#HES STILL CUTE I JUST FORGOT THE GLITTER FRECKLES

[chillingandtoxic]

Goth creek, if u even care

[elsieys-blog]

Perks of an insomnia-driven night.

Draco Malfoy x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: hi hello, this is my first draco malfoy au and I hope you get to enjoy it as much as I wrote it <3

contains: fluff, tension, cussing, insomnia, room of requirement, Draco's rings, and strangers to friends with benefits.

summary: due to another insomnia-driven night, you strolled and suddenly bumped into a particular Slytherin. He gave you a gift you would cherish forever.

———————————————————

A loud buzz from outside startled you as you curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket up to your torso to suppress the chilly weather. You couldn't keep count on how many times you've tried to close your eyes and think as if you went into a free fall in hopes of getting yourself adrift. But no. You've closed your eyes, opened it again, flat it again but it didn't help at all. You were widely awake despite the fact you hadn't eaten any chocolate at all.

You heaved a sigh before deciding to leave your bed and go on for a short walk on the dimly lit hallways. Perhaps the calmness and stillness of it would soothe you. You pushed the duvet away from your nearly naked body and slipped your slippers onto your feet. Standing up, you went over to the bathroom, did some basic hygiene before twisting the doorknob and leaving your dormitory in a swift.

God, even the Ravenclaw common room didn't look fancy anymore.

It usually does every morning to dawn. But every midnight and pass midnight? It looks like as though someone was murdered and students ought to stay hidden in their dorms.

As your quiet and soft trudges echoed the walls, only a few line of torches lighting your way, you exited the Ravenclaw common room and was now and finally outside. The hallways were now bigger and neverending, as if you had set foot into a deja Vu. A few floorboards you step creaked and so the snoring portraits on every corner and side of the wall yawns and went back to sleep.

You maintained a good slow and calm pace until you forgot to pick up your wand from your room. There was no going back now because it was a long way back. Now you had to squint your eyes so that it adjusted from the pitch black darkness.

Loud cawing from crows scare you sometimes so goosebumps prickled your skin. The only thing you could see was the dots of glitter from the sky and the shadows the oak trees casted on the ground. The shadow was formed strangely and it looks distorted so you held a deep breath, reminding myself that there was nothing to be bothered of. And that everyone was sleeping just fine.

As you walked silently, your head elbow-deep in thoughts, you didn't know you were now staring at a wall so called the Room of Requirement. The walls was approximately fifteen feet, bizarre patterns across it.

"Well, there's nothing else to go, so. . ." Your mind spoke and you closed your eyes, thinking of a plausible reason to get yourself inside. After a few seconds, you heard three faint clicks until the wall molded into a tall door. You glanced sideways before entering the room slowly.

You were met by the darkness once again, but this time it felt comforting. You walked and walked, taking in the unblemished and grubby furnitures hidden beyond the tall door. There were stacks and mounds of unused things that you felt suddenly guilty. As you roamed around without a route, a movement beside you caught you off guard and it piqued your interest. Is someone else here?

"hello?" You started, your brows furrowing as you followed the movement.

As far from your expectations, the anonymous person replied and it was a manly, cold voice. "What are you doing up in the middle of the night? Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

A shiver came across your spine. You shyly said, "aren't you supposed to be too?" You saw his shadow lurch and you took the chance to step forward.

He said, "doesn't matter why I'm here. This is my usual spot." His voice was a bit taunting and bragging.

"Well, you're hiding in the shadows so... And you're not supposed to hide if you claim this as your spot." You sternly said, keeping your gaze fixated on his moving shadow.

"I'm not hiding. Have you come to the realization that it's the dead of the night?" He sternly said.

"Yes, but— I think we should come over to the light so I can see you." You plead but you doubt he would actually do it.

"See me? Pathetic."

You sighed. "What? How about let's do it together? I'm really in the mood for some company right now."

The man was hesitant at first but he considered it. As much as he was irritated by someone invading his territory, he kind of wanted a company too. There was a strong exhale across you as he said. "Fine."

You gave an upturned smile, stepping into a small ray of light seeping through a window. The moonshine cradled your face as well as his. He stood tall and with poise in front of you with a neutral glare, looking down as if his eyes belittle you. "Better princess?"

You couldn't help but stare at his eyes. Wait- he was standing in front of you so he blocked the moonshine and you could only see his silhouette. You grabbed his sleeve and ushered him to a better angle. When you gently pushed his back on a partition, you finally got to look at his golden blue eyes, and the bits of freckles that stretched to his nose and cheekbones. His face was sculpted beautifully and even his nose shaped like a button. He was lithe and pristine. And you began to coil into a pit of fire.

"You're- Draco Malfoy?" Your voice shook.

"that's me." He smirked and it only made my headspace ablaze. "And you are?"

You were too busy admiring his features but your mind eventually rebounded. "I- Y/n- Y/n Y/l/n!"

He kept on smiling. "Oh, you!" He began to finally acknowledge your ghostly presence before. "You're the one I shared potions with on fifth year eh? The one where we got perfect scores?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Right. The only reason we got perfect grades for it was because of my skills actually. Don't forget that." He playfully said, beaming a wink at you which got your cheeks turning slightly crimson.

"Ha ha, very funny. I still helped though." You avowed.

"Mhm. But I did most of the dirty work and you just stood there, watching." He laughed and I chuckled. Fun times.

"Fine. Have it your way. I did watch instead of help. Happy?" You jeered but you couldn't help but glance at the collection of rings on his bony fingers. You went still for a moment and decided to ask the unthinkable. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"You- you have nice rings. It looks good on you." You faltered in the slightest but remained a tepid look. "Silver matches you to be honest."

"Silver?" His eyebrows rose and his voice was unbelievably sexy. "I get that a lot."

You keep on staring, checking out the patterns designed on the small ringed jewelry such as serpents and cursive letters. You didn't realize you were smiling until his fingers convulsed. "Y/n?"

You look back into his stormy eyes with embarrassment. "Oh I- I'm sorry, I was just-"

"It's obvious you really like them, don't you?"

"Well, I mean it's pretty but-"

"Would you want one?" His question was out of the blue so you nearly jolted.

Your eyes widen in full extent, the feeling of affection was set into extreme levels that you feel like you're about to explode. "Oh er- that's good thank you, but-"

"It's pretty I get it. And you seem to admire it as much as I do so ..." He paused, removing one of the glinting rings from his ring finger and held it into his palm. "Here, you can have it for me."

Your cheeks were flaming and it was intolerable. He was platonic and you never expected it from him. You sucked in a deep inhale, tongue-tied. "Oh my god, Malfoy, this was so unnecessary-"

"It's alright. Besides, I think that hand of yours need some color." He smiled tenderly, handing you the ring. His height was towering and it only made things worse for you to handle because of how the air thickens and the atmosphere suddenly getting hot.

"I d-don't know what to say." You stutter. "But thank you. Thank you so much, wow."

You got ahold of the metallic ring, inserting it on your ring finger but it didn't fit. It was expected of course. So you tried putting it on your middle finger but it was loose still. As you were about to put it on your thumb, his cold hands gripped your wrist making you halt mid-process.

"What is it-"

"Here let me help you out."

God, he was also wearing a silver glinting necklace. Now that is fucking sexy!

Draco unclasped his own necklace, putting either ends of it into the ring until it hang perfectly. When it was perfectly adjusted just how he wanted it to, he offered it to you without double thinking, a genuine grin sprawled on his handsomely face.

You were still deeply honored yet it felt... Wrong. "Draco- I really appreciate this but- it's yours and we barely even talk-"

"I don't care about that." He flawlessly said. "You remind me of someone I deeply love and... I guess this is my way of being grateful we met at this untimely night." He scoffed and you're a bit sure you saw a hint of blush on his face.

"Really?" You didn't bother asking who that person was since he probably wasn't in the mood to tell you. You were flattered by his words as you accepted his offer.

"Yes. Now take this, and wear it. I want to see your hands with my rings, Y/n." He flirtatiously spoke, giving you another wink.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous act. As you were about to out it, he stopped you once more and this time you were a bit provoked. "What is it again?"

He shrugged, and now the blush hidden in his handsome features was now displayed. It was cute seeing his pale, porcelain skin yo be tainted with a tinge of scarlet. He took the necklace into his hands and made strong and seducing type of eye contact. You nearly tripped at his look right now as he said. "Let's make this scene a bit... Romantic. And by that..." He clasped the necklace on your neck, his fingers ghosting your skin ever-so-slightly. "I get to do this to you."

You shudder, not just because of the cold weather, but because of his cold touch. It was so nice against your skin that you wanted him to do it again. You smiled and bit your lip to restrain any embarrassing words. "Draco, you're being too sweet-"

"Am I? People always like the idea of making me sound rude. It feels good I get to prove it to you that that is a lie." His hands sat ok your shoulder, the pad of his thumb caressing you pulse point between your neck and shoulder.

"I understand that. When people wanted to make you sound like a villain when truly your just trying to be genuine and basic?"

Draco grinned. "Yeah, Y/n. Something like that."

You contemplated for a moment, the tension between you building up because of how close your lips had been. It was merely an inch apart, your noses almost touching that you suddenly want to feel the saccharine taste of his lips and the soft texture pressed against yours. Maybe it would be the cure to your insomnia-driven nights. Maybe it would ease and alleviate you.

"You're pretty, you know?"

You were taken a back. You stared at his eyes still and didn't even realize his hands had dropped down to your elbows, pulling it closer to him, informing you that he wants your hands to lean on his chest—to feel how ragged his breathing had gotten just by her presence. You flinched a little and smiled.

"Oh?" Was the only word to roll out of your tongue.

"Mhm." Draco was lost in his own void, his concentration had dropped from your eyes and down to your gaped lips. "So pretty..."

Fuck...

You couldn't bear the growing impatience anymore and you knew to yourself that you had to do something about it. Something to help soften his heavy breathing. He looked tired and worn out. Fragile and about to burst. You had to do something about it quick before he breaks.

Shit!

And so you lifted your heel to match his height and pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth. For a moment Draco closed his eyes to memorize the way both your lips linked—he was awestruck. He smelled good. So good that you wanted to give another go but was frustrated enough that he didn't slam you against the wall and leave you breathless from his aggressive kisses so you just stood there and watched him remember the unsolicited peck you just gave him.

"Y/n-"

"Can I kiss you?" You abruptly said without hesitation. "Again? And this time... Better?"

Shit..

He nodded in the slightest of movement before lowering his head and both your lips met anew. There were fireworks and butterflies erupting in your stomach and all you could feel was how graceful and subtle his tongue shifted against yours and it was pure bliss. And this time, it was rougher than you thought.

a/n: AHHH! i hope you liked this one, and also PART TWO IS COMING SOON! sorry, I left y'all in a cliffhanger ;))

[fireflykaizoku]

Lari my love, my Queen, my darling may I request a scenario of Ace being a daddy to his kids 🥺🥺 please thank you so much baby girl!!! xoxo *aqua tofana*

Val mi reina, my love! thank you so much for requesting this 😭❤ it turned out pretty cute awww *aqua tofana*

Ace liked being a father, he really did, but it was much easier when you were around. When you had to travel for a week because of work, the first day went fine, but after that, it was downhill. Thankfully, you’d be home in just a day.

Your oldest daughter, Rouge, was already a teenager, and while you knew how to deal with her, your husband didn’t. To him, she was still his child who would never grow up. The younger daughter, Ann, was six, and she was an angel, and was daddy’s girl. And your youngest child was Sabo, your three year old son who spent most of his time with Ace.

— Hey, dad. — Rouge said while walking in the kitchen where her father was. — I’ll go out with my friends tonight, but I’ll be home before my curfew.

— Ah, sure! — he smiled. — Do you want me to drive you there? I’ll finish dinner and we can go.

— No, no! It’s not needed.

— Is it far from here? Don’t worry, I’ll drive you.

— Dad, my friend’s parents don’t drive them anywhere. It’s… embarrassing. — the girl rolled her eyes, heading to the door. — Bye.

Ace knew how teenagers were, he knew they don’t want to be seen around their parents and would eventually have their own lives. But it felt like it happened so fast, it felt like she having tea parties with him just yesterday. The man couldn’t help feeling a little sad, until Sabo and Ann arrived in the kitchen, showing the drawings they just made.

Before dinner, the kids asked for a candy, just one. And your husband couldn’t simply say no to their puppy faces. He also tried to make their favorite meal, which wasn’t as good as you made, but it was decent. Ann and Sabo said it was delicious! The two always made him feel better even when he wasn’t doing the best job.

They watched a few Disney movies until bedtime. This time, the two didn’t want some story from a book. Instead, they asked the story of how you and Ace met.

Just a few hours later, the raven haired man was sitting on the couch watching TV, when he heard the door open. He saw his older daughter finally arriving, just before her curfew, the young woman was very responsible after all. Rouge seemed to be drying her tears, which made Ace worry.

— What happened, baby? — he widened his eyes. — Are you hurt?

— No, dad. I’m just… Tired. I’ll go to bed. — she was about to go upstairs, but Ace wasn’t buying her excuse.

— Tell me, who do I need to hit?

The girl couldn’t help giggling a little, her father was the sweetest person, but if anyone dared to hurt one of his children or his loved ones, he would turn into a completely different person. She knew his question was no joke.

— It… Doesn’t matter. It’s alright. — her voice started to break.

— Rouge… I’ve known you since the second you were born. I know when you’re not alright. If you tell me, I promise I won’t hit anyone. I know I’m not your mom, and she probably knows how to deal with some emotions better than I do. But… I can try.

She sighed and sat on the couch next to her father, head resting on his shoulder and she started crying quietly. Ace tried to dry her tears and waited until she felt comfortable enough to open up.

— This boy I was seeing… — Ace gasped. His baby, his precious daughter was seeing a boy?! — He just… called me and dumped me. He didn’t even say it face to face!

— Give me his name and address.

— Dad, no! — she held his arm when he was about to get up. His intention was to get the car keys and have a little conversation with the boy who hurt his daughter. — Don’t get in trouble. It’s not worth it. I’m just… So sad, feeling like I can’t be loved.

Hearing this broke Ace’s heart. You and him loved her so much, even before she was born. You two took care of her, loved her, just so a guy could hurt her like this?

— You can be loved, you’re already loved. This fool just doesn’t see how amazing you are! He’ll regret his decision soon.

— You’re just saying this because you’re my dad. — she softly smiled.

— Yes, but it’s still true. And if whenever you want, I can just get baseball bat and… — the girl interrupted him.

— No need, dad. But thank you for listening.

— Besides, you’re young… You have your whole life to find the right person. It took me a while to find your mom, but it was worth the wait. So be patient, and now just… Study and don’t grow up just yet.

The next morning, Ace was asleep when the three kids entered the room, telling him to wake up and screaming “happy father’s day” while the two youngest kids jumped on the bed. Sabo was holding a little box carefully wrapped and a cute bow; Ann held a small poster they made, decorated with hearts and glitter; and Rouge brought breakfast, with some pancakes, coffee and cupcakes she probably bought this morning. Before the man could even understand what was going on, the three kept saying how he was an amazing father.

With everything that has been going on, he even forgot about the father's day, but his kids remembered. It meant so much to him.

The freckled man tried to hide his tears, but this was one of the moments where he remembered when he was growing up, thinking he couldn’t be loved, and now he has a family of his own. An amazing wife and three beautiful kids. He was a very lucky man.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Jason Todd)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part three of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself. ALSO, y'all can thank @littleredwing89 for the poem that comes up.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You tap at your phone screen, planting seeds in a satisfyingly hypnotic rhythm, the sounds of the train vacillating in and out of your periphery. It was soothing having your own compartment, a little world you can isolate yourself in while you anxiously await for the inevitable. 

It wasn’t a secret that you found Gotham stressful. It was about as much a secret as Tony Stark’s civilian identity. You pulled your knees up to your chest at the thought. Big cities were stressful but Gotham was a different beast entirely. It was a writhing monster of steel and smoke. You wrinkle your nose deciding to sweep the thought away. 

Instead, you concentrate on your plants and your farm. You wince looking at your journal. It looks like you’d forgotten another quest. Pursing your lips, you decide to turn your phone off for a bit and pretend the NPCs can sort it out on their own as you look out the window. 

You lean against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool window. You can’t help but smile to yourself thinking of a sea of black curly hair interrupted by a shock of white, sea green eye perpetually alight with mischief or intelligence (9 times out of 10, you really couldn’t tell which it was.), freckles like star map, and a mouth permanently set in a cocky grin. It’s hard not to smile like an idiot when thinking of Jason Todd.  

   Your skirt flutters in the wind as you dance your way through the crowd, bobbing up and down on your tiptoes over the sea of humans. Sometimes the smell of them still makes your mouth water but not now, not when the smell of Gotham is so pungent in the air. 

You see a gloved hand wave at you on the other side of the crowd. You pin your sunhat against your head as you rush through the crowd, your luggage dragging behind you.

Jason waves a two fingered salute at  you in front of a motorcycle, his foot clearly stomping a cigarette. You toss your hat to him. It flutters over the crowd. Jason catches it easily, putting it on his own head. 

"Hey Princess, welcome back." Jason greets, the syllables of your native French gliding off of his tongue so easily. Fighting down a blush, you swallow your own greeting. Jason would have been a great ambassador in a different life were he not inclined to murder someone with a desert spoon for being a jackass.

He offers his hat back to you, but you shake your head. "You might freckle too much in Gotham's sunny weather." He gives you a hearty chuckle keeping the hat on. 

"Missed you too, princess."

You roll your eyes. Pinching your nose, you look around. "You forgot to tell me to bring a gas mask."

"Every city smells like this."

"Darling, you've been in Gotham for too long."

"And you've been in your French villa for too long." Jason says, putting his sunglasses on you. You glare at him through them.

"First of all, it's a cottage."

Jason snorts, "As if that makes a difference. It's still in the idyllic French countryside, isn't it?"

"I-" 

"I rest my case."

You cross your arms. "You're welcome to visit, you know?" It was a hopeful suggestion at best. 

"We both know the quiet will drive me crazy."

"I said visit," you say, "besides, I think the train ride alone would drive you up the wall." You remember how Jason is with tight spaces.

"Not with you there." Jason winks.

Your heart presses a bruise into your throat and you hate Jason Peter Todd all over again. 

"Ah yes, you plan on driving me mad. Evil. Truly evil of you." You say, grinning back at him. 

"Here's a wild idea, how bout we just not listen to Roy? How does that sound?" Jason gently suggests, handing you your offensively pink cup of caffeinated goop. Jason can smell the sickening amount of sweeteners added. He might gag. 

"Nope," you say, smiling at him as you slurp your ooze. Jason's stomach rolls. Alfred would have an aneurysm. "He was even nice enough to get us both tickets." You hand him one, fingers brushing against his. They felt calloused as they always did. Jason suppresses any oncoming reaction.

He instead turns his attention to the ticket in his hands. Love Through the Ages: Gotham Museum Exhibition on expressions of love. Jason runs through the numbers. "These are $59 each."

"So sweet of him, isn't it?" You chirp adorably.

Jason makes a mental note to kill both of you. "You're only going along with this cus you want to watch me suffer." Jason says, slumping his chair. His foot kicks out to tap your foot. 

"I'm doing it affectionately," you say, tapping his foot with yours. "Besides, it's a universal pass time at this point." You swirl your drink and grin at him. It was your real grin, all bright and eager and stupidly sweet. Something in Jason's chest twists. It's always hard to breathe when you smile at him but really Jason would rather all the oxygen in the atmosphere be burned up than see your smile disappear. 

He sounds dramatic and he knows that but still he knows it's true.

"C'mon Jay, it'll be fun."

Shoulders slouched, Jason smiles at you indulgently. "Fun for who?"

"Mainly me but you can have fun too."

"You are so lucky you're adorable when you're being evil."

Your smile brightens and with a tap of his foot against yours, he thinks he'll survive whatever Roy has in store for him.

You and Jason have been walking around the museum for quite a bit with Jason's arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders and homicide radiating off of him every time someone even looks at you funny. He'd said that the arm slung around your shoulder was so that you wouldn't get lost. As for the homicide,  he elected to ignore the question entirely. 

You flush as Jason quotes another line from 'Master Valentine' back to you. You definitely regret letting him house sit. You regret even more not hiding your books. You squirm as Jason whispers the quote in your ear in a husky drawl. The erotica in the book is amazing and you're normally comfortable with talking to Jason about everything, but this- this was just cruel and unusual punishment. It's what you get for trying to make him suffer.

All the pet names he murmured in your ear crawled up your spine. You shove his face away hiding your own in your sleeve. He laughs into your hand enjoying your sudden bout of shyness.

Jason mumbles a half-hearted apology into your hand, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. You lower your head. You're still clearly avoiding his gaze but you let him press you to his side. Jason Todd is an asshole.

You point to a pair of ice skates so well worn and well loved that you almost miss the little penguins stitched on the side. "Love on the ice? That's so cute!"

Jason glances at them with mild interest. "Sounds like hypothermia." He says, shrugging. 

Swatting at his chest, you pout at him. He rolls his eyes nudging your shoulder with his. You scowl at him and stick your tongue out. Jason leans down, unable to stop the urge to press a kiss to your brow. You scowl even harder. 

"Admit it, doll. The whole exhibition is just Dickie's favorite fanfiction tropes."

"Professor Todd, be a dear and enlighten my troglodyte ass."

He snorts, "Princess, if I was a professor we both know I'd have the highest attendance rate."

"And the highest failure rate." You say cocking a brow. 

"Probably."

"You're terribly humble today."

"I just know I look good."

No, you don't, you think. You shake your head. "That explains the leather jacket."

"You love my leather jacket."

"Well, Biscuit certainly loved your previous one."

Jason wrinkled his nose thinking of the yellow disaster. "That dog was a menace."

"She is the sweetest creature on earth."

"She destroyed my jacket and ate my wallet AND phone."

"I never said she was smart... wait, we're getting off topic."

Jason narrows his eyes at you then points to a crown. It was an intricate lattice of silvers and golds with diamonds that glittered like starlight. "Royal AU," he says simply, "go on read the description."

"A prince and a princess from rival nations are bound by a marriage of convenience. Through a series of missteps. They fell for each other.... that one was pretty easy. Do it again."

He points to a blue feather. "Mythology AU."

You arch a brow at him. He waves at it, urging you to read. "A god descended to earth to be with his mortal lover only for him to lose his memories of her." The feather's glow is incandescent. You can feel the power radiating off of it, a sure sign of divinity.

Once, you would have brushed it off as mere story. You've spent more than twice your lifetime now dipped into the world of myths. You glance at Jason.  Simple divinity no longer fazes you.

"See?"

"I- Nope."

"You're just being stubborn."

"Would you have been my friend if I wasn't?" Would you have saved me if I wasn't?

You think Jason hears your unspoken question when he frowns. Instead, he turns on his heel to face the other direction. He points to a bouquet of wilted roses tied together by a green ribbon. They still smell of blood and something you couldn't identify.  Your eyes drift down curious. Your eyes trace over the words feeling your stomach tumble.

"Gruesome." Jason vocalizes inanely. He hooks his head on the crown of your head, neatly slotting your body under his. You're safe, surrounded by walls of muscle. The crease in your brow softens. You would think that Jason would be less protective after you'd turned but now that you were a vampire, he was somehow even more protective. Roy always joked you only got Biscuit and your other dogs as lap dogs because you already had Jason. He may not have been too off on his guess.

"This should be in a horror exhibit," you say leaning into Jason's chest, "kind of reminds me of you though." You tilt your head up grinning at him. 

"If you make a joke about me being jack the ripper again, I swear I'll-"

"-Bury me alive 6 feet under concrete with a recording of Roy singing Auld Lang Syne in a terrible British accent. Got it. What I meant was... you're just as protective as the man in the story." You say, smiling at him. 

For good reason, Jason thinks. 

Jason buries half of his face in your hair, hiding his answering smile. You smell like sugar and cinnamon. It's a familiar combination of smells that puts him at ease despite the atrocious amount of people in the museum.

You point to another artifact, afraid that you'd accidentally picked at an old wound. 

