#He is so not qualified for this. Especially when sober

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I think we should stop giving Lance family problems and instead give everyone else family problems and then drag him into all of them as universe's most unpaid and unqualified therapist. As god intended

[masochistkatsuki]

Team Player - How to Fuck Mina 101

Pt One ← Pt Two → Masterlist

After taking on Mina's challenge of fucking everyone in your friend group, (and getting caugh up with her) you strategically go for the easiest ones first once finally in the club.

Eijirou Kirishima is flustered easily, especially under the bright bar lights. Too sweet for his own good, in an attempt to find the plot again, you show him how Mina likes it.

Although an hour late, the entire group was together, dressed head to toe in the cutest outfits they'd been waiting to wear. Well, mainly the girls, the guys were just worrying about making sure Katsuki didn't start a fight with anyone.

The moment of truth.. After you gave the group a pep talk, giving them a rundown of all the tips and tricks to lie better. It was kinda scary. You walked up without further hesitation, oddly enough, all the training you'd done was useful for things like sneaking into clubs underage.

Thanks to your confidence, the others' slight uneasiness didn't seem to go noticed. You were in. "Holy shit ! You're scary, (Nickname)”

"Oh shut up" You pushed Kaminaris head out of your space, going right to the bar with Jirou. "I got us in, now enjoy it. Maybe pay me back" You smirked while looking over the strongest and most expensive options containing vodka.

"Well.." Denki looked around, praying the others would end what he started. He was the unemployed friend, surely you guys wouldn't make him pay again..?

"Yeah! Drinks on Denki !" Mina cheered, joining you and Jirou at the barstools. You all held back laughter, the girls turning red. It's been an inside joke to see how long you could make Kaminari pay before totally went broke. Cruel ? Yea. But you still paid your fair share.

Third Year work studies were a different type of exhausting, especially if you qualified to work a job on off days. So it's been a minute since everyone got to catch up, and it was definitely needed.

You listened carefully, cat-like in your analysis. Your plan was to knock Kirishima out of the way, so by the time you were done fucking everyone else, they'd completely ease into their relationship.

You looked back at Mina one last time, asking for permission to actually go at her man. Of course, all you got was a mischievous grin and thumbs up. Fine.

‘This one is for Mina and me in the first year..’

Throughout the night, you got closer and closer to Eijirou. He wasn't drinking tonight. Usually he would, whilst Bakugou drove. But for mysterious reasons, Katsuki decided he was drinking tonight.

It wasn't bad, though. You could make advances on him without any intoxication messing with his head. You drank a bit at first, letting a small buzz take you in. It wasn't nearly where you wanted to be, but now that you knew you could get into places, you just held hope for next time.

You used the impression of you being more intoxicated to test the waters with Eijirou. 'Sorry, Ei! I know this is kinda crazy..’

It was you two alone, against one of the back walls. "Dancing isn't as fun when you're sober" He laughed awkwardly. Usually you'd disagree, finding fun in anything. But even you weren't tipsy enough to look at the wave of sweaty bodies and think joining in was a good idea.

"Yea." You rubbed at your neck. "Well, we don't have to just sit and watch, y'know Kacchan will beat anyone who messes with our girls."

He sighed. "Yea. fuck hope Sero and Kaminari are taking care of him." He leaned more comfortably against the wall.

Here's your chance. "Don't worry, Ei. You know they'll be fine." You linked your arm in his, intertwining your fingers with his. "We don't have to stay here." 'Hes inexperienced, and pent up.’ You were right. He got going real easy.

He seemed shocked, but didnt pull away. Eijirou Kirishima leaned into your touch a bit, his ironically brick colored eyes looking down into yours.. "But Mina."

You sighed, matching his energy tenfold. Your body weight was almost completely against his. To him, it probably felt like fluffy pillow hugging him, but that wasn't the point right now. "Trust me, this is because of, and for, Mina.”

You felt his arm harden slightly, one of the biggest giveaways he was using his quirk to keep it in his pants. You're getting there. He was curious, and clearly not against it. Just in his classic manly way, he wanted to make sure no girls were getting hurt.

But before he could question further-- "Hey guys." Katsuki broke them out of their small personal world sternly. 'Fuck.. He's totally pissed.!" He looked in-between the two, clearly in a mushy position. "Our tables ready."

You probably shouldn't have been surprised. Bakugou never commented or cared for whatever romantic or sexual fling was happening, friend group or not. Still, the fact the pairing didn't surprise him at all was odd.

You thought that, until : While walking to your table, you saw Katsuki give Kirishima a small nod. Oh. This was definitely going to be interrogated out of Kirishima later.

Bright flashing lights, radio station hits with bass that shake the floor, cheap perfume and alcohol mixing together as one smell, the group of seven "22" year olds were appreciating it all.

It should be the best night of their third year! They finally convinced Momo to make them fake IDs, (Thank you Jirou) but even so, there was an unmistakable tension.

Mina and you were always up to something, but this time the vague references and overall suspicious demeanor was setting everyone off more than usual. There was definitely something going on with you two.

This was only solidified when you actually got a booth and sat down. You'd been on about an half hour wait-list, pre gaming at the bar. In that time, you and Mina had already set the tone.

How things usually went when the guys and girls got drunk together, was the go-to pairings :

Kirishima and Mina (Obviously)

Sero and Jirou bullying Kaminari

You and Katsuki

The pairs of two usually had some sort of tension, and it was an obvious sign of intimate stuff. It was an ongoing thing to "cock block" the others who were talking, even if they were talking normally. Its funniest when you tell Katsuki you cockblocked him and lzuku. You just need to run fast enough.

Now at the booth, it was time to finally dial up the heat. You were closest to the wall, Kirishima on your right. Next to him was Jirou. On the other side, you had Mina across from you, and going to your right, was Katsuki, Denki, and Sero.

Jirou was observant, but she wasn't going to freak out over any under the table flirting. She’d definitely just ignore it. The boys who are more.. Never let the group chat forget this happened, thankfully on the other side observing Katsuki and Mina.

A few minutes in, you threw your leg over Eijirous, linking them together. He looked at you, eyes wide. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. It was totally wrong, but you thought the dazed look in his eyes was priceless.

He looked away after noticing the look in your eyes, opting to use his larger hand to pull your thigh further up his. Kirishima, despite being awkward and clumsy, was really fucking hot sometimes. Throughout the night, he kept that hand on your thigh.

Even when he drove everyone back to Seros, you calling shotgun next to him. His arm resting on your seat while looking out to back up, his eyes on yours in the mirror, and fuck how he sqoze your thigh harder during turns. You were definitely ready to start.

"Kirishima.." You sighed. You were getting nowhere. The issue was, you totally had a preference, and it was obvious. It was hard for people, especially men who were more sexually weak to break against the dynamic you'd set. "Two bottoms don't make a top, Mina loves herself a bitch boy every now and then but you'll need to take initiative." You huffed. It was almost annoying how perfect he was being.

He whimpered against your lips, his lower body lightly humping against Seros spare mattress. "S.sorry." He apologized, but most importantly, listened. He suddenly slipped two fingers in, and lapped his tongue around your clit.

"Fuck, Eijirou." You gripped his hair, pulling him in closer. "That's good. Mina likes when you start around the clit and focus in as she gets closer.!"

He hummed, seeming genuinely in awe. He was already totally whipped for pussy. "Like this ?" He took a break in, and flicked his tongue in a precise circle. When you gasped, he took the second to lightly pace his fingers in and out.

Your cheeks lifted up in a big grin. "You're doing amazing, Eijirou ! Similar to the clit, Mina enjoys when her g spot is just barely touched until the last moment. Make it a waiting game as long as possible."

Despite keeping your mind focused on the bigger picture, your body was getting heavier and hotter.

Midriff down, it felt as if a hot, damn towel was placed over your body.

Eijirou kept his fingers going, getting faster and faster every time he went in and out. His tongue kept getting closer and closer to where it was going to feel unbearably the best. "I think I understand.. now.. wanna make you come how you like it.." His head lifted up, unintentionally edging you. Oh, sweet Kiri. You definitely understand. You didn't have the heart to tell him, though.

You wondered about not what would only make you feel best, but what would be the hottest for a virgin and surprise for Mina. Though, your best idea did happen to be one of your favorites. "Kirishima, you're strong, right?”

His eyes widened, and a stark innocence shined. "Super strong ! I can do anything !!" You smiled and patted at his hair. He was being so good, how could you not?

"You're perfect, Eijirou." You leaned in, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. "I think I have everything planned out now, you just need to tell me if it's too much."

So that's how you ended up here. In the process of getting your best friend to fuck your other best friend, you had your legs spread out, hips sat heavy on Eijirou's mouth. You weren't sure if this was too much to start with at first, but it seemed to do the trick.

This definitely got Kirishima to take initiative, with the way his hands gripped at your ass and kept everything spread for him. The way he rocked you against his face, making you ride his tongue. He kept thrusting it in, mimicking the way you told him to tease before directly attacking. Fuck, hes a fast learner.

Your hands were tangled in his hair again, and you felt comfortable moving yourself against his face after some convincing (begging). Heat was surging back through you, and every hump made the weight drop deeper and heavier in your lower abdomen. "Kiri.. fuck.. I think I'm gonna.."

In a move you hadn't expected, Kirishima maneuvered his mouth to suck at your clit suddenly. It wasn't too harsh, but the perfect strength to send you flying over the edge. A hot wave seemed to rush through and out of you, squeezing your body in its path. He definitely passed this lesson..

You lifted yourself from his face, letting yourself take pleasure in watching him pant, breath shaky and higher pitched. His sweaty chest rose and fell, muscles unfairly taking up your entire focus. Freshman year you knew what was up.

"That.. was so good.. you're so good, " You leaned back on his lap, pleased when you felt how hard he was. He was fully there and past, his balls felt like they needed to come yesterday.

You looked up at him again, asking for permission. “Are you ready, Ei ?” In hindsight, it's funny how softly you asked. Because the way he fucked you when he finally got to put it in, was anything but. What can you say, though ? That's how Mina likes it.

Despite how good the stretch felt, and even though Kirishima had defied every idea you had of him, you dreaded how your legs would feel tomorrow. They were once again, spread as far as they could, perched up in the air while Kirishima’s strong form held you up while he bounced you against him.

"'Oh god.. fuck please."' his hips were snapping furiously into your soft spot, his eyes watering while he tightened his hands harder and harder around your smaller hips. Kirishima doesn't think he's ever felt this good.

"Please, my hand doesn't ever feel this good, this doesn't happen when i fuck into my pillow.. fuck please i need this." your thighs were pressed up between your body and his, your ankles and arms wrapped around his neck. he was fucking into you upright, gravity pulling your hips to naturally sit balls deep against his cock.

You smiled softly against his neck. He was so cute like this. He was fucking you like it was the end of the world, like he needed to break you in order to survive. But his eyes were so soft, voice so whimpery. Hands shaking, whining about how good you felt. “Go on, Kirishima. I already taught you how to put the condom on, so it's okay.”

His tip pushed roughly against your cervix, it was starting to feel overwhelming and you doubted you would come again after your last orgasm, but the loom on Kirishima's face when he got to cum after a night of teasing was worth it the sore legs the next week.

“Yes.. fuck.. thank you..” His hips stopped while deep in yours, and you felt the condom get noticeably warmer. His head fell into your chest, drool slightly dripping from his mouth onto your sternum.

“You did good, Kirishima. Now go man up to Mina and show her what you can do !” The previously fucked out and sleepy redhead shot up, his fist pumping through the air.

“Yea !! I'm going to show her how manly I am now !!” He rushed to pull his pants back on, but in the post dick daze you almost forgot something.

Just as he was about to exit, you stopped him. “Wait, by the way !” He looked back, expectantly. You held out a glass of water, with a lemon slice stuck into the rim. “Remember, Mina loves citrus after sex.”

a/n : sorry if this is choppy, i had trouble getting into this one so sections have been written at different times when i got random motivation . i may revamp it at some point, but i didnt want to beat around the bush

tag list : @hyunjinshairband7 @icarusthefoolish @adv3rs1ty @waterfal-ling @hon3y-13mOn05 @sugerglidder @scr4luv @hauntedcomputerobservation-blog @pinkpantheris @yogupink @cupkiki

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 36

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Reader and Em celebrate their first Thanksgiving together and she finally meets Kim.

MARSHALL’S POV 

-FLASHBACK- 

The last thing Marshall expected was to get married again. After his second failed marriage to Kim, he swore he was done with marriage, and that he was done with her. He still loved her very much but he had to admit it eventually : it was never going to work between the two of them. Letting go of her and of their relationship was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do (even getting sober seemed easier than this), but he knew he had to, at least for the sake of his daughters. Every time they got back together after a breakup, the girls got their hopes up and it was heartbreaking. Plus, they were growing up and already smarter than their parents. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize that they were struggling, constantly cheating on each other, abusing substances… They simply couldn’t keep going on like this. When he got out of the courthouse after their second divorce was final, he swore he would never get married ever again, much less get back with her. And yet, more than a decade after, he was standing in a chapel with Kim, a minister and Paul as their witness. It wasn’t your usual wedding. In fact, it could barely qualify as a wedding. There was no service, no white dress, no guests… It was probably the best kept secret in America. Save for Paul and the minister, no one knew they were tying the knot again, not even his daughters. In fact, they were the last people he wanted to find out. They would never understand why their parents were getting married again. The first time, they got married on a whim, right before a tour. Kim had pressured him to propose because she feared he would be unfaithful while on tour (which eventually happened). The second time around, he actually pressured her into accepting when he proposed on the occasion of the fifteenth anniversary of their first date, only to file for divorce after less than ninety days of marriage. This time, though, that had nothing to do with love. He was marrying Kim out of necessity. She had tried to off herself, once again and, this time, she almost succeeded. If paramedics hadn’t been remarkably quick to save her, she would have left four children behind. Marshall was distraught by the thought that his kids could lose their mother. He knew he had to step up and do something. Especially when he was the one to blame in the first place for her substance abuse. 

Kim was a bit hard to convince this time, when he suggested they get married, but she ended up agreeing that it might make sense. If he was her husband, he would be able to make medical decisions and if, God forbid, something had to happen to her, it would be his responsibility to take care of her funeral, estate and her son’s upbringing. Otherwise, it would fall onto his daughters to do it all and care for Parker, but they were far too young for this. Kim didn’t love him anymore but she had always relied on him and his support when it came to her health, so she accepted. None of them were especially happy to tie the knot again but, at least, things would be taken care of. 

They got married in the utmost secrecy, Paul being the only person they knew who was aware of the wedding. Of course, the manager tried to dissuade him from marrying Kim again, but to no avail. The whole thing was expeditive : it took ten minutes, both of them wearing sweat suits and sneakers, no rings, going their separate ways after. Him leaving for a studio session in California, her going back to her rehab center. 

After that, they didn’t see each other for months, though they often spoke on the phone. They didn’t really mention being married again, save for a couple of jokes about how it might actually be their most successful attempt at a marriage. Maybe it was the best kept secret after all : you can be successful in marriage if you don’t love your spouse, don’t live with them and are only in this for practical reasons. They also didn’t really worry about a potential divorce. They had signed a prenup that would make it easy but they highly doubted it would come to that. They were pretty adamant about never getting married ever again (for real this time), to anyone else. They’d been broken up for a while and they didn’t love each other like that anymore, but they were in agreement that it would be unlikely for any of them to fall in love again, with anyone else. She wasn’t in a psychological state to date, and he was unavailable emotionally. As far as he was concerned, music was the only lady he was committed to, and he could make do with one night stands. When your relationships with women have been failures, you start to resign eventually. So he was at peace with his decision. It wasn’t like he wanted to be in a serious relationship with someone ever again anyway. 

-END OF FLASHBACK-

He never really expected to regret marrying Kim for the third time. That was until Y/N walked in his life and things became more than serious between the two of them. At the beginning, even though he was head over heels in love with her, he sort of expected things to blow up between the two of them, so he didn’t bother telling her he was married. And sure enough, that’s what happened : they broke up because they were not in agreement when it came to the future, namely the topics of marriage and kids. He was distraught when she left but he didn’t blame her : she deserved to be happy and to have all her dreams come true. He knew he could not marry her and give her kids anyway. Letting her go was hard, but he loved her enough not to stand in the way of her dreams. But, by some divine miracle, she came back to him and their relationship got serious pretty fast. They even moved in together. He knew he probably should tell her, but he could never find the right time. First, they got back together, then some drama ensued when she learned that his assistant almost blew him a few days earlier, then they went on vacation with his family, then they almost broke up because he was a trauma-ridden asshole… He didn’t want to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to lose her. He could have gotten over his guilt by telling himself that no one else knew anyway, but when she mentioned him not being married to Kim anymore, he could barely ignore it. He knew he would have to tell her eventually, and hoped that she would understand. Because there was no way he could live without her. She was the one he wanted to grow old with. She might very well be the love of his life. So much so that, if he hadn’t been married to Kim, he might have considered proposing. That’s how in love he was. But for now, he could only pray everything would go well for their first holiday together. 

Y/N’s POV 

It was your first Thanksgiving with Marshall and you were happy to spend your first holiday together as a couple, after an eventful week. It was your first time seeing his brother and his family as an official girlfriend and, most of all, you were finally going to meet Kim. You knew you didn’t really have anything to worry about - Marshall had been pretty adamant - but you were starting to feel nervous as she walked through the door and you set your eyes on her for the first time. She was much taller than you, rather charismatic. There was something about the way she carried herself that made her sort of impressive. 

Hi ! You must be Y/N ! I’m Kim. It’s so nice to finally meet you, she said in a friendly tone. 

You too, you said shyly. 

Marshall stroked the back of your hand before greeting her. Their daughters were here, as well as Parker, Kim’s son, which made things less awkward. Nate and his family arrived too and the house was soon filled. It was a laid back atmosphere and Marshall seemed happy to have the people he loved around him. He was joking around with his brother and his nephews, whom he hadn’t seen in a very long time. They also remembered you and seemed happy to see you. 

Uncle Marshall ! Is it true that you have a girlfriend now ? Carter asked. 

It’s true, Marshall beamed. 

Hard to believe, huh ? Nate chimed in. The old man finally found someone to put up with him ! 

Where is she ? His nephew asked in excitement. 

I’m right here, you chuckled. 

Wait… I thought you were Hailie’s age, Liam asked with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

This is going to be fun, Nate said with a huge grin. 

Everyone was staring at the two of you with smirks on their faces. You blushed a little. You absolutely weren’t ashamed of your age difference, but you knew Marshall was a little more prone to this feeling. Also, there was something a bit unsettling about a child confronting you about it. 

Well, uh… I am Hailie’s age, you simply said. But sometimes, grown-ups fall in love with people who are a bit older. Or younger.

Yeah, but Uncle Marshall is like… really old, Carter said. 

Why, thanks, buddy, Marshall replied with a grin. So you expected me to end up alone or…?

No ! I figured you’d make friends at the retirement home, Liam shrugged. 

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter. Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and you could resist pecking his cheek. « I’m not that old » he muttered grumpily. Everyone hung out together and, once again, you proved bravery was not your strong suit. You methodically avoided standing anywhere near Kim. She was towering around six feet and you were feeling ridiculously small next to her. And she was definitely impressive, with some sort of mysterious aura. She was nice but, at the same time, keeping to herself and, whenever she spoke, she had some sort of sultry voice. For the first time ever, you felt conscious about your own voice and accent. Up until now, you had managed to stay sane and reasonable but you were starting to wonder what Marshall saw in you. You were not like Kim at all. Were you even his type…? Even Tracy had more in common with her. You, you were younger, nowhere near as charismatic either… To add to your misery, Kim even managed to make Marshall laugh. They obviously had their own inside jokes. Hailie, Alaina and Stevie seemed happy to spend the day with the two of them, though, and that was obviously the most important thing. 

I have a present for you, Stevie told you. Well, you and Dad, actually. 

I didn’t know we were supposed to exchange presents, you said shyly. 

We don’t, she giggled. And it’s nothing fancy ! But I hope you like it ! 

She handed you a small bag and you sat on the couch to open it, Marshall by your side. It was a photo album of gorgeous pictures she had taken with a disposable camera during your family vacations in Europe. There were a lot of candid shots of you and Marshall, that you hadn’t noticed her taking in the moment. One of the pictures was printed out and put in a frame. 

I thought you might want to have at least one picture of the two of you on display in the house, she said. 

You hugged her, almost emotional. It was a really beautiful shot of the two of you in Capri. It was taken from the back and Marshall was holding you and kissing your temple. You had spent a day on the island while you were in Italy and you absolutely loved it. You looked at the pictures in the album, reminiscing of your time in Europe. Some of them were really cute and sweet : Marshall sleeping on your shoulder on the jet, you, Hailie and Alaina drinking mocktails in Italy… Everyone looked at the photo and the girls provided commentary. 

We should really do this again, Alaina said with excitement. Europe was great ! 

It was, Marshall said with a smile. Maybe we could do that again. 

You got this man to travel and actually enjoy it ?! Nate asked you in disbelief. 

And she got him to reduce the amount of security, too, Stevie pointed out. We had a great time in Europe ! 

Who are you and what have you done to my brother-in-law ? Ashley joked. 

Is it Thanksgiving or is it “Let’s make fun of Marshall” day ? Marshall asked with an eye roll. 

Overall, you had a good day with everyone. You got to watch Marshall win his basketball game against Nate and everyone seemed to enjoy your cooking. Kim complimented you on your dish and joked that Marshall would definitely put on a few if you kept on feeding him french food. They joked around a lot and seemed like friends. In a way, they probably were. After all, Marshall had told you they met when he was fifteen and stuck together through thick and thin. After dinner, the whole family lounged in the living room, playing video games, drinking mocktails, talking… You had a great time with Nate, who made a point to call you his “favorite sister-in-law”, loud and clear right in front of Kim, who just rolled her eyes and pretended not to hear a thing. You didn’t really have the details, but you gathered they didn’t exactly get along. At some point, though, you realized that her and Marshall were nowhere to be seen. You did your best to appear unfazed. Once you were done, you stepped outside for some fresh air. You weren’t exactly big on gatherings and could feel a headache was on its way. You spotted Marshall and Kim talking from afar, seemingly having a serious conversation. At first, you didn’t think too much of it but jealousy poked its ugly head out when you saw her giving him a hug. You scoffed and went back inside, not willing to subject yourself to that. Hailie came to see you, making small talk. 

I wonder where Mom and Dad are, she said. Have you seen them ? 

I think they’re outside, talking, you replied with feigned ignorance. Do you want to go and get them ? 

It’s fine, she said. They’ve been out a long time, though. They’re probably talking about Christmas presents or something like that. 

You shrugged and quickly switched to another subject. The two of you went to the kitchen to make some tea and talk about what you could get Marshall for Christmas. She gave you a ton of ideas, which was pretty great. At some point, Kim and Marshall walked in and he chastised you for clearing the table and doing the dishes without him. 

You could have let me do it, he groaned. 

There it goes, Kim said playfully. Not a holiday unless Marshall gets grumpy. 

Not an actual day if he doesn’t get grumpy, you said with a smirk. 

Seems like you know him pretty well, she grinned. 

I don’t like this, Marshall sighed before pulling you to him and kissing your temple. 

They’re ganging up on you, Dad, Hailie warned. 

At least my children are nice to me, he said. 

Only because I need a favor, she said with a small smile. 

I knew it, he said with faux exasperation. What do you want ? Or should I ask how much this is going to cost ? 

Do you remember that one jacket that you had in one of your music videos ? I’d like to borrow it. We’re recording a new podcast episode soon and I have an outfit idea in mind, she said. 

Don’t you have your own clothes, though ? He asked with a smile. 

My followers love it when I pay tribute to you, she said. I’m merely indulging them. Please ? It’s Thanksgiving. 

Fine, he shrugged. But I’m going to need more details because “that one jacket from that one video�� is a bit vague, Hay. 

Let’s just go look ! 

They went upstairs, leaving you alone with Kim. You were tempted to run away from the kitchen but it was impossible for you to do so without being painfully obvious. You were uneasy but she, on the other hand, seemed pretty comfortable. Why wouldn’t she, though ? She’d lived in that house for a while and she wasn’t new to the family either. She wasn’t the one out of place, here. You were. 

It’s, uh… It’s cute that she’s paying tribute to him in the podcast, you commented in an attempt to make small talk. 

It is, she replied with a smile. They have such a great relationship. He’s a great Dad. 

Yeah, he’s a great person, you said honestly. The best.

You’re all gushing, she teased. 

Sorry, you said awkwardly.

No, it’s sweet, she said. He’s really amazing so I’m happy he is with someone who sees it. 

I mean, he’s always been incredible to me, since we met, you confessed. 

About two years ago, right ? She asked with genuine interest. 

That’s right, you said. Our relationship is more recent, though. 

This, he told me, she chuckled. I probably shouldn’t tell you but he won’t shut up about you. 

Really ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Oh, absolutely, she said. I think he even told me about you before you started dating. But that stays between us. 

Only if you told me what he said, you replied with a smile. 

The first time he ever mentioned you was when you had that incident at the bar, she said. He was pissed and worried. I could tell you meant a lot to him, by the way he talked about you. 

Oh wow, you said. I wasn’t expecting him to tell you about this. 

He doesn’t tell me everything, don’t worry, she chuckled. I happened to catch him on a day when he was pissed about it and he ended up telling me. But I could see he liked you. You know, it’s not often that he falls so hard for someone. 

I guess I’m pretty lucky, you said. 

I’d say he’s the lucky one, she pointed out. Seems like you gave up a lot to be with him. I mean, you moved to another country.

Yeah, well… He’s worth it, you said. I tried being without him and I didn’t like that. 

I saw him when you were broken up and he didn’t like it too much either, she said. You’re good for him. 

You think ? You asked with genuine curiosity. 

Well, you’re the only woman who got him to do therapy, she pointed out. Tried for years and he never agreed to it. 

You were surprised he told her about that, too. It was definitely weird, discussing your relationship with his ex wife, but her attitude put you at ease. It seemed like she genuinely wanted him to be happy. 

I’m really happy for you guys, she continued. I also wanted to thank you for having me today. I mean, you could have refused to meet me or have me in the house at all, a lot of people would have, but you didn’t. 

You debated telling her you couldn’t have put up much of a fight even if you had wanted to, since Marshall didn’t really give you a say in the matter. 

You’re welcome, you said. It’s a family holiday, both of you should be able to enjoy it with your kids. 

I’m really glad you see it this way, she said. It looks like we’ll be seeing each other a couple of times a year for a long time, so I’m really glad we get along. 

You’re not at all like I imagined, you couldn’t help but say. 

Meaning ? She asked with a grin. 

I mean… You know. You’re nice. 

She let out a hearty laugh and placed a friendly hand on your shoulder. 

Did you expect me to be the mean ex-wife full of spite ? She asked with a smirk. 

No… I mean… Kind of ? You explained sheepishly. For the record, no one spoke ill of you. But I figured… You know, there’s history. And usually, ex-wives and new girlfriends don’t get along. 

Well, there comes a point in life where you just have to accept that things don’t work out, she said. I’ll be honest : I will always love Marshall. He has saved me in more ways than one. But I’m just not in love with him anymore, you know ? Now, we’re just rooting for each other to be happy. And if that’s any comfort, I was a bit anxious to meet you, too. 

Were you ? You asked in surprise. 

Of course ! He told me you were amazing, and I know the girls like you, but… you know. You’re still the first person he fell in love with after me. It’s the end of an era. I’m not proud of it, but I guess I sort of liked having this bond with him, she explained. But hey, I’m happy for you guys. I really am. I mean, you’re so much nicer than the last one I met anyway… 

Who was it ? You asked with curiosity. 

Tracy, she said as she rolled her eyes. I hate that woman. 

Just like that, the two of you were like old friends. Proof that no one gets people closer than hating on the same person if there was ever a need for one. There was no real depth to it, just Kim feeding you old gossip and hating on Tracy. You were giggling like schoolgirls when Marshall walked back in the kitchen. 

Everything alright ? Marshall asked with his eyebrows furrowed. 

Yes, you said with a genuine smile. 

I’m telling your lovely girlfriend what a terrible man you are. Just so that she knows what to expect, Kim said jokingly. 

Marshall glared at her, obviously not amused by the joke and she simply shook her head before going back to the living room, leaving the two of you alone. 

She didn’t say anything, you reassured him. 

What’s with all the giggling then ? 

Secrets, you chuckled. You’re right, she is pretty cool. 

Mmmh, he said with a small frown. 

He seemed pretty preoccupied, as if he were actually worried that Kim might let something slip. However, you didn’t pay it too much attention. You’d had a few talks about how abusive he’d been in the past, and you figured he just didn’t want you to be reminded of that, especially when you’d gone through a rough patch. You took advantage of no one being in the room to pull him in for a deep kiss. 

I’m so in love with you, he said. 

I love you too, you said. I’m so glad we’re celebrating our first Thanksgiving together. 

Me too, he replied. I can’t even tell you how happy I am that you get along with my family. Nate told me earlier how great he thinks you are. You’re so perfect. I’m so blessed to be with you. 

So… Am I on the list of what you’re thankful for ? You mused. 

You are the list, he said before kissing your forehead. 

The two of you went back to hang out with the others. Everyone was sitting on the couch while Stevie was showing them something on her iPad. 

You guys are just in time for my yearly presentation, she said with a smile. 

Shit, I thought I managed to miss it, Marshall chortled. 

What presentation ? You asked. 

Every year on Thanksgiving, Stevie tried to guilt trip us into adopting pets from the shelter she volunteers at, Nate explaied. 

They need a home, she pointed out. 

As long as it’s not my house, Marshall said with a grin. 

We usually get out of it by donating a bunch of money, Alaina said. 

You sat on the couch, curling on Marshall’s side as Stevie did her presentation, starting with dogs. Then, she got to cats and, as soon as you saw the first one, you fell in love. It wasn’t a cute kitten you would have expected to swoon over. It was a thirteen year-old cat with feline dwarfism that gave him a grumpy look. He had a few patches of missing hair and wouldn’t qualify as a beautiful cat but there was something about him that drew you in. 

Oh my God, he is adorable, you said. 

Adorable ? That… thing ? Marshall asked with a grimace. 

Have you seen him ? You asked him with love in your eyes. 

Have you ?! 

He’s old, and he’s grumpy, and I love him already, you said. 

Old and grumpy… I think that woman has a type, Kim said, causing everyone to laugh. 

Marshall looked at you while you made eyes at him while whispering “please, please, please”. After a few seconds he sighed and agreed. 

Alright, he sighed. I guess we’re getting a cat. But please give him a cool name. I can’t have a cat with a stupid name like “Fluffy”. 

It should be rap-related, Alaina suggested. 

I like that, Marshall said. 

How about Mew Tang Clan ? You asked. Or Wiz Catlifa ? He looks like a Wiz ! 

Ok, Marshall chuckled. Anything you want. Let’s go for Wiz Catlifa. 

You jumped at his neck and kissed his cheek, feeling like a kid on Christmas Day. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. You’d had a shitty week but you were incredibly happy, with the man you loved by your side, who agreed to go to the shelter with you the following week. 

Eventually, after a while, everyone left. Kim was the last one to say her goodbyes. As she went through the door, she turned to Marshall and looked at him with a smile. 

Oh, and, Marsh ? You’re off the hook. Happy Thanksgiving. 

You had no idea what that meant, and you figured out it was one of their inside jokes or something like this. You were just happy that everything had gone smoothly. Plus, you actually like Kim and were happy to get along with her. Marshall, however, seemed a little puzzled. He nodded silently. 

You were all relaxed as you went to bed. The nerves had drained you out from your energy.

Are you alright, babe ? Marshall asked as you rested your head on your pillow. 

Tired, but I had a good time. I can’t believe we’re getting a cat ! You said giddily. 

Only you could make me agree, he chuckled. When our last cat died, I swore we wouldn’t get another one. But if it makes you happy… 

It does, you said with a smile. I love him already. Have you seen him ? 

I have. You picked me so I knew you had bad taste but this… This is ultimate proof, babygirl, he chuckled. 

Shut up, you said with a pout. I won’t have you speak ill of our cat. 

“Our cat”, he said pensively. I like the sound of that. It’s like starting a little family with you. 

You giggled and nuzzled his neck, placing a small kiss there and prompting him to pull you closer to him. 

You’re all romantic, you said. 

You’re worth it, he said. I love you.  And the whole family fell in love with you, it seems. 

Did they ? 

They did, he nodded. Even Kim. I don’t know how you did that, honestly. 

Maybe she’s just pretending, you said. 

I don’t think she is, he said intently. Whatever. I’m just happy they like you. 

You nodded and nuzzled his neck. 

Happy Thanksgiving, my love.

[sushiwriterhere]

two: required texts

flight path

summary: "It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake."  rating: mature (eventually explicit, 18+ mdni) pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader word count: ~6.9k lol warnings: angst, masturbation ment, enemies to lovers!, college au!, eventual smut, hangman being hangman, no use of y/n.  notes: dedicated to @waklman bc u entertain my insane dms <3 pls pls pls let me know what you think everyone!! masterlist here this fic is being posted from my queue while I have little access to the internet. any tag list requests/fic replies will be slow; thanks!

"Jake said you were coming to our party this Friday?" Bradley's smile is so genuine, so unlike everything about Jake, "Never thought you'd agree but it'll be good to see you."

Sometimes you regret making things so sour with Jake, because Bradley’s actually really sweet. He’s been letting you and Jake duke it out about your project at their breakfast bar counter while he cooks in the background. He’s kind of always on FaceTime with someone, usually a girl, and he even makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. Something about the flakey sea salt just does it.

Bradley is the kind of guy you think you might settle down with one day. Bradley doesn’t throw his hands up in the air at you in frustration when you argue about what exactly qualifies as sