#(i admit that i skipped the first song i got on shuffle because i could not bring myself to subject you to a 5+ year old german meme song)

[umilily]

♫

(Wow that looks tiny. But 👁)

i-

[crimsonsabbath]

Double Life part 2 | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

Summary: After Eddie figures out your secret, you talk for hours, and then things get a little... heated 😳

Warnings: Mostly just fluff and smooching, Y/N having the mouth of a sailor

This is part 2! Read part 1 here

"I- it's not what it looks like” you stammered, your mind simultaneously racing and completely blank.

“Oh, it's not? Because,” he crooned as he shifted closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace until you were only inches apart.

“To me, it looks like our little Hawkins princess is secretly a freak. Just. Like. Me.” he whispered while emphasizing each of the last words with a poke to your chest.

You were completely frozen in place, eyes fixed on his chest because you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

“How does it work, love? Do you just slip into this little number on the weekends and hope to God no one from school will see you?” he was dangling your dress above you mockingly, a smirk plastered across his face.

You had never been this close to him before. You had never let yourself be this close- close enough that through your quickened breaths, you could smell him. The scent of cigarettes, weed, cheap cologne, and the slight hint of his green apple shampoo completely enveloped you. For fucks sake, you could even smell the mint gum in his mouth with him this close.

You were shocked out of your trace by his suddenly stern voice and the cold bite of his rings against your skin as his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Tell me.”, he basically growled.

You took a large step back with a sigh, reluctantly pulling yourself from his grip. Now free from his touch and his scent, your usual confidence came flooding back and you held his gaze. As you looked into his eyes, you saw a certain kindness, a softness you hadn't ever detected in him before. He wasn't judging you— he was intrigued. Enthralled, even.

Fuck it. You knew there was no getting out of this, and if someone were to find out, he would kind of be the best option.

“Okay, Munson. I guess it is what it looks like.”

All at once, you let your decoy persona crumble right in front of him.

You placed your hands on your hips as you smirked at him. “Tell anyone about this and I will ruin your life.”

He looked shocked at the sudden shift in your disposition, but his open mouth quickly curled into another grin.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he joked as he turned to carefully place your dress back on its hanger. You scoffed, and you were glad he couldn't see the smile on your face.

“You know, somehow this makes a lot of sense,” he said, leaning against your closet door.

“Yeah?”

“Weirdly enough... Yeah. Explains a lot.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean, Munson?” you asked sternly, trying to hold back the smile that was fighting to spread over your lips.

“Look, I'm not the brightest tool in the... Uh, toolbox” he chuckled as he moved to sit down on the bottom of your bed, “but I've always known there was more to you, Y/N. You've got a certain something that the other fuckers in that shithole don't, and I've been trying to figure you out for years.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at that word. Years. Eddie Munson had been thinking about you— he even knew you EXISTED— for years.

“Come on, Y/N. Tell me everything. I know you want tooooo”, he said in a sing-song voice.

You threw your hands up in mock defeat. “Alright, you win. But first I'm getting the hell out of this fucking thing” you said, looking down at your cheer uniform.

As you shuffled through your dresser for something more comfortable, you couldn't help but let the floodgates open. It felt like you'd been waiting to complain since the day you were born.

“I mean, can you imagine having to dress like, I don’t know, Jason every day?” you ranted.

He shuddered at the thought.

“Torture. Absolute torture. This thing is so short, I don’t know h–”

“You've got to admit, you look pretty hot in it though.” Eddie interjected. You looked back at him over your shoulder and smirked.

“Damn right I do.”

You stood up and paused. When he didn't get the hint, you made a small circle with your finger.

“Oh! Right” he said as he turned away from you.

When you let him know it was okay to turn around again, he just stared at you. You pretended not to notice. You had changed into an oversized Black Sabbath shirt and some pyjama shorts, and he swore he was about to have a heart attack.

You continued your energetic ranting, jumping from one topic to the next in quick succession as you joined him on your bed. It felt so good to let go. You laid down completely, and he laid next to you— looking down at you with his hand propped up on his elbow. He let you babble, nodding along and laughing with you. He didn't say anything, he just listened and tried to keep up.

You told him everything, just like he asked, from the kind of music you liked to the bars you went to in the town over for shows.

You ended up talking together for hours, completely losing track of time. For a while, you passionately argued back and forth about your mutual favourite band's best songs, and you'd never felt so free to be yourself.

As you spoke, Eddie admired your features. The sun was going down, casting a golden light over your face. You looked like a damn angel, he thought.

He wasn't hearing the words you were saying anymore. Instead, he was focused on how you were saying them. You were so much more animated, more lively than you were at school. He didn't understand why you would keep this version of yourself from the world.

“I mean, honestly, it's getting so hard not to just sock Jason right in the jaw when he calls you a freak. His one brain cell just can't compreh–”

You were torn from your current train of thought as you felt Eddie's hand gently cup your cheek, making you flinch at first before settling into him. You looked up at him, mouth slightly agape in shock.

“Why do you do it?” he whispered, leering over you.

“D-do... do what?” you stuttered as you struggled to form a coherent thought. He was close enough that you could smell him again, and it was like a drug.

“Hide yourself, love. You're so quiet and shy at school but your real personality it's– it's intoxicating.”

He sat up slightly and motioned to your body with his other hand as he spoke: “and THIS... babe you're just wearing a band t-shirt and I'm about ready to kiss you, I can't even imagine how you'd look in that little black dress... It’d be hard to restrain myself.” he said with a smirk.

You could feel yourself turning to putty in his hands, so you gathered all the confidence you had left.

“Then don’t.”

His head darted back up to meet your gaze.

“W-what?”

His dark eyes glittered with a warmth that bled into your bloodstream— the cool bite of his rings against the side of your face paled in comparison to the heat you felt spreading over your body.

“You heard me.”

You looked deeply into each other's eyes as he shifted his body to hover over you. He leaned down to place a chaste, almost cautious kiss to your lips before pulling back slightly.

You paused briefly before reaching up to thread your fingers through his long hair, pulling him back down to you. Your lips crashed together with much more force, tongue and teeth clashing in a kiss that lacked grace but overwhelmed you with passion.

You felt like the ocean separating you for so many years had suddenly parted, and you were the only two people in the world. Your legs tangled together and his other hand found its place on your waist, like a dance you had known for years.

The rest of the world faded into white noise— there was only him. His touch felt like home.

Finally, he pulled back and fell next to you, both of you now breathless.

“Well that was...” you started, your heartbeat faster than you'd ever felt it before.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” he said with a laugh.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, an idea struck him. Suddenly re-energized, he turned on his side to face you with a devilish grin.

“Sooo....” he began while tracing small circles on your arm, making you shiver.

“My band is playing tomorrow night... how about you put on one of those black dresses and let me take you out?”

You opened your mouth to turn him down, but as if he could read your mind, he interrupted you.

“Now, before you say no, I promise no one from school will see you. None of those fuckers have the balls to step foot in there. Trust me, princess. Please?”

His reassurances actually calmed your anxiety, which was not an easy feat. Plus, how could you say no when he asks so nicely?

“Sure, Eddie. I'd like that.”

He leaped off of your bed with excitement, doing a little celebratory dance around your room, making you giggle.

“Pick you up at 8?” he practically yelled while pointing finger guns at you.

“Okay! Oh, but, my parents can't exactly see me so I have to sneak out. Can you meet me outside my window?”

“Rescue the princess from her tower? Anything for you, my lady” he said with a dramatic bow.

“See you tomorrow then, Eds. It's a date.” your cheeks began to ache from smiling so hard.

-

After you walked him back down to your front door, he pulled you in for another kiss. His hands gripped your hips hard, and you mourned the loss of the dull pain when he finally let you go.

He took a few steps towards his van, swinging his keys before turning to look you up and down.

“You know, I'm trying to imagine you in all black and I just– I just can't.” he chuckled.

“Oh trust me, you'll like it” you say, giving him a wink before closing the door, leaving Eddie to his imagination.

The second you lock the door, you slump down against it.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my GOD.

The events of the evening rush through your mind as you walk back to your room. Someone knowing your secret is absolutely terrifying, especially because that someone is Eddie fucking Munson, but you've also never felt so at home with someone so quickly. So safe.

When you open your door your gaze falls on the papers placed on your desk.

God damn it. The whole reason he came over.

The project.

-

Authors note: ahhh!!! Hi! I'm so glad so many of you liked the first part! I hope this part lives up to your expectations :”) sorry it took me so long! What will happen in part 3 👀 WILL someone from school have the balls to show up? Someone else? Hmm .... hehehe ...

Let me know if u have any thoughts or requests !!! And as always... Pls like/reblog/comment if you liked it, it means a lot <3

Tag list: @mrs-munson @castiels-gracex @m-i-1-0 @linn-a-a @steeldaisies @ivegot-daddy-issues @da-pink-alligator @im-a-bi-disaster-help @munsonshoe @c0untryclub @jimhoppersdicksucker @notbeforelong

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[thefanficmonster]

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

I

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them. 

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

II

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out. 

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

IV

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

V

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

                                                            ~  ~  ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

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[squishneedsahero]

Maybe It Isn’t all Bad

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 2 of 13

Word Count: 1714

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

It had been two months since you published your book, and it had taken off. Tons of people loved it and even more had read it. Because of this you were suddenly a popular public figure of Gotham, and of course like all other public figures you were invited to one of the many galas that happen in this city. You hated it. You, y/n l/n the nobody who lived in a shabby apartment and just happened to get lucky with your book. What you wouldn't give to go back to being a nobody so you could spend your Friday night watching Netflix alone on your couch.

Unfortunately you weren't sure how the snobby rich people,who thought they were better than everyone else, would take you rejecting their invitation the first of probably many. But this was a charity gala hosted by Bruce Wayne: play boy, billionaire, and one of the few people present that seems somewhat genuine even if you didn't think he had a single thought behind his eyes. So maybe it wasn't all bad cause all the rich people were donating to charity and Bruce usually made sure the money went somewhere good.

You had worn an elegant gown, preferring it to the ones that let your ass hang out the bottom. The dress was fabulously elegant and made you feel like a queen. You had paired it with your your highest high heels, stilettos that you could stab someone with if it came down to it. So far the night had been filled with pointless conversations and lots and lots of introductions, all while dancing a waltz.

Lets be honest you won't remember most of the new people you had met, you could've met the Queen of England and not have known it. You didn't remember not because you had been drinking, even if you had thought about it many times, but because there were so many people that wanted to get you and your new found popularity under their thumb and gain through you.

You had finally gotten a break by standing by the buffet table and eating the food they seemed to be letting go to waste. If nothing else you would singlehandedly make sure the food didn't get wasted. You kept trying to think of an excuse to go home, but so far couldn't think of anything. Your planning was interrupted when yet another person came up to you, except his face is somewhat familiar. "Hi," you say after you hurriedly swallow a bite of food.

"Hello, Miss (y/n) (l/n)," he begins, knowing your name but you not knowing his, "may I have this dance?" He asks, great another dance luckily you were used to being on your feet thanks to waitressing otherwise you'd be worried about them falling off with all this meaningless dancing. Why couldn't rich people be more fun with their dancing, most of them were white, playing some pop songs, and the Cupid Shuffle could only make things better.

"Yes, Mister..." you pause as you try to place him, you know you know him but you'd seen so many faces like that tonight that it was a blur.

"Wayne," He finishes for you.

"I'd love to dance with you Mr.Wayne," you lie through that smile that was plastered to your face. You offer your hand and wish desperately you had taken your chance to escape when you'd had it only moments before.

He takes the hand you offer to him and leads you out to the dance floor, waltzing yet again, at least you didn't have to lead cause you had no idea what you were doing. "My son read your book," he begins, trying to start up a friendly conversation, "he's keeps trying to convince me to read it."

"That's nice," you respond awkwardly, what were you supposed to do? Try to convince him to read it too? Hell no, you are not going to act like an airhead and promote yourself.

"He doesn't know that I've already read it," Bruce says. You laugh before you can stop yourself, you almost apologize but he laughs as well. "I enjoyed reading it, it was very well written." Maybe he did actually have real thoughts in his head unlike how the media portrayed him.

"Thank you," you say a slight blush making is way onto your cheeks. He was quite attractive after all and here he was complimenting you. The smile on your lips becomes more genuine as the two of you continue dancing, making light conversation, and surprisingly it was quite enjoyable.

Before you know it the party is over. And you'd spent almost half of it dancing with one man. "Thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he says, and you find yourself blushing for the millionth time that night. Maybe these parties weren't all bad, you'd found a friend you could have intelligent conversations with after all.

You find yourself invited to almost every gala that happens in the city over the next few months and every time Bruce is there the two of you spend most of the time dancing and talking with each other. The conversations between the two of you are pleasant, covering many topics, and most importantly they aren't meaningless like all the other conversations you were forced into at galas.

Bruce would get your opinion on things such as how the money he got for charity should be spent since you had been more recently living among the people he was trying to help. Like you weren't bad off by any means but you hadn't owned a car, relying on bus routes to get around the city and working 40+ hours a week to keep your head above water. You had been better off than many in Gotham but you had been closer to the poverty than Bruce had, even considering his night job. The fact that he genuinely cared and wanted your opinion amazed you. He was the first and probably only friend you made among the one percent at those parties.

Of course the two of you didn't only talk business, other more casual subjects came up. The two of you bonding over having dead parents, even if he was more traumatized and your wounds more recent. Then talking about school and how you had decided to skip college in order to pursue writing while he had been homeschooled then traveled the world instead of college, not that either of you were too old for college though. He was was 23-24, still young despite having adopted an 8 almost 9 year old and you were close to the same age as him.

The both of you being young, and single, did lead the two of you to have more than a friendship but that was after nearly a year of just talking at galas. Okay a year of just talking was a lie. It was probably only six months before the two of you found yourselves out in a garden and shared your first kiss. But it was an entire year before he finally asked you out, claiming it was a dare from Dick and to ease the pressure of the press.

You of course called him on those lies and pointed out the fact that there had not been a single other woman in his life since the two of you met. And said the only way you'd go out with him was if he'd, "just admit you like me." Needless to say he did.

That was part of the reason that he was so attracted to you. Despite what he knew about you from the one day he saved you from Joker, you were just unafraid to be yourself. You had never pretended or tried to pretend to fit in at the galas. You'd never been afraid to call him on his shit, even if it had risked your one friendship that made those galas bearable.

To your surprise when you had called him a dumbass for thinking it was acceptable to give a 9 year old unlimited access to the internet he laughed and said you were probably right. Then for some reason he thought it was a good idea to ask you for parenting advice and you told him that was a worse idea. You had less of an idea how to be a parent than he did, the only reason a 9 year old shouldn't have unlimited internet access was because he was a bit young to already get unrealistic expectations from porn. Mainly you had no idea, it just felt weird to turn a kid loose on the internet but then again you'd been a kid who ate mud and called it fun.

So, all the talking and asking opinions and just spending a ton of time together leads to Bruce asking you out. The press saw this coming from miles away and caught you both on your date, not that they didn't have pictures of the two of you hiding from people on a balcony. But an actual date?!? Amazing! All the internet fans were happy for you, the paparazzi loved you and would do anything to get pictures of the two of you.

The two of you became Gotham's it couple overnight but the best thing about it was that it was real. Both of you were blatantly honest, calling each other out when needed and defending each other at other moments. There were no secrets between the both of you and you wouldn't trade that for anything. It was amazing to you that you had finally found a man who saw you as his equal and if anything he was a man known for being a womanizer.

