer stuck his hand out of the window, flagging you down. Well, you were definitely going to be late now.

Stopping alongside the side walk, one dirty converse perched on the curb to balance yourself, you waited as he slowly approached you, taking his sweet time. Of course, it wouldn’t be Callahan, the man gullible enough that you could easily spin a tale and get yourself out of this quickly, or even officer Powell, the man much more commanding than the former yet still not as assertive — or nosy — as the man in the unsightly beige uniform that was walking towards you.

“Kid, do you know how recklessly you were riding?”

Tilting your head backwards, face scrunched up slightly, you tried to suppress the annoyance that was bound to seep through your voice, “Hop, listen-”

“You almost caused two separate road traffic accidents, and don’t even think I didn’t see you almost wipe out Mrs. Lloyd.”

“Hopper, I-”

“I should take this damn thing off you, throw it in the junk yard where it belongs. Looks like this piece of shit is falling apart.”

“Are you gonna give me a ticket? Because if you are, can we speed this thing along and maybe save the whole responsibility talk for next time.”

Raising a brow, Jim sent you an incredulous look, “Next time?”

Rolling your eyes, you finally released the pent up, frustrated sigh, “ You know what I mean.”

Mumbling under his breath, Jim took off his slightly off-color hat before gripping his leather belt, hands firm on his hips, “Look, kid. You’re on a bike, which means you’re not gonna win any fight you decide to pick that day with a car. You might not give a shit, but I could really do without the extra paperwork. So stop riding like you’ve just robbed a bank.”

Nodding along with the man, you hoped your silent agreement would make this exchange go by at least a little quicker.

“I’m giving you a verbal warning, alright? If I have even one more complaint about a delinquent teenage cyclist bowling over old ladies in the street, I’ll personally arrest you myself and make you fill out the complaints paperwork. Got it?”

“Got it, chief.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how boring his job must be — especially since moving back from New York — to even bother with a cycling non-incident.

“Now, grab you bike and throw it in the back, if you’re in such a rush my car will get you there a lot quicker than that rusted piece of junk.”

Doing as he said, you then joined him in the car, the man glaring at you until you remembered to buckle your seat belt. Eventually, he pulled away, and you directed him towards Oak street.

“So, hows your Mom doing?”

His comment was meant to come off as flippant, uninterested in your actual answer and just trying to fill the silence. But you’d had your fair share of interactions with Jim Hopper since he crawled back to Hawkins in 1979, as had your mother.

He’d vehemently deny it if he was ever asked, but Jim Hopper — in all of his gruff, cynical glory — had a soft underbelly. He didn’t care about much any more. Not his job, not himself, nor any family, but in the few months he’d had some kind of relationship with your mother, he had unwittingly taken on a role in your life that had been missing for so, so long. So, what did it matter if he checked in every now and then?

Shuffling uncomfortably, you peered out of the passenger window, hoping he wouldn’t push too hard, “She’s fine. Got a cold, at the moment, so…Can’t exactly make it into work right now.”

“You’re covering for her again? You really shouldn’t be out late, and especially not on a school night-”

“She’s not well, Hop. A lecture won’t pay the bills.”

Despite reading between the lines, Hopper shut his mouth, even for just a moment before changing the subject, “No car tonight?”

“Mom forgot to get gas after work last night.”

“I thought she was too ill to work.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you couldn’t have been more happy to see the shitty, run down bar you’d be spending the next couple of hours. Barely letting the man come to a full stop, you hopped out of the car before struggling to pull your bike out of the trunk without scuffing the police vehicle,

“Thanks for the ride, Hop.”

As if it took him a moment to realize you’d even exited the car, he quickly rolled down his window, “You’re not even old enough to be in there-”

It was safe to say your ride home from covering your mother’s shift wasn’t as fast paced, or exciting, as your previous journey.

You felt exhausted after a long day working at the arcade, revising for a stupid chemistry test that Mr. Kaminsky seemed determined to make half of the class fail, and then rushing like a mad man toward The Hideout, a long 6 hour shift bussing tables for old men who seemingly had boundary issues when it came to teenage girls. If it wasn’t for Thomas, the owner, you might’ve had another run in with the chief, certain you’d of stuck a fork through one of Mr Hanson’s wandering hands.

Turning down Morehead Street, you were almost relieved to be home. Almost.

All you wanted to do was shower off the smell of stale beer and greasy burgers and flop into bed. This wasn’t exactly how you’d wanted to spend your Sunday.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the lurking feeling of uneasiness crawled up your throat, the familiar, yet uncertain apprehension causing you to slow to a stop outside of the large, blue house that sat at the other end of your street. Hauntingly intimidating, the formidable house had sat abandoned since before you were even born. Children would often dare each other to play ding-dong-ditch, especially around Halloween, but nobody to your knowledge had actually made it much further than the path that led toward the rotten porch stairs. It had been boarded up since before you could remember, and nobody seemed all that bothered to disrupt it, the memories of what happened there more than two decades ago settled like the dust that was sure to line the floorboards inside.

Despite the desolate appearance in the daytime, the house only looked even more daunting in the shadows that lingered in the night, crawling their way over the house to leave it in almost total darkness.

Swallowing down the lump of uneasiness, you placed your foot back onto the pedal, ready to push off when you heard something. Your head swiveled back toward the large house, eyes wide and inquisitive, certain you’d heard voices.

Maybe the teenagers of Hawkins had finally become brave enough to step forth into the house, or maybe it was the ghosts of the slain family. Either way, you weren’t hanging around to find out, cycling home a little faster than before as you willed yourself to not peer back at the house for one last look, too worried about what, or who, you might find staring back.

Leaving your bike in the front yard — it was Hawkins, after all and the only thing more boring than the teenagers in this town, was the workload, or lack thereof, for the police — you quietly made your way up the creaky, half-rotten porch steps, all too aware of the television blaring so loudly from the living room that you could hear it from outside.

After taking a moment to prepare yourself, you finally pushed the door open, silently grumbling about how your mother always left it unlocked, regardless the time of day. Creeping toward the archway leading to the living room, you caught sight of your mother slumped on the sofa, eyes heavy from more than just sleep, but somehow still conscious. Stepping into the room, you called out for her, hoping she’d hear you over the loud laughter from whatever bullshit show she was half-watching.

“Mom?”

Her head turned, eyebrows raised as if she was surprised anyone had entered the house at all, before her glossed over eyes narrowed, pointing the empty bottle in her hand in your direction, “Where the hell have you been?”

It took everything in you not to release a frustrated sigh, telling her that you had in fact been covering her shift in order to guarantee you’d be able to keep the heating on this month. Winter in Indiana was a bitch and you were certain neither of you would survive another year without at least a mildly-warm house.

“I was working, Mom. C’mon, lets get you to bed-”

“Were you late? Cause you know they dock my wage by a whole hour if you’re even a fuckin’ minute late.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head, avoiding her eyes, “No, Mom. I wasn’t late. I-”

“Fuckin’ liar!” Standing, your mother wobbled on uncertain legs much like a newborn foal as she stumbled toward the telephone, where the answering machine blinked a devious, betraying red. Your mother almost looked too happy that she’d caught you in a lie as her clumsy pointer finger pushed hard at the button, playing the message out loud,

‘Rebecca, this is Thomas. You’re late for your shift, again. You better be on your way, I swear to god, this is the last fucking time. And you better not send your kid, again. I’m sick of it, Bec. So unless your face-down in your own vomit somewhere, you better be in work within the next 10 minutes, or- Oh, hey sweetheart-’

Bottle still in hand, your mother floundered toward you, nose scrunched in annoyance and distrust, as if you’d lied to her about something so much worse, like smashing up the car, or god forbid, pouring one of her beloved bottles down the kitchen sink.

Thankfully, by the time she reached you, she’d not only half forgotten what she was mad about, but wouldn’t be able to work out which one of you she saw to swing at. So instead, you took her gently by the shoulders, ushering her toward her bedroom. She collapsed onto her bed face-first and rather ungraciously her fingertips still gripping the empty bottle as if her life depended on it, and by the time you’d placed a throw blanket over her body, soft snores were already escaping her.