"Star-crossed lovers." He mumbles into your hair. 

"Bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, doll."

You read the plaque and the words 'meet' and 'different world' assault your eyes. You scowl at him. "Fuck you."

The grin on Jason's face is genuine. It makes something in your veins sing knowing how much fun he's having. 

Your face softens. "You really love this romance stuff, huh?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you.

"You were the one bawling your eyes out when we binged Spaces Between Us. Who the hell cries during erotica?"

"IT'S TRUE LOVE AND YOU KNOW IT IN YOUR SOUL," you protest, pounding your fist against his chest,"besides, you're the one who was crying nonstop when we watched the IDHY duology."

"I was crying because they were accurate book adaptations."

You blink at him confused. "There's a book?"

"Yes, you illiterate heathen."

"You sound like a conquistador."

“....”

"At least they got their happy ending." You say, changing the subject.  

"That's true."

"Still better than Titanic."

He furrows his brow at you. "What's wrong with the Titanic?"

"First of all," You pitch your shoulders like you're about to give him a lecture, "That was 3 hours of my life wasted on a shitty movie. It wasn't even that accurate."

"Princess, not everyone can survive the Arctic."

"And second, the most romantic scene in that romantic movie was the old couple staying together as they sank."

Jason laughs, a deep rumbling sound. It scrambles your brain, almost dissolving your annoyance until he opens his mouth again. "You sound like Damian."

"Jason Peter Todd, take that back." You screech, swiping at him. 

He jumps back, his laughter still echoing. "Stop sounding like the demon brat first."

You run after him, telegraphing your murderous intent. Jason walks away faster, sticking his tongue out at you. Your growl and claw at the air. You screech obscenities as Jason continues to evade you. He is having way too much fun with this. 

You chase Jason around the exhibition for a solid half hour before you come to a skittering halt.

Your eyes land on a vermillion book, leather bound and carefully crafted by skilled hands. You step closer to admire the swirling, arabesque patterns lining the leather. No title is embossed on the front.  It's thick. You would wager it was at least 400 pages.

Your eyes drift down even further, finding a  familiar scrawl. Below the book were photocopies of some of the pages. Pablo Neruda's 'If You Forget me', Beethoven's 'Immortal beloved', Ibn Hazm's 'My Heart', and a bunch of other poets you didn't know but recognized as ...

"Jason these are your favorites."

"What?" He says, walking over to you cautiously.

You look back down at the pages and your eyes catch on the one in the middle. From the numbering, it was the last.

Love is such a hard thing to define,

I don’t know if I could ever find,

The words to truly express the complexity of such an emotion.

It is an emotion felt in the heart,

Long before it makes sense to the mind,

illusive and uncertain until suddenly it just clicks.

Like so many things in this world,

we tend to know it when we see it in others,

even if we can’t be sure of it ourselves.

I think I’ve always known how much I love you,

When I look at you, 

I see everything I’ve ever wanted.

When I look at you,

I see nothing else but your perfect beauty.

Inside and out.

I'm not a poet, (Y/n), but I will tell you anyway I can how much I love you.

-Jason Peter Todd

Jason is a stone next to you.

His mouth is filled with sand as he looks at the far too familiar handwriting. He knew. He knew the moment he saw the red book what it was. Hell, the moment you told Jason it was Roy who told you to go to the museum, he knew what it was. God, why can't he just turn to ash. 

Jason can't make himself turn to you. He can't bear to see what ever disgusted expression you make. He just can't. 

He feels a tug on his sleeve. He doesn't move. He  feels another tug, this time harder. When he doesn't respond the second time, you lace your fingers in his and spin him around. 

You squish his cheeks in your hands. "Jason, you actual sap." You say. You look like you're glowing. You beam at him, all toothy and scrunched faced. Jason's lungs stop working again. His mind can't process what you're saying. All Jason knows is that something warm is crowding his chest, pushing everything else out.

"Wha?"

"Jason, you absolute dork!" You repeat, unfazed by his temporary bout of insanity.

Jason is blushing, looking like a strawberry with his freckles. Jason is more adorable than anyone has any right to be. But that's ok. That's perfectly ok cus he's yours.

In a moment of uncontained affection, you pull Jason to you, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's soft and earnest and exciting. It was a kiss Jason spent lifetimes dreaming about. It was you and completely you.

"Jay, they're beautiful." You say in a breathless laugh. 

Jason looked down at his feet. "I-" was never planning on giving it to you, he thinks. Because, why would you ever love someone like Jason? Especially, after what he'd done to you. 

As if reading his mind, you press your forehead against his. "I love you too, Jay, and you can't argue me out of it. Sorry bud, you're stuck with me."

Jason can't help the smile as it curls on his lips.

He's happy. He's so stupidly happy and he blames you.

"Plus, I already knew."

"Why didn't you say it first?" He asks, his fingers brushing against his tingling lips. 

"Cus," you say, pirouetting away from him, "you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"How-"

You put your hand up. "Trust me, Jay. I've tried before." You tilt your head back looking up at the sky light. The curtain of light fell on you like a spotlight highlighting everything ethereal about you. "Remember in Milan? When I told you I cared about you and you told me I didn't."

Jason remembered that. He was angrier back then. He snarled that to you like some wild animal and threatened to throw you out on your ass if you ever so much as spoke a word of that nonsense again. It was the first time he'd seen you look hurt. You face was wide open with shock.  Jason felt something in his chest tear at that look. He stormed off, leaving you in that room. 

When he came back, you offered him warm tea and a smile. You were quiet, inconsolably quiet.

It didn't…

He didn't…

It didn't occur to him that look in your eyes was heartbreak.

Jason curses under his breath.

You chortle at him, the mirth in your eyes incandescent.

"Yeah. Exactly." You say, clasping your hands behind your back. Jason would like to be buried six feet under with the only words carved into his gravestone 'I am so sorry (Y/n)'.

You snick seeing the look in his eyes. "Or that time in Paris. The one in the little patisserie when I told you in perfect Catalan that you meant more to me than anything else and do you remember what you told me?"

"I told you you were possessed." Jason's shoulders slump. "Please tell me you don't have a third example."

You smile at him pityingly. "I don't-"

"OH THANK FU-"

"I have 50. Well, 51 but the last one didn't count since I was joking that time."

In Jason's mind, his jaw hits the obsidian floor with an audible 'plop'. It would be loud enough that the entire museum would hear it were it real. He blinks at you. "You tried more than 10 times?"

"I was encouraged." You say shrugging.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles and you laugh. Jason's heart skips a beat but he pushes past the feeling in favor of pleading with you. "Please don't list them."

"Oh, I'm not." You hum. 

Jason sighs with relief. 

"I'm gonna leave that to Roy."

"Son of a- He knows?"

You look over your shoulder. "Yeah. Who do you think I complain to?"

"Who else knows?" He asks, trailing behind you as you walk to .... Jason doesn't know at this point and he doubts you do too. 

"Oh just your family."

"I'm surprised they haven't given me shit about it."

"Oh I bullied them into not doing it."

"Impressive." He whistles and you preen. 

"Always," you say smugly. You begin to walk a bit faster, craning your neck. "Now, let's go find out if Dickie installed that bakery I asked for." 

"That's what you're after?" Jason laughs.

"It's a noble goal." You protest. 

"You don't even need to feed."

"I need to feed my inner sweets monster. She's very fussy and is demanding crepes specifically."

Jason smiles softly at you, amused that of all the human traits you could have retained after being turned was a sweet tooth.

"Sorry to tell you doll face, Dickie still hasn't done it."

You look aghast like he'd slapped you in the face with a large baguette. 

"What?!"

"He hasn't put in your suggestion from 10 years ago."

"Where am I supposed to get my fix?"

"Are we still talking about sweets or have you moved on to cocaine?"

"Dunno, have you tried snorting sugar?"

"No. Why- Have you?"

"...my lawyer advised against answering this question."

Jason cackles. "How am I the stupid one?"

"I-" Your scowl turns sickeningly sweet. "Yanno, the third time I tried was when-"

"OK. Stop." Jason's face lights up again. "I give." 

"Pfff." You smile, looking far too pleased with yourself.

Jason straightens up, something sly passing through his eyes. You stop. The look in his eyes makes you nervous. 

"I think I know where you can get something sweet."

You swallow nervously.

Jason leans in. He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. Nothing else around you seems to exist at the moment. 

You lean in to kiss him but you freeze when you register his voice. 

“I’m taking you downtown. There’s a new bakery there and I heard the crepes were to die for.” He chuckles, turning to walk towards the exit. 

“What the hell?!” You call out falling into step with him. 

He grins down at you, arms folded behind his head. “Something wrong, princess?”

Heat rises in your cheeks and elbow him in the side. 

“I want to take you on a proper date and I sure as hell am not starting here.” He says, rubbing his side and conspicuously not looking at you.  There’s a dust of peach on his face. Your anger fades away. It gives way to a fluttering in your chest. 

“Where?”

He looks at you then, brow furrowed. 

“Why don’t I take you to the fair, princess? There’s plenty of sweet treats there that’ll tickle your fancy.”

Your mouth waters when you think about all the cotton candy they have. 

“I heard there’s a kissing booth too, so if you’re lucky,” Jason continues, winking at you. Predictably, you blanch at him. You knock your knuckles against his chest. Jason chuckles, rubbing his chest. “Sorry princess, I mean if I’m lucky enough to get a kiss from you.”

The temerity. 

The gall. 

“As long as you get me something sweet.” You huff, exiting the building. 

Jason stops on the steps, turning to you with a sly smile. Crossing your arms, you pause bracing for whatever trick is up his sleeve. Jason tilts his head. He says something but the little noises of the city make the words hard to discern. You lean closer to hear him better. Jason steps closer to close the distance, his lips warm against yours. You’re stunned. Your entire body divided on how to react, some parts stiffen while others turn to jelly. 

He pulls away, wolfish grin unwavering. "That sweet enough for you sweetheart?"

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[andtheywerecocaptains]

8 for the ways to say i love you prompts? ✨

HEGEL i did it finally. This came out sappy, unnecessarily long but hey ho. I was also slightly inspired by that one hc about Nicky keeping track of their songs during the centuries but i cannot find the actual post to save my life. 

I hope you enjoy it! I tweaked it a little bit and maybe the “unrequested” bit got lost... or did it?

send me kaysanova prompts from this list!

8. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

***********

Nile had made a huge mistake by showing Joe how to operate Tik Tok. No one other than Yusuf himself would’ve had the mental space to actually get sucked into it and enjoy every single stupid video he came across. Nicky observed from outside, as usual, a smile on his face, as usual. The enthusiasm Joe showed for the effort some of those people put in their videos was always refreshing. He used to force Nicky to watch some of them together and Nicky could not help but think that he had no idea as to what he was looking at.

Nile had taught Joe words like trends, transitions, twerk, dab, woah - and Nicky had always found himself thinking  that he could not keep up with one more language.

This is why his eyebrows were lifted up to his hairline that day when Joe asked him to try one of those trends with him. What on God’s green Earth-

“Come on love, it will be fun! We don’t have to film it, we just have to do it.”

“Amore, you know I have no idea what it is that you are talking about.”

“I will explain! Look.”

Joe had handed him a list he’d written on a piece of paper that Nicky recognised as coming from his sketch book. Not that the list had made it any easier for Nicky to understand what Joe was on about.

“I don’t understand. What am I looking at?”

“It’s a shopping list. We go out separately, we buy something for every item on the list, we come back home, we show each other what we got.”

“My favourite colour” Nicky read out, from the first item on the list “Your favourite colour?”

“Exactly! You get it. Buy something that has my favourite colour in it.”

Nicky sighed, still looking at the list like it had his death date written on it. He had to admit, though, it was a cute idea. And Joe was so excited, his eyes were literally glittering, so how could he say no to him?

***

They got back hours later within a few minutes of each other, each of them carrying a few shopping bags. Nicky observed that Joe had been way smarter than him and had chosen a shopping mall, whilst Nicky had preferred visiting smaller shops and had way more bags in comparison.

They sat at the table, on opposite sides and Joe whipped out his list, with a smile that went from ear to ear. He was way too excited. Nicky’s lips perked up in a softer smile, his chest warm with all the affection he could feel for his husband. His joy was always contagious and Nicky almost forgot how ridiculous he was feeling because of what he was doing.

This, until Joe started to read out the list.

“Okay, number one, My Favourite Colour.”

Nicky dug in one of the bags he had positioned at his feet and pulled out an incense holder, with intricate decorations that were of the exact same colour as his own eyes.

Joe’s favourite colour.

Joe, on the other hand, had chosen a very comfy-looking sweater, and Nicky couldn’t help but notice that the colour matched that of Joe’s freckles to perfection.

“Habibi, that’s perfect.” Joe commented, taking a few seconds to look at Nicky’s incense holder and then putting it on one side gently. It looked like he just could not stop smiling and Nicky wished for a second to have Joe’s ability to capture it on paper.

“Number two, My Favourite Snack.”

This had been way too easy for Nicky. Joe had tasted taralli long ago, but he hadn’t stopped asking Nicky to make them ever since. He obviously hadn’t had time to make some from scratch, but he knew a small Italian shop just a few doors down from their house and he trusted the owner enough to know that he could buy some quality food.

“Taralli! God, I love you!” Joe shouted, grabbing a hold of the box way too quickly and Nicky let out a small laugh.

It was only after having had a bite that Joe gave Nicky his favourite snack: baghrir. Obviously. Nicky’s sweet tooth was well known, especially by his husband, and Joe had been reminded about their days in Morocco and that plate of baghrir for possibly centuries. How Joe had managed to find them and purchase them – that remained a mistery.

“Number three, Something We Need in the House.”

A tricky one. For someone that moved houses so often like them, they never had managed to actually settle down and think about decorating the place. The closest they’d ever come to doing this was Malta, but it had been a few years since they’d last been.

“I had to think long and hard about this one but I think I got it.” Nicky prefaced, and took out a lava lamp from one of the bags.

Joe’s laughter exploded in the room and Nicky’s smile widened in response. He still remembered the first time Joe had seen one of those and how much time he had spent just looking at them. Nicky imagined that, scientifically speaking, they must’ve been quite the shock at the time and he was sure that he would have to stop Joe from wanting to open one up to see how it worked.

Joe stood up and reached for Nicky from the other side of the table to kiss him on the forehead. “That’s great. I love it.” he whispered, then sat back down.

Joe’s item had been a way more practical electrical razor. They had struggled quite a lot to move away from the cut-throats, especially because shaving each other using one of those was always a great experience. But finding good ones was getting harder and harder, so they’d agreed to finally get on with it and try and stay a bit more modern.

“Number four, Something I Need in My Wardrobe.”

The leather trousers landed on the table in front of Nicky even before he’d managed to register which item Joe was reading out.

“Yusuf!” Nicky exclaimed, a bit alarmed as well, but his complaints got lost in Joe’s laughter.

“Come on hayati, you’d look sublime in them and you know it.”

Joe was looking at him from across the table as if he was ready to jump up, grab him by his waist and carry him to bed that very moment. Nicky’s eyes kept going from Joe’s face to the trousers and then back up on Joe. A millennium spent alive and together meant that all the issues about themselves and their bodies had been washed away, but Joe always made sure to never stop reminding Nicky how beautiful he was and, in this very instance, how good his butt looked all the time.

Nicky gave Joe one last look, the corner of his own lips slightly lifted in an expression that clearly said “alright, fine” and put the trousers away.

“I cheated on this one.” Nicky announced and left the room for a second, coming back with a long blue scarf.

“I’ve been knitting this for a while now. Was about to let you have it, but then I thought I could use it as my item.” he explained, then sat back down and passed the scarf to Joe.

Joe buried his face in it, felt the softness against his skin and closed his eyes in bliss for a few seconds. Nicky loved absolutely every single thing Joe did, but that expression was definitely in the top ten list. Especially as a reaction to one of his gifts.

“I love it. Sorry, I keep saying ‘I love it’ to every single item you’ve brought, but I actually do.” Joe laughed again and Nicky shook his head gently, still smiling.

“Okay, last one. Something I Need.”

This was the one that had taken Nicky the longest out of all the items. What does someone who’s lived forever need? They had bought and tried everything in their lifetimes. Plus, if anything came up that one of them thought the other needed, they just bought it for each other. They had stopped birthdays a long time ago – there was no need for immortal beings to celebrate their life for just one day. They already did that, together, constantly.

“I think you need me in those trousers.” Nicky said and Joe nodded his head animatedly “But I also think you need this.” He put a CD in front of Joe, causing him to look at it with a huge question mark written on his face.

“Turn it around.” Nicky encouraged him, and Joe did so, in order to be able to read the list of songs Nicky had burned into it – with Nile’s help, obviously.

“Are these-”

“All our songs, yes. The ones I could find.”

Joe had the lovely habit to point out songs every once in a while, and say “Listen, Nicky! It’s our song!” with a huge smile on his face. This had happened numerous times during the centuries and the list had been growing and growing. The lyrics and the music had changed with time, but the sentiment was always the same and it had warmed Nicky’s heart every single time.

What Joe didn’t know, though, is that Nicky had kept track of all the songs he had marked as “our song”.

“Nicolò…”

Nicky could tell Joe’s voice had cracked a little bit when saying his name and couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s nothing major.”

“Are you joking?” Joe had complained, looking at him with a frown, lifting the CD as if he was showing him how important that gift actually was. It was then that Nicky could see that his eyes has filled up with tears as well.

“Oh, amore.” Nicky whispered and got up. He was still smiling, and walked around the table in order to reach Joe, who in the meantime had got up so that he could meet him and hug him, burrowing his face against Nicky’s neck.

Nicky tangled his fingers in Joe’s curls, kissing him just above his ear.

“I still need my gift, you know.” he whispered again so that Joe could hear him.

“I think-” Joe answered after a few seconds, reaching for his back pocket and pulling out a small velvety box, bringing it up in between the two of them without letting go of Nicky with his other arm. He opened by pushing down on one side, revealing a ring, very similar to the ones Joe was already wearing.

“I think you need to marry me again.”

[nicostolemybones]

A prom date, you and I?

A collaboration for the @solangeloweek Spring Ball between me and my partner, @sanderssideburns so this is short but sweet and super super full of love. He writes as Will and I write as Nico for this!

-

Will stood trembling with excitement. His heart reminding him with every loud thump that it was the day he has been impatiently waiting for. He felt jittery and anxious as he straightened his tie, face all flushed and smile stretched from one ear to the other.

Prom day.

The one day of the school year where everyone came together collectively to enjoy a night with their friends and dates. The one day Will refused to be fearful of homophobic remarks hushed in not so friendly tones because today was the day Will got to scream from the rooftops that his date was Nico Di Angelo.

Nico was the only truth in Will's life, the only constant. The only person that would make him feel better without fail. No matter what, the one thing Will knew for sure, is that Nico was home. Will loved him. Will never wanted to be without a home again.

His blue eyes peered back at him from the window hanging over his sink, showing him just how nervous he really was. Will didn't want to be nervous but he couldn't help. Too many times in his life good things turned bad but... No, he willed the thoughts away and focused on Nico. Nico was excited for today and Will was excited to spend today with Nico. He would never let a few anxious thoughts keep him from having the best date with the love of his life.

With that Will smiles, leaning in closer to the mirror, and starts dotting the concealer on any of his blemishes. He wants to look perfect, he wants to feel confident, so he wouldn't have any worries while he held Nico close and whispered how much he loves him into his ear while they dance.

He can't wait to dance with Nico, arms holding his boyfriends hips as they sway around the dance floor. The rest of the world shrinking away as they float around on cloud nine. As they drift in each other's arms safely.

Will looks at his pink suit and smiles, noticing how it brings out his natural blush, and it makes him blush darker. He knows Nico is going to love how he looks, he knows that Nico is going to look amazing too. Nico always looks amazing. He flushes a bright red just imagining Nico in his black suit, his undershirt matching Will's suit. Will looks at his own undershirt, black, matching Nico. He loves that. 

He loves that they feel safe together, comfortable with matching their prom outfits. It's pretty cheesy but the thought alone makes Will's nerves settle. Nico is choosing to be seen with him, he wants to be seen with him and isn't trying to hide it. He knows Nico will protect him and he knows he would do anything to protect Nico.

He doesn't need to worry, they'll be safe. 

Nico always protects him, sometimes without even realizing. All Nico has to do is smile at times and Will's anxiety will ease. A single smile is all it takes sometimes for Will to feel safe. Will loves feeling safe because of Nico. Will loves feeling cared about because of Nico. Will honestly loves anything because of Nico.

Will giggles to himself and whispers, "I'm so whipped." 

He continues with his makeup, adding a bit of glitter to his eyelids to make them pop, not enough to be obvious but enough for Nico to see when they're face to face. He wants his eyes to pop because he knows Nico loves his eyes. 

He loves Nico's eyes too. How soft and familiar they are. Their warmth makes Will feel giddy inside. Everytime Nico looks at him with those gentle brown eyes, Will feels a little more in love.

Will loves everything about Nico. He loves his kindness, even when Nico doesn't always openly show it. Will loves his humor, his late night thoughts, and even his crude inappropriate jokes. Will laughs thinking about them. Will especially loves how genuine Nico is. How Nico is true with his feelings, he doesn't always show or talk about them, but when he does, Nico is truthful. Will loves that. 

Will loves knowing he can trust Nico no matter what. He knows Nico would never hurt him, or lie to him about something important, or do something to break his trust. Will loves that stability. Will loves having something, someone, to trust with no doubt in the back of his mind.

Will trusts Nico, he loves him, and he wants tonight to be the most perfect night. Because Nico deserves that. Will likes to think he deserves it too.

After all the shit and pain they have gone through, a night of love and joy is just what the doctor ordered. Will should know, he's the one who wrote the doctor note after all.

He glances at his phone, beaming at his lockscreen that's a picture of them together smiling, and checks the time. It's still way too early to be dressed and almost ready to leave. It makes him flustered that he's so nervous. 

The thing is, he can't calm down, because he's so fucking excited. He's excited to hold Nico’s hand, see him all dressed up, and spend the night dancing with him and loving him freely and without any fear.

Tonight is about having fun and Will refuses to let anything ruin that for them. 

He runs a hand through his hair anxiously, thoughts going wild. He wonders how Nico is doing his hair, should he text him and ask? Maybe they should do matching hairstyles… No that's way too much. But he hopes Nico is happy with whatever hairstyle he chooses. Will looks at his hair, he should definitely keep it soft and fluffy, no hair products if he can. He wants Nico to be able to run his fingers through his hair… Will loves when he does that.

Will closes his eyes imagining it. He loves how warm Nico’s hands are. How soft they are when tangled in his wavy hair or cupping his cheek.  Will feels his chest tighten in happiness. 

He hopes they have a lot of moments like that tonight. A lot of embraces, kisses, giggles, gentle looks, blushes, and happiness. He hopes with everything inside him that tonight is everything he wants it to be, for both of them.

A loud snap makes Will jump, but he laughs loudly when he realizes it was just the comb falling off the sink. He picks it up and starts brushing his hair, giggling a little at how it fluffs out in funny angles. 

Nico would tease him about it before running his fingers through it and kissing him, saying how much he loves Will. It almost makes Will tempted to keep it how it is but he decides against it quickly because he would rather Nico tease him in private. He would also love for Nico to see him and immediately know how much effort Will put in to make himself look good. He wants Nico to know he cares enough to put in that extra effort.

Will starts actually styling his hair now, brushing it back into a neat simple look. He isn't very good at hair anyway, so he's pretty happy with how it ends up. Even if it isn't very impressive. 

He takes a deep breath and looks at himself fully, taking a step back. His pink suit is still crisp and fresh, the black shirt underneath ironed straighter than Will’s sexuality, and his face looks soft. He smiles, dimples popping up among the array of freckles. He can't help it, Will shoots himself finger guns, “lookin good Solace.” He says to himself with a semi confident chuckle. He feels good and he's more excited than ever for Nico to see him.

In a rush, Will leaves his room, triple checking anxiously to make sure he has everything he needs. Wallet, phone, stim toy… He pats himself down and runs out the door. He immediately runs back in remembering an extremely crucial thing he forgot, his shoes. 