So that's how it all started, in the space of a year the two of you fell in love and were head over heels for each other. Dick played match maker every chance he got, since he adored you for some odd reason. And of course, when you finally met him Alfred approved of you and Bruce being together, the one person able to call him on his shit and have him listen. It was a miracle that Alfred had thought he'd never love to see.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 9

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language + mentions of sensitive topics Warnings: Referenced past abuse. Does not go into detail. Notes: Longest Serenade chapter yet at 4k+ words! Bit of angst, majority is fluffy fluffer fluff though. Next chapter is maximum h*rny, with two versions depending on reader, uh, equipment. EDIT: Forgot to put title, like dumbass. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato

Chapter 9: Berceuse

(Berceuse: A lullaby. Generally slow and undulating.)

One moment you’re playing the piano, lovingly demonstrating a song you’d like Daniela to learn, the next you’re blue screening as she places a teasing kiss to your neck. It takes all of your willpower to keep playing, improvising a way to end the song right then and there. Then you’re turning to Daniela, eyes wide, blushing hard. She’s giggling. When she regains her composure, you give her a confused expression.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve made real eye contact with me all morning. What gives?” She asked, frowning slightly. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck, you avoid her gaze, doing little else than proving her point. This frustrates her, and she lets out an aggravated sigh. I should probably tell her what happened, you think, dreading the idea. Still, the two of you had been making an effort to communicate better. What kind of partner would you be if you didn’t tell her about her mother’s intervention?

“Okay, okay… I wasn’t sure how to bring this up, but if I’m being this obvious about it anyway…” You started, trailing off anxiously. In response, Daniela places one of her hands over yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Though your face somehow gets even redder, the action gives you the courage required to continue. “I had another progress update meeting with your mother yesterday. I was worried, since this was the first one where you weren’t present, but I didn’t- I mean, er… Fuck it, she knows you’re interested in me. Doesn’t think we’re already together, thank God, but she told me, and I quote, that my response should be ‘swift and uninterested’. What are-” before you can finish you’re cut off by a loud groan, followed by your girlfriend cradling her head in her hands. Yeah, you think, this is about what I expected.

“Of course she did! I can’t have anything nice,” Daniela snapped, having gone from ten to sixty real quick. You’re just glad that she wasn’t taking it out on the piano. “How would she even know about us? I only stare at you when she’s not looking!” Oh? Since when did she stare at you? Certainly if Lady Dimitrescu had noticed, you would have as well?... Then again, the few times where all three of you were in the same room usually involved you working while they chatted or ate together. Still, the idea of Daniela making heart eyes at you from across the room was enough to make you blush again. “Look, she’s probably making some assumptions. There’s no way she knows as much as she thinks she does, at least not about us. So let’s just be careful- ugh, I sound like Bela- and otherwise keep doing what we do. Alright, songbird?”

“If you’re sure, then so am I. Let’s try to focus on our lesson for now, though,” you replied, doing your best to sound confident. Hoping to add in a little reassurance, you give Daniela a quick peck on the cheek. Unsurprisingly she ‘dodges’, instead kissing you on the lips, but you hardly mind at all. When she pulls back she’s got a huge grin on her face.

“Lesson now, fun later, got it. Speaking of later… You and me, inside the library, right after lunch. I’ll tell mother we’re going over theory and key recognition, but really-” she leans in close, mouth barely an inch from your ear “it’s a date. Don’t worry about getting caught, I’ve already made sure that neither Bela nor Cassandra will interrupt.” Your heart skipped a few beats at her suggestion, and you had to admit… you were beyond excited for this. When was the last time you had gone on an actual date? Years ago, just a month before you left your hometown and moved to the village. That had been a date you’d spend the rest of your life regretting… then again, it was what made you leave in the first place. And if you hadn’t left, you’d have never met Daniela.

Maybe it hadn’t been that bad after all.

————————————

Four minutes past one in the morning, you shuffled nervously towards the library, with note cards in hand. Even if you weren’t really going to help Daniela study, you wanted to be prepared in case you bumped into anyone along the way. After all, this was the night shift, when most of the servants were up and about, accomplishing any tasks deemed ‘too noisy’ to be done while the manor occupants slept. Thankfully, the fact that lunch had just finished meant a fair amount of workers would be busy cleaning up the dining hall. In the end, you only passed one other servant, but it was the only one you hadn’t felt confident about running into: Daphne.

Despite your long-standing friendship (having known each other in the village, and being brought to the castle within the same week), you had yet to tell her about your relationship with Daniela. Which by itself wouldn’t have been too bad, if not for the fact that she could tell you were hiding something from her. This had, understandably, put a damper on your friendship. From her perspective, there was nothing you shouldn’t be able to tell her. Even you weren’t sure if you should be more honest, all things considered. There was no way she’d ever tell someone else about your situation. But if one day you got in trouble for lying to Lady Dimitrescu… and somehow someone figured out that Daphne knew too, well, she’d be just as fucked as you, if not more so. After all, there was a chance that Daniela’s affection for you would lead to a lighter punishment. Not that being exiled into the forest was much better than being flat out killed.

So when you saw Daphne heading towards you, you tried to get by with a simple smile and a brief wave.

“Aren’t you even going to say hi?” Daphne asked, tone stiff but filled with disappointment. It catches you off guard, to the point where you drop your note cards. Immediately you’re squatting down, gathering them up, taking the excuse not to look at your friend. She doesn’t move to assist, instead pausing in the hallway to watch you. “We were supposed to stick together, you know? But it’s like becoming Lady Daniela’s little plaything made you think you’re better than the rest of us. Better than me.” That last part was barely more than a whisper, and you freeze in place, hand still hovering over one of the cards. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t matter. Just try not to get yourself killed, alright? I don’t want to be the one to clean up your corpse.”

“Daphne, wait, please!” You said, finally moving to your feet, blocking your friend’s path. When she looks at you, you can just barely make out tears in the corners of her soft blue eyes. “I’m sorry, really. I… I can’t tell you what’s going on because I can’t risk getting you in trouble. You’re my best friend, Daph, and I don’t want anything happening to you just because I was doing something reckless.”

“Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you?” Daphne questioned, with a bitter laugh. She’s shaking her head in disbelief, even as you stare at her, shell shocked. “Maybe the others haven’t caught on yet, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’m not oblivious to the way you talk about her. I figured you’d tell me eventually… It’s been weeks, though. More than that, I mean seriously, don’t you think I’d go down for you in a heartbeat? There was a time where I was sure the two of us would do anything for each other, ride or die when the dying part was a guaranteed end to all of this. Something tells me that’s not the case anymore.” Now she refuses to meet your gaze, instead staring down at what few note cards still lay on the floor.

“That’s still the case, I promise. It’s hard enough to look past what our employers do to strangers. If they hurt you? I’d never dream of forgetting, let alone forgiving them,” you explained. It’s enough to make her look back up, but she’s far from smiling.

“If that’s the case, maybe I’m looking at the wrong signals. But I’ve got to go, and I assume you do too. Take care,” she said, before slipping past you as quickly as she can. Then you’re left to gather the last of your note cards, mind whirling. Cruel as the thought may be, you hoped that this wouldn’t ruin the mood for your date. The best your mind could do to cope was focus on one thing at a time…

————————————

“Are you sure this is safe? I can’t even remember how many times I’ve been told to keep this door shut, under the threat of, you know, losing my life,” you called out, hanging out in the doorway. Beyond you by a few meters was Daniela, who twirled about with laughter, reaching out to catch a few falling leaves. This was the entrance to the garden, as far as you could tell. Not to be confused with the vineyard, which was larger, as well as on a completely different side of the estate. You had never been to either, seeing as only a select few servants were allowed to leave the manor. If Daniela hadn’t made it seem like you’d be staying in the library, well, you probably would have protested a little, regardless of how badly you wanted to go on a real date. Even when you had met up with her, she hadn’t told you any details, just laughing and asking you to follow her.

“Don’t be a baby! We’re still a few weeks away from autumn, and besides, you’re here with me! What could possibly go wrong?” Daniela asked, sending you a cheeky grin before dashing off into the garden proper. For a moment you’re left on the threshold, a picnic basket in your arms, wondering what the season had to do with your safety. Then you sigh, figuring that it couldn’t be that bad. Hadn’t your girlfriend mentioned this to Bela, anyway? Certainly the responsible older sister would have stepped in if something genuinely dangerous had been suggested? Well, you hoped as much, at least. With that in mind you close the door behind you, then dashed towards where Daniela had gone. Even as you round the corner, you don’t see her, and suddenly you’re nervous as hell. Before you can call out to her, the sound of rustling leaves catches your attention. Suddenly something jumps out at you! “Rah! Gotcha, babe!”

Ah, of course it was your girlfriend, clearly pulling a leaf from Cassandra’s book. You playfully smack her arm in response, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. Humorous intentions aside, she had legitimately scared you, and you had nearly dropped your basket in response. Before you can say as much, Daniela’s hooking her arm in yours so she can pull you further into the gardens.

“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute, firefly,” you muttered, a tad grumpy now. Most of your irritation was false, however, intended to tease your girlfriend. For a moment she doesn’t seem to realize that, and she stops in place. Once her eyes meet yours she understands what’s going on. Then she’s grinning, sticking her tongue out at you, and continuing down the path. Soon enough you’re approaching a paved brick circle. All around it, minus where it meets the walkway, are various flowers in bloom. Past the flowers are bushes, and past those are trees, whose branches provide a canopy for the circle. “Wow… and I thought you were pretty,” you teased, admiring the view.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Daniela lets out an offended scoff, before taking the basket from you. Wordlessly she opens it up to grab the blankets within, spreading them without sparing you a glance. Now it’s your turn to wonder whether or not her anger is just a joke. Hoping so, you help her smooth out the blankets, making sure the two of you have ample space to spread out. At one point both of you reach for the basket at the same time, and she just grabs your hand instead, squeezing it. Next thing you know she’s pulling you down onto the blankets, rolling on top of you.

“Come here often?” She asked. Then, unsurprisingly, the two of you kiss. Both of your arms wrap around her waist, holding her as close as you can. One of her hands cups your cheek, the other resting on the ground to support herself, for ‘optimal makeout angles’. It’s a minute of bliss before she has to pull back for air. Instead of pulling away entirely, she shifts down a notch, resting her head against your chest. “Mmm… so comfortable. I could just… fall… asleep…” Daniela murmured, pretending to be sleepy. You can’t help but laugh, chest obviously shaking in as you do. “No! Pillows aren’t supposed to vibrate.”

“Are you sure about that?” You asked, only laughing harder.

“They don’t talk, either,” Daniela replied, huffing as she does. When you keep laughing, she rises to a sitting position, much to your disappointment. “So you have chosen death? So be it. I’ll just eat these candies myself, then.” With that said, she digs into the picnic basket, retrieving a bag of chocolates. Pouting, you reach out to try and yoink one away from her. Rather deftly, she pulls them away, sticking her tongue out at you before tossing a couple in her mouth. Determined, you surge forward, trying to catch her off guard, only to (somehow) end up face down in her lap. “Exactly like I planned, songbird. Now get comfy, alright?”

One of her hands trails fingers through your hair as you semi-awkwardly roll over. Now you’re facing up, watching your girlfriend practically inhale a few pieces of chocolate. But now she seems more inclined to share. She plucks one more from the bag, offering it to you by holding it in front of your mouth. Gladly you open up, and she drops the chocolate, before giving you a small ‘boop’ on the nose. Both of you laugh, then, a sound that sparks warmth in your chest. This was… nice. Relaxing. Not only were the two of you allowed to be as open with your affection as you wanted, it was the first time in ages that you had actually been outside, able to enjoy the sunlight.

Several minutes pass by like this, with Daniela feeding you (and herself) candies, both of you taking time to appreciate the scenery. Eventually the bag of chocolates becomes close to empty, and you see your girlfriend have an ‘oh crap’ moment.

“I was going to save some of these for you to smuggle into your quarters, damn it… guess you’ll just have to refuse to share, babe,” she said, shrugging a little. Then she sets the bag aside, now devoting both of her hands to playing with your hair. “Guess I’ll just have to find something else to keep my tongue occupied. Know any volunteers?”

“Hmm… I would, but it’s reeeaaaaaallllllly comfortable down here,” you teased in reply. Suddenly her hands are taken out of your hair, and you can just barely see that they’re positioned on her hips. She’s pouting at you, very similar to how you’ve seen her mother do, yellow eyes betraying her mischief. What exactly did she have planned?

“Really, songbird? I take you out, give you a wonderful place to rest, hand feed you chocolates… and you won’t even kiss me? When was the last time you even got to do something like this?” She asked, perking an eyebrow. The question is innocent enough. The answer, however, is not. Even with your head in her lap, you cannot fight off the brief sense of panic as your mind flashes into the past. It takes a deep breath, a few blinks, and a reassuring touch from Daniela for you to calm back down. “Songbird?... Hey, hey, it’s okay, I didn’t- I don’t know what happened. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can just…” She trails off, sounding unsure of herself, and you feel a pang of guilt. Was it finally time to come clean?... Yeah, yeah it was.

“It’s fine, I promise. I just… I need to sit up for this,” you explained, begrudgingly rising out of her lap. But she doesn’t let you pull away entirely, a hand guiding you to sit right up against her. Then she gently wraps an arm around you. Leaning into her touch, you rest your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “It’s kind of a long story, firefly… But this has happened often enough that I need to tell you. At least part of it. So, well… When I was younger, I, uh, I read a lot of romance novels, watched a lot of movies. Not even the good ones, really. And I didn’t- I couldn’t think through them. Couldn’t analyze it the way I needed to. So I didn’t get a good grasp of what a healthy relationship looked like. My, uh, my folks weren’t keen on demonstrating one for me, either…

“Before I came to the village, I was, well, uh, the thing is you might not like this part? And you’re not gonna like the next part, either. Just… listen to the end, please,” you pleaded, waiting for an acknowledgment before continuing. “I was engaged, as in to be married, to a woman I had known for most of my life. We were neighbors, and had gone to school together, and everyone thought we were the cutest couple. Hell, for the longest time I thought that. We weren’t, though. She was-” Daniela tenses a bit, though remains silent- “manipulative, sometimes aggressive. Anytime there was an argument, she made herself into the victim, told me that I was crazy. She wanted to make all the decisions about our relationship for me, and I just… I didn’t question it. Not even after she proposed, when my only reason for saying yes was because we were in public, with friends, and she clearly assumed that I’d agree. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t ready, that maybe we were going too fast, but she tuned me out.

“I didn’t even think about running until our final date. That was the first, and the only, time that she ever… that she ever-” a few tears spill from the corners of your eyes- “got physical with me. She’d broken things before, for sure, but I never thought she’d hurt me.” Daniela rubs your back gently, her breathing a little shaky. Evidently she hated hearing about this as much as you hated talking about it. Somehow that made it a little easier to talk through. “The next day she had to work early, so I just packed up my things, went over to my parents’ house and told them what happened. For once they actually agreed, if you can believe it. Told me to get the hell out of town, said that they’d deal with my fiance, and our relatives, so that I didn’t have to worry about anything when I came back. It was less than a full day before I drove away from everything I had ever known, promising my folks that someday I’d be back. Didn’t settle down until half the continent was behind me, not ‘til I was here at the village.”

There were a couple moments of silence as Daniela waited to make sure you had finished talking. Then she’s kissing the top of your head, shaking a little more noticeably now, murmuring reassurances that you can’t quite understand. Again you lean into her touch, indescribably thankful for her comforting presence. Fuck, you think, I probably ruined the date… so much for spending quality time with my lil firefly. When the silence breaks, it does so softly, slowly, a careful opening rather than a forceful push.

