#(but yeah this is the first actually cold i think i've gotten in like a year or so orz)

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[arokalypse]

i always thought romantic love was the plague and i was a plague doctor.

so here's an aro-colored plague doctor

me oversharing beneath the cut about how amatonormativity has screwed me up in ways I have never been screwed up before.

(rant beneath the cut is full of negativity, triggering, but perhaps relatable. idk. read at your own risk)

okay so let's have a mini story telling time about how romance plagued every aspect of my life until now.

My bestfriend in high school treated me of less value after she gets her boyfriend. This experience was what drove me into drawing plague doctors during valentines. These doodles were captioned with "Plague is in the air", because my friends in my circle told me to not hang out with her on that day because it's valentines day. So cool, I thought I should avoid them like they were the plague.

For the first half of college, I've been a wingman for way too many of my friends for my only female and best friend.

It has gotten to a point where the meaning of my companionship with my male friends had become solely for providing a connection to a girl they want to date.

In the long run, my bestfriend, who my 'friends' were pining for, actually has been pining for me. She asked if we could be a thing, I said yes because I thought that, romance isn't probably as disgusting as I think of it.

To protect tradition and to protect the feelings of the men she rejected (who I also wingmanned), we kept it hidden.

For the entire time, she emphasized how I was dense and oblivious about romance. For the entire time I was confused, disoriented, and even repulsed. I didn't know how to reciprocate and I certainly did not have THOSE feelings either at all.

Of course it didn't end well.

After that failed attempt at romance, I have been involved in three more encounters after that. Men suddenly started talking to me out of nowhere. Initially, I thought that they were just trying to make new friends. I didn't realize they were hitting on me but when I did, I cold-shouldered them out of my life.

The last one was the most traumatic. I have explicitly stated that he shouldn't attempt to romance me because I've admitted that I'm way too tired of dealing with it, but he was stubborn. He has also gone as far as sexualizing me against my will.

So yeah.

Amatonormativity made me lose faith in the meaning of my friendships.

It made me realize how friendship is easily overshadowed by romantic relationships.

It made me worry that my kindness is misread as a romantic gesture.

It made me constantly hate how friendship is only seen as a stepping stone for a romantic relationship.

And because amatonormativity has rendered all my significant connections meaningless, I'll spend every second of my life hating amatonormativity. I will always be repulsed at the concept that destroyed every goddamned friendship that I had. Nothing has ever made me feel THS sick. I will always think of it as the plague.

[edgeray]

Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔  Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth? 

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content. 

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling. 

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time. 

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched. 

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino. 

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.  

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. 

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm? 

It's warm. 

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms. 

— 

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House. 

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty. 

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone? 

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet. 

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud. 

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial. 

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so. 

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply. 

Arlecchino feels cold. 

[mythicmanuscripts]

What do we think about the boys with a Stark Spouse who brings a lot of blankets and furs from home to add to the bed? Especially with Aemond slowly growing closer they first seek out their blankets for comfort meanwhile Aegon and Jayce are just face planting into them after a hard day.

Love your writing btw!

This idea is so fucking cute I adore this.

I've kept this answer SFW but we can absolutely continue this concept into NSFW themes so if anyone would like to read that or has their own thoughts on it, let me know!

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

AEGON:

So my immediate thought here was that you'd bring one of your blankets to your new shared quarters with Aegon. Even though you weren't actually staying there with him every night yet, you just wanted one of your comfort blankets there. Aegon immediately zeros in on it when he first enters the room and that's when your realise that he might have a thing for soft textures.

As you get closer, you have a servant put one of the blankets on the bed in his private quarters for him. When he spots it he literally just stands in his room crying for a little while until he composes himself enough to go looking for you and thank you.

Once you get closer, Aegon absolutely loves stealing all the blankets and nuzzling against them. You keep on adding more blankets thinking he can't possibly steal all of them and you keep on being proved wrong. Of course he can steal all of them.

And when Aegon discovers the absolutely incredible sensory experience of cuddling you naked with one of the blankets wrapped around you both? Well good luck because he's just found his sleeping position for the rest of his life.

JACE:

I don't know why, but I like the idea that Jace gets very cold very easily? Especially before falling asleep. And he's also very particular about fabrics and how they feel against his skin.

You learn both of these things before you marry him during the countless hours you spend chatting and getting to know one another, and so at some point during that time you gift Jace one of your favourite blankets. At first he tries to say he couldnt possibly accept this from you but then you promise him that he can put pack on your joint bed after the wedding and well... he blushes so hard he has to hide behind the blanket.

So anyway, yeah he loves them too. I also think he'd put blankets all around your chambers? There's always a blanket on your favourite reading chair or at your dressing table, just in case.

Also, because Jace is a gentleman at heart, he always ensures you're nice and warm before bed. Even if you've just wrecked him, he'll still double check you arent cold and that there isnt any part of you the blanket isnt covering. He takes is very personally if you get cold, absolutely not he must ensure you are always comfy.

AEMOND:

Aemond wouldnt even know about your blankets at first because he most certainly wouldnt even consider entering your private quarters for the longest time. Even when you get married, he's still very strict about only ever going to your shared quarters and having a servant summon you there.

As you get closer though, I think maybe he'd find himself outside your room? He didnt mean to, but he was so frustrated, (Sidenote: I think one of the first things Aemond realises when he meets you is that you just... get him? You never ever make him feel frustrated, you always understand him, he never has to explain himself to you or worry about you being confused when he tells you things). So one day when he really was considering just pushing Aegon off a balcony, he finds himself outside your quarters, like his subconscious knew he would only be able to relax in your presence.

You're surprised to see him, but you let him in of course. You pull him onto your bed, letting him cuddle up to you and discuss what's gotten him so worked up. Once he's sitting on the bed, he kinda just strokes the blankets in awe? He's never felt something so soft before, and when you notice his reaction you immensely grab another blanket and wrap it around him. He pulls it tighter over his shoulders and leans against you.

After that, Aemond comes over to your quarters every single night before bed. He'd lay in bed with you and discuss his day, hearing your advice and listening to you telling him about your day. Even when things get sexual, he still comes to your private quarters first and then goes with you to your shared chambers. You try to say he must just summon you to the shared chambers because then it would be much easier but he refuses.

The way I picture it is that Aemond's actual quarters and your assigned shared quarters would be near Aegon and Alicent's quarters? All the most important people are close together and very well guarded. Before your marriage to Aemond you stayed in one of the guest rooms that were on the other side of the keep. Aemond absolutely loves this, loves that he can come to you and be comfortable and he feels so much safer because his family is physically further away.

(One last sidenote: maybe you track down a floor or tower that hasn't been used for years in the keep and you get the servants to help you make it into a living space for you and Aemond? It's far far away from everyone else and the only people with keys are you and him)

[incorporealbombchelle]

Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down and we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans answers the door, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest with a hint of vanilla.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles and his smile is warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing masters program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip and my eyes follow its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses and his cheshire smirk is enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face is hot and my body is tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and lets his head tip against the back of the couch. I feel him twitch inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop and his grip on my neck releases some and I feel warm and hazy as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and I struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"I needed that so badly."

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 3

(2:21 am) I just realized something (2:21 am) Ur a cooking teacher (2:22 am) Who can't fry a egg (2:23 am) You're a fraud 🫵

[7:29 am] I can fry an egg just fine I just can't make the yolks runny. It's too hard to time it right. And why are you up thinking about eggs at 2 am?

(7:47 am) I was up thinking about you at 2 am

Steve felt his stomach flip as he sipped his coffee and set his belongings down in his classroom. Eddie didn't play games. He always said exactly what he was thinking. And it drew Steve wild.

(7:48 am) And about how your students might clown on you for not being able to scramble an egg

[7:49] Aww you're worried about me?

(7:49 am) Kids can be little monsters (7:50 am) Actually how old are the little monsters you teach?

[7:51] Youngest is 6 and oldest is 14. Speaking of, they'll be arriving soon so...

(7:52 am) Godspeed you academic warrior

Eddie didn't typically text so late on weeknights. Not since learning Steve was a teacher. It was just that he truly HAD been up and thinking of him. Steve drove him crazy and he thought he was doing a good job keeping a lid on it. 2 am texts were what happened when the lid got loose but Steve didn't seem put off by it.

At about half past three, Steve called him. Eddie was glad he made that leap with his first call. The sound of Steve's voice never failed to warm him through. Eddie was in the middle of collecting axes for sharpening at the end of his shift.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?", Eddie greeted as he picked up.

"Today was good. Had a really riveting conversation about meatloaf versus pate with the kids", Steve said.

"Meatloaf rocks and pate is just cold meatloaf for rich people. End of discussion."

"Well, we talked about it for like fifteen minutes. Had a real interesting tangent on forcemeats in general."

Eddie paused. "Excuse me?"

"You'd be surprised at what kids are into. This one I taught last year was really into rice-"

"I need you to backtrack just a bit. 'Forcemeat'?"

"Yeah it's-oh grow up", Steve chided while shaking his head. He had just gotten home and was taking off his work clothes for something more comfortable. He thought about what Eddie might think he'd look nice in. "Not even my 12 year olds are this childish."

There was something about the way Steve talked about his students. Like they were his actual children. The conversation continued for a few minutes more before Steve suddenly had to hang up. Eddie tried not to think much of it, but it wasn't the first time that it had happened.

Steve ended the call just as Robin came into the apartment. She narrowed her eyes at him, then looked to the phone in his hand. Steve hid it behind his back and winced at practically telling on himself.

"You're hiding something."

"No I'm not."

"And now you're lying to me."

"No I'm not!"

Robin pounced and wrestled him for the phone. It wasn't a real fight of course. Steve could've pinned her in seconds but a part of him was tired of keeping the secret. And obviously, she knew how to unlock his phone.

"Who's Eddie?", she asked, sitting on his back triumphantly.

"A guy."

"Thank you, I had no idea it could be a man's name. You've been texting him aaaaaaa llllllllllllot."

"Are you reading them!? Robin!"

"Where did you meet him?", Robin said as she got up, continuing to read through their conversations.

"I um, technically, haven't. Yet."

Robin gave him an odd look and Steve spilled everything to her. To her credit, Robin listened to the full story before throwing one of the couch pillows at him.

"Stephen Elliott Harrington! Did no one teach you stranger danger? You just kept texting him? And calling? And I saw the pictures you sent. You know he can find out where we live? What if I came home to your skinless corpse??!"

It went on for a while like that and when Robin was finished, she collapsed onto the couch. Steve sat across from her on the coffee table. He waited for her to silently process it all.

"You think he's cute?"

"What I've seen of him, yeah."

Robin sighed. "I can't believe you're turning into the guy who has a internet girlfriend."

Steve rolled his eyes but then balked when she started to read through his messages again.

"And I can't believe you haven't even started flirting yet."

"I've been flirting with him the whole time!" Maybe not the whole time but-

"You're giving him Diet Steve. Why are you holding back?"

Steve shrugged, looking sheepish now. Now Robin was rolling her eyes.

"Steve, we're getting you a date."

"But he's-"

"A virtual one. Jesus is he an axe murderer?", Robin said as she looked to one of the texts.