After slipping them on he's off again, practically running to where their prom is being held and he holds his breath upon entering.

Because there's Nico.

Nico smiles, eyes beautiful and staring at Will. Will can feel his heart speed up, but not with anxiety this time… but with love and warmth and all things good.

Will can't believe he was so nervous before, because now he's here, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Nico seems happy and content. Will plans on doing everything he can to keep that happy look on his face.

Will loves him, he knows that, it's his single truth. But right now he can feel himself falling deeper and deeper in love the longer they stare at each other. Nico’s eyes warm, giving Will the reassurance he needs for the last bit of his anxiety to slowly melt off. 

They're here, standing in the middle of their prom, and safe together. Will smiles and takes Nico in, his eyes, hairs adjourned with flowers, and suit. Will smiles at his suit. It's black and makes the pink undershirt stand out beautifully. Hell, everything is standing out beautifully because Nico is wearing it. Nico looks beautiful, more than beautiful. He looks gorgeous and handsome and… and cute? 

Will can't think of the perfect word to describe him other than beautiful. Absolutely beautiful and he grows more beautiful somehow the longer he's smiling.

Nico is smiling and it makes Will glow gently, eager to be with him and hold his hand and dance the night away.

Because they can.

Because this is their night and their turn for that happily ever after they deserve. 

-

He loved Will. Of that, he was sure. Out of all the things in all of the world, his love for Will was his only objective truth.

It was everything about him, from the way he smiled to the way he laughed. When Will would smile, the corner of his mouth would quirk up and his eyes would light up before his whole face would relax into a wide smile, one where the freckles on the bridge of his nose would crinkle, one where his cheeks would dimple either side in a way that had Nico wanting to grab his face and kiss them both before worshipping every last freckle on his face. Each freckle was like a star in the night's sky, constellations and nebulae, and Nico was a sailor lost at sea, guided home into Will's safe arms by the ever-constant freckles on his face. Love alters not. Nico couldn't help but think of sonnet 116 whenever he looked at Will. He was so sure of his love for Will. Will's laugh. Will's laugh was music, the best kind of music, full and loud. He wasn't a songbird when he laughed, rather he snorted and wheezed and giggled in a way that made him tear up, his whole body shook, the blood flooded his cheeks until they were a ruddy wine pink to the tips of his ears, until the blotchy blush spread down his neck and reached the constellations on his back and chest.

Nico had spent so long in the bathroom already, trying to figure out how to wear his hair- he'd scrubbed the gel out twice and given up, and he was about to grab the straighteners when his sister Hazel leapt up from her seat on his bed, reminding him that his curls were beautiful, putting two simple braids either side and tying them at the back, weaving in daisies. She still had her nightie and bonnet on- after all, it was five am and way too early for Nico to be getting ready and he was probably going to sweat too much and have to shower again and ruin his hair. Nico would do his best to return the favour, although he'd probably call somebody in to spend the time to braid her hair correctly.

And his suit, his suit was black, cut crisp and ironed out straight, tailored exactly to his measurements. It complimented his rich olive skin, and the baby pink shirt, pleated at the front, worked well. Nico wasn't one to wear pink, but it was going to compliment Will's suit, and if he was honest, it suited him, and he liked the colour connotations for himself. He'd decided on the bow tie, black, of course, with gold trimmings like the gold of Will's glow. But he quickly took it off- he wanted to match Will, wanted to be cheesy, so he put on his black tie and undid it and repeated the process for at least ten minutes before deciding it looked good. 

He wore a small amount of eyeliner, just to bring out the deep glass brown of his eyes, and perhaps distract from the still reddened acne scars on his cheeks. He didn't mind them, of course, they were natural- he just loved his dark brown eyes, and wanted them to stand out the most today. He knew Will liked his eyes, loved the way Will would look him in the eyes, his blue ones scanning between Nico's eyes in search of Nico's feelings. And Nico would always melt under the concern and sincerity in them, would melt in the way Will's salt damaged curls felt beneath his fingers, dry, but so soft, like cat fur, but longer, and a sunrise blond. 

Nico was nervous of everything about today, from the fact he was ready so early, to the fact he was arriving alone, and what if Will was late or what if Will was sick and couldn't make it-

He must have been pale with anxiety, because Hazel had made him sit down. He took a moment to look at the shake of his hands, attempting to will the shake away. His skin had finally lost the unhealthy ghostly tone- the way that his rich skin would seem to have a translucent mottled appearance, almost greyed with the sallow pallor that had taken over. He'd looked so ill, like a ghost, not white, but intangible, or like a corpse, like there was no blood beneath his skin, his tan faded enough that his olive skin looked dull. Not white, far from white- after all, his olive complexion was there to stay- but it looked ashen. His skin was a warm tan, the olive undertones seeming to almost glow with vitality now- like it once had when he was a child.

He was so happy.

He knew that the moment he arrived, he'd be unable to breathe. He knew- he knew he'd get that sudden surge of life inside the pit of his stomach, fluttering out of his chest like caged songbirds- he knew he'd be unable to help the goofy smile that crossed his expression as he found himself looking at Will. Because Will was stunning, Will was pretty, Will was handsome, and Will was beautiful. There wasn't many men that Nico considered beautiful, but Will? Will was beautiful. He was beautiful when he laughed so hard he hiccupped light butterflies and he was beautiful when he cried over puppies. And he was beautiful when his glow shifted into warm ambers and sunrise yellows, and he was tragically beautiful when they shifted into sunset oranges and dark ambers. Will was beautiful, stunning, acne scars to match Nico's own.

Nico wanted Will to know that he was beautiful, that his soft features were kind and reassuring, that his flesh was beautiful over every pound of flesh beneath, over every pale bone and every bloody muscle, over every thin tendon and every working organ. Nico didn't always have faith in the gods, but he believed in them with his whole being and vitality when he saw Will's baby blue eyes, the way that Will was so beautiful, so angelic, so goddamn handsome, that there was no way he hadn't been delicately crafted by the gods themselves.

Will was so kind, so loving, so tender, in the way he'd hesitate before every kiss and the way he'd cup Nico's jaw with the softest touch, to silently wait for Nico's consent before kissing him so tenderly, so lovingly, that Nico could feel every ounce of emotion behind it. Nico knew he was loved, in the way Will closed his eyes and sighed, in the way Will held Nico close long after the kiss had ended.

Will was so genuinely kind, so loving, so considerate and so talented. Nico had never been more sure of anything more than this as he slipped the gold ring inside of his jacket's inside pocket. 

He looked in the mirror one last time, before changing back to the bow tie. Maybe he wouldn't match Will today, and maybe that wouldn't matter- because he knew- he knew, looking at his reflection, that the small accent of gold would be a comfort whilst he travelled, like Will was right there, always, close to his heart.

He'd never been more nervous, and he was sure he'd be more nervous in the future, but right now, he knew that his nerves were a precursor to something good, that today, he would unlock a future he once would have only dreamed of. He found himself not particularly caring what anybody would have to say. Will was his king tonight.

And he waited hours, hours until finally- finally, he was able to sit inside the slick black limo he'd hired, finally able to anxiously count down every second until he arrived. He was so wrapped up in his anxiety that he hadn't the chance to think- but as soon as he stepped out, as soon as he calmed his breath and looked up, everything stopped.

Will was ethereal. He was breathtaking, stunningly beautiful, stood there nervously in his baby pink suit and his black shirt. And their eyes locked. Nico felt as though his feet moved on their own, unable to think of anything, anything other than Will, beautiful, kind, loving Will- and he knew more than anything else in this world that he was going to love this boy with his whole soul, knew that he was going to hold this boy and never let go, knew that he was going to marry this boy.

Will was the sun, the sunrise, and the sunset. Will was the warmth across the shadows. Will was the embracing light and comforting heat of the soft golden glow of every morning and every evening, he was the fire that kickstarted Nico's heart, and he was the ray of light that bathed every worshipper in his luxurious golden glow- the giver of life. Being with Will was a religious experience.

"Hey," he punched out in a stuttered breath, reaching his hand out with a genuine, heartfelt smile, "care to dance, sunshine?" 

[spookyrobbins]

Okay, i can’t believe you managed to make a fucking bubblegum and x-ray hella sad. Kudos for that!

Now let’s do part 2 of the angst game with more random words.

1.) Moles/freckles

2.) Glasses

3.) Gauze-paws

4.) Polaroid

5.) Fending machine

6.) Ballpoint

7.) Softball

8.) Leather

9.) Clown

10.) Bailey

1.) Moles/freckles

callie was always fascinated with arizona's moles and freckles and used to trace them and count them and she honestly thought she could spend hours cataloging each one

there was one on her left knee that looked like the lyra constellation (a constellation that is partially based in the mythology of the muses) that was one of callie's particular favourites

i'll let you fill in the blanks :)

2.) Glasses

it started with glasses, oddly enough

arizona was in denial, but callie noticed; the colonel kept losing his glasses, he kept losing his glasses and he just seemed confused

arizona refused to even talk about it; he was the colonel, he was always fine

and then he asked how seattle was - arizona hadn't lived in seattle in three years

the next time they visited a few months later, he hesitated when he spoke to sofia, as if it took him a moment to place her

and still, arizona and barbara didn't want to see it bc he was fine most of the time, he had lived a hard life, he was getting older so a bit of confusion was normal and nothing callie said could change their minds

if callie could’ve done anything to stop the devastation that appeared in arizona’s face, she would’ve. but she could do nothing but watch as arizona’s face crumbled when her father turned to her after dinner one night and called her margaret, his beloved older sister, whom arizona did bear a striking resemblance

but maybe the worst moment came a few months after he was diagnosed, when arizona was speaking to him on the phone and he mentioned that he was going to give tim a call; arizona didn't know what to say but she didn't have the heart to tell him that tim was dead

and to think, it started with glasses

3.) Gauze-paws

arizona knew she shouldn't be jealous; they were just friends; mark was just helping his best friend bc she had chicken pox and she probably really wanted to scratch

it was stupid and childish to be jealous; after all, she was the one lying to her girlfriend - she totally had chickenpox, she and tim had it at the same time and spent a week on the couch, absolutely miserable, watching re-runs of MASH

but god if she didn't hate mark sloan just a bit, she just wished he wasn't around so much, like if he decided to leave seattle for a while or forever, arizona wouldn't exactly be mourning the loss

she really shouldn't have lied to callie, she just panicked and now mark sloan was cuddling with her girlfriend who looked unfairly cute with chicken pox and gauze paws

4.) Polaroid

callie loved taking pictures of arizona

arizona hated it when callie took photos of her, not because she was self-conscious, but because callie rarely told her she was doing it; arizona would just find polaroids of herself lying around (there had been a particularly dicey moment when cristina nearly found a more racy one if not for callie's quick thinking)

callie started to hate it too at some point; some point around when it seemed like arizona had disappeared in on herself, slipped into a deep, dark place and wasn't the arizona callie knew and all she had left of her arizona were the polaroids

callie couldn't remember the last time she felt so useless and pathetic as she flipped through old polaroids of arizona and a smile that callie hadn't seen in months; somehow it felt like she was looking at a ghost, even if arizona was only twenty feet away

5.) Fending machine

when she's wrapped up in planning a surgery, arizona frequently forgets to eat; for years, callie would remind her, just like arizona would make sure callie ate when she was working on her research

her favourite was this one kind of chocolate peanut butter granola bars that they only had in the cancer wing vending machines, which was on the clear opposite side from peds

it had been years since callie was around to take care of her and arizona had honestly forgot about the granola bars

but one day, she was down in the cancer wing for a patient and she happened to pass by the vending machines and it was so stupid it was a freaking granola bar, but she just felt alone? because nobody cared to make sure she was eating and bringing her the granola bars she liked and make sure that she wasn't so, so painfully alone all the time; but she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it, even if it felt like she couldn't breathe

6.) Ballpoint

arizona broke up with her and callie didn't want to be that girl who cried over stupid things just because they belonged to someone else

but then she found a ballpoint pen in the pocket of her labcoat and it was definitely arizona's; callie definitely didn't keep glitter pens in her lab coat and callie was just so angry because who did arizona think she was going around kissing her in elevators and smiling with her stupid dimples and yep, callie might be able to hate arizona just a little bit, she tossed the pen in the trash and steeled herself for having to go up to peds and maybe see arizona, honestly, her day couldn't get that much worse, not when it started with crying in her cereal

7.) Softball

arizona was cleaning out her junk closet when she found a picture of the hospital softball team, all goofy smiles and arms slung over shoulders and just happiness bled through the photo

as she traced over their faces with her finger, she desperately wished she could go back to that moment and warn them, tell them to hold onto this moment of happiness because henry would die a month later, teddy would leave and never return, mark and lexie would never get to be together, owen and cristina would fall to pieces, she and callie would tear each other apart, cristina would leave, derek would die and leave meredith broken with three small children; everything would change and very rarely for the better

8.) Leather

arizona locked herself in a supply closet, she knew she was being childish or jealous or insecure or whatever million words callie had thrown at her years ago, but god, it felt like her heart was being torn to shred for the hundredth time

but seeing penny wearing callie's leather jacket, the one that callie had been wearing all those years ago in that dirty bar bathroom, the one that arizona used to steal as a joke, the one that had always been arizona's favourite, it just felt like one more thing on top of everything else, just further proof that callie had moved on and arizona was just going to have to be okay with it

only she didn't know how to be okay anymore, she wasn't sure she could do that anymore, she'd just smile through the pain and it'd work because no one other than callie would know it wasn't a real smile, and even callie wouldn't notice because she didn't care anymore and arizona wished she didn't care. she wished she didn't automatically look for callie, didn't catch herself doing a million things that had become muscle memory because of callie

9.) Clown

"callie, what the fuck happened? why is sofia calling me in tears?"

"we took sofia to the circus and there were clowns and penny wanted to do something nice for sofia and she took her to get a balloon animal when I went to get food and she didn't know that sofia's afraid of clowns. that's all. it's fine, I'm dealing with it. you don't need to freak out about it."

"I don't need to freak out, seriously, callie? i think I'm perfectly entitled to freak out because my daughter called me in tears because you left her alone with your girlfriend who didn't know she is terrified of clowns. damn it, callie."

"it's fine."

"it's not. it's really, really not. sofia is terrified and I'm on the other side of the country and she is crying and she didn't feel like she could tell you because you'd be mad. it's really, really not fucking okay, callie."

10.) Bailey

bailey really thought out of everyone, callie and arizona would make it

they loved each other in such a special way; they loved each other even when they hated each other; they had special smiles and twinkling eyes; and bailey always grumbled about them but she sort of adored them in her own way

she wanted to shake them and tell them to hold on to each other

she wanted to yell at arizona to actually fight for something because she loved callie torres so damned much and you don't just give up on the love of your life, even if you think you're doing it for her happiness

she wanted to shake callie and tell her that arizona still loved her, but she was terrified because callie left and she was trying to protect callie and callie had to see that arizona watched her and waited for her and the way arizona's smile dimmed just a bit more each day

but she didn't and she would regret that as she sat in a courtroom watching a lawyer try to destroy arizona while callie did nothing

she would regret that when she saw a version of arizona robbins that was wholly unfamiliar to her when she came back from new york

she would regret that as she watched arizona finally try to move on with now that callie was really gone, but bailey could tell that her heart wasn't in it because her heart was in

she would regret that whenever she got a message from callie "just checking in"

but there wasn't much for her to do, so she would give tuck an extra hug because he was still here and she wouldn't have to give him up; and she'd tell ben how much she loved him because not everyone got to tell the love of their life they loved them

and she would say a silent prayer that callie and arizona someday find their way back together.

[moonlightrichie]

Reddie + in the snow + confessing feelings??

Thanks for the prompt lovely ♡

READ ON AO3

(Send me a kissing prompt (place + reason) from THIS LIST)

Richie was in the battle zone.

Balls of snow came hurdling at him from his right in a wicked speed, all of them missing him as he ran. His fingers were freezing, melted snow having soaked through his thin gloves. They weren’t exactly made for making snowballs.

He couldn’t think about that now, though, all his focus instead on just making it to safety. Beverly and Stan were yelling encouragingly at him, both gesturing from behind the wall for him to get over there.

From somewhere in the distance he could hear Eddie shriek: “he’s getting away!” and he pushed on, trying to quicken his pace. It was heavy carrying himself through the thick layer of snow, his boots sinking deep into it with every step.

“I’m out of ammo!” Ben yelled.

And then. Mike’s screaming voice (“Hit him, Bill!”) was the last thing Richie heard before falling to the ground from the impact of Bill’s snowball hitting him in the face. Perfectly aimed, right into his cheek, and he was down, glasses flying off of his face.

“Noooooo!” It was Beverly and Stan. Chaos all around him; he couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything other than cold snow seeping down his neck and into his shirt. Everything was blurry and he couldn’t tell up from right anymore.

“Alright, time out”, a muffled voice said from somewhere far away. Richie couldn’t keep track of what was happening around him.

And then: an angel. Sun like a halo and the smiling face of Eddie hovering over him as he put Richie’s glasses back on his face. He was laughing, but the look in his eyes showed that he was at least a little bit concerned. “You okay?”

Richie blinked, opening his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He felt warmth spread to his cheeks at how close Eddie’s face was to his own, and for a second he forgot he was cold. Snow was pushing inside of all open entrances of his clothes. Into his boots, his sleeves and underneath his jacket, it was everywhere. At least he could see now.

And what he saw was Eddie’s freckled face, skin tanned even though it was winter and lips quirked in a soft smile. Eddie’s lips never got chapped like Richie’s did during the winter because of all the amount of chapstick he used to keep them moisturized. Richie felt a sudden urge to push up on his elbows and kiss him.

He didn’t do that though.

Instead he shook himself out of the trance, grinning widely at Eddie.

“I am now that you’re here”, he reached up to pinch Eddie’s cheek. “My spaghetti in shining armor.”

Eddie’s smile was immediately replaced by a pouty frown (which didn’t help Richie’s want to kiss him), annoyance flashing in his eyes.

He pushed Richie’s hand away from his face. “Don’t call me that.” And then he was off of Richie, trudging back to his team. “You’ve got 10 seconds to take shelter before we’re starting again!”

Richie was back on his feet in an instant, stumbling to where Beverly and Stan were hiding from the other team.

“You did great out there, Richie”, Stan patted him on the back. “Still think it’s unfear they’re four and we’re three.”

“Bullshit, it’s unfear to them cause you got me on your team”, Beverly winked at them.

She was right; she had the best aim out of all seven of them.

“I think we can do it”, Richie whispered, their heads close together. “Our last maneuver: we’ve got lots of ammo. They’re almost empty after throwing all of theirs at me- you’re welcome for my sacrifice by the way, I’m fucking soaked- anyways, I say all three of us jump out and attack at the same time.”

Beverly and Stan looked at each other before meeting Richie’s gaze with determination. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay, on three”, they all got into position. “One, two…”

Beverly was grinning.

“Three!”

And then they were running out and screaming, annihilating the other team in seconds, the four of them standing no chance against the fury of Team Glorious Cockrats.

Richie was walking with Eddie home after the fight, their hands brushing and sending sparks up Richie’s arm.

“I’m so fucking cold”, Eddie muttered, still sour after losing.

“It was fun, though!” Richie poked him in the side with his elbow.

“Yeah”, Eddie smiled slightly. “It was.”

Silence settled over them.

“Hold on.” Eddie stopped, reaching to pull of his scarf. “Hold this.”

As Richie’s hands were digging into the softness of Eddie’s scarf, Eddie opened his jacket to shake it. Remnants of snow fell out from the inside. “Fucking hell.”

Then his jacket was closed again and he was reaching for his scarf.

“Here, let me”, Richie mumbled, stretching the scarf out and putting it around Eddie’s bare neck. It was thick and long enough to absolutely drown him in it, head poking out from the cocoon cutely.

God, Richie was so absolutely head over heels in love with him.

He had been since he was a 12-year-old nerd with ugly glasses and crooked teeth. Even though he’d changed on the outside in the last six years, growing up into a full six foot two with new glasses and fixed teeth, his feelings for Eddie had stayed the same on the inside.

Not that he’d ever let Eddie know that.

But looking at Eddie now, with his brown eyes glittering and nose red from the cold, Richie couldn’t help himself. Eddie looked so damn cute and cuddly in his layered winter-attire, sniffling from between Richie’s arms, which were working on putting his scarf back on. His nose looked so soft and damn cold and Richie leaned forward before he knew what he was doing. He pushed his nose to Eddie’s, rubbing back and forth to warm it up with his own.

Closing his eyes, he felt the soft skin of Eddie against his, enjoying their close proximity. With a happy sigh, he smiled to himself.

It was Eddie’s breath hitching that pulled him out of it, and Richie pulled away in shock when he realized what he was doing.

Eddie’s eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape.

“I, uhm…” Richie didn’t know what to say as he released his hold on Eddie’s scarf finally.

“Did”, Eddie stopped. “Did you just give me an Eskimo kiss?” His voice was breathless and confused, sounding slightly dazed.

“No?” Richie laughed nervously.

“Yes, you did.” Eddie furrowed his brows.

“Well, then, if you knew that, then why’d you ask?” Richie’s heart was beating wildly inside his chest. Why the hell had he done that?

“Rich…”

“Nope.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know”, Richie was panicking, hands starting to shake. He needed to get away.

“Richie.”

“Oh, look at the time”, he looked down at his watch-less wrist. “Time to get home.” He started jogging backwards, almost tripping over his feet.

“Richie, don’t you dare walk away from me.” The strict tone in Eddie’s voice made Richie stop in his tracks.

With a sigh he put his hands in his pocket, shrugging in defeat. “What?”

“Just”, Eddie rubbed his hands together, a nervous tick he had. “Just come ‘ere.” His voice was much less sharp now, softer instead, slightly wobbly.

With timid steps, Richie walked back over, eyes refusing to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Closer.”

He sighed, taking the tiniest of steps toward Eddie.

Then Eddie pushed up on his toes, getting all up in Richie’s personal space to push their noses together just like Richie had a minute earlier. His fingers were digging into Richie’s forearm to keep him from pulling away.

“What are you doing?” Richie whispered shakily.

“Giving you an Eskimo kiss”, Eddie whispered back before plummeting back down on his heels with a shy smile.

“You…” Richie didn’t know how to continue.

Without replying, Eddie only shrugged, eyes so sparkly and beautiful and timid smile so captivating.

“I’m in love with you”, Richie blurted, instantly putting a hand over his dumb mouth as soon as the words left his lips.

But instead of looking surprised like Richie thought he would, Eddie laughed. His eyes were creasing, lips stretched out in the most wonderful of smiles, and he looked the happiest he had ever looked. “Idiot, I’m in love with you too.”

Richie’s heart was still beating quickly, but suddenly for a different reason. “What?”

“I have been for years.”

Richie couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What?” he repeated dumbly. How was Eddie acting so casual about this?

With a roll of his eyes, Eddie reached up a hand to brush the back of it on Richie’s cheek. “I’m in love with you.”

“You are?”

There was a small shake to Eddie’s smile, pulling his arm away to rub his hands together again, and oh. Eddie was freaking out too. If Richie was to reach out and put a hand over Eddie’s heart, he’d probably be hearing it beat just as fast as Richie’s.

“Yeah”, Eddie whispered.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah”, Eddie exhaled. “Holy shit.”

And then they were laughing, breathless and full of relief. Happiness burst into Richie’s heart and coursed through his veins. He couldn’t stop laughing. Wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, he lifted him up and spun them around.

“We’re in love!” he screamed, voice sounding hysterical with the happiness pouring out of him.

Eddie was giggling, looking down at Richie with so much love that Richie felt dizzy. Immediately he stopped his spinning, suddenly way out of balance.

Hands were in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls. Finally putting Eddie back down to the ground but keeping his arms around his waist, he leaned down to rub their noses together.

“I love you”, he whispered. Now that he could finally say it out loud, it seemed he’d never be able to stop. “I really fucking love you.”

He pulled away to look at Eddie’s blushing face, brown eyes peering up at him with wonder.

