#But hey now I have tags for each group because they hang out by generation

[beanmachine69]

can you write a fake dating situation with lance stroll??

Now and Later | Lance Stroll

Fuck, not this again. 

This was one of the reasons you avoided hanging out with this particular group of friends back at home. Sure, they were great fun and all, but they all still had your stupid ex on instagram and were quite fond of posting stories- location tag and all included. They weren’t super close to you, but since you landed that fancy job in the media management department for Aston Martin, they just loved to pretend like they gave a damn about you or your life. Clubbing with them was fun though, and you needed a distraction from the stress your home-life had sprung at you. God, how you missed your old friend group, you were happy for them, but you really missed hanging out with them; they were fun, sweet, supportive, and were fully aware of how obnoxious your ex-boyfriend was. 

You had moved away from the dance floor when you saw him, hiding your face near the bar. He saw your group and was slowly advancing towards them, so as to not raise any alarms. You reached the bar and ordered another drink, if you were going to talk to that bastard, you were going to do it drunk. You downed the first drink faster than you expected and were ordering the second when you felt someones’ hand on your shoulder as they sat next to you on the bar. 

Welp, this was happening. 

You turned, adorning the most annoyed expression that you could, only to see your much loved (by you) colleague. His smile dropped when he saw your expression, confusion washing over his face. 

“Uh, hey is this a bad time?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Oh my God Lance, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else.” You apologized, expression dropping immediately as your face turned bright red.  

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, just some old problems that won’t fucking leave me alone.” You mumbled into your glass as you brought it to your face.

Lance laughed, and there began another problem which you’d been desperately trying to avoid. He looked so ridiculously adorable when he smiled, and even more so when he laughed. The way his usually intense eyes would soften and crinkle on the sides, and how cute he sounded when he laughed. God, having a crush on Lance was terrifying, not just because of the power dynamic, but also because you could never be sure if he actually reciprocated anything. You had caught him staring a few times before, but sometimes you’d also seen him completely zone out and stare at things, and so, for the sake of your own sanity, you brushed it off as that. 

“What type of problems are we talking about here?” He laughed, politely gesturing for the bartender to bring two of what you were having. 

“Oh y’know, I don’t wanna bore you.” You replied, almost embarrassed to be talking to him about this. 

He seemed to not have heard you, so he leaned in, allowing you to get a pretty good smell of his cologne. Sure, you’d been in accidental close proximity before, but this was so much more different. You both were out of the green Aston-Martin apparel you were accustomed to seeing each other in, and you were certain that he lingered a moment too long after you had repeated what you said. 

“Oh, you’re not boring me at all, I’d love to know more about you, we barely get to talk at work.” He replied, bringing his stool closer to yours, “Plus, I’d love to see what's got you drinking like this.” 

He had to have been drunk, or at least a little tipsy. You two had joked around and had your laughs before, but this just felt so different, he suddenly seemed so much more comfortable and confident. Maybe the lack of cameras and the general stress of the job was doing its magic or maybe it was your low-cut top that had him acting differently. Either way, you weren’t complaining. You liked it when Lance would talk to you, even more so when it would be a one-on-one conversation between you two. It always felt natural almost, like you two were great friends in the past or something. 

“Oh Lance, y’know how it is,” You tried stalling, there was no way you were going to dish about your ex with him, nope it was far too embarrassing, “This and that..”

“This and what? Come on, tell me already.” He laughed, determined to find out why you looked so stressed at a bar and why you had managed to finish your drink this fast again.

“I-” You were interrupted when you spotted your friend pointing at the bar, directing your ex towards you. Panic set in, and you knew you didn’t want to have this conversation, especially in front of someone who was technically your boss. 

Luckily for you, Lance was quick to read your eyes, following their direction and understanding that the man slowly approaching you two was definitely coming there with a purpose; considering the look in your eyes, he also understood that you weren’t particularly excited to be at the receiving end of this supposed purpose. He was slightly tipsy, and you looked really pretty tonight, so he decided to take a barely calculated decision. He knew he had to act fast, considering the man was barely a few feet away, Lance grabbed your face, turning it in his direction. Your eyes widened at the unexpected physical contact, barely managing to process it before he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips felt soft in contrast to how heated the kiss was, his lips passionately moving against yours as one of his hands slipped down to your waist, hooking his finger in the loop of your jeans and pulling you onto his lap. You were surprised, to say the least, but you reciprocated it nonetheless, leaning onto him as you straddled his lap, surprised at the stability of the stool you were seated on. And for a moment, when you two pulled away for air- and you locked your eyes into his- you forgot about the reason for the kiss, melting as his eyes looked in yours before he pulled your face in again, thumb stroking your cheek as he deepened the kiss. 

If it wasn’t for your ex clearing his throat, you two would have probably gone at it for longer, with neither one of you having any objections at all. You turned your face at the man who stood half a foot away from you two, staring angrily at you. You readjusted yourself in his lap, leaning into the facade, you brought a thumb near your lips, cleaning the slight smudge of your lipgloss.

“Hey.” He said, glaring at Lance. 

“Hi.” Lance smiled, both hands now on your waist. 

You could cut the tension with a knife if you wanted to, your ex-boyfriend had no right to be this annoyed, especially not at Lance. His anger was unjustified, and almost annoying, who was he to get mad if you were dating someone? It's not like he knew it was fake. 

“Who’s this babe?” Lance asked, looking at you with the sweetest eyes imaginable, making you melt momentarily. 

“I’m her ex-boyfriend.” He replied, inching closer to the two of you.

“Do you have somethinggg to say?” Lance asked, turning to him.

He opened his mouth for a minute, surprised at how direct the question was. This was definitely not what he was expecting.

“No?” Lance asked, barely allowing him to answer, “Alright, cool.” 

He turned back to kiss you, his hand finding its way back to your cheek that was now currently bright red. Sure, you thought Lance was pretending, but to him, he just saw this as an opportunity to act out on something he’d been feeling for a while now. He’d thought you were cute the moment he saw you, but it wasn't until he talked to you separately did he realize the fact that he liked you. He was way more than excited when he saw you walk into the club with your sexy little top on, and he was more than glad when you came towards the bar. Sure, he’d have wanted to ask you out in better circumstances, but he was definitely not going to complain about his current situation with you on top of him, slightly grinding on him as you two were making out infront of your bloke of an ex. 

You were the one to pull away, coming to your senses when you thought the room was clear to drop the pretense. You were flushed, your breath uneven as you fixed your top that hiked up slightly because of Lances’ exploring hands. 

“Uh,” You weren’t sure what to say, “Lance, I-” 

“I’m sorry for not asking, I just thought it’d be better than talking to that loser.” Lance chuckled. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or if it was how cute you looked when you were flushed, but he really did get an urge to drop all possible formalities. If you could have given that guy a chance, then maybe Lances’ odds weren’t so bad at the moment. Plus, at one point, he was certain neither of you were pretending. 

“No no, I didn’t mind that at all.” You replied, dipping your head down a little to hide the blush that was painting your face.

“Good girl.” Lance whispered, face close to your ear. 

You didn’t think you could blush any harder than you were at that moment. You felt like you were going to explode, everything had happened so fast, and you ran through so many emotions, you were practically feeling lightheaded. Chugging all those drinks didn’t help either, because now you were certain that you had passed out and this was all a dream. Snapping yourself back to reality, you became aware of the fact that you were sitting on Lance Strolls’ lap in a busy bar. You hopped off him, fixing your hair and lip gloss as you stood next to him, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed all that happened. Luckily your friends were too busy dancing and your ex hadn’t seemed to recognise Lance, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Uh, thanks for saving my ass right now,” You mumbled, barely able to look at him, “I really didn’t want to talk to that guy.”

“Hey,” Lance stood up, towering over you as his arms got a hold of your sides, prompting you to look up at him, “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, just uh, a little surprised, that’s all.” 

“Surprised in a good way or a bad way?” He asked, eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“A good way.” You smiled, entranced by his eyes enough to not care about how hard you were blushing.

“Good, because I was hoping I could make this pretense a reality, and uh take you out for dinner tomorrow?” He asked, a small spark of hope in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah that sounds great.” You replied, almost needing to pinch yourself to accept the reality of the situation. 

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 8.” He smirked, “Why don’t you go tell your friends that you’re going home and I’ll drop you home right now.” 

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A/N: Hi! sorry I got carried away, thank you so much for the cute request anon! I loved writing this, hope you liked it! <3

Also, I don't know if this was cliche? like I thought of a plus one to a friends wedding type of fic, but that was also kinda cliche? idk, I hope I didn't disappoint haha

As usual, my ask box is open for requests and criticism, lmk how you like it!!

[catacombbee]

school bus graveyard headcanons because im thinking about them

and because im projecting

just general / random headcanons

Tyler has arachnophobia and entomophobia. creepy crawlies are a HARD NO for Mr. Hernandez. Jackass bullies? No problem. Phantoms trying to eat him? Easy. Tree? Been there, done that. Fucking spiders? get it the FUCK away. mans has a visceral skin crawling reaction to even SEEING something creepy crawlie. it's one of the only things that makes him seriously panic other than yk someone being hurt

Ashlyn has autism yes this is basically canon i think. BUT Ashlyn has a lot of texture sensitivities both with clothes and with food. itchy scratchy clothes are a no. she cannot stand t-shirts keeping their tags they rub and scratch her neck and it makes her want to scream. she cuts the tags out before wearing anything. and food she can't have anything too squishy or tough or else she just loses her appetite entirely.

^^ to build on the clothing tags. everyone else in the group cuts the tags out of their jackets/hoodies and some shirts so if Ashlyn wants to borrow something she can be comfortable

Aiden is down bad for someone wearing his clothes. this can apply to any ship you want, i like him with Ashlyn Tyler or Logan (ive like never seen any talk abt Aidgan? Loden?) but regardless. whoever it is Aiden likes he gets so giddy butterflies giggly seeing someone wear his clothes. this is moreso for Ashlyn or maybe Logan because Ashlyn is so much smaller than Aiden that his sweatshirt would probably hang off her and Aiden would just abdjshfkefbns she's so cute!! this is mostly an Aidlyn hc for me but Logan would also be cute in anyone else's sweatshirt

uh if it's not clear by now im a multishipper ive said it before BUT i like Tyben a lot. they find calm and quiet in each other and bond through expressing themselves through something much healthier: music. i adore Tyben. AND because of Ben in the canvas webtoon: Tyler calls him ladybug. "Hey ladybug" "It's okay ladybug ive got you" "ladybug, you okay?"

kinda related to previous one but like blush hc. Ben does not blush. maybe a little pink on his cheeks. but his EARS. his ears get so RED when he's angry or when he's flustered. his face might be 😐 but you look at his ears and they're red you know he's flustered

ALSO everyone learned ASL for Ben so he didn't have to just use notes n stuff. Aiden was already learning but everyone else picked up on it

Logan likes compact spaces, they male him feel safe and secure. Like the tire! He feels very nice and snuggly in his tire. But also like. under beds. in closets (haha). one time they played hide and seek in Aiden's house and Logan won because he fell asleep curled up in an empty cabinet. Logan loves being little spoon because he just fits snugly in everyone's arms

it's been mentioned Tyler plays guitar, but i hc that he's also a really good artist. because he got into baseball for a scholarship he's kinda dropped both art and music, but in getting to know the others and especially Ben he gets back into playing music which leads to him drawing again. he doodles pictures of his friends and they realize what a good artist he is. that's how he realizes he actually has passion for creativity and decides he wants to be a tattoo artist.

(i was writing a tyden tattoo artist Tyler au on a reblog draft from a post @\the-killies made and like forgot abt it. someone peer pressure me if you think that sounds like snth you wanna read. it was probably over 1k words by the time i forgor)

Taylor likes mechanics (cus. the club) but she also knows some programming. this is solely because I think Taylor would like making little robots just for fun. Aiden would beg her to make him a little robot like that one companion toy robot Cosmo

in canvas sbg Logan brought a bunch of clothes for them to wear in the pictures/videos they took. so. Logan likes cosplay and renn faires. History is one of his favorite subjects (the other being science. english/literature is a very close third. he doesn't dislike math just isn't his favorite) so he has a lot of clothes from different time periods because of the renn faires he's been to.

This is a really unhinged headcanon and isn't something ive ever thought about before but thinking about Logan having outfits and stuff made me think who would be the most likely to be a furry. and no not Logan. it would be Aiden. hes rich enough to splurge on his fursuit. THIS IS A JOKE I DONT HC HIM AS A FURRY THIS IS A "WHOS MOST LIKELY TO" PLEAS

Aiden's favorite subject is history, he likes reading about wars but he also enjoys learning about other cultures and differences from how we live in modern day America. Aiden would probably study anthropology just for the fun of it. he and Logan bond over their love of history. Aiden can't remember what he had for lunch yesterday but he can tell you every little detail he knows about the Civil War start to finish, dates and names and locations and all.

this is a really weird hc but. Ashlyn is an amazing rapper. there was a karaoke night and one song someone did had a rap part coming up and they were like ahaha it's too fast for me and Ashlyn just stood up. took the mic. and fucking blew everyone's minds. and then she sat down like she didnt just rock their world

this last bit is self indulgent. assuming the phantom world things don't last forever, the kids get therapy eventually :D

^^ building on that, Ben specifically, he lives in my head rent free. i love him sm. Ben gets therapy for not just the phantom world things but everything beforehand. slowly and surely, starting with Aiden and Lily and maybe whichever person he's shipped with, he starts talking again. Some days are better than others, sometimes he gets quiet again, other times he goes for days talking as much as anyone (except aiden he yaps.) everyone almost cries when Ben is doing something and begins singing to himself because they realize he's better

im gonna do like gender & sexuality headcanons too,,, maybe later. might do silly ship hcs too cus i ship so many pairings here

[satanstruemistress]

I don't go here (aew) but I am so intrigued as to what's going on bc I've been seeing posts about it all day where I almost never have before 👀 👀 👀

That’s probably because of me lol. I’d apologize but honestly it’s so good.

Honestly, AEW is my favorite wrestling promotion right now, but people don’t seem to want to give it a chance, because they’re ride-or-die for WWE. And WWE is good! But it’s geared more toward kids, where AEW is geared more toward adults. Idk how much you know about wrestling in general, so I’ll explain the whole thing as thoroughly as possible :)

My favorite storylines right now are: Deranged Blond Cowboy and Afro-goth Vampire wannabe (Hangman Adam Page and Swerve Strickland, respectively) hate each other but are inexplicably unable to free themselves from each other. There’s been stabbings, breaking and entering, blood drinking, body stapling, hanging the cowboy with a chain, and the cowboy stabbing a needle into Swerve’s face.

They’re the fandom’s OTP somehow. (They deserve it). We want them to be tag team champions. They’re wrestling soulmates. (They work together super well, no matter if they’re feuding or a team.) There’s a whole playlist I’ve watched a few times on YouTube, that goes through the whole storyline so far. It’s fantastic.

And: “Blackpool Combat Club gets Poly Divorced, violently.”

There’s a lot of history there, but what it boils down to now is: Bryan Danielson, one of the best wrestlers in the world, ever, needs to retire. He’s got a neck issue that needs to be addressed sooner rather than later, but the owner of AEW wanted him to have one last hurrah, so he basically dragged him kicking and screaming into the storyline where he won the World Title from Swerve (my beloved Afro goth vampire). Danielson said he’s not going to just give up the title, he’s gonna fight until he physically couldn’t anymore, and THEN he’d retire from full-time action.

Danielson has a group he’s in, Blackpool Combat Club (BCC for short) with dudes he’s been friends with for a long time, that was started by their mentor, William Regal who is no longer with AEW. (His irl son is in WWE’s “developmental territory - the proving grounds before they actually go in front of approximately half a zillion people).

Danielson’s BCC buddy Jon Moxley came back from some time off and was like “Hey this isn’t your company anymore” and confused the shit out of fans and coworkers alike.

But anyway, the night Danielson successfully defended the AEW World Title for the first time, his BCC team mates Moxley, Claudio (they’re hard to tell apart at first, both tall bald white dudes) and their protégée Wheeler Yuta, along with “new recruits” The Bastard Pac, and scary lady Marina Shafir. They were celebrating. Smiles, kisses, and hugs all around. Pac even hugged Wheeler.

Which is when we knew something was going down. Pac is, in fact, a Bastard. He’s not a lovey/huggy man. He was holding Wheeler back while Claudio uppercutted Danielson which shook fans EVERYONE. And then Mox grabbed a plastic bag and tried to suffocate Danielson while Wheeler sobbed and cried out for Bryan whilst being held back by Pac and ineffectively comforted by Claudio.

Danielson was escorted out on a stretcher that night.

Blah blah blah, a week or so passes, and we see Wheeler…not doing well. At all. He’s dead-eyed, almost catatonic, but he’s using Danielson’s finisher to win matches.

BCC tries to get through to him, but he’s not interested. He’s sided with Bryan.

OR SO WE THOUGHT.