Despite your mother now being out cold, you still closed your bedroom door as quietly as possible, the fear that you’d manage to wake her up too ingrained in you to do anything but.

Keeping the light off, you sprawled out onto your own bed, deciding to forgo the shower and overflowing laundry basket that had been calling out to you most of the week.

Deciding to shower when you awoke in the morning, you didn’t have a choice but to drive your mother’s old Fiat Brava to school, knowing you’d be late otherwise.

Grumbling at yourself for not finding time to do the laundry, you dug deep into your drawers, trying to find something both suitable for school, knowing half of the clothes were creeping up on being too small for you. But money was sparse in your household, and an oversized jacket that you were yet to grow into had sufficed so far.

Pulling out a blue blouse that you absolutely knew was too small, meaning you would be pulling down the sleeves all day in an attempt to stop them ending up halfway up your forearm, you knew it would have to do. 

Leaving with barely enough time to fill up the coffee pot in hopes your mother would be drawn to the bitter smell rather than the temptation of the alcohol cupboard, you remained just under the speed limit, gnawing at your lip for the entirety of the drive.

School was dragging by, every minute feeling like an hour, and you knew clock-watching wouldn’t help, the gentle tick, tick, tick lulling you into a drowsy mess as you tried your best to keep your attention on your school work.

Making your way toward your locker, ready to dump half of your books out and enjoy your free period sleeping in the library, you saw Barb staring off down the hallway, her eyebrows pulled together as she watched Nancy turn the corner in a hurry.

“Everything OK?” You asked, causing her to jump slightly, head whipping toward you.

Relaxing as she realized it was you, she released an annoyed sigh, “It’s like he calls and she goes running. Literally.”

“You mean Harrington?”

“She’s still denying they’re even a thing.”

Your eyes remained in the direction of where Nancy had disappeared to, the hallways clearing out as people prepared for their next lesson, “Nancy’s a smart girl. She knows what he’s like.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Barb sighed, pushing her glasses to sit a little higher on the bridge of her nose, “He’s gonna use her, and dump her, and she’ll end up hurt. Just like every other girl he’s dated.”

“Dated is a very loose term,” you joked, Converse heel digging into the hard floor when Barb didn’t quite appreciate the joke, “He’ll get bored eventually, alright? He always does. But Nancy’s not an idiot. I highly doubt she really thinks he’s gonna be the love of her life, or even her date to prom if his reputation is anything to go by.”

When Barb remained silent, her top teeth worrying at her bottom lip you sighed, “Hey, if he hurts her, we can always key his car. Or set his hair on fire. God knows it’s got enough product in it to go up like a bonfire.”

That, at least, caused a smile to pull at Barb’s lips. Feeling satisfied that you’d at least kind of cheered the girl up, you left your friend with a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making your way down the long hallway.

Pushing the bathroom door open, you came to a halt almost right away, body colliding with the same person you’d just been shit talking for the last five minutes.

“Watch where you’re going-”

Scoffing at the boy, you pushed him away slightly, “This is the girl’s restroom, nimrod. You watch where you’re going.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve lent back against the wall slightly, hands grasped at his hips, “Nice shirt, but I think you’re shopping in the wrong age department of the Goodwill.”

“Says the person wearing a polo. Mommy pick it out at the GAP?”

Your stand off would’ve continued for much longer, had the second bell not have rung. Grabbing his yellow gym bag from the floor, he brushed past you with an annoyed glare, “It’s a vintage H R Robinson’s.”

God, he was such an ass.

Word about Will Byers’ disappearance had spread around town quicker than the time Mrs. Hunt’s husband had been caught balls deep in his receptionist at the local car dealership.

After returning home, your mother was nowhere to be found and to say you spent your night pacing around and doing absolutely anything to take your mind off the fact she was gone, was an understatement.

Your laundry was washed, dried and shoved back into your drawers, homework finished in record time and by 9pm you were certain you were a chemistry master. At least, you would’ve been, had any of the information stuck in your brain, instead using your notes as nothing more than a distraction.

So when the sound of shoes kicking up rocks and unsettling the gravel on your driveway roused you from your light sleep, you felt your heart finally settle back down to a normal speed as your mother carelessly stumbled down the path, slamming the front door shut behind her — still not learning to lock it — before making her way to her own bedroom.

Peering at your clock, the illuminating numbers spelled out 4am, causing you to release a long sigh before rolling over, hoping that you wouldn’t sleep through your alarm, less so for the fear of being late to school, and more-so for the fear of your mother’s hungover wrath if it woke her up instead.

Shoving a few books into your locker, you felt too mentally drained to even bother with the chemistry test, and if it didn’t count for half of your grade that semester, then you probably would’ve skipped.

The doors at the end of the corridor opened, the cool November wind slipping in behind a head of brown, scraggly hair, and you felt your heart plummet. Closing your locker, you heaved your half-empty messenger bag over your body and made your way towards the boy,

“Hey, Jonathan.”

The boy peered back at you, a strained smile on his face as he struggled holding everything in his hands and attempting to pin one of the papers to the board, “Oh, hey.”

Taking the papers from under his arm, you tried to send him a reassuring smile, “I, uh… I heard about Will. He’s a smart kid… He’ll be back soon, he’s probably just… hiding out, you know.”

Jonathan’s smile grew meeker, “Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure he will. It’s just not like him, you know? He’s not the kind of kid to just run off.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes peering down at one of the many sheets you held for him, the boy’s smile wide and genuine. You didn’t know, though. You felt like you barely knew Jonathan, let alone Will. The eldest of the siblings, you’d met during your quick stint working at the cinema down town. You had similar music taste, bonding over your disdain for the popular kids in school, and he’d even taught you how to properly change the pump for the buttered popcorn. Your job there had only lasted a few months, but your friendship with Jonathan had lasted a lot longer. But it wasn’t like you two sat around braiding each others hair.

He was quiet and meek, whilst you were indifferent and aberrant. At least, that’s what your mother had always called you. You had perfected the art of acting like you didn’t care, and Jonathan seemed to not care at all. He kept to himself, and that’s how he liked it. You had bulldozed your way into his life, pouring flat half-cups of Coca-Cola and stale barely buttered popcorn and given him no real chance but to accept your sudden appearance. He took it in his stride, at least. But he remained quiet and shy, nonetheless.

“Hey,” a small, familiar voice called from behind you. Turning, you both send Nancy a small smile. Handing the papers back to the boy, you gave them space to talk, ready to make your way towards Kaminsky’s classroom in hopes of looking over your notes one last time.

Barb, however, had another idea, her arm halting you mid-stride before you could pass, “How is he?”

Before you could answer, you could hear the snickering of the three people to your left, “Yeah, hows he doing? Heard guilt can really tear a person down from the inside, out.”

Watching as Tommy’s face broke out into a large grin, the boy finding himself all too funny, your eyebrows pulled together in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about, Hagan?”

“He’s talking about the rumor that your boyfriend over there had something to do with his brother’s disappearance,” Steve explained, his eyes still set on his girlfriend, “Might wanna be careful. I wouldn’t be in any rooms alone with him.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes darting toward Jonathan, Nancy, their eyes soft and sweet, and then back to Steve, an insolent smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I think if anyone needs to be worried, it’s you, Harrington.”

Steve’s dark eyes darted toward you, and you made a point of looking back at his girlfriend, eyebrows raised as the smile broke onto your face. Deciding you’d had enough, you strolled down the hallway, ignoring Steve’s confused calls of your name.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep inhale of smoke, trying your best to aim it away from your friend as you blew it out, “The last thing I intend to do tonight is go to a lame-ass party at Harrington’s house. I’d rather fry my own eyeballs.”

Barb pouted, her eyes widening as they silently pleaded with you, causing you to turn your attention to the cigarette between your fingers,

“You have to come, please. I really, really don’t want to the the 3rd wheel tonight.”

Rolling your eyes at the girl’s dramatics, you sucked in another deep breath, the smoke burning your lungs slightly, “You won’t be a 3rd anything, Carol and Tommy will be there, too.”

“Ugh, 5th wheel, then. Please? I really don’t want to spend my entire evening there alone.”