“I love you too.” And then he was looking down at Richie’s lips briefly before meeting Richie’s gaze again. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Richie leaned down, closing the distance.

Eddie’s lips were as soft as Richie had imagined, slotting together with Richie’s perfectly. Placing his hands on both sides of Eddie’s face, he sighed into the kiss happily, feeling Eddie’s forehead push against his.

His lips were tingling, tongue poking out to lick at Eddie’s bottom lip, the tip barely grazing the softness. With a content hum, Eddie opened his mouth to meet Richie’s tongue with his own. Richie bit down softly on Eddie’s lip, sucking it into his mouth barely before releasing it again. He could feel Eddie smiling, breathy laughs muffled.

Richie’s neck started to hurt from bending his head and without thinking it through, he started to lie down in the snow, pulling Eddie on top of him. It didn’t matter that his back was freezing when Eddie’s lips were so warm and lovely.

They kissed for a long time, neither wanting to break away from the other, but at some point it was impossible to ignore how cold he was. His entire back was soaked from the snow.

With a last wet peck, he pushed gently on Eddie’s cheek to make him stop. Eddie’s lips were glistening with Richie’s spit, plump and redder than before. He was beautiful.

“I kinda need to get up.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie scrambled to his feet, reaching out his hands to pull Richie up from the ground. “Sorry.”

“I’m not complaining”, Richie winked, “and to imagine we could have been doing that for years already.” His hands were back on Eddie’s hips, thumb pushed up underneath Eddie’s jacket to touch bare skin.

“We’re so dumb.” Eddie was shaking his head slightly.

“Do you wanna come over to my place?” Richie’s thumb started stroking at Eddie’s hip. “Make up for lost time?”

Already nodding, Eddie laced their fingers together and started dragging Richie after him.

The sound of Richie laughing echoed down the snow-filled street.

Tag list: @annoyingtozier, @spastuetheobsessedphylosopher, @constantreaderfool, @violetreddie, @rainbow-reddie, @tinyarmedtrex, @thundercatseddie, @deadlighten, @captainbartholomew, @queen-sock, @appojoos, @xandertheundead, @lifesucksheres20bucks

Let me know if you want to be added!

[fandom-will-be-my-fall]

Spill your heart out about Walter.

Okay so I basically got this question in what, January?? but I’m answering it now since I just rewatched the movie and have inspiration, sorry for the late reply Anon

Okay so, to start off this post with some keyboard smashing because that my primary go-to for expressing my emotions

sgklhfsgjksdlgdghkjlgjhOHUFLUSKHDGSLIDRGKJGKFSDHGlhjglksdhkglshglllllfa. knjcthxiudhusmnvsoidhéytbvonjyxclkkvbr. haeylicfvshdkgikc

HANDSOME BOY. HANDSOME. ‘NUFF SAID.

I could legit stare all day at his beautiful face… look at him. Enchanting sky blue eyes… fluffy, wavy brown hair, cute round cheeks, lovely smile… those hidden freckles that you can hardly spot and only in certain screenshots but nevertheless they’re there to raise the cuteness factor… ALSO HIS LASHES. MAYBE IT’S NATURAL?? MAYBE IT’S MAYBELLINE?? WE SHALL NEVER KNOW

Here you may be able to spot the freckles if you squint hard enough. I have 77 screenshots but this is the best example I could find.

Secondly… well, he’s a sticc. A short sticc at that (though still slightly taller than me bc I’m smol), but a sticc regardless! And that seems to be the most attractive cartoon body type for me. Don’t judge me, I just have a thing for twinks, I’m… twinksexual or whatever.

Look at him! He would fit through my doorcrack.

(Maaaybe the reason for me liking sticcs so much is partially the fact that I like the idea of a boyfriend I can protect and support, physically and emotionally. I’m mad at the universe for not letting me scoop him up in my arms bridal style and smooch the HECK outta him.)

I’ve encountered a few posts that claimed he’s got cake but, come on. That concept has canonically been proven to be false, even by Lance. This man is flat and you can pry this opinion off my cold, dead hands.

Speaking of hands! I like his big ol hands. Nice shape. They look soft. I wanna hold them.

According to a DVD commentary, and the visual facts, he has no shoulders whatsoever. Back in Venice Killian was able to restrain him effortlessly with only one foot on his chest, even as he kept struggling ans squirming and generally put in as much effort as he possibly could. Before then, he claimed the database was the first thing he has ever caught in his life.

Conclusion, our boi’s very much NOT athletic. Which makes sense for a scientist, braining all day and stuff, and because he probably barely even eats, or sleeps which are by the way both pretty concerning implications but anyway.

STOP BEATING UP THIS POOR FRAGILE LAD FOR GOD’S SAKE. Makes me want to protect him even more. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you get what I mean.

Now, on to the actual reason I’m so head over heels for him, a.k.a his personality.

He is one of the sweetest, kindest, purest boy characters I have ever seen in fiction, if not THE number one himself. (All my other cinnamon roll crushes are, or have been a villain at some point and WILL resort to violence if provoked.) Look at him, his pacifism… is unbreakable. He’s dead set on making the world a better place, by peaceful ways, and helping humanity. If that’s not a quality to be cherished then IDK what is.

And he’s just such a refreshing character. He likes pink, K-dramas, glitter, kittens, things that aren’t traditionally “masculine” (but is never made fun of those things in particular in the movie) and I love that. Nothing’s sexier than a man who’s, despite society’s shitty standards, openly and unashamedly himself!

His femininity is, if anything, just another turn-on. (This didn’t intend to sound sexual… but oh well.) I love his little hand gestures and mannerisms, dorky ramblings, the way he says “yep” popping the “p” at the end, all the small yet significant traits that were incorporated into his character. Bless you, SiD creators, bless you.

Have I said that he’s a genius?? Which is pretty obvious but c’mon, he graduated at 15!! He can modify human genes!! He successfully turned a man into a pigeon on the first try!! (The serum wasn’t the first prototype but we can assume he didn’t experiment on living humans with the previous ones.) And he’s still just 20!! Like what is that if not hella fucking impressive???!??

His inventions, to the untrained eye, may seem “stupid” or “childish” but alas! The observer couldn’t be more wrong! Because despite the odd designs and themes they’re all highly effective, as we have witnessed in the battle against Killian. And he is extremely creative for coming up with such ideas! Told you he’s brilliant!!

Which makes me all the sadder about how much they underappreciated him at the agency. In his words, nobody ever listened to him, or gave him a chance. They just left him and his “weird” ideas next to the men’s bathroom and called it a day. How could they be so blind? Didn’t they see the potential in his inventions? Oh well. Maybe I’m just being a smartass bc I have more knowledge, living outside that universe. But I’m totally right.

And I was honestly ready to throw hands with Lance for hurting the boi even further. (I’d stand no chance whatsoever, but still.)

Oh no baby please don’t cry.

He did cry in that scene though… you could see a tear rolling down his cheek and if it wasn’t for the machine beeping… He did have a pretty rough day afterall. But HEY, if we dwell on it too much the scene loses its comedic effect!! A guy gets sad over a stupid soap opera, har har har!! Now let’s move on, keep it fast and snappy for the kids, don’t let them overthink it!! Can’t have any emotional breakdowns onscreen. Keep it lighthearted y’know. Then let’s kill a random side character and have our dear protagonist almost die twice.

(Well jokes on you Blue Sky! I’m no kid, but a devoted fangirl who can and will overthink any material of my fictional faves at any given opportunity.)

You know what else I love about him though?? His love for animals!! And pigeons, especially Lovey!! He loves her so much, gives her gluten free breadcrumbs, nuzzles her, the first thing he does when he finds out Lance can talk to the pigeons is ask if she loves him too!! Like… That’s so pure and wholesome.

This here. THIS RIGHT HERE. BROTP forever.

(Not gonna lie, I used to be crazy for pigeons for like, an entire year or something. Not as in looking up all the facts there are about pigeons as I do nowadays with cartoons, but I’d feed them regularly and write my little observations on their behaviors. Did you know they sometimes scratch their neck with their leggies like dogs do?)

I think I’ve summed up mostly everything I love about this nerd. Oh wait, almost forgot the sass!! I love how sassy and smug he can be sometimes, in like, a really harmless way but it’s still a very nice characteristic.

Since I’ve ran out of coherent things to say, here’s an incomplete list of things I want to do to Walter Beckett. Put at the end of this post so those of you who were only here for the analysis part and not the selfshippy gushing don’t have to read further:

kiss he

like seriously

just kiss he a whole lot

cover his whole face in kisses

one kiss for each of his freckles. a finishing kiss onto the tip of his nose. then repeat the cycle

hug him. hug him like the world is ending. hug him so tight he can barely breathe

then ofc let go and apologize bc I would never hurt him on purpose

cuddle him

hold him close, let him lay his head on my chest

run my fingers through his hair

listen to his breathing

discover that he’s fallen asleep on me and smile fondly, then soon drift off to sleep myself so we can wake up entangled in eachother the next morning

fuck he

pin him to a wall and snog he

make him go cherry red

fluster he

compliment him. praise him. appreciate him. he’s a prince, a hero, an angel, a wonderful human being and he needs to know this

feed pigeons together

listen to his scientific ramblings and bird facts

write him love letters and give them to him. maybe read it aloud myself if I’m feeling brave so I can see his reaction in real time

serenade he

be the love of his life, and have him be mine

just… soft things, man

cook something for this malnourished sticc

make him small handmade gifts

they’re nothing like his gadgets but I tried

draw he

have him be my muse in general

not like he isn’t now but it would be lovely if he was real too

carry him bridal style

be the feral cryptid that lurks in his house when he isn’t around

sing along to cheesy pop-song together really badly

watch cheesy rom coms

flirt with eachother clumsily until we’re both laughing at our awkwardness

or, alternatively, shower him with compliments until he literally cannot handle it

have sleepovers together

give him hand kisses

be of emotional support

[goldenmessenger]

TS Actor AU: Eye of the Storm

Summary: In New York City, Patton has some big plans, and Virgil's got his back. Logan is oblivious. But very quickly the night changes into something none of them expected.

Takes place at roughly the same time as IronWoman359's "I've Got You Brother" and my "Aftermath"

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! It’s Em, back with more Actor AU! This is #4 from my ideas list, where we get to see what was going on in NYC with our other boys during Remus’s disastrous interview. I’m very happy with how parts of this turned out. And this is a whopper, my longest one yet at 6026 words. Never written quite this much in one go, so I hope you guys like it! 

Next, more of Thomas and Virgil figuring out their relationship, then we get to meet the kids! Or some of them, at least.

As usual, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Content Warnings: Panic, tempers, irrational thoughts

*************************************

Patton paced back and forth in Virgil’s hotel room, nervous energy filling every fiber of his being. What if something went wrong? What if he screwed up? What if Logan disliked it so much that he never wanted to see him again or— 

“Take a breath, Pop Star.” Virgil’s voice broke through the haze of anxiety weighing Patton down. “You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet. You’ve gone over every step of this, it’ll be perfect.”

“You sure?” Patton said, flopping down on the bed next to Virgil. “What-what if I forget what I want to say, or I trip and break my nose, or I trip and break Logan’s nose—”

“Breathe, Pat.” Virgil said, maintaining his calm tone. “You’re grinding again.”

Patton inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. Virgil placed his hands gently on his friend’s shoulder. 

“You and Logan might not have been together very long, but I can tell that he loves you so much. Even if things do go wrong tonight, he’ll still think it’s all perfect, because you’re there with him.” Virgil said. “And you guys have already adopted two kids together, and that’s one of the biggest steps you can take as a couple. What’s one more?”

Patton smiled thankfully at Virgil, then stood up.

“He’s probably going to be ready to go soon.” Patton said, looking at the door that connected Virgil’s hotel room to his and Logan’s. Patton turned back to Virgil. “How do I look?” He asked, feeling nervous again.

Patton had picked out a light blue floral sundress, with a skirt that was higher in the front than the back, and was wearing a pair of light brown flats with them. Virgil had done his makeup, light on the foundation so as not to hide Patton’s freckles, which Logan adored, and with glittery silver eyeshadow. The lipstick was simple as well, a nice rosy pink. Patton’s curly hair, which he always kept shoulder-length when not filming the show, had been pulled back into a simple side braid.

“You look gorgeous, Pat.” Virgil said firmly. “And I know Logan will agree.”

“Know Logan will agree with what?”

Virgil and Patton both turned to find Logan standing right next to the door between the rooms. Patton’s jaw dropped. Logan was wearing white slacks and black shoes, but the star of the otherwise simple outfit was his top. It was a off the shoulder button-up top that was dark blue, but glittered like a sky full of stars.

“I was just telling Pat that you’d think he looks absolutely gorgeous.” Virgil said, grinning at his lovebird friends.

“Virgil is absolutely correct, Patton.” Logan said. “You look absolutely stunning.”

“So do you.” Patton said, beaming at his boyfriend.

Virgil pretended to gag at how cute the two were, but they both knew he was only joking.

“You two better shoo,” Virgil said, “Pat has a pretty full date planned, and I don’t think you’ll want to miss any of it.”

“What are your plans while we’re gone?” Logan asked.

“Gonna watch Remus’s interview when it airs, go to bed. This is his first one for the show, after all. Gotta show some support.” Virgil said, then frowned. “I wasn’t kidding about the shooing guys, we’ve got free time right now, but we’ve got an absolutely hectic day of interviews tomorrow. You’ll both want your sleep.”

“Don’t worry, Virge!” Patton said cheerily. “You’ll barely even notice we’re gone!’

Virgil smiled. 

“I doubt that. Now go. I’m gonna FaceTime my boyfriend so I’m not feeling like a third wheel.”

*************************************

“That was quite a well-done show.” Logan said, and Patton smiled up at him, doing his best to contain the nervousness that had come back with a vengeance.

The evening had gone very well. Dinner was at a rather expensive steakhouse where Patton had gotten them reservations, and then they had gone to watch the musical Hadestown, where they had perfect seats right in the middle of the orchestra.

And now they were in the car, with their driver taking them back to the hotel. Or, at least, that’s where Logan thought they were going. Patton’s hand tightened around the object in his pocket. It was going to work, Virgil was right, there was no reason to be nervous. 

And yet, Patton still was.

“The effects were spectacular and I was quite impressed with all of the actors.” Logan continued, not seeming to have noticed Patton’s nerves. “Though the ending was very sad. It was certainly foolish of Orpheus to turn around like that—”

The car stopped suddenly, and Logan blinked in surprise.

“This isn’t the hotel.” He said, bemused.

“No, it’s not.” Despite his nervousness, Patton couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face. “Come on Lo, let’s go inside.”

*************************************

The Hayden Planetarium and the museum that contained it were usually closed by this time of night, but the management had been more than happy to let Patton use it once he explained his plan (and, of course, offered the museum a not insignificant donation).

Patton led Logan to the planetarium. When they entered, the ‘sky’ lit up, filling with stars.

“Patton,” Logan said, “what is all of this?”

“Well,” Patton said, stepping backward into the planetarium, “I wanted to do this with a sky of stars above us, but since we’re in the middle of a city, I thought that this would be a close second.”

“Do what?” Logan questioned, and Patton smiled and took Logan’s hands in his.

“Logan Clarke, two years ago today you decided to throw all caution to the wind and ask me out, and I will never stop being glad that you did.” Patton paused for a breath, suddenly distracted by his phone buzzing in his back pocket. Then Logan smiled at him, and gestured for Patton to continue, and Patton forgot all about his phone.

“I love you more than almost anything else in the entire world,”

“Almost?” Logan questioned teasingly and Patton grinned back.

“Yeah, you’re tied with the kids.” Patton said, and Logan laughed. Feeling a new surge of courage and love burst through him, Patton decided to ditch the rest of his speech. He didn’t need it. Letting go of Logan’s hands and pulling out the small box that had been burning a hole in his pocket for the last three months, Patton went down on one knee. He was vaguely aware of his phone buzzing again, but he ignored it. Whoever it was could wait.

“Logan Clarke, will you marry me?”

Logan smiled a big smile, the kind Patton had only seen on his face three times. First, when Logan had asked him out, the second when they had decided to move in together, and the third when the adoption papers for their children had been finalized.

“Yes.” Logan said softly, then pulled Patton up to his feet and the couple kissed. Patton pulled back and took the ring out of the box.

“I think you’ll be wanting this.” Patton said with a smile. “I was going to go for a custom ring, but I consulted the kids, and Piper and Hazel both thought that you’d like this.”

The ring hadn’t been very expensive as engagement rings go, but Patton knew that Logan wouldn’t want anything huge. Logan was a huge fan of Lord of the Rings, and so the kids had convinced Patton to buy a replica of Aragorn and Arwen’s engagement ring. From the smile on Logan’s face as Patton slipped it on his finger, Patton knew that he had made the right choice.

The couple kissed again, arms entwining around each other.

Suddenly, Patton’s phone buzzed again.

“Is that your phone?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Patton frowned. “That’s the third or fourth time it’s buzzed in the last several minutes. I should probably check it and make sure that it’s not Dot and Larry calling about the girls.”

Reluctantly, the two pulled apart and Patton pulled his phone out.

5 Missed Calls From: ‘Dark Strange Son’

“Five missed calls from Virgil?” Logan said.

“Yeah, he knew I was going to propose, maybe he was just excited to hear how it went?” Patton suggested. But as soon as he said it, both he and Logan frowned.

“That’s not really like Virgil.” Logan said. “Maybe Roman or Thomas, but not Virgil. He would’ve waited for us to call him.”

“That’s a fair point—” Patton began, and suddenly Logan’s phone began to buzz. Logan immediately pulled it out.

Incoming call from: ‘Virgil Matthew Bailey’

Logan instantly picked it up and put it on speakerphone.

“Virgil, what’s going on?”

“Thank goodness I finally got ahold of you.” Virgil’s voice burst through in a panicked rush. Patton and Logan both exchanged worried looks. They both knew Virgil well enough to tell when the younger man was on the edge of a panic attack.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt your date, but you guys need to come back to the hotel room now. Remus’s interview—it’s hard to explain—”

“No need.” Logan said promptly. “We’ll be right there.”

*************************************

They’d watched the interview on their phones on the way back to the hotel.

Logan couldn’t say that he blamed Remus for losing his temper. In the early days of Season One, when the prying questions seemed to come at Roman every other interview, Logan had stormed out of quite a few interviews himself, sometimes dragging Roman out with him. So Logan couldn’t say he’d behave any differently from Remus.

The whole ride home, Patton was curled into Logan’s side, all too quiet. Logan knew that was a bad sign. Where Virgil’s anxiety could be louder, with panicked rambling and hyperventilating, Patton’s was very quiet. He would shut down, trapped under the swirling chaos of his own thoughts. Most people wouldn’t even realize that Patton wasn’t ok, because he would fly under the radar. 

Logan wasn’t most people. 

He knew his boyfriend’s—his fiancé’s tells very well. Patton wouldn’t want to talk right now, and the best Logan could do was be here for Patton until he was ready to talk.

Logan began to mentally prepare himself for their arrival at the hotel. As long as at least one of them was calm, Virgil and Patton were pretty good at grounding each other. But if they were both freaking out, then they would feed into each other’s panic and escalate it. Logan’s job was to be the calm mediator between the two. Or at least, to do his best.

Finally, their car arrived at the hotel. Logan and Patton were upstairs as quickly as their legs would take them. 

When they entered Virgil’s hotel room, Logan could already tell that Virgil had worked himself into a state. There was an abandoned plate of food on the coffee table that looked like it hadn’t been touched. So it looks like Virgil hasn’t eaten. Since lunch, I’m guessing. That’s not a great sign.

Logan was about to talk things over with both of them when his phone rang. It was Thomas. Logan stepped to the side as Patton and Virgil sat on the bed, silent.

“Salutations, Thomas. I presume you’re calling about the interview?” “Yeah, it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it. How are Pat and Virge holding up?” Thomas asked. Logan wasn’t offended that his friend didn’t ask about him, as both men knew that while Logan was worried, he’d be fine. Patton and Virgil on the other hand….

“They’re pretty quiet right now,” Logan said, “which is worrying me a little. But I think they’re doing ok.”

“That’s good.” Thomas said. “Keep an eye on Virgil for me, will you? I know he gets really worked up about this sort of thing, and it can be hard to help him to calm down. I’d be there myself but—”

“I understand.” Logan said. Thomas had been meant to be in NYC with them, but something had come up with one of the Studio’s other shows, so Thomas had stayed back to help Joan take care of it.

“Thanks Logan. Tell him I’ll call when I can, and let them both know that I’ve already got the PR department working on how to spin this.”

“I will.” Logan promised. Logan began to be vaguely aware that Virgil and Patton were talking, but he stayed focused on Thomas.

“Thank you. Also, I wanted to check in with you, as it’s likely that your interviews tomorrow will probably bring up what happened with Remus tonight. So I recommend that the three of you come up with a game plan on how to handle it.”

“I’ll discuss it with the others as soon as I’m done talking to you—” Logan paused, suddenly catching a snippet of Virgil and Patton’s conversation.

“I’ve been looking up last second flights online in case Dillon’s private jet can’t take us for some reason. The soonest doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.” Virgil said, barely looking at Patton, focused on the laptop screen in front of him.

“Morning isn’t soon enough!” Patton said emphatically. “I’m sure Captain Benson could get the jet ready in a couple of hours if I gave him the heads up.”

“Logan, you still there?” Thomas asked. “You trailed off for a second.”

“Thomas,” Logan said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our conversation short, as it sounds like you brother and my boyfriend are about to make a rather rash decision.” Logan heard Thomas sigh heavily.

“They want to come back to LA, don’t they?”

“Yes, it would seem so.” Logan confirmed.

“Well, I’ll let you go so you can try to talk them down. Tell Virgil that, as his brother, I understand where he’s coming from, and that he’s just worried about his boyfriend. However, as his boss, I need the three of you to stay in New York. It will only make the bad press worse if you three abandon interviews to come back.”

 “I’ll tell him.” Logan promised, and the conversation ended. He turned to Patton and Virgil, who seemed to have heard at least Logan’s half of the end of the conversation.

“We’re not making a rash decision.” Patton said, indignant. Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“It’s simple facts.” Virgil said, tone leaving no room for disagreement. “We need to get back to LA as soon as possible.”

“I know both of you are worried about Roman and Remus,” Logan said, “but we have a commitment to go to those interviews tomorrow. We can’t just abandon that.”

“To hell with interviews!” Virgil said, angry. “I couldn’t care less about what the media thinks.”

“Roman and Remus need us Logan,” Patton said, pleading, “we need to be there.” “I know that this is stressful for both of you,” Logan said, keeping his voice calm, “but panicking isn’t going to help anyone.”

“But—” Patton began, but Logan interrupted. 

“Have either of you actually tried to call Roman or Remus? Or even Dillon?” Logan asked. Patton shifted in his seat and Virgil wouldn’t look at Logan.

“....No.” Patton admitted finally. Virgil stayed silent, which was answer enough.

“First of all, this isn’t the first time, or the last, that the twins will have to handle bad press. Second, I just got off of the phone with Thomas, and he says that they’ve got it handled. He also said we need to stay here for now.”

Patton and Virgil remained silent. Patton looked like he was about to burst into tears, but Virgil looked downright mutinous. Logan sensed they still weren’t convinced. He was beginning to get a little frustrated. Why was it so hard to convince two grown men to make a sensible decision?

“I’m sure that while Roman and Remus would both appreciate your support, they would agree with me that for now, you both need to stay here.” Logan stated, which finally got a reaction out of Virgil, who shot to his feet.

“You don’t know that!” Virgil argued. “You haven’t even talked to them, how would you know what they want us to do?”

“Neither have you.” Logan reminded Virgil, but it came out more forcefully than he would’ve liked. Logan stopped. He felt like he was on the edge of losing his temper, and that wouldn’t help anybody if he did. Logan took a deep breath to try to ground himself, then an idea occurred to him.

An obvious one, in retrospect. 

“There’s an easy solution to this.” Logan said.

“And what would that be?” Virgil demanded, rather petulantly. “Because I don’t see one.”

“Don’t be mean, Virge.” Patton chided. “At least hear Logan out.”

“Oh, so now you’re siding with your boyfriend over me, huh?” Virgil demanded.

“I-I, no, I’m not siding with him—” Patton began to stammer, and Logan realized he needed to take control over the situation before it spiraled out of control again.

“The simple solution,” Logan interjected. “Is that we call Roman and Remus, and wait to make a decision until we are aware that our drastic action is needed. Does that sound satisfactory to you both?” 

Silence. Eventually both men gave their begrudging assent to Logan’s plan.

“Good. I’ll make the call, and while I do that, you two need to take care of yourselves.”

When both men began to utter protests, Logan cut them off.

“Virgil, I saw the plate of food on the counter, it looked like it hadn’t been touched. Have you even eaten a thing since lunch?”

“...no.” Virgil mumbled guiltily.

“What?” Patton said in shock. Logan could almost see Patton’s mothering instincts redirect from the absent Roman and Remus to Virgil as this new information registered. “Virgil, it’s past midnight now,that was nearly 10 hours ago!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll eat.” Virgil grumbled. “But I’m just doing it so you’ll leave me alone, not cause I’m actually hungry.” Patton looked like he was about to argue with Virgil on that, so Logan cut in.

“And both of you need to drink some water. Since Virgil forgot to eat, I doubt he’s drank much either. And, Pat, I know you’ve had nothing but soda to drink since dinner. Maybe that will help both of you to destress a bit.”

“There you go again with that extremist water agenda.” Virgil muttered, but he was already headed over to the kitchenette, Patton on his heels.

Logan watched them for a second, then picked up his phone, and found Dillon’s number.

*************************************

It was about two in the morning. Logan had been trying on and off to reach Roman, Remus, or Dillon. No luck yet.

Virgil and Patton were both collapsed on the couch. The three of them had migrated to Logan and Patton’s room, which, unlike Virgil’s, was a full suite (Virgil had been offered one, but he opted for a smaller room as he didn’t think he needed all of that space). Patton and Virgil had been watching cartoons while Logan made the call. They both seemed to have calmed down quite a bit, but were still quiet and on edge. Both men looked like they were nearly asleep, but both were fighting to stay awake to hear if Logan would have any success.

Logan was exhausted as well, but he couldn’t sleep. He needed to make sure everything was ok. He told himself it was to reassure Patton and Virgil, but he knew that on some level, he needed it too. Logan shifted in the armchair he sat in, trying to get more comfortable. He looked over at his friend and his fiancé, and silently prayed he could get them some answers soon.

Finally, Logan tried to call Dillon once more. This time, it worked, and Dillon picked up the phone. 

“Salutations, Dillon,” Logan said, “So you know, you’re on speakerphone.” Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw both Patton and Virgil perk up from where they sat on the couch, instantly awake and listening intently.

“Logan, hello.” Dillon replied, matching Logan’s formal tone. Despite the tone, Dillon sounded as exhausted as Logan felt. “I’m guessing you’re calling about Remus’s interview tonight?”

“Yes, I am.” Logan said. “It was mutually agreed that out of Patton, Virgil, and myself that I would be the best candidate to call at the moment.” Logan heard Dillon sigh heavily, and clearly the kids were rubbing off on Logan, because Logan’s distinct thought was ‘mood’.

“Let me guess, Patton and Virgil have both gotten themselves into an anxious frenzy over the interview?”

Logan saw that Patton’s expression had become rather sheepish. Dillon knew him all too well.

“Yes, they’re pretty worked up about it.” Logan admitted. “Virgil is this close to buying a plane ticket to flying out of New York City first thing tomorrow to be by his boyfriend’s side, or getting the private jet to take us back. And Patton isn’t far behind. But I convinced them that we should communicate with one of you first, and make sure that it’s needed.”

Patton and Virgil were hanging on every word that was spoken, waiting to hear something that would reassure them, or prove them right.

“Tell them that while the gesture is appreciated, it’s unnecessary.” Dillon reassured Logan. “Roman and Remus are both doing fine. They talked about it, and now they’ve fallen asleep on the couch. I’d wake them up to talk to you, but I think that they both needed the rest. You should all finish the round of interviews up there, and we’ll be fine until you return.”

“That’s good to hear—” Logan agreed, but Patton interrupted.

“Tell Dill to take some photos, that sounds adorable!” Patton gushed. Virgil shrugged in agreement.

“Patton is demanding photographic evidence of this occurrence.” Logan informed his friend, smiling a little.

“I’ll send it once we finish talking here.”

“Splendid.” Logan said.

“Tell him I said thank you.” Patton told Logan. Logan nodded.

“Patton says to thank you for the photo in advance.” Logan said, passing on the message. Then Virgil finally spoke.

“Could you ask Dillon to have Roman call if he gets the chance?” Virgil asked nervously, wringing his hands.

“I will.” Logan promised, and returned to Dillon. 

“If he’s feeling up to it in the morning, however, would you mind having Roman call himself? I think both Patton and Virgil would feel a little better if they were to hear from him. If he isn’t, however, I believe hearing from Remus would suffice.” “I’ll ask as soon as they wake up.” Dillon promised.

“Good.” Logan said briefly. He was about to continue, but Patton stood up.

“It sounds like we’ve decided on staying then.” Patton said, matter of fact. Virgil made a face.

“Maybe you guys have,” Virgil muttered, “I’m still not sold on it.”

“Oh, don’t be such a Grumpy Gus.” Patton said, frowning.

“I’m not being grumpy, I’m just worried.” Virgil insisted, folding his arms. Logan sensed the beginning of an argument brewing, so he decided to cut in before it got worse.

“Why don’t you both get some sleep?” Logan suggested. “I think we’re all feeling rather stressed, and we do have a full day tomorrow.” Virgil looked like he was going to argue, then shrugged.

“Fine.” Virgil grumbled. “Sounds like you guys have made the decision for me anyways.” Patton stood up.

“Come on V,” Patton said, “I’ll make us some tea to make up for calling you a Grumpy Gus, how does that sound?”

“Logan, are you still there?” Dillon’s voice came through the phone, slightly startling Logan, who had briefly forgotten that Dillon was still on the line. 

“Yes, sorry about that.” Logan apologized, feeling embarrassed about leaving Dillon waiting like that. “Patton has just dragged Virgil off into his hotel room. I managed to convince them they both need to get some sleep, as it’s rather late here.” 

“Right, it’s almost 3:00 in the morning there, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be getting to bed too?”

“Yes, you are right about that.” Logan paused, then something occurred to him, “I did want to talk to you without the two of them present.” 

“What about?”  Logan sighed. So this is how they were playing this. He’d just have to be blunt.

“You’ve been very calm through our whole conversation,” Logan said gently, “which is unusual for you. Which means you’re plotting again.” “What? Me?” Dillon said, as innocently as he could manage, though Logan knew that they both knew that Dillon was full of crap. “I don’t plot. I do.” 

“You can’t get revenge on every reporter who asks a question that you don’t like.” Logan scolded.

“It’s more than just not liking the question and you know it, Logan.” Dillon argued. “Besides, I wouldn’t call it revenge. I’m simply going to use my status as one of Hollywood’s A-List celebrities to get an appearance on several of Osborne’s rival shows, as well as…  encouraging… my fellow stars to do the same. Maybe it won’t affect him at all, or maybe he’ll happen to get low ratings for a little bit. Maybe it’ll give him some time to think about why you shouldn’t ask invasive questions.” Logan groaned, but he knew that there was no stopping Dillon once he was set on a plan of action. And as Dillon’s plans of revenge usually went, this was actually fairly mild.

“Alright, I know I can’t stop you,” Logan conceded, “but as your friend, I’m asking you to be careful. The PR department already is going to have to do a lot of work to smooth things over after Remus stormed out. And his reaction tonight is only going to attract those who seek out drama. What I’m saying is that the last thing we need right now is a repeat of the Wine Incident from the Season Two interviews.” There was silence on Dillon’s end of the line, which let Logan know that his words had hit their mark. They didn’t talk about the Wine Incident.

“You’re right, I did go too far back then.” Dillon admitted, and Logan had to hold back a snort. ‘Too far’ was putting it somewhat mildly.

“But you don’t need to worry too much,” Dillon continued, “Remus is calm for now, but tensions are still high. I think I’m going to have my hands full with keeping him from decking any reporters who get nosy.”

“That’s good to hear.” Logan replied. Unexpectedly, he yawned. It caught him off guard, and for the first time it really began to sink in just how late it was. Dillon clearly heard the yawn too, from his next reply.

“You should get to bed.” Dillon suggested. “I hear you have a long day of interviews tomorrow.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Logan agreed. Another time, he might have argued that he would be fine, but he was too tired to. Though there was one more thing Logan needed to take care of. “If you need to talk about any of this, though, I’m here for you.”

“Me?” Dillon said in surprise. “I’m fine. Roman and Remus are the ones having to deal with their painful past being dragged back into the media’s line of fire.” “Dillon.” Logan said, not unkindly. “You may not be as entangled in it all as the two of them are, but I know it affects you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Remus is your husband, and Roman is practically your brother. And you’ve been there for both of them through a lot of the harder moments. Remus often tells me that he doesn’t think he would’ve made it through college alive without you. You’re just as invested in all of this. I know that if Patton was involved in something like this, it would affect me as well.”

What Logan didn’t say was, I know where you’re coming from. You and I, we’re problem solvers. We’re good at being emotional stabilizers for others. We’re good at taking on all of the problems of those we love, and being their constant. What we aren’t good at is letting people do that for us.

“You’re right.” Dillon admitted, and Logan smiled. There was a time nearly two decades ago that Dillon wouldn’t have admitted that so willingly. “I shouldn’t bottle up my feelings. I’ve told Pat that enough times and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t take my own advice. I am fine right now; I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Good.” Logan said, and hoped his tone got across how much he truly cared. For Dillon, and all the rest. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan saw Patton perched on the edge of the couch next to him. His fiance was dressed in his pajamas, and had two cups of tea in his hands. Patton smiled at Logan, and Logan realized that Patton was probably waiting for him. Logan saw the clock as well. It was already 3:00 in the morning.

“I should be off to bed.” Logan told Dillon.  “Please tell Roman and Remus we called, and we’re all here for them. For all of you.”

“I will.” Dillon promised, and the conversation ended. Logan hung up the phone, and turned to Patton, who pressed a mug of tea into his hand.

“Come on Lo,” Patton said, “Let’s get some rest.”

*************************************

Light streamed into the quiet hotel room. Not a single sound entered Logan’s ears except for the soft breathing of his fiance. Patton was snuggled into Logan’s side, arms wrapped around him. Everything was calm and peaceful compared to the panic of last night.

Or, this morning, to be more accurate.

Patton had been out as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Logan hadn’t been able to fall asleep for at least another hour. Actually, he couldn’t remember if he even had fallen asleep. But he must have, right? Logan would remember if he hadn’t.

Logan looked over Patton’s shoulder and saw that the clock on the nightstand currently read 9:01. Oh no. They’d totally overslept. Their first interview was supposed to be at 10:00, and they were told to be there by 8:00. Logan began to get up in a panic, accidentally jostling Patton awake.

“Lo?” Patton mumbled sleepily. “What’s going on?”

“It’s 9:00, and we’re supposed to already be at the television studio by now, and it’s a 20 minute drive without traffic, but this is NYC, so there will be traffic, and we still need to get dressed and—” Patton gently set a hand on Logan’s arm, which halted Logan’s rambling in its tracks.

“It’s fine, Lo.” Patton said calmingly.

“How can it be fine?” Logan demanded. “We can’t afford to be late, not after the bad press we’re likely to get from Remus’s interview last night, and this will look bad on us and the studio—”

“Lo.” Patton interrupted again. Patton sat up, and gently took Logan’s hands in his, and pulled Logan down so that he was sitting on the bed next to Patton. “It’s ok, honey. Thomas called about two hours ago. He’s had the PR department rearrange our interviews for today, so we don’t have to be at the first one until one. We can relax for a little longer.”

Logan felt his panic slowly fade, and leaned his forehead against Patton’s, letting Patton wrap his arms around him. Logan was so tired. Now that he knew that he didn’t need to rush out, he wanted to just fall asleep. But first, Logan needed to ask Patton something.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Logan murmured softly, pulling back and looking Patton directly in his eyes. Patton smiled.

“I thought about it, but I knew that you were still awake after I fell asleep, so you got even less sleep than Virgil and I did.” Patton said. “Virgil and I both agreed that we should let you sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Logan protested mildly. “I’ve gotten by on less sleep before.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.” Patton chided. “And I knew that if I woke you up then, you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.”

“It wouldn’t have been on purpose.” Logan mumbled.

“I know, honey. I knew that you can’t fall asleep during the day, but you would have been exhausted and irritable. You did such a good job of taking care of Virgil and I last night, so now let us take care of you. You can’t help anyone if you run yourself ragged, isn’t that what you always tell me?”

“You have a point.” Logan admitted.

“Besides,” Patton said with a smile, “I thought it might be nice to spend a lazy morning with my fiance.”

Logan’s eyes widened as he remembered, and he looked down at his hand. The silver ring with its two snakes entwined together sparkled in the light, the emerald eyes gleaming.

“I completely forgot about that.” Logan murmured in wonder. “With all the craziness last night, it slipped my mind.” “Mine too.” Patton said softly. “And I was the one who planned it.” 

Both men were lying back against the pillows now, Logan leaning into Patton’s side. They sat in silence for a bit, both looking at the ring on Logan’s hand.

“We’ll have to get you a ring too.” Logan said. “Maybe before we announce it.”

“When are we going to announce it?” Patton said softly. “I mean, with everything that’s happening right now.” Logan shrugged.

“Maybe we should wait until everything gets a little quieter, and everyone’s not so on edge.” Logan suggested. “Right now we need to focus on getting everything to calm down.”

“Yeah, I was kinda thinking the same thing.” Patton said. 

“But I think we’re headed in the right direction.” Logan said. “Dillon’s a lot calmer than he was the last time this happened. So, at least we don’t have to worry about another Wine Incident.”

“Thank goodness.” Patton said, shuddering. “That was a total mess to deal with.” “Figuratively and literally.” Logan agreed.

“It kinda looked like a scene from Carrie,” Patton recalled, “I’m not even sure where he got ahold of all of that wine so quickly.”

“It’s a good thing for the world that your brother is on the side of good.” Logan chuckled softly. “Otherwise, we’d all be in trouble.”

“Very true.” Patton agreed.

The two of them sat in silence again, but it was the comfortable kind. The kind you can only attain when with someone who you love and trust unconditionally, and who you know returns it. The silence was interrupted by the loud rumbling of Logan’s stomach.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry.” Patton said with a smile. “I haven’t eaten either, so why don’t we order room service?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Logan replied. “Then we can think about beginning to get ready for the interview.”

“We could,” Patton said, slowly, “but we still have a lot of time to fill before the interview…”

“I could think of a few things we could do to fill that time, darling.” Logan said suggestively, catching on to what Patton was suggesting.

Patton smiled back at Logan, and then leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Patton pulled back, and stood up.

“I’ll go get the room service menu, I think it got left in the living room.”

As Patton left, Logan smiled. He honestly didn’t know how on earth he got as lucky to end up with someone as wonderful as Patton. Logan didn’t know what he would do without him.

Patton was his center, his driving force. His calm in the middle of the storm.

 In a couple hours, they would need to get ready for the interview.

In a couple hours, they would need to talk to Virgil and review the document that Thomas had forwarded to them that outlined how they should handle any questions about Remus’s interview last night.

In a few hours, they would have to navigate an interview carefully and calmly, and refuse to rise to any bait that might be sent their way.

But for now, Logan and Patton could let things be calm, and take refuge in each other in the eye of a slowly gathering storm.

*************************************

Taglist:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus 

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

@voidvirgil

@dogwithpants

@dreaming-about-kittens

@ro-arts-blog

[hermannsthumb]

ok trying this again lol hopefully tumblr doesn't eat my message but i saw where you reblogged that halloween prompts last night and wanted to request "strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph" for newmann. the thought of hermann dressed as a woodland nymph is CUTE!! thank you, maria

from list of halloween prompts here

HEHE this one took me a while bc i’ve been slammed with a cold the past few days thats made me want to do nothing but like. lie in bed. HERE YOU GO ENJOY

———————————————

“Sexy fairy, huh?” Newt says.

The dude leaning against the wall lowers his drink and frowns. “Pardon?”

“Shit,” Newt says. “Hang on. Sorry.” He pulls out his plastic fangs and works his jaw a few times, then settles right back into his most charming smile. “I said sexy fairy, huh?”

“Oh,” the dude says. He looks down at himself–the illfitting white tunic, the tacky fake vines glued to it, his sandals (socks with sandals, actually, wow)–and gives a self-conscious tug at the equally tacky flower crown atop his head. He’s a real hottie. Big brown eyes, dark eyelashes, cheekbones–definitely Newt’s type. He’s surprised that no one else dove in to chat him up first. “I think it’s meant to be a nymph, actually. I bought it at the costume shop on the way here.”

He’s all posh and English. Newt wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks he can dig it. He leers. “So the sexy is all you, then?”

The nymph’s frown only deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean��” Newt sighs. “I was calling you sexy.”

“Oh,” the nymph says again. “Er. Thank you.”

They slip into uncomfortable silence. (Way to go, Newt. Struck out already.) “Are you here alone?” Newt tries again.

It’s the wrong thing to ask: the nymph makes a face and takes a long sip of his drink. (Purple, with weird foam on top, probably whatever’s sitting in the punchbowl marked Witch’s Brew.) “Yes,” he says. “I came with my date, but he–ah–”

His eyes drift to a guy in a semi-matching costume on the dance floor, who’s currently bumping up against some hunk dressed as a sexy pirate.“Ditched you?” Newt says.

The nymph makes a non-committed sound. His hand tightens around the head of his cane (which he’s also wound fake vines around–Newt appreciates the creativity). “I didn’t want to dance,” he says, and then it’s his turn to sigh. “We only met a week ago, on some moronic–dating app my sister insisted I try. I should’ve known he’d…”

That won’t do; Newt was trying to get the guy’s number, not send him spiraling into moodiness. “Hey, I’m here alone, too,” Newt says. “All alone.” He doesn’t even know the host–it’s one of Tendo’s exes, he thinks, who he may or may not have gotten sushi with one time years ago but never bothered unfriending on Facebook.

“Mm,” the nymph says. He gives Newt a long once-over. Newt wishes that he’d planned better, and worn something a little sexier than just standard vampire. (Like sexy pirate; the guy the nymph’s date latched onto instead had the right idea.) As is, he’s probably only passably sexy: his pants are tight enough, and his shirt is open enough, and he has enough glitter in his hair (because it’s fun) to light up like a fucking disco ball in the light. “I suppose you’re going to ask me for my mobile number now. Or offer to get me a drink, despite the fact that I clearly already have one.”

Newt grins goofily. “That was the plan.”

He get another long, considering stare. Then the nymph sets his drink down and clasps his free hand around Newt’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says.

“Cool,” Newt says. “Uh, are we going to the kitchen? I think it’s–”

They’re not going to the kitchen: they’re going to an empty broom closet. Newt can appreciate a forward-thinking man who knows what he wants.

“You ought to know,” the nymph gasps, tangling his fingers in Newt’s hair, “I don’t really do these sorts of things.”

“Really?” Newt says. He grins up at him, face inches from the guy’s stupid tighty-whiteys. “’Cause I do. You want me to put my fangs back in?”

“No. Ah–!”

***************************

Newt wakes up with a hangover (predictable), his phone buzzing off the side table with his alarm (annoying), and the strangest sensation that he met the love of his life last night (unexpected). The sensation is only amplified when he picks up his phone and sees that he’s, apparently, sent no less than five texts to his dad about it (his fucking dad, of all people, Newt needs some friends), but it quickly turns to dread when he sees the mess that is his poor forearm.

(“I’ve got a spot right here,” Newt slurred. After mutually-reciprocated hijinks in the closet, he and the nymph–who had told him his name at one point, Newt was sure, he just totally forgot–proceeded to get totally smashed off whatever the fuck Witch’s Brew was and then make out in the corner until Newt finally reminded him that he still wanted his phone number. The nymph was game. He was less game when Newt showed him where to write it in bold black Magic Marker one he rucked up his sleeve: his right forearm, between his jellyfish tattoo and his Godzilla tattoo, on a small patch of empty, freckled skin.

“Cute,” the nymph said, wryly.

He said it in a way that made it clear he didn’t think Newt’s tats were actually very cute. “I like them,” Newt said.

“Can’t I just–” the nymph was struggling with the marker, “–put it right in your, ah, phone?”

“This is more fun,” Newt said.”)

The number is nothing more than a smeary mess now–probably casualty to the massive rainstorm raging outside that, if Newt’s soaked pile of clothing on the floor means anything, has been raging since he stumbled home last night. 

He can’t even remember the guy’s name.

SOS, he ends up texting Tendo after a healthy amount of coffee and Tylenol. hooked up with super hot guy at a party last night and have no fucking clue how to see him again and i think i might be in love. help

you’re almost forty, Tendo replies, which is no help and isn’t at all the sick burn Tendo probably thought it was.

Newt resorts to stalking Tendo’s ex’s Facebook page instead. For anything, really. There are only a few photos up from the party last night (so far, anyway), and most of them are focused on the dance floor and the guy’s friends. Newt clicks through obsessively anyway. The ornate Jack-O-Lanterns that’d been on the front porch, Tendo’s ex and some chick in zombie makeup, the punchbowl of foaming purple Witch’s Brew, and–finally, in the very back corner of a shot–Newt standing with his mystery man. Tacky crown and all. He exists, at least, not some extremely specific hallucination on Newt’s part, even though a reverse image search turns up with absolutely nothing but links to buy his costume. 

He has better luck with a blurry photo of his mystery guy’s (deadbeat) date laughing in the kitchen under the bright orange string lights: Tendo’s ex actually tagged him. Probably because he wasn’t totally crashing the party after seeing a post about it like Newt was. Newt’s luck pretty much stops there; not only does the guy make no mention of the nymph Newt spent the night with when Newt stalks his page, but he hasn’t updated his status in literally six months, and none of his friends (because Newt combs through his friends list, too) look remotely like Newt’s mystery man.

So. Newt sends him a friend request.

He accepts it in the amount of time it takes Newt to take to feed his fish, heat up a tiny bowl of spaghetti-o’s, and regret sending it in the first place; he almost spills the bowl over his laptop in his hurry to send a message. Hey, weird question, but who’d you bring to that party last night?

lol why?

“I’m in love with him” is definitely a little forward, so Newt makes up a fast, and hopefully at least mildly believable, lie. He has my umbrella.

Typing for a while. tbh idrk him, we met online. his name was hermann

Then: i think hes a teacher or something

who are you anyway? comes a second later.

Hermann. Newt likes it. It also rings a very, very vague bell. cool thanks! Newt sends back, and then quickly unfriends the guy. Anyone who could possibly ditch a guy as hot and funny and, overall, perfect as Hermann (as Newt remembers him, anyway) is not worth Newt’s time.

exciting update, he texts Tendo. his name is Hermann!

Newt has a lecture to teach at six, three hours from now, so in lieu of actually preparing for it, he decides to be a creepy stalker instead. Hermann’s date said he was a teacher: none of the local public schools have a Hermann (or a Herman, for that matter) on any of their staff pages, K all the way up to Twelve, nor do the private schools. He has better luck when he pokes through staff directories for nearby universities instead: this gives him two Hermans and one Hermann, but neither of their provided pictures look remotely like Newt’s Hermann. Not even when Newt squints.

He spares another miserable glance at the smeary ink on his arm before shutting his laptop. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.

He’s walking to campus from his bus stop the following week–the day before Halloween–when the most fucking unbelievable thing in the world happens.

He sees Hermann.

Just sitting outside the campus coffee shop at a little table, sipping a paper travel mug dotted with little orange pumpkins. Reading over some notes. Newt’s sure it’s Hermann: it’s Hermann’s big brown eyes, Hermann’s long eyelashes, Hermann’s sharp cheekbones, Hermann’s cane propped against the brick wall next to him. Newt’d recognize him even with the stupid nymph costume swapped for more sensible sweatervest and tweed. “Hermann!” he shouts excitedly, waving both arms. “Dude!”