Last night, Mox won the title but wasn’t actually all that interested in the Big Prize. He shoved it into a bag. He and the rest of the BCC started beating the shit out of Danielson. But here comes Wheeler Yuta and another man named Darby Allin, to the rescue.

Darby and Wheeler chase them off, but Darby’s back is turned, and when he turns to check on Bryan, who was sitting in the corner behind Yuta, Yuta hit Darby with one of Bryan’s finishing moves called the Busaiku Knee.

I’m a little fuzzy on the direct actions, because I was busy staring open-mouthed at the screen, processing, but Darby ended up taped to the ring ropes, and Wheeler suffocated Danielson this time.

As he’s suffocating his mentor, his childhood hero, Wheeler is BEGGING him to stop fighting it. Just let go. Then a bunch of faces (good guys) run from the back, and finally help get them off him. Namely three dudes named Orange Cassidy, Hook, and Daniel Garcia.

Danielson was taken out on a stretcher. AGAIN.

Here’s fan theory: Mox, Claudio, Wheeler, and the rest of them still love Bryan Danielson. They’re doing this to protect him from himself so he doesn’t end up seriously hurting himself or worse. That’s how they got Wheeler to do what he did. None of them are happy about it, they’re not enjoying it. They just think it’s their only option.

But this is a story, it’s not real, so obviously we’re thinking that this is all Bryan’s doing. He’s KNOWN to be a devil who thrives on his fan’s horror. (Which is a positive thing in this business). We think that this, not the title, was his last big hurrah. THIS is how he wants to go out, setting his irl besties up for a MASSIVE heel (bad guy) run, while simultaneously setting up the guys that came running out to help him, to be the next big faces of the company.

…Anyway, yeah. AEW is fantastic. I highly recommend it. There’s also a lot of silly and fun storylines that won’t leave you traumatized lol.

ALSO TEN YEARS A MUTUAL HOLY SHIT.

[clan-of-reaching-stars]

@jadedragons @clan-lunstrae-fr

Okay, the Cliff notes version of my Clan’s Lore. And by Cliff Notes I mean this took an hour to write but hey, it’s all written now.

Vale and Orithya are mentioned in Generation Eleven.

Generation One

Iskal and Shalestone found the Clan, picking up Pan, Viridiana and Lethe. The three are fighters, but Lethe retires to be the Clan Hatchling Keeper after Shalestone and Iskal’s kids are born. Iskal and Shalestone share leadership duties, with Pan and Viridiana taking over defense.

Generation Two

Lethe about dies of happiness due to having to look after eight kids. Three of Iskal and Shalestone’s daughters stay (Cerise, Merean, and Likan) one is exchanged with a Nature Clan to foster relationships, who send their son Andric. A baby Imperial, Tazenia is found, and then a baby nocturne, Talin. The Clan takes in a sickly Coatl, Jecto. A rather absent minded Tundra child is taken in, his name is Tayio.

Later, when they’re all the equivilant of teenagers, two others join, Lace and Sykion.

Jecto will always be sickly but the Clan adores him, and does their best to help him. Merean became head huntress, with her sisters help. Andric becomes a scout, and patrols borders and checks out new territories. Tayio likes digging so he takes over expanding the lair, Tazenia is big and good at settling disagreements so she handles the BeastClan familiars and allies. Talin asists her for some time. Lace is the Clan Jester, and Sykion hunts bugs for the Clan.

Some adults join the Clan as well.

They pick up an adult fae, Inez. She takes care of keeping track of the Clan’s hoard.

From the same Nature Clan as Andric comes the Guardian Nora. Her mate Sulor also joins the Clan, joining the guard as trainers.

Most of these two generations will form the Council.

Generation Three

At this point the Clan is Twenty dragons so they start breeding. 

Lace, Sykion, and Likan become a polyamorous relationship. Likan and Sykion are the biolgical parents of Deryn and Nela. Nela went to serve the Arcanist, while Deryn is still finding her place in the Clan.

Andric and Merean become a thing and have Orisa and Tyrath. Tyrath becomes a scout like his father, Orisa takes after her grandmother’s diplomatic nature and becomes a merchant/ambassador for the Trading Post.

Pan is aromantic but wants kids, and Viridiana does as well so they have a son Dmitri. He joins Tayio in expanding the Clan’s lair, and his parents just want to see him happy.

Nora and Sulor have three children. Only two remain with the Clan, Gale and Imerial. They and Nora’s half-sister Azzura form a battalion in Pan’s army/guard.

Two teens join the Clan, Tigress and Ariella. They are lesbians and join the lair expansion crew.

A mirror named Duskwind joins the Clan as well. He does finances for Orisa.

Yuniver, the Clan messenger also joins.

This Generation is one of the closest knit, second only to Generation Seven.

Generation Four

Generation four is a mess.

Jecto adopts a daughter, Nebula. She becomes mages and study arcane magic.

Oz, a librarian joins the Clan.

Frostaithan, a very sick guardian is found by the Clan and nursed back to health. He becomes an assistant diplomat to Shalestone.

Sykion and Lace have kids, Birch and Felar. Those two often leaving the Clan for long periods of time. 

An extremely foul tempered guardian named Shadowclaw joins the Clan and trains as a fighter.

Nora and Sulor have a nest around this time, but none of the clutch stays with the Clan. This is common for them and this one is only noted because Colrath is one of the dragons. He joins Clan Aegis, a Clan Shalestone hopes to form an alliance with.

Generation Five

Beacon, the grandson of Iskal and Shalestone joins the Clan, Deryn, missing her three siblings and looking a lot like her cousin, adopts him as her little brother. Beacon will later be named heir to Iskal and Shalestone.

Pan and Viridiana have a second child, Ariadne. She joins the Lair expansion group like her brother, becoming the group’s main architect. The Lair expansion look much nicer now.

Orisa and Duskwind have two kids, Tobai and Iblis. Tobai becomes the Clan alchemist. Iblis struggles to find her place for awhile.

Generation Six

After a brief stasis period where the Clan expanded its territory and settled, a few new dragons join the Clan.

Arawn is born, a nocturne with such a poor sense of direction he got lost and turned into a forest spirit.

Vesper is a Shadow Egg and hailed as a blessing from the Shadowbringer. When on his birthday the next year he’s turned into a Nocturne he has a few choice opinions on his deity but accepts his place

Phyllis joins as a healer, focusing mostly on herbal remedies.

Kellan also joins, the first male Imperial of the Clan and the first Lair guard. The second is Rowan, a fae who joins a few days later. The two become inseparable.

Aegean is next to join, the Clan’s main provider of seafood, the coatls rejoice.

Generation Seven

This generation was incredibly close knit and is practically a lair on it’s own.

Gaila is born, the first of the new colors. She trains under Shadowclaw, the two of them fight constantly but seem to be incredibly close as well.

Molan is one of the biggest in the Clan, earning the nickname Thunderhead. He’s the Clan inventor and also a pacifist. He’s blessed by the Stormcaller.

His charge is Nightstar, a nocturne that usually hangs off his horns and assists him.

Valoran joins the Clan. The Grandson of Treesnek he serves as fortune teller and most hated dragon in the lair. He’s actually not a bad guy if you get to know him. And ignore that one kidnapping thing no one knows about. He and Gaila are sworn enemies. That is to say Gaila swears every time she sees him and he loves annoying her.

Myra the bard joins, full of songs and a love of performing.

Faolan is next, a diplomat who briefly enters a dating sim before he and Gaila become a thing.

Iva, a dragon known for her luck joins the Clan as well.

Bracken, the poison master, joins as well. He is the half brother of Phyllis and the two of them bond and quickly begin working together on a garden for their various needs.

Generation Eight

Treesnek and gays

Valoran “finds” a strange spiral named Elita and raises her. Remember that kidnapping thing no one knows about? She’s also his cousin. Elita masters shadow magic like her guardian (lowercase g).

Sylva joins the Clan, and is visited by Treesnek as a child freaking everyone out.

Abiliene, a gardener blessed by the Gladekeeper joins the Clan.

Mask joins the Clan, and becomes the butler, ensure the lair doesn’t fall apart. (Thank the Arcanist we have someone on that.)

Three friends join the Clan, Eclipse, Dawn and Victor.

Victor is a necromancer. Well he prefers scientist. He and Tobai dance around each other for a while before Tobai asks him out. Their science husbands now.

Dawn is a scribe and quickly become entranced by Myra’s story. And Myra herself. They’re wives.

Eclipse joins Iblis in the library and together they discover a new technique for enhancing weapons and items. This spell goes haywire and enhances them. They now have the ability to enhance objects using the runs on their bodies. Eclipse also ends up in a time paradox that messes with his mind and thus why he always has a pocket watch on him.

Zenith joins the Clan at this time, half starved. The Clan nurses him back to health and he joins the Lair guards.

Dominick and Belemus, the twin blacksmiths, join the Clan.

Not part of the Clan but!

Outside of the Clan a highwayman is cursed into a horrifying form and branded with runes detailing his crimes. This backfires horribly as Lune loves his new form.

Generation Nine

At this point Colrath re-enters the story. Barely recognizable, he tells the story of how Clan Aegis fell to a Plague Clan. The Clan is horrified by this, and by Colrath’s single minded determination for revenge. Shadowclaw is put on his guard duty to make sure he doesn’t do something violent or rash.

 Colrath’s charge hatches, to his utter horror it is a plague dragon. He names her Panacea (Cea for short). Shortly after, Shadowclaw finds a water egg, which hatches into a guardian Larimar. The two are raised as siblings and are incredibly close. Also yes their two dads are a thing now.

Hollow is brought into the Clan to be spymaster, trained by Imeriel and Valoran.

Volo, an old wind dragon blessed by Windsinger joins the Clan.

Generation Ten

The Clan moves into a new home and discovers it haunted by a dragon named Asteria.

Nita hatches and is adopted as Victor and Tobai’s daughter.

Inverna, a fire mage joins the Clan.

Shadowclaw and Colrath get a third kid, Alina.

During the fight for Starwind bay, a tundra hatches and joins the Clan. Starwind took her name from the bay and grows up to run a pirate crew. This is where Lumen, Absi, Ekhi, Noctis, Lux, Poe, Hadrian, Solstice and Caerwyn end up.

Generation Eleven

The current generation finally.

Vale joins the Clan and the Lair guard. He becomes known for his distant nature and cold behavior.

A short time later, his sister Orithyia joins the Clan as well, fleeing their mother. The siblings do not get along well, Orithyia thinks Vale is cruel and cold, Vale thinks Orithyia is cowardly and weak. Orithyia is determined to save Frostaithan from Treesnek, who seems to have possessed him.

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[terrifyingly-bi]

Price to Pay (Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader)

Summary: Steve Harrington x Hargrove!Reader for @manyfandomsfanvergent who wanted some angst with a happy ending., where Billy and the reader get along because of the abuse.

Warnings/tags: mentions of abuse, cursing, victimizing, general angst, feel free to tell me if I need to tag anything else I'm not good with these

Wordcount: ~2,5k

A/N: Got the request. Got carried away. But hey! It's all good! Thank you for the request :)

『••✎••』

“Hargrove,” Steve muttered, putting his hands on his hips as he watched as you and your brother walked towards him. 

Billy looked at him with disinterest, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Harrington,” he mumbled and nudged your arm with his. “You didn’t mention that he was going to be here. I don’t want to spend any more time looking at his than I have to,” he complained.

“Well, I do,” you said and turned to Steve with a smile. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Someone,” you elbowed Billy in the side, “had totally forgotten that they needed to get gas, and had to walk half a mile to get some.” You grinned at the way your brother’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. Had it been anyone else making fun of him, they would have been smacked for sure.

“Whatever,” Billy grunted. He gave you a stern look, lips pressed into a tight line and brows knitted together in a frown. “I’ll pick you up by eight, you’d better be here by then.” Then he turned and scowled over at Steve before he swung around and began walking away.

Shaking his head, Steve’s posture became more relaxed the further away your brother got. “Is he ever going to be normal about us hanging out?” he asked. His gaze wandered from Billy’s retreating frame to you, and instantly a smile spread across his face. “Hey, by the way.”

“Hey, you,” You cooed and gave a dramatic shrug. “What can I say? He’s family. Sometimes that’s all you’ve got.”

“You’ve got us,” Steve said, nodding into the arcade where the rest of your friend group was undoubtedly waiting. “Got me,” he added quietly.

A small wave of flutters echoed in the pit of your stomach. “I know,” you said softly before she cleared your throat and swiftly linked your arm with his. “So. Since I absolutely destroyed you at air hockey last time, I’d say you owe me some tokens and a pizza.”

Steve chuckled and ran his fingers through his hair. You loved it when he did that “Make it a few tokens and half a pizza, and I’ll consider it.”

“I thought you were supposed to be some sort of gentleman,” you huffed. “Fine. Get me on a few games and we’ll split a pizza.”

“Yes, my liege,” Steve said, tucking your arm in safely under his and leading you into the arcade. 

-

Steve watched fondly as you and Dustin engaged in what could only be called a battle of the giants, bumping hips in front of the giant arcade machine, yanking violently at the joysticks and mashing buttons. Lucas and Will stood on each side of them, cheering them on.

“Get ‘em!” Lucas urged Dustin, wildly pointing at the bar at the top of the screen that flashed red and yellow. “Special! Special!”

Will hopped nearer. “Watch out for the lows!” He warned you.

For once, Dustin had the upper hand, but not by much. You grinned over your shoulder at Steve as you swung your hips and bumped into Dustin with just enough force to knock him off balance.

“Hey, cheater!” Dustin shouted when he lost control of his character and yours descended upon it with two flaming blades.

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world, kid,” you said, finishing his character off with a violent spinning kick. “What was that? Five wins for me?”

Dustin shook his head, angrily adjusting his hat and glaring up at you. “I had that one in the bag,” he said. “Just like the other four times. You just got lucky,” he argued. “Steve, you saw that, right? How unfair was that just now?”

Steve shrugged innocently from where he stood leaning against a broken vending machine. “I didn’t see anything but two dorks fighting over a mediocre game,” he said. “Did any of you losers even get a combo over a three?”

“As if you could do it better,” you protested. “You don’t even know how to do the special move.”

“Right!” Dustin was quick to hop on your side. While he adored Steve, he took every opportunity he could to agree with you. Especially if whatever you said was aimed towards Steve. “You haven’t done anything but eat pizza and talk shit.”

“I can back shit up when I have to,” Steve argued. He wore a wide smile that made your chest feel as if it was full of fluffy stuffing. He looked at you and met your gaze head-on, his kind brown eyes gleaming with happiness. “Try me, if you don’t believe me,” he said and tilted his chin up in a cocky kind of defiance.

Dustin immediately took him up on that. “Show me what you’ve got, King Steve,” he said.

You chuckled as you stepped aside to let Steve take your place. “Right. Show us what you’re made of, Harrington,” you said and pressed a handful of tokens into his hand, making sure to let your fingers linger on his. “Winners earn prices, and all that.”

Steve’s gaze snapped from the game over to you for a short moment. He glanced briefly at your lips before he smiled. “Good thing I’m the reigning champion then,” he said before he turned back to Dustin and gave Will a high five. “Best of three?”

You took Steve’s place by the vending machine, managing to find a part of it that wasn’t sticky or completely covered in gum, and watched the boys whoop and holler as the characters on the screen performed unspeakable acts of violence to one another. 

The weekly visits to the arcade had been Lucas’ idea, and it had become a routine that you all followed religiously. Every Saturday at four, you met at The Palace for a few hours of games, junk food and competition. The configuration of friends varied, but you and Steve seemed to be the two constants, which made you in charge of said afternoons.

In reality, Steve was the one who did most of the planning and you just got Billy to give you a ride there once it was time for everyone to meet. 

“Stop!” Dustin wailed, slumping onto the arcade machine in defeat when his character keeled over. “What’s up with today?”

“Easy,” Steve said. “The ‘B’ button on your side is broken,” he said, pointing to the big red button by the joystick. “Do you even pay attention to anything, Henderson?” He reached out and teasingly bopped his friend on the head. “Speaking of paying attention,” he glanced over to you, “what do you make of that sweet victory?”

You smiled at him. “A bit unfair, but I’ll take it,” you said. 

Steve winked at you before he turned back to the boys. “Who’s next?”

-

It was ten to eight when you stepped out of the arcade followed by Dustin and Will. Lucas and Steve were still inside, trying to break a tie before it was time to head home. “I hope Max can come with us next week,” Will said. “She’d put you all to shame.”

“You’re probably right,” you admitted. “Is Steve driving you home?”

Dustin shook his head. “Will’s mom is picking us up. We’re having a sleepover. You should come,” he quickly suggested. “It’ll be fun.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “As fun as that would be, I don’t think it’d be such a great idea. My dad’s coming home tomorrow morning, and I promised to help him out with something.” Your smile persisted through the guilt that pooled in your chest. You’d much rather hang out with your friends than go back home.

Will offered you a gentle smile. “Maybe next time?” He suggested. “You could bring that board game you talked about.”

“If I can find all the pieces, sure,” you said. “That sounds great.”