"No, he just works with them. Axes! Not murderers."

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

Eddie was about to sit down to a movie when his phone buzzed.

[5:17 pm] Thinking about you.

Oh. Now that was some text to get.

(5:18 pm) Oh yeah? (5:18 pm) What about me?

Steve looked to Robin. They were sitting cross-legged next to each other on his bed.

"What do I say?"

"Be honest, duh."

"If I'm honest I'm gonna talk about his hands."

Robin shook her hands at him like she wanted to wring his neck. Steve got the idea and decided to put himself out there.

[5:21 pm] Your hands. I think about them a lot actually

Eddie had not given his own hands much thought. But knowing that Steve admired them, he gave them a second look. He thought about them gripping Steve's thighs.

(5:23) You're gonna make me blush (5:24) What would you do with my hands Stevie?

Steve panicked and looked to Robin. "Are we sexting? Is he getting me to sext?"

"That's the idea, dingus. I said I was getting you a date. Now tell him what you want him to do."

"I don't know I'd....I'd want to..." Steve trailed off, looking at his phone while the fingers of his other hand brushed against his lips.

Robin stole the phone from him again and started typing. "'First...I'd suck..on them'."

"Robin!"

"Is that not what you want?"

Steve shrugged and Robin continued. "You've got me on the clock for five more minutes before I go out. You dictate, I'll type."

Steve hated how much he liked the idea. Especially when he heard the ping of Eddie's reply. "What did he say?"

Robin cleared her throat. "'Yeah? You wanna suck on them? I bet you got a beautiful mouth.' Oh he's good."

"Yeah", Steve breathed out. "Really good." He thought about Eddie sticking his fingers in and pressing down on his tongue, his rings tasting metallic and so nice.

"'I wanna choke on them'", Robin said out loud as she typed. "Is it too soon to call him Daddy?"

"What?!" That snapped Steve out of it.

"Oh come on. Tattoos, the hair, his job. He wants to be called Daddy."

"Robin don't call him Daddy."

"Pops?"

Steve took his phone from her and looked to Eddie's reply.

(5:30 pm) I'd only choke you if you were being bad (5:30 pm) Are you gonna be bad baby?

[5:31 pm] Maybe. I can be good too. So good.

(5:32 pm) Lemme call you baby wanna hear you

Steve dialed without hesitation just as Robin was leaving. Her work was done.

"Don't get murdered while I'm out!", she shouted just as Eddie picked up.

"Hey pretty baby", Eddie said.

"Hey. You said you wanted to hear me?"

"Yeah. I wanna hear you say those things with your own voice."

"Like how I wanna choke on your fingers? Among other things?"

Steve could hear Eddie let out a breath on the other end. The power he felt right now was intoxicating.

"Bet you'd look so good on your knees."

Steve hummed while pressing his fingertips to his lips. If Eddie asked, he'd suck on them. Let the wet noises fill his ears, let Eddie know how good he could be.

"Darlin' you went quiet."

"I'm thinking", Steve said, laying down on his bed. "I wanna show you, Eddie."

Eddie swallowed. This man would be the death of him. He'd nearly jerked off to just a picture of his fully clothed lower half. If he saw more...if he saw everything-

"Eddie! We've got a Code Red!"

"Jesus! Knock!"

Steve sat up quick at the shouting coming from Eddie's end. It sounded like someone had barged in.

"Eddie?"

"Sorry. Sorry Steve. I gotta handle something. Um, call you back? Please?"

"Eddie, I want to video call you."

"V..video...?"

"Yes. I wanna see you. Please."

"Yes. Yes, a thousand times-hold your horses! Uh, tomorrow? It's Saturday, so you're free, right? Can we make it a date?"

"A date", Steve nodded. "I'll see you then. I'll be thinking of you."

"And I'll be counting the seconds. 1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one th-ouch! Okay! Damn!"

Eddie hung up and Steve still had the phone to his ear, smiling. He had a video call date. He had a date with Eddie!

Shit what should he wear?

Part 5

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[lightlycareless]

omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit

Heya anon!!

I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol

I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...

Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')

Happy reading!

As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.

“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”

“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”

“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”

But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.

A supposed act of mercy.

He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?

But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.

Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.

And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.

Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.

He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…

But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

And thus….

“…Naoya?”

“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”

“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”

And… where does everything you lived with him stand?

The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…

And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…

Was it… all … a lie?

All for… nothing?

Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?

“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”

Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.

Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.

Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.

And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.

The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.

The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.

Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.

You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.

That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.

It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.

When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?

Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.

You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.

It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.

A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.

…

Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?

Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?

There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…

Maybe ex-husband, by this point.

All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.

The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.

And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.

Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.

Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.

But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.

As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.

But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.

You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.

From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.

Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.

However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!

And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.

“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.

“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.

“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”

“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.

“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”

Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.

He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.

Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.

For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.

And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

Or so he believed.

Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.

Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.

But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.

Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.

In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.

Nothing.

And no one had seen you either.

Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.

At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.

The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…

And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.

“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”

“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.

“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”

“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”

Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.

No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.

Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.

It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.

“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.

“Get—get away from me.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.

“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”

“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”

“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”

It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.

Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.

But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.

“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”

“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”

“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.

“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”

“…I know.”

“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!

But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!

 Did he never—did he even love me?”

Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.

And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.

He wanted to do it; you know?

He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.

But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.

If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.

Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.

Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”

And unlike your husband, he means it.

Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.

Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...

agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!

Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️

[grimesgirll]

the first time you saw rick in his constable uniform, you thought you were going to have to go to your room to cool down.

clean shaven, hair trimmed, iron pressed uniform clad rick grimes was a sight to behold. having known him just as he was a mere week or two ago, you wouldn't have expected him to be an officer of the law.

truth be told, you found that version of rick wildly hot. he was passionate. he was protective of not just you but judith, carl, the group. purpose looked great on him however it manifested.

but you also loved this domestic version of rick. watching him feed judith at a marble countertop was surreal. you hadn't known him when he was a clean-cut suburban dad, just as a survivor. rick really brought out your thing for men in uniforms though. you'd thought it was a one off thing when you'd hit on a state game warden after he came to dispatch the deer you hit with your car in the past but constable rick had him beat.

you never thought you'd see rick in a tie. you think about how he would've looked at your sorority formal as he brushes past you in the kitchen, immediately knowing what's up when your eyes don't leave him as you start to plate the brownies you just pulled out of the oven.

"like what you see?"

you smile. "yeah." you hold up a freshly cut brownie. "rick, can you try a bite? let me know if they're still hot? i don't wanna burn my tongue."

rick takes a step closer to lean in and take a mouthful of your brownie. "mmm," he hums. "delicious. not too hot. not for you." you gleam at the praise. "thank you, darlin'," he whispers huskily to you.

"you're welcome, officer."

you watch something shift in his eyes as he pops the rest of the brownie into his mouth. "i thought you didn't like cops."

"i never said that," you attest. "i've never said a bad word about a constable in my life," you swear, putting the plate of brownies down to step closer to rick, who begins to play with the buttons on your cardigan.

"really?"

"mhmm." you run your hands along his tie. "i enjoy the uniform."

"do you?"

you nod, hands working up to his chestnut curls. "did they give you handcuffs?"

rick chuckles at you. "those are for official constable business, not playin' around."

"i'm not playing around," you whisper in his ear. "what's it take to get a girl arrested around here?"

not much apparently because all you had to do was start pulling on his tie to get dragged to the upstairs bedroom and thrown on the bed. with a hand cuffed to the bedpost, all you could do was squirm as alexandria's newest constable stripped you from the waist down.

"how many do you want?" rick asks once he's gotten your pants down and he's running his hand on your ass.

you shrug. "you choose, officer."

"bad choice," he remarks and pulls you over his lap to get a better angle. "actually, i think you'll like this."

smack!

you wince. you can't remember the last time you were spanked but you know you're gonna remember this for sure, if not purely by the memory, then by the handprints that were already forming on your plush ass as rick gives you another round.

as you twist and writhe in his grasp, rick starts to get impatient, wishing you were squirming on a specific part of him. he lowers his lips to your ear. "are you ready to be a good girl?" he asks.

you nod your head up and down. "i've always been your good girl," you breathe, slightly tensing when you feel his hand on your bottom again.

"good."

with that, he flips you back face down onto the bed and you hear the metallic clank of his belt buckle. it's not ten seconds later that you feel him against your wet hole. as you feel the cold air on, you realize how wet you are; rick's behind you drawing circles in your slick with his dick while you whine into the duvet.

"rick," you start, voice low and needy.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"i want you, rick." you answer with an exhale. "i'm so wet for you."

"i can see, honey."

"then fuck me!"

"maybe ask the constable nicely."

you can hear the smugness in his voice and it goes straight to your cunt.

"constable grimes," you croon. "can you please fuck me?"

you don't have time to hear his answer because the wind is knocked out of you - there it is. you're knocked halfway up the bed as the constable fucks into you roughly.

"how do you like that, sweetheart?" he inquires, breath warm against your neck as he keeps pushing all the right buttons inside of you.

"mhmmm," you murmur. "feel so full."

"good."

you were so developing a thing for men in uniform.

[seiwas]

HI MY BELOVED ANGEL!!! i am sending u mattsun + campfire as well as kisses n hugs <33

SAINTTT hello 🥺 thank you for sending a prompty!! 🥹 idt i've ever written mattsun fully before so this is something new!

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: exes, stranded-y situation, feelings are complicated, some expletives

mattsun + campfire

"i told you we should've brought the spare—"

"yeah, let me go back in time for a sec and do just that."

"asshole."

lesson #1: nothing good ever happens when you're stuck in a car with your ex on the way to somewhere remote.

you blame iwaizumi for this one. who the fuck chooses to spend their birthday weekend in the fucking wilderness?

(okay, you don't actually think it's so bad. to be fair, he did plan this a year ago. and it did sound like a good idea. then. at the time. anywhere with the boys was always guaranteed fun―at least, until you and matsukawa broke up.)

"can you pass me the flashlight?" he points at the backpack behind you. when you hand it over, your fingers brush over his as he takes it away from you.

and you hate it, because―

lesson #2: you should never be alone with your ex when you still have feelings for them.

you'd agreed to take two cars to the camping spot: iwaizumi's with oikawa and hanamaki and matsukawa's with you. there was no way you'd fit in one, and hanamaki ultimately decided to ride with iwaizumi because, "you and mattsun have shit to sort out," he'd said.

with night setting and the two-hour headstart they managed to get ahead of you, the best thing you and matsukawa can do is to set up camp temporarily and wait for them to come back for you come sunrise.

you sigh.

leaves crack underneath your feet as you maneuver around your camping space. the light from matsukawa's flashlight tells you where he is, just a bit deeper in the forestry as he looks for wood to help set up the fire.

you unload the car in the meantime, bringing out some snacks and sleeping bags while waiting.

matsukawa eventually comes back with arms full of wood, and you help in whatever way you can, clearing the space and fetching more twigs when needed.

the entire car ride here had been quiet, so it's not surprising that this entire process has been equally as silent. until―

"did you already pull out your tent?" he asks, half of his body disappearing into the trunk of the car.