“And I don’t want to spend even a second of my time there, at all. Why don’t you just tell Nancy no, for once? Put your foot down? I mean, she’ll be swapping spit with Harrington all night either way.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Barb send you an exasperated sigh, “You know I can’t do that.”

Your hand halted mid-way to your mouth, cigarette burning right down to the end, leaving you only faintly aware of the slight pain, but your eyes were focused on Barb. Of course, you knew Barb couldn’t — and wouldn’t — let Nancy go to this party alone. And you knew why, too. But that didn’t mean you had to be dragged along too, did it?

Dropping the butt of your cigarette onto the floor and crushing it with your worn sneaker, you frowned, forehead creasing as you sighed, staring off into the distance, “Oh my god, fine. I’ll go. But only for an hour, and then I’m out.”

Barb had never looked more grateful, pulling you into a strong hug and thanking you a million times.

Unable to not smile back at the girl, you shook your head, “Who even has a party on a Tuesday night?”

The plan was for Barb to pick you up at 8pm, along with Nancy. The girls had told their parents that you would all be studying at the library before sleeping over Nancy’s house. It was only a half-truth at best, and one that needn’t be repeated for your own mother.

Around 5pm you drove out towards Randolph lane, deciding to grab some burgers for yourself and your mother, hoping that it would at least sober her up whenever she wandered in that evening. Grumbling, you realized you still hadn’t topped up on gas, and decided that after you’d hit the gas station before heading home, hoping you still had some change in the car.

Pulling into the parking lot, a frown pulled at your features, dipping your brows towards each other. The lights were shut off, and as you approached the door, you almost bounced right off it, realizing a little too late that it was locked. Jiggling the door handle a few times, you knocked on the glass. Sure, Benny could’ve closed up early… But Benny never closed up early. Not even on week nights. He was always open for the evening rush normally fueled by hungry teens and loitering pre-teens.

“Benny? You in there?” Rasping your knuckles against the door one last time, you huffed, annoyed that your plan of an easy dinner and been thwarted. Before you turned to return to your car, something through the darkened window caught your eye.

It was definitely a figure at the table, but not quiet sat… More-so slumped. Backing away from the window a little too quickly, you stumbled off the deep curb, falling backwards onto the concrete. Eyes wide as you pushed yourself back, you managed to heave yourself up before taking off across the road, heading into the gas station.

The bell rang as the door bounced off the wall, hinges squeaking as the owner, Earl, turned his annoyed glare in your direction, “Careful with the damn door-”

Upon seeing your panicked face, Earl quickly made his way around the counter, brows pulled together in a frown as he held his hands out, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I think… I think something’s wrong with Benny-”

“Benny? Benny Hammond? I saw him yesterday, he’s fine-”

Shaking your head, your eyes whipped back toward the diner, “No, I… I don’t know. I came to get dinner, but it’s closed, so I looked through the window and I think… I think I can see him.”

Earl’s eyes darted between yourself and the diner, concern and skepticism evident on his features, “Right. I’m gonna go check it out, you get on the phone to the Sheriff. But I swear to God kid, if this is some stupid teenage prank-”

Perched on the wall just outside the diner, your leg bounced erratically as you waited for Hopper to return from inside. He’d arrived within 30 minutes, Powell to his left and Callahan to his right, and a face stormier than a rain cloud.

It didn’t take 10 minutes after his arrival for the fire department and ambulance to turn up, backdoor open as they carried out a stretcher.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper’s once dour expression had melted away, smoothing out into something slightly softer, though his frown remained. Maybe, after so many years, his face was stuck like that, you wondered.

Shrugging, your teeth worried at your bottom lip for a moment, “I came to get dinner. The door was locked and… Benny never shuts this early.”

Nodding, Hopper scribbled something down on his notepad before turning his attention back to you, swallowing uncomfortably at your tremulous voice, “Then what?”

“I thought it was weird… Knocked on the door a few times, but I didn’t get a response. So I looked through the gap in the curtains and… I don’t know. I saw someone leaning over a table. I didn’t know what was going on so I went and got Earl. He said to call you guys.”

“Alright. Look, I’ll have to take an official statement, but that can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you-”

Before Hopper could finish his sentence, your attention was pulled away by the door opening, the familiar bell above it ringing like it always did. Two paramedics rolled out the stretcher, a large white sheet stretched across a white, zipped bag. A body bag.

Feeling your stomach lurch half-way up your throat whilst your heart dropped the other way, you couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, body all but toppling off the wall and thankfully into the arms of Hopper.

Sure, he’d seen a lot of shit during his time in New York, but they had all been strangers and that seemed much easier to disassociate from and get the job done. But Benny… Well, they went way back. They were friends.

Despite Hop’s insistence to not look, you couldn’t help but turn your head, watching as they loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and carted off toward the morgue.

The last suicide in Hawkins had been in October of 1961, and despite not even being born then, you knew all too well about it. It had been your Grandmother, after all.

Crazy old Colette, the town had so lovingly referred to her as. Lost her husband in the war as well as her mind and never got either back. And, of course, instead of helping, the town simply ignored and gossiped, watching as she wandered around town at all hours, jittery and talking to herself, shouting that the ‘end was nigh’.

What was strange, however, was your family weren’t particularly religious. Your mother only worshiped the God she found at the bottom of a bottle, and you couldn’t even guess the last time you’d stepped inside the town’s chapel. Sure, Hawkins had it’s fair share of bible bashers — typically the overprotective PTA moms and their husbands who would frequently break their marriage vows whenever they headed out of town — but your family weren’t exactly known for their love of Jesus Christ. Or any other higher being, for that matter.

You had frequently wondered if that was the start of your mother’s downward spiral, the loss of her father and consequently her mother too, her drinking only exacerbated when your father headed out for a pack of Embassy Gold cigarettes one evening and apparently got lost on his way home, ending up in Georgia, or Colorado, or wherever the hell he was now.

Worse than that, however, was the torment that maybe whatever had caused your Grandmother to lose herself was hereditary, trickling down through the generations of your family right to the very bottom.

To you.

[just-cant-get-kenough]

Keep You Company

〚Driver x afab!reader〛// 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

♡Summary: You get bored of the New Years party at your apartment, and happen to see your quiet neighbour across the hallway. You offer to keep him company at his place.

♡Content Warnings: NSFW, Reader had a bit to drink before the story takes place. Driver gets very horny very easily and has questionable morals.

♡Word count - 1,378

♡A/N - I’m 4 days late for New Years whoops (this took me forever to finish). Better late than never, I guess! I’m no writer and this is my first fic in a very, very long time. Also it hasn't been proof-read, apologizes if there's any mistakes! I hope you like it though, Enjoy! ♡

───♡────────────────────────────────────────

It had been decided among your group of friends that this year’s New Years party would be held at your place, despite your numerous protests against it. You had just moved into your new apartment a few months ago after all, and didn’t exactly want to be a nuisance to your new neighbours – trying your best to avoid noise complaints and all that. Still, somehow your friends had convinced you in the end.

Wanting to give your ears a break from all the noise before it had the chance to give you a migraine, you found a quieter spot in the hallway of the apartment building and sat down on the floor, back against the wall. Before you could rest your eyes for a moment, you caught sight of a familiar white jacket.

“Hey” you smiled at your quiet neighbour with a small wave, the bottle of liquor you had been consuming still in your hand.

“Hey” Driver replied, his lips curled into a slight smile before taking out his keys to unlock his apartment door.

“Spending New Years all by yourself?” you asked, but before he could give an answer, you innocently continued “I can keep you company, if you want” - not entirely aware of the implications of your words, the alcohol you had previously consumed perhaps clouding your judgment a bit.

Driver stopped what he was doing and stood at his door in complete silence for a short moment, his heart racing in his chest, before he swallowed and answered “Sure” still avoiding direct eye contact with you.

How could he look you in the eye, with what you were wearing? You’d always looked good in his eyes, but he’d never seen you dressed quite like this before… Driver had immediately taken notice of how the shape of your black dress perfectly emphasized your curves, the low cut of the neckline showing off a rather generous amount of your cleavage, and just how teasingly short your dress was overall. It was enough to drive the man crazy.

Driver’s imagination immediately ran wild, fantasizing about gliding his hands up your thighs and pushing the hem of your dress up out of the way, kissing and biting and leaving marks all over your exposed neck while you squirm and moan underneath him and –

You got up happily with a little “Yay!” and made your way to his door, stumbling slightly from the liquor you’d been consuming previously at your party. You weren’t drunk-drunk, just a bit tipsy. He swallowed hard again, snapping out of his embarrassingly horny daydream before finally managing to unlock his door, without saying another word. Calm down, he thought to himself.

He kept the door open for you, and you eagerly let yourself in. As you entered his apartment, you carelessly placed the partially emptied glass bottle you had been holding onto the nearest counter, then sat at the edge of his bed, and immediately began taking your heels off one by one. Driver, now leaning against his bedroom wall and fiddling with the toothpick in his mouth trying not to appear nervous, watched your every move very carefully.

He couldn’t help but wonder if you were putting on some kind of show for him, especially with how your dress was riding up on your thighs, becoming dangerously short as you maneuvered your legs to take off your shoes. He kept watching, waiting.

“I don’t get why girls have to wear these stupid things anyway, they’re so uncomfortable” you began complaining mostly to yourself out loud, before stopping yourself mid-thought and changing the subject, directing your attention back to Driver.

“Hey, come on, come sit next to me” you invited him with a smile and lightly patted the vacant space next you on his bed.

Your invitation and the potential implication of your words coupled with the current state of your clothes was too much for him. Driver felt himself become uncomfortably hard against his jeans, finding it increasingly difficult to contain his desire for you. His thoughts raced again.

He wanted nothing more than to rip your dress off right then and there, and fuck you mercilessly into his mattress. You’d been the object of his fantasies for months now since you’d moved into the apartment next door. He’d jerked off countless times before to the thought of even just kissing you, imagining how soft and warm your lips would feel against his, how good your tongue would feel in his mouth... and now you were not only in his apartment, but on his bed, and wearing an outfit that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Driver silently sat down next to you, still unsure of your intentions. He desperately tried to ignore his heightening arousal, especially the precum leaking from the tip of his now painfully hard cock. Sensing that something was wrong, you gently placed your hand on his arm out of concern.

Fuck. Calm down. He bit down harder on his toothpick, struggling to keep himself together. He was so tense he could almost bite the toothpick in half.

“You alright?” you began, until a piercing thought suddenly crossed your mind: Maybe he doesn’t want me here, beginning to regret having ever invited yourself to his apartment so casually without much thought. You assumed that he was starting to get annoyed by your presence.

You immediately began apologizing in a bit of a panic and started to reach for the shoes you’d left on the floor just a short while ago, now feeling like a complete idiot. “I-, I’m sorry I just invited myself into your apartment like that. That was so rude of me. I should go home. I just thought that maybe because it’s New Years and you seemed a bit lonely and I was just--”

“Stay”

“Huh?” you looked back at him in confusion.

“I want you to stay” he said more firmly this time, his eyes finally making contact with yours for the first time since you’d began talking to him that night.

By this time he’d already abandoned the tooth pick in his mouth and flicked it carelessly onto his bedroom floor. Now with the one thing gone that had given him any semblance of self-control, he wouldn’t waste any more time in getting what he wanted. It was all your fault after all, he thought, coming into his apartment uninvited like that, not to mention with such a slutty outfit on….. You’d made him feel this way. You’d been the one teasing him that night, whether you realized it or not.

Before you had a chance to respond, Driver grabbed you by the waist, bringing you closer to him, and began kissing you hungrily. You tasted like alcohol, but that didn’t seem to bother him – he desperately wanted you and he needed you now. You dropped your heels onto the floor once more to free your hands. He guided you onto his lap, and you were now straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and reciprocated the heated kiss with equal passion. He slipped his tongue inside, making you moan into his mouth.

As you pulled away from each others’ lips, you were suddenly startled by the loud countdown that had begun at the party being held next door at your apartment that you had forgotten about by now. Oh right. It was almost midnight. You’d completely lost track of time since coming to Driver’s place.

You could hear them all shouting loudly in unison:

...5...4…3… 2…

“One” you said softly with smile, arms still wrapped around him. “Happy New Year” you whispered and kissed him again, gently this time.

You soon found yourself laying on his bed, and you could feel the weight of his body on top of you. He began planting needy kisses all over your neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin as you grasped at the fabric on his back of his signature jacket . This was so much better than any fantasy he could ever come up with, too good even, it was overwhelming and he didn’t know if he could last much longer…

With a breathy whisper in his ear, you let out two simple words that just about sent him over the edge:

“Fuck me”

───♡────────────────────────────────────────

[jinxiaobao]

Artists and designers self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five works in any medium that you've created, then pass it on to at least five other creators. Let’s spread the self-love 💛

aw thank you for thinking of me, cat! apologies for being so late to do this 💛💛💛

💜 icon: pete saengtham set - this set was a BEAST to make (the first gif alone took me two days to get the way i wanted it kdfshfj), but i love the way it turned out! i set out to really let loose with typography and animation and transitions, and i think i pulled it off.

🧡 only friends + iphones set - when @cal-kestis shared her template for her incredible iphone sets, i had to give it try! coming up with different color combos and thinking about what the characters would prioritize on their phones was a lot of fun.

💖 emotions: love + uncertainty (sand x ray, only friends) set - this set reinvented itself a few times bc i wanted it to express what was happening between sand and ray at the time it was being posted. i'm often inspired by music, and when 'do i wanna know' by arctic monkeys played in one of my mixes, i knew that had to be the basis. that sand mentions liking arctic monkeys in the show only helped fuel that. i was inspired by this set, esp by the second to last gif, and i wanted a similar effect for my set. it took FOREVER to get it (mostly) the way i wanted it, because i had to just. figure it out? it's not as seamless as it is in the inspiration set, but i think i did okay?

💛 sand x ray, only friends (inspired by this beautiful set by @seamayweed) aka the kintsugi set - i fell in love with sea's kintsugi set and when the prompt of 'inspiration' was announced for the userdramas event, i immediately thought of it. the timing coincided with eps 8 & 9 of only friends, and i was thinking about how ray has these 'cracks' and sand is the gold lovingly piecing them back together to help make something even more beautiful......that was corny as hell but that was the thought process. honestly? i think it turned out beautifully and i'm really proud of it.

❤️ halsey - finally // beautiful stranger (sand x ray, only friends) (tw cracked glass effect and flickering neon) - this was a birthday gift for my beloved @henwilsons, who loves sandray as well. she also likes halsey, so i combed thru some songs and finally (heh) decided to work with 'finally // beautiful stranger'. i feel like the mood and lyrics of the song mirror sand's feelings for ray: this beautiful stranger bulldozes his way into his life and he wants to believe they can just be friends, that sex between them won't change anything ('and i say i'm only playing'). but whoops he fucked around and fell in love. and he's been hurt but he can't help but want this man. (god these bozos mean so much to me.) i wanted the set to have a 'last call at the bar' kind of vibe, so i used deep blue and red and then paired that with neon lighting. the cracked glass effect to convey being terrified and hurt just made sense to me. i think it turned out nice, and mia really liked it, and that was the most important thing!

💚 put that blorbo under a microscope!: ray pakorn - she's new but i love her! like most a lot of my sets, i didn't have a solid idea in my head about what i wanted to do. i knew that i wanted to gif ray (he's such a dumpling), that the scene of ray and sand in the hallway of the rehab center with the green floral art behind them made me want to use green, and it evolved from there. infinite thanks go to @deokmis who patiently listened to me ramble about this and gave me valuable suggestions and feedback that made it so much better! i love this set and i'm obsessed with green now.

so there you go. yeah, i know. i did six sets. i couldn't choose and also i don't know how to shut up. don't be like me. be normal.

[laceyamethyst]

HELLO i am crash-landing in your inbox to declare that have ✨ BIG FEELINGS ✨ about the 2nd chapter of “he built a fire” and that i might leave an uber long comment on ao3 about all the big and small bits i absolutely loved if that’s ok, but if you’d rather i sent them here please let me know!! i stayed up last night to read it instead of going to bed early for work (and read it again anyway over breakfast, i am late, whoops 😬)

i just wanted to share/ask before i forgot

- i was kinda bummed you unalived i mean fired Brian off camera so easily, i wanted him to try reprimanding Oscar for his hilarious, politely sassy - but very public - comments during the Qatar GP and for Lando to come swooping to his defence 🫣 idea? maybe a leftover Brian Lackey? we all know Lando would throw hands the first chance he gets to defend Oscar

- also, imagine the Mexican GP in this universe - more importantly, the 5 F2 rookies driving in FP1 and your lore about how F2 drivers all look up to Oscar? Fred would be normal about it but imagine just 4 wide-eyed eager puppies following Oscar around and Lando just going full caveman banging pots and pans hollering in the town square declaring “THAT ONE MINE NO TOUCHY” in the background while Oscar’s just ☺️ ‘it’s really great to have them here’

- i was done with those two points but then i remembered Oscar inviting Lewis to an RC-car race after his win in Suzuka and I just 🤯 ??? Lewis IRL is so hugely supportive of the LGBTQI+, I just can’t help imagine how he’d fit in the Mission universe (accidental reluctant relationship guru? ‘don’t make the same mistakes i did?’)

thank you for your consideration i will now go back to floating on cloud nine after chapter two 💗 have a spectacular week, you deserve it after making mine so awesome ❤️

oh my goodness, this was just... the nicest most wholesome wonderful thing to wake up to?!? thank you SO much, you have no idea how happy it makes me that you enjoyed the fic 🥺

firstly, i would absolutely love to hear any and all thoughts you have about that chapter because it fills me with so much joy to see which parts of my fics readers like most (and it also helps me decide what plot points to focus on next)! so please feel free to comment away on here or on ao3, and never ever worry about it being too long

and secondly, serious question: are you in my brain?! because, listen:

let me tell you how i had a whole dramatic ass scene planned involving a very public takedown of brian courtesy of one (1) lando norris, but i had to cut it out bc the chapter length was getting out of hand 😭. i adore your idea of oscar's qatar comments getting him in trouble and lando jumping to his defense (on live TV, perhaps? ahem)

oh please the rookies hero-worshipping oscar at the mexican gp and lando having absolutely None of it? that image is sending me

ok yeah you absolutely are in my brain because how did you know i had a whole scene planned where lewis talked to oscar after the race (bc he of course crashed into him in monza), firstly to apologize but when he realizes osc and lando just fought he was going to be all 'don't you dare let racing tear you apart you will regret it forever *cough* i still love nico *cough*.' but yes i love lewis and im trying to work him into a future mission fic!

i'm sorry for this very long and unhinged response, i'm truly vibing with these ideas and am super appreciative of you taking the time to share them with me 🧡

[stillness-in-green]

On Chapter Posts (and What Comes After)

Just a heads-up to everyone that, at least for the time being, I’m putting the chapter posts on moratorium.  I’ve been far more critical than not for months on end, and while I do get some satisfaction out of the venting, it’s just gotten more mentally demanding than it’s worth.  Compliments are easy and fun to write!  I always end up feeling like I have to do more writing to support negativity, however, providing enough explanation to support my complaints, and often going even further to anticipate and preemptively counter responses.

That big slab of nitpicking sits at the top of my to-do list week-in and week-out, a responsibility to keep on top of lest I fall behind, pushing answering asks and working on other projects behind it, and with the chapters of late having become incredibly demotivating, not getting them done means I get nothing done.  It certainly doesn’t help that Horikoshi’s writing has become so dependent on fake-outs, asspulls, retcons, and purposefully misleading cliffhangers, all of which make it unrewarding in the extreme to put effort and thought into meaningful analysis on a chapter-by-chapter basis.

I apologize to anyone who was really enjoying them—I’ve had a number of people tell me they love my meticulous breakdowns, and I’m forever grateful that my anal-retentiveness has found some like minds!  That said, please don’t fear that I’m out of the BNHA analysis game entirely!  I’d just rather focus my attention on larger-scale material, subjects that require analyzing the work as a whole, rather than the week-to-week grind.

First up will be clearing out my ask backlog—not, I think, a terribly burdensome prospect this time—as well as give the Mina fan the answer I promised them months ago to their last reply in our series of lengthy exchanges about Chapter 383.

Afterwards, my current and wishlist projects include:

Below the jump, I've compiled a list of my projects, meta and fanfic alike.  Feel free to skim through if you’re interested in what the chapter posts have been keeping me away from!

Meta Projects:

An absolutely massive documentation of heteromorphobia in the main series and Vigilantes that I’ve been erratically working on since March of last year—41 pages and I’m still only at the beginning of the war arc!  I’ve been trying to decide if I want to just start posting this in arc-length breakdowns or finish the whole thing first for optimal organization and presentation, though I suppose I could do the former on tumblr and the latter on AO3. Anyone have a preference?    

The much-delayed essay laying out the evidence for the possession plot with AFO and Shigaraki not being the originally intended endgame for those characters, at least not in the form it wound up taking.  Currently six pages, this one is still mostly bullet points; it also hasn’t been updated to reflect some of the more recent wild inconsistencies.  I’d like to give the series time to wrap up whatever it’s going to do with AFO before I publish this one, in case of eleventh hour reveals, but there’s certainly a lot of draft work I could be doing in the meantime.    

Some follow-up/companion pieces to my MVA In Memoriam series.  I’d like to go back to the PLF Spotting posts, which were intended to run through the anime’s treatment of the PLF in the war arc, and I’ve also been compiling points for a schadenfreude-y post on the dazzling variety of ways the anime’s butchering of MVA has complicated its own future as an adaptation.  This would cover things like the anime having to hastily jam in the CRC scene as a flashback because, whoops, it turns out heteromorphobia is going to play a major role in the climax, or the whole-hog deletion of Curious talking about quirk counseling, given that Horikoshi would later directly depict how said counseling exacerbated the psychological abuse Toga was already facing from her parents.    

An essay I promised an anon last year about my perception of the MLA’s ideology.  I’m salty about what the lazy, rushed writing in the final arc has reduced my favorite villain group in the manga to, however, so at this point, I want to do two things with this piece.  First, analyze why the MLA's current portrayal is so problematic*—what they say doesn’t even match up with who they are and how they act now, much less in their MVA portrayal!  Second, discuss how I write them, extrapolating from the non-caricatured aspects of their portrayal with the intent of offering a version of the MLA who are still extremist, cultish villains but who are allowed to have some proper nuance, and an ideology that’s actually consistent with their history, their tactics, and their MVA-era characterization.    

A number of shorter fancies and trifles that I’ve thought about and taken a few notes on, but have never gotten around to fully drafting:      o A post on how heroes and villains respectively engage with dramatic unmaskings.      o A post on directionality of movement in visual media, highlighting some particularly interesting examples in BNHA to discuss what those examples indicate about the characters’ mentalities and the narrative’s silent, implicit judgement thereof.      o A post on how frustrating it’s been to see all of Toga’s powers and abilities get retroactively leashed to—and limited by—her girly love-love emotions.      o A post on the chronic underestimation of Shigaraki Tomura and the woes it consistently leads to.      o A post or two analyzing the final beats of each chapter in the War Arcs with the aim of critiquing the way the series undermines the threat presented by the villains during said arcs.

   

Fanfic Projects:

On the fanfic side, it’s been frustrating me for months now that I haven’t written a substantial piece of non-prompt-driven fanfic for BNHA since January of last year, and even that's being generous with the word "substantial." Before that, I'd have to go all the way back to 2020 to find a non-prompt-based fic with a distinct beginning/middle/end. Suffice to say I’ve got lots of projects on that front!

While the rest of these are all BNHA fic, I do have a Gundam IBO fic I'm, like, two-thirds finished with the final chapter of that I badly want to finally, finally finish. It's basically down to an awkward conversation or two and a pair of wedding vows I've consigned myself to writing by virtue of drawing attention to them in the preceding chapters, RIP.    