The three of you turned around when Steve and Lucas walked out through the arcade doors and Lucas’ wide grin made it obvious who’d broken the tie. Moments later, Joyce pulled up in her car and the three younger boys said their goodbyes and hopped in. 

Both you and Steve waved at the car as it left before turning to each other. “Shame we didn’t get to play a game together,” you said. “I wouldn’t say no to free pizza next week as well.” 

“Gloat all you like. That air hockey game is only going to last you so long,” Steve said with a grin. Slowly, his grin softened into a smile and the playful look in his eyes turned affectionate. “You doing anything tonight? Wanna grab a shake or something?” He jutted a thumb towards the nearby diner.

You sighed. “I’d love to… but I have to get home,” you said. “Dad’s coming home tomorrow.”

Steve’s smile fell. “Oh,” he mumbled and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “That was tomorrow? I thought he was going to be away until next week.”

“No, he’s… He should be home tomorrow morning. Billy and I…” You trailed off and subconsciously started rubbing your hands over your wrists - as if you were mentally preparing them and yourself for what was to come. “It’s just… You know how it is…”

Steve stepped closer to you, trying to catch your drifting gaze. “No, I don’t,” he said. “You don’t have to put up with that. With them.” He put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Steve…”

“I mean it. You really don’t have to stay there. We could find you an apartment, a room, anything.” Steve’s hand slid from where it rested on your shoulder, trailing down your arm and moving to take one of your hands. 

“Steve-”

“There’s space at my place if nothing else,” he continued. “I’m serious. You could always-”

“Steve!” You interrupted him, shaking his hand away from yours. “I’m not leaving Billy.”

For a moment Steve stared at you, dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious. Why are you defending that asshole?”

You glared up at Steve. “He’s my brother, and he’s not as bad as you think,” you argued. Even knowing about the stupid rivalry Steve and Billy had going on, you couldn’t sit back and not defend your brother. The brother that worried about you and protected you both in and out of the home.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, because he’s such an angel. A real Prince Charming,” he said, sarcasm lacing every word.

“Shut up!” You snapped - anger quickly taking over - as you pointed an accusing finger at him. You hated when your nerves got the better of you. Runs in the family, your father used to say, which made you hate it even more. “It’s not like you’d understand anyway. You’re King Steve. The guy who has everything, who can get anything and anyone he wants.”

“I don’t understand? Seems like you don’t know shit either,” Steve said. Something akin to misery gleamed in his eyes. “You’ve got that stupid brother of yours hovering around you like a damn guard dog, and when he’s not around you’ve got your loser of a dad!”

The two of you were shouting, and somewhere in the distance, you heard the revving of an engine. You stared up at Steve as his anger seemed to dissipate as soon as it had appeared. His shoulders slumped with defeat and his face fell into a frown.

“But at least you have someone,” he said, this time speaking so low that you barely heard him.

“W-What?” You stuttered, too confused to be angry.

But just as you were about to ask him when he meant, a car screeched to a halt on the road beside you and the door on the driver’s side flew open. “What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” Billy asked. “You’ve got a problem, huh?” He walked up and shoved Steve back. “You think you can just get whatever the fuck you want by crying, huh?”

“Fuck off, Hargrove,” Steve hissed. “This isn’t any of your business.”

“It is when my family is involved,” he said and nodded over at you. “Who the fuck you think you are?”

“Billy,” you protested softly. “It’s okay. It was just an argument…”

Billy turned around and glared at you, looking you up and down to make sure that you were alright. “I could hear the shouting from down the street,” he said. “It’s clearly not okay.” He turned back to Steve and without thinking, balled his hands into fists.

You grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back. “Stop,” you said. “You’re better than that. We’re better than that.” You met his fiery gaze straight on and refused to look away even when some of his anger was directed toward you. “We are not him.”

With a huff, Billy pulled himself free from your grasp. Then he turned back to Steve. “You got lucky this time, Harrington,” he muttered and spat onto the ground between them. “Next time you won’t be.” He turned on his heels and made to get back into his car. “Come on,” he said.

You gulped and looked over at Steve. “I’m sorry,” you said. “I really am.”

Steve’s chest rose and fell slowly as he regarded your brother and then you. “If anything happens to you… both of you,” he said. “I’ll know.”

There was no way of knowing why those words hit you as they did. It wasn’t a secret what you and Billy endured, but no one had ever acknowledged it so clearly before. This was a statement. If anything happens to you, I will know. 

Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes and you stubbornly rubbed them away. “Thank you,” you said. 

Steve’s glare disappeared and he stepped closer once again and ran his thumb over your cheek. His touch was warm and soft. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll do something when you’re free. Okay?”

You nodded. “Sure, that sounds great.” You could barely hold back your sobs.

He smiled at you. “Actually. You can call me whenever. Doesn’t matter when. I’ll be there if you need me.”

You nodded again. “I really appreciate that.”

Behind you, Billy leaned on the horn to make you hurry up. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Harrington,” he shouted out the open window. “Come on. It’s getting late.”

Sucking in a breath of air. You gave Steve a quick but tight hug. “I’ll call you as soon as I can tomorrow,” you promised, murmuring the vow into his chest. 

Steve ran his hand up and down your back. “Good.” He leaned his head on yours for a moment before he let you step away. “Now hurry up, before your brother catches on fire or something.” He smiled at you again and gestured for you to get in the car.

You turned and pulled the car door open, but just as you were about to get in you remembered something. “Steve, wait,” you said, hurrying back to his side and taking his hand on yours. “This is for you,” you said and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Winners get prices, right?” 

“R-Right,” he stuttered as he watched you get into the car. He waved awkwardly at you when Billy sped off into the night.

You couldn’t stop smiling at the tingling feeling on your lips, even as Billy ranted about how much Steve was going to have to pay for that.

[altocat]

My last ask got a bit sad and creepy so let's, hopefully, turn this around. Most of Crisis Core doesn't happen, our three boys are still alive and well, no Nibelheim, and our favorite puppy just got promoted to First Class! How do you think Zack and the others would manage this (not so) little change in dynamics?

Rofl Zack is looking like the Ringo of this group.

-Zack is the new group baby. Sorry Gen.

-Angeal and Zack will always be closest due to Angeal's previous role as mentor. And that doesn't really ever change. Angeal continues to lecture and guide Zack every step of the way, and is very encouraging towards him. He's the one who works diligently to integrate Zack into the group and is the first to defend him. They typically tag-team in battle and Zack is still trying to learn all of Angeal's best moves. Angeal relies on the others to keep Zack in line whenever he isn't around, but also continues to push Zack to stand on his own as his own hero. They're always bro-ing out.

-Sephiroth does not take well to changes and, initially, feels very hostile towards any new intruders that slide into his relationship with the others. Unlike CC, they don't have the conflict to really bring them together. That said, Sephiroth eventually settles over time, impressed at Zack's skill, as well as how Zack treats him with honesty and openness. They begin to mutually admire each other and Sephiroth eventually grows very protective of him. They're pretty close overall, with Sephiroth often letting Zack get away with things that he wouldn't let others get away with. And he's generally just very kind and respectful to Zack overall. Zack is one of the few people who can actually get Sephiroth to laugh.

-Genesis and Zack never really become friends. There's just too much hostility and rivalry going on between them. That said, Genesis does come to heavily respect and rely on Zack's skill, and partially finds a level of satisfaction in competing with him. After all, Zack's a lot easier to beat than Sephiroth. While they're often trading barbs at each other, they sometimes completely forget their shared animosity whenever they're distracted. Being the two most easily excitable members of the group, there are instances when both are super hyped and it genuinely looks like they're ready to hug each other and jump around. But they still don't really like each other much lolol

-Gen and Seph are initially in the I Hate Zack Club (total members: 2) when Zack is first fully brought into the group. They basically sit there and sulk and grumble to each other about the twerp. This lasts all of two weeks before Seph ditches because hey, Zack's actually pretty cool. Genesis begrudgingly joins the others again after a bit.

-Zack trains one on one with all three and actually picks up a lot of their moves. His fighting style integrates a lot of their signature attacks.

-Zack and Gen find common ground on being the only two in the group who want to go have fun. So they will work together to drag Angeal and Sephiroth out and about.

-At some point, Zack decides to play matchmaker with Genesis and Sephiroth, thinking it would just be really funny. WHOOPS he brings them together for real 😂

-Zack mostly hangs with Sephiroth when Angeal isn't around. They've had surprisingly interpersonal conversations with each other. Sephiroth gradually finds Zack very easy to talk to. And there are things about Sephiroth's past that Zack knows that the others don't. And he doesn't like what he hears. He silently promises himself that he'll go to Angeal straight away if Sephiroth ever says anything that truly upsets or scares him.

-Yay now Angeal has three gremlins to wrangle all at the same time. The man will never get any sleep ever again.

[despressolattes]

TEMPERATURE MODERATOR » shoto todoroki

unrequested, but just a little scenario that’s been running through my mind

CHARACTERS: Shoto Todoroki x reader

SUMMARY: in which your ‘good pal ‘todoroki once let you hold onto his left side to warm up after he accidentally freezes you during the USJ attack, and you then consistently proceed to use him as a human temperature moderator.

WARNINGS: fluff

IMAGINE REQUESTS IS OPEN, JUST SLOW TO GET TO THEM—send all to my INBOX

MHA MASTERLIST

"Um... hey... Todo... roki...”

You spoke between shivers, standing behind him.

You watched as his shoulders rose in surprise after he finished unfreezing the villains, asking them what their plans for All Might were. Everything had happened so fast from the villains breeching the USJ, to one of them warping the students to different locations, to Todoroki completely freezing the area. You knew he was impressive, but his power was on a whole different level.

“L/N?” his heterochromatic eyes widened when he saw you there, smiling sheepishly as your limbs felt cold. “Why didn’t you get my attention sooner?”

“Oh, y’know, you seemed busy getting information out of those villains,” you replied awkwardly. If you were able to move your arms, you would’ve been scratching your head at this point.

He huffed at your response, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he walked over, placing a hand over the ice entrapping your body. Steam began to flow into the air as he melted the ice away from you.

You fell forward a bit after he was done, and he reached out to help steady you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You stood up straight, moving your arms out of his grasp as you nodded vigorously. Your palms went to your bare arms, trying to warm yourself back up.

A guilty look flashed on his face, and he held out his left arm.

“Here, hold onto me,” he said, looking away from you as a slight tint formed on his face, but his poker face remained.

“Pardon?”

“I can keep you warm with my left side,” he mumbled. “Just grab on until you feel better.”

Awkwardly, you let yourself wrap your arms around his torso, and his left arm snaked around your shoulders. You felt yourself slowly warming back up, but was it from embarrassment or from his quirk?

“Let’s go find the teachers and our classmates,” he said.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

To say your friends had a lot to ask about Todoroki’s protective arm around you during the USJ attack was an understatement. He had ran into battle to help All Might, practically carrying you as his arm around your shoulder moved to your waist. His grip had tightened as he ran onto the scene, sure to bring you with him without you toppling over.

Afterwards, the girls all wanted to know what was going on. Toru had told them all about how Todoroki had accidentally frozen you alongside the villains, gushing about how afterwards he was a total prince charming offering to hold you until you were warm. You and Todoroki looked at each other in surprise when she had revealed she had been there. Neither of you had any clue, which meant he could’ve also accidentally froze her.

But as for your friends questions? You didn’t have much to say. It wasn’t like it was anything other than a polite gesture and an apology for freezing you.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

You hadn’t talked to Todoroki much outside of a group setting since the attack on the USJ. 

You forget which of the girls had planned it, or how you got dragged outside of your house, but there you were. You were walking in a small crowd of class 1A students into an ice-skating rink, one of them suggesting to hang out after class got out.

Looking around, you saw Todoroki standing a bit further back from the group, observing the event around them. You wondered how he wasn’t cold, clad in a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans. Then, you remembered: he could probably regulate his body temperature using his left side.

Your classmates tugged on your arm and dragged you to put on ice skates and then onto the rink. You giggled as Ochako and Mina pulled you along with them, and laughed out when you’d fall backwards and land on your butt.

Eventually, you had broken off from the girls, and you saw Todoroki skating around. Of course the boy with an ice quirk was great at ice skating.

To the best of your ability, you skated over to him. The idea of being warm sounded nice, so you found yourself seeing only one logical solution to your problem.

“Todoroki!” you said enthusiastically, going to grab onto his left arm.

He looked startled as you latched yourself to his side.

“Um... what are you doing?” he asked as you wrapped your arms around his left one, using him for warmth and balance.

“It’s cold in here, and your left side is warm,” you responded with an innocent smile.

Todoroki’s cheeks heated up from the close proximity you had to him.

“Should’ve worn a bigger jacket then,” he said.

“You let me get warmed up by you before!”

“I was also the reason you were cold before.”

“Well, why should I be cold when there’s a perfectly hot boy standing right here,” you jokingly muttered.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you had just said, and how it could sound by anyone other than the two of you. He seemed to realize it, too, a hint blush forming on his face.

“T-that’s not what I meant,” you stuttered out, looking down in embarrassment and reflexively tightened your grip on Todoroki’s arm.

He looked away from you, but also didn’t shrug you off. He moved out of the way as Bakugo came racing past, detaching him arm from you to dodge a possible clash. You swear all you saw was a light blond flash as you fell backwards onto your but, grated ice flying into your face.

“Watch it, damn extras!” Bakugo yelled over his shoulders.

Todoroki’s looked down at your with wide eyes, a slight upturn of his lips.

“Here,” he offered you a hand, and you took it. After a moment of silent, he added, “I suppose you can hold onto me since you don’t look like you know how to skate.”

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

Todoroki turned into Shoto, and Shoto turned into Sho at the same rate that UA high school turned into UA boarding school, your classmates became your roomates—erm, building mates?—and your paths to being heroes took an abrupt jump off of its steady progression straight into the deep end.

How did you guys even find time to go to the beach? you wondered, sitting underneath an umbrella on a hot day, hearing the sounds of people talking and waves crashing.

“Sho!”

You got up from your spot to run up towards the boadwalk strip of shops, where Todoroki was walking. He was in a pair of jeans, a white shirt, and a blue button up—one of his nicest casual outfits in your opinion.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted, and you fell into pace next to him.

You kept on glancing over at him every few seconds, but not saying anything.

The boy eyed you, his grey eye turning to the side of his head to look at you.

“I’m not a human air conditioner, Y/N,” he muttered as he stuck his right hand out for you.

“Hm?” you asked innocently.

“You’re hot, right? That’s why you’re standing so cold to my right side?” he questioned, but it was more of a statement. “Just grab on already.”

You smiled sweetly as wrapped your arms around him, a content smile on your face while he looked away with a tint on his cheeks.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

Of course, there was no way you could just so casually hold onto the Shoto Todoroki without your classmates wondering what was going on between the two of you. 

If you were honest, it had all just been a spur of the moment decision. After the USJ incident, deciding to go to him for warmth was nothing but an impulsive decision. You had half expected him to think you were weird and shrug you off, but he had let you hold onto him at the ice skating rink. And then again at the beach.

So, when the girls had an ‘intervention’ in your bedroom to ask what was going on between you and the Half-n-Half boy, you were positive the answer was nothing, whether they believed it or not.

And now, there was a dormitory movie night. A relaxation day planned by Iida and Momo, and you sat on the couch next to Todoroki. He sat in the middle of the couch with Midoriya and Ochako sitting on the other side of him while you squeezed in between hm and the arm of the couch. You were on his right side, which was nice with the warm tea Momo had made for everyone and the fuzzy blanket you had thrown over yourself and the youngest Todoroki.

As the movie continued, you learned your head against his shoulder.

“Mm,” he grunted softly, shuffling around in his seat to get comfortable.

Eventually. his arm just wrapped around your shoulder, letting your head lay on his chest instead of his boney shoulder. Your cheeks warmed up, but he kept his gaze on the TV.

Ochako and Midoriya were looking between each other and the two of you with smirks on their faces, giddily laughing together.

As you got too cold in his arms, you moved so that your upper body was practically in his lap, attempting to get closer to his left side.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Stop moving.”

“It’s too cold now,” you mumbled.

He sighed, placing his left hand on top of your head.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

Yet another movie night, and this time, before you could sit down, a hand grabbed your wrist.

“Yeah, not this again,” Todoroki said, and he pulled you down towards him before you could sit next to him.

You landed in his lap, and your cheeks heated up.

“U-uh,” you mumbled as he pulled the blanket around the both of you and let his arms wrap about your waist.

“You move too much during movies,” he stated as if it made sense why you were in his lap. “This way, you don’t need to because you’re against both my hot and cold side.”

“Um... okay...” you said softly.

You leaned against him softly and his chest rested on your shoulder to watch the movie. 