“Why would you give me a second chance? After what I did to you?” Daniela asked, voice barely audible, her head still resting atop yours. It’s not the response you expected. Not in the slightest. You pull away slightly, to look her in her eyes, heart aching at the tear stains on her cheeks. Even though you want to give her an answer that will bring her peace, your mind draws little more than a blank. Why had you given her a chance? You had wanted to be with her, without doubt, even before Cassandra and Bela intervened. Even after every time that she reminded you of your past…

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I haven’t learned anything from what’s happened,” you started, uncertainty clear in your tone. “Or maybe it’s because you looked… regretful. You didn’t enjoy what you did, and I saw it in your eyes. And… and then you did something about it. If you hadn’t shown remorse, or if I genuinely believed that you might do something like that again, we wouldn’t be here right now. I mean, in that case your sisters probably would have killed me for turning you down, but that’s not entirely relevant right now, is it?” You’re rambling a little, stuttering over your own words. Still, somehow it makes Daniela laugh, and relief floods your chest. Soon enough you’re curled up against her once more.

“Hey,” she said, after a minute of comfortable silence. “Thank you for showing me what romance is supposed to be.” Then she’s leaning in for a kiss, and you’re responding eagerly, unable to stop yourself from smiling. This time it’s your hand that runs through her hair as you pull her in as close as you can. To your surprise, she does pull away a tad earlier than usual. But there’s a grin on her lips, and she looks satisfied as hell. “Definitely more of that, soon. There’s just one more thing we have to do, to make this date perfect, you know? I may or may not have, kind of, written you something? You’re not allowed to laugh, though!”

“When have I ever laughed at you?” You asked, teasing, literally laughing as you speak. In response, Daniela scowls, making a point to look away in feign protest. “Joking, joking… I’ve just, you know, never had someone write me something before. Kinda don’t know how to react, really. Other than blushing real hard-” which you were doing- “and trying to play off my excitement with humor. But I promise I won’t laugh, even if you start with something like ‘roses are red, violets are blue’ or end with something like ‘just us in bed, doing the do’. Please tell me that’s not what you wrote, though?”

“Now that you mention it, maybe that should be what I recite. Sounds exactly like the sort of thing that would get me laid,” Daniela joked, rolling her eyes at you. Then she’s tugging a loose piece of paper out of the picnic basket, unfolding it to reveal a well-worn surface and hand-written text. She hesitates for a moment, glancing up at you, before taking a deep breath. When she speaks it’s clear just how nervous she is. But with every line she gains a measure of confidence, by the end acting her usual confident self.

Step from the shadows, weary corners of my mind Encased in old thoughts, brought into new life Like ashes rising from tombs housing the divine

Spinning webs as I descend, from the cradle of heaven From the dead I have risen, blessed be the gift I’m given Only from your haunting call do I embrace living

Catching the corners of my lips turning up All my years I’ve felt, but never this much Quietly writhing, begging for your softest touch

The pursuit of unintentional romance left abandoned Whispering love-locked tales to be consumed Sweeter than every facade I have ever imagined

Come closer now, into my arms, heart embraced Trailing fingers over scars, sewing lines traced Tell me love, “we shall last until the end of days”

At first, all you can do in response is stare at her, expression filled with affection. Inside your chest your heart was racing, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt this warm. Reaching out, you take one of Daniela’s hands in your own, grinning as soon as her gaze meets yours. Both of you are blushing rather hard. Then she sets the poem down, eyes never leaving yours for even a second. You try to stutter out a few words, but find your tongue tied, and so you settle for placing your forehead against hers. The two of you stay like that for a few loving moments. When you part, it is only to come back together, this time in a tight hug.

“One helluva date, yeah?” Daniela asked, looking incredibly proud of herself. You can’t help but nod enthusiastically in response, honestly happier than you had felt in years. “Well, I will have to let you get back to work soon, unfortunately… but we have a few minutes, at least. Besides, having to part will only make tonight all the more sweeter.” At that you pause, confused, tilting your head to the side. Realizing that she must have gotten ahead of herself, Daniela blushes before elaborating. “You, me, my room. Tonight, right after your shift ends.”

You could hardly wait.

[pies-writes-and-more]

a broken heart

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: sad bean vibes today guys, sorry! Breakup angst and jealousy.

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader, Bokuto Kōtarō x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have no clue what got into me but we’re writing some sad shit tonight apparently. For all my broken-hearted beans out there, I promise I’ll write some fluff sooner or later! <3 Thank you to @thisnoodlewritesao3 for reading some of this for me and giving me the motivation to keep writing - sorry you’ll probably wake up to these feels (please don’t read if you’re not in a good head space, yall!)

Song inspo: When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars (thank you @haikyuutothetop and @tobi-momo for bringing it up cause I totally forgot to add it 😂)

Haikyuu Masterlist

It was like life was stabbing him every few seconds, reminding him that you were no longer there.

Tsukishima woke up thinking that maybe everything would be okay today, pulled his headphones on while he got ready because he was refusing to be alone with his thoughts. But when his music shuffled, why did the first song to play have to be the song you had deemed your song? Why could he remember the melody so perfectly sung in your voice? The way you looked whenever the song came on on the radio.

He remembered how happy you looked that very first day, how you had dressed yourself up just to hang out with him, and how this song was playing in a playlist he had made you and was the one in the background when he had kissed you for the first time.

The melody made Tsukishima’s lips tingle. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you right now.

Yamaguchi’s half smiles didn’t help either. When he joined Tsukishima on his way to school, he just patted Tsukishima on the back like he normally did and danced around the question, “How are you?”

It’s not like Tsukishima would be honest. He’d just shrug and say, “Fine,” and hope Yamaguchi would fill the silence with some story or something dumb.

He knew Yamaguchi was still friends with you, that the two of you talked. He’d never ask for him to stop because if anything, Tsukishima could find out how you were doing without even asking.

“She’s okay,” Yamaguchi told him with a small smile, as if that was supposed to be comforting. Did he think that’s what Tsukishima wanted to hear? That you were doing okay? That you weren’t waking up in tears every night like he was? Part of him wanted to be happy that you were okay, because he always secretly knew you’d be better off without him. But he wanted to be angry at you, he wanted to blame you for the fact that he cried more in the last few weeks than he had ever before in his life.

Tsukishima just kept his eyes forward, like he didn’t even hear his best friend but Yamaguchi had seen the flicker of sadness in him. He had learned a few weeks into the breakup not to mention your name around Tsukishima, but not because the quiet boy asked him to. It was because every time he heard your name, Yamaguchi would watch as his shoulders tensed, how his fists would clench in annoyance. He missed you, but who would ever catch Tsukishima Kei admitting that?

Yamaguchi would never tell him, but he always wondered that maybe if Tsukishima had admitted his feelings more to you, maybe you’d still be here.

Tsukishima would never say it out loud, but he was already thinking the same thing.

It hadn’t taken long for it to feel like the whole world knew about your breakup. People whispered in the hallways, more than they usually did when Tsukishima’s cold aura came by. Your name fluttered into his ears through gossipy voices and the blond boy just wanted to tell everyone to shut up.

Why did your name have to follow him around? Why did people have to look at him like he had done something so wrong? It’s not like he had broken up with you.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Tsukishima, I’m sorry,” you had whispered to him, shifting uncomfortably in your stance. “It just feels like you don’t even want me around most of the time and I feel like I’m constantly bugging you.”

“I never said you were bugging me, did I?” he huffed. Looking back, Tsukishima wished he could’ve bit down on his tongue and cut the sass in half. You had winced at his bitter tone. It was the look on your face that made him realize you weren’t just being insecure or awkward again. You were genuinely trying to leave.

“I want to be with someone who actually wants me around… and I don’t think that’s how we are…” the words left your lips so easily but Tsukishima knew what you meant. You meant that’s not how he was.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” Tsukishima spat out angrily, glaring at you as you picked up your things slowly, tears in your eyes. Why wouldn’t you look at him? Why wouldn’t you look him in the eyes and tell him why you were leaving?

But when you finally met his gaze, you were already at the door, glancing back at him with sorrowful eyes. Why did you look like you were mourning something? Had it really been that bad? Being with him? “You’re the one not stopping me,” you had said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. You waited there for a moment, as if proving your point to him as Tsukishima just stood there with his fists clenched.

He wanted to lurch forward and hold you to him, beg you to stay even though he wasn’t sure what words could possibly describe how he was feeling. He didn’t know how to explain why he was always so angry or emotionless with you. He didn’t hate you - how was he supposed to say that? He didn’t want you to go but you were already leaving. How pathetic of him would he be if he begged you to stay? What was the point of begging if you were already choosing to go?

The memory was still fresh in Tsukishima’s mind. He couldn’t help but think about it every moment of the day, even still. Some part of him had hoped you would come back - would show up at his house with tears in your eyes and beg him to show some sort of emotions so you could stay. He would if you had come. But he knew that you probably expected him to do the same.

But even if he did, would you accept it? Would you accept his apology? Or was he considered a lost cause?

Tsukishima’s ears perked up, hearing a familiar melodious laughter as he walked through campus for lunch. His eyes searched around and saw you with your friends, giggles erupting from your lips. He wondered how you were still able to laugh with your friends, how your smile still managed to brighten up the courtyard during your lunch. How were you so happy? How come you had never smiled like that with him?

Before he could stop himself, Tsukishima felt himself walking towards you. He needed to see you up close - needed to make sure that smile was genuine because it couldn’t possibly be right? How were you so okay when he was so not?

“Tsukki!” Yamaguchi’s hand grabbed Tsukishima’s arm before he could cause a scene, pulling him back from his zoned in thoughts. “You’re not gonna want to do that,” Yamaguchi insisted, meeting Tsukishima’s glare head on. “Trust me okay?”

Tsukishima watched him for a moment, his lips pursing into a thin line, “How am I supposed to apologize and get her back if I don’t see her?”

Yamaguchi’s gaze faltered this time and that’s when Tsukishima knew something was going on. Yamaguchi knew something. Something he wasn’t telling his best friend.

“What is it?” Tsukishima asked quietly, pulling his arm from Yamaguchi’s grip.

Yamaguchi started to say something but the most annoying voice you could ever hear was louder.

“Y/N! My angel! I did it! I ran all the way here just like I promised!”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened just slightly as he watched as Bokuto Kōtarō seemed to run over to Tsukishima’s girlfriend no, ex girlfriend.

“He didn’t, he’s just exaggerating,” Akaashi’s voice came next, trailing behind Bokuto with a look on his face that clearly stated he didn’t want to be here.

You were laughing awkwardly, a look in your eyes telling Tsukishima you really hadn’t expected them. So why were they here in the middle of a school day?

Tsukishima scoffed a bit, wanting to turn back and run away, bury his nose into his studies and pretend like it was fine. But it wasn’t fine. Because Bokuto wrapped you up in his arms and whirled you around in a hug that showed everyone nearby exactly how he felt about you.

“B-Boktuo, put me down!” You insisted through giggles, desperately trying to avoid everyone from staring at you but it was far too late.

“I’m just excited to see you,” Bokuto grinned, nodding towards his best friend. “Akaashi is too!”

Akaashi just gave a nod and continued his conversation with one of your friends, as Bokuto patted your head lovingly, “I told you I’d come see you today, didn’t I?”

“You weren’t supposed to skip school for it, you idiot!” You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’ll go back, promise! I just wanted to see you,” Bokuto grinned.

The smile on your face was wider than before and yet Tsukishima still didn’t understand why. How were you still smiling? How were you standing there with everyone assuming that you were dating Bokuto and not dismissing all the quiet rumours that were starting?

Tsukishima finally found it in himself to walk away, Yamaguchi calling after him and following his footsteps. You had left him and replaced him with a top ace. Of course you had. It didn’t matter how much Tsukishima practiced or didn’t practice. He was never going to be better than him, and he was never going to get you back either.

Over the next few weeks, Tsukishima would hear about everything that Bokuto was and did. He saw posts on your Instagram, which he still glanced at every now and then, and even stole Yamaguchi’s phone sometimes to see your Snapchat stories.

You had everything you ever wanted now from the looks of it. Bokuto would come see you every weekend, even if it meant coming right after volleyball practice. He’d crash on your living room couch or on your floor and according to your Twitter, your mom loved him already.

He brought you flowers one time, completely out of the blue, and there it was on your Instagram. Bokuto with a huge smile on his face and holding them out to you. Tsukishima could just imagine the glow in your skin as you accepted them, that shy smile that you had given to him, what felt like a million years ago.

Yamaguchi watched as his friend tortured himself with your social media, glancing at it with eyes said that he didn’t care, but his bad mood was just getting worse every day. Everyone on the volleyball team knew it too, and even the somewhat-empty-headed players like Hinata and Noya didn’t say anything.

“They’re not dating you know,” Yamaguchi spoke up after a while as the two of them walked home. Tsukishima shoved his phone back in his pocket, as if Yamaguchi hadn’t just caught him glancing at his text message history with you to see if you had randomly messaged him. “I think Bokuto just really likes her but she told me she’s not ready.”

Tsukishima wanted to tell him he didn’t care, but those words just twisted in his mouth and he couldn’t even make a sound. He did care. How could he not? He had loved you, even if he was absolute shit at showing you.

“He’ll be good for her,” was all Tsukishima said after a moment, staring out to the distance and trying not to note the surprise on Yamaguchi’s face. He wanted to mean it. He wanted to be happy for you because your smile was all that mattered to him. But... he couldn’t stop from thinking... from wishing... that your smile was at him instead.

As if the gods themselves had decided to torture Tsukishima some more that day, as the two friends turned into Coach’s shop to grab some snacks, there he was standing right in front of them.

Bokuto Kōtarō with his idiotic smile and a handful of snacks and ramen packets that he was plopping onto the counter in front of Coach Ukai, “Just these please!”

Ukai glanced uncomfortably at Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, clearing his throat as he started to check Bokuto’s items out.

Tsukishima’s ears were going pink - of course even the Coach knew. He wanted to leave right then and there, pretend like he hadn’t even come here in the first place.

But before he could turn on his heels, Bokuto caught his eye. The two of them shared an awkward look, Yamaguchi trying to walk towards the back of the store so that Tsukishima could follow him.

“Look man-” Bokuto started stiffly, his chest puffing out just slightly as he tried to come up with the words.

“It’s the wrong kind,” Tsukishima interrupted, a cold glare shooting right into Bokuto’s eyes.

“Sorry?”

“The ramen.” Tsukishima walked over to the nearby stand and pulled out two different flavours, dropping them onto the counter. “Y/N doesn’t like that one. You grabbed the wrong one.”

He should’ve just walked away then and there, avoided any more confrontational conversations but he didn’t. The two of them just stared at each other, Bokuto looking back and forth between Tsukishima and the packets of ramen.

“Boys,” Ukai’s voice was low, as if warning them not to start a scuffle in his shop.

After a moment, Bokuto just gave Tsukishima a smile, patting him on the shoulder, “Thanks.”

Tsukishima still stood there, even as Bokuto paid for his items (minus the ramen packets that you didn’t like) and as Ukai handed him his bag. The Fukurōdani boy gave a small wave to Ukai and started to head out, the tension just starting to lift.

“She likes flowers,” Tsukishima’s voice cut through the air like a knife, words thudding into existence. “She says it makes her feel like someone is thinking of her without an occasion. And she likes to have her hand held in crowds because sometimes she gets nervous around so many people. She’s not going to text you a lot at first because she’s going to think she’s clingy… and that’s my fault. I made her think she was clingy. But she’s not. She just wants to know that you’re thinking of her and that you’re honest with her.” Tsukishima’s fists were clenched so tightly, his nails were starting to sting into his palms, “And she likes to go dancing. It doesn’t really matter where but she likes to dance to music.”

You could’ve heard a fly buzzing around, or a pin dropping against the floor with how quiet it got. Bokuto’s back was still to Tsukishima, tensing slightly the more that he talked but never fully turning around.

“Slow dance with her okay? Because… I never did with her and she always wanted me to. Do everything I didn’t do with her, alright?” Tsukishima’s voice was louder now, as if desperately pleading with Bokuto.

There was another pause in the air and Bokuto only turned his head slightly to just say, “You got it,” before disappearing.

Tsukishima didn’t realize it until after he had gone that there were tears in his eyes. He thought about every time he saw flowers and thought about giving them to you and how stupid he had thought the idea was. He remembered every moment that he didn’t respond back to you right away when he had the chance to, or when he asked you why you sent him so many things on social media. The picture of that sadness growing in your eyes would haunt him for a while.

Worst of all, was all those times you two had sat in the middle of a field, just listening to music and humming to yourselves. How often you had looked around to find no one around and begged him to come dance with you. He had thought it was stupid. How childish, he had thought.

But right now, he’d give anything to slow dance with you.

Guess it’s true, Tsukishima thought to himself as he rushed home, ignoring Yamaguchi calling for him. He wiped his face aggressively, not even caring how crooked his glasses were getting as more tears streamed down his face. You never really realize what you have until you lose it.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join :))

@al0ehas @aurumk @devilkittymusic @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo​ @darkvadeeer​ @haikyuutothetop​ @livy384​ @babyshoyo​ @jesssobs​

[bublinko]

🎶 The Ultimate Music Ask Game! 🎶

1. Are you an albums person or a singles person?

2. Do you still buy CDs (or other physical media)?

3. Do you listen to more oldies or more current stuff?

4. Is there a song you love but don't like its music video?

5. Is there a song you don't like but like its music video?

6. Who's an artist you really like but it's embarrassed to admit it?

7. Would you wear a t-shirt of a band you're not into?

8. Is there an artist or song that you like, despite being of a genre you don't usually like?

9. Do you have a favorite band?

10. Favorite solo artist?

11. Favorite songwriter?

12. Who’s the most obscure artist you listen to?

13. Who’s the most popular/mainstream artist you listen to?

14. A song or album from the 50s or earlier:

15. A song or album from the 60s:

16. A song or album from the 70s:

17. A song or album from the 80s:

18. A song or album from the 90s:

19. A song or album from the 2000s:

20. A song or album from the 2010s:

21. A song or album from this year or last year:

22. What’s your favorite song or album from the year you where born?

23. Do you and your partner/best friend share a special song? One you’d call “our song”?

24. Do you play any instruments?

25. Is there a song you used to like but can’t listen to anymore because you associate it with someone you don’t like?

26. Have you ever pretended to like an artist/song just to fit in or please somebody?

27. Do you enjoy making playlists? If so, are there any you’re proud of and would like to share?

28. Have you ever made/got a mixtape as gift to/from a friend?

29. Songs you love to dance to:

30. Songs you love to sing along to:

31. Who’s your favorite fictional band or artist?

32. When was the last time you cried when listening to a song, if ever?

33. Your favorite artist from your city/state/country?

34. Your favorite song in your native language (if it isn’t English) OR in your second language (if English is your first):

35. A song you like in a language you don’t speak:

36. A song you like with lyrics in two or more languages:

37. If you could travel in time and go to a concert of an artist who’s no longer alive or a band that’s no longer together, who would you choose?

38. Which was the first concert you went to?

39. Which was the last concert you went to?

40. Which was the best concert you’ve ever been to?

41. Have you ever been to a music festival? If not, would you like to go?

42. Your favorite(s) “no skips” album(s):

43. Do you enjoy musicals? If so, what’s your favorite?

44. Have you watched any musician’s biopics? Do you have a favorite?

45. A non-musical movie or show with a soundtrack you love:

46. Do you like comedy songs? If so, do you have a favorite?

47. Is there an artist you used to dislike but learned to like because of a friend’s influence?

48. Who’s an artist you think it’s criminally underrated and deserves more recognition?

49. Is there a cover you like more than the original version?

50. Is there an artist you used to love as a child/teenager but now is embarrassed to have ever liked?

51. Is there an artist you used to love as a child/teenager and still likes, even if you don’t listen to them as much?

52. Do you make playlists to be listened to in a specific order or in shuffle? Or both?

53. Is there a song you hated the first time you listened to but then loved after listening to it more times?

54. An album you loved since the first time you listened to:

55. An album you learned to love after listening to it again and again:

56. A song/album/artist you wish you could forget so you could have the experience of hearing it for the first time again:

57. [Send me a color and I'll tell you the first song it reminded me of.]

58. [Send me a song and I'll tell you the colors it made me think of, without looking at cover arts or music videos.] *Bonus: if you like making palettes, make one based on the song!

59. Do you listen to music when it's raining or do you stop to hear the sound of the rain?

60. [Send me a song and I'll tell you what time of the day or season of the year it made me think of.]

61. [Make me choose between two artists/songs/albums.]

62. Artists/bands you think have an impeccable discography, with no bad albums:

63. Do you prefer live recordings or studio recordings?

64. [Send me a color and I’ll post an album cover art of that color.]

65. Are there any songs you know the entire lyrics by heart?

66. Share your favorite playlists that you or someone else has made!

[reid-fiction]

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

In which you get sent on a little treasure hunt during the F.B.I Christmas party.

A/N: So...IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! In celebration, I decided to write a very fluffy, very Christmasey story because I’m worth it you’re all worth it ;) If you would like a song reference, you can listen to Randy Travis’ song, “Meet Me Under the Mistletoe” that was released the year I was born (coincidence, I swear). But, if you hate twangy country music from the 80′s, you can skip it. 

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

“Jingle Bells” was blasting through the speakers that Garcia had set up in the corner of the room. It was the 5th time tonight -  so far - that you had heard that song, and you knew you were going to be dreaming about sleigh bells in your sleep. The cup of eggnog in your hand was probably starting to become room temperature because you had only managed to sip at it for the last few hours in between small talk with everyone else at the party.

You weren’t having fun. 

Not because you didn’t like your co-workers or because you hated Christmas, you were just bored and had hoped to spend most of your night with a particularly tall and lanky genius that was, currently, nowhere to be found. 

It wasn’t that you needed Spencer to be there in order for you to have a good time, but his presence certainly made things more enjoyable for you. The two of you had a decently established flirtation going on for the last few months and, although it had yet to progress past that stage, you always hoped that he would take the plunge and make things more official. 

You glanced around the room, watching everyone from your office mingle and try to have conversations above the blaring music. You smiled, seeing Luke and Matt engaged in what seemed like a very passionate discussion which really didn’t match the tone of the gaudy, oversized Christmas sweaters they were both wearing. Garcia was on the other side of the room laughing over some joke that Rossi was telling. JJ and Will were standing next to each other while talking to Emily and Tara. But, no Spencer.

You took another sip of your eggnog and grimaced. It was warm, just as you had expected. You didn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone else, and you were seriously considering just making an early exit and calling it a night. Before you could move to deposit the rest of your drink down the drain, you saw one of the agents that worked at the desk across from yours start walking toward you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said, smiling. “I have something for you.”

You frowned in confusion. “You do?”

“Yeah, I was asked to give you this note.”

He held out a folded piece of paper to you, and you took it. When you opened it up, you saw only a few words scribbled inside. 

“Kitchen, in the fridge by the water jug.”

You read over the note several times, becoming increasingly confused each time. It read like a game of Clue and, considering your job, you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find a dead body in the fridge by the water jug. 

“Wait, what does this - “

You looked up as you were speaking and saw that the agent was already gone and you were left holding your room temperature eggnog and a weird murder confession. You had no idea what was going on, and you also had no idea who  had given the agent the note in the first place. 

You had two options, really. You could ignore the note and leave the party like you had been intending to. Or, you could go into the kitchen, open the fridge, and check the water jug. You knew Garcia’s place like the back of your hand, and you knew she wouldn’t mind if you went into her kitchen, so you trudged off in that direction and weaved your way through the crowds of people.

When you reached the kitchen, you walked over to the fridge and opened it. It took you a second to find the jug of water that was buried behind trays of food and other drinks for the party, but you carefully rearranged the puzzle of objects until you got to the water container and soon saw another similar looking piece of paper taped to the side.

“Living room, on the bottom of the painting over the couch.”

While you were relieved to find no sign of a dead body in Garcia’s refrigerator, you still had absolutely no idea what kind of game you were playing. You knew exactly which painting the mystery clue writer was referring to, and you also knew how many people were currently crowded in that room. 

You sighed, closing the door to the fridge and walking back toward the living room. You were already invested in this game, you might as well keep going. You had to awkwardly excuse yourself as you interrupted the three people who were sitting there in mid-conversation and ask if you could check something on the wall behind them. They gave you strange looks, but stood and allowed you to kneel on the couch and look at the painting. Sure enough, another note was taped to the bottom of the frame. You quickly grabbed it and gave a polite thanks to the three people who were still looking at you as though you had two heads. 

Your face burned a bit with embarrassment as you moved to a quieter part of the room to open the third note. 

“Front closet, in your coat pocket.”

At least this clue would be easy enough to find. You walked back through the groups of people until you got to the entryway and opened the closet door. You found your coat and rummaged into the pocket, feeling around until you found the piece of paper inside. 

“Outside by the tree, under the mistletoe (bring your coat, it’s chilly)”

This clue made your heart skip several beats. You knew which tree was being referred to, but the mention of mistletoe was new. If this was some sort of prank, you had to admit that the prankster was committed. But, if it wasn’t a prank? Who would have gone to all this trouble just to get you...

Your head shot up and you quickly glanced around the room again, taking a head count of everyone you saw. All the usual suspects were still there, except for one, and it was the one who hadn’t shown up in the first place. 

There was no way, right? It couldn’t be. 

You shoved your arms into the sleeves of your coat and left the apartment, taking the stairs two at a time until you were at the front door. The tree was just outside to the left and, as soon as you got outside and rounded the corner, you saw it.

You also saw him. 

The tree was draped in white Christmas lights that looked brilliant against the subtle dusting of snow that had fallen earlier that day. The street was pretty much deserted, and the flurries that were still falling from the sky hit the ground without a sound. 

Spencer was standing underneath the tree and smiled when he saw you. As you were walking toward him, you saw something else strung up in the tree branch just above his head. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what it was, and you shook your head in amused disbelief as you got up to him.

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“This is holiday tradition, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I guess. But, most people don’t set up a treasure hunt for it.”

You stood in front of him, watching your breath wisp out like smoke in the cold air. He shuffled back and forth on his heels, looking every bit as nervous and awkward as you currently felt. 

“So,” you said, breaking the silence between you, “are you going to carry on this tradition, or are we just going to stand out here underneath this tree until we freeze?”

Spencer smiled, looking down at the ground for a moment before he moved a few steps closer to you. He was only inches from you now, and you could feel the heat from his body helping to block the cold from hitting your own. 

He looked back at you, biting his lip before he reached out and took your face gently in his hands. You swallowed, feeling your heart rate speed up as he moved closer, tilting his head until he could capture your lips with his own. Your hands automatically wandered up until they settled on his waist.

It felt like time had stopped, and you honestly wished that it would. You could have stayed in his embrace forever and, while this wasn’t the first time you had kissed someone, it was certainly one of the most memorable. 

Much to your dismay, Spencer pulled back a few seconds later. Keeping his hands on your cheeks, he smiled at you and you felt your face flushing under his gaze.

“I can’t believe you went to all that trouble just so you could kiss me,” you said. “Especially considering this whole time you could have just asked.”

Spencer chuckled, leaning his forehead against your own. 

“I wanted it to be special,” he replied. “But, I promise that I’ll just ask next time.”

“Next time, hey?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “You’re already planning for a next time?”

“Quite a few times, actually. That is, if you want me to?”

You couldn’t help the somewhat incredulous sound that came out of your mouth. The idea that he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted him to kiss you was something you needed to change immediately. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Ask to kiss me again.”

He didn’t even have time to get the full question out before you answered by pulling him back to you again.

This was way better than finding a dead body in Garcia’s refrigerator. 

[dinthehottotty]

Cultural Differences - Part 1 - Din Djarin

Summary: Din proposes and you have no idea that you said yes. Not that you'd say no but you don't have the heart to tell him when you realize.

A/N: Before ya ask, yes, I do play assassin’s creed. I’m shamless, I don’t care.

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a sprinkling of angst, part two will have all the smut for @buttercup--bee​.

When you'd met Mando, you thought the same thing as everyone else from a glance. You believed him to be cold and dangerous. Very quickly did that entire idea go up in big, black smoke. It didn’t take long to watch this man ask for compliance rather than immediately demand it. He always did please and thank you’s when necessary and it was a surprise when that only got you hot and bothered.

Love was not on your radar when you joined his crew. Even now, months after you'd been working with him, you felt like you were pining for the man. That would imply that the awkward Mandalorian would ever foster the idea of a relationship with you. So instead you'd happily day dream your way through the days.

It was easy to do. There was no resentment at unspoken affection. You just loved both Mando and that little green bundle of wrinkles with everything in you. It always made you smile at how much he was an overprotective dad with his 50 year old baby. Even if he tried to deny that he was a dad now.

You found it too easy to tease him about it and your cute aggression reared it's ugly head. You were a person who's love language was physical touch. Constantly touching the bounty hunter surprised him in the beginning. But now it had no effect on him. You probably should have asked him more about Mandalorian culture because that would be your down fall with him.

It was a joke the first time you'd kissed his helmet. Planting a big, obnoxious kiss right on the top of his helmet when he was in the pilot seat and had maneuvered the razor crest out of quite the spot without killing you both. Now it was second nature to peck his helmet's cheek. A warm, friendly greeting when he'd returned from a hunt and when he departs for supplies. A quick smooch to his forehead and a pat to a pauldron as a thank you. Nudging his knee under the table at cantinas to tell him to calm down. A reassuring rub to his strong arms when Peli stresses him out too much. He even let you grasp his arm or thigh when you get excited about something. You were physically affectionate, you didn't think twice about gently bumping your forehead to his helmet when you were purposefully being annoying.

The last thing on your mind when doing this was actually whether or not Mando even thought much of it. He didn't tell you to stop, he never spoke about it, how were you to know.

One day, while Mando was on the floor trying to wear the kid out to go to sleep, you found teasing him all you could do. A light laugh bubbled up from you as his attempts failed repeatedly.

"Hand him over, Daddy." Squating down next to him. He turns his helmet towards you.

"I can handle it. Just go to bed," he orders, with no bark in his voice.

"Not a chance. Give 'im here." He heaves one of his heavy sighs before allowing you to scoop him up and into you. It was routine that you took the kid to bed most nights, Mando was okay with it, but he gives a frustrated sigh when the kid looks quickly like he's getting sleepy.

"Why is that so easy for you?"

"He's just used to me putting him to bed, Mando." You throw him a wink and bounce hip to hip as the kid jabbers sleepily.

There's a silence that feels a little heavy and the Mandalorian shuffles awkwardly. "I... I kind of wanted... nevermind," he cuts himself off, turning away.

That catches your attention very quickly. "No, no! Tell me, it's okay." Your hand darts out as he turns to leave and you catch his arm. He pauses even though he can easily push through it.

"I mean... you're like his mom. Kids like their mothers more. They sooth their children better and women are instinctivly better with kids." That startles you. Mando had never once referred to you as anymore than the kids nanny at any point. You weren't even originally hired to watch the kid.

You're cheeks flair up at that, burning uncomfortably and you feel... giddy perhaps? Did he think of you as a mom to his son? It catches you off guard.

"He definitely doesn't like me better," you reply softly and move closer. "I just put him to bed more often and it's close to bed time, that's all. Come here," you coax, your voice lowering to a warm tone. The bounty hunter twists reluctantly back towards you with slumped shoulders. The kid, who's half dozed in your arms, blinks up at him.

"He adores you, Mando, just take him."

"You don't have to-... its not a big deal."

"Take him," you insist. Finally he lifts the kid into his arms which makes the kid blink up with bigger eyes, a confused coo rising from him.