Hermann looks up. He drops his coffee.

He’s completely speechless when Newt finally manages to book it across the street (dodging traffic, including the bus he came in on) and collapse, panting, into the empty seat across from him. “I can’t believe it’s you!” Newt says. “Holy shit, dude! I’ve been trying like crazy to track you down. I lost your number, so I had to message your shitty boyfriend–”

“Not my boyfriend,” Hermann says, faintly.

“Right, your shitty date,” Newt corrects. “You look so good. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the leaves. I’m so glad I found you. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Hermann blinks a few times. Registering it all. “I work–” He says, and gestures to the stairs that lead up to the main part of campus. “Er, here. Physics. I teach physics.”

That explains why Newt couldn’t find him on any faculty pages–he just assumed that Hermann couldn’t possibly be working at the same university as him and didn’t bother checking. He though he would’ve remembered seeing a face like that around. Physics, though, makes sense–it’s not like they’d be in the same building. “I do too!” Newt says. He leans in, beaming away. “Well, not physics, biology. I can’t remember if I told you my name or not. It’s Newt. Dr. Geiszler, if you wanna be serious, but I’m pretty sure we’re way beyond that at this point.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. “No, you didn’t say your name.” He blinks a few more times before finally seeming to get over his shock, and it’s replaced with mild amusement instead. A small smile. “You’re a doctor?”

“Are you that shocked?”

“You’re not very–” Hermann does a very bad job of disguising his laugh as a cough. “Professional. You know–at the, ah, party, you really should’ve just let me–”

“I know,” Newt says, and Hermann’s smile grows.

“Writing it on your arm was a terrible idea,” Hermann says. “I was horribly offended, you know, when you didn’t call the next day.”

Newt fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and offers it out to Hermann with a grin. “Looks like I won’t be making the same mistake twice, then.”

[stuffofsin]

Omni - BNHA various x Reader PART 1

WARNINGS: Swearing and random shit :3 

This is just PART 1 when second parts out I will let you know

(Honestly scared hhhh)

Sorry reader is female... soz people :(

If you are wondering Omni means all :3

(You should know the keys by now...)

also, idk what happened to my writing style here cause it sounds to fancy for me

I also skipped the entrance exams cause... that's too much effort AND tell me who should be a love interest or love rivals cause im a clueless bean

NOW HERE WE GOOOOO

I guess it's in the third person/first? idk it's confusing me

powers - scarlet witch and future vision (only activates in sleep atm)

_______________________________________________________________________

A peaceful morning, the light of the sun peering into the room, all is cal—

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEE-

"ughhhhh" a girl groans as she hits the alarm, breaking it in the process 'ughh now I need to get a new one...' she thought. As she gets up as slowly as possible, 'wait what day is it? why did I have my alarm set?' "WAIT ITS MONDAY" she yelled. Rushing to get up, and get all her stuff ready seeing as she forgot to do so the night before too tired to care, grabbing her notebooks and grabbing her bag.

"SHIT SHIT SHIT" she shouts running out her bedroom with her uniform on, running to the kitchen and getting some toast and throwing it in her mouth. Running her hand through her Blonde hair to flatten it out (I have short hair so if you do too just ignore) and ran out the house, she ran all the way to the train station and sat patiently waiting for the train to arrive while eating her toast. 

Time skip seeing as im just writing random stuff now

Your POV

'hm wonder what's gonna happen today? my future vision didn't activate last night... I wonder what's wrong with it (I know kinda bullshit but like... I can't explain right now)' I think as I walk through the entrance of UA, 'oh my god I can't believe I got in, oh god  what if the people in my class don't like me ahhhhhh' I think panicing. I look down at my schedule,

Class 1-A

Homeroom - Aizawa - (insert room number here?)

(insert other classes here)

'ok ok ok ok ok OK, I think I know where to goooo... maybeeee... ughhh im the worst with directions, they really should have guides at every turn just so new kids can't get lost' I think walking through the seemingly endless corridor, till finally, I FOUND IT. I look at the time and see there's still at least 5 minutes till class started so I just try to find a seat, as im walking around the classroom for that PERFECT seat I see a guy with blue hair and glasses scolding this other guy for having his feet on the table? wtf? WAIT I FOUND A GOOD TABLE!

'awawawawawawawawa' I think as I rush to that seat before anyone else could even think about claiming my territory, as I get there the door opens again, a boy with... green hair???? ok then also what's up with the freckles I mean they make him look cute but... nevermind, suddenly I hear that guy with the glasses say "it's him" WHOS HIM??? (I should prob mention you forget things easily) WHO IS THIS PRECIOUS LOOKING BOI??? will this question ever get answered? idk, whelp 'OH SHIT THE WHOLE CLASS IS JUST QUIET AND LOOKING AT HIM WHAT HE DOOO??' I think as I too join in on staring at the broccoli boi, like legit he broccoli... that's just what imma call him now. "UMMM HI?!" he says nervously, my god that's kinda... cute? shit, just then the blue-haired... 'wait WHY DIDN'T I QUESTION THE HAIR BEFORE???' walks up to him honestly the most hilarious movement I have seen in a while like shit. oop now he's introducing himself but I ain't bothered to listen to him imma just not talk to people today... yeah that sounds great I can talk to them tomorrow or something... 'wait... what if people try to interact with me??!' you then panic and blame your social anxiety for not letting you interact with people like a normal person.

'broccoli boi looks nervous... honestly same' then my mind wonders to some funny shit I found on Tumblr 'hhehe... sand is heterosexual glitter heheh...  WAIT OH ME GAH CUTE GIRL ENTERING..! wait broccoli boi blushing... hmmMMM' "If you're here to just make friends then you can pack up your stuff now"... 'is that a caterpillar? shit nevermind that's our teacher... he looks intimidating...' "welcome to UA's hero course... it took 8 seconds before you all shut up, that's not gonna work" this... Caterpillar man says as he gets out of a sleeping bag. "Time is precious, rational students would understand that... Hello im Shota Aizawa your teacher" he says looking at the class tired af, shit he's more tired than me...

"right let's get to it, put these on and head outside," he says pulling out a gym uniform from his sleeping bag, idk if we can all fit in that one uniform bu- nevermind there's enough for all of us im dumb.

_______________________________________________________________________

imma just leave it at this since im tired

Hope y'all enjoyed this part

critics on how I write appreciated

hhh im dead honestly...

but yeah should it just be some boys x reader or all the boys, including some girls here and there idk, I was planning on just calling the mc (main character for the uncultured) pansexual cause... that's how I identify... idk up to you,

I will write the next chapter at a point in time cause yeah... I got one day left of school for the term so hopefully, update soon!... that's fun...

hope y'all have a good night/day

Part 1 of ?

[sprnklersplashes]

Forever Young

AO3

On May 18th, Storybrooke gathers together to celebrate one of the most important days-Hope Swan-Jones' birthday.

Normally, like every other teenager on the planet, Hope hates mornings. She definitely takes after her mother in that regard, pulling the blanket over her head and groaning after snoozing the alarm once, twice, three times. Gideon had taken the liberty of moving it across her bedroom so that she’d have to actually get out of her bed to turn it off, but he apparently forgot she has magic and can snooze it with a flick of her wrist.

Today though, well, it’s not really an exception. It’s different, meaning she only snoozes it once before getting up. After all, today’s special, as shown on the screen of her phone and the date on her calendar, circled in green marker.

Saturday, May 18th. Her birthday.

She flings the covers off and rolls out of bed. The first thing she does is run over to the full length mirror in the corner of her room. She turns around, examining herself from every angle. Her red waves are wild and seemingly untameable, just like they always are in the mornings, and she’s still small and slightly pale (unfortunately, her hair colour comes with snow white skin-and it suits her grandmother far far more than it does her), same scattering of freckles and green eyes that everyone says are a double of her mother’s. It’s the exact same face and body she had when she was 14.

She’s not sure why she’s disappointed. Logically, she should know that nothing would have changed overnight. She knows for sure what she’d have liked to have happened; for her to grow at least an extra inch and for her hair to be more manageable and for the apple cheeks that made her look 12 to finally disappear. For her to look older, she supposes.

She hears her family getting ready downstairs, the bathroom door opening and closing outside, and shrugs it off. Maybe her magical teenage growth spurt will come later (and in this town, you never know). For now it was time to get on with her day. After all, you only turn 15 once.

After throwing on her uniform, running a brush through her hair and pulling it into a braid, she opens her door to head downstairs, only to find Gideon coming out of his room at the exact same time. And all at once, she feels her body ready to leap into action. Like she’s a lion and he is a limping gazelle.

“Gideon!” she shouts, her voice squeaking, and throws herself at him until he hits the wall with an audible thump. She presses her chin to his chest and looks up at him, laughing as he adjusts his glasses. “Know what day it is?”

“The day I finally see Doctor Whale about the injuries you’re definitely causing to my spine?” he groans, but he’s laughing too.

“Nope,” she replies, shaking her head, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “It’s my birthday!”

“Oh, is it?” he asks. She lets him go, but the bouncing doesn’t stop, like something is running and fizzing through her veins. Actually something might well be; her magic isn’t always under control, especially if she’s feeling strong emotions. “I forgot. And I have this thing on today.”

“No you do not,” she tells him, poking his chest.

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, slinging an arm around her shoulders. They walk down to the kitchen together, where her parents and Belle are already present. Among the usual sounds of the radio playing old pop songs her mom loves, plates being moved around and the fridge opening and closing, Hope hears the unmistakable around of batter sizzling in a frying pan, and she shares a grin with Gideon.

“Race you!” she says, pushing him and taking the stairs two at a time even though he keeps walking, having never actually agreed to race.

She throws herself into the kitchen with all the grace of an excited puppy whose owners just came home, flinging her hair dramatically over her shoulders for good measure. At the stove, her dad grins, eyes still on the pancakes, but his shoulders shake from laughing. She looks around expectantly, briefly wondering where her mom is, eyeing the two adults in the room hopefully.

“Morning, Hope,” Aunt Belle greets, pulling her into a light hug. “And happy birthday, love.”

“Thanks Aunt Belle,” she replies. She runs over to the cupboard, grabs a plate and heads to the stove. Her dad looks at her out of the corner of his eye as she scans the pancake ingredients around the stove. Jug of batter, blueberries, raspberries, syrup-

“Where’s the chocolate chips?” she asks. “I can’t have pancakes without chocolate chips.”

“Well, theoretically you could,” he says, but a pout from her silences him. “But your mum’s off to get them-” His voice trails off as he hears a car door close outside, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “And it seems she’s just in time.”

Her mom comes in, discarding her red leather jacket, holding not one, but two bags of chocolate chips in her hand. Her face lights up when she sees Hope, standing expectantly with her plate next to the stove.

“You, miss, are very lucky the grocery store is open in the mornings,” she tells her, hitting her head gently with the bags. “And that no one was around to ask me why I was buying chocolate chips at this hour.”

“Thank you, Mom,” she replies, smiling at her, batting her eyelashes for the full effect. Her mom laughs and places a kiss on the top of her head.

“Happy birthday, kid,” she says, a smile on her face to match Hope’s. She hands Hope the bag of chocolate chips and her dad steps back to allow her to pour them onto the two waiting pancakes. She drops more than generous handfuls onto them, chuckling as her dad winces slightly.

“I have to turn them over, love,” he reminds her when she begins getting a little adventurous.

“Wow Hope,” Gideon says dryly from the doorway. “Want some pancake with your chocolate chips?” She sticks her tongue out at him, waggling it for good effect.

“Hey,” her mom reminds her. “Manners.” But Gideon’s smile shows he’s in no way offended. Especially since he scrunches up his own face when all three adults have their backs turned.

After finishing off their pancakes-chocolate chip for Hope and blueberry for Gideon-and brushing their teeth, the loud, fast knock at their door can only belong to one person. Right on time, slightly unusual for him. Her uncle usually can’t keep track of time if his life depended on it. But when they open the door, sure enough, Lucas is standing on the doorstep, hands behind his back.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly, looking at Gideon rather than Hope, his cheeks pink and eyes shining. Hope rolls her eyes. They’ve been officially “a couple” for two months, but she still has to deal with this sappy mess every morning.

“Hi,” Gideon replies, smiling softly.

“Hey,” Hope says, breaking the unspoken communication between them. Admittedly, it was kind of weirdly sweet to watch her brother and uncle make doey eyes at each other. She guesses that’s what it feels like at that point. Not that she’d know.

“Hey birthday girl,” Lucas greets. He takes his arm out from behind him, holding out a small pink gift bag. Hope’s mouth falls open and she lets out a laugh. “Consider this a sneak preview of what’s coming tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Lucas,” she says, taking the bag gently. “You know you didn’t need to do this.”

“Of course I did, you’re my favourite niece,” he says. “Go on, open it. It’s more than a cute bag.” She shares a grin with him and opens it, pulling away the white tissue inside to get to the real present; a small wooden fairy door, painted dark blue and covered in gold glitter, Hope’s name written in silver cursive writing on a white wooden plaque above it.

“Lucas,” she says, unsure of what to say. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Thanks,” he replies, blushing slightly. “I mean it’s nothing really.” Hope knows he’s lying, seeing his ‘tell’-a lack of eye contact and hands in his pockets. This isn’t nothing.

“It’s awesome, Luke,” she says.

“What’s awesome?” her mom asks from behind her. “Being on time for school is awesome, you know.”

“Mom, look what Lucas got me,” she says. When she sees it, her mom’s face lights up, looking from the door to her brother.

“That’s pretty great, Lucas,” she tells him, making him look at the ground, swinging his and Gideon’s intertwined hands. “Why don’t I put this in your room for you. That way you guys can get to school on time.”

They nod and bid Emma goodbye before heading off to school, Lucas and Gideon still holding hands.

“So Hope, how does it feel being 15?” Lucas asks.

“Weirdly, I don’t feel different,” she confesses. “Should I?”

“Nah,” he replies, waving his free hand. “You won’t feel the crushing weight of your own morality until you’re 16.” Gideon digs his boyfriend in the ribs, laughing.

“And then when you’re 17 it’s an existential crisis, according to Alex,” Gideon says. “It’s not too bad, kid.”

Hope nods, thinking about the year she’d had. Being born in May meant she had watched all her friends turning 15 before her. She had viewed turning 15 as a right of passage, moving away from your awkward preteen years and into a fully fledged teenager, the next step towards adulthood. But now, especially in her school uniform with the skirt reaching to her knees (while her grandmother was quite relaxed about it, Mrs Hubbard, their vice principal, was adamant that the skirts be regulation length) and pink hair tie, she still feels like a kid. She touches the edge of her hair tie gently. She hadn’t thought much when she put it on that morning, not even noticing the colour, but now she regrets it painfully.

Letting her arm dangle by her side, she waves her wrist gently and smiles as the hair tie changes from pink to black.

“Morning, people!” a voice calls just before they reach the school. All three turn their heads to see a slightly out of breath Philip jogging towards them. He pushes his too-long black hair out of his eyes and gives them a welcoming smile.

“Hey, Phil,” Lucas greets, bumping his fist against his. Hope wrinkles her nose. She supposes she’ll never get teenage boys.

“Happy birthday, Hope,” he says. “My parents are going to your thing tonight so your pres-” He cuts himself off, wincing.

“You weren’t meant to tell me that, were you?” she asks, giggling.

“No I was not,” he confirms with a grimace. Sometimes they had joked that Philip and Lucas must have been switched as babies, given they were only born two days apart, since Philip can’t keep a secret. The four of them laugh it off, crossing the courtyard under the May sunshine and into the school.

Inside, Hope stands at her locker, putting books in and out, while stopping to thank people who wished her a happy birthday. As the Saviour’s daughter and Snow White’s granddaughter, she was as close to a celebrity as she could be in Storybrooke; and everyone knew when her birthday was. Most of her classmates had either attended her naming ceremony as babies or their mothers had been pregnant with them at the time. There’s a photo in the living room on the day of her naming ceremony of her in her mom’s arms, Gideon in Belle’s, Lucas in Snow’s, Robin in Zelena’s and a lot of other babies with their moms. And with fame came frankly, more attention than she’s comfortable with. Especially since for a lot of those kids barely spoke to her outside of her birthday.

“Heyo,” someone says from behind her, followed by a word not appropriate for school. She knows who it is before she turns around. Robin Mills leans against one of the lockers, presenting her with a huge candy bar and a card in a pale blue envelope.

“Robin!” she squeaks. “Thank you.” She slides the chocolate into her bag and opens up the card, which displays a picture of a bowl of peas with the phrase ‘Ha-pea Birthday’ written in black block lettering. She looks up at Robin. “Did you pick this?”

“Hey, me and Alex spent a long time in that card shop!” she insists. Sure enough, when Hope opens the card, it reads; ‘To Hope, Happy 15th girl. Go crazy. From, Robin and Alex.’ “Unfortunately she had cheer practice this morning. But she wants me to convey the birthday wishes. So you know…” She waves her arms around awkwardly. “Wishes conveyed.”

“Thank you, Robin,” she says sincerely.

“Of course,” she says. She opens her mouth as if to ask something, but suddenly looks over Hope’s shoulder, her tongue darting out to the corner of her mouth. Hope can’t even ask before she hears another, unmistakable voice behind her.

“Hey Hope!” She jumps and turns around to see Melody Fisher, Ariel’s daughter, just behind her. Today she’s tying her hair back with a lilac ribbon, in a low ponytail, and wearing tiny silver dolphin earrings. And smiling. She’s always smiling, and it sends Hope’s heart into overdrive.

“Hi Melody,” she says in an attempt to be casual.

“Hi,” she says again. “Um, happy birthday.”

“Oh, thanks,” she replies, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah I’m not trying to make a big deal out of it…”

“Oh,” Melody replies, her face falling slightly. “Well, I hope it’s not too much, but I got you this.” She holds out a box wrapped in blue paper. “Just a little something, it’s really not that great.”

“Thanks,” she says, taking it from her after a brief hesitation. “Thanks so much, you really didn’t have to do that.” She unwraps it, her fingers seemingly forgetting to work. She feels her face get warm and hopes she isn’t blushing. When she gets the paper off, she finds it to be a box of colouring pencils. Hope lifts the lid and runs her finger down them; they’re strong and sturdy, and she can tell just by looking at them they’re vibrant.

“I mean I know you like art,” Melody explains. “And I thought that-”

“They’re awesome!” Hope interrupts. “They’re awesome, Melody. Thank you, thank you so much.” She and Melody laugh, and Hope tries not to focus on her eyes. Her perfect eyes that sparkle when she laughs. Melody scratches the back of her neck, chewing her lip slightly.

“Um, I should get to my homeroom,” she says.

“Yeah, of course, yeah,” Hope says. “And, thanks. Again. These are… these are great.” Melody nods and gives her a small wave before heading down the hall. Hope’s eyes follow her, her heart fluttering as she goes. She bites her lip, the butterflies in her stomach going crazy.

“Wow,” Robin says, looking between her and Melody. “You have it so bad.”

“You have it bad,” she shoots back, which only makes Robin chuckle.

“Gosh, Hope, just ask the poor girl out,” she tells her.

“Seriously?” Hope splutters. “First off, how do you even know I like her?” Robin raises her eyebrows but remains silent. “Second off, even if I did like her, I don’t know if she likes girls. Or you know, likes me.”

“Aw, kid,” she says, patting her cheek. Hope scowls and wriggles away from her. “Trust me, she does.”

“Really?” she asks, her voice much higher than usual.

“Yeah, really.” She taps the box of pencils in Hope’s hand. “No one goes out and buys that for someone they don’t like.” Hope looks down at them, trying not to smile. Her hands shake and she holds the box tighter, like it’s Melody herself. Before she can ask anything else, the bell rings. “And I have to get to class.”

“Me too,” Hope sighs, closing her locker. “See you later.”

“Happy birthday kid,” she says again, wrapping her in a quick, light, one armed hug before heading off to homeroom.

Much later on, after school and homework and the usual “how was your day”, Hope and the rest of her family (often dubbed the Swan-Jones-French clan, which was fine for all parties involved) were making their way to Granny’s diner, Hope dressed in black jeans with a gold thread running up the sides, a crisp white shirt and red boots, a compromise she and her parents agreed on. If she had it her way, she’d be wearing overalls and a hoodie, but sadly, she can’t have everything. The fourth in line for the throne can’t be seen at her own birthday party in paint-splattered jeans.

The inside of Granny’s is spectacularly lit up, tables pushed to the side to accommodate the guests who had joined for her birthday. Hope pulls at her shirt, shrinking back a little into her family. All eyes being on her wasn’t an entirely comfortable experience. Frankly, she was more excited for tomorrow night when it would be her and a few good friends wreaking havoc in her living room. Guests are packed wall to wall, all here to celebrate the Princess’ birthday. A silver banner saying “Happy Birthday Hope” in large, colourful letters hands from the ceiling, rainbow coloured balloons sit in the corners and dotted around the room.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Granny says from the side, standing behind the counter.

“Thank you Granny,” she replies sincerely. She looks to the side, where the buffet of hot food sits on the counter, dishes full of fries, burgers, chicken strips and wings, onion rings (no doubt requested by her mom) and tries not to stare at it, but she is hungry and this is likely going to be the highlight of the night.

“Come on, let’s get some food,” her mom says, apparently reading her mind. At the bar, Hope piles her plate with a bit of everything she can, despite Gideon telling her she can come back for seconds if she wants. This is far from her first rodeo and she knows that the chicken wings especially go quickly. She piles up her plate and slides into a booth with her parents and Aunt Belle, her mom’s plate looking similar to her own.

Philip and his parents pass their table, Aurora with a small box wrapped in blue paper.

“Oh my gosh, Philip!” she says, her voice high and laced with sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were coming here!” Her mom laughs and has to disguise it with a drink.

“You blabbed, didn’t you?” Aurora asks fondly, ruffling his hair, making Philip scrunch up his face. “Anyway, now that we have you, is it okay to give presents now?”

“Don’t see why not,” Emma says. Aurora beams and hands Hope over the box.

“Philip pushed us in the right direction,” she says, rubbing her son’s back fondly. Philip hides his smile beneath his hair as Hope tears off the wrapping paper. Inside is two novels, one with a blue cover depicting a silhouette of a tree, and the other with a dark red cover with a silver sword.

“Oh my god!” Hope exclaims, reading the spines. “Renee Hamilton? I love these books; how did you know I love these books?”

“Because you were reading one last week and you said loudly, to all of us, ‘I love these books’,” Philip replies dryly, but smiling.

“Thank you,” she says, laughing. She looks past him to his relieved parents. “Thank you so much.”

From then, the rest of the room takes the cue to start handing out their own presents. A new jacket from Ella, Thomas and Alexandra (which matches the one of Alex’s that she had been admiring), pyjamas and watercolour paints from her grandparents and Lucas, a snow globe of Oz from Robin and Zelena (assured her, and more importantly her family, that she did not trap the inhabitants of Oz in a snow globe), and a new notebook from Thomas, Ella and Alexandra.

“Okay, here,” Belle says, handing her over a box wrapped in green sparkly paper. “This is from me and Gideon.” Hope catches Gideon’s eye. Despite how much they argue, he always manages to get her exactly what she wanted. Not just her, anyone he buys something for.

When she sees what’s underneath the wrapping paper, it seems he’s done it again; she finds a box containing bright red sneakers, ones she had stared at unsubtly in a catalogue. She knows they came straight from New York. She touches the white edges gently, flicking the toe of them. They’re tough, but somehow soft at the same time, and they have that amazing new shoe smell. They look too perfect to wear, but she can’t wait to get them on, her current sneakers suddenly feeling too tight and uncomfortable.

“Okay, why don’t you put them on?” her mom says fondly. “Since you’re clearly dying to?”

Hope doesn’t need to be told twice. She takes off her boots and slides the sneakers on, tying the laces tightly in a double knot, jumping up, bouncing, testing them out. They fit perfectly, like they were made just for her.