How it was that Shoto Todoroki became your human temperature moderator, you had no idea.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

add yourself to my GENERAL WORKS TAGLIST

TAGLIST❋❀ bolded usernames are one that it wouldn’t let me tag

@yaskna @mariishat @misssugarless @drarrylov3r

[avewritesmr]

Stray kids reaction to y/k having tattoo sleeves? 🙏🏻 I’ve seen reactions where they specified a couple tattoos but I wanna know what their reaction would be with someone that has sleeves. Or wants to get more tattoos (; also could some of the settings be like on a date? Like during the stage where they’re getting to know y/k?) thnx 💓

Reaction to boyfriend who has a tattoo sleeve

A/N: So I only did three members (picked at random) to avoid this getting repetitive, I think I strayed a little off topic, not sure, but please let me know what you think of it anonie, I loved writing it, and I am so sorry it has taken me so long to write it, all the love and in hopes of having more time to write now that college application and decision time is coming to a wrap 💖

Seo Changbin (Implied NSFW Content)

y/n and Changbin meet on the coldest day of winter, it’s literally freezing and the entire city is basically iced over.

y/n is the new producer at JYP and it just so happens that Changbin is asked to work with y/n on a project.

At first Changbin is really skeptical, y/n is this quiet, kind of scary looking person and he communicates through glaring and frowning instead of words.

Then Changbin starts to slowly get to know him and things change, he finds out that y/n isn’t rude or scary and they get pretty close throughout the time they are working on the project.

When they are no longer work colleagues and the project is complete, Changbin works up the courage to ask y/n out on a date.

They don’t officially date or anything for a while, they go out together on a couple dates and hang out, they spend lots of time together and it is very obvious they are both basically in love with each other.

y/n doesn’t try to hide his tattoos or anything, Changbin’s seen a few of them, the one on the side of his neck and the ones on his wrists and knuckles but he’s never seen the whole thing.

Then one day they’re sitting in Changbin’s studio and somehow y/n spills an entire thing of iced coffee on himself and he’s only wearing a long sleeved shirt.

Changbin has a spare shirt from dance practice so he goes to grab it and in the meantime y/n pulls his dirty shirt off.

Changbin finds the shirt in a drawer and turns around to give it to y/n and he just freezes.

y/n doesn’t even notice him staring, he takes the shirt offered to him and slips it on going back to whatever he was doing before while poor Changbin stares on in shocked silence. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You have so many tattoos.” Changbin mutters quietly.

y/n smiles slightly, “You don’t like them?”Changbin shakes his head quickly, he loves them, if he had wanted to kiss y/n before now he wants to jump the other man’s bones, he thinks they are hot and such a turn on.

y/n seems to understand as much and he goes out of his way after that to put them on display even though it’s still freezing outside.

Changbin isn’t complaining (at first), after a while he just finds himself staring at y/n’s tattoos, they aren’t even officially dating so he can’t just grab y/n’s arms and trace over the tattoos or ask the older to do anything to him.The whole thing leads to a lot of frustration on Changbin’s end and a lot of amusement on y/n’s.

“You know you can look at my tattoos if you want, you don’t need to look away every time I look in your general direction.”Changbin’s cheeks flare read but he hesitantly moves to sit closer to y/n and runs the tips of his fingers across one of the many tattoos.

“They’re so hot.” Changbin slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it, y/n on the other hand finds this hilarious.

“Are they?” He is so close to Changbins face and his arm has moved to wrap around Changbin’s waist.Changbin remembers every thought he’s ever had about y/n’s hands and the tattoos and what he wants the older to do to him and he can see all the tattoos so close that it makes everything so much worse.

y/n’s smirk is enough to convince him to move towards the older and pull the other’s arm around his waist, he has no idea where the confidence comes from but at this point he has nothing to lose and he’s been fantasizing for way too long anyways.

Things end up so much better than he had every dreamed of and he has to concede that tattoos are the hottest thing ever, especially when they’re y/n’s and they stand out on white knuckles that hold Changbin’s hips down.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin loves tattoos, he thinks they're cool and the moment JYP lets him get a tattoo (I am not sure if he already has a tattoo tbh) he is getting a tattoo because tattoos are just so cool.

So why doesn't Hyunjin know that his boyfriend (of like 4 months) has enough tattoos to cover 90% of the skin on his right arm? Simple, answer.

y/n is an idol, he isn't aloud to show his tattoos on national television, and since a lot of his initial interactions with

Hyunjin had been backstage at music shows...

music shows = no tattoos being shown.

So let's go back to the beginning to get a clear picture

Hyunjin and y/n first meet at a music show backstage, Hyunjin has heard of y/n but he hasn't really seen pictures of the other that often and now he is face to face with probably the most attractive person he has met in a long time.

y/n is leaning against a wall in the hallway outside the bathroom in a beautifully tailored suit and Hyunjin, who is walking out of the bathroom, is completely enamored by this man that he might know the name of but can't be sure.

person walks past Hyunjin and y/n shoves his phone into his pocket talking happily to said person before they disappear down the hallway.

Detective Hyunjin mode = activated.

His detective work involves a quick google search to identify what group y/n is in and confirm his name, turns out he was right about the name and so he spends the next 2 hours of waiting before he has to preform just scrolling through pictures and tweets about y/n.

He resolves that day that he needs to talk to the other no matter what it takes, he just needs y/n's number.

His first plan is to recruit Jisung and Jeongin's help because they tend to find talking to new people easier and maybe he won't be as awkward if he talks to y/n with other people present.

This plan falls through very quickly because instead of helping all Jeongin and Jisung do is laugh at him.

He turns to his second (and last) plan.

Lee Minho is 2 months older than y/n, so maybe by some stroke of luck Minho knows y/n, or someone in his group, and Hyunjin can maybe convince Minho to help him start a conversation with the other.

Hyunjin is in luck, not only is Minho more empathetic about his hardships than Jisung and Jeongin but he just so happens to know y/n well enough to be able to walk up to him and strike up conversation.

Hyunjin follows Minho with gradually decreasing confidence. Sure he is going to get the chance to talk to y/n, which is what he wanted, but what the hell is he going to say?

Should he just ask for the others number?

Just introduce himself and maybe y/n will ask for his number? Maybe he can just turn around now and run away before this gets particularly embarrassing for him?

Maybe the floor underneath him will open up and swallow him whole because good lord y/n just smiled in his general direction and why are there so many people in this area at this specific time?

Turns out y/n wasn't smiling specifically at him, he was smiling more at Minho.

"This is Hyunjin, he wanted to tag along."

"Hey, I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you." Maybe his smile will kill Hyunjin before he remembers how to talk.

"uhh-hh, yes I know, I- uh, Hyunjin." God why was that so awkward someone save him, where did Minho walk off to? who is that? why did he take Minho away from him?

"Are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, I am good." god he needed salvation right now.Basically, Hyunjin is awkward and nervous and he feels like the first meeting is a complete disaster and y/n will never talk to him again.

Somehow though y/n decided he isn't pitiful enough to ignore and walk away from, it takes a bit of prodding and joking on y/n's part for Hyunjin to relax a little and they hold a decent conversation. When Minho informs Hyunjin they have to head back y/n is typing his number into Hyunjin's phone and urging him to send a text whenever.

y/n and Hyunjin talk often after that, they meet again just a little over a week later backstage at a music show again and decided that they should take the risk and start dating.

They're moving a little quickly true, but, they can learn more about each other as time goes on.

Neither one of them is necessarily free at any one point in time, they see each other at a few events but their dating is limited to talking over the phone and basically texting all the time.

And then the day comes.

Hyunjin has the day off and y/n has wrapped up a photo shoot, the timing is perfect, the managers are okay with it and Hyunjin is buzzing with excitement because it's been almost 4 months and he is going to go to his boyfriend now.

They decide to meet at y/n's empty dorm just to be in each others presence.

So Hyunjin is standing outside the dorm door waiting for y/n to let him in and he is just shaking with happiness.

So when y/n opens the door with his hair a little messy and no make up on, Hyunjin's first instinct is to launch himself at the other and hug him as tightly as he can.

They might not have been able to see each other these last four months but that doesn't mean Hyunjin hasn't learned enough about the other to love him.

y/n only laughs and pulls him into the dorm hugging back with a soft smile on his face.

Hyunjin is so busy hugging y/n that he doesn't see the tattoos covering y/n's right arm.

He doesn't see them in fact until after he's been ushered into y/n's room and is about to head towards the cat laying under the window.

He turns around to ask y/n about the cat's name and then freezes because holy mother of all beings is that a tattoo sleeve?

"Yeah, is it a problem?"

"A problem? god no!" Hyunjin moves closer to war his fingers around y/n's arm and raise it so he can inspect the intricate designs.

"They look so cool, this just makes me want a tattoo even more." y/n laughs, "I can take you to get one." Hyunjin looks up with starry eyes.

"Management would kill, but I don't really care anymore."

"Maybe you should get it okayed before you do anything?"

"If they try to kill me you'll come riding in on a motorbike and wearing a leather jacket and save me." Hyunjin replies with a serious face.

y/n laughs, "That is just a stereotype, my mom would kill me if I got on a motorbike."So what did Hyunjin learn today?

He definitely wants a tattoo and wouldn't mind getting yelled at by management for getting one behind their back. He wants y/n to go with him because this man is an expert and if anyone (y/n included) disagrees then Hyunjin will be inclined to fight them.

y/n is 100% a mama's boy and Hyunjin is living for it (Another one of his life sources at this point in time is y/n's tattooed arm wrapped around his waist but he doesn't want to discuss those emotions just yet).

Yang Jeongin (I.N)

So y/n’s a barista at a cafe and that is how Jeongin meets him first, it is late summer, the uniform for the cafe workers is a button down white shirt so even though it is 35 degrees (Celsius) out Jeongin never sees y/n in anything but his work uniform which is a long sleeve button down white shirt.

After 2 months of (not really) subtle crushing Jeongin asks y/n for his phone number, they chat for a few days and then go on their first date in early October.

The date is a sweet, cliche outing, Jeongin is a blushing mess 90% of the time and y/n treats him with so much care. Dates aren’t that frequent after the first one but just before winter Jeongin and y/n make it official.

At this point it is so cold that there is never a moment for Jeongin to see y/n without a coat, hoodie or long sleeved shirt, so he lives a life of blissful ignorance for almost a month.

And then one day he is sitting at the counter in the cafe, y/n is just finishing his shift and Jeongin is waiting for him.

The manager walks by and tells y/n to clean up before he hands over to the next person and so y/n moves to the sink and rolls up his sleeves.

Jeongin isn’t really paying attention, he’s a little focused on his phone, but then he looks up.

😯 = Yang Jeongin when he saw y/n’s tattoos.

“Your face literally just derailed.”

“I didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Well you didn’t really ever get a chance to see them.” Silence.

“I am sorry I probably should have told you before this.”Jeongin doesn’t respond to that, he doesn’t know how to, so he sits in silence contemplating the situation, while y/n finishes up. When they walk out of the cafe it is in strained silence, Jeongin doesn’t like it at all.

“Can I see them?”

“Sure, let’s go sit somewhere.”They end up on a park bench, y/n with his sleeves rolled up and Jeongin carefully tracing the ink covering y/n’s arm his eyes widened in awe.

“What’s the meaning behind thisone?”

“Nothing really, I got it because I thought it looked nice.”Jeongin laughs lightly and goes back to studying the tattoos on y/n’s arm, now that he is over the initial shock of discovering the tattoos he is enraptured by them.

He’ll probably stare at them whenever y/n wears something short sleeved, or rolls up his sleeves.

He genuinely thinks they are really cool and thinks his boyfriend is like a million times cooler with them.

[where-our-stories-start]

How to Write Dialogue, Part 1: Natural Speech, or Making Your Characters Sound Like Actual People

So a lot of creative writers struggle with dialogue, and it’s one of the things I actually find easier. I’ve learned a lot from various pieces of writing advice on tumblr, so I figured I’d contribute my bit as well. Some of my basic tenets for writing natural-sounding dialogue:

1. Actual people do not always talk in full, grammatically correct sentences.

When we talk to one another, we rarely use proper written grammar. We drop articles, don’t finish our sentences, abbreviate words, etc. Consider this exchange:

“Hey, what are you doing after school?” Aliya asked.

Leanne looked up at her friend. “I don’t know, why?”

“A couple of us are getting ice cream. Steve’s driving; do you want to come?”

“Sure. Hang on, let me just tell my mom.” Leanne pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. “Okay, I’m ready to go.”

“Cool,” Aliya said. “I have to grab my bag, so I’ll meet you outside in five minutes, okay?”

And now this one:

“Hey, you doing anything after school?” Aliya asked.

Leanne looked up at her friend. “Dunno, why?”

“A couple of us are getting ice cream. Steve’s driving; wanna come?”

“Sure, hang on, lemme just...” Leanne pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to her Mom. “Okay, yeah, I’m good.”

“Cool,” Aliya said. “I gotta grab my bag, so meet you outside in five?”

Which sounds more natural? Which feels more like teenagers?

That’s not to say that your dialogue should never be grammatically correct or include full sentences. In fact, grammar can be a useful way to signal how formal or casual a situation/relationship is. If your sibling asks if you’re busy, you might respond, “Nah, I’m free, what’s up?” but if your boss asks, you might respond, “No, I have a minute. What can I do for you?” Your speech becomes more casual when you’re comfortable or when you’re talking to someone you know well. Your speech becomes more formal when you’re in a stricter environment or when you’re talking to someone you want to impress.

2. We almost never say people’s names when addressing them.

One of the most common habits of inexperienced writers is to have everyone calling each other by their names all the time. In reality, we almost always use names when referring to someone we’re not talking to.

Generally, if we’re using a person’s name as a direct address, it’s for one of the following reasons:

We’re getting their attention (“Hey, Sarah, can you come help me?”)

We’re giving a piece of information to just them, rather than the whole group (“All right, everybody ready? Sarah, you lead the way.”)

We’re trying to really drive an important point home, particularly one we’re making in anger or frustration (“For God’s sake, Sarah, I’m doing my best here!”)

Other than that, we pretty much don’t say people’s names to them, so your characters shouldn’t do it either.

3. Break up dialogue with action.

Nothing makes a reader’s eyes glaze over like huge blocks of text. We know this when it comes to description--how often have you tried to read a book with huge, dense paragraphs on clothing or weather or social structure or any number of other things--but it can be true with dialogue too. Even if the focus of your scene is a conversation, we need action to ground us in the scene. If your characters talk for too long without a physical check-in, we start to find it difficult to “see” them. When we experience real interactions, we process dialogue and visual stimuli simultaneously. Threading them together in your writing will make it feel more real to your reader.

Consider this quick scene:

Adam walked into the kitchen to find his mom sitting at the table, reading. She looked up when he entered.

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” Adam said.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Lisa might be pregnant.”

“Okay,” Mom said, her voice even. “She doesn’t know for sure yet?”

“No,” Adam answered. “She got a pregnancy test after school. She said she’ll text me right after. She’s three weeks late, though, so.”

“So,” Mom agreed. “Thank you for telling me. If she is pregnant, you know I’m always here. Whatever you two want to do, I’ll help you figure it out.”

The scene is all about the conversation between Adam and his mom, so it makes sense for the focus to be on the conversation. It’s also not a scene where they’re moving around a ton. However, little bits of action can not only ground the scene for the reader, they can also provide additional information and insight. Let’s make some little changes:

Adam walked into the kitchen to find his mom sitting at the table, reading. She looked up when he entered.

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” Adam said.

Immediately, Mom closed her book and folded her hands on top of it. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Lisa might be pregnant.”

“Okay,” Mom said, her voice even. “She doesn’t know for sure yet?”

“No,” Adam answered, sitting down across from her. “She got a pregnancy test after school. She said she’ll text me right after. She’s three weeks late, though, so.”

“So,” Mom agreed. “Thank you for telling me. If she is pregnant, you know I’m always here. Whatever you two want to do, I’ll help you figure it out.”

I only added one action for each character, but see what they do to the scene. In the original, we hear Mom welcome Adam’s need to talk to her, but by adding a bit of physicality, we can see clearly how she recognizes his serious tone and immediately gives him her undivided attention. This lends specificity to this interaction, but it also gives us insight into what kind of mother she is in general, and makes it feel believable that he trusts her enough to come to her for this in the first place.

Adam’s action is tiny, just sitting down. However, it clarifies a few things for us. First and most obviously, we say what he’s doing. In the original, since we don’t see him sit, it’s left unclear whether Adam stays standing or joins his mother at the table. In the revision, we not only know where he is, but the placement of this action colors his emotional state. He blurts out the crux of his problem immediately and bluntly, perhaps to just get it over with, perhaps because he’s worried he’ll lose his nerve. Then, once his mom reacts well and they need to talk details, he sits down to continue the conversation.

Little actions like fiddling with something, brushing hair/sweat out of your face, closing a door, sighing, glancing aside, shifting in your chair, pouring yourself something to drink, etc. can ground your reader in the scene and remind them (and you!) where the characters are. They’re also a way to use your characters’ body language to say things that aren’t (or shouldn’t be) present in your dialogue or speech tags.