"Hes waking back up-"

"Shhh." You press forward, against Mando's arms as you run the pad of your thumb along the big ears. Softly you hum, no song in particular, and prompt the Mandalorian to sway with you both. It's a soft, intimate moment, that you never want to end.

It takes a few moments for the kid to settle back down and you hope it doesn't take to long but part of you longs for it not to end. The man-droid calling you his sons mother, or comparing you to one at the very least, is enough to fuel your longing for you employer with out a name for months.

At some point you glance up, expecting him to be watching his son. It paralyzes you when you find his visor trained on you. Gently you clear your throat, blush raising more on your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to overstep. I-"

Thunk.

The Mandalorian tilts his helmet forward and it knocks against your forehead suddenly. If you're honest, it actually hurts a bit with how hard he crashes his head into yours but suddenly the bunk feels so much smaller with him blocking the doorway. "You didn't." Is all he says, in his softest voice.

This was purposeful. He wanted to lean his head to yours. Not to be annoying. There was nothing practical about it, but he was doing it on purpose. Maybe he was feeling playful, you think. 

The both of you stay like that for a while, as you allow your eyes to close. It could have been seconds or hours but finally he shifts away to gently put the kid in his hammock.

"I have something for you." He admits.

"For me?" You repeat, a little dazed. He nods.

"You don't have to accept." You arch your eyebrow as you both exit the room and you watch him mosey over to his weapons vault. Your curious as you attempt to guess what it is mentally. You didn't need anything.

But then he drew out a bundle of fabric and brought it over with both hands. He doesn't say anything, instead he just holds the bundle. You pause, hesitantly taking it. It was heavy and solid with plenty of ridges. When you peel the fabric back, the beskar gleams and a surge of emotion rushes forward as you twist the gauntlet. As you look to the inside you see it, the hidden blade attached to the bottom, something you explained to him before.

A rite of passage from your assassin training on your home planet. Yours had long since broken and you couldn't wear it anymore and it had been two years. You’d only really brought it up to him once, cursing that you would of had the bounty he’d only had the chance to capture after he slipped from your grasp. Mando had given you a short, “I still got him,” and carried on until you were both in the safety of hyperspace. The bounty had been sealed away and you couldn’t even remember who it had been.

“Like a knife?” He prompts in a way that made you both confused and suspicious. 

“Knife? What knife?” you asked.

“You could have won the bounty if you had your blade?” he responded, he partially tipped your way. It was a bit odd of him to focus on that, a little out of character. You brushed it off, especially because he had previously explained that Mandalorians were religious about weapons. 

You hadn’t known much about them (really anything) before him. You just pegged him as having an unhealthy fixation about any type of new weapon.

“Oh, my hidden blade,” you hummed and leaned back, making a face. “It broke a while back. I was apart of an assassin’s group on my home world, they had a few initiation practices. The important one was when you get your hidden blade. It’s like a gauntlet without the hand and the blade sits on the inside of the wrist. When you flex your wrist, the blade extends. My safety broke on it, nearly lost my ring finger.” You’d wiggled your finger that had a deep scar on the inside of it. “Then the blade snapped clean in two and I haven’t found anyone to fix it. I have to go home, since the mechanisms are broken. There are so few of my people left, however, that I’ve just put it off.” Was your response. 

After that he’d never brought it up again. 

"Mando," your voice cracks as you glide your fingers across it. "Mando, it's beautiful." You slide it on. It's heavier than your used to, but it fits like a glove. A quick click and the blade shoots out with a flex of your wrist. "Thank you," you murmur before sinking the blade away and launching into a hug with him.

"Din." He says, making you peer up. "Din Djarin is my name." Your heart skips a beat against his chest. You gaze up at him for a moment, before smiling back down at it. You turn, switching the safety off, before twitching your wrist. The mechanism was backwards from what you were used to, but the shiny blade jutted out as fast as your original had. It’d take a while for you to adjust to the weight of it, but it’s like having a working prosthetic after missing a limb for years. 

“Din,” you test, “how did you get it to fit so well, my old one had straps I could adjust,” you ask. Drawing you eyes back up to the helmet, you let the big smile grow on your face. 

He clears his throat a bit and twists to look at the blade that slinked away almost soundlessly. “I... I would measure your wrist when I grabbed your arm. To move you or stop you while we were out.” You grin at him, switching the safety on so that you didn’t accidently stab him.

“I didn’t even notice!” You quickly, jerk forward and hug him. He squeezes you back eagerly but a thought occurs. “Wait,” you draw back to look at him. “This beskar, right?” 

“Yes.”

“I’m not Mandalorian, though. Won’t I get in trouble?”

“No, it’s given by a Mandalorian. There is no issue.” He promises and that’s the end of it because he thunks his helmet a little too hard against you again.

...

It goes on for months. Din suddenly being more physically affectionate with you. It makes you feel like you can have the softness that comes from a domestic relationship, the kind you never thought you could have. He called you something in Mando’a which seemed to change all the time. It was always at times you weren’t focused on what he was saying so you could never listen and try to look it up later. 

You had found a short list of terms people had translated from the lost and secretive language. Most were mean ones, and you’d only heard him use a couple of those, but never toward you... well... maybe one. But that’s not the point! You were so lost with him. 

It wasn’t until after nearly dying on Hoth, and then again on whatever water disaster of a planet this was. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And when Din dove in after those fisherman launched the kid in to be fed, you ripped those black market trades apart in sheer rage. Fortunately, or un fortunately, Mandalorians arrived and slaughtered more. You were happy to not have Din or the kid drown, but your want of revenge was exponential.

In short, it was a really rough week. One of the worst since the kid had arrived. He wouldn’t stop eating the frog lady’s kids that you were transporting. Not that your really surprised, but you were at the end of your rope.

Sitting in a warm little bar was nice. Between the kid warming himself in your arms and Din’s casual hand on your knee, you were simmering down. You were pressing yourself into din’s side, hoping to leach some of your warmth between his armor. He wasn’t even shivering anymore.

After quite the shock for the both of you when the other three took their helmets off, you had now been stunned into an exhausted mode. Anger had disappeared and replaced it’s self with the same distrust you felt radiating off Din. Shock seems to be the trend on this planet because one moment you’re ready to hear about the fall of Mandalore and the next Bo Katan is twisting to look directly at you. 

“I find it strange that you’re wearing beskar at a black market beskar port.” She throws at you. Everyone glances at your wrist. 

“It’s a gift.” Your rumbling response is the first words you’ve spoken to her from your sour mood. She lifts a condescending eyebrow at you. 

“From you I assume?” She asks Din. 

“Yes.” Is his response. 

“Why a gauntlet?” Bo Katan makes a face. A flick of the wrist and the blade makes and appearance. Eyes widen. “Ah. An engagement gift.” Your brain stuttered in your head. 

“How romantic,” her sidekick, Koska chirps. You were waiting for Din to deny it, all the while rushing through the encounter of when he gave it to you. Had Din proposed? Were you engaged to him this whole time? You weren’t even sure if he saw you in a romantic light, nevermind him actually wanting to marry you. 

“I’m surprised you accepted a proposal from a watcher. Can’t be easy to love someone if you can’t see their face.” Bo Katan remarks. Din’s head turns a little towards you, he’s trying to read you right now. He’s waiting for your response. Had he done this on purpose? He wouldn’t do it out of malace, that you’re certain on. You wouldn’t put it past him to go this long into a relationship and not talk about his feelings. 

“Hardly.” Koska smirks towards Bo Katan and you feel Din slowly let out a breath from beside you. You gently nudge his side. 

“But to never kiss, to never see his face, might be harder than you think.”

“She can see me once were married.” Those words shock you more than the actual announcement that you were engaged. It sealed it for you as well. This surprises those sitting across from you. The ring leader grins suddenly. 

“You really should communicate better with your partner. I don’t think she realized that you were even engaged to begin with.” Din swivels his head and you bite your lip as you’ve been caught red handed.

“You didn’t?” He asks, more of a demand. You wince.

“No, but even if I did know, I still would have accepted.” Din sighs, next to you, clearly frustrated. “In my defense, the only thing you asked me was, ‘Do you accept,’ which granted is a little cryptic, if I’m being honest.” Din takes a deep breath, shaking his head at you. 

“What normally takes place on your world? A gift, correct?”

“Yeah, a ring! Not a hidden blade, you dork. I will say, I prefer this, it’s much more practical.”

“You don’t know anything about Mandalorians, do you?” Bo Katan prompts.

You pass her a look. “I’d never even heard of a Mandalorian before I met him.” All three of them have amused reactions and Din just sinks more into your side. You drop your hand down to his knee. 

The conversation takes a new direction after that and your thankful to not have the attention on you anymore. 

It’s not until you have agreed to help the three of them that the both of you decide to take the oldest (and smallest) clan member to the frog lady’s house.

“If you don’t behave,” you murmur, bristling in the cold ocean breeze rolling through the streets, “I will allow the frog lady to eat you, okay?” you promise the kid. Din pulls you to a stop and the kid perks his tucked ears up, prepared for your betrothed to deny that promise.

“Were you pulling their leg in there? Did you really not know we were engaged?” 

“I mean, I suppose you were pretty forward with me, but I had no clue.”

“You think I was forward?” he demands. Uh oh. You were not expecting that response.

“What... what did I do that was forward?” You hear yourself ask when your not sure you want the answer. Din shakes his head at you. 

“The keldabe kisses?” 

“The what kisses? You mean me kissing your helmet?” 

“That too. Obviously, I’m not able to kiss you the way you’re used to. I won’t be able to until were married, so what Mandalorians do instead is the keldabe kiss.” His hands are placed on your shoulders to hold you in place and he leans down, thunking his helmet against your forehead. “This.” 

You’re eyes go wide as you think about the many times that you basically laid a big one on Din. “Did... did you consider us being in a... romantic relationship before you proposed?” 

“I believed we were, you didn’t?” What a question. Mortification filled you and you could feel your cheeks burning despite the brisk wind. “Do... do you love me?” Your chest aches deeply at the insecurity in Din’s voice. The sound that rumbles isn’t like his warm and gentle tone he usually has. It’s brittle and frail.

“Of course I do! I just... I thought we were just really close friends, that you didn’t see me in that way so I bottled it up and hid it away. I mean... I wanted to mean more to you, but I just... maker, I feel so stupid.” The kid coos with confusion in your arms as you pull away. “Din, I’m sorry.” 

“Do you want to marry me?” He asks so softly it’s almost taken by the wind. You find yourself immediately folding into his arms.

“Yes, Din, yes, I want to marry you. I love you.” You murmur the last part against his cape, feeling to shy to look at him when you say it. His rigid body soften around you and suddenly you’re clutched tightly to his chest. Tighter than he’s ever held you. Ironically, for the first time all day it feels like you can actually breathe. 

“Good... good.” He breathes near you. 

“Can we get out of the wind for a bit?” you prompt.

“Yes, let’s go.” Not how you were expecting your day to start... or end. But there are worse endings to bad days.

Tagging:

@lxdyred​, @boliv-jenta​, @amidjarin​, @buttercup--bee​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Silly Little Symphony - Bakugou Katsuki

Track 1: Paralyzer- Finger Eleven

—/—

Bakugou is not a fan of half-assing things.

He hates it, despises it actually. Bakugou feels like anything worth doing deserves 100% effort, and if you give it any less than that you might as well not even attempt it in the first place. That’s his motto and that’s what he sticks with and that’s what he’s doing right now, too. Obviously.

Except- why does it feel like he has to convince himself?

It’s like there’s this lingering feeling in his mind that he’s taking the easy way out. That he’s taking the cheater’s way out, but it’s- there’s just no other choice, alright?

Bakugou knows he’s a brave guy, knows that he could shred anything he set his sights on, but by that very same logic, he’s knows even more that he’s not a very soft guy. His feelings for you are his feelings, and yes he might acknowledge them, but that doesn’t mean he could ever communicate them delicately. Even when he runs fantasy scenarios in his head, the words still come out all wrong. They’re too loud and too brash and too forceful and you always end up offended.

Bakugou doesn’t want you to end up offended- at leasy more than you already have. So, he quickly decided on a different method of communication.

A playlist.

A playlist full of songs that convey what he’s been wanting to, but also sound angry and scary and tough- because he’s a tough guy who listens to nothing but rock and punk and metal, and has definitely has not searched up songs with your name in the title before, and has definitely not then added those songs to his library. Because that’s ridiculous and soft, and like determined before, Bakugou Katsuki is not soft.

What he actually is, is a guy with a playlist full of specially-curated songs. And a guy with absolutely no idea how to give them to you.

The thing is, he’s read manga and watched movies and read all sorts of articles about these types of confessions (not that he’d ever admit that), but none of those felt like him. He was not a smooth talker or a brazen flirt or even just a kind guy- no, Bakugou was mean and loud, and he knew full well that he’d much sooner be cast as the antagonist than the romantic lead.

So all of that was a problem, and then you also currently didn’t even like him. You made it very clear, though every sneer and comment and biting comeback, that only feeling you held for him was begrudging respect- and even that was only on the battlefield. Once he stepped out of the hero uniform than you were back to hating him, and he only made it worse with every childish insult he threw your way. Bakugou knew it was a stupid way to get your attention, but it was also the most efficient one; and he was a man of efficiency.

So that left him here- pining the same way he had been for weeks, staring down into a playlist full of songs he couldn’t figure out how to play for you.

He sneaks a look at you, red eyes just barely skimming over top of the bus seats. You’re sitting a few rows ahead, sharing a snack with Tsuyu.

Bakugou thinks you’re stupid. He thinks you’re stupid for eating junk food right before a day of training, and he thinks you’re stupid for choosing to sit all the way in front like a nerd, and most of all he thinks you’re stupid for sharing your snack with that damn frog face when he’s right there. And obviously much better in every comparable, concievable way. Obviously.

Bakugou presses his headphones more securely into ears, and slouches down deep into his seat. All he can see now is the back of the seat, and he thinks that’s a better alternative. At least it won’t piss him off- not like the sight of you, sitting up front and laughing where he can’t hear, will.

With a grunt, he hits shuffle on his playlist, turning the volume to max. He closes his eyes dropping his head against the window. Drum fills and a guitar riff flood his ears, and he’s relaxing a bit, sinking into the sound, and all is well and good until-

Well just look at that girl with the lights coming up in her eyes. She's got to be somebody's baby.

God dammit.

Fuck Phantom Planet. Bakugou thinks. Fuck them.

Then he’s growling as he hits the skip button, throwing his phone onto the seat next to him.

—/—

As it turns out, all Bakugou needed was to beat the ever-loving shit out of something.

Cracking his palms and shaking his limbs, Bakugou launches at another robot. He thinks the machines feel weak under his explosions, almost offensively feeble in their construction. Like all of U.A’s staff went braindead that morning- like they couldn’t even bother to cook him up a worthy opponent.

When Bakugou looks around, that’s clearly not a shared statement. There’s the usual standouts of course, stupid deku and stupid icyhot and even stupid dunce face is doing well for once, but the rest of them are average. Mediocre. Completely and utterly inferior to him- and then you enter.

Your quirk, blink, is a bit useless in this scenario, but you’re not letting that stop you. There’s purpose in your movements, quick and controlled actions as you strap your home-made bombs around the base of each robot’s leg. Machines don’t blink, so you’re shit out of luck for your main speed ability, but your training makes up the difference. With practiced ease you’ve darted out from beneath the robot’s feet, and then you’re hitting the detonate on your remote.

Bakugou thinks you look unreasonably fucking cool as you sprint away from the blast. So cool in fact, that he might even consider your tech explosions as cool as his quirk ones. Maybe.

Bakugou wipes his palms, muffling a yawn. He’d blown up all his assigned robots ages ago, and now was left kicking rocks and generally doing nothing.