“Thank you,” she says to Belle and Gideon, not stopping her bouncing. “Thank you thank you thank you.” If she wasn’t in public, she’d hug them. Belle however seems to read her mind and hugs her tightly.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly.

“Anything for you, kid,” Gideon says, smiling. She’ll hug the hell out of him later tonight, he can count on that.

“And finally,” her mom says from behind. She turns around to see her dad carrying in a long, flat box covered in pink wrapping paper and setting it on the bar with a flourish. “The one from Mom and Dad.” Hope bites her lip, grinning as she runs over to the bar and pulls herself onto the stool, tearing the paper from the bottom up. She rips it away to reveal a smooth dark wooden box. After laying her hand on it and knocking, trying to guess what’s inside, she flips the two little golden latches and opens it.

What’s inside takes her breath away. Resting on a dark red velvet bed, a black handled sword, its curved blade tucked inside a metal sheath. The light catches on the handle, making it shine in all the colours of the rainbow. She runs her finger along the handle, the rest of the room silent.

“Can I…” she whispers, looking to her dad.

“Of course.”

Her hand curls around the handle and her other hand around the leather sheath, lifting it out of the box. She secures the sheath against her waist, fitting snuggly there like it was made specially for her, tailored to every curve and flaw of her body.

When she lifts the sword out, it comes out in one swift action. The blade is so clean she can see her reflection, the sharp edges gleaming in the overhead light. It looks harmless, beautiful and alluring, almost silver, but she doesn’t even need to touch the edges to know it would cut through her skin like it was paper.

“Woah,” she breathes.

“You bought her a sword?” she hears her grandfather ask, and it’s at that moment she becomes re-aware of the fact she’s not alone. She slides the sword back into its sheath without a word.

“Technically it’s a cutlass,” her dad replies, draining his glass of lemonade.

“It’s still a weapon,” he points out.

“Well, every kid should know how to use one at some point,” her mom explains. “Especially in this family.” Her grandfather opens his mouth, as if to protest, but seems to think the better of it and closes it. She slides the sword into its sheath, the weight against her hip somehow comforting.

“That’s so cool,” Lucas says, sitting at the bar next to where her dad put the box down. “Can I-”

“Absolutely not, Lucas!” her grandmother interrupts. “You still have the scar from your last sword related adventure.”

“Mom, Dad,” Hope says, after laughing just a little at Lucas. “Thank you, thank you so much.” She forgets stupid things like dignity and reputation and hugs them around the waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“We knew you’d like it, Cygnet,” her mom says, stroking her hair. “Now we can start real fighting lessons,” she whispers, out of earshot of her grandparents.” Hope grins and buries her face in her mom’s chest, making the group hug as tight as she possibly can. “And there’s one more…”

“Happy birthday to you!” Hope’s face floods red as she turns around to the entire diner serenading her. “Happy birthday, dear Hope!” Granny comes in from the kitchen with one of the waiters, carrying a towering three-layered chocolate cake, covered in different types of candy, with a 15 candle and a sparkler on the top. As it gets closer, she can see the intricate details on it; small marzipan bunnies and edible trees, a pumpkin sitting at the bottom and despite everything, she throws her head back and squeals in delight, her cheeks turning pink.

God damn it, she loves her family. Her crazy, huge family.

“Come on kid, blow out those candles,” Granny tells her. “Don’t want wax dripping onto that cake.”

“Make a wish, kid,” her mom tells her, pressing her lips to her head before letting her go. Hope steps up to it, the glow of the candles lighting up her face as she thinks about a wish, knowing not to waste it on something stupid like good grades or a pony.

A face catches her attention beside her and inspiration strikes.

I wish I could ask Melody out she thinks, blowing out the candle. The diner bursts into applause while Granny starts cutting the cake.

“Do I get to know what you wished for?” her mom asks, hugging her from behind.

“Of course not. I need it to come true,” she replies. She notices a small white card on the bottom of the cake and frowns, taking note of the cursive writing in silver. She steps out of her mom’s embrace and picks it up, wiping chocolate off it.

To Hope/Cygnet/Birthday Girl

So sorry I couldn’t be with you on your actual birthday. Unfortunately I’m tied up in LA on set. I wish I could be there to see you turning 15. Still, I hope the cake I ordered to be made from LA’s best chefs and sent to Storybrooke will satisfy until I get there.

Your big (always big) brother, Henry.

Hope turns to face her mom, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you know about this?” she asks, showing her the card.

“Not until this morning when he told me,” she replies, shrugging. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here.”

“It’s fine,” Hope says. “Not his fault. And anyway… this is a pretty great present.”

“Yeah it is,” she chuckles. “Speaking of, why don’t you get in there before Lucas and Philip demolish it?” Hope turns around and nods. She knows from experience what they’re like with food. Plus it’s her cake and she’s determined to try every layer. She makes to run over to it but pauses in her tracks. She turns back to her mom, who is smiling at the little card Henry made her. Her mom, her funny, comforting mom who always knows what to say to her. Her mom, who got her the most amazing sword for her birthday and went out to get her chocolate chips specially and bought rainbow laces just last week like she knew Hope would be getting new sneakers.

“Hey mom?” she says, making her look up. She balls her hands into fists and sticks them in the pockets of her jacket. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cygnet,” she says.

Smiling, and her heart pounding, Hope takes a more than generous slice of cake and slides into a booth with her friends, eating and laughing until her stomach hurts and then eating some more because she can, and no one is going to tell her no, setting up an impromptu tic tac toe tournament and doing stupid, food related dares.

She’s still a kid, after all.

[feroluce]

TatST - Ch 1: Secrets

For Day 1: Secrets of Ritshou Summer Week by @shouritshou! Please enjoy the first chapter of Together at the Same Time!

Warnings: Major character death, violence, injuries, blood, concussions

Shou is acting weird. Like, weird even for Shou.

Ritsu wakes up to the smell of meat cooking in his nose. 

He fumbles for his phone, something that's become the first part of his daily routine since he convinced his parents to get it for him last year. A quiet chime plays as it unlocks, Ritsu sleepily rubbing at his eyes until his ceiling looks less blurred. He can already see out his glass door that it's going to storm later...maybe he'll just stay in bed for a while longer. He can still smell breakfast cooking and it's making his stomach growl, but he doesn't want to leave his warm bed yet. Ritsu pulls the blankets up to his ears as he rolls onto his stomach and tries to ignore the little pang in his heart when there are no new messages from Shou. Because really, it shouldn't be that much of a let down. He's probably not even awake yet. Shou tends to stay up late and sleep in late, doubly so on weekends. So it's completely normal to not have a new message and he shouldn't be so disappointed. Ritsu's phone signals a new text message and he snatches it up to check his notifications in record time. Dammit. Damn Shou and his handsome face and his cute freckles and the new pang in Ritsu's heart that is the exact opposite of disappointment but just as unwelcome and painful. Shou: We're going somewhere today! I'll come pick you up! Shou: And don't skip bfast it's bad for you The first one isn't unusual. Shou is restless and he is always finding something to do. The second text, though, is...oddly specific. Ritsu widens out his psychic senses just to make sure Shou isn't hiding somewhere with his invisibility (which also isn't unusual). He can't Feel Shou sneaking around anywhere, although that doesn't always mean anything. His ability to hide his presence rivals Shigeo's and supposedly Reigen's.

Reinvigorated with the promise of an adventure, Ritsu rolls himself out of bed and drags his feet across the carpet. He wonders if he should bother to bring an umbrella or not. It might just be in the way.

Shou: Don't bring your umbrella btw you'll just lose it

Shou: And wear shoes without laces

Ritsu sticks his head into Shigeo's room on his way by, just to make sure Momozou hadn't come by to visit without him knowing. There's only one futon on the floor, though, with one head of black hair poking out. Telepathy and invisibility make for a horrifying stealth combo.

Me: Why are you being so specific.

Shou: Just a feeling

Shou: Don't worry about it

Ritsu is torn between not worrying about it and knowing better until he walks in on Shou in the middle of picking his outside door’s lock.

“Ricchan! Lemme in, we're going somewhere today and we need to get going!” Shou looks up at him from where he's kneeling and his stupid grin is so bright that Ritsu wonders for a moment if the storm clouds cleared up. And he considers it, he really does…

“Why should I?” But sometimes Ritsu feels like being difficult.

“C'mon, I came all the way out here! Don't be a dick.”

“Impossible. I'm always a dick.”

Shou snorts at him. The sound doesn't carry through the glass, but Ritsu knows the face he makes when he does it. “Yeah, well, y’are whatcha eat, I guess.”

Ritsu pulls the curtain shut.

The indignant “Awww, c’mon, it was funny,” is muffled by the thick fabric. Ritsu had just recently reset that lock, he reasons he has at least a couple minutes before Shou gets it figured out. He's just barely finished stepping into his shoes, though, when the door slides open and Shou breezes in, bringing in the smell of rain. He's getting too good at that.

"So where exactly are we going?" Ritsu always asks when Shou just shows up to whisk him away like this, but he had stopped caring about an actual answer over a year ago. Shou can make even mundane, boring things exciting. He could say they were just going to the corner store and it would still be fun. So it doesn't matter what the answer is, because Ritsu will follow along regardless.

"Places." Ritsu side steps to make room for the eventual circuit that Shou will make through his room. Even though they see each other almost every day now, Shou always walks by his bookshelf to look at the framed pictures sitting there. Or maybe he just scans the book spines, trying to figure out which one might be Ritsu's journal. "I found some pretty cool abandoned stuff past Mud Boat Mountain. Like they just half bulldozed some tourist places and then left them!" Shou stops in front of Ritsu's desk, leaning back against it with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. He doesn't pace, doesn’t play with any of the pens on Ritsu's desk, doesn’t even look at the shelves.

The sudden break in routine is more than enough to remind Ritsu of the strange text messages from that morning. 

Shou is acting weird. Like, weird even for Shou.

And he only realizes it more and more as Shou babbles about whatever he's found out in the mountain ranges. There's something off about his rhythm, about the way the words roll off his tongue. And Ritsu isn't sure of exactly what it is, but he can pick out that it's wrong. It maybe wouldn't be wrong coming from anyone else, but it's wrong for Shou and at least to Ritsu, Shou isn't just anyone else, he's Shou.

And Shou does eventually move, but it's only to steal a jacket out of the closet. The one that's changed hands so many times between the two of them that Ritsu can't even remember who it belonged to first.

Something like unease settles into Ritsu's gut, twisting up his insides.

It only gets worse from there. When they both leave the house, Shou keeps finishing Ritsu's sentences or answering questions before he's even done asking them. And this isn't unheard of, Shou can read Ritsu like an open book after so much time, but it's never been to this extent. Part of it makes Ritsu nervous simply because it's something new with no obvious explanation, but the other part worries that this means Ritsu is just that obvious. How much as Shou figured out about him recently? Does he know about Ritsu's Secret and that's why he's acting strange? Does Shou know that he likes him? "Yo, Earth to Ritsu!" Right. The convenience store. Snacks for on the way. It's not until they're back on the route to Mud Boat that Ritsu realizes he hadn't grabbed the salt water taffy he always brings home with him. He really is preoccupied. "Hey...Shou, hold on, I forgot Nii-san's candy." "Eh? Isn't he gone for the weekend, anyway?" Ritsu has just opened his mouth to answer that no, where did Shou even get that idea, when his phone trills in his pocket. Shige: I'll be gone when you get home. Shishou needed help and Serizawa is still out of town. Be back Monday. Ritsu's blood chills, bits of it clogging up his brain and trapping his thoughts in a clotted-off loop. Something is wrong. Something is really, really, wrong.

"Shou... Shou, how did you-?" "Peach ring?" When he looks up from his phone, Shou is suddenly a lot closer, holding a piece of candy up to his face. His eyes have gone from warm to overbearing, something that burns so hot and bright the flame has gone blue. Ritsu knows when he's being told not to ask. He opens his mouth again only to bite the peach ring out of Shou's fingers. ○●●○●●○ Now that he knows Shou is keeping Secrets, too, Ritsu goes on high alert, his feeling of everything being off-kilter only multiplied from before. "And so then- Then I told this guy that if he didn't speak- If he didn't start talking, I was really gonna light a fire under him-" "Shou, oh my god." It's a little hard to concentrate on that, though, when Shou is holding his hand because touching makes it easier to keep them both invisible. This didn't used to rile him up nearly as much as it does now. His only comfort is the fact that Shou can't see him, either. When the bus finally pulls up to the last stop at the base of the mountain, they both drop down to the ground without breaking hold, Shou kicking against the window and cackling when the people inside startle. Ritsu wonders if Reigen is going to get a call on Monday about evil spirits riding on top of public transport and messing with the passengers. The bus pulls away and Shou drops the invisibility and Ritsu drops their hands and turns before Shou can notice if his face is as unbearably red as it feels.

"...C'mon, it's not too much farther now." Ritsu is pretty sure he's just imagining the disappointed tone in his voice. Shou guides him up the mountain side, occasionally grabbing his sleeve to stop him from taking specific paths because trust me, Ritsu, you'll just give yourself a concussion like a dumbass. Ritsu bites his tongue and doesn't argue against it. When they float up the last bit of cliffside, they're greeted by a few run down old buildings, sides caved in and toppled by time and creeping vines. Their walls spill out like entrails, littering the ground with wood and glittering broken glass. "Pretty cool, eh?" Ritsu has to admit, it is pretty cool. They both walk forwards and it takes Ritsu a moment to place why the act itself is so weird. He's grown familiar with the sight of Shou's back, he could redraw the freckles on the nape of his neck almost as well as he could the ones on his face. Because Shou is always leading and Ritsu is always content to follow wherever Shou might lead him. But now Shou is all but glued to his side, shorter legs working to keep pace. He's keeping him close, keeping an eye on him, and Ritsu doesn't know what to think about that. And the longer they go on exploring their new discovery, the more antsy Shou seems to get. He's always energetic, always doing something, but it's never with this uncharacteristically nervous or paranoid feel to it. Shou keeps checking the time on his phone, he turns towards any sound that he can't immediately see the source of. His nerves are fraying like old rope. "Ritsu." He startles, because Shou hadn't said anything in a while and his jumpiness is starting to rub off on him. "Be quiet a sec. Don't move." They both go perfectly still until Shou's head whips towards the ceiling. Ritsu's eyes follow and then he can hear it, too, creaking along the old rubble. Footsteps. "Ok..." Shou's voice drops to a whisper. "Ritsu, put up a barrier. Thick as you can. On my mark. Three..." Ritsu tenses up, aura manifesting around them both in refractile bluepurplepink. "Two..." Shou drops his stance, reaching out and grabbing Ritsu to pull him closer until his concentration nearly stutters. "One!!" Ritsu's barrier balloons around them and too many things happen all at once for him to keep track of them all. Something drops in from the ceiling and something else swings in from the window and- Shou suddenly has Ritsu behind him backed in a corner and the desk near them flies open and stuff comes pouring out the drawers- And the entire desk goes hurtling across the room and someone screams and glass shatters and wood splinters- Something collides with his barrier and it pops like a bubble and then- And then Shou is being ripped screaming out of his hands- And suddenly there's a fist in his face and it isn't Shou’s because Ritsu knows what Shou’s fists look like, especially when they're right in his face, and this one isn't Shou's- Ritsu is dragged out and away through a hole in the wall and halfway through the woods all at once before he can get his bearings, but he lashes out as soon as he does. Practiced weak spots, eyes, nose, throat, solar plexus, hands wreathed with aura and one fist shoved up under the ribs before both hammer down onto the back of the person's bowed head. Ritsu sends them flying, maybe into a tree, maybe over a fucking cliff, he doesn't care, it doesn't matter as long as they're not in the way because he needs to get back to Shou. He races back to the old building and Shou is standing close to where they'd been before, visible through a massive hole blown in the wall of the second floor, Ritsu isn't even sure it was there before, but oh thank god he's still standing and he's alright. Shou pulls the hood of their jacket up one-handed right before he sways backwards and plummets. It's such a short fall that Ritsu only barely manages to grab him with telekinesis right before he crashes into all the debris below and that in itself scares him even more, because Shou doesn't even try to catch himself, he just falls and he's completely limp as he dangles in the air. Ritsu eases him down as gently as he can, but he can feel his heartbeat in his ears and it's making his control shaky. It isn't until he has him laying flat on the ground that Shou's eyes peer open again. "Shou! What happened, did you get hit? Are you bleeding? Where does it hurt? Is your head alright?" And Shou just blinks up at him like he's trying to recalibrate, turquoise irises rolling like compass needles until they realign with their true north and settle on Ritsu's face. "Ritsu...you did it. I knew you'd pull through on your end." When he smiles, his teeth are stained pink. "They have a bad habit of...of underestimating you." Shou's arm comes up and pats his cheek, but it's only the left one. His right stays crooked on the ground. Ritsu's eyes catch on the red starting to pool under his back, under his head, and the sight tangles in the spokes of his brain until the wheels grind. "Don't." Shou's hand, the only good one left, grabs Ritsu's wrist before he can reach the zipper to get a look at where the jacket is soaked to his skin. "Ritsu, just...just trust me. Don't." He doesn't stop Ritsu from calling an ambulance at least, even though he's starting to fear there's no point in it. Shou's teeth are starting to chatter and Ritsu's heart and lungs are starting to spasm and he's bleeding out all over the ground and- "Listen to me. L-Listen. Ritsu." Shou stops to grit his teeth and spit blood. "Ricchan. It's all...everything's gonna be ok. I can do this. I'll do...I'll get i-it right next time. I was so close this time. Ricchan, it's gonna be ok." "...You knew." Shou had been acting weird all day long. Like he already knew everything that would happen. "Shou, you asshole, you were keeping Secrets, you knew, and you still- You still...!" "Which is why...I know that everything's gonna...gonna be ok." Ritsu finally makes himself look Shou in the eye. He still looks dazed, his pupils mismatched in size. Concussion. "C'mere. My head is...it hurts. I...pillow." Ritsu manages to get Shou's head on his lap, desperately trying to ignore the sticky wetness seeping into his jeans. He figures it's the least he can do. "Ricchan. Tell me-e-e...tell me a, uh, a story." "You seriously want...?" "Mm. Tell me...haha, tell me about the time...about when Kamuro and, and Tokugawa tried to...catch Momozou ditching." "I...Shou, you already know that story. You were there for some of it." "I know... It's, uh...a good memory. I love...like the way you, you tell it." Shou settles in while Ritsu recites something from back in middle school, Kamuro and Tokugawa deciding tardiness was their new target and Momozou was the worst in Salt Mid. "So Shinji is still hanging halfway out the window and... Shou. Sh-Shou, stay awake." "Mm." He doesn't open his eyes again. "Keep...going. Still listening..." Ritsu closes his eyes, too, because that way he can almost pretend this is just another night where one of them had a nightmare and went crawling into the other's bed and he doesn't have to watch his vision swim. "And...and Hikaru is trying to, to pull them both back in, but Momozou is so d-damn big and heavy that...th-that..." Ritsu squeezes his eyes shut tighter. He's not sure he wants to see.

"Shou...?" Nothing answers him but his own hiccuping breaths. "Shou, c'mon, you shouldn't...you're not supposed to sleep with a concussion. You can't..." He can't do this to him is what he wants to say, but he already knows it's pointless because there's no one there to hear it, because Shou is a fucking liar and he had said that everything was gonna be ok and Ritsu didn't even get to tell him his own Secret and nothing about this is even remotely ok. One hand clenches in the sleeve of their shared jacket and the other clamps over his eyes until it makes kaleidoscope patterns on the inside of his eyelids. He and Shou weren't supposed to be separated, they did everything together, they were a pair, he doesn’t want to imagine having to look forward and not seeing Shou's back like always because Ritsu is the only one he trusts to watch his back. They weren't ever supposed to be apart. Something bright burns beyond his eyelids and it's the only reason Ritsu peeks out between his fingers. Orange, yellow, and pink, an aura he knows almost as well as his own, but now in the shape of a person. Two wide white eyes slowly open across its face, meeting his gaze head on. Shou's ghost is sitting in front of him, staring at him. Ritsu watches, partly mesmerized and partly horrified, as he cups his hands together and something builds there, crackling with energy. Shou's eyes crinkle up like they do when he smiles and suddenly everything starts to pull. Nothing looks like it's moving, but Ritsu can feel it, like he's being sucked in, like his very soul is being forced out of him through a straw. Everything is compressed, crushed, crumbled down to crumbs as it's drawn into the tiny black hole held carefully in Shou's cupped hands. He can feel the world condensing into a single point, the preparation for a new universe because the best thing about this one was dead and gone. And Ritsu swears, just at the last possible second before the big bang, that he feels Shou's heart jolt beneath his fingertips.

[ariannnawinchester]

Purple eyes, desperate cries

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam and three OFCs.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, death. The usual angsty stuff.

Square Filled: Fairy abduction

Summary: The Reader is sort of new to the gig, Dean and her clash and she runs away. That’s when things take a turn for the worse. Feelings are left hanging in the air and when they finally settle it’s too late. There’s a reason why Dean hates ‘witches’.

A/N: This is for @spnangstbingo. I wrote this some time back. I just forgot about it. Feedback and constructive criticism is most welcomed.

“You’re joking right?” You scoff. The situation seems too far fetched for you to comprehend, let alone for you to take seriously. “There must be some other explanation for this.” You shake your head, walking over to the rickety chair to take a seat.

Fairies. That’s what you can’t wrap your head around. That’s what Sam’s been trying to convince you about for past 10 minutes. Like actual fairies. With cute flower petal dresses and shimmery wings. Just thinking about it makes you giggle.

“People are turning up dead. And you’re sitting here laughing?” Dean’s voice stops your laughter dead in its tracks. There’s a storm brewing in his green eyes, threatening to flatten anything in his path. For once, you don’t want to push his buttons. “I don’t care whether we’re up to our asses in sparkly purple fairy dust, we’re gonna solve this case.”

Sam clears his throat. The sound slashing through some of the tension. He gets off his chair and walks to stand in front of you and Dean. He’s thumbing at his tablet. You can see his mind is working at a million miles a second. “So get this, apparently all the people that have gone missing are believers. They believe in all this mumbo jumbo. That’s why the fairies can take them.”

“Biker Jack is a fairy believer?” You question, sarcasm dripping of your every word. “Can’t really imagine him skipping around his garden sprinkling fairy dust all over the place.”

“That would explain the children.” Dean says over you. Almost like he’s pretending you aren’t there. “How many kids were taken again? Just before we got here?”

“Uhhh...” Sam scrolls some more, “two.”

“What if it’s a Tulpa? Loads of people believe, it’s bound to come to life.” You pipe up.

“It’s probable.” Sam nods in your direction, “that would explain why it’s happening for the first time in this town.”

“You’re kidding right?” You’re taking her side.” Dean questions, his nostrils flaring. “It’s fucking fairies. We’ve dealt with them before. I blew one up in a microwave.”

You stalk up to Dean and push him. Hard enough for him to stumble. His jaw drops, wide eyes just blinking at you.

“I don’t get what’s your damn problem with me Dean. I’m trying to help. Excuse me, if I can’t wrap my head around shit. I got dragged into this crap because you needed a new goddamn prophet.” You yell, tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m trying. I’m fucking trying. But you know what I’m done. Goodbye.”

You snatch your navy jacket off the bed and head for outside. Slamming the door on your way out. The fragile windowpanes creaking in your wake. You faintly hear Sam’s voice calling your name but you keep walking.

It’s freezing out. Your breath coming in misty puffs right in front of your face, hugging your jacket tighter to your body, you keep walking. Trying to put enough distance between you and Dean. Your skin’s covered in goosebumps. Partially from the frosty air and partially from the sounds that are lurking in the dark edges of the leafy forest.

Something doesn’t feel right. You can tell. The hairs on your back are straight on end and your heart is thudding in your ears. Part of you kind of wishes that you hadn’t left like that. Dean maybe a pain in the ass right now but he has saved your ass more than you can count in the time that he knew you.