"huh?" you go closer, "i only brought out the sleeping bags."

then he sighs, ducking out from the trunk with a hand on his hip, "we only have one tent."

"what?"

"makki must have gotten yours with his when he decided to move cars."

his hand runs through his hair, a habit you know well. it lights up all sorts of weird feelings in your tummy

you don't know how to feel―

"i can sleep in the car."

―but you know that you definitely don't want him to do that. all things considered, you were friends first. and you've both been trying to be friends again since the breakup. you wouldn't want to cause him discomfort like that.

so, with a deep breath, you say, "it's okay, we can just share."

"are you sure?" he stares at you.

you nod.

after setting up the tent, you eat a few energy bars and clean up from the day's events. the campfire provides ample enough heat, but with how fast the flames are burning, you're doubtful it'll last the two of you the entire night.

it’s much later on, past midnight, that your doubts are proven right when you and matsukawa are cramped together in a tent made for one. it started to get cold a few minutes ago, and you've found yourself inching closer and closer to the warmth you’ve gotten used to laying against for the past two years.

he's only pretending to be asleep, you know that much, too. the rise and fall of his chest is hardly there; you can see it, how he's holding his breath being this close to you.

"issei," you whisper.

he opens his eyes, eyelids lifting lazily as he meets your stare. the vibration of his hum reverberates to you.

"it's cold."

for a moment, your stomach drops at the thought that he could ignore you; how it would make perfect sense for him to. you broke up with him after all, and he doesn't owe you anything, much less favors as intimate as this one.

but he closes the already dwindling gap between you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer. it's near, far too near for exes to be―noses touching and all.

"warmer?" his voice comes out hoarser through the whisper.

you nod, your head shifting up and down—which, truly, is where you ultimately fuck up. you feel it, a little chapped but still pliant against your lips.

in your carelessness, you accidentally brush your lips against his, the sensation alone surprising you enough to inch your head back as you mutter your apologies.

"sorry? really?" he asks, eyes half-lidded still as he chuckles.

his question settles into the small space you're in.

your vision trails from his eyes, down to the slope of his nose, until it lands on his lips again. a little split like you've always known, but still your favorite. still the only lips you want against yours.

when you lean in again, you know you're fucked, because―

lesson #3: the number one rule is that exes shouldn't kiss each other anymore.

[foxaftershocks]

Hi!! I just wanna say first that I absolutely adore ur writing :) and I've literally never done this before, tbh, so I'm so sry if I've done anything wrong or smth. :)

But I wanted to suggest maybe a reader thats also an engineer and scientist for the Ghostbusters, who Lars always considered less able than him since reader was quite quiet, and would run their expermients in peace, never rly interacting with people. Until one day reader is talking to lucky or phoebe or smth, and goes off on a tangent when talking abt smth they're working on, and it's a very sudden realisation to him that reader is actually rly knowledgeable, that their intelligence is much greater than he anticipated.

Totally fine if u don't wanna write it, remember to take care of urself!! <3

I always take care of myself <3 you did nothing wrong, a totally perfect request. I hope you like it

You were sitting across the room from Lars, absorbed in your work, headphones on as your head nodded in time to the beat of whatever music you were listening to. He hadn’t heard you arrive that morning. Not an unusual situation. He never heard much from you ever.

You seemed to be so unaware of his gaze on you, watching as your hands moved, fingers typing, adjusting your equipment, writing something down in a notebook. That was something he’d noticed. You kept paper notes.

Insane. Absolutely nuts.

Your head tilted up and he realised he’d been caught watching. His nose wrinkled and he looked back to his own work. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t busy. He had enough to get on with.

There was no reason for you to be there. He kept trying to figure out what it was you did, what you contributed to the lab. You kept to yourself and no one else could tell him what it was you did. You preferred to work alone, and while he could empathise with that as someone who didn’t love working in a team, he did enjoy leading a team of researchers. You’d never agreed to joining him.

He had to assume it’s because you knew you weren’t up to the task.

When he next looked up, you were gone. The workstation was empty and there was nothing to indicate where you’d gone. He couldn’t imagine you were rushing off to tell someone of a great discovery.

You’d never had one before now.

It wasn’t that he felt contempt for you. Surely there was a reason you’d been hired. He just thought everyone should be on his level and you just weren’t. The proof was in the output.

Stretching, arms above his head, he figured it was time for another cup of tea, the one he’d made earlier having gotten cold as he lost himself in his work. Taking the mug, he sauntered towards the small kitchen set up in the back corner.

“So if I can just figure out where the spectrometer has gone then I think I’ll be back on track.”

He paused outside the door. That was your voice. At least, he was pretty sure it was. From the few times he’d heard it he thought it probably was.

There was something there in your voice, not something he’d heard from you before. It was close to excitement. Lingering out of sight, he continued to listen. He certainly wasn’t about to offer the information that he had the spectrometer you were looking for. It would be put to better work in his possession.

“You really think you’ll be able to figure it out?” That would be Lucky. He didn’t realise the two of you talked. Lucky was meant to be his intern, not yours. He didn’t know why it rankled him so much.

“Sure. I mean, Nadeem keeps letting me study him to figure out where the source of his magic is so… I can’t see why I wouldn’t,” you said, “oh but you remember when I hooked him up to the EEG machine?”

“Yeah. You got those weird readings, right?” Lucky prompted.

“Right and I spent hours staring at them trying to work it out. And then inspiration struck. So I thought maybe there was some kind of electrical field going on. Which would be crazy because usually we don’t think the two are linked. But fire conducts electricity and so can humans. So what if the magic is connected to ions? Seems simple, right? Only, the electrical charge usually comes from the gas around the flame rather than the flame itself. So does he actually manipulate the gas? Or, is it this pyrotron subatomic particle we haven’t found yet? I mean, in order to prove that one I have to find quarks in isolation and I think that would rock the science community more than proving the science behind pyrokinesis,” you said, almost all in one breath.

It was easily the most he’d ever heard you say before.

“Because in order to prove that I’d need to show that Nadeem is manipulating pyrotrons with psychic powers, probably through the electric signals in his brain, and making them hit isolated quarks, which don’t exist so… I’m back to looking at electricity in flames because clearly it’s to do with the electrical activity in his brain,” you said, with a sigh at the end.

Lars felt his breath catch. There was so much going on in your brain, so many thoughts, so many theories, and you were investigating something he hadn’t even considered looking at. Maybe that’s why you always worked alone. Your projects were on things no one considered researching. You looked at the world differently.

It was… refreshing.

He’d thought you’d ket silent because you knew you couldn’t keep up with the rest of the scientists. Instead, it looked as if you kept silent because your research was so different from everyone else’s. They were so focused on ghosts. You were trying to understand everything in its entirety.

He felt dumbstruck. Everything he thought he knew was wrong. It wasn’t usual for him and he felt on the backfoot. It was like you’d been lying to him but for that to be true you would have had to have talked to him. This was so much worse. This was him lying to himself.

You were so much smarter than he’d thought and it left him questioning so many things.

Walking through the door, he felt combative, like he wanted to start a fight. Your voice died as he did, eyes widening when you saw him. He offered a tight smile, pouring out the cold tea into the sink. He glanced over his shoulder, finding you turning away.

“I’ll see you later,” you mumbled to Lucky.

You slipped out of the room, not even offering him another look. He scrubbed at the mug, not wanting to bother making another cup, taking his frustration out on it.

“Rough day?” Lucky asked, sliding up to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied.

“No sweat,” she said, “but maybe don’t glare at people when you enter a room. It sure does clear it.”

He didn’t have a response to that, refusing to be shamed by a teenager. He left the mug on the rack to dry and walked out of the room, lips pursed, trying to work out how to feel about everything. He wasn’t used to feeling stupid and yet that’s where he was. He’d judged you because he never heard you talk. Because you kept to yourself. Because you didn’t feel the need to show off like the others around the lab did.

You were sitting in his sight again, the headphones back in place over your ear, pen tapping your notebook in time with your music. You didn’t even look up when he sat down, staring at you. If he allowed himself to admit it, you were lovely to look at. Even trapped in a world of your own, there was something there that he found pleasing. You were soft, like the worries of the world had never curved your shoulders, and your wide eyed gaze left him feeling like there was no pretence. You had never lied. He’d just been a fool.

He stood, hands already grasping the spectrometer he’d stashed in the storage behind his desk. trying to project confidence, he sauntered over with it. Placing it down in front of you, he waited a moment for you to notice. Your gaze dragged up to him and once again he was struck by how lovely your face was. You were slow to tug he headphones off, leaving them hanging around your neck.

“I heard you were looking for this,” he said.

You looked down at the machine in front of you then back up to him. There was a slight curve to your lips, an almost smile marred with a hint of confusion. Your eyelashes fluttered and you tilted your head down, looking back to the spectrometer.

“Thank you,” you said, voice sweet.

It was a sudden thought that he could probably listen to you talk for hours. Not that he’d ever be offered the chance.

“And uh, if you ever need help or want to talk through anything.” His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this awkward since his university days, “I’m just over there. I don’t know if you know. You seem to keep to yourself. So maybe you don’t want the interruption. But yeah, I’m just over there if you need anything.”

Christ, he was rambling. It wasn’t like you were the first pretty girl he’d ever talked to. He didn’t even have a crush on you. What was wrong with him today?

“I’m sure you’re too busy to help me,” you replied, voice quiet and far more put together than him, “you’re always working on something.”

“Oh,” he said, shoulders deflating. You were being polite but of course you didn’t want his help. Especially when you seemed to be a genius in your own right and more than capable of being brilliant without his input.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But you’re working on important things and I don’t want to bother you with my stuff. You’re probably working on some new weapon that will save someone’s life or something. My stuff is pretty silly in comparison.” Your head was bowed and he wished he could see the expression in your eyes.

“All science is important,” he said.

“No, I know but you know, my stuff isn’t saving the world like yours so, I don’t want to take time away from that,” you said, voice growing quieter the further along you went.

“I’m always happy to help,” he said, hoping it would be enough.

Your eyes darted up to him and he saw panic there. He took a step back, reeling from the look. He knew he wasn’t always the friendliest guy but this was a not the kind of reaction he ever expected from his words, especially when they were meant to be nice. He took another step back.

“Right, well, I’ll stop bothering you,” he said.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he wandered back to his own station, shoulders curved forward, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Other than ignore you, he couldn’t think of anything you would know about. It’s not as if his thoughts were broadcast over the tannoy system.

Only he hadn’t really been ignoring you, had he? He’d noticed you enough to form an opinion. He watched you. He’d grown used to your habits. He thought about you. Earlier that day he’d been watching you. There was no way he could pretend like you had been a non-entity in his life.

When he looked up at you again, your head dipped down as if you’re been looking at him just a moment ago. He found a flutter in his stomach, like a butterfly taking flight. The thought of you watching him was pleasing. Unless it was because you were wary of him and felt you had to keep an eye on him.

Finally taking the chance, he went to make himself another cup of tea, if only to try and ease you again. Maybe his presence made you uncomfortable. He didn’t like the thought that he made you uncomfortable.

He decided perhaps to keep his distance for a while.

A few days and he stayed away. He didn’t try to engage you in conversation, allowing himself to watch you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. The more attention he paid, the more he realised exactly how wrong he’d been. You kept to yourself, but you were confident in what you were doing. Something had alighted in him, the flame fanned by your confidence. Someone so capable at science was a turn on. He hadn’t expected that. He should have. But he hadn’t.

And he should have expected to hear you in the kitchen again.

“I just find him really intimidating,” you said, just through the doorway.

“Why?” Lucky laughed.

“He’s so smart and I know you’re going to make fun of me for this, but he’s really handsome. I’ve never been good around smart pretty people,” you said.

He lent closer, wanting to hear more. He didn’t know who you were talking about and the thought someone else in the lab was receiving such compliments made him feel disgruntled.

“Just talk to him,” Lucky said, “he’s not that scary.”

“I can’t,” you whined, “I get all tongue tied around him and he offered to help me and I just… I totally put my foot in it.”

Who else had been offering you help? He would hunt them down and make it clear to stay away from you. Or, no, that would just make you more scared of him. He had to gentle dissuade them from helping you.

“Yeah, trust me, he’s done that plenty of times,” Lucky snorted, “seriously, just talk to him again. Two awkward nerds deserve each other.”

You gave a small chuckle and he could imagine the soft smile on you face, small, underfed, and yet still there.

“I didn’t think he even know I existed,” you eventually said.

“Look, Pinfield is awkward and not always nice. But it sounds like at the very least he’s never outright insulted you. That’s more than Dan over in R&D can say,” Lucky said.

Pinfield. He was Pinfield. You were talking about him.

“Yeah, well, you crush on guys who actually give you the time of day. I crush on the silent guy who’s science is brilliant but who couldn’t be bothered with so much as a hello,” you said.

That wasn’t true, was it? He’d offered you help. And then gone back to not talking to you at all. He’d gone about this all wrong.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you,” you said.

“No, you should take it out on him.”

This was met with silence before Lucky’s laughter burst out, loud and long and he could inly imagine the look on your face. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy… He was sure it would be… Well, he was very open to it if the chance arose.

He slipped away to mull over what he’d overheard. He intimidated you. Because you had a crush on him. And you thought he didn’t like you in any way, that he didn’t even notice you.

Yeah, he’d fucked that one up. No one but himself to blame.

He paid attention for when you returned to your work station, across the other side of the room, quiet and focused. And beautiful. How hadn’t he thought that before? Or rather, how hadn’t he noticed it?

He was so caught up in his own assumptions about you he hadn’t taken the time to notice. He cursed his past self for being so caught up in his own ego to notice what was sitting right under his nose.

Steeling himself, he rose and made his way over to you. He loitered across the bench from you. You were still listening to music and hadn’t seemed to notice him. Tapping his finger on your notebook, he tried to get your attention. You looked up, startled, eyes widening when you laid eyes on him.

“I was thinking of going out for lunch and was wondering if you wanted to join me,” he said, trying to sound confident but also approachable. He realised he was treating you like an animal prone to startling.

“Oh, uh, I actually brought lunch today,” you said.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, “I’d love to hear more about your work.”

“Why?” You sounded so bewildered it was almost offensive.

“I don’t know much about what you’ve been working on. Is it so odd I might want to know about it?” he asked.

“You’ve never asked before. Have I done something wrong? Because if I have I’m really sorry and I’ll stop doing whatever it is,” tumbled from your lips and he was reminded that you found him intimidating, “I really am sorry. If you just let me know what it is I can stop doing it.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he was quick to say before you could continue rambling an apology for something that hadn’t happened, “I’m just interested in what you’re working on.”

“Why?” You sounded defensive now.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was trying. He was really trying. And you just weren’t getting it. You were making it so difficult.

When he opened his eyes you were frozen, as if waiting to be told off. Taking a deep breath in, he offered you a smile, his best attempt as he tried to when he felt such roiling emotions.

“You’re an asset to our team and you’re working on things I’m not involved in. I’m curious. That’s all,” he said, desperate to put you at ease.

“Oh.” You voice was so quiet.

“If you don’t want my company I understand. I thought it would be nice to get to know one another a bit better. Whatever. I see I was wrong.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from you. He must have misheard. Clearly you and Lucky hadn’t been talking about him.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, looking back at you over his shoulder, “lunch would be nice.”

His shoulders relaxed and he let the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile. Your answering one stole his breath.

“Come on then,” he said.

You hopped off your stool and he realised you didn’t even come up to his shoulder. He could wrap you up in his arms and you would be completely engulfed in him. He found that thought tempting.

Walking beside him as you left the lab, you weren’t looking at him, gaze turned towards your feet. His hand closed around your arm, steering you in the right direction. You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His head dipped towards you, not able to stop himself. There was something about you.

He spent the entire lunch watching you, basking in your presence. You were slow to open up, answering his questions about your work softly. But once he got you going, your eyes sparked and the words tumbled from your lips faster than he could have thought possible. Your passion was clear and it only drew him in further.

“I dunno. Maybe’s its stupid,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid at all,” he said and noticed the way that seemed to turn you bashful. Your chin dipped and you couldn’t look at him. He lent forward again, over the table, trying to catch your eye, “you sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

It was a quick flash of a smile, that same piece of hair falling forward again. You reached up to tuck it back again but his fingers were already there, doing it for you. You looked up, mouth falling open but you didn’t seem to be drawing back from him. His fingertips brushed over your jaw before he retracted his hand, pulling it back to his side of the table.

“Oh,” you said, almost a whisper, practically nothing but the movement of lips without sound.

“I’d like to do this again,” he said, assuming honesty was better than beating around the bush.

The look of surprise that passed over your face wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. But then you softened, that small smile reappearing.

“Really?” you asked.

“Sure. I find myself fascinated by you,” he said.

“Like I’m one of your experiments?”

He hadn’t expected that.

“No. Christ no,” he said, perhaps louder than intended, “fascinated like I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Can you say something other than that,” he demanded, then realised that wasn’t a good idea, “please?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a shallow nod, “we can do this again.”

“We can?” He brightened, “we can.”

“But only because I like you too,” you said, not looking at him again.

So he had heard right. He felt a sense of satisfaction hearing the words from you. He would never admit it, but it wasn’t often someone liked him. Maybe that’s why he’d been doing so badly with you. Or not so badly since you were going to go out with him again.

He led you back to the lab, hand resting on the small of your back, the material of your jumper soft against his skin. You were half a step closer, leaning into his touch more.

It was a good sign.

Thank god he’s listened in to your conversation with Lucky otherwise he never would have been able to find you. And he thought you might be changing his life for the better. Your smile was already capable of brightening his day.

He was excited to see what was to come with you.

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 09

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

I went downstairs to see two of my estranged roommates, Allison and Luther with somber looks on their faces. I was about to speak up but stopped once I saw who they were looking at. It was Grace, who no longer moved or sang or comforted us.

She was dead, and I know robots aren’t alive but this felt like another death I'd have to witness.

“The two guys last night, the ones with the mask, did this to her,” Allison said to Luther. The two didn't look up to see me, both were in their heads at the death of their mother.

Grace was sitting in the painting room chair, the space we kids dubbed as her bedroom because she didn’t sleep or have one of her own. The only thing that was missing from her was her signature smile and her normal pale arm. Instead, her arm was sliced open by what looked like a knife and oozed out wires of all different colors.

I don’t remember the two gunmen carrying knives last night but who knows they could've gotten crafty. But It's sad to think If she was a real person, I would’ve been able to save her.

I made my presence known by stomping my shoe and moving closer to the pair. Allison's eyes slightly lit up once she saw me. “You’re okay!” She sighed happily.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I giggled with my arms open as she ran over to embrace me. Luther did not move from Grace's body though, his face was cold and distant. I didn't want to ask but I started to think, what happened last night?

“Oh god, have you seen Mom yet?” She whispered. “This has to do with Five somehow. I mean they were looking for him..”

I frowned. “I haven't seen him or Klaus in some time now and I'm starting to get nervous.”

Allison reassures me that they'll turn up but she turns back to Luther who has something to say. “I know I was arguing to turn Grace off, but it doesn't make seeing her like this any easier.”

“Poor Diego.” I blurt out. “This is gonna be so hard for him.” I couldn’t see eye to eye with him, like ever. But I did see him a bit differently after yesterday.

“Yeah, it's hard on all of us.” He says while walking out of Grace's room.

“Hey, wait,” I called out to Luther before he left. The giant man turns to look at me, uncertainly. “I know it was you last night, the one who saved me. I just want to say thank you for pulling that guy away from me.”

“You’ve saved me in my lifetime more times than I can count. I can tell something is off about you guys today and I don’t think I was awake to hear it but. I just wanted to say thanks.” I smile at him.

“But anyways you guys should talk. I'm going to go look for Klaus.” I shoot Allison one more goodbye before heading out.

“I'm glad you're okay, Y/n” I hear one of them mutter as I leave.

..

“Klaus?” I yell all around the mansion. By now I've checked all his normal spots. His room, my room, Ben’s room, the kitchen, Reginald’s bar, all the bathrooms and all the random nooks and crannies we'd hide in as children with Ben.

Ben.. to think I've been so preoccupied these past days to think about him. And I think about him all the time. He'd know where Klaus was instantly, he was just that type of person.

I go back upstairs to my room to change before heading outside. To check Klaus's frequent spots around town.

First, the alley where he'd buy drugs and all kinds of things. It was dingy and dark but I'd find him here a lot back when I was younger. I left the mansion but never left him. Even let him crash with me at my ex's house whenever he needed to, which my ex was never happy about. We found happiness in walking the streets and laughing with each other till sunrise.

But it wasn't always good, sometimes I'd catch him in a rough spot due to drugs and he'd push me away. I never stopped trying, I would never give up on him and he wouldn't if i was in his spot.

Next was my actual apartment. I hadn't been back in forever, maybe he got tired of the academy and came here? But my apartment was small and didn't have many places for him to hide, it was clear he wasn't there either.

The last place I could think of was a park we used to go to as kids. There'd be days when Reginald was less diligent about watching us, and after dark all of us kids would escape to come here. And have at least a few hours of solace before returning to hell.

I took a seat against a large tree that blocked the sunlight from shining in the park. He wasn't anywhere I'd known he would be. I thought he wouldn't leave town without telling me, but I'm not even sure. I let out small huffs of frustration as I buried my head in my hands.

Suddenly there were more tears on my head than there were in my eyes. I sniffle while looking up. The once-cloudy sky has turned into pouring rain and I'm outside without an umbrella.

..

14 YEARS AGO

“Are we ready to go?” Asked Klaus.

The three of us, Klaus, Ben and I decided we were leaving for the park. After a particularly hard day and mission, it was clear I needed out. Ben asked everyone if they wanted to go, but they all looked at each other then us and snickered.

They told us we should go just the two of us. We actually were about to leave, but Klaus was the only one stupid enough to join us. Just kidding.

The sky was clear this day but dark, meaning it was a clear indication that it was time. Diego and Allison told us they'd distract Reginald if he asked anything. We knew we couldn't go out the front door, instead we went out my window.

Klaus was the first one to jump down; he insisted that he was the bravest out of all of us. And Ben slowly followed after him.

That left me in the window, looking down at the very tall jump I'd have to land. I shook my head at the two. “Why couldn't we have left down Five's window? There are actual steps there!” I whisper yell.

Klaus chuckles. “We're already here, just jump!”

I know when jumping from a high distance without a cushion landing spot, it would help if you didn't look down. But my eyes were glued to the ground anyway. I would be fine if I jumped, any scars would go away but just the thought of it made me shake.

“Unless you're a chicken! That's okay, me and Benny will go without you.” He yells.

“Keep your voice down,” Ben says, elbowing him in the stomach. “Ow!” Klaus cries. Ben looks up at me. “But he's got the right idea! You'll be okay just jump.” He says stuffing his hands in his black jacket.

“Just go without me! I'll go to bed.” I reply, trying to smile at the pair.

“Y/n, listen to me. You'll be okay, jump and..” I didn't hear the last part of what he said.

“What??!” I yell.

“He said he's gonna catch you!” Klaus snickers. “Shut up Klaus,” Ben whispers back. “I will though, if I have to!”

I sigh not wanting to ruin their fun, I'm the one who wanted to go out anyway. “Okay, I'll jump.”

I take a small running start before leaping out of my large window. The wind in my hair felt great, it made me feel like I was almost flying. Until I looked down at the floor I was about to land on. I closed my eyes as I was about to scream and go head-first into the ground. But as I opened my eyes I saw that the cement never smacked me in the face. Instead, I land on someone else.

Ben tried his best but he is still a boy. He held his arms open but it ended with him knocking into the cement and me gripping onto his black hoodie for dear life. I quickly get off him and pull him to his feet as Klaus hollers in laughter at us.

Once he got up I could tell that Ben's head looked a little bruised as well as his hands. I placed my hands on his and watched as yellow wisps of light reached all of his bruises. "Thanks." He smiled and I nodded back. I stopped holding his hands when I heard Klaus almost falling back in laughter.

"You guys-" I cut him off before he embarrasses me by kicking him in the shins with all my might. "Not another word," I mutter.

He held onto his legs and whimpered in pain, now it was our turn to laugh at him on the way to the park. I did eventually heal him that day but seeing him embarrassed was too funny to see go away. We did this several more times, just the three of us. And honestly, it was probably more fun than the whole group.

..

PRESENT DAY

I laugh underneath the now suddenly wilting tree at the thought, but it slowly turns into sobs. I don't have Ben anymore but I've somewhat come to understand that, but now I lost Klaus too. And Vanya is gone, I'm truly all alone. I sit there for what I think is hours, thinking back. Until the constant pour turns into drizzling and I stand up to go back to the academy. Maybe take a bath.

I slowly made it to a crosswalk so lost in thought that I didn't even see that it said I can go. But I am brought back to reality by the sound of a honking car. Some dick in a van was honking his horn at me?

What I did to piss this guy off I do not know, this was above even a catcall. He was demanding I move. Deciding to ignore the shithead I start to cross the road, until he almost runs me over.

“There's a crosswalk sign, do you see that?” I yell at the van. But the ugly vehicle would not stop honking at me, after being soaked in the rain I'm starting to lose my sanity. So I walked over to the van, thinking I was going to lay into this man and give him all the rage I'd been feeling. And maybe kick his car a few times.

I look at the man's window to see it's not a man at all. It's a boy? I know this shithead. “Five? Why are you honking at me!” I scream at the pubescent boy.

“Get in.” He yells back.

..

The two of us sat in silence for a while. I watched this fake teenager drive around and honk at people who were being stupid like a full-grown adult.

“Why are you here?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable in my wet clothes. “I'm looking for someone, I saw you walking.” He mutters.

“Oh okay..” I pause.

“I was calling your name before I started honking at you. You should really look where you're going.”

“I was fine. Aren't you the one who tried to run me over?”

“...”

“I have a question. Where'd you steal this van?”

“I didn't steal it, I borrowed it from a man in an alley.” he insisted. “Very likely story Five,” I remark back.

“I'm going to give it back. whenever I'm done with it.

“Okay new question, how do you know how to drive?”

“I can do everything.”

I scoff. “Yeah okay.”

“Well, I have a question for you. Why are you walking alone without an umbrella?”

“Just for shits and giggles, I'm looking for Klaus, have you seen him?”

“Can't say that I have. Where do you want me to drop you off?” He says while taking a familiar path that will lead us back to the academy.

I turn to look at him with my eyebrows furrowed. “Can't I stay? Join you on your spy missions?” Five looks at me, clearly not keeping his eyes on the road. Almost in shock about me wanting to stay with him. To break the silence I force a cough. “I mean I don't know what else to do right now. I can leave If I'm cramping your style.”

“Okay” is all he says while turning in the opposite direction from the mansion. “Well, that means we are going to find someone.”

“Who?” I ask.

“You'll see,” Five tells me.

Five parked us in another familiar part of town, where Klaus, him and I were not even a day or two ago. “Oh no, Five we're gonna terrorize these people again?” I said while looking around.

“No, we're just going after the main man. I need more answers.” Five peers out the side window to look at a different busy street.

“You really think he's going to give you more information if you just barge into his office again?”

He turns back to me. “We're not going in, we're going to him.”

“Oh my god..”

Five explains that he plans to corner the man in his own car after he comes back from whatever hobby he does while out of the office. I try to tell him that this plan is going to go wrong but of course he doesn't listen. He reached into his glove compartment and grabbed a small pocket knife, and I'm sure he didn't just grab it to look cool.

“You told me you're going to ask for more information, Five,” I questioned while reaching for the knife.

He grabs the weapon back and holds it higher in the air. “Let's see where the night takes us.”

..

Five blinks him and I next to a tree, like the one I was at earlier. The tree faces a blue car that must've belonged to the guy whose name slipped my mind.

Not long after he walks toward us, with a tiny puppy in hand. He looked almost unrecognizable out of his lab coat, but not in a good way. His clothes reminded me of a jogging outfit they also matched his blue car.

He opens the car and places his puppy into the back seat then he starts to get into the car himself. Before he can sit down Five pulls me with him when he blinks into the car. Sitting me down in the backseat with the puppy who surprisingly is not barking at me yet.

Five blinks into the front seat, but the man doesn't even notice him. Only flinching back when Five lunges at him with his pocket knife.

“Oh, Jesus!” He cries out. Five doesn't even give him another moment to think before going straight into grilling. “One chance. That's all you got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab.” He yells, putting the knife up to the man's throat.

So much for the peaceful approach. The man moves his eyes towards me for a split second and then back to the terrifying Five. “I… I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market.” He stutters.

“including eyeballs?” Five asked.

The man gulps. “Yeah, they're my biggest seller. I mean they sell like hotcakes. I--I've got a list, a waiting list, probably twenty buyers.”

“So the serial number, my uh, brother gave you..” He finishes my sentence. “Could've already been bought. Yes, off– off the books.” He says.

Five huffs like he's a chain smoker and starts to get more tense, letting the knife get centimeters away from the man's skin.

“I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!” Five screeches.

I take my eyes off them to turn to the dog that's nearing closer to me. At first, I tried to keep my distance but this puppy insisted on getting close. Which shouldn't be a big problem. It's a small dog, but something was off. I'm squeezing myself practically against the door to get away from this dog but he keeps getting closer. I close my eyes and I'm back to that day so many years ago.

I'm not there anymore, it's time for me to move on but I can't. My hands start to shake and my body runs cold. I couldn't help but think that this dog knew what I did to the other, way back when and wanted to take revenge.

While taking deep breaths I turned my head slowly to get a better look at the pup.. this dog wasn't going to hurt me, it didn't know what I did, and I was okay. So why do I feel like this?

“I don't have it. I mean, not on me. The only copy is in my safe at the lab.” Lance's words break my deep breaths and I try once again to focus on their conversation. This is for Five, as well as saving the world. Letting my depressing nature go is what I need to do now.

“Well, you start the car, then.” Five whispers. “Cause we're going on a field trip.” He slowly takes the knife off Lance's throat.

“O-Okay...” Lance tries to put himself back together at least enough to put his seatbelt on.

“Now.”

“Okay..”

..

Lance drives us back to the MeriTech headquarters which is also where Five’s van is. I'm the first to hop out of the car with Five and Lance a few steps behind me.

But I stopped in place once I saw dark smoke coming from the building. “Something’s wrong,” I told five. But he never stopped walking, and without a second thought, he rushed over to the fire. “Five wait!” I called out while chasing him down. Leaving Lance to his own devices.

The angry flames weren’t just in one room, it had spread throughout every single room in the building making it impossible to go inside. Five stopped at the entrance of the building when I caught up with him. We both stared at the building on fire.

“Get down!” I screamed over the sound of burning rooms as I tackled him to the ground. The flames rose from not just the building but towards us, causing an explosion of fire that could’ve killed him.

He wailed out at the sudden burst, but safely hit the ground. Me on the other hand, I was covered in marks. But thankfully my clothes were no longer wet, just slowly catching on fire. I dragged him out of the way more towards the street as I heard sirens in the distance.

“We need to move now,” I stress to Five but he doesn’t reply back. His eyes never break from the fire. “I know, I know but let’s go,” I say again hoping he would budge this time. But he didn't, so I grabbed him and pulled him back over to the van.

Once we get to the van without Lance, it is clear that whoever had lit the building on fire knew we were there. And I knew that because the front window was fogged with a message.

It read. “Your brother says hi.. brother? Which one.” I say out loud while thinking. Five finally started to move from his motionless state when I looked over at him. But he wouldn't be any help right now. The look on his face and the dullness in his eyes was a look I've seen on many people's faces before.

But then it hit me. “Klaus.”

…

Would you wanna be on a taglist for this story? Say taglist in comments

[palmastrings]

Solomon and Levi play Beat saber

For @ificouldbringyouback

@obeymeholidayexchange

The song used for this is called "Crazzee Boi". Feel free to listen to that

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

Solomon, for the first time in a while, had finally gotten a day off this weekend that wasn't saturated in RAD homework or cleaning up the messes of his demonic or angelic neighbors. Usually, on days like this, he'd resign himself to some cooking, maybe some magical research or experiments, challenging Thirteen to a ‘friendly’ game over his life candle, or simply enjoying the weather, perhaps in the human world. Solomon laid back in bed, musing over the potential activities he could schedule for the day. What did it matter? He had all day to think about it, no need to rush. Solomon fumbled with his DDD, reaching out for it in the darkness of his room. 

It was only 7 am.

 Solomon smiled and tucked himself under his covers, safe from the colder air of his room, and gently placed his DDD back on his nightstand humming a song of sleep to himself.

No sooner had he done that, his DDD rang incessantly.

Solomon reached back for his device to be met with Leviathan's name and his hilariously assigned profile picture of his stressed face while losing a game of chess to Solomon – a game that Leviathan had challenged him to. Picking up the phone, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Solomon, hey! I'm kinda impressed you answered, tbh. You never really seemed like the morning-type to me. Uh, anyways, glad you picked up. You aren't busy today, right?”

Solomon thought for a moment. “You've actually caught me on one of my off days, so yeah, I can make some time. What is it you need?”

“Can you head over here in a few hours? I'll tell you why once you get here.”

 And with that, Levi hung up. Solomon wasn't sure why Levi would withhold the reason for requesting his company unless Levi felt like Solomon would disapprove in any other situation. He’d humor him, though. 

Solomon rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched. His body made a plethora of back-breaking sounds that any person would find very squeamish to hear. Ah, the consequences of old age. He started his shower cold, brushed out his white hair with less care than Asmo would approve of, and dressed in more casual clothes than he would normally find himself wearing on a busy day. By the time he cooked and served himself his signature breakfast of his secret ingredient red pancakes and aged, burn-to-a-crisp mini griffin eggs, the time had come for him to head out and meet Levi.

Oddly enough, he found Levi waiting for him at the main entrance of the House of Lamentation. Levi wore uncharacteristically athletic clothing with an anime-themed headband around his forehead, his bangs hiding whatever character was featured on it. Solomon kinda hoped he wasn't going to run some recreational marathon with Levi. His poor old man bones cant take it. He'd been spending a lot of time at his desk rather than in the great outdoors. Maybe the impending dread of what this could be is a sign for him to get back into shape. Ah, well, at least he’d last longer than Levi in a run.

Levi waved Solomon over. As Solomon approached, Levi handed him a device in each hand.

“I can't believe you made it! I was beginning to doubt you would really make the time to meet me, of all people, here on your day off. You truly are a real one, Solomon.”

“Ahaha, you flatter me, Leviathan, I really don't mind at all. But what am I doing here exactly?”

“Well, I'm so glad you asked, Solomon. I invited you here because one of the games I've been playing recently got a new DLC update, and in order to get all of the achievements, I needed another player.”

“Super, but, out of curiosity, why me?” Solomon asked. “I'm sure your brothers would be just as available to play with you.”

“That's why you're different. I called upon you, The Wise King Solomon, for your magical prowess and efficiency!” Levi exclaimed.

“As per usual,” he sighed. “So, what are we playing?”

Levi held up his PC that he had also brought out with him, featuring the title screen ‘Beat Slayer’.

“Isn't it supposed to be Beat Saber?” Solomon inquired.

“What?”

“Never mind.” It seems the Devildom has its own version of human games.

Levi spoke again, “Okay, so the rules are pretty simple. You're gonna hold two sabers in your hands. Music will play in the background while little demonic cubes with teeth fly at you following the rhythm of the music,”

“Wait, wha-”

“You also need to dodge the walls and avoid hitting the bombs. It's pretty self-explanatory. Oh, and you also gain bonus points if you imbue magic into your attacks when the beat drops. Got it? Great!” Levi then proceeded to hand Solomon some enchanted glasses, then ran over to his PC to set things up.

“Aren't there supposed to be VR headsets? What's with these glasses?”

Levi replied while still facing the laptop. “Uh, no? Those glasses are just for setting up the background. It's aesthetic. By the way, I'm putting this on extra hard mode so just be aware you might actually get hurt when doing this.”

“They're real?”

“On any other difficulty they would be illusions, but I need this achievement on the highest difficulty so the game actually summons creatures to fight, walls, etcetera.”

“That sounds like a liability concern.”

“It's Hell, nobody really does that here lol.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Solomon slipped on the glasses as Levi prepared to start, equipped with his own sabers.

It was a magical sight to behold, which says a lot seeing how much Solomon had witnessed. The world glowed an ethereal purple hue, slowly beating to a non-rhythm. Beams of light danced aimlessly, without music to follow. Two yellow sabers illuminated in his hand like bars of gold. Mammon had probably used these before him. 

He knew he was still in the front yard of the House of Lamentation, but here, the world felt otherworldly, an open plane of soft light swimming across his field of vision.

“Ready?” Levi asked.

“Ready as I'll ever be for my first try.” Solomon smiled.

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love

The first cube came, and, as Levi foretold, came fast with a row of awaiting teeth. Solomon struck through it and followed a line of light so he could slash the second one and the few that came after it. Levi, beside him, moved in sync, their movements mimicking each other.

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy

This didn't seem so terrible, Solomon noted. Not that the thought would last for long, as off in the distance, a barrage of attacks came hurling towards the both of them.

Mohm eh buhl tah oleui nun Guh ttam that fire Mah-eum jahkoo ttulyuh suh Geh sok olyuh higher Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun b boi swag You think you got it but boy I got it like that

“Bonus points, Solomon, get ready!” Levi called. 

Solomon turned to face Levi. Levi stood there with his arms reeled back. His eyes under his glasses glowed orange, with an aura that Solomon could only recognize when Levi was feeling super intense. Looking back at Levi’s saber, Solomon noticed splashes of water appearing out of the air.

 ‘Right, Levi commands the sea, so it makes sense that most of his spells would be water-related’.

 Although that brought the drawback of Solomon's magic being slightly weaker near the presence of the ocean. He figured he’d be fine. Solomon readied himself, feeling the familiar spark of magic in the palms of his hands. He squeezed the handle of his sabers tightly. Finally, when the cubes came close enough, the two were in sync as they struck down. From his peripheral vision, Solomon could see a wave of water follow Levi’s swing, and it effortlessly carved the cube in twain. Solomon followed suit, a glimmer of silver light echoed in his slash. This was a lot more fun than he expected going into this. A side step to the left, and a wall sped by him. 

While most people would be content to brush Levi off for his deemed “childish” hobbies, there was real value in the games he played, whether that be the stories they tell, or the competitive fire that set ablaze in his bones. Something was always new when you visited Levi, it's a shame that Levi tended not to see these qualities in himself like others have.

Myuh ppun ee ruhn mahl hae yah dweh nun deh Turn it up, listen up (okay)

A bomb raced down the path, and the sorcerer only had a second to react and move out of the way. It just barely grazed his hair before it blew up a few feet behind him. The bombs were terribly sensitive. The flames of the explosion didn't touch him though. When he turned back, a wall of water created a barrier between the detonation and Solomon. While Solomon wasn't necessarily worried about the explosion to begin with – he always walks around with a protective spell on him for any and all occasions – he was grateful for Levi's quick reaction time. He turned to him, and they both gave each other a mutual nod of thanks. The music continued playing. Slash 1, 2, 3 cubes, sidestep the wall, avoid the 1, 2, 3 bombs. The lightshow around them beat brighter and faster with the music, and the aimless rays of light from earlier finally moved with purpose.

 Muhn chah boneh ji mah I'm sick and tired of you blowing up My jeonhwa cchok pal ee ji doh an hae Ee tah go boh yuh jool soo in nun play boi swag You think you got it no boy I got it like that

Solomon could feel the sweat gather around his neck. If Levi had told him he’d be so active, he wouldn't have worn a turtleneck. Levi, meanwhile, seemed great. As unathletic as he is, the desire to earn this achievement outclassed his need to stay confined to the comfort and safety of his room. He was actually quite elated to be able to do something like this with someone who seemed to match his own vigor at wanting to win this game. Levi called the dormant magic within him, it bubbled out and came crashing down in walls of water, decimating anything that came to him with a single, clean stroke. Likewise, Solomon put the strength of 1,000 years of sorcery into his own strikes.

As the song neared its end, they kept up the pressure; it became harder to keep up the pace. A cube almost bit a chunk out of Levi’s shoulder if Solomon had not stabbed it, and at this point, the explosions became a constant every few seconds as the music sped up faster. Until finally…

Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my love Oh I think you're crazy Can't have my heart So crazy boy

Together, calling upon the final burst of magic they had, they struck the final cube right down the middle as it burst into sparks as it passed behind them. They both heaved for breath. Solomon wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his face, while Levi almost collapsed on the ground. Levi slipped off his glasses and made his way to his PC. He cheered gleefully at whatever was on his screen. Solomon could only assume it was his newest achievement. He found himself smiling with Levi too. For being a totally unplanned event, this day off ended up being an irreplaceable memory. The little things like this are what made Solomon's life truly worth living to its fullest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[blluespirit]

TL;DR: Zuko is not winning any Liar of the Year awards here, but he's by not a ‘bad liar’ either. He's also (apparently surprisingly) not sharing his every deep-seated thought and feeling to anyone and everyone and can in fact, keep a secret.

a canon vs fanon Zuko thing thing I see fairly often that I personally disagree with is that Zuko is constantly over-sharing and telling people too much about himself and his problems.

People love to use the Book 1 finale incident when he talks to Aang's unconscious body in the cave, but that feels like a bizarre example because... he's more talking to himself. He's not really talking to Aang. Aang can't hear him. Aang is literally none the wiser. It's not an inappropriate time or person or unreciprocated, and honestly the whole thing is more for the audience to get a sense of what in gods green earth is going through Zuko's mind considering how reckless this action was. And even if Aang was awake I still don't know if you could call it oversharing considering Aang has genuinely tried to reach out to Zuko before and tried to understand him (e.g., the Blue Spirit). Of all people, Aang would likely be the most receptive. Like... net zero information gained...

I've seen people use some examples with Iroh which I personally think is pretty ridiculous to count because it's not like he's saying anything Iroh doesn't already know??? Iroh is like the only one in Zuko's orbit who actually knew all the details about his banishment and trauma. I don't know how any scene Zuko could have with Iroh that you could call over-sharing. Zuko also never said shit to his crew about any of his past for like. two whole years. The most they thought of him was angry and spoiled. They didn't actually know anything about him. like... at all. Jee thought his scar was from a training accident.

People like to also use the scene on the ship with Mai in Book 3 when Zuko is returning to the Fire Nation, but even that feels like a bit of a stretch. Yeah, Mai dismisses him and tries to play it off, but nothing Zuko says feels 'too personal' especially when Mai is supposed to be his girlfriend and Zuko has literally not been home in three years. Telling your girlfriend/someone you trust how you feel in a obviously emotionally turbulent situation is not sharing too much, no matter their reaction or whether they asked first.

MAI: Aren't you cold? ZUKO: I've got a lot on my mind. It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed. MAI: [Yawns.] I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story. [Zuko frowns at her sarcastic response. Mai giggles and holds his face in her hands.] MAI: Stop worrying.

Another example I see is when Zuko rants to the badgerfrog. Again, not really an example since the badgerfrog is not a person and the story needed Zuko to Say Things Out Loud so we have some clue about what he's thinking. It's the same thing with the unconscious Aang. It's not oversharing. It's venting. And once again - net zero information achieved!!

Like, none of these instances feel like he's revealed too much information. None of it feels inappropriate in the context of the story.

I think people get 'over-sharer' and 'openly wearing your emotions' lines confused sometimes, but even that gets misconstrued in fandom.

I don't think that Zuko being more open with his emotions than other characters is an incorrect conclusion to make, however, I think there's something to be said about Zuko in book 1 and 2 using anger and rage as a coping mechanism rather than being vulnerable with his emotions.

Zuko will talk about his feelings a lot more in Book 3, which is actually super important to his arc, since he doesn't actually talk about his feelings in a real way in Book 1 and 2 (he's angry most of the time, and the only times I can remember when he does really talk about how he actually feels is usually when things have gotten Real Bad like when Zhao takes his ship or it's the anniversary of his banishment). In Book 3, he's really thinking and reflecting on how he feels and how he felt in different situations.

Even the 'Zuko is a bad liar' gets WAY over-played in fanon!

Yeah Zuko is not great at thinking on his feet when confronted, but it seems very context dependent, actually.

When in dangerous situations, while he's definitely not winning any Best Liar Ever Awards, he's not a bumbling fool either -

Zuko lies to Zhao about the Blue Spirit swords:

ZHAO: I didn't know you were skilled with broadswords, Prince Zuko. ZUKO: I'm not. They're antiques. Just decorative.

While not ultimately convincing, his delivery of it is far from terrible. The circumstances are against him here, though, after all, there are few people who hate Zhao enough to commit treason to stop him from capturing the Avatar than Zuko.

Zuko lies to Zhao about having found the Avatar:

ZHAO: [Pulls up alongside Zuko and smirks.] Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue. So, how is your search for the Avatar going? ZUKO: [Aggressively.] We haven't found him yet. ZHAO: Did you really expect to? The Avatar died a hundred years ago. [Close-up of Zuko, as he slants his eyes.] Along with the rest of the airbenders. [Close-up of Zhao, whose face contorts in an evil expression.] Unless you have found some evidence that the Avatar is alive? ZUKO: [Faces Zhao and responds very clearly.] No. [Stares back in front of him.] Nothing. ZHAO: [With an expression of disbelief on his face, as he rises from his chair.] Prince Zuko, the Avatar is the only one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning this war. [Leans in and faces Zuko.] If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you'll tell me what you found. ZUKO: I haven't found [Looks up at Zhao and his tone becomes slightly more aggressive.] anything. [Close-up, as he continues on a softer tone, slightly mockingly.] It's like you said. The Avatar probably died a long time ago. [Gets up.] Come on, Uncle, we're going.

I'm not trying to say Zuko is secretly this great liar, but his effort here is commendable. It's his directness that gives him away, but he's not afraid, or nervous, or stumbling over his words like he's often portrayed to be.

Zuko confidently lies to Jet about not being a firebender:

[while on the ferry; you can see Zuko thinks for a second Jet knows who he really is. Jet doesn't pick up on this, and Zuko plays off his fear].

JET: You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will. ZUKO: I've realized lately that being on your own isn't always the best path.

[during Zuko and Jet's fight]

JET: Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now. [As Jet swings at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabs one of his broadswords through the hilt, pinning it to the ground. Jet looks at it with annoyance before focusing back on Zuko.] ZUKO: You're the one who needs help.

Zuko, throughout these interactions, plays off Jet's comments. He's learnt to be vague sometimes (like on the ferry to Ba Sing Se) and be confident when refuting someone. Yeah Zuko did go straight for Bodily Harm but that's very on brand to me.

Zuko lies to Chit Sang about the escape plan without hesitation:

SUKI: But how are you going to get the cooler out? CHIT SANG: [From the staircase.] Yeah, how are you going to get the cooler out? [Jumps down.] SOKKA: [Covering up.] What? We didn't ... w-we didn't say that. ZUKO: Yeah, you heard wrong. CHIT SANG: I heard you hatching an escape plan, and I want in. ZUKO: [stern] There's nothing to get in on. SOKKA: Yeah, the only thing we're hatching is ... an egg? [Zuko lowers his head and Suki covers her eyes while they both sigh in annoyance.]

Zuko comes up with a lie to tell the guards at the Boiling Rock about keeping his helmet on:

MALE GUARD: Hey, new guy! I know it's the rule to have your helmet on at all times, but this is the lounge. Relax. ZUKO: [plays it up] But what if there's an incident? If I'm not prepared, someone could strike me on the head. [The guards laugh.] FEMALE GUARD: Give it a week, he'll loosen up.

However, Zuko most often has the most difficulty lying to people who are kind to him (and who are Azula tbh) -

In Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko and Iroh are now refugees and Zuko bungles this conversation with Song:

ZUKO: [Nervously] Yes, we're travellers. SONG: you have names? ZUKO: Names? Of course we have names. I'm, uh ... Lee and this is my Uncle, uh ... Mushi?

In Tales of Ba Sing Se, Zuko struggles to find even ground with Jin and doesn't know how to answer her questions:

ZUKO: You have ... quite an appetite for a girl. [He fiddles his thumbs awkwardly.] JIN: [Uncomfortably.] Umm ... thanks? So, Lee, where were you and your uncle living before you came here? ZUKO: Umm ... well, we've been traveling around for a long time. JIN: Oh. Why were you traveling so much? ZUKO: We were ... uh, part of this traveling circus. JIN: Really? What did you do? Wait, lemme guess. [She thinks for a moment and quickly points at him.] You juggled! ZUKO: [Zuko folds his arms and looks annoyed.] Yes, I juggled.

In Zuko Alone, he's at a loss for words when asked his name:

SELA: Does this guy have a name? ZUKO: [Nervously.] I'm... uh... GANSU: [Off-camera.] He doesn't have to say who he is if he doesn't want to, Sela. [Cuts to shot of him standing with his family.] Anyone who can hold his own against those bully soldiers is welcome here. Those men should be ashamed to wear Earth Kingdom uniforms.

Listen, he's not weaving any incredible tales here, but he's not this bumbling little uwu boy who's completely helpless without Iroh or the Gaang that for some reason is incredibly persistent in fan depictions of him.

[notreallysorryxx]

#"Fluffy"

You and Angel Dust dance in the rain and deal with the aftermath.

Characters: Angel Dust

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff! hehe

Note: I actually struggled writing the way he talks, so I barely gave him any dialogue. I apologise, but Hazbin Hotel characters are hard to write for. And also, I didn't really want to write Angel Dust smut because the poor man needs a break. So here's some innocent romance.

Words: 1k

There was something so morbidly beautiful about the red rain. When you had first arrived in Hell, you hated the rain. It had a disgusting metallic stench and it felt horrid on your skin. However, that was months or possibly years ago and your opinion had changed since then. Especially since you got to experience that with your lover, Angel Dust.

Walking down the sidewalk under an umbrella with him felt like Heaven, ironically enough. His presence was comforting, his silver tongue music to your ears. Angel always offered to hold the umbrella too, despite your protests. But you couldn't deny that it was easier for him to hold it because of his 4 arms. No matter where the two of you went, he kept one arm wrapped around you. Angel was clingy and you found it adorable. He wasn't just clingy, but he was rather protective of you too. The lecherous gaze of other sinners were always met with a glare from your boyfriend.

For once, the rain was bothering you. You just wanted a nice date at a local scenic spot. Well, as scenic as you could get in Hell. It was supposed to be romantic, something different than usual. There was no special occasion, you just wanted to spoil Angel. It was the most you could give him after he had been working all day.

Unfortunately, rain hadn't been on the forecast which meant you and Angel weren't prepared. Neither of you brought an umbrella. With a frown, you look up at the sky miserably. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, smiling absentmindedly.

"I've got an idea, toots," he winks. You're surprised when Angel offers one of his hands. "May I have this dance?" he asks teasingly. It's enough to tear a giggle from your lips, forgetting about the wretched weather. This isn't so bad, you think as you twirl in the rain with Angel. You could get used to this. Angel hums an unrecognisable tune as he dances with you, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

Multiple sinners around you were running for cover, but you ignored them. Forget everyone else, you were too enraptured in this dance with your lover.

You couldn't help the grin on your face as Angel dipped you. The both of you locked eyes, laughing. To bypassers, you probably look like idiots.

"Y'know, you're a pretty good dancer, babe," Angel coos, pressing a quick tiny kiss to your cheek. You scrunch up your nose from the ticklish feeling of his fluff. He chuckles at that, flicking your forehead.

Although it is fun dancing in the rain with the love of your life, it's probably not the best to stay in it. Despite being dead, sinners and hellborn still manage to get sick. You found out the hard way. A sneeze from you signals that yeah, you should both get back to the hotel.

Getting a taxi in Hell while it's raining is well... it's Hell. But Angel's popularity really helps in these scenarios. Even though you don't like using his popularity for benefits, you're thankful for it now. While the both of you sit in the back of the taxi cab, Angel holds you close to his fluffy chest. You let your face rest in his chest, nuzzling it.

Usually you'd both be bantering right now, but neither you nor Angel wants to ruin the peaceful atmosphere that's been provided by the rain.

The drive back to the hotel stays peaceful, Angel continuing to hold you close as you both shiver. It's cold now that you've gotten out of the rain. The jacket you had brought was soaked and couldn't be used for warmth anymore.

Finally arriving at the hotel, Angel carries you up the stairs and to his bedroom. You take a quick shower with Angel, drying him off. Drying him off is a longer process than drying off yourself. It's almost like wiping down a wet animal because of his fluff. But you don't mind how long it takes. It feels almost domestic.

You watch in the mirror as Angel stands still for you to dry off. He's adorable and you always tell him that. Though he never believes you. You're often rebuted by him.

"I ain't cute," he would grumble.

"Of course you are," you'd always respond.

With a smile on your face, you kiss his cheek, "Angel~"

Angel practically melts, leaning back into your arms as you dry him off. He lets out a content sigh.

"Hm?"

"You know I adore you, right? I love you so much," you croon, pinching his cheek slightly. "And I think you're adorable-"

"Ah, not this shit again."

The both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

"Just accept it. You're cute. Adorable. Precious."

"I told you, that I'm not fucking-"

You cut him off as you pepper kisses on his face, narrowly missing his lips. Angel tries to grab your cheeks to place a solid kiss on your lips but you manage to wriggle away somehow. You evade him playfully, blocking his kisses.

In the end, he gives up with an endearing pout. You take pity on him, finally giving him the kiss he so desperately wanted.

"Now will you accept it?" you ask cheekily.

"Absolutely not-!"

By some miracle, you finish drying each other off, switching into dry clothes. You just quickly grab something from the stash of clothes you keep in Angel's room.

Before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in fuzzy blankets as you cuddle. Angel has all four of his arms around you.

He keeps you close, letting your head rest on his chest. "If anyone's cute, it's you, babe," he murmurs softly, eyes closing contentedly.

You huff, "I'm not, you are-"

"Let's not turn this into a challenge, toots. Because you know I'd win, obviously."

"No, I'd win!"

"In your dreams, loser-"

Safe to say that this argument lasted until the two of you passed out from exhaustion, still snuggled up together comfortably.

[mullermilkshake]

Twelve days of fluffmas

On the first day of fluffmas, my true love gave to me...

Yakuza!Toji being all cute and fluffy.

Day two

Yakuza!Toji x Fem!reader Tags: Yakuza AU, established relationship, slight angst, mature flirting, fluff, Christmas, feel good.

"Toji!" your voice was muffled from the bathroom.

"Yeah?" Toji had been ready for what seemed like the entire day, bored in the living area of the apartment fiddling with his pager and pressing random buttons so they made a little tune.

You emerged from the bathroom in a sequin body con dress, red like Christmas and short like Toji's patience. "Hair like this? Or like this?"

"It doesn't matter, doll. You're beautiful either way, can we go now?"

Toji didn't want to even leave the apartment today, not with all the snow and more that had been forecasted. There was no way you were going to stay warm enough in that either.

He just didn't want to come across as a dick. "Are you gonna be warm enough in that? There's more snow on the way."

"This? It's not what I'm wearing. I was in two minds what I wanted to wear. I think I'll go for pants and a blouse, I won't be long."

When your back was turned, Toji flopped back on the sofa and rubbed his face, glaring at the Christmas tree you put up in the corner over by the glass.

He didn't like Christmas as it is, the stupid parties everybody seemed to have to throw and get everyone drunk and stupid enough to cheat on their partners or wake up in some strangers bed with a hangover.

Whatever happened to eating at a restaurant, getting full as a stuffed pig on a roast and waddling home to sleep it all off? This party you wanted to go to was the only reason he agreed, because it was for you.

A Christmas party Geto was throwing. You only wanted to go to see his wife and the other wives and girlfriends you didn't see too much of. To be honest, Toji was surprised that Gojo's girlfriend was putting up with that idiot.

In the spirit of Christmas I guess. The holiday was charitable after all.

Toji supposed that it wasn't going to be all that bad seeing as Higuruma was coming, not that he spoke to anyone associated with the Yakuza when he wasn't fulfilling contracts. Higuruma was the least annoying.

That's why Toji was getting bored waiting, "Hurry up, Doll. They'll all be drunk by the time we get there!"

"I know, I'm going as quickly as I can!"

Not long after you reappeared again, coat in hand with your little bag over your shoulder in pants and a blouse like you had described.

Despite the cold, he was a little disappointed you still weren't wearing that red dress even with his reservations about the cold.

He shot up and moved to grab his keys and coat. "Wear that red dress when we get home, yeah?"

"You liked it then? I picked it up yesterday actually, but someone didn't want me wearing it," he could tell your tone was cheekily sarcastic.

"Mhm," he opened the front door for you and let you lead to the entrance. "I didn't want you freezing your tits off. It's a burden I'd have to bare keeping them warm personally."

"Well, you do have big hands, maybe I just shouldn't wear a bra and you can keep them up all day?"

That was an excellent suggestion. "Only for you, doll."

You stepped out of the ground floor entrance and snuggled into your coat, the snow collecting against your hair already, the neon lights brightening up your eyes in just the right way.

Waving your arm with yen bills in your hands left you smiling back at him. "Maybe I will wear it when we get home, that depends if you're good later."

"I'm always good."

"Mm, I don't know, does Santa know that? He's the one that'll give you presents."

Your first Christmas with Toji in this new apartment. Just as beautiful as the first day he met you, and here you were being a smart ass.

"I'm perfect," he wasn't. "And I've been incredibly good." ...Maybe

By now, you'd completely forgotten about hailing a taxi and faced Toji fully. The snowflakes had gotten thicker, now settling on your eyelashes as your hands found his body under his open coat.

"Thank you for doing this tonight, I know it isn't your scene and I appreciate the things you do for me. Everything. You're more perfect than you give yourself credit for, and I wouldn't be where I am now without you... I'm happy."

Would you be happy whenever you found out that Toji was Yakuza? Probably not. He would tell you eventually of all the horrid things did yet for now it would stay nestled under that other dishonestly tree for the time being.

Because right now, "I'm happy too."

Toji wanted nothing to change. You were so good for him and far too perfect for him. He couldn't bare letting you go.

Not now, not ever.

That was his Christmas wish.

Tag list ->

@izukuisbaby

[flowercrowngods]

in which steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

Steve is pulling up at the Hopper-Byers house around ten at night, hoping that El remembers their little date. Hoping even more that the Chief will let them do this.

The door opens before Steve so much as closes his car, and a very excited teenager already runs toward him, laughing when she crashes into his chest, the impact of which makes Steve stumble back against the car.

"Good evening to you, too, you little menace." He ruffles her hair, excited to see how long it's gotten again, a mop of wild curls.

"Hi," she says into his chest, hands hooked behind his back, and they just stand there and cuddle for a minute. The night air is refreshing after the day's boiling heat, and it's good to bask for a moment.

After a moment, Hopper appears in the front door, framed by the low light coming from inside, but even in the dark, Steve thinks he can make out the expression on the Chief's face. How he tries for stern, but can't quite manage it. Not when they've all been through so much.

"Hey, kid," he says, approaching the siblings where they are still hugging. "You looking to kidnap my daughter?"

"Yes, actually," Steve grins. "Will you let me?"

Hop gives a long-suffering sigh and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that I can't stop you from anything you set your mind to. So I don't think I've much of a choice in the matter, let alone a say."

El chuckles and leans up to press a little kiss to Hopper's cheek. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and Steve snickers. "Get out of my sight, you two, but I expect to see you both at breakfast tomorrow."

"Eleven o'clock," Steve says in lieu of a groan, because he loves Sunday breakfast at the Hopper-Byers' place.

"Eight."

"Ten-thirty."

"Nine-thirty, last offer. Take it or leave it, boy."

"Deal," Steve grins, then turns back to El. "You ready to go?"

She nods. "Ready." Then turns back to Hop and gives him another kiss to the cheek and a quick hug. "Goodnight, dad."

"Have a good night, kid." As El bounds around the car to jump in on the other side, Hop turns to Steve, who's already moving in for a hug, too. "You, too. Be careful."

"Always. It's just stars, though."

"I know. Still."

"I know."

It's good. The hug. The worry. The way they care and talk and accept. Makes Steve think that it was all worth it, sometimes. Moments like this, under the stars. He gets to have this.

The Chief lets him to eventually and then they're speeding off. Steve is taking El to the weather top in the middle of the night, snacks and drinks and blankets in the back of his car. Because El has never seen a shooting star, let alone a meteor shower. And Steve is dead set to change that.

The other kids are gonna be so jealous when they hear that Steve and El went to watch the stars fall from the sky (well, not really, but that's what it looks like, and that's what Eddie weaves into his stories sometimes), but Steve doesn't care. This is for El. This is for the little girl, injured and weak and frightened, and for the boy who taught her the meaning of magic.

This is only for them.

They don't trek up to the real weather top, since it would be too exhausting of a trip, and too dangerous in the dark. Instead, Steve parks on the open field of a smaller hill that offers them a perfect, uninterrupted view of the sky. No trees, no houses, no excess light to bother them.

"Yeah, this is perfect," he mutters as he kills the engine.

They spread out the blanket together right beside the car, grabbing snacks and drinks and more blankets in case they get cold at some point. El immediately lies down and reaches for some cookies while Steve goes back to the car, putting on one of their favourite tapes. Kim Wilde's 1982 album. One of El's first ever favourite albums.

It makes Steve smile, especially when he hears the excited squeal when the first notes carry through the air.

He eventually settles beside her on the blanket, the music just loud enough to create a nice atmosphere in the otherwise quiet night, and Steve already feels like there's something incredibly special about this moment.

And then El gasps. "Steve," she whispers, pointing up at the sky above them.

He can see the last remnants of the shooting star that lit up the the night and, most importantly, El's face. She's gripping him now, frantically scanning the sky for more, and Steve chuckles, moving his arm in her grip enough to take her hand if that's what she wants.

"What was that?" she asks.

"A shooting star," Steve explains. "They're not real stars, though. There are rocks floating around in space, and sometimes the Earth will move through, like, a chain of them, and then they burn up when they enter the Earth's atmosphere. That's what makes them look like that. Pretty, right?"

She's nodding, refusing to take her eyes away from the sky, and Steve settles back, too, getting more comfortable on the blanket. It's not long before the next shooting star appears - a larger one this time, cutting through half the night sky before it disappears.

"Wow," El whispers beside him, and Steve wants to burst at that genuine wonderment in her eyes, her voice, the way she's squeezing his hand.

"You get to make a wish when you see a shooting star."

"A wish?"

"Yeah. But don't tell me. It has to be a secret wish, and then maybe it'll come true."

At that, El nods solemnly, always so damn serious, like wishing on a shooting star deserves to be treated with the utmost care and calculation. Maybe it does. Steve won't judge. It's not like El grew up with many serious opportunities to make a wish, let alone make it freely.

"Can I wish something for you?" she interrupts that particular train of thought, and Steve stops short, looking at her.

"You wanna wish something for me?" She nods. "What would you wish for me?"

She meets his eyes with a little frown. "It's secret."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's okay."

Oh, he wants to burst again. But he only squeezes her hand. "Yeah, I think you can wish something for me."

And then she only smiles, and Steve wants to know, wants to ask, wants to be seen just a bit less, wants to exist only between the stars and the wishes that El could have for him.

He closes his eyes, focusing only on her gasps, her hums, her chuckles, her little wows, and he smiles.

Later, he tells her about the constellations he remembers. Some he made up himself. Some that Eddie made up. His heart jumps a little at the thought of the metalhead he never thought to fall in love with. Eddie who loves the stars, who knows so many seafarer's tales about them, mythology that Steve doesn't know if it's genuine or if Eddie made it up. If he's writing his own mythology. Steve wouldn't put it past him.

It's long after midnight and silence has settled between them, both of them somewhere deep inside their own heads, yet anchored in the moment, together. It's serene.

Maybe it's that serenity that gets Steve talking.

"Hey El?"

"Yes?"

"I kissed Eddie."

She gasps again, but not because of a shooting star this time, and turns to face him. "You kissed Eddie?"

"Yeah." The smile is on his lips before he can even try to fight it, and he finds that he doesn't want to. "I was really scared to do it. But it was good. I think..."

"Yeah?"

Steve exhales slowly, seeking solace in El's hand, who immediately squeezes his again, her other hand coming up to run through his hair. A calming motion that never fails to ground him. El is the only one allowed to do this, the only one who does it right. "I think I might have fallen in love with Eddie."

She nods, smile on her face, and then falls forward, head landing on his chest. They don't really have a sense of personal space around each other and Steve loves it, combing through her hair now -- a motion that is just as calming.

"That was my wish."

"Come again?"

"My wish. My shooting star wish," she says, shuffling so she can look at him without moving from her spot. "I wished that you'd smile like you did when you told me you kissed Eddie. And if he makes you smile, he can stay."

"You'll allow it, huh?" Steve chuckles, but El is dead serious when she nods.

"I'll allow it."

And his chuckle turns a bit more genuine now, his lungs filling with the perfection of this moment. He has people that are fiercely protective of him. He has a pretty boy willing to kiss him that he doesn't have to share with those people yet. He has the stars above, willing to grant wishes despite the horrors they know he's seen. And he has El.

In a way, it's really all he could wish for.

El stays the night at Steve's, though he has to carry her inside from his car and wake her like he used to. They share a bed like they used to, and in the morning she'll wear his clothes like she used to.

It's good. It's perfect. And when they arrive for breakfast at ten, Hopper doesn't even call them out on being late when he sees the happy, content smiles on their faces. He just very discreetly kicks Steve's butt, but he had that coming.