This training was supposed to act as a benchmark test- the idea was to drop a similar opponent into the ring, one that emulated the entrance exam, to test how far everyone had come since the beginning of the semester. It could’ve been good in theory, but Bakugou thought it was just a waste of time. Robot’s were easy for him then and they sure as hell were easy for him now.

Still though, he was the first one to kill all his robots, so not all was lost. Bakugou still walked away a winner and that meant he was feeling much better than earlier.

Smirking with shameless pride, Bakugou saunted to the exit area. More students began to file in after him, and he kept mostly quiet, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when you walked past him.

“Fuckin’ fifth? With your overpowered-ass quirk?” He sneers, voice loud. “Waste of talent.”

Bakugou watches spin on your heels, watches your face melt into something deadly. You’re storming towards him, and he can’t even think past hoping you’d get a little closer.

“Robot’s don’t fucking blink, you jackass.” You’re red in the face and glaring, hands curling into fists at your sides. “You try getting. anything done without your quirk. Asshole.”

Then you’re stomping away, hardly giving him a second look as you cheer on your friends.

Bakugou can’t even begin to decipher what possessed him, to say those words, but he’s also not surprised. His words always come out wrong and he can’t say anything nice without wanting to scratch away his skin.

What he really wanted to say was that you were impressive even without your quirk. That you were admirably smart and tactical and well-prepared with your own bombs, and he thought that you looked really hot sprinting away from the wreckage- but that’s not what he said. Of course that’s not what he said.

Well, there goes his good mood. No amount of previous wins could ever distract him from how much of a loss that interaction was.

Eventually the rest of the class finishes, and then they’re all gathering breathless and tired back to the bus. Unfortunately, Kaminari fried himself completely and Mineta managed to break an ankle and that meant that they needed their own seats. That also meant that two people who had their own seats on the ride there, would now be sharing on the way back.

As shitty luck would have it, the class chose drawing straws as the deciding factor, and even worse than that, Bakugou got the shortest straw. The day was already shaping up to be pretty frustrating, but when you pulled the second-shortest straw it got even worse.

“We can always share instead, L/n!” Tsuyu’s says, hand on your shoulder and voice mediating. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Bakugou watched you sigh for a moment, and then you’re turning your head towards him. Your eyes meet his and Bakugou can’t help the smirk that rolls across his face- you’re looking at him and paying attention to him and even if it’s just you making a point he still likes that attention. He watches you squint your eyes at him in response, voice hard and steely as you speak to Tsuyu.

“No. It’s alright. We picked staws, and fair is fair.” Your squint morphs into a glare. “And besides, I’m not gonna let that smug bastard throw a fit into getting out of this.”

The statement should piss him off, and if anyone else said it it would’ve, but Bakugou finds it does the opposite. It just reaffirms how brave you are and how you’re not scared of him like everyone else is and how much he likes you for it- not that he’d ever tell you any of those things.

To save face, Bakugou instead pretends to be pissed about your words, his palms popping and crackling as he glares right back. He hopes it looks like a genuine threat and not a panic reaction, because really he just thinks you look so cool talking back to him directly like that and he definitely doesn’t know what to do with that. So instead he does what always works; what always makes him feel better when he gets a feeling too big to handle- he preps to blow shit up.

“Calm down, man. It’s just a seat.” Kirishima comes up behind him, pressing a water bottle into Bakugou’s crackling palms. “Here, take this and please don’t blow up the bus. Or L/n. That’d be so totally not heroic of you.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“No I’m serious, dude. Chill out, okay? L/n’s actually pretty nice once you get to know her.”

“I said, shut the hell up, Shitty Hair!” Bakugou barks, gritting his teeth.

Then he’s shoving his palms into his pockets, leaving Kirishima and the water behind, and stalking towards the bus before anyone else does. Bakugou figures that if he’s got to share a seat, then at least he’s going to be the one sat next to the window. He’ll make sure of it.

Still, there’s something sitting heavy in his stomach though- how does Kirishima know you’re nice?

The comment made his blood boil. Bakugou thinks it’s strange because usually he’s pretty tolerant of his friend, and even finds himself enjoying his company sometimes, but those words pissed Bakugou off. Pissed him off a lot.

”Wow, don’t look so goddamn thrilled.” You say sardonically, and Bakugou watches you drop into the seat next to him. “Might accidentally think you tolerate me, blasty.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that. Useless extra.”

Bakugou wants to smash his head into a wall- because why the fuck did he just say that?

Oh yeah, because apparently his jealousy was plastered all over his face, clear enough for you to comment on it. And even if you didn’t know that’s what the expression was, he’d still rather bite your head clean off than admit it was there in the first place.

“Yeah, whatever. I don’t want to fight.” You say, clenching your jaw as you settle back into the seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for both of us if we don’t talk, so I’ll just sit here and not bother you, alright?”

“Fine. Shut the hell up then.”

Once again, Bakugou wants to obliterate himself.

He doesn’t know why he can’t just tell you- why he can’t just say that he wants you to keep talking to him and that he wants you to keep snarking back at him. Why he can’t just say that he thinks your voice is one of the least grating ones in the whole class.

He thinks all of those things, but says none. Instead he keeps a fist clenched as his sides, scowling as he pulls out his headphones. He makes an intentional effort not to play your playlist and instead hits shuffle on all his music. He’d hoped that the loud drums and guitars would settle his emotions, but they didn’t. Nearly 10 minutes have passed and Bakugou’s as riled up as ever, but he’s also now completely convinced you’re trying to kill him.

You’re shifting in your seat, your arms extending out as you slip on your jacket. There’s little room, and every time you shuffle the sleeves to adjust them, you’re knocking your shoulders into his.

Then you stop.

You just stop and you go still and his skin isn’t tingling anymore and Bakugou is all kinds of pissed all over again. Because of you he’s nervous and flustered and you have the audacity to just sit there, unaffected. He has to snarl just to keep himself from blushing when he speaks.

“Why the fuck were you touching me?”

“It’s a small seat and I was putting on a jacket.” You reply, short and clipped. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“Tch. Just don’t do it again. And shut up the fuck up already.”

“You- you talked to me first!”

“And? Who the fuck cares?” Bakugou grunts, turning the volume of his music up. “Now shut up.”

Jesus christ. Bakugou thinks to himself. Maybe I should just blow myself up for once.

Another few minutes pass, and Bakugou swears he’s really is dying. You’re still so close to him and he’s feeling very, very flustered, and while he doesn’t love the idea that you’re mad at him, he can’t say he hates the look on your face right now either. You’ve got your jaw clenched and your eyebrows set low and your hands are balled into fists as you steadfastly ignore him. Bakugou thinks you look scary- fucking terrifying.

He likes terrifying.

“Hey.” You suddenly nudge him with your shoulder, pointing to his earbuds. “I can hear it- your music. Turn it down.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because that’s basic courtesy.”

“What the fuck makes you think I have that, hah?”

“Oh my god, you’re fucking impossible.” You rolls your eyes, heaving a frustrated sigh. “Listen, if you’re gonna keep it up that loud then at least skip that song. It’s shit.”

Bakugou glances down at his screen.

Fucking Nickleback.

Jesus, could his day get any worse?

“Shut the hell up.” He snaps, squinting his eyes. “What the fuck do you know about good music? You don’t know shit.”

“I know that song sucks, so skip it. If you’re gonna accost me with loud music at least make it good.” You bite back, and then Bakugou watches as your face melts into an easy smirk. “Unless... all your music is that terrible?”

“Sounds like you’re pickin’ a fuckin’ fight!”

“I am, you asshole!”

Bakugou doesn’t know when the two of you got so close, but now you’re only inches away. He’s got his palms up and you’ve got your lips pulled back into a snarl and suddenly the bus seat seems so much smaller. It’s so much smaller and all Bakugou can think about is the red in your cheeks and the fire in your eyes and how much he likes the sight of both.

“Just skip the song or turn it down.” You finally huff, falling back in your seat, and all Bakugou can think about is how that breathe would’ve been on his cheek if it was two seconds ago.

Bakugou is mad. He’s mad at you and your stupid witch powers that leave the air feeling cold and your stupid breaths that he can’t stop focusing on and your stupid comment. Your stupid comment that had his blood burning in his veins and irritation settling in his temple.

Bakugou listened to cool music, okay? Cool, loud music for cool, loud guys. You just insulted that, insulted him so this wasn’t just a means of confessing feelings anymore, it was a pride thing and that’s why he says what he said next. It’s definitely not because this was the golden chance he’d been waiting for.

“My music is fuckin’ good.” He growls, and then he’s yanking an earbud out and shoving it towards you. “I’ll fucking show you. Now shut up and listen.”

“So goddamn pushy, jesus.”

“You gonna fuckin’ take it or not?”

“Oh my god. Fine.”

Bakugou watches you fit the earbud into your ear, his mouth set into a determined line. He knew he’d fucked up every other part of this conversation, monumentally fucked them up even, but he wouldn’t mess this up. He was prepared and this was the chance he was waiting for. Only an absolute idiot could mess this up and Bakugou Katsuki was not an idiot.

So he plays the first song he’d added to your playlist. Paralyzer.

To his surprise, you start nodding your head almost immeadiately. You know this song. The drum fill starts and then you’re looking over at him, giving him the tiniest little smirk of approval.

“Not bad, blasty.”

“Fucking told ya.” He can’t help the pride that swells in him at your validation. It’s warm and heavy in his chest, nearly drawing a smile out of him- and then he remembers he’s supposed to be mad. “And I told you, don’t fucking call me that.”

“I’ll call you by your name when you call me by mine.”

“Wipe the smirk off your stupid fucking face,” Bakugou growls. “Or I’ll blast it off.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes! Fuckin’ try me, extra!”

“Okay.” You huff a laugh at him. “Don’t blink then. Champ.”

Then you’re raising your hand, shoving it in his face and snapping before he can stop you. Bakugou flinches out of reflex and by the time he’s opened his eyes, you’ve already used your super-speed ability.

You’re sitting back against the seat, calm and collected and smirking, with both of Bakugou’s earbuds in your ears. You’ve got his phone in your hand and he watches you twist the cord around your finger, cross your legs casually and he’s stunned. He’s pissed that you got the better of him, but he also just really thinks you’re hot when you’ve won. He watches in dazed silence as you turn up the volume on his phone to max.

Well I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you. I want to make you move because you're standing still.

Bakugou decides two things in that moment: One, he fucking hates Finger Eleven. And two, he wants to blow the entire fucking bus to smithereens.

—/—

eee i hope u all enjoy, but especially u @bakugouswh0r3 and @definitelynottrin :))

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Still Like the Letters in Your Name and How They Feel, Babe | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.4k

✦ modern AU

✦ loosely based on the song Still Feel Like Your Man by John Mayer.

✦ summary — you get snowed in with your ex-boyfriend.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of alcohol, language, fluff, dry humping.

✦ author’s note — the lovely @ohdangitsjay wanted me to write dry humping with Five for kinktober but the slot was taken already so I decided to add some of it here.

════════════════════════

Parties weren’t Five’s thing, much less work parties. He would have skipped the event if he hadn’t gotten a promotion less than four months ago.

He always sat on his own, not interested in his coworkers’ lives. He knew more than he needed already, not only because of their loose tongues but because they were open books.

He would’ve rather been at his place, alone like he had been spending his time for the past months.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get close to you.”

Five lifted his head out of courtesy, he had recognized his coworker’s voice immediately. She was pretty, he could admit that, but he had read her intentions months ago and he wasn’t interested. “Mmhmm. I know.”

“I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He felt buzzing in his pants and he didn’t know whether to thank whoever was calling or kill them for bothering him now. Lifting a hand so the woman in front of him wouldn’t speak furthermore, he withdrew his cellphone from his pocket.

Vanya’s photo almost blinded him. He cursed — he hadn’t lowered the screen brightness like a fucking idiot.

Excusing himself, he pushed his way out of the venue. Letting the phone ring in his grasp, allowing himself to take in a deep breath of fresh air, he stood under the cold night.

Vanya insisted which confused him, she always knew when to stop bothering him. And that night, even his coworker insisted. He shook his head as he saw her walk out of the venue, wrapped in her coat.

Taking the call just to avoid her, he grunted, “What?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as Vanya explained that she needed him to pick you up from a bar. Thinking the worst, he exhaled, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Not soon enough, it seems.” He dropped his phone in his coat this time. His coworker’s expression of hurt didn’t faze him, but he still explained himself, “Look, you’re not the problem, it’s just that I know your intentions and I’m taken.”

Five had never wished a lie he had told was true until now. He wasn’t taken anymore, but he was still yours, at least he felt like that. He’d never find another you, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to start looking either.

Tugging his car open, he withdrew his cellphone from his coat and slid into the driver seat. Five introduced the key into the clutch, yet he didn’t ignite the engine.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, considering the option of turning his phone off and coming up with an excuse days later. But he didn’t have it in him, not this time when he had a chance to see you — so many days after the morning you left.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he would be able to drown himself in alcohol to pretend it hadn’t happened.

His sister was already waiting for him near the entrance of the bar. Vanya turned her head to the side. Five followed the movement with his eyes and ultimately you came into vision. Only you would wear a dress in this weather, always claiming you never got cold.

He knew it wasn’t true, but you were stubborn. His siblings often said he wouldn’t have been so smitten if you weren’t as stubborn and they were right, he liked the challenge. And although he would never admit this out loud, he liked giving in to your stubbornness. He missed it.

You hadn’t realized he was there, head on your friend’s shoulder as they all talked. He could tell how drunk you were just by the lazy position of your hand on your lap.

“Why can’t you take her home?”

“No, God, no! You misunderstood what I said, Five. I need you to take her with you.”

Five gave his sister an incredulous look, hoping she was joking. When he realized Vanya was serious, he shook his head. “You know she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Besides, she’s drunk out of her mind, she might hug you instead of breaking your nose.”

He glared at her. Although his nose was more than fine, that punch hurt.

“Please? For me? I haven’t spent enough time with Sissy in weeks.”

“Too much information, Vanya!” he chastised, shaking his head as he walked past his sister.

It bordered on cruel, having you so close and knowing you would’ve been against it if you knew he was there.

Vanya placed a hand on his shoulder, not reassuring whatsoever as he defeatedly sighed. Only the two of you could convince him to do anything, and his sister still used it to her advantage.

He stood before you and your friends. Chatter died, you didn’t react. His eyes crossed your closest friend’s after Vanya, and as she nodded downward he understood that everybody thought you would be safer with him.

“Come on, (Name),” he said softly, hoping you wouldn’t make a scene.

You turned your head to the side, facing him. His breath faltered. Frowning, you just stared, mind too hazy to come up with a question to blurt even though a few crossed it.

How was work? Did Grace like the jacket you got for her? Are we going home soon?

He nudged his head to the side, signaling toward the exit. “Come on, you’ve got things to do tomorrow.”

Your friends tensed at his comment, but he didn’t think much of the gesture.

Sissy handed him your coat, watching him carefully. Five held the coat for you to slide your arms in, and out of habit helped you to fold it close and button it up.

You interlocked your arm with his, head lulling toward his shoulder. Vanya shoved your purse into his chest, prompting him to hold it in his hand as he gave her a final nod in goodbye.

════════════════════════

You woke up in an all too familiar room. Absolutely nothing had changed, the walls were the same blue walls you had stared at for hours as you waited for someone who cared more about their job than their girlfriend to get back from work.

By the looks of it, Five had been so busy that he didn't even have time to get rid of things you had gifted him. They were in the place they had been the last time you visited him — books stacked up, music records leaned against the other... the painting you had helped him choose still hung over his desk.

“Ah, you’re awake." His voice made you jump. "Coffee? An aspirin?”

You shuffled, pushing the duvet off your body in order to leave the bed. “Why am I here?”

The cold floor made you shiver. You searched for your shoes, looking down as you inwardly cursed yourself for wearing a dress when Vanya told you not to.

“You don’t remember going out last night? Vanya called me.” He tilted his head as he asked, frowning.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, slipping your shoes on before lifting your head to look at him. “But why didn’t you take me home?”

He winced. “Well, Vanya needed the apartment to herself.”

Dragging your eyes off him, not able to look at his face for too long, you whined, ”Unbelievable! She ditched me to get some pussy!”

Realizing your purse had been on the bed all this time, you popped it open and withdrew your phone. You looked at the time and your eyes widened. “Fuck, fuck. I’ll be late!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction. He looked so serious that it made your blood boil. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

He groaned. “We’re snowed in, idiot.”

“No, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not to me. Not today.” You stood by the window and peered out. He hadn’t lied, the streets were covered in white as snow, which was still falling, piled up. You would’ve found the scenery gorgeous if you weren’t so stressed. “FUCK!”

Only you had such bad luck... getting snowed in with your ex-boyfriend today from all days.

“I’m sure your mom will understand,” he tried to assure you.

In any other instance you would’ve found it sweet that he remembered you visited your mom every Saturday, or that he was trying to comfort you.

You corrected him, “I have a date today.”

“Oh.”

Unlocking your cellphone, you scrolled down your contact list. Your finger hovered over the call button. What would you say? ‘Hey, I’m sorry I can’t meet up with you today, I’m stuck in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment’?

Seeing your exasperation as you went through your phone, he painfully said, “Don’t be dramatic, your date must understand you can’t control the weather.”

“We had been putting this off for a while,” you confided him like you used to when he was your best friend, back when he hadn’t broken your heart yet and he still had time for you. “He’s so nice and sweet... “ you trailed off before sighing, “I was hoping not to ruin it.”

“Why didn’t Vanya call him if he’s so sweet?” he asked, voice laced with venom. He was challenging you to lie to him.

Honestly, you answered, “I’m guessing she doesn’t trust him.”

A shiver ran through you, prompting you to rub your arms.

Five walked toward his closet and opened the doors. “You left some clothes here, I’m sure you can find something in case you want to take a shower or get changed... ah! Your red sweatshirt is in the laundry room.”

Unable to keep it in, you shrieked, “You lent my clothes to other people?!”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, no malice in his tone, “I wore it myself.” Turning around, finding it hard to read your expression, he blurted, “Once.”

You did find something to wear, and for the second time that day, you felt as though nothing had changed. Nothing made more sense than having a space for your own clothes in his closet.

You entrenched yourself in the bathroom as soon as possible. Being around him was worse than you ever anticipated, you wanted to be angry and hostile yet you were too emotionally exhausted for that.

Failed interpersonal relationships were your norm. The day you met Vanya you felt as though you were having a friend for the first time; then Five came around and became your best friend, your confidant. Having him around used to be easy, even when you developed feelings for him.

The day you left him was one of the hardest days of your life. You didn’t cry, only numbness enveloped you in a tight grip — a grip you had gotten free from a little too late.

Your friends tried introducing you to people multiple times, but it never worked. It wasn’t because of Five, not entirely, you simply weren’t good with new people. And you missed Five, but that was different.

Missing him had become an afterthought, work kept you busy in the same stupid way it kept him. Guilt never took over you, why would it when you hadn’t neglected anyone because of your job? In fact, you were sure you would get over him soon when work became your priority.

Until a few minutes ago, the illusion had been good. What a sweet lie you told yourself for weeks and weeks.

You regretted entering the shower the second you turned around to grab some shampoo. Tears prickled your eyes the moment they fell on a familiar bottle. It didn’t have any marks of use, not a single gram dripped down the bottle, dry product was nowhere to be seen around the cap.

You confirmed that the bottle was brand new when you tested its weight in your grasp. A sob escaped you. Why would he keep your favorite shampoo in his shower?

You couldn’t bring yourself to use it, so instead, you grabbed Five’s shampoo and squeezed some onto your palm.

After a tear-ridden shower, you quickly got dressed and stood behind the door for a prolonged moment.

A heavy silence greeted you as you stepped into the living room. You had expected the sound of fingers against a keyboard or page flipping, but instead, you found Five slouched over his stomach with a piece of red fabric on his lap.

Feeling your presence, he murmured, “Here.” Five offered you the sweatshirt which you took hesitantly.

“I don’t use that shampoo anymore,” you blurted before you could process the words your entire being was desperate for him to hear.

He hummed, avoiding your face at every cost as he stared past you. He really needed to decorate the living room, at least a little bit. “You found a better one?”

“No,” you mumbled. Sliding the sweatshirt on, you waited for him to say something. Five didn’t, he stayed in the same position until you sat down beside him.

As he twisted his body to face you and his eyes landed on your face, you were able to see he had been crying too.

“What did your date say?” he asked, ever the masochist one.

You shrugged. “I haven’t texted him.”

“You should at least call your mom. Tell her you’re safe.”

Nodding slowly, you then turned your face to the other side. He didn’t mean anything more than exactly what he said and yet your heart thumped in your chest at a rhythm you had forgotten it was able to beat.

“She misses you. The whole family does.”

“Tell them I miss them too. Please.”

You sniffed, bolting off the couch. Walking into his bedroom, you tried to ignore the strong smell of his cologne as you blindly palmed the bed in search of your phone.

“Are you okay?”

Tears didn’t allow you to see him properly, but you could tell he was leaning on the doorway.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” you warned him, scared a fight would ensue if you spoke your mind. “My head hurts.”

You heard him move around the room, opening and closing a drawer. Then you felt him close, so close his breath fanned on the side of your face as he spoke, “It’s paracetamol, it’ll be gentler with your stomach.”

Blinking the tears away, you faced him — this time fully. Opening your palm, you waited for him to drop the pill onto it. Five looked down, softly placing the white circle on your palm.

Closing your fist around the pill, you threw your arms all over his neck. Taken by surprise, he felt his hands tremble as he placed them on your lower back.

Nothing extraordinary happened, and you loved it. He was just as warm as you remembered, and you were as comfortable in his arms this time as you had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, careful not to move you too harshly as he pulled you onto his chest, “so, so, so sorry. You can’t even imagine how stupid I feel.”

“Shhh, it’s fine.”

“We both know it isn’t.”

“Don’t wanna talk,” you reminded him.

So he hugged you tighter. And once again, it felt like nothing had changed — because nothing had, because the idea of moving on was nice on paper and nothing more.

“I’m pretty sure the pill melted in my hand...”

He snorted, begrudgingly parting from you. “I’ll get you some water and another one.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands and immediately splashed water onto your face. It was cold, but that was exactly what you were looking for in attempts to make your face less puffy after all that crying.

Five watched you in silence, ready to give you the pill and the glass.

Drying your hands, you thanked him and then proceeded to take the glass from his hand.

“Don’t go out with him,” Five pleaded, unable to keep it in for longer. “I don’t deserve it, but please give me a second chance.”

You glared at him as you snatched the pill from his open palm. Instead of giving him an answer, you swallowed the pill.

He took this as a sign that you needed more convincing. “I promise I’ll spend every second of my free time with you.”

You lowered the glass before you could take another sip of water, scoffing as you walked toward the window once again. “Oh, come on, Five, I never asked for that. I just wanted you to put some effort.”

“I’ll do that, then. Anything.”

“Can you really do that?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, placing the glass down onto the bedside table. You were always so eager to believe in him... you could only hope this time your heart didn’t end up in tiny pieces. “It’s obvious that I don’t need much convincing.”

“That’s fine by me.” Five shrugged, looking down at his hands.

You grabbed his hands, making him look at you. He intertwined your fingers with his, biting his bottom lip as you lifted your eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh upon realizing you were waiting for him to kiss you and for a millisecond considered teasing you, but you knew him so well that you had seen through his nervous demeanor.

Leaning in, he stared into your eyes in search for permission. You tilted your head, brushing your nose with his, fanning your breath on his lips. Five’s mouth met yours in the middle, slowly at the beginning.

You let go of his hands, snaking your arms around his neck to bring him closer. His hands found home on your waist, just as he picked up his pace.

As a moan slid past your lips, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Five moved one of his hands to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Breathless, you were forced to barely push him away. You stared at his red lips as you gasped for air, ragged breath mingling with his own.

And then his lips were on yours again. The hand on the back of your head fell to your spine as he walked you backward. Five laid you on the bed, careful not to hurt you yet never taking his lips off yours.

Pressing kisses on the side of your neck, he roughly grabbed your hips, making you moan as his hard-on was pressed against your crotch.

Your hips worked against his in sync, so naturally that you still had half a mind to wonder how the fuck you had lasted this long without him all over you.

Five’s groans grew deliciously deep as his hands trailed down to massage your thighs. His mouth sucked on your neck as he pulled you flush against him.

You inwardly thanked whichever God existed for the cold weather. Not only did Five look amazing in sweatpants, but the soft material allowed you to feel the outline of his hard cock even through your leggings as he humped you.

“Would really love to fuck you,” you panted, “but there’s no way I’m taking my clothes off right now. I’m freezing!“

He laughed against your skin. One of his hands left your thigh and he tugged on the covers, draping them over both of you, covering yourselves from head to toes.

Five continued to kiss your neck, still moving his hips against yours albeit more slowly.

“I missed you,” he spoke before you could mutter a teasing comment about how desperate he was for you.

You played with the small hairs on the back of his head, humming as you rocked up against him. “I missed you too. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said cheekily, letting his weight fall on top of you as he leaned into your touch.

You relaxed against the mattress as his warmth combined with the shielding covers seeped through you. Five slipped an arm under your head, fingers brushing your neck as his other hand came up to softly grip your face.

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing he wanted to say something.

“We didn’t call your mom.”

You breathed out a small laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to see her today, don’t worry.”

He tensed over you, frowning as he processed what you had just said. Deciding to ignore the fact that you were probably planning to hook up with your date, Five slowly lowered his head so it would rest on your chest.

It didn’t matter what you had planned to do when you were there under him. He was still your man, he had felt as such ever since the day you met — and he wouldn’t fuck it up a second time.

[xbarrjallenx]

Game Night

Pairing: Hargreeves!Siblings x Gender-Neutral!Sibling!Reader

Summary: The Hargreeves siblings bonded with each other through their game night, a moment when peace and quiet weren’t welcome in their house.

Requested: Yes / No

Word count: 1.413

Posted: 14.08.2020

Warning(s): Siblings banter, swearing

Song inspiration: - 

A/N: Hello, guys! It has been a while since I last posted something and I am truly sorry, but I was in a really bad place for a very long time. Gladly, The Umbrella Academy season 2 came out recently and it gave me some inspirations to continue my writing. It’s my first TUA imagine, so comments and feedbacks are highly appreciated. Also, English is not my first language and my writing is very rusty and inexperient. - G. x

Take note: Ben is alive.

Links: Masterlist | Song inspirations | Support My Writing

“UNO!” Klaus excitedly announced as he threw his next-to-last UNO card on the wooden centre table, only one card remaining on his left hand. You, together with your other six siblings, shot him a sharp death glare, miffed and tired of him and his actions.

It was the Hargreeves siblings’ game night and the game was either UNO or Monopoly. Everyone happily chose the former, outnumbering the latter, to avoid another huge family mess - Monopoly ruined your relationship with each other many times and the last game turned out so badly that Allison and Diego almost killed Five for bankrupting them.

“What do you mean UNO again?” Diego frustratingly asked his brother, grip tightening around the massive deck of cards in his hand. He got a huge chain of Draw Twos and Wild Draw Fours in the previous turn, needing to draw eighteen cards in total for the stacking penalty. 

Klaus nonchalantly laughed, grabbing another bottle of beer from the table. “It’s just a game. Chill out, Diego!” 

Ben took a stinging and deep sigh, frowning as he faced Klaus once again. “Yes, it is just a game, but we have been playing for more than an hour now and neither of us has won, except for you.”

“Sore losers!” The defending champion playfully remarked, enjoying his siblings’ disputes while admiring his new bottle of beer.

“Shut the fuck up!” You all shouted in unison while you threw every cushion towards Klaus’ direction. 

Klaus kept on laughing, neatly hiding his precious card under a cushion as he grabbed the bottle opener. “I am loving this moment so much!”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of beer. “I swear, Klaus! If you’re using your powers again to win this game, you’re dead.” 

“I bet he is!” Luther commented and the rest of the siblings agreed to his statement, Ben and Vanya shaking their heads in disbelief. 

Klaus nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “It’s not my fault if I am extremely talented.” 

“Yeah, Cheater, your Caspers should be banned from this house.” Diego muttered, eyes now focused on his deck. 

“Klaus, you are no fun!” Ben pointed out, remembering him the rules of not using your powers during game night soon after.

Five obnoxiously cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention. “Are we done crying? You are interrupting my turn!”  

“Bitchy!” Allison and Vanya declared, both of them giving him a go on playing his card.

“Thank you, sisters!” Five sarcastically replied, throwing a Wild Card after taking a huge bite out of his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. “Yellow!” 

“We are technically against Klaus right now, Five.” Ben rolled his eyes as he had to fish a card.

“Well, actually, thank you, Five!” Vanya proudly smiled, enthusiastically dropping her second last card on the table. “UNO!” 

The champion’s eyes suddenly grew wide, alarmed that he might lose this turn, and Vanya gave him a toothy smile as you and your siblings noisily cheered for her. 

“Luther, please have a reverse card!” You hoped as you played your yellow card. 

“Boring deck, sorry!” Luther sincerely apologised as he dropped a normal yellow card, passing the turn to Diego.

Diego attentively observed his cards and he exasperatedly looked at all of you. “All of these cards, but no fucking yellow. Five, you son of a bitch, where did you learn how to shuffle cards? You’re so bad at it!” 

“Maybe the Game Gods just hate you so much, Diego!” Five counter-attacked and loud chuckles flew across the room. 

“He’s just a kid, Diego,” You playfully pointed out, earning a round of laughter from your siblings. “cut him some slack.” 

“Oh, fucking shut up, (Y/N)!” Five fiercely responded and you laughed louder than the usual, realising how much of a crier the Hargreeves siblings were. 

“Fish a card, loser!” Allison demandingly obligated Diego and he grumbled in response, reporting that he has almost lost his patience for the shitty game that you were playing.

“Please don’t let Klaus win, Allison.” Ben sweetly pleaded, his sweet puppy dog eyes showing.

“Sis, I am about to win,” Vanya reminded her, happily shaking her last UNO card. “please skip Klaus.”

Allison guiltily looked at her cards and silently mumbled an apology, playing a normal yellow card and letting Klaus proceed on his turn. Everyone around the table groaned and hoped that he wasn’t holding a yellow or a same-numbered card.

“Yeah, hate me all you want,” Klaus proudly sang after drinking his beer bottom up, throwing his last card soon after. “but I still fucking won.” 

Complaints and insults flew across the room while the winner celebrated and gave high fives on different empty spots behind him. 

“Fuck you and your ghosts, Cheater!” Ben playfully exclaimed, grip still tight on his cards. 

“You would be my ghost bitch, if (Y/N) didn’t save you that night, idiot!” Klaus reminded him, making Ben sigh exasperatedly. You were shocked that Klaus brought the incident up once again, but before you could comment on it, Diego has already spoken up.

“I am so done with these stupid games.” He messily threw his cards on the table. “Can we abolish game night, please? All of us are, now, adults. Well, most of us.”

“Just because the Game Gods are against you, you want to abolish Hargreeves siblings’ game night? That’s unfair, bro! Besides, it’s the only time we don’t stress about our adulthood.” It was impossible that Diego hadn’t got a possible move earlier so you checked his cards properly and you judgingly looked at him. “For fucking real, dumbass? I refuse to believe this.” 

The siblings started shutting their mouths up and they paid you their whole attention, eyes filled with curiosity. “What?” 

You grabbed a special card from Diego’s deck and raised it in the air. “Diego had the Swap Hand Card and never played it!”

Diego furrowed his eyebrows, not fully understanding what you meant. “The what?” 

“Swap Hand Card.” You repeated. “It meant that you could fucking swap cards to anyone you wanted.” 

“What the hell?” He was still confused, but frustration quickly wrapped his face as soon as he processed the new information. “I thought it was just a Jolly card and I had it in all of the previous games.” 

The room was soonly filled with laughter and insults towards your idiot brother. 

“For fuck’s sake, Diego!” Luther shook his head in disappointment as he loudly laughed, relishing how the Kraken immediately lost his cool.

“We painfully watched Klaus win all the damn time when you had the chance to win big time.” Five smartly observed. “Good job, bro!” 

Diego was vexed and the jokes that you and your siblings were throwing at him surely didn’t help on calming himself down. “Fuck you, all of you!” He grabbed the whole deck of UNO cards and violently tossed it across the living room, messily scattering it everywhere. 

“Classic, Diego!” Allison slowly clapped, mocking her sibling even more.

“Cool move, dimwit!” Klaus joined his sister in and whistled, exaggeratedly clapping afterwards.

Diego flashed his middle fingers and started heading out of the living room, leaving you and your siblings in shambles.

“At least, pick up the cards, asshole!” Five fiercely shouted.

“Leave me alone, kid!” Diego shouted back and Five was about to teleport towards Diego to fight him, but Luther and Vanya grabbed his elbows to stop him. 

“Don’t, you might get hurt big time,” Vanya looked at her brother and flashed a playful smirk. “kid.” 

Five groaned and everyone just laughed tumultuously. “I am the oldest one here, stop calling me a kid.”

“You’re thirteen, fly down, child!” You joked, poking the bear even more with your invisible stick.

Five shook his body to take Luther and Vanya’s hands off of him and showed his middle fingers to flip you off.

“Classy, huh?” You watched him chug his black coffee down, aggressively finishing his favourite sandwich subsequently.

“Well, that was fun!” Ben admitted with a huge smile on his face and Vanya softly smiled back at him to agree on his truthful statement.

Game night was fun, huh? Well, it was, but you were glad it happened only once every two weeks or else the Hargreeves’ residence would not find its peace and quiet ever again.

“You all are so hilarious, guys. My ghosts are having so much fun watching you!” Klaus approached as soon as every sibling has calmed down. “Another round?” 

“Fuck off, Klaus!” 

[blu3mila]

PUSHIT

it’s a song by Tool that i’ve been sitting with for a little over a month now, wanting to say something. tried it in several ways and decided on a post overview, so here comes a stack of thoughts.

my first go at it was a painting. it came from scrambling, a part of the song that stuck with me from the start:

“You're pushing, and shoving, and scrambling To keep my feet flat on the ground”

i painted it, painted what sounded exactly like scrambling, like a shuffle, like kicking with enough desperation for it to land on something, anything. didn’t post.

i thought of Children next: ”We Will Adore Our Children“, a text i published last November. the concepts that i wanted to pinpoint with it got shown, but i know i mostly i skirted along the edges there. a conversation i had about that work left me with a phrase that i’m still carrying now: “a backdoor for disgusting”. the vital subtlety of handling certain topics.

i didn’t want anything readable and i didn’t publish my first painting. i reread Children. i felt, once again, the funny kinship, closeness, understanding, dialogue with another piece.

“And if when I say I might fade like a sigh if I stay You minimize my movement anyway I must persuade you another way”

it’s comforting to find something to relate to especially if it’s this specific, and it’s heartbreaking to not really, actually have a human connection with that. some sad isolation. i wrote this text.

i adore what the song accomplishes in its 10 minutes. there’s a repetition that links the whole story, the song starts with it:

“I saw the gap again today”

a scene that gets mentioned three times, three times that can be compared. the first one carrying the setting tone, “how things are”. the second one:

“I'm slipping back into the gap again”

escalates. still the same, the same familiar scene, but this time it just so happens to grow into an outward fight. the way the music supports this feeling is what hooked me in the first time: it feels and sounds like a fight. no break in the middle, it keeps going and going till it ends and leaves you to pick up the pieces. 

then picking up the pieces… no time is wasted here. it could be called a moment of quiet on which to build a climax, something to contrast with and… yeah, but what i adore here is the way it plays into the concept as well. putting this quiet passage right after a fight; it feels like a journey, the one that is made with one’s feelings. yet another “this can’t go on like this” but here it somehow actually leads somewhere. very hollow, tired out stating of the facts:

“You put me somewhere I don't wanna be”

coming to the first conclusion:

“Never want to see that place again”

notice how the music changes through this, how the tone changes with this conclusion. how the tone stresses that it is a conclusion, a decision made. good or bad doesn’t even matter comparatively, what matters is that it is change. something to move from. something that promises that the next time you see the gap, you’ve already given in to something, accepted that it won’t stay the same. then it comes the third time:

“Saw that gap again today Managed to push myself away And you, as well, my dear”

how the music comes with, how it sounds joyous, how it feels almost excited to do something different, something new, something that isn’t repeating the same old rotten pattern. when the next phrase comes sounding like a prayer, it delivers the cemented decision: 

“And if when I say I might fade like a sigh if I stay You minimize my movement anyway I must persuade you another way”

what gets to me the most here is the wording: it’s the “if” that i didn’t even notice the first couple times around.

i can’t tell if it really is that big or if it’s something subjective, but… it seals the deal for me. it’s written with so much awareness of how these things go: it makes the whole passage a logical argument.

it’s not “you do this and that, and i need to do something”. it’s not, because really, what does it matter if “you do this and that”? you’ve done it forever and i’ve taken it before, i don’t “need” to do anything. see the pattern? see how easily it slips away, the sympathy for the self? the hint of an idea that you don’t “need” to take it?

this is what the “if” changes, though. it frames the whole thing as an argument, as a logical conclusion, as a fact. and feelings and personal needs don’t matter, but facts can. this is how you trick yourself into bettering the situation, you say: “IF you do this and that regardless of my plea, THEN i do something”. it’s a subtle little thing in the wording but presenting it as an “action and logical, planned response” rather than “action and my reaction, my, god forbid, feelings” is what sells to the mind that is used to coping with an inescapable situation. or previously inescapable. it’s nothing factual, nothing actually different in the meaning behind the packaging of words, but it’s how convincing, proving things to yourself can be.

whatever, there goes the revelation! it’s sung, it resonates and rises above the gloom and the rot, and does so in a beautifully realistic way: not by anything kind and loving but by admitting that it’s all about pushing and shoving and pushing.

it is dear to me how this idea is directly faced, how the song breaks out into something living, colourful, pushes through with survival. how the shape that this survival takes is violence.

“Remember I'll always love you As I claw your fucking throat away” 

how anger is a sign of healing. how anger is a fucking sign of healing. this concept keeps blowing me away still.

i love understanding what has pained me in the idea of “acceptance, forgiving and moving on”: it’s the fact that often enough people skip the anger in the process. no, people expect others to skip the anger and that skewers the whole thing, turns it into a different beast altogether. 

going from a place of being hurt, having that hurt, internalizing that hurt and the reasoning for it… what would happen if the anger stage was skipped? if you were told “forgive them and move on, it’ll be easier” without having first reached the anger, the stage where a person realizes that the whole experience was, like, no-go?

possibly there will be no realizing altogether. outwardly or inwardly, the blame will stick and be the main feeling behind the experience. it will be internalized with nothing to balance it out. it will be cemented in the shape of the one that hurt, but it will no longer be a separate being, it’ll live in you. anger is the barrier, the understanding that it has never been even, that one side fucking HURT the other. whether it ever gets to peace with the other is not even that important, peace with self is. switching the self-blame for anger is, any day.

i believe the song celebrates it, but most importantly, it shows how it is a cycle. now it’s in you, the pushing and shoving, now it’s the first response to anything remotely resembling a threat. it’s the price, no, not price, it’s the consequence of having made it out.

i love how this song has the whole journey in it. i love this song, i love it as an art piece. i love how the concept for it was put together with the medium, how it managed to say all that and make it feel like what it was saying.

i also love that the theme goes through the entire album and other songs add to the picture. if “Pushit” shows coming into anger/survival, then “H.” definitely addresses the cost of that reaction. and it does that with so much empathy that it breaks my heart a little. but yeah, the struggle goes on and whatever, there are like other Tool albums out there…

[appleflavoredkitkats]

What about other ppl in the smp, like Eret, Niki, Jack? Do they go to Las Nevadas? Are Eret and Fundy still friends?

HEYO THANK YOU FOR ASKING MORE ABT THE AU BC I DEEPLY APPRECIATE IT <33 /g

tw: gambling, drinking, self-neglect, slight eating disorder, mentions of past violence

/dsmp /rp

i'd like to this this au is set in a period after wilbur's resurrection and dream's prison escape where the entire smp is like. well, we're fucked— time to get wasted now!

quackity would originally look down upon eret, puffy, h, and punz because of the entire monarchy fiasco, but after knowing how rich eret was, quackity would let them slide. they don't seem to be a threat of power anyway, so why should he care? i also think eret might've helped supplied las nevadas too, maybe just simple materials here and there thanks to fundy's requests.

fundy has talked to eret multiple times whenever he visits. eret is good at stopping themselves from getting too addicted to alcohol or gambling, so they would be sober or healthy enough for fundy to have conversations with. eret has even probably had sleepovers with fundy because eret is still genuinely concerned about his wellbeing, you know? because to eret, it feels odd that fundy doesn't seem as lively as he used to be, even if he is still quite enthusiastic when he works, it still isn't the same.

eret often asks fundy about family. i think that's the main thing they always talk about— family, and found family. eret has found a family with the knights he's hired and giving shelter to all of the ex-members of the eggpire. eret's main concern is fundy, and if he could ever forgive them for missing the adoption. and fundy doesn't really know actually, because he is still quite hurt about it, but he's definitely moved on. he still values eret as a good friend, and eret reciprocates, and i guess that's what matters to him.

but in terms of family, fundy doesn't really know if he wants to label anything as family due to his trust issues. he often vents to eret about these problems, especially in the earlier stages of las nevadas. he's scared that if he ever labels something as family, they'd just leave him anyway, so he prefers not having a family. but eret still insists its important for fundy to have some type of support system, but this is where fundy tends to change the topic, and eret can't do anything but hopelessly nod along.

but there's a time that definitely changed! there's a time eret did hangout with fundy, do a simple sleepover like old times, and they woke up once to quackity and schlatt entering fundy's room with a tray of food. eret asked them what the food was for, especially since this didn't happen last time eret was here, but quackity replies that he kind of got used to it out of habit, especially since fundy doesn't really notice that he skips meals every now and then.

and eret is kind of surprised they care?? in a good way of course, because they're all. oh, fundy HAS found a better family to care for him. quackity and schlatt bids eret a good day before leaving, and eret approaches the tray of food quietly. there's a note placed atop. on the note, there's a to-do list for fundy with simple things like “remember to eat” or “remember to take breaks” or “lessen your cigarette intake”, and on the back, there seems to be a long note left by quackity. eret didn't want to invade fundy's privacy too much, but they did remember glancing at a small note that said “you are loved. take care of yourself, and never forget that” written somewhere on the paper.

NOW FOR NIKI! niki does visit, she visits a LOT, and she loves the upbeat vibes of las nevadas, anything with popping colors and enthusiastic moods are such a turn on for her, and she just loves to stay there for multiple days on end. the syndicate would be often concerned about her wellbeing, but niki ensures she doesn't really get too drunk or gamble too much.

(the drinking statement is debatable because, surprisingly, niki has a high tolerance for alcohol, so she drinks a LOT. where was this when she was having her villain arc?)

she's honestly just happy to be there, and she just likes to dance and groove! there's a thrill in las nevadas she never really experienced much in her life, and she's happy she can basically vibe here without worrying about betrayal or death every five seconds.

on the dance floor, she has danced with a couple of people. the first one she does dance with accidentally is schlatt, who seems to be Very Awkward when it comes to dancing. he honestly wasn't even supposed to be there— niki thinks he might've lost a bet or something? but niki still tried to make do with what she was given.

the most interesting conversations niki has had in her life has got to be the ones she has on the dance floor. when it came to schlatt, he was mumbling a lot, very awkward and tense knowing the state of their relationship during the manberg era, but niki puts that aside. because there's no point on lingering on the past for too long— she's talked to puffy and the syndicate about this far too many times— so she grabs schlatt and twirls him around like nothing has happened. he never really got to apologize, but he did give niki a fun dance, and you know what? it was fun! so that's all that matters.

quackity was the second one she's danced with, and quackity is the opposite of schlatt. he was charming, enthusiastic, extremely extroverted, and niki definitely enjoyed it! but to niki, she knows quackity isn't always this upbeat, or this loud and obnoxiously in your face, so when a slower song plays, she asks quackity if he can just shuffle alongside her slowly and follow her mellow footsteps. he calms, and she calms, and the conversations had dwindled into something more familiar. after a certain while, quackity admits that he's missed this, he's missed being vulnerable, he's missed being genuine, he's missed being soft and laidback, so niki tells him thst he's allowed to be that way for the rest of the dance.

and last person she's danced with was fundy. and fundy, she's definitely talked with before the dance, but she also calls in eret to join them. they boogie to an upbeat rhythm, dancing as if this feeling of euphoria and happiness was something they've experienced all their lives. niki knows that, often, whenever they meet up, there's always something that reminds them of their past faults, so they never got to be the way they were before the wars. so now, niki tries her best to make it different. that fun they had when they pranked tommy in the past, or find foxes together, or build weird statues— she will try her best reincarnate those feelings of pure happiness through stupid dance moves and stupid jokes because she misses it, and she will try her best to fix the friendship so that it'll be same, perfect thing it once was.

jack is pretty complicated, because i don't know much about jack, but i'd say he is one of quackity's... less responsible business partners. knowing jack, fundy and schlatt try their best to not get quackity to jump on his ass because quackity often gets mad at the ridiculous deals and offers jack gives.

i'd say that jack is just... having a pretty rough time. fundy and schlatt denote that he's kind of lonely, and his demeanor is very similar to quackity's wherein he uses irritation and/charm to mask the hurt they experience. and quackity... does soften up to that. he knows what it's like to feel alone and be left alone by people out of nowhere, so quackity decides to give jack another kind of offer: jack transfers ownership of their hotel back to tommy, and quackity will give jack a job offer to work at las nevadas' hotel. in that way, quackity doesn't need to make multiple exchanges with jack's business; he just needs jack to work for him lmao

so yeah, it's kind of a lax job. the hotel isn't the most booked all the time, but jack does enjoy managing the front desk since quackity actually allows him to get mad at shitty customers lmao. jack doesn't stay there 24/7 of course—if he wants to leave, he can just depend on fundy's redstone to do the work—but he does like working there because nobody looks down upon him. he feels like he has something he can do that he can do well, and nobody is looking at him as if he was inferior. sure, quackity and him are still not on the best terms, but jack doesn't feel like he's being belittled at all.

i'd say jack and sam kind of are friends too? because while schlatt, quackity, and fundy have their own thing, sam and jack manage las nevadas more on the sidelines, but they relate at the fact that they just casually do their own thing in las nevadas. it doesn't feel too awful or violent or belittling— it just feels normal.

sometimes, jack would visit the bar right after it closes to just. drink and talk to sam about... well, anything, really. these talks would typically last through the day, and they're kinda just glad they have found someone to talk to about, well, anything. it's hard to find a feeling of normalcy in the dream smp, let alone a feeling of peace and serenity, so even if they find this chill ambiance in a bar or a casino, they both still revel in the feeling of peace. they're happy with it, so they'll do whatever they can to maintain it.