You swallow shallowly, coming to halt when you see a glowing light in the distance. It’s alluring, the warmth radiating from it drawing you in, almost like it is calling out to you. The icy air is blowing through the trees, making them dance to the enchanting song only you can hear. With an unwavering gaze, one foot in front of the other you make your way towards the light. There is something about it, promising you all that your heart desires. The closer you get the more it smells like him...

“Sam!” Dean shouts, on his haunches. The only brightness in the night coming from the Impala’s headlights. Dean’s fist is balled up tightly, his lips in a thin lip. “Sammy, it took her.”

Dean gets up, walking back to the car with his palm pressed against his forehead. That’s when Sam sees it. It shocks him. The ground is littered with purple glitter, glinting in the light. It makes Sam think of Jess, of school, of a life away from this.

“It make you feel anything?” Dean mumbles, leaning against the side of the car. He looks pale, like he’s about to heave, “I touched it and I saw her. And I didn’t just want her. I need her. Like without her I won’t be able to breathe.”

Sam didn’t hear much of what Dean said, only regaining his senses when the last of the glitter fell from his hand. “It’s no secret that you’re in love with her.” Sam smiles, putting his hands into his pockets, “when we save her you can tell her, yeah?”

“What if we can’t? What if we can’t save her?” Dean chokes, “Sammy, we have to find her.” He grabs Sam’s collar, expecting him to promise. But Sam, he didn’t want to admit it but he wants the magic too. The one the glitter promises.

You slowly blink your eyes open, trying to adjust to the bright white light dancing in front of your eyes. Your throat is hoarse, like you’d been shouting at a Led Zep concert, you’ll do just about anything for a drop of water.

“Greetings pretty one.” A musical voice fills your ear, “For a moment there I thought you weren’t going to wake up. I was about to rip Greta a new one for sprinkling too much dust.”

You can’t tell where the voice is coming from, frantically searching for it you find your wrists in shackles. Thick green vines sprouting purple orchids.

“Who are you?” You shout, twisting your arms, “what do you want?” The harder you struggle the tighter your restrains get. It’s making it hard to breath. The smell from the orchids almost lulling you into a deep sleep. “Dean’s..dean’s...gonna find me. He’s gonna find me.”

“Nauhh precious.” The voice fills your ear again, “I can’t have you fall asleep on me. Then it’s no fun.” It cackles, “as for your lover boy. We’ll see how far he gets. Wini get the broth!”

“Coming sister.” A squeaky softer voice answers.

You feel a hand grab your chin, with force holding your face straight. A wooden ladle is pressed against your mouth, almost as if it is forcing your lips to part. “No!” You scream, squeezing your eyes closed and sealing your lips shut.

“Come now dear.” The musical voice coax, “don’t make it hard for me.” The sweet voice has a a deadly sharp edge to it, “look at me! Look at me!” It commands, the booming voice echoing in your ears, “look at me and let me steal your heart. Let me steal your magic.”

Big fat tears are rolling down your feverish face. Your body trembling with fear and the trauma. You force your eyelids to open, stalling as you look at the dusty ground until the very last second. In time with your terrified heart you look up. And what you see shocks you to your core.

Beauty. Utter and absolute beauty. The musical voice is more beautiful than you could ever imagine. It actually hurts to look at them, her and who you can assume are her sisters. Wini and Greta.

“Who are you?” You whisper, completely enthralled by her gorgeous violet eyes. “What do you want from me?”

“Sybil. You can call me Sybil, pretty one.” She says, smiling at you. She kneels to your level, her soft finger tips brushing away stray strands of your hair, “and I want...I want-“

“Anything!” You blurt, wanting nothing more than to please her, “I’ll give you anything you want, I promise.”

“But,” she starts removing her velvet scarlet robes, “I don’t have your heart. He does.”

Slowly, violet eyes turn into brilliant green ones. Slender shoulders turn into proud squared ones. Soft creamy flesh turns into sun kissed freckled skin. And you can’t help but gasp. The sight of him takes your breath away.

“Dean.” You call out, “Dean you came for me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you and running off.”

“Hush pretty one.” The words don’t sound exactly right as it leaves his mouth, “I’m here to give you what you want. I’m here to help.” He assures, strong arm circling around your waist pulling you towards his solid body. “Now, drink.” He brings the wooden ladle to you lips, and you comply, drop by drop the purple liquid drips down your throat and you begin to feel like you’re floating.

“Dean.” You’re searching for his warmth but now, you’re just clutching at air, “Dean, I’m scared. What’s happening to me? Dean!” You begin to yell, but you’re choking on your words, the air snatched from your lungs.

“The louder you scream, the more it will hurt Y/N. Now, stop screaming. No one can hear you.”

“Tell me why you’re doing this!” You demand, barely able to see straight.

“Because we have to.” Wini, the shy one finally speaks out from behind Sybil, “or we die. We steal lives so we can live forever.”

“Shut-“ You hear the growl of Dean’s voice.

A gunshot explodes. Another one. And, another one.

Everything stills in their echo- the shuffling, the music even his, no her voice. In these seconds of stillness, your heart skips a few beats. You hear him again, the sound of his heavy footsteps sprinting towards you. With a panicked jerk, your heart’s in your throat, drowning out the furious whispers in your ears.

“Dean...” You murmur, feeling his strong arm around your waist, the other supporting your head, “you really came for me.” You manage a weak smile, “she tricked me, she made me think she was you. I know you’d never hurt me. You’d never hurt me.” You say furiously before the breath in your lungs run out, you’re squeezing his hand in yours, hoping he will feel it. Hoping he will realize that he is all you ever want.

“Stay with me Y/N.” He says, hushing you, brushing your matted hair off your sweaty forehead, “We’ll fix this alright. Sam’s gonna find away and you’ll be okay. We need you. I need you.” He chokes out his words, big fat tears rolling down his face.

“I’m sorr-“

“No!” Dean wails, clinging to your body, pressing his face into your loose hair, “No, no.” He keeps muttering, “this can’t be happening. This isn’t real.”

Dean doesn’t even react when Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. Sam has no words of comfort to offer. This has shocked him. Taken his speech away.

“She’s gone Sammy. Gone.” He sobs, not ready to let go of your body just yet. You’re still warm, color still in your skin. “I couldn’t save her.”

“Dean, we have to go. We have to take her home. Send her off the right way.”

Dean rubs the back of his hand across his face, smudging away the tears before he lets go of you.

“No. We are going to drive to the ocean and put her there. We’re going to do that. We have to give her what she wanted. It’s the least we can do.”

Sam freezes, shock contorting his sorrow. He grabs Dean’s arm, pointing to your body. The slightest movement of your fingers is enough to freeze Dean solid, his voice gets lodged in his throat.

“Y/N?” He calls.

But, it’s too late. Now, you’re the one with purple eyes.

Tags: @thedevilinthedetails @damn-sassalecki @akshi8278 @tia58 @laurwinchester @the-amaranthine @merci-is-screaming @pizzarollpatrol @torn-and-frayed @nightmaredean @captainemwinchester @sleep-silent-angel @kittenofdoomage

[willaimbyers]

half doomed and semi-sweet

The fic where Richie Tozier models nude for a university art class for some extra cash and effectively gives Will Byers a heart attack in the process.

PROLOGUE

To some extent Will had always considered himself an optimist. Even when things were bad, like, ‘his father walking out on his family, his mother barely making ends meet, and him getting bullied so consistently in school he almost forgot his name wasn’t fairy boy’ bad, Will almost always found a way to look on the bright side. Like yes, his father sucked but at least he had Jonathan, and later, his lovable step-father Hopper. And yes, his mother worked at a supermarket and they couldn’t afford a lot of things growing up, but at least she loved him enough to take care of him and try her best. And yes, some kids at school bullied him, but it was almost because of that ridicule and alienation that Will made some of the best friends he’d ever had.

See? Bright side.

As far as Will was concerned there always was one as long as you put in the effort to look for it.

So, when Will moved away from the only home and friends he’d ever known, by himself to go to art school in Maine Will determinedly looked for the bright side.

Honestly, it took a while, but Will is almost sure he’s pinned it down.

A fresh start.

See, when you grow up in a small town where everybody knows everybody, and you’ve known literally every person you’ve ever met since probably about kindergarten, there are very limited (read: absolutely no) opportunities to reinvent yourself. Of course, there are exceptions. Like Dustin, for example. Dustin had almost completely reinvented himself after his growth spurt in tenth grade. He got taller and broader, and got his braces off and cut his hair, and joined the football team, and suddenly, he wasn’t Toothless Henderson anymore. He was Dusty Henderson, the guy who half the girls tittered about in the hall and the half the guys were kind of a bit jealous of. He was the guy who actually had a real chance of being prom king, the guy who people always wanted to invite to their parties, the guy who from an outsider’s perspective, didn’t really fit in with The Party anymore but for some inexplicable reason hung out with them anyways. This was a rare and extreme case in which people would look back on the Dustin of the past and laugh and tease and say things like ‘wow, I can hardly believe that was you.’

This is once again, an exception, in which all the embarrassing and nerdy things that Dustin previously did became cute little anecdotes for people to look back on and reference to be cheeky.

Will was not apart of that exception.

He’s been fairy boy since Troy Keaton crowned him so when they were four and Troy made Will cry by stomping all over his drawings. He was fairy boy in elementary school when he made the mistake of letting his teacher show his drawing of his rainbow ship to the class. He was fairy boy in middle school when all the other boys had buxom feminine celebrity crushes and Will couldn’t name one when put on the spot. And he was fairy boy in high school when he fell in love with his best friend and finally accepted that Troy, as cruel and childish as he was, may have been on to something.

And he hasn’t been able to shake the identity even once.

Until now.

+

So, on his way to his fresh start, as his brother drove and the blasted The Clash on the stereo, Will wrote a short but concise list on the very back page of his sketchbook and vowed to follow it.

At the time, he honestly didn’t expect that simply attempting to follow this list would change more than the perception people had of him. But it did.

It changed his life.

CHAPTER 1

In Will’s opinion, the best thing about going to school for art was the art class was pretty much every class. He no longer had to trudge through gym or sit impatiently through English. He no longer dreaded his homework or procrastinated on his projects and he didn’t even have the urge to entertain the idea of skipping. Every class was his favourite class, every class featured something exciting, and all his teachers were wonderful and talented and passionate. Will was honestly still getting used to that, to the fact that he was surrounded by artsy Mr. Clarkes. However, he could admit it was something he could get used to.

So, when Professor Turner ended the previous class with a conspiratory wink and a promise for something interesting their next workshop, Will sincerely felt a jolt of enthusiasm. And, like clockwork, when he woke up on the day of the aforementioned workshop a week later he was just as excited. He went around for most of his morning off with his heart beating too fast and his lips sporadically curling into a smile he couldn’t quite keep at bay, and it seemed that the closer he got to the time of his art workshop the giddier he got.

But the moment Will actually enters the studio and spots a figure sporting a fuzzy white robe, a wild head of curls, and a face that makes Will’s heart ache for the boy he’d loved for a large majority of his formative years, Will swears his heart stops. He swears the world stops.

“…Mike?” Will breathes softly, his eyes glued to the tall as he watches him move to the craft table, pick up a piece a cheese and sniff it curiously. Will blinks once and then twice when that does nothing to make the image before him any more comprehensible, his lips parted in his shock as his eyes drink in every freckle and curl of the boy inexplicably standing a few feet in front of him. As his mind hits a snag his eyes unintentionally wander, his soft hazel eyes inadvertently tracing the v that the robe makes over the bare expanse of Mike’s chest, and that just makes the struggle for coherent thought even harder, because it’s almost impossible to think when his eyes are flicking over the way the material hangs on Mike’s shoulders or the way terrycloth material frames his pale collarbones—

All unproductive thought is halted when someone unceremoniously bumps into him from behind and breaks him out of his reverie. He quickly stutters out an apology to the girl behind him, swallowing thickly as she waves the apology off with a smile and squeezes past him into the classroom. He blinks after her for only a second and even manages to get his feet to follow her lead and begin moving towards one of the many seats the art class has to offer. But it’s not long until his eyes are drifting back towards the lean figure of the mysteriously present Mike Wheeler, to the long line of the other’s neck and the almost elegant cascade of his curls as he tilts his head back and casually tosses grapes past his full lips.

Will swallows so hard it almost hurts and forces himself to look away as he settles into his seat, as he forces his fingers to occupy themselves with setting up his art supplies by his easel. Yet, even as he arranges his paints according to the order rainbow, even as he sharpens his pencils and sets out his charcoals, he can almost feel Mike presence like a physical thing. What is he doing here? And why was he in a robe in the middle of Will’s art class room? Last time Will checked Mike should have been in Chicago, travelling with El and visiting Kali. All it took was a cursory glance around the classroom for Will to gather that his step-sister wasn’t here too, and while it didn’t make sense that Mike was here, it made even less sense that he was here without El.

So, what was going on?

Will licks his dry lips as he stares at the blank paper before him, mind running over all the possibilities and yet still finding nothing that could possibly make logical sense. As he sucks thoughtfully on his bottom lip Mike’s presence is almost like a persistent buzzing in the back of his mind, a weight he can’t shake and a temptation he can’t fight and before Will can stop himself his eyes have flicked back up again, right into the dark eyes of one Mike Wheeler.

Will’s heart skips a beat as their eyes meet, as he looks unflinchingly back at Mike in more shock than anything. The dark-haired male raises a curious brow at him and Will only feels his heart race faster with his slow flush as time seems to slow oddly around them until the sound of the classroom door crashing open startles him into breaking the eye contact.

“Good morning class!” His professor calls out as she enters the small classroom, a mess of papers in her arms as she moves towards her desk with her usual cheerful confidence. “I see you’ve all met our guest for the day.”

Professor Turner sloppily drops her materials onto her desk before she turns to them, her eyes glittering in a way that has Will almost cautious as he looks between her and the now distracted Mike. Mike’s attention has drifted to the crackers decorating the table and Will eyes fall to the other boy’s angular fingers as Mike deftly shuffles the crackers like playing cards in between sliding them distractedly into his mouth. Will catches himself staring at the way Mike’s lips form around the crackers for a few moments longer than would be deemed appropriate before he swallows thickly.

The sound of Professor Turners’ hands clapping together breaks Will out of his trance long enough for him to realize he likely just missedeverything she just said because he was too busy ogling Mike Wheeler. She waves her hand in Mike’s direction in a grand dramatic gesture as she beams and theatrically says, “Now, young man, if you would please get us all started.”

Will’s brows furrow at the statement initially, and they’re still puckered in confusion even as his eyes naturally flick to Mike’s movements. Mike gives the professor an amused but silent salute before he casually makes his way over to the foot stool in the middle of the class. Will watches in continued bewilderment as Mike dramatically steps onto the podium, dusts the crumbs off his hands, grips the lapels of the robe and unceremoniously just…drops it.

Will eyes focus on the inane flapping of the robes material as it falls through the air, watching it land in a clumsy heap on the linoleum for a moment before he glances back up, fully absorbs what just happened, and promptly stops breathing.

Jesus.

All he can see are the stars that Mike’s freckles make against his pale skin, against every inch of his exposed skin, from his strong shoulders to the firm line of his stomach to his calves. That alone holds his focus for a few moments until he’s distracted by the almost palpable softness of things that Will is quite sure he’s never seen, like Mike’s inner thigh and soft curve of his ass. Then, of course, there is the utter unfathomability of other parts of Mike, not unfathomability that they existed, of course, Will had always known that Mike had a penis, he’d just never thought that he would see it in anything more than humiliating teenage wet dreams and purely accidental glimpes in the locker room. But there it was. Topped by a curly brush of dark hair that almost looked soft to touch.

Will is absolutely sure that he’s never seen this much of anybody in his life, other than the pathetic exception of himself, and he feels almost heady with the suddenness that he was exposed to it all.

And the moment his eyes trail up the body before him and once again meet that pair of dark eyes, the painful pound of his heartbeat in his chest stutters.

Because the boy before him has eyes that are twinkling with a wicked glint something close to smugness as the corner of his lip pulls up into an attractive smirk, a combination of features so alarmingly and alluringly foreign that they force Will to realize that this—this person before him is not Mike.

And yet Will still can’t manage to move in his shock, can’t manage to look away as his dry tongue moves to flick over the seam of his lips. The other boy follows the movement with a look so blatant that Will can feel himself tingle with the force of his blush, can feel his breath finally hitch with it and it is that surge of oxygen that prompts Will’s eyes to finally drop to his easel in a small internal panic.

Very much not Mike.

What was happening?

Who was this person and why did they look so much like Mike?

Because he wasn’t Mike. Right?

Right.

Will was almost one hundred percent sure he wasn’t Mike. Because… he didn’t feel like Mike, when he looked at him. And because Will is absolutely sure he’s never seen such a… seductive expression on Mike’s face, let alone directed at him.

So, he wasn’t Mike.

But who was he?

Will glances around the class subtly for an answer to that question and he’s slightly surprised to see everybody hard at work. His classmates are glancing indifferently at the nude man in the middle of their classroom as they work with charcoals and pencils and paints, and Will is slightly startled to realize that he’s expected to do the same. His mouth works open and closed for an awkward moment as he glances at Professor Turner only to see her working through the mess of papers on her desk with her lips moving silently in thought. Their art workshop is an hour long and a quick glance at the clock tells Will that he has at least fifty minutes left, and it is with slight horror that his eyes flick back to the man in the middle of their art room, their model.

The Mike lookalike is staring distractedly at wall adjacent to him now, silent but subtly fidgeting as the sounds of drawing fill the room. Despite the fact that Will now knows it’s appropriate to stare, that that is what they’re practically here to do, he still finds himself stealthily tracing the hinge of the Mike lookalikes jaw with his eyes, quietly admiring the length of the other’s eyelashes and the otherworldly way his hair frames his face.

Will once again gets caught up in drinking in sight of the male before him and this time, when the other turns to him Will hesitantly stands his ground despite the lightning he feels jolting his gut. He carefully wets his lips and picks up a thin pencil, his eyes never swaying from the curious glint of the pair looking back at him as he inhales subtly and finally puts lead to paper.

+

This Mike’s hair is a little longer, Will acknowledges as he draws it with gentle swoops of his pencil, as he perfects every curl, and details every wave. And the bags under his eyes are darker, Will notes as he smudges the darkness of them in with gentle fingers. His lips are more chapped and ragged, as if they’d been bitten raw, as if they’d been picked at and torn nervously, and Will depicts the dry skin with faint lines. There are light marks on the bridge of his nose, almost symmetrical in their placement and so faint you can barely see them, and Will fleshes them out those light marks with delicate movements. The swell of his biceps is slightly larger than Will remembers Mike’s being, slightly enough that Will wonders if the observation is more of a testament to the length of time it’s been since Will has seen Mike’s bare arms than anything. He carefully outlines them before methodically going about bring them to life.

Honestly, Will has drawn Mike so many times that he almost expected this process to be familiar. But eerily enough it wasn’t. There was something slightly off about it, and every time Will noticed a subtle difference between the boy before him and Mike, his Mike, it was almost as if he was affirming that the two were separate.

But for every difference there was one glaring similarity between the two that could not be ignored: this boy beautiful. Beautiful like Mike has always been beautiful to Will.

But this boy’s beauty strikes Will in a slightly different way.

Will is engrossed in putting this beauty to paper, in doing it justice in he’s interpretation but his breath still catches whenever he glances up to see the other boy’s gaze directed at him. Will doesn’t know what it is, but every time his gaze flicks up to the other’s eyes they’re looking back at him without shame, with a glint of something heated and a bit of something mischievous. Will’s heartbeat races faster each time their eyes meet, and he swears that his blush deepens by the second, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t back down.

Be more confident.

Will purses his lips at that thought a moment before he straightens on his stool, momentarily abandoning his sketch in favor of almost boldly looking the other male directly in the eye. The other’s brow arches at that, his gaze a question in itself and Will swears that he can feel his pulse in his fingertips as he nervously taps his pencil against the wood of his easel. He anxiously flicks his tongue over his lips as he allows his eyes to travel down the form of the other slowly, in a suggestive way that teeters between deliberate and hesitant. He tries to infuse the same amount of confidence in his eyes’ path back up to the other’s face, tries to fight the urge of flight in the back of his mind and honestly he’s even surprised with himself when he manages to regain eye contact with the other without chickening out. As he meets those eyes again and he’s met with the dilation of the other’s pupils and the slight flare of his nostrils, Will feels a spike of heat in his stomach intense enough to make him squirm. He’s able to inhale a shaky breath but unable to look away, his piece abandoned in favor of staring back into the raven-haired boy’s eyes with a match in intensity, and it is for the second time that day that the clap of Professor Turner’s hands nearly makes Will jump out of his skin.

“Alright! Pencils down, artisans.” Professor Turner says with an amused curve to her lips before she turns to the Mike lookalike and cordially says, “Thank you, Mr. Tozier for your hard work, you can feel free to put your robe back on now. For the rest of you, please make sure your pieces have your name and student number on them before you submit them to me for evaluation. I repeat, please make sure—”

Will’s eyes unconsciously follow the movements of the other male for another few moments before he catches himself and looks down at his lap, his heart racing as his mind remains fixated on one word.

Tozier.

Tozier.

Very much not Mike.

Will is both glad he was right and very bewildered all at once, his brows puckered as he wonders how two people can possibly look so alike and notbe the same person or related in anyway. Unless they were related? By blood? Maybe—

“Hey.”

Will glances up in surprise at the sound of a voice above him, his green eyes widening at the sight of Tozier, clad in his robe once again and sporting that unnamable glint in his eye paired with his smirk. Will’s mouth goes a bit dry.

“Do you want to…hang out or something?”

And suddenly all of Will’s questions have gone out the window as he stares back at Tozier, as his heart races to the beat of a consistent echo in the back of his mind.

Be more confident

Be more confident.

Be more confident.

“…Or something?” Will finds himself saying quietly, his eyes meeting the boy above him with quiet hesitance and something just as unnamable as the other’s lips pull up into a grin as he shrugs.

“Or something.”

+

“What’s your name?” Will finds himself asking breathlessly against the other’s lips in between dizzying kisses that are hastily resumed sooner than Will can catch his breath. He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a gasp of surprise as he’s lifted by his thighs, tightening his legs around the other’s waist as his back is press into one of the shelves of the supply closet. He can’t even focus on the fact that a shelf is jabbing uncomfortably into his spine when those lips travel over his jaw, when they trace a path to the sensitive spot behind Will’s ear and suck hard enough to make Will’s eyelashes flutter. “Y-Your first… name.”

“Well, I’m glad you asked, beautiful, considering you’re going to be screaming my name in the next few minutes.”  He says with a wicked grin that Will can feel against his skin. He nips at Will’s earlobe with absolutely no warning, the bite of the sensation making Will gasp again. “Richie Tozier, at your service, gorgeous. I am here to tend to all of your x-rated needs, from exhibitionistic eye fucks to giving you the orgasm of your life in approximately five minutes. It’s a pleasure. Or, well, it will be.”

And Will huffs a disbelieving laugh at those words despite the flush of his skin, a laugh that quickly morphs into a groan as Richie – Richie – grinds against him firmly, the fluffy fabric of his robe only adding to the friction between them as Richie captures Will’s lips again.

“What’s your name, cutie?” Richie asks after kissing Will so deeply, so filthily that he honestly sees stars.

“Will.” Will replies as he gasps for breath. Will’s hands move from gripping firmly at Richie shoulders to securely anchoring themselves at the back of Richie’s neck as the other grinds into him with just enough pressure to tease Will into moaning at every other breath. “Will Byers.”

And Richie grins so wickedly that Will feels his poor heart skip a beat for the umpteenth time, his eyes crinkling as he smoothly sets Will back down on his feet.

“Well, Willy B, forewarning, I am about to ruin blowjobs for you forever. Nothing will ever compare to this. You’ll either have to fuck me forever or become a goddamn priest.” Richie says as he smoothly slides down Will’s body onto his knees, his hands easily undoing the button and zipper of Will’s pants as he says, “You’re welcome.”

“What? You—…” Will tries to interject, he really does, but the only coherent sound that ends up coming out of his mouth is an awed, “Oh.”

Because Richie’s promise wasn’t empty.