The perpetually languishing Obon fic, in which Re-Destro has a lot of feelings he is taking care not to examine too closely about his ancestors. Six thousand words and not even halfway finished.    

The self-indulgent ShigRD mermaid fic, which has a number of cheerleaders in my friend circle and also my id.    

Finish the MLA May AUs.    

I'd like to circle back and write something for those last three days of Spinaraki Week Level 3 I never got to.    

Brainstorming two distinct massive fix-it fic AUs I would at least like to draft some solid outlines for, even as it's unlikely I'll ever have the patience to write all the scenes about the kids they'd require.      o "Forward Different" (the current name on the OneNote tab) would start from the first war arc, being faithful to the canon up to that point, but with major and minor changes that ripple outward to take the story farther and farther from canon the longer it progresses.  (In that story: the MLA not folding like a bad hand in the raids, a Lady Nagant who's true to her professed hatred of empty platitudes, OFA being less of a perfectly good pushover, etc.)      o "Backward Different" would also start from the first war arc, but things would drastically diverge almost immediately because of a number of strategically placed changes to prior events and character motivations; these would be wildcards to be uncovered or deduced as the story progresses.  (In that story: Aoyama was revealed as the traitor all the way back at the training camp, cast members who actually matter turn out to be MLA, OFA is less of a perfectly good pushover, etc.)      

I also have a number of deeply backburnery ideas, still more in the category of "idea" than project, that I could to move to more active project status.      o The one where my might-as-well-call-them-my-MLA-fancharacter has to team up with Toga post-Jakku and travel across a rapidly unraveling Japan in order to meet back up safely with their allies.      o The one where I use an OC detective to examine the official response to the Shimura massacre, and how it got squashed.      o The Kotarou Lives AU, in which Kotarou survives said massacre. Look, gang, I just really want to write about AFO gleefully and aggressively coming on to Shimura Nana's deliciously bitter, traumatized, handsome, ignorant son. I also really like my idea for a lead-in/stinger on this one.      o The one where Geten busts himself and his allies out of prison, be it the canon-verse story with his now-confirmed cell neighbor Mr. Compress or the teenaged AU where he gets thrown in the same high-security juvie Mustard is in.

And that's about all I can dig up out of my notes at the moment. Let me know if there's anything you guys are particularly interested in, though priority is likely to go to shorter or more fully developed projects. Thanks for reading!

(* In the academic sense, not the moral one.)

[spicy-outer-space]

I've been convinced

Angst writing that I did for the discord. Am unreasonably proud of it

Tw for heavy angst , blood, and death (and probably other things too but I'm not sure)

‎

Characters:

- Starry belongs to @'buc-eebarnes

- Zara belongs to @'tippytanpies

- Thea belongs to @'seraph-draws-stuff

- David is mine

- Mark is (technically) from AHWM, except I think he's very ooc here whoops

Mark couldn't sit still. They were already arriving to some old abandoned house, but it was taking too long, and he couldn't stop thinking about Starry who was passed out, bleeding, in the back seat. He didn't dare look for the fear of accidentally locking eyes with Thea or David. (Starry'll be fine, she's strong, it's fine)

‎

He hopped out of the car before it even fully stopped, tripping on his way and recieving a concerned squeak from Zara. He opened the back door, got Starry out of the car and started walking towards the house (Zara quick to follow him) before the sound of the engine had the chance to die down. He tried to ignore how limp and cold and small Starry felt in his arms. (They're still breathing. It's fine. Everything is ok. It's gonna be fine)

‎

He was halfway to the house when he realised something was wrong. Behind Zara's constant stream of quiet apologies and how loud his own thoughts were, he didn't notice it sooner.

‎

There were only two sets of footsteps crunching on the gravel: his and Zara's.

‎

This realisation caused him to stop in his tracks, earning another startled squeak from Zara as they almost crashed into his back.

‎

Why haven't Thea and David gotten out of the car yet.

Something was wrong

‎

Despite his brain yelling at him about Starry, Mark turned around and started taking long strides back towards the car. Thea. He can't lose two of his friends in one day. He won't. He refuses to

‎

He could see from afar how David lifted its head at the sound of footsteps getting closer. Mark tried to keep his voice level when he started speaking

‎

"Get out of the car."

‎

No answer

‎

"David, wake up Thea and get out of the car."

‎

Mark could see how much effort it took for David to shake his head.

‎

"I can't do that. I'm sorry, Mark," his voice is quiet, but Mark still felt his world get knocked out from under him

‎

This isn't really happening. It can't be happening. It must be joking

‎

Mark reached forward, opening the car door and somehow not dropping Starry in the process (some part of his brain was screaming that her pulse got weaker. He hoped he was wrong)

‎

"David. David ge--" he had to stop and swallow hard before continuing with a shaky voice, "get out of the car. Both of you. Ple- Please"

‎

David was smiling, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. It shakes its head. His voice is barely above a whisper now

‎

"It's too late for us, Mark. You know that. Go save Starry, they still have a chance" David weakly flaps his hand. Mark is pretty sure it was trying to wave him off.

‎

Mark's brain chimes back in at that point, agreeing with David (Starry's breathing was definitely more uneven now, he can't afford to waste any more time-), but his body refused to move.

‎

"Thea?"

‎

The pause drags on forever. He already knows that it's no use, but that doesn't stop him from hoping

‎

This is taking too long

‎

Just as Mark turned and started walking away he heard David speak up "...hey, I think... I think you should go to Stan's after this. It's safe there. He'll look after you."

‎

Mark stopped walking, but he didn't dare turn back around. (The adrenaline was wearing off and he was already tearing up, turning back to face his friends? One of whom is already dead and one who's actively dying? He would have broken down right there and then)

‎

"Just.... Tell him I'm sorry, could you? You don't have to stay with him, but, please-"

‎

"Sure"

‎

And with that, Mark started speeding towards the house, where Zara was already nervously standing in the doorway, twisting their arms in uncertainty of what to do next. He shouldn't dwell. Life is for the living, after all.

‎

‎

‎

.

.

.

A good while after the sound of footsteps disappeared into the house, David tilted its head and pressed a kiss to Thea's forehead, before resting his head on top of hers

His voice was barely there now, a sound that could easily be mistaken for the rustle of the wind, or maybe a calm exhale.

.

.

.

"See you soon, sis"

[fiona-whittaker]

“Mav!” His girlfriends yelled in unison as they burst through the front door hand in hand, all smiles and giggles.

The man in question, still dressed in his scrubs, sat upright on the couch in alarm. His eyes were heavy and his hair disheveled, a clear sign he had fallen asleep as soon as he had gotten home from class.

“Whoops. Sorry, baby.” Fiona apologized with a frown, realizing they had woken him with their noisy entrance.

“It’s okay, angels. Come here.” He said simply as he relaxed back into the couch with open arms. They both joined him on the couch, Frankie wrapped her arms around his middle and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, peppering kisses there while Fiona perched on the other side, digging through her seemingly bottomless tote bag for something.

“Look what we found!” The petite brunette finally cried triumphantly, holding out her hand to show off the heart shaped rock that lay flat in her palm. Maverick reached out and took the rock in his own hand, brushing over her palm lovingly as he did so. A wide smile broke out on his face as he inspected the stone and Fiona knew he was remembering the first one they had found together, just like she did every time she stumbled upon one.

–

“I just really don’t think this is a good idea.” Fiona said for the hundredth time. She and her two best friends had just snuck off campus for the first time. Well, her first time. Frankie and Mav were professionals, they had been sneaking off for years before finally convincing her to come along.

“So you’ve mentioned.” Maverick noted dryly which earned him a shooting glare from Francesca who then took the other girl’s hand.

“Look, we already passed the property line.” Frankie noted softly as the trio continued to walk away from their school and deeper into the woods surrounding it. “We’re free now.” She encouraged, tugging Fiona along gently. After slight resistance, the smaller girl relented and the pair was skipping into the trees.

“Hey! What the fuck. Wait for me.”

“See if you can keep up, McHale!” Frankie taunted despite Fiona’s short legs keeping them from taking off into a full sprint speed.

“I’ve got the weed.” It didn’t matter though, as Maverick replied with a simple reminder.

“The what!?” Fiona squeaked, pulling her hand away from Frankie harder than she needed too, sending her tumbling to the ground. It would have been a soft enough landing into the brush had her elbow not connected with a rock, scraping against the jagged stone and drawing blood.

“Fi!” Maverick was at her side in an instant, crouching beside her and inspecting the scrape on her elbow. He placed a gentle kiss to the spot before getting back up to his feet and helping Fiona up, too.

“All better.” He confirmed as Fiona wrinkled her nose.

“You kissed my blood.” She noted and Maverick let out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as if to say it was no big deal. Then, he reached down and grabbed the culprit, the rock that had both tripped and scraped her.

“It kind of looks like a heart, don’t you think?” He said as he held up the rock for both of the girls to inspect. Frankie took it in her hands and let out her own soft laugh.

“It’s got Fi’s blood on it, so that makes it her heart now.” Maverick took the rock back from Frankie as she spoke and tucked it into his pocket.

“In that case, we have to keep it forever and take the best care of it.” Fiona beamed at his words, feeling her eyes well up with tears that she held back. Frankie took her hand again, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Always.” She agreed before turning them on their heels and directing them back onto their path into the forest. The first of many late night adventures they would embark on together.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

I do learn from my mistakes, so this time I'm here to say hello with *three* boxes of cookies 😌

One box of plain sugar cookies for the boys;

The second box has Gloss' name on the lid, and the cookies inside are covered with sprinkles and glazing of all colors I could find (and if those cookies are heart-shaped with frosting arrows through them, uhhh it's just a harmless detail ok 😳);

And the third is the heaviest, with the lid barely able to close with how full of cookies it is. There are two notes on top, one with Drip's name, the other with both the recipe and a tea suggestion to go with the treats.

"Here, I hope these can sweeten the week for you all 😊"

I love these asks that include all the boys. They take forever to write, but it's so much fun to see them interact and play off each other like siblings. Plus, they love the attention and the cookies! You spoil my babies 🥺

*Tungsts takes the boxes from you*

Tungst: Holy... This is a lot of cookies!

*Tungst juggles the boxes and looks at the notes*

Tungst: Gloss, this one's for you.

*Gloss raises an eyebrow and takes the box*

Gloss: All of these?

*Tungst shrugs*

*Gloss shrugs back, opens the box, and his eyes grow wide at the contents*

Gloss: These are so pretty! The colors are vibrant, and the scheme is on point! I like the contrast in the base color of the cookie. versus the top color of the arrows. You know you're stuff.

*Tungst grins*

Gloss: I need to sketch this.

*Gloss hands you back the box of cookies*

Gloss: Hold these, please.

*You give him a quizzical look as he pulls out his sketchbook*

Gloss: Angle the box like this.

*Gloss maneuvers your arms to the position he wants*

Gloss: Perfect! I'll sketch you and your cookies so I can keep the memory.

*You smile and hold your pose for him*

Brett: Can you get out of the middle of the walkway?

Gloss: No, the lighting is perfect right here.

*Brett sighs and goes the long way around*

*Tungst looks at the second box's note as Brett peers over his shoulder*

Tungst: Drip, these are for you.

*Drip is taken aback as he grabs the overflowing cookie box from Tungst*

Drip: Woah, these are all for me?

*You look at Drip and nod your head*

Gloss: Please don't move.

*You apologize and go back to posing for Gloss*

*Drip pops a cookie in his mouth and reads the other note on the box*

Rift: Can I have one?

*Drip clamps the lid shut and shakes his head*

Drip: Nuh, uh. These are mine.

*Rift frowns*

Tungst: There's a third box just for us.

Rift: Sweet!

*Rift takes a couple of cookies and tosses them in his mouth*

Brett: Didn't you have enough cookies the other day?

*Rift talks with his mouth full*

Rift: There's no such thing as too many cookies.

*Chance pops up from behind Brett*

Chance: We have more cookies?

Brett: Why are you always late?

*Chance shrugs*

Chance: I like to mosey.

Brett: From where?

Chance: Everywhere.

Drip: Good news, everyone!

Brett: You've stopped drooling in your sleep?

Drip: ...

Drip: No.

*Brett crosses his arms*

*Drip clears his throat*

Drip: Our beautiful Mesh'la here gave me the recipes for the cookies.

Rift: Way to go, Mesh'la! Cookies for dinner!

Brett: Whoop-di-doo.

Chance: You know, you should get that checked.

Brett: What?

Chance: Your attitude.

Brett: ...

Brett: Mosey somewhere else.

*Chance grins and eats a cookie*

Tungst: You deserved that.

*Brett rolls his eyes*

Brett: Whatever.

[ireallyamabear]

whoops sorry, sent this as a message by mistake (not used to send asks) so again, for the ask game, 12 and 25 for Maarva! Again have a nice day, sorry for being a bit stupid lol

all is good my friend, you did everything right :D but oh man, Maarva is a complicated and controversial character ...

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? Here's actually a crazy thought i always had: When Bix says to Cassian in the finale "I saw Maarva", i thought she didn't mean the maarva hologram, but that maarva actually visited her through the tunnels. It doesn't really make sense with what we see of the guards and soldiers in the Hotel, and Maarva's very frail state, but the way Bix says it. Always makes me think ... that she had seen Maarva in person one last time. There's something there.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

this is a hard one. I did like Maarva when we met her, and I do still like her character - not necessarily what she does. Like so many other characters in Andor, she gets peeled over the course of the season, and I think you need to see all of it and then go back and evaluate the whole character from the start. I like that we have this flawed old woman as a character in star wars, that has a really strained relationship with her adopted child and thinks of herself as totally different to what she is. The line about how she hated how her mother was a whiner! How ironic. I think they absolutely nailed the portrayal of her and Cassian's relationship, and how they struggle with their affection which is always overshadowed by the sin at the start of their relationship, the kidnapping. I love that they show this relationship between two adults that try to move around the hole in their life (Clem) and dont know how to talk to each other, and I love that they show how easily you miss the point in life that is actually the last chance to say something to your parent and then they just die, and you're an adult and should have expected that, but you didnt. and then when you get the miraculous gift of one last message from them it's just another reminder how they failed you while they were alive ("I love him more than anything he could ever do wrong?" Really Maarva, really?). And you still miss them, mostly because now it will forever be too late and the dead parent will never apologize to you now. You thought you had more time.

[hairstevington]

YOUR TURN

🤲 🧐 and 🎶 PLEASE

OH DAMN! Three?? I am blessed on this day!!!!

🤲 - Would you please share a snippet of a WIP?

Omg you sneaky sneak. Okay, if you insist. This is from the (spoiler alert) Buffy x Stranger Things crossover I plan on digging into eventually.

Buffy needed an escape. After what happened with Angel, she got on a bus and went the farthest she could away from anything familiar. She landed in the small town where nothing happened. Hawkins was the exact opposite of Sunnydale, which was exactly what Buffy needed.  Since she was on her own, now, she had to get a job. She found one pretty easily, and then she was wearing aprons and pouring coffee in no time. Well, she was supposed to be pouring coffee, and technically she was. She just also happened to keep spilling it. Whoops. “First day?” another waitress asked as she watched Buffy apologize to yet another customer and wipe up yet another spill. “What’s your name?” “Anne,” Buffy told her coworker. She was a pretty woman in her late twenties, with long red hair and a sarcastic nature. “And you are…” She looked at the red-head’s name tag. “Maxine?” “Max,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, Anne. Welcome to Hell.” Buffy raised an eyebrow. She knew a thing or two about what Hell was actually like. She looked around at the bland diner and its lifeless patrons, then shrugged. “I think I can handle it.”

🧐 - Do you spent much time researching for your stories?

I wouldn't say I spend a ton of time researching but it depends on the fic! Like, for my time travel fic i read SO MUCH about the mechanics of time travel and the history of the multiverse. So. Now that's in my head forever. Otherwise my google search history is making sure I'm using the right English words and fact checking!

🎶 - Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on a loop lately?

I have this thing where I can't just listen to music casually lmao. But! I do have a few playlists specifically for writing. They have to be songs with a specific vibe that I've heard a million times. As for a song I'm listening to on a loop, I just checked Spotify stats and in the last four weeks "ballad of a homeschooled girl" by Olivia Rodrigo has been dominating. Also "Hits Different" by Taylor Swift. I'll let you psychoanalyze that as you will 😂

[siempre-bucky]

Secret Valentine

Dympna Devers x Reader

Summary: You were forbidden to see him after your father heard about the brutality of the Devers Family. That didn't stop Dympna from creating a romantic Valentine's date for the two of you.

wc: 1.6k (I went a lil overboard)

A/N: surpriseeeee shortaayyyy I wrote this late last night. I'm in my valentines day era and my dympna era now...whoops. based on the lovely conversations I had with @mothdruid & @waspswidows. thanks for simping over him with me! ♡

With a pained grunt, you sat the final box of your dad's inventory in the back room of the small store, "Shit," you cursed as you leaned against the cold back door, your eyes glancing at the red streamers. A small smile adorned your lips as you caught your breath. Your mom insisted on decorating for Valentine's Day.

Straightening your spine, you went to walk back to the front of the store, until a repeating tapping sound pricked your ears, "The hell?" you mumble as you walked towards the window.

Pulling back the curtain you saw the blond boy with a hand full of stones standing in the alleyway. Your small smile grew, excitedly opening the window, "What are you doing here?" You whisper in case your dad could hear you.

Dympna Devers. The boy you fell head over heels for stood there in front of you with a smirk. "Can you get away, sunshine?" he asked, his normally cocky voice was laced with nervousness.

A small chill went through you. You weren't sure if it was from the fact you were forbidden to see the Devers boy or that he was asking you to go away with him in broad daylight. Your rendezvous happened at night when he could get away from his uncles, whisking you away to the safe parts of town where no one knew him.

"My dad, D," you sighed and looked behind you out of habit.

"It's only for an hour or two. He won't know, I promise." Biting your lip, you finally nod, quickly shutting the window.

Minutes later after a long detailed excuse you ran out of the back door, tugging on your jacket. It was actually Dympna's coat that was draped across your shoulders, he gave it to you one cold night while stargazing on the outskirts of town. "M'lady," he greeted as you collided with his chest.

Your warmth soothed the cold iron gate of his heart, allowing you in with a simple hug, your breath tickling the side of his neck. "Where are we going?" you asked as you pulled away.

Dympna took a step back, holding his hand out for you, "Somewhere your old man won't find us. Let's get out of here, yeah?"

There was no hesitation as you took his hand, letting him lead you to the bright red car your relationship grew in. You loved the nights in the passenger seat as he drove you miles, hours away from the harsh town. You got to see the real man in the driver's seat, his laugh as pure as the dawn of a new morning. He wasn't like them with their lifeless eyes and failing livers and hands that were forever stained with crimson.

"Put this on," he said over the stereo and roar of the engine, tossing a blindfold into your lap. You looked down from the greenery to the black bandana in your lap. The thumping of your heart was now almost as loud as the bass from the song.

A small wave of panic flowed through you. What if the blond in the driver's seat was taking you to your death? No, no. He liked you, he was different. Dympna wanted to protect you from his family. Betrayal sat back in the deepest depths of your mind, but it was still there. It didn't help that Dympna looked nervous, his fingers tapping the steering wheel and his leg bouncing wildly.

He quickly looked over, "Put it on, love."

Your lips parted, eyebrows raised in fear "Dym-"

"Do you trust me?" His voice was soft and kind, instantly pulling you out of your fears. Nodding, you tied the bandana around your eyes after taking in a deep inhale.

You didn't know how long it had been before the car came to an abrupt stop. Squirming in your seat as he uttered a quick apology, getting out of the car. That sudden wave crashed into again as Dympna opened your door, gently pulling you out by the arm. The thoughts inside your head were running wild as he lead you blindly.

It's ok, it's ok, you thought to yourself as you stumbled along the rocky path. You heard his instructions, nervously following them. He guided you up a few steps and inside a building. When his arm left you, the panic really set in, you might be met with a firing squad for all you know.

"Alright," he sighed, his voice a small distance away, "you can take it off now."

Shakingly your hands rose to the blindfold. Your worst fears subsided when you saw the familiar abandoned train car. Dympna stood in the middle, his fingers nervously toying with the sleeves of his brown sweater. Next to him on the ground was the most beautiful setup. A clear vase full of your favorite flowers sat in the middle of plates and bowls of your favorite foods, a red and white checkered blanket protecting it all from the dusty floor.

"Y-you did all this for me?" You asked him in shock, your smile widening along with his.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Y/N," he said, a blush rising to his cheeks.

You couldn't walk to him fast enough, placing your hands on his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his soft lips. His rough hands that felt way too much found their way to your lower back underneath the coat, his fingertips sparking a fire on your skin. "It's going to get cold," you giggle as you part.

Taking your places on the blanket you two finally got to relax. He opened up about his days that were spent apart from you, doing his best to keep the subject off the family business. It was second nature and it would slip, you winced in between sips of beer at the story of him beating someone up at the bar.

"Did you make any of this?" you asked, quickly changing the subject.

Dympna shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, "No," he laughed nervously, "Ehm, I didn't need all the girls askin' questions. I picked it all up this morning. Went to that diner you like so much."

You smiled sweetly and picked up one of the plastic containers, "Smells good though, little fawn," you giggled. He smiled at the nickname you had for him and threw his head back bashfully.

After you two polished off whatever was left in the tins, Dympna laid his head in your lap as you took a sprig of baby's breath and broke it into pieces to place in parts of his hair. The golden light from the sun coming through the graffitied window illuminated his face, your free hand grazing over the tattoo by his eye and the small scar below it. The silence was comfortable, it always was with him.

His blue eyes looked up to you, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "Would you like your present?" he asked with that tinge of nerves back in his voice. You nodded eagerly and wiggled in your seat.

Dympna quickly sat up facing you, crossing his legs. He inhaled deeply as he stuck his hand inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a little red box. His eyes followed you as you took it into your palm.

Inside the little box was a silver necklace with a small circle silver pendant, "Oh, Dympna," you cooed as you looked at the engraved image. The outline of a fawn with a sun behind it sat in the center of the pendant.

He rose to his knees and moved behind you, taking the necklace out of the box. "Since you can't wear my name or anythin'... I thought this would be nice. I mean, if you want."

You nodded and leaned back slightly, allowing him to place the necklace around your neck. "It's perfect," you whisper.

After you heard the clasp close, you rose to your feet, pulling your boyfriend up with you. "There's something I've been meanin' to tell you," he managed. He felt like his throat was about to close up.

Tilting your head, you took his hand into yours, "You alright?"

"Y/N I... I. Fuck!" he shouted, ripping his hand out of yours, walking away in frustration. You flinched at the sudden outburst, taking a step back.

"It's ok," you reassured him as you watched him pace, "we've got time."

"I wanted this to be perfect, I didn't wanna fuck up like this," he seethed.

You shook your head and slowly started to approach him. "It is perfect, little fawn."

He turned to you with red cheeks, anger etched on his face. "I'm tryin' to tell you how I feel about you and I stutter like a fuckin' idiot. I've never said it before. Not like this." Your head snapped up, your brain piecing together what words wanted to escape his lips.

"Dympna," you said calmly, "It's just us, I wanna hear it."

He unclenched his jaw and let you take his hands in yours again. He was a pile of nerves as he looked at you. You were pure, the best thing that had ever happened to him and this shithole of a town. You were a light that guided him from the darkness of his family. You were his sun. Dympna swallowed hard, lips parted to speak, "I'm in love with you, Y/N."

"I'm in love with you, Dympna. I think I have been since we met," you scrunched your nose and leaned in. He met you halfway, his lips gliding over yours delicately. He detangled one of his hands and weaved his fingers into your hair, drawing you in closer. Your hands trailed up his clothed arms to place them on his neck. The cold of the necklace had finally disappeared, another source of warmth now on your skin.