4. When in doubt, read it aloud!

The easiest way to find out if your dialogue sounds natural is to listen to it. You can read it on your own, or even better, with a friend to play each character. Read just the speech, not the dialogue tags or descriptions. How does it sound? How does it feel? Is there anything you’re tempted to phrase differently from how it’s written? Are there times one character responds to the other in a way that doesn’t quite fit or make sense? Obviously your characters may have different speech patterns from yours, but generally, if you stumble over something in the conversation, they will too. It’s worth reworking it into something that would more naturally fit into your own mouth, and therefore into the mouths of your characters.

[chasingpj]

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐭-𝐔𝐩

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 3,887

warnings: none?? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I was supposed to post this yesterday, but oops. I don't have much to say. again, it's a little bit of a slow start just because I want to introduce characters and establish relationship dynamics before getting into the good stuff. anyways, i hope you like it! i love hearing feedback so don't hesitate to reach out to me!

Part One Part Two Part Three

When you were stressed or needed to be alone with your thoughts, you often found yourself in the strawberry fields, either helping collect the harvest or simply sitting on the grass patches nearby. You usually preferred being in the fields alone, peacefully listening to the chirping of the birds and cicadas while inhaling the scent of sun-baked strawberries. However, there were times where you did stumble upon the company of the girls from the Demeter and Aphrodite cabin. You didn't mind hanging out with them, always amused at their banter and choice of conversation. They were always bubbly, taking advantage of the leisure activity to gossip and have girl talk, and it was nice, even if you were just listening.

Today was one of those days where you weren’t alone in the fields. Standing alongside Silena, Katie, and your half-sister, Lou Ellen, you find yourself zoning in and out of their conversation. Their chattering and giggling serve as background noise as you focus on cutting the strawberries from their stems to carefully place them in your basket.

"Who do you think are the cutest boys at camp?" You hear Silena ask when you decide to tune back into their conversation. A silence falls amongst the group; Katie and Lou Ellen were suddenly hesitant to speak. You look up, waiting for one of them to break the silence because it definitely wasn’t going to be you.

"I know what you're doing! You're trying to find out our crushes," Katie points her finger at Silena accusingly. Lou Ellen nods,

“Yeah, we know your tricks, Silena! You’re gonna try and set us up with people.”

"What? No!" Silena denies, but the smirk on her face said otherwise. "I'm just asking in general! You can find someone cute and not have a crush on them,” she points out. The three of you weren’t convinced at Silena’s claims, and the silence returns. You turn back to what you were doing, not really wanting to trap yourself in this conversation, and you decide to leave the pressure of confession to Katie and Lou Ellen.

"Okay.” Katie turns her body to face you. You hesitantly meet her gaze, already knowing what she's going to confess. "... this might be weird, but I think your brother is really cute," she admits, giggling nervously as she looks at both you and Lou Ellen. You scrunch your nose, shaking your head while Lou Ellen joins your reaction as she gags theatrically. The confession didn't surprise you, but it still felt weird to hear it.

"He's ugly!" You exclaim. Silena laughs, her head thrown back as Katie gasps at your insult about Atticus. Even though this wasn't the first time you've heard this from girls at camp, you still found it strange. Even your mortal friends have told you that they think your brother is adorable. You’ll never admit it out loud to anyone, but you were aware that your brother definitely wasn't ugly. Obviously, he wasn't if almost all of your friends had to mention his appearance at least once. Not only was Atticus conventionally attractive, but he was also a natural flirt, so he got attention from girls fairly easily. So much so that before your mother claimed you, Connor and Travis Stoll swore you guys were going to be claimed by Aphrodite.

You've only seen him flirt a handful of times, usually with the wood nymphs and playfully with the girls from the Aphrodite cabin. It was strange seeing girls flirt with him and giggle at all his stupid jokes because that “smooth” Atticus they meet is so different from the Atticus you saw. The Atticus you got to see was a clumsy dork that obsessed over Harry Potter and had a habit of bursting into song whenever he was bored, most often singing his own rendition of a song from a broadway musical or of a rock song from the 90s.

"No, he isn't! His facial structure is amazing!” Katie gushes. “And he's tall and has broad shoulders. He's also really funny!" You and Lou Ellen stare at her with a straight face before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

“He’s a dork!” Lou Ellen chokes through her laughs, and you nod, agreeing with her.

"Hey! I get where Katie is coming from! As his sisters, you guys are biased. Of course, you’re gonna say he's ugly," Silena points out, and you sigh,

“Live with him in the Hermes Cabin for a couple of weeks, and when you see him in his natural state, you won’t find him cute anymore,” you joke. Katie shakes her head,

“I don’t believe you. I bet he’s even cuter! You’re calling him a dork, but jokes on you, I like dorks,” she says playfully, crossing her arms over her chest, and you smile at her.

“To each their own, I guess.”

"What about you? Who do you think is cute?" Silena asks you. You side-eye the other, and you feel your face heat up. You really didn’t want to be the target in this conversation. Turning back to the bushes, you answer her question with a shrug of your shoulders. Silena scoffs, "there has to be someone! We have a good group of guys to choose from at camp."

"I mean, yeah…" you trail off hesitantly, and you feel the stares of the girls as they wait for your answer. You knew they weren't going to let this go, and so, you sigh softly, taking a moment to find the courage to confess. "I guess Percy is cute-"

"Y/n!"

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your shoulder tenses up at the sound of the familiar voice. It was too much of a coincidence that Percy showed up the exact moment you were speaking about him. The girls laugh at your reaction and your cheeks somehow become hotter as Silena smiles at you knowingly. If she didn't sense your crush before, she definitely sensed it now. Snapping your gaze away from her, you find the courage to turn around.

"Hey, Percy," you say, smiling sheepishly. You fiddle with your fingers as you take in his appearance. Percy was wearing his orange camp half-blood shirt and cargo pants. His cheeks were a little flushed at the summer heat, and you assume he probably came from training. As usual, his dark hair was slightly disheveled, and you couldn’t help your lips curling into a soft smile.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. You left these on the dock," he says, presenting the black pouch filled with your crystals in his hand. You gasp softly as you take it from him.

"Oh! Thank you. I can’t believe I forgot them," You shake your head at yourself as you put them in your strawberry basket in the meantime. You didn’t understand how your forgotten crystals never came to your mind once, especially this late in the day.

"No problem. I think they’re all in there," he smiles at you before acknowledging the girls standing behind you. "Hey, guys.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as they giggle amongst themselves. They murmur a few things to each other before turning their gaze to him again.

"Percy, I wanted to ask who do you think is the prettiest girl at camp?" Silena asks as the girls move to surround him. You're stomach flutters crazily with nerves, and you cringe, feeling embarrassed even though Percy was oblivious to the motive behind the question.

Percy looks around him, shifting his weight from one foot to another,

"This… feels like a trap,” he says slowly, making the girls giggle.

"It's not! We just want to know. Anyone, in particular, stands out to you?" Silena steps closer to him.

"Any crushes?" Katie asks.

"There has to be someone, right?" Lou Ellen smiles.

"Um… I- why are you guys asking so many questions?" He mutters, his shoulders tense up as he avoids the stares of the three girls practically towering over him.

"Guys, leave him alone," you laugh shortly. "You don't have to answer all that," you reassure him, cutting through their little circle as you squeeze between Silena and Katie.

You stand beside Percy, the girls deciding to step down and return to their original places. Silena smiles, and you can't tell what she's thinking, but you knew that the smile playing on her lips made you nervous. You awkwardly exchange a look with Percy, noticing that he was just as flustered as you were.

"You know… I noticed that those bushes over there get a lot of sun," Silena says, breaking her silence as she turns to Katie and Lou Ellen. She points at the bushes about three rows from where you were all standing, and Katie nods,

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here." Silena gives you a smirk, winking at you before turning around and taking the other girls with her.

You resume your strawberry picking, chewing on your button lip. You were hoping that he didn't witness Silena wink at you because if he did, it was then way too obvious that the girls spontaneously set up this. There's a silence for a moment, and you feel your palms start to sweat as you try to figure out what you were going to say to him.

"Where's Ambrose?" Percy asks softly, and you glance over for a second, watching as he picks the strawberries beside you.

"Oh, uh, he ran off a little while ago with my brothers. They're probably playing somewhere." You smile, remembering how Ambrose wasted no time, running over to Alabaster and Ernest the moment they had offered to play with him.

"... how do you play with a ghost dog?" Percy gleams, amused at the idea of playing with Ambrose considering he couldn’t touch many things.

"There's a process where you can offer things to his spirit, so he has a few toys that he can play with," you explain. “He and I play with his toys all the time, but he’s with my brother’s right now, so they're probably wrestling."

"What? Really? I wouldn’t want to wrestle Ambrose,” Percy admits as a short laugh comes from his mouth.

"Yeah, me neither. He would definitely win if we did. Once he was so excited to see me; he jumped on me and knocked me down no problem,” you shake your head. “I think he forgets how big he is, and he ends up getting carried away sometimes.”

You look up from what you were doing, unexpectedly meeting Percy’s green eyes that resemble the color of the Caribbean sea as the sun shines into them. The butterflies in your stomach return, and you’re trying not to focus on the fact that the other was already looking at you. You look elsewhere, suddenly too shy to look at him, but your eyes couldn’t help but flicker back to his face. From this close, you noticed things about him that you didn’t see before, like the scattered freckles on his face, his long eyelashes, and his slightly chapped lips.

“I-” he stops himself suddenly, and your eyebrows furrow. The tension between you both was something you've never felt before. You didn't understand why Percy looked dazed, staring at you as if he found you to be the most captivating person in the world.

You open your mouth, but before you could speak, you see something moving at the end of the bush row. Breaking your gaze with Percy, you notice Silena's focusing intensely on you and him. It suddenly dawns on you that the strange tension was because she was working that love magic that all the Aphrodite children can do. She smirks when she sees that you’ve noticed her, and you swore you saw her mouth a “you’re welcome.” The tension suddenly falls as she hides behind the bushes right as Percy turns around to find out what you were looking at.

You giggle nervously, “um, yeah. Anyways... Ambrose can put up a fight,” you say, trying to revert to the original topic because you really didn’t want to discuss what just happened. You give him a second to get himself together, Percy looking a little disoriented after being under Silena's look magic. He blinks a few times before turning abruptly toward the strawberry bushes. A nervous chuckle leaves his lips, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. He shifts on his feet and nods,

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He clears his throat, his voice coming out a little higher than he had intended it to be. You bite your bottom lip, trying to refrain from laughing, and you hum softly in response.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit before your conversation had picked up again. Surprisingly, even after being unknowingly manipulated by Silena’s magic, Percy moved on quickly from the awkward tension. You found it was easy to talk to him, the two of you chatting as if you didn't just meet yesterday. The two of you talked and laughed a lot, sharing funny stories from quests or about your mortal parents.

You’ve never been a closed-off person, and you were able to share things easily with people, so the conversation flew naturally. You guys talked about the weird perks of your powers. One of the weird perks you shared is your ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and you end up freaking him out with the many stories of your paranormal experiences.

You weren't sure how long you were talking to him, but time felt like it flew by, and eventually, your baskets were filled with strawberries as you finished picking the row. The sun was lower in the sky, and you assume that it was almost time for dinner. You figured you should find your siblings, and Ambrose and Percy had mentioned that he had plans to climb the lava wall with a few of his friends. So you guys placed your baskets in the drop-off section where they package the strawberries, exchanging a short “see you later” before parting ways.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The last thing Annabeth was expecting to see today was an out-of-breath Atticus bursting into her cabin, but there he was. She jumps in her seat at the sudden bang, the sound cutting through the silence. Her gaze snaps from her book to the door, concerned for a second as Atticus looks panicked. He lets himself in, scoping out the room in search of something.

"What are you-?"

"Have you seen Harvey?" Atticus asks, frantically looking for his familiar. Harvey is a black-footed ferret that was given to him by his mother. When you guys found out that Ambrose was for you, Atticus was pretty bummed. He was jealous that your mother had given you such a cool gift, and you had assumed that she had seen how upset he was because a few days after Hecate officially claimed you, Atticus received Harvey as a present. The morning he met Harvey for the first time, Atticus was thrilled to wake up with the ferret casually sitting on his chest.

"I'm sorry, Harvey? I don't know a Harvey?" Annabeth turns in her chair to face him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"My ferret, have you seen him?" Atticus drops to his knees, looking under the beds and the nightstands. He just saw him jump into the back window of the Athena Cabin, so he was sure that Harvey was hiding somewhere.

"Um, no?" Annabeth rolls her eyes, finding it rude that he has barged in as if he lived there. Suddenly, a small animal jumps from the top of the bookcase beside her and right on her desk. Annabeth yelps, getting up from her seat quick as Harvey snorts, and he clumsily runs across her papers before prancing across all the desks that were lined against the wall.

"Harvey, what are you doing?!" Atticus exclaims as he moves to stand up. He attempts to meet Harvey at the last desk, but Harvey jumps out of his reach just as he closes his fist to grab him. Harvey zooms across the room, forcing him to play a one-sided game of tag that Atticus was definitely losing. He occasionally slips and stumbles, the snorts that leave his snout starting to sound like mocking laughter.

"What's wrong with your rat?" Annabeth jokes as her eyes follow Harvey around the room.

"He's a ferret," Atticus corrects her, mumbling under his breath. He sighs as he tries to catch up with the animal, failing miserably as not only was he crazy fast, he was able to find the smallest corners to hide in.

"Similar family," she shrugs, smirking at him. "And you didn't answer my question."

Atticus sighs, getting on the floor to try and grab Harvey, who’s tucked in the corner under one of the beds. He squints at the small animal, not sure why he’s acting this way when Harvey was curled up on his desk, peacefully taking a nap about 20 minutes ago.

"He does this sometimes. I don't know. He wants to play, and then he causes chaos," Atticus grunts, almost grabbing Harvey, but he runs out of his reach once again. Atticus groans as he sits back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decides he might as well take a breather since he's been chasing him for the past 10 minutes, and he considers that he should stop entertaining him since Harvey obviously saw this as some game.

He sighs softly, choosing to forget about Harvey as he looks over at Annabeth. Her gray eyes are fixed on him as she leans against the edge of her desk. Her curly blonde locks are pulled back in a messy low ponytail allowing the front strands to frame her face prettily. Atticus smiles as he admires her, taking in her appearance before she starts telling him off.

"You look pretty like that," Atticus compliments, his heart skipping a beat as their eyes meet. He watches as her expression softens for a second, her eyes wide at the random compliment. Atticus smirks softly, not surprised, as her face suddenly darkens into a scowl. If Annabeth felt anything for him, she was good at hiding it.

When Atticus had first arrived at camp last summer, Annabeth and he spoke here and there. Their conversations were brief but pleasant, and Atticus found himself wanting to talk to her more often. As his crush for her grew, he had taken it upon himself to harmlessly flirt with her, hoping she’d get the hint that he was interested.

"Like what?" She asks, her chin up as she moves to stand up straight on her feet.

"With your hair in a ponytail like that. It's cute.”

"Hmm. Thanks for letting me know, so I'll never do it like this again,” she says in such a serious tone that made Atticus laugh. There it is. Annabeth was always quick to shut him down, and she never failed to make witty comebacks. He was pretty certain that it was just banter, but it made it hard to tell if she was maybe into him. But he never failed to notice how occasionally, she’d momentarily be lost for words or have a flustered look on her face before it hardened as it did a moment ago.

"You'd be pretty regardless, Chase.” He feels his knees start to ache, and he sighs as he gets back up on his feet.

"Don't call me that," Annabeth says abruptly.

"What? Chase? What do you prefer? Annie? Beth? Anna?" He teases.

"I prefer Annabeth, thank you." She gives him a tight, sarcastic smile, and a short laugh comes from Atticus’s mouth.

"That's not fun, though…" His hand comes under his chin as he studies her. He ponders for a second, trying to come up with a name that he can personally call her. Annabeth shifts, avoiding his gaze as she looks elsewhere. She was weirded out that the other was looking at her for so long, and she tried not to show how flustered she actually was. She grunts,

"What?! What are you look-"

"Goldilocks," Atticus blurts out, his finger pointing into the air as his face brightens, thinking he’s an absolute genius for coming up with that name. Annabeth shakes her head,

"Don't call me th-"

"It's been decided. I will call you goldilocks. No one else can call you that," Atticus cuts her off, the same proud smile plastered on his face even though Annabeth’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. Atticus takes a step back hesitantly. At first glance, she didn’t come off as intimidating, but Atticus knew better. He was always sure not to push her too far because he was completely aware of her ability to kill him.

Atticus suddenly remembers Harvey, noticing how the sound of his little feet pattering along the wooden floor ceased a while ago. He scans the room finding Harvey standing on his hind legs a couple of feet away, calmly watching them. Atticus still couldn’t understand why he had acted so strangely. Familiars couldn’t talk, obviously because they’re animals but their actions are never out of vain. They’re usually trying to tell you something if they’re acting strange, and it takes a while to put the pieces together since there is only so much they can do. After thinking for a second, it dawns on Atticus that Harvey purposely made him come to the Athena Cabin so that he can talk to Annabeth. He smiles to himself, walking toward Harvey. He didn’t run away this time, allowing Atticus to put him on his shoulder.

"He just stopped,” Annabeth points out, her head tilting to the side.

"Probably got tired?" Atticus makes an excuse for him, not wanting to admit that Harvey had decided to be his wingman today. "Sorry for barging in, by the way," he apologizes. “I saw him jump in from the window, and I was worried he’d break something.”

"Whatever. Don’t do it again.”

"Got it. Well, I'll see you around, Goldilocks. Happy studying.” Atticus turns on his heels, hearing a scoff coming from Annabeth as he walks out of the cabin.

"When did I ask you to be my wingman?" Atticus asks Harvey as he walks off the steps of the Athena Cabin. He reaches up, his index finger petting the top of his head. "You're crazy, bud... But she is cute, isn't she?" Atticus laughs, Harvey snorting as if he agrees with him.

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[rebelwrites]

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Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

“Mummy, will daddy be home for my birthday tomorrow?” Larni asked, looking up at you with her big blue eyes as she sat on the kitchen side watching you make dinner.

“Larni baby, I don’t know” you sighed standing in front of her, placing your hands on her knees. “I haven’t spoke to him for a couple of days but he should be calling tonight, hopefully he knows when he will be heading home”

“I miss him” she pouted. “I don’t like it when he goes away”

“Neither do I pumpkin but it’s his job okay” You said softly brushing her blonde curls out of her face, she was the spitting image of Clay, even down to her mannerisms, so at times it made it harder when he was on deployment. “But tell you what, how about we stay up and have a movie night and wait for daddy to call”

Before she could respond the laptop started going off to signal Clay was calling, glancing up at the clock, it was too early for him to be calling, but it probably meant he wasn’t going to make his usual call.

“Daddddy” Larni giggled as she tried to jump off the counter but you caught her just in time.

Hitting answer on the call, you couldn’t help but smile as you saw Clay’s face pop up on the screen.

“Daddddy” Larni screamed again as she saw his face.

“Hey pumpkin” he grinned. “I miss you”

“I miss you more” she giggled touching the screen “are you going to be home for my birthday tomorrow?”

You knew by the slight falter in his smile what the answer would be.

“No baby I’m not” he sighed “that’s why I’m calling now, because we are having to go fight the bad guys tonight”

“I really wish you could be here” Larni pouted.

“So do I sweetie pie but Daddy has to save the world” Clay smiled.

“You are a blonde superhero” she giggled.

“And you have been spending to much time around Uncle Sonny” Clay laughed and in the background you heard Jase shouting him “I’m sorry this is such a short call, we gotta go for briefing, but I promise we will be home soon and when I get home we will do whatever you want for your birthday okay. And happy birthday for tomorrow princess”

“Okay Daddy” Larni nodded. “I love you to the moon and back”

“I love you too pumpkin” Clay grinned, kissing his fingers, pressing it against the camera. “Let me speak to mummy before I go”

“Hey baby” you smiled “you look tired”

“Yeah I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed that’s for sure” he laughed. “I’m sorry we aren’t gonna make it home in time”

“Clay stop apologising, we understand” you nodded “Yes it sucks but it’s your job and we are going to have a great time tomorrow so you just focus on getting back home to us in one piece and let me worry about what’s going on here”

“Copy” he laughed

“Seriously Clay hurry your ass up we gotta roll” Jase shouted walking into the shot.

“Mummy, Uncle Jase said a bad word” Larni gasped.

“We know what that means don’t we Uncle Jase” you winked.

“I need to put money in the swear jar when I get home” he said pouting. “And happy birthday nugget”

“Right I really need to go, I love you both so much” Clay grinned.

“Love you daddy” Larni grinned “Love you Uncle Jase”

“I love you baby now go before Jase punches you” you laughed, and with one final kiss blown the call ended. You hated not knowing when he would be home but you didn’t have time to focus on that, not with Larni turning 5 tomorrow.

“I hate lying to them man” Clay sighed as he packed the laptop up, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Yeah well you wanted this to be a surprise, we have known we were flying home tonight for a week now” Jase said pushing him out of the bunk.

“I can’t wait to see their faces when we turn up” Clay smiled at the thought of being reunited with his girls.

“I think this might be nuggets favourite birthday” Jase nodded as they walked onto the plane. “Get comfy boys it’s a long flight home, get plenty of rest because we will have an excited five year old on our hands tomorrow”

After a fourteen and a half hour flight they were home and were itching to crash a five year olds party, Clay couldn’t stop grinning at the fact he would be reunited with his girls within the next hour. Tossing his bag into the back seat of the car he headed home.

The sounds of his babygirl giggling with her friends was music to his ears, each day that went by he missed that sound more and more. Now he was hearing it he swore his heart was going to burst. He just stood watching everyone from the garden gate, no one had noticed him yet which was a bonus and even if they did they wouldn’t have said anything.

He watched as you single handedly keep the food topped up and just generally being super mum.

Spinning around, you tossed so rubbish in the bin liner you were holding, when you locked eyes with Clay, you had to double take for a second to make sure your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you. The moment you realised this was real you dropped the bin bag and ran over to him, jumping into his arms the moment you were close enough, your legs wrapped tight around his waist and your arms around his neck as he spun you around.

“You’re home” you whispered as happy tears filled your eyes before your lips connected with his as he held onto you tightly.

You weren’t kissing for long when all you heard was a tiny voice.

“Eeeeewwwww that’s gross” Larni shouted making your both laugh as Clay gently placed you down on your feet before scooping Larni up in his arms, sending her into a giggling fit.

Her tiny hands went on his cheeks as she laughed at his beard.

“You look funny daddy” she giggled.

“I look funny do I?” He smirked as he kissed all over her face.

“You said you weren't going to make it” she pouted as she realised he had lied. “You know your nose grows when you lie”

“But Daddy is let off this time right?” He asked spinning her around making her giggle again “because daddy would look funny with a big nose”

“Yeah daddy’s nose is big enough” Sonny laughed as he walked by kissing Larni’s head before pulling you into a hug.

“Hang on a minute” Clay said placing Larni on the floor, crouching down to her level taking in her outfit, his grin growing wider as he realised she was wearing one of his shirts that you had tied around the waist, her bright pink tutu, black leggings, timberlands and to top it off a cap that definitely belong to Clay. “I have a little mini me”

“I’m dressed like you daddy” she grinned “well except the tutu”

“I think daddy would look good in a pink tutu nugget” Jase laughed, making Clay roll his eyes.

“I always told you she was a mini female version of you” you grinned, placing your hands on Clay’s shoulders.

“Come on daddy, you need to come on the bouncy castle” Larni grinned, placing her tiny hand in Clay’s, dragging him through the garden.

Your heart was going to burst as you watched the two people you loved the most be reunited and sharing a moment neither of them would forget as they messed around on the bouncy castle. You knew for sure this would be a birthday Larni would never forget, she didn’t care about the presents all that mattered was her daddy was home.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @everyhowlmarksthedead @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea

[todoscript]

Love Capsule

anonymous requested: Can I request a Bakugou scenario where the reader and the Bakusquad drag him out on a shopping trip and they see a whole section of vending machines and decide to check them out to see what cute, tasty or weird things they can find and the reader and Bakugou either get lost/ditched or squeezed together in a tight row but they have a good time and maybe the reader got a rare all might mysery figure and Bakugou wants it, so they they he can have it in exchange for a date?

genre: fluff pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 4.8k+ warnings: bakusquad shenanigans. bakugou cursing. pining.

author’s note: My Bakugou angst fic isn’t done yet but I wrote this request on the side. I wanted to have something to publish after not posting any written work for awhile so I did my best to get this out asap. sorry if it seems rushed! (also reposting this because the post stopped showing up in the tags).

There are only a fair bit of things Bakugou loathes more than wasting his valuable time. And that includes wasting that time by getting dragged into public places he has no desire to be, alongside the four most senseless nitwits the boy has ever had the displeasure of befriending.

It feels less like a friend group to him and more of a gathering of idiots as he watches four out of the six huddle around the aisle of vending machines across the mall. Where’s the other one, you might ask? You’re standing right next to him, sipping a bottle of sweet lemon tea dispensed to you from those vending machines.

“Ooh, look at this one!” The other girl in his squad, styling unruly pink hair, pokes a finger toward a blue machine in particular. What she finds interesting about it is that it’s absent of all buttons except a single one above the coin slot.

“Says here that you only have to pay a hundred yen for a mystery item,” Sero reads the instructions printed boldly across the surface, his grin showing his pearly whites. “Can range from food to even toys and cheap plastic jewelry.”

Popping up behind his taller friend, Kaminari squints incredulously at the sign before his eyes brighten like he’s concocted a conspiracy. “No, dude, I’ve heard of these kinds of vending machines before! They want you to think it’s some ordinary convenience vending machine, but these things actually have some super-secret big prize hidden inside!”

“Uh, no, that’s how you get your money robbed from you, Kaminari,” Kirishima tells the blonde, and yet his warnings end up floating from one ear and flying out the other. Kaminari fishes out a small stash of coins taut in between the lint balls of his pockets.

“Yeah yeah, just wait until you eat those words when I come home with a Playstation 5!”

“Why would there be a Playstation 5 of all things in there?” Ashido asks skeptically. She notes the small slot near the bottom, appearing sizable to dispense a large water bottle at most.

“Okay, maybe not an actual PS5, but probably the voucher you take to the game store to retrieve one, of course!” He waves the doubt away as he kneels and begins his succession of slotting coins in the machine until agitation eventually ebbs his features. About five hundred yen down the drain and all he’s amounted with in exchange are two Gudetama keychains, two packets of off-brand oreo cookies, and one can of that cheap instant black coffee he dislikes. Though if it’s one thing, he and the drink have in common it’s that they’re both positively bitter.

Kirishima, Sero, and Ashido all snicker wryly behind him while he deadpans at the snotty series of prizes with the skin between his eyebrows crinkled in defeat. Ashido takes this as the time to move along the row, dragging her sullen blond friend by the elbow. “Moving on! I want to get to the one with the Yakult drinks already!” She points onward and leads her compadres down the treasure trove of intriguing automated food vendors. Two of the boys press forward enthusiastically. Kaminari has to be lugged out of his brooding in order to play along.

“God, please just take me out already,” Bakugou mutters while leering his signature miffed face behind them. According to the giggle he registers chiming to his left, it seems you heard his complaints.

“Hm, not having a good time, I’m guessing?” you ask. The metallic edge of your lemon tea creases into the cushion that is your plush bottom lip. Bakugou finds himself staring there longer than he should and immediately tears his eyes away before he’s caught.

Your playful tone throws him off a beat later than he should’ve taken to reply. “Of course. I didn’t even want to be here to begin with,” he sneers with a brisk click of his tongue, crossing his arms. In a sense, he’s only telling half of the truth.

It’s true Bakugou did not desire to be here on his own accord. The squad dared to call him at the dead of midnight, when he was already tucked into bed by nine o’clock sharp and indulging in a needed rest, only to be ruefully awoken by his phone blaring across the expanse of his dorm room. The four should’ve suffered an earful from him as they tried to arrange a shopping trip of all things at that hour. However, his disinterest in the subject withered at the bait of your name casted into the conversation. Which to them was hook, line, and sinker. The cunning group of friends reeled him in at the idea that his crush would tag along. So, in the end, they got the rowdy blond to yield to the stupid shopping trip.

Though could it count as a shopping trip when four out of the six in their group were so transfixed by the weird vending machines in the place? The same four that organized said gathering to begin with? They’ve yet to cross into a single store here for crying out loud.

“If all you morons are gonna do is waste your damn money on these things, then this is a complete waste of time.” Bakugou doesn’t sugarcoat his irritation in the slightest. You still try to quell the bitterness in his tone with the saccharine that saturates your own.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, lighten up,” you tease playfully, pinching a small bit of the fabric on his arm to lightly urge him forward.

“You should at least try and join in on the fun with everyone—” At the turn of your head, your sentence cuts off, astonished to come across an empty space where your quartet of friends should be.

“And they’re already gone…” you say in disbelief. Your finger initially pointed in that direction falls limp. With their speedy curiosity plowing down the line of machines, the four have effectively ditched you two, leaving no trace of where they could’ve taken off for next.

The sigh from your lips lingers in amusement. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, Bakugou.”

When your eyes meet him again, you witness the scowl he glares at the abandoned space in front of the vending machine. The leer is menacing enough that if the contraption were an actual person, they might have rattled in fear, dropping down the snacks and drinks contained inside to sate his anger.

“Um, Bakugou?” you attempt to call out to him, but he’s too fixated by the peeved thoughts strewn in his head to hear you properly.

What the fuck are those dunces thinking? They planned this, didn’t they? God, I’m going to fucking kill them all! He babbles a seething torrent in his mind. Each one is more unrelenting and harsher than the last while a vein blisters prominently on his forehead.

What were the odds that going on a little shopping trip would end up with him left behind with his crush? Well, Bakugou thinks it’s absolutely none, and that this shit had to be preordained. If not, then it was just his bad fucking luck he supposes.

“—llo, earth to Bakugou Katsuki? Please send back a reply when you receive this message.”

At last, your voice surfaces, no longer drowned in Bakugou’s turbulent sea of thoughts as the hand you wave in front of him swims its way to his attention. “Huh?” He shakes his head twice to grip himself back to the matter at hand, observing in time the playful smile that curls mischievously on your lips.

“All back together I see. Good.” You start pulling on his arm and lead him in tandem with your steps. “Now let’s get going!”

Though he quirks up an eyebrow, Bakugou, weirdly enough, does not reject the way you drag him along without waiting for his response. In fact, with the other four gone, he finds it compelling that you’re taking the reins and asks mildly, “What? Are we gonna be doing some actual shopping now?”

His joke earns him your laughter resonating in melodic lilts to his ears before you leave his side to toss your empty bottle into the recycling bin. “Nope, we’re gonna be doing something even more fun, of course!” Then you resume dragging Bakugou down the walkways of the mall.

It’s not long until he questions the consecutive twists and turns he’s forced to take, having only been answered by your pursed grin multiple times.

“Hey, no more questions! Just trust me!” you quip at his refusal to be quiet and just obediently follow. The blonde can’t help it, of course, given the circumstances he’s wound himself in. Not many boys his age can control themselves if the person they like is pulling them along with as much enthusiasm as you are right now. But Bakugou is different from those other simpletons, crafting a mask to cover the elation hidden beneath with usual displeasure. Nothing but his uncharacteristic lack of annoyance and the ample glances in your direction could truly give himself away to his affections for you.

So with that, he places a generous amount of hope that you guide him somewhere more entertaining than that borefest he witnessed from the squad earlier.

But the moment you two reach your destination, he wonders if he may have accidentally misplaced that same hope down a rabbit hole instead.

“What the…” Bakugou’s words drift in the air at the quizzical sight before him. Mouth hanging open, he’s unable to conjure any sensible thoughts in time before you step in front of him.

“Tada! The Capsule Toy Gacha Room!” You spread your hands outward to present him an unhindered view of the room. It’s teeming with small capsule toy machines that line the walls, stacked on top of each other not to waste a single space inside. His red eyes squint at the assortment of bright colors painted on each machine that assaults his vision.

“Why the hell are there so many of these things?” Bakugou asks, jabbing a finger at the machines. You reply as you walk inside, “It’s the Gacha Room, Bakugou. Of course this place is gonna be filled with them.” You impart him an answer he is not at all satisfied with.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid! Glad it hasn’t really changed,” you say, noting the only real difference between then and now were the new toys and characters updated with the current trends. He begrudgingly trails behind you into the narrow corridors sandwiched with the machines on each side. The modest little tune you hum between your lips is a stark contrast to his disgruntled huffs accompanying his dragging feet.

Bakugou thinks being here is not any different from what the other four are frolicking about outside. This might be the worse alternative, considering you give money to a machine that grants you an item at complete random. You have no way of knowing what or who you’re going to get until the colorful sphere pops out at the bottom. And then, in an instance, your anticipation fades away when you open it and receive the character no one particularly cares about—the little charm inevitably gathering dust, forgotten in the drawers of your desk. Overall, these toy capsule machines were just gluttons devouring the money of parents whose kids always whine about never getting what they wanted.

Still, because it’s you, he stays and watches you indulge in your little nostalgia trip.

As your eyes glide down the row of toy dispensers, trying your best to decipher the items contained behind the blurry glass, you chime in, “Say, Bakugou, don’t you have any memories of gacha machines?”

Bakugou’s brows furrow in contemplation. He racks through the nooks and crannies between the crevices of his mind and recalls some standout memories. “I guess. Few of ’em were stuck in front of the arcade place near my neighborhood,” he answers, but those memories immediately begin to sour the more he looks into the details.

You don’t see how his face slowly contorts with annoyance while he plays back a scene in his head.

At the time, Bakugou had only sprouted to the young age of five years old. He’s huddled around his posse in front of the arcade he mentioned, slotting a coin inside the capsule machine that was stocked full of charms of Pro Heroes, which housed a very special limited edition prize of All Might to honor their collaboration with the famous Number One of Japan.

The boy was positively giddy at what was to come out, remaining hopeful thanks to the giant poster of All Might gazing down upon him with his triumphant grin. Yet even when his squeaky little voice hollered out a “Plus Ultra!” to reinforce his luck, he was given dirt in response.

But you know who did get that mystery All Might prize?

Deku. Fucking Deku.

Right after he had his spin of the machine, the green-haired boy stepped up, gave it a go, and got All Might on his first fucking try. To say five-year-old Bakugou was bitter would only be putting it mildly. The unbridled emotions bundled in his tiny body were just waiting to burst in an explosion.

But in the end, did he fight Midoriya for it? No, he did not. For if he did, his mother would have scolded the hell out of him, and his young self reflected in the moment that avoiding parental wrath outweighed the limited edition Mystery All Might figure charm, as sad as that sounded. So since then, he’s tried to repress that memory in the far corners of his mind.

But it seems God just desires to spite him.

“Hey, look!” You pull lightly on his shirt to capture his attention, eyes trained forward at whatever piqued your interest. Bakugou peeks over your head, and what he’s met with does not please him.

“They have a gacha machine featuring Pro Heroes here!” you shout cheerfully, walking toward it with the hem of Bakugou’s shirt in hand, who begrudgingly follows along despite a groan nearly leaving his mouth.

“Isn’t this cool?” you ask. You squat down to peer into the peculiar machine located at the very bottom of the stack. Bakugou clicks his tongue as part of his reply, hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

“No.”

“Hey, one day they’ll be making toys and charms of you as well, Mister ‘I’m Gonna Be The Number One Hero,’” you say with a giggle, and your comment sparks a bit of pink to dust his cheeks while he looks down at you from his standing position.

He attempts to join you and your fixation on the Pro Hero capsule machine. However, when he starts bending his knees, he finds this to be a bit difficult. The more he squats down, the more Bakugou realizes they truly made this place for children and not bulky teenagers like him training in hero school. His knees and bottoms almost brush up against the plastic sheen of the machines on each opposing side.

Though he has to fidget into a particular position to get somewhat comfortable, he eventually gets there and kneels next to you.

“Why don’t we give a go at this thing?” you suggest, and he tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

“No way, these are a fucking waste of money,” he rejects.

“Hey it only costs two hundred yen!” you counter, “And plus, you might get a certain hero you want, like say... All Might?” You attempt to lure him in using his idol’s very name, but Bakugou doesn’t take the bait so easily and remains rigid in his stance.

Even if he did want to try for All Might, he’s sure his capsule is long gone by now anyway.

“Aw c’mon, Bakugou, pleaseee?” you draw out your pleas in a cute little tone that takes the blond by complete surprise. Unaware of how much power you have over him, the doe eyes and pout that paint your features make it difficult for him to maintain his hardened facade. Feeling his walls begin to melt away at the endearing sight, he ultimately grits his teeth, eyes shut as his hands rummage down into his pockets.

“Fine,” he mutters in defeat, and that smile appears on your lips once again as you lift your arms in triumph.

Pulling out two separate hundred yen coins, he promptly slides them both into the coin silt. When he hears them clank against the other change inside, he goes for the handle and gives it a quick turn. One of the capsule balls begins its journey down the machine and quickly arrives at the hatch that Bakugou lifts to retrieve his prize.

Snapping the capsule open, he’s met with Endeavor’s ugly mug, seeming even more unsightly from the low-quality production of the charm. The paint job is beyond sloppy, with the colors on the costume not depicted accurately and the figure’s pupils drawn to make him appear cross-eyed.

“Hm, you got the number one hero,” you tease, lightheartedly nudging your elbow at his sides because you know full well it isn’t the number one hero he wanted. Bakugou ignores your taunts and shoves the flame hero’s plastic face down the depths of his pockets, making sure to give it to Todoroki later just to annoy him.

“Yeah yeah, your turn, princess.” He scooches a bit to his right to let you have your go. You gladly follow, taking out the two hundred yen from your money pouch.

Bakugou remains disinterested throughout the entire process but is still attentive enough to observe how you hum those casual tunes of yours despite doing something so mundane. He also starts absorbing the cute shape of your nose and the outline of your lips from this angle. It isn’t long until he realizes how close you are in this position, to the point where he could practically smell your fragrant scent, and soon that pink hue diffuses on his face again.

Fuck, I need to stop that, he urges.

By the time he turns away, the capsule machine has begun its machinations once again.

The sizable sphere descending the hatch this time has striped patterns of red, yellow, and blue, colors that remind him all too much of a certain Pro Hero— Wait. What the fuck—

“This one looks a bit bigger than the others, don’t you think? Wonder what... Oh, hey, it’s All Might!” You go through the emotions—curiosity, anticipation, and then finally, glee.

Bakugou feels like he’s reliving those horrible memories once again as he beholds the shiny, miniature figure nestling in your palms before you lift it to grant a better view of its glory. It twists around from how you pinch it by the attached string while it’s hovering in the air. When the Pro Hero’s face turns in the blond’s direction, it’s like the inanimate object is somehow taunting him.

Compared to Endeavor’s shitty charm, All Might’s is a proper representation of who he is. The better quality plastic molded accurately into the man’s figure, the crevices between his muscles delved into displaying his well-defined physique. The colors on his costume are all correctly painted in his signature red, white, yellow, and blue. They even got the broad grin and shadowy features on his face to the tee.

Whichever company created this toy indeed did All Might justice because it looks exactly like the one Midoriya unsealed right in front of his envious five-year-old eyes.

Bakugou’s body shakes with suppressed anger. His hands clench and then unclench themselves while in conflict with his thoughts. Then, he suddenly moves toward you, darting for the charm that you narrowly pull out from his grapples in time.

“L-Lemme see!” he demands, shifting his hand around to grab hold of it for some reason. The act has you befuddled while you continue to move the toy away to evade capture.

“Huh? Why?”

“I need... to fucking make sure— OOF—”

His sputters are the last things that escape his lips before he staggers off balance due to all those hasty movements. It sends his body toppling over yours onto the floor, where your head would’ve thumped against the hard ground had the boy’s well-trained instincts not maneuvered a hand beneath it in time to cushion your fall.

Your descent to the floor is not at all graceful, wincing slightly at the impact. It’s when the pain ebbs away that you and Bakugou finally realize the very awkward position you’re suddenly both in.

Bakugou is hovering over you, body between your legs as one of his hands is cradling your head. The other is situated next to your face against the ground to keep himself upright, letting his eyes stare down at your stricken expression.

Unknowingly, you had settled your hand on Bakugou’s shoulder out of impulse during fall. The other one is still grasping the All Might figure, which is unharmed despite the abrupt movements.

Bakugou can feel your even breaths caress his lips from how close in proximity both of your faces are in this position. If any of you so much as move the wrong way, your lips would undoubtedly collide into each other. Though Bakugou doesn’t mind the notion, he isn’t going to instigate it if you aren’t willing. But the way your eyes line toward his lips, giving him a similar enamored look to the one he has right now, it seems both of you are on the same page.

Taking your mutual fixations as the sign to continue, Bakugou draws himself forward to close the distance while you rise to meet him in the middle.

And finally, he gets to kiss those lips of yours. The lips that adorn your cute face he always snuck glances at. The lips so unhinged in their playful teasing toward him. The lips he’s been so mesmerized and bewitched by throughout this chaotic excuse of a shopping trip.

And when they meet, they’re as full and soft as he imagined them to be, melding perfectly against his.

The hand he’s nestled under your head allows him to press you further into the liplock. You’re nearly enveloped in his wistful machinations, wanting to drown in the sea of his affections as your arms find their way around him.

You would’ve allowed yourself to do so, if not for the unfortunate security camera you catch in the corner of your eye from where you laid.

Your eyes widen, staggering out of their half-liddedness. You pat your hand in rapid succession against his shoulder, getting the blond to stir and separate from the kiss—an act he detests as he doesn’t want the embrace to end.

“What?” he gruffs. You point up at the ceiling, and he turns in that direction. When he detects the security camera about to automatically shift toward this particular side of the Capsule Toy Gacha Room, his face grows full of panic. He lifts himself off your body immediately.

With the two of you remembering where you are, you rose from the ground and cleaned yourselves up. You try to appear pristine as possible, without letting any suspicion about what has happened get tossed in your direction. Still, the red faces plastering both of your features are already a dead giveaway.

“I… Uh…” Bakugou’s still lost in the haze of the heated moment, unsure of what words he should utter. Much to his relief, his burden lifts when two notifications from your phones ring in sync together, diverting your attention.

When you open your phone and slide across the notice, a text message from the Bakusquad ascends onto the screen.

Mina: heyyyy just finished going through all these vending machines! you wont believe how much money we spent!!

The message follows a selfie of the four holding a myriad of drinks and snacks together in the picture. You can’t suppress your giggle at the endearing sight. Another chime sounds when a new text pops up at the bottom.

Eijirou: let’s all meet up again at that blue mystery vending machine!

“Well, you heard them,” you say while clicking off your phone, “we better get a move on.”

Bakugou relays your words back in a slow nod, following through with a rough “yeah” that cleaves his throat. The two of you walk alongside each other once again while you leave the Capsule Toy Gacha Room. Only your steps padding against the mall’s confounds accompany the quiet atmosphere established between you two—awkward and a bit unnerving.

It’s when you’ve both made it to the meet-up spot in front of the blue vending machine that you alleviate yourselves of the strained tension.

“Soooo… was there any reason you wanted to get your hand on this thing so badly?” you question, drawing out the All Might charm that led those heated events to transpire. It dangles between your fingertips and glances at Bakugou along every rotation. The blonde bounces his eyes between you, All Might, and the ground, unsure if he should admit that he was acting out of childish jealousy and bitterness.

“I… Urgh… Fuck…”

You raise an eyebrow when he fumbles with his words. He mutters blatant obscenities between every possible resolve that crosses his mind.

“Look, forget it. It’s not important,” Bakugou concludes, but you think differently, not satisfied with his answer.

“No. Tell me.”

With that weight in your tone, Bakugou realizes he can’t avoid the subject any longer. He releases a long sigh as he leads you through the infamous tale, observing how your expression grows from concerned to downright amused.

“Really? You’ve held a grudge for that long?” The laughter you initially attempt to suppress ends up bubbling from your throat. Hearing it spurs Bakugou to clutch his hands together into shaky fists.

“Look. If you know me, then you should remember I never want to lose to fucking Deku. The fact he got the All Might charm right after I got garbage fucking pissed me off!” he exclaims loud enough for his harsh words to reach a couple walking by. They spare worried glances at the blonde when they stroll past him.

“Hmm…” you muse in thought. Bakugou can tell by the glint rising in your eyes and your tone that you’re up to something again. “I can give you mine if you want. But only for a very small price.”

He quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what would that fucking price be?”

The smirk prominent on your pretty lips widens while you teeter your weight to your tippy-toes in front of him.

“A date. Just a single date will suffice,” you tell him, and Bakugou’s caught off guard by how simple the offer is. His delayed response has you leaning forward, appraising him for an answer.

“Well..?” You wave the charm before his eyes by the thin string as if to hypnotize him. But in all honesty, Bakugou knows that sweet smile of yours and luster in your eyes is all you need to have him wrapped around your finger.

His playful smirk surfaces his lips. He provides his answer by snatching the figure right from your dainty fingertips.

“You got yourself a deal, princess.”

You happily clap your hands together. “It’s settled then! We’ll have a date here at the mall next week!”

“Hah?! Why the fucking mall again?!”

“Because we didn’t do much here anyway, so I say we should give it another shot together next week!”

“What? And go shopping? I don’t wanna be your bellboy the entire time—”

“Mom! Mom! Look at that boy’s All Might toy!”

You and Bakugou are both surprised by the new, high-pitched voice that enters in the middle of your riffraff. Your eyes trail along to sound and come face-to-face with a young boy staring at the toy in Bakugou’s hand.

“I want one too!”

Unable to control his gloating, Bakugou dangles the charm next to his face.

“Yeah well, too bad, kid. It’s mine so f—”

“Bakugou,” you warn. You halt the obscene words from entering the boy’s ears and avoid giving his mom a hard time.

“Argh… I mean... scram!”

You almost smack yourself. You can’t believe Bakugou has the guile to argue with a child at this age.

Though he forgoes the curses, that doesn’t make Bakugou’s words sound any less harsh. As a result, the kid pouts. He pouts hard. His eyes start to become glassy, lining the edge of his lashes with droplets. Recognizing her child on the verge of breaking out into tears, the mom acts quickly. She’s by his side, patting his back.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go to that blue vending machine over there and see if you can get a toy too,” she cheers him up instantly, dropping a hundred yen coin down her son’s small palm.

“Okay, mom!” he responds, gleeful again.

He dawdles over to the machine with purpose in his steps, inserting the coin, and pressing the lone button on the mystery vending machine.

You and Bakugou don’t perceive any noise emitting from the machine, and yet the little boy is putting his hands into the slot to pull something out.

“Mom, why did the machine give me a paper that says PS5?”

Both of you go rigid. Kaminari is not going to be happy hearing about this.

[writer-akihiko]

Chapter 8 - Pasts [STARISH]

This chapter is tagged [#spoilers for days] due to some content containing spoilers from the Utapri games.

Chapter 9 →

Otoya Ittoki

He had brought you to a special place as a symbol of your first date. The building looked like some sort of kindergarten, with the many children playing outside.

"Otoyan!" A little girl called. The children looked at your boyfriend, all having wide eyes of joy.

"Hey guys!" Otoya did a childish pose for them. He brought your hand in his, introducing you to the children.

"This is my darling YN! Everyone, please be nice with her!" He said, hugging you.

"Otoyan was supposed to marry me!" A girl with pigtails said.

Another little boy took her hand. "You can marry me instead!"

"Alright!"

You giggled at the cuteness.

Once the children dispersed, Otoya told you about the place, "This orphanage was where I grew up in. It's a special place to me..."

"Otoya..."

"And now, you're the special one in my life."

Masato Hijirikawa

You carried your duffel bag on your shoulder, walking to Masato's room. The crack in door shone the light in, but Masato's voice from the room was not comforting.

He was speaking in a low tone, sounding almost fierce. You've heard stern in games, but this was deathly fierce.

"YN?" Masato put his phone down, seeing you at the crack of his door. "Did... Did you overhear me?"

You walked in, setting your bag down. "I didn't pay attention... You were kinda fierce..."

He held his head down. "It's..."

You motioned him to sit on his bed next to you. You held him, letting his head lean on your shoulders. "Now you can tell me."

"It's my father," He said. "He pressures me. I wasn't supposed to be an idol. He laid out my life for me as a businessman. We made a deal... I would stay here for a year and then take over his business..."

You jolted up, forcing Masato's body to fall into your lap. "You... You're kidding right?"

"What?" He got up in confusion.

You hugged Masato, laughing. "Who knew we'd be in the same situation?!"

"Wait... so youー"

"Mama always wanted me to take charge of her bridal company," You explained. "My Papa didn't care; he taught me basketball. I made a deal that if I win the nationals, then I could stay in the Academy."

He brushed your hair with his fingers, bringing you in closer. "Looks like we're in this together..." He smiled, his eyes poignant in thought. "Has your mother ever gone to one of your games?"

"Nope. Your dad?"

"Never."

Natsuki Shinomiya

After an eventful baking 'class' ー which consisted of throwing flour at each other ー you cleaned up the bowls and spatulas. You set the timer on the oven, hanging your favourite apron up.

As you were wiping the counter, you noticed that Natsuki's glasses were on the counter. Did he leave them when he was washing his face? You did throw a handful of flour on his face...

You wanted to go check up on Natsuki just in case he needed his glasses.

Eh?

Why was the door locked?

"Natsuki?"

BAM!

"H-Hey... What's going on?"

The door swung open. There Natsuki stood, looking truly pissed.

"Natsuー"

"Stop calling me that! The name's Satsuki. And you..." He panted. "Have to break up with Natsuki."

"What?!"

"Oh honey... He didn't tell you?" He cooed, stepping closer to you. "I'm the beast living inside of him. You thought he was all innocent and sweet. Oh no darling... there's two sides of a coin."

"Why should that matter?!" You said in outrage.

"What?"

You repeated yourself. "Why does having another side of him make any difference? I still love him the way that he is!"

He scoffed, cornering you. In general Natsuki was soft with you but now 'Satsuki' was intimidating you.

"You're just after his talent. A gold digger, aren't you? Dating an idol sure makes youー Hmph!"

You killed him full on the face, wrapping your arms around his neck. You brought him in deeper, bringing your face closer. You sneakily slipped his glasses on at the sly movement of your wrist.

Natsuki now pulled away.

"YN... you taste sweet..."

You turned red. "Natsuki! Stop!"

"Didn't YN-chan kiss me first?" He smiled.

You shook off the embarrassment and asked Natsuki. "Natsuki... Can you explain what Satsuki meant by 'just after his talent'?"

His expression fell. He hugged you tightly to his chest. "I liked my former teacher so much that I made a song her. Then she became famous because of that song. Satsuki just thinks you're trying use me... but... I love you YN... Don't break up with me..."

"You know what he says?"

He nods. "Ever since I dated you, we could hear each other at times... YN, did I scare you?"

You kissed his cheek tenderly. "I could never and will never."

Ren Jinguji

He had invited you over to your next date at his house, since he claimed he 'wanted to show you his charismatic side'. When you entered the house, the main butler had told you that Ren was not back from his modelling appointment.

You decided to explore Ren's home by yourself. You walked around silently until you came across a family portrait of the Jinguji family. In the centre was a supposed younger Ren on his mother's lap as his two brothers stood by his mother, one on each side. His father stood proudly, holding the shoulder of his wife.

"It looks like my fairy decided to magically appear in my humble abode," Ren whispered into your ear.

"Ren!" You pushed his body away only for him to trap you in his arms.

He smiled and let you go. He then turned to the painting of the wall and his expression stiffened. "YN... Who took you here?"

"I wandered on my own," You replied curtly, uneasy about how forward he was. Sure, you are often frank but for Ren to do so is a little strange.

"Let's go to the gardens," Ren took you by the hand. "It was rude of me to leave you alone and to come late to our date as well."

You shrugged it off. "I did not mind... I was examining the regal decor of your home."

He tighten his hand slightly. "Were you intrigued by the family portrait?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you of it in the garden."

~○~

You and Ren had tea together at the gazebo in the gardens. You gave time for Ren to muster up his courage, not pressing on the matter.

"You must be wondering where the lady of the house is," He said. You nodded, your eyes sparkling in curiosity.

"Well she's sitting across from me with such magical eyes..." He winked. You simply gave him a hard stare at his comment.

He chuckled, then took your hand in his. "The lady of the house ー my mother ー passed away. As well as my father," He explained. "When my mother passed away, my father got rid of anything related to her... My brother finally put up the one family portrait we had after his passing."

"Your mother is incredibly beautiful... I wish I had met mine..." You earnestly told him. "My birth mother passed away after I was born."

He took your hand and kissed it. "She would be proud to have a daughter like you."

Cecil Aijima

The two had nothing much behind your pasts that would shock the other in all honesty. It didn't surprise you that he was a prince, especially with the way he acts.

The main reason was Cecil being so honest with you. You had mentioned one thing to Cecil which you think he didn't understand. It was the fact your family was a yakuza group.

You were inspired to pursue theatre by your cousin, who currently is doing acting in Mankai Theatre.

Cecil unfortunately found out when bodyguards tailing you two nabbed him and interrogated him. Much less to say, there was nothing tragic in the past to harm your relationship. Well... with the exception of your cousin.

Syo Kurusu

He confessed his past in an... unexpected way. Your family called him to confess his past ー with several spears at his neck ー which he complied with.

"I have a twin brother, mother and father. My mother is an orchestra conductor and my father is a stylist. I was born with a heart condition andー" He panicked as the blade reached closer. "I will give YN no harm; please let me go." He pleaded.

"Grandpa, please let him go. He does no harm..." You said, on your knees. "Syo even swore to wait for me."

"Release him."

After comforting Syo, he swore to never break his promise. "I won't let them kill you," You told him.

Tokiya Ichinose

You had asked Tokiya to assist you in cleaning your room since you were moving dorms. As you cleaned through your closet, Tokiya took off the photos that hung on your wall. One particular photo was of you sitting in the middle of many men.

"Are these your relatives?" He asked.

"My brothers..." You said. "There's 10 of them."

He seemed surprised. "I hope I meet them someday... How did your mother manage that?"

You shook your head. "They're my foster brothers. Actually, we're all adopted. My dads adopted all of us from the streets separately."

"I'm sorry to say..." He said. "Please stop me if I'm getting too deep. Did you know your parents?"

You shook your head again. "I'm a dumpster baby. I was probably the product of some one-night stand gone wrong."

Seeing you solemn, he expressed his own thoughts. "I know how it feels to not be wanted to say the least. My parents divorced and they never supported my idol career."

You were shocked. "You're pretty good though at the whole idol thing." You remembered those times watching Tokiya practice.

"You're a pretty good mangaka yourself," He said. "I hope I meet the respectful men who raised you."

You smiled. "Alright! These boxes won't move themselves!"

Chapter 9 →

[levihan-drabbles]

Hey guys !!! I hope everyone in this wonderful fandom is doing amazing <3 Recently, my friend and I have come up with a very interesting and fun event that we're hoping you all would like to participate in. We haven't really seen surprise prompts and drabble weeks for Levihan before, so we decided to make one! Also a very fun contest with cool awards too.

Getting straight to the point, the reason why this event is different from an usual prompt week is because we are only going to be focusing on drabbles here. (And also because the prompts won't be predetermined and given to you beforehand)

(Note: this is also open to artists and other content creators. We will be making another post tomorrow explaining how the event works for them. Till then, the writers can continue)

✒ A drabble is a short work of fiction of precisely one hundred words in length. The purpose of the drabble is brevity, testing the author's ability to express interesting and meaningful ideas in a confined space. (YeS I stole it from google)

As a writer myself, due to the limited word limit, drabbles can be a bit of a struggle sometimes, and that is primarily the reason why this whole event is also somewhat more of a writing practice (other than the fact that we need to get those numbers on AO3 up haha)

Without wasting much time, let's get straight into the details, and how this is really going to work, what are surprise prompts and the contest and its awards of course.

▶ How long are your entries really supposed to be? Well Google says 100 words but that's way too unfair so your fic should be = to or under 1000 words. The maximum you can go up to is 1500.

▶ Are there any certain prompts/themes these drabbles should be on? Yes, and that's what we are going to talk about next.

▶ And what are surprise prompts? Okay so remember back when in school, your annoying math teacher would take a surprise quiz out of nowhere without informing you? Yeah something like that but its not that bad. Also, its a lot more fun than math.

Basically your prompts will be given to you a day before you need to post them. so its really just a writing practice and there is no pressure, so don't think about the quality or something. This is about scribbling down something quick without a lot of planning.

The prompts are also going to be chosen from an OTP prompt generator, so they are going to be uhm interesting and fun to work.

We have a theme for each day (like angst, fluff etc) and the mods will choose 4 random prompts beforehand for each of these days. At the time of giving the prompts to the participants, we will run a machine to choose one randomly out of the 4. So even the mods don't know what the actual prompt is going to be for the day.

The themes for each day (except Wednesdays and Thursdays, we will get to them later)

Angst Mondays

Trope Tuesdays

Fluff Fridays

Comic Saturdays (this is for the artists, so you can ignore it)

Smut Sundays

Now, here's the challenge (and probably my favorite part about the event) -- The prompts you get are not exclusively going to be in accordance with the themes for each day.

For example, you can definitely get this for Angst Mondays :

Prompt : "Levi having to rescue Hange from a pack of kittens/puppies."

Now its up to you, with the power of levihan on your side, to write an angsty drabble based on this prompt, (okay fine, the prompts probably won't be this off bat but still)

**Exception, : for trope Tuesdays, you won't be getting a prompt but a particular trope like (enemies to lovers, protective levi, caring hange etc)

▶ What time will you exactly get the prompt then? So basically, if Levihan drabble week begins on Tuesday, 25th May, you will getting your trope (prompt for the other days) around Monday afternoon-ish. And you are allowed to post until Tuesday midnight, before Wednesday begins. (Wednesday and Thursday are contest days which we will talk about later, so you don't have to worry about getting another prompt on Tuesday and finishing it on Wednesday itself)

▶How will you get your prompt? And any other details? We'll be making another post later where we will dive deep into the timezone specifics and how you will get the prompt, and what you will tag your posts with so we can see your stuff and reblog it.

You will get the prompt for fluff Friday around Thursday afternoon, and then the writers will have a break as Saturday is for artists. Friday night, you will get the prompt for smut Sunday you will have Saturday as a break in between before posting your smut on Sunday.

The same formula applies to angst Mondays.

1st June, Tuesday, last day of the week will be the prize day. We are gonna talk about the prize day in the next section.

Wednesday and Thursdays (The contest days)

So, first of all, this is optional. If you are participating in the rest of the drabble week, its okay if you leave to opt out of the contest. Similarly, you can also just participate in the contest and not do the other days. It's up to you.

The people participating in the contest would be divided into two groups. There are going to be two winners.

Suppose we have group 1 and group 2, a random participant from each group will be chosen. This chosen participant is called the selector. Its purely luck and a machine that chooses the selector. The selector gets to choose a prompt (from a list the mods will give them) Suppose the said selector is from group 1, then the prompt they chose will be given to group two, and everyone in group two have to write on that. The selector from group two will do the same thing for group 1 members.

All of the preparation for the contest will be done beforehand, and the selectors will be informed before the week begins. The selected prompts will be given to both groups Tuesday night. By Thursday evening their works should be posted.

The word limit for Contest Drabbles can be extended to 3000 words. This is ONLY for the contest.

After all works are submitted by Thursday evening, there will be a voting period which will stretch till 1st June, Tuesday. During this period, group 1 will read group 2's stuff, and group 2 will do the same for group 1. Then they will vote for their favorite fics accordingly, the fic with the maximum votes from both groups wins. The mods will be supervising this, and reading the stuff too.

▶How do we vote? All the details related to voting will also be explained in a different post.

▶What are the awards? Okay, so one thing unique about drabble week is that there are going to be no permanent mods. We will probably have these events rather frequently, and the mods will change for each event. The mods will decide the awards so different awards for different months.

This month, the gifts are :

Well detailed and long comments on 2 chapters of a fic of your choice. These can also be two different one shots if you want.

Beta reading for a few (3-4 chapters) for any fic the winner wants (the other details can be discussed in dms)

The winners will have the opportunity/chance to become mods for the next week, next month. This is also a great way to make new friends and work with them while holding an event!

To participate, PLEASE FILL OUT THIS FORM. The last date to fill in is 20th May, so do it before that. We'll be making another post for the artists soon, posting it tomorrow most likely. You will be constantly updated, so don't worry!

if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask. Thank you so much, we will be looking forward for your participation! Much love.

[morizoras-cave]

Paper Bag (Request)

MCU Cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: Hope i am not bothering you but can i request one of avengers cast x teen!reader,where the reader gets acne and they think their ugly so they put a paperbag over their face but the cast notices and they ask them what's wrong and the reader removes their bag and say that they are ugly but the cast is like its normal to have it and you're beautiful.

Warnings: insecurity, self hatred, body hate, language

(A/N): berlin was AWESOME. i slept the ENTIRETY of yesterday so today i will post as well as tomorrow and monday too! enjoy the fics (hopefully) :D

You’d been in Marvel movies as a returning character for years. Your character was growing up, just as you were, and you loved every moment spent with the cast. They’d known you since you were about 6, and your bond with them was as real as could be. 

Knowing them all for so long, you’d been able to tell them most of your problems. The early problems with fame, love troubles, friendship drama, and general weird thinking about the world. They had in many ways raised you. 

But there was one thing - something that brought such a dark shadow of shame over you, so maddening and humiliating you’d never ever told them. You were insecure about how you looked.

It was ridiculous. I mean, you’d always kind of disliked your body type, and as you grew, you wished you had certain other features. Some of the insecurity came with fame, but the root of it just always seemed to have been there. 

That’s why when you looked in the mirror to see your first pimple, your reaction was not as simple as being bummed out. You felt disgusting. So disgusting, in fact, you stayed in your trailer and cried and cried and cried, and eventually covered your mirrors, because the reflection you saw was an evil taunt. It told you that you were ugly. 

But the mirrors being covered didn’t help. You couldn’t feel comfortable with the cast anymore, not knowing a bright red pimple adorned your usually untouched forehead. Not knowing you looked so stupid. Your mood was ruined, and your reflection was seemingly everywhere to bully you.

It reflected you on smooth surfaces, like counters and shelves, in glass and in bathroom mirrors. You cried each time you were reminded of your frank ugliness. It only worsened when you got several more pimples, and you felt yourself scrambling to fix everything, to stop the taunting that was so constant in your brain. 

The moment you pulled the paper bag over your head, it stopped. You were anonymous again. No fame, no beauty, no ugliness. Anonymity was a superpower. 

The first time you wore it, you only wore it at home, and then struggled the rest of the day with your crippling self hatred. After two days of this, you couldn’t resist it. Wearing it to work. You knew it looked weird, but you just wanted so, so desperately to feel comfortable again. 

“Woah, who’s that?” Anthony asked as you walked onto set that morning, paper bag resting on your shoulders, and three holes (two eyes, one mouth) cut into it. 

“It’s me,” you said curtly. It was a fair group of people you had accidentally run into. Anthony, Scarlett, Sebastian, Chris (Evans), and Elizabeth sat in the break room where you were trying to get some coffee in. You wanted to avoid everyone as long as possible. You knew your actions would raise questions (questions you really did not want to answer), so you’d planned to not speak to anyone outside of the filming. You would take it off in front of the camera, and then grab it as soon as possible, to minimise the agony and self hatred that had caused it in the first place. 

“Y/n? Why are you wearing a paper bag?” Scarlett’s joking tone signalled she (and probably the others too) thought it was a joke of sorts. A prank, maybe. You ignored her question and put a mug beneath the dispenser, pressing a couple of buttons. Coffee was dispensed. You waited silently. 

“Are you okay?” Sebastian called from the couch. 

“Yep.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. You just wanted to leave. If only wearing a paper bag everywhere was socially acceptable. 

“What’s with the paper bag, sweetheart?” Elizabeth asked worriedly. They had probably realised by now, that it was more than just a practical joke. You panicked. 

“I’m doing a.. It’s an experiment.. For school,” you lied. You went to pick up your mug, but, regretfully, you realised your hand was shaking. A lot. In fact, your entire body was shaking a little bit. They were just a little bit too close to the truth. To the shame.

You grabbed the mug and took it, backing out to exit the room, but you went to quick, hand slipping, and the mug as well as its contents spilled out onto the floor. The mug shattered and the hot, brown liquid flooded the floor. 

“Hey-” a hand found your shoulder, making you jump away and shriek. The paper bag rattled at the motion. It was Chris who’d walked up to you (very stealthily, may I add) and was now looking at you with those concerned blue eyes. “Are you okay, N/n? What’s wrong?” 

The mug was shattered. The coffee was on the floor. You had pimples on your forehead and you couldn’t stand yourself. You started crying. 

Silently crying, but visibly shaking, you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor, grasping your head through the paper bag in agony. You hated yourself. It was such a loud feeling. 

“Y/n..” you heard Chris mumble, squatting down next to you and stroking your back. The shuffling of feet came closer, until the cast was standing next to you. The paper bag rattled once more, as this time, you took it off.

“I’m so ugly. I’m so ugly, Chris, I can’t stand myself,” you sobbed, now audibly, tears running down your face and some dripping into the spilt coffee. You saw your reflection in the liquid, and shame overtook you once more. “I’m so ugly-”

“Stop. No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve got- I’ve got pimples on my face and I-” you croaked, but broke off into a sob once more. 

“Hang on, is this about pimples?” Sebastian intercepted, stepping forward. You shook your head.

“No.. Well, yeah. But it’s just.. Everything. I always hated how I looked, and I.. This just made it worse, I guess..”

“Oh, sweetie..” Scarlett mumbled, as both her and Elizabeth pulled you up form the wetted floor, and into a hug. They rubbed your back and squeezed you tight. 

“You’re such a stunning young person, N/n. In every way. And pimples! They’re the most natural thing on the planet. I had pimples, Scarlett had pimples, Sebastian, Chris, Anthony! We’ve all had it,” Elizabeth said, as your raking sobs turned to sniffles in the ladies’ warm embraces. You nodded into her shoulder. 

“Please, believe me, N/n, when I say that you’re one of the most gorgeous humans I’ve ever encountered. Inside and out,” Scarlett’s voice had never seemed as comforting as then. 

“For the record, we don’t think you’re ugly either. You’re the definition of beautiful. I’d let my kids date you. And that’s a huge compliment!” Anthony jumped in, semi-jokingly, but gaze as serious as could be.

You wheezed a laugh. The pimples, that previously had seemed as bright and glowing as Rudolph’s red nose, seemed less significant now. Actually, you realised you’d never felt as comfortable as you did then. The insecurity that had had so many ties over you, had been cut loose. You were free and floating. 

You almost felt stupid for not telling them sooner. The confidence you felt, was something you’d never gotten to experience. 

You pulled away form Elizabeth and Scarlett, smiling and wiping your eyes. 

“Thank you, guys. I’m sorry for being so dramatic,” you giggled now, face puffy and cried-out, but still you felt beautiful. 

“Hey, no. You weren’t being dramatic. You were struggling with something and we helped you. Simple as that,” Sebastian said, ruffling your hair and smiling encouragingly. 

“And don’t hesitate to tell any of us, if you feel like this again. We will jump to comfort you at any time of the day,” Chris added, patting your shoulder. You wiped your eyes once more, smiling like a dork.

“Can I get a hug?” you asked. 

They hugged you, and you felt so loved and beautiful. You truly had somewhere, you thought, that you could always tell anyone anything. You had something so incredible. You had a family. 

___________________________

Tag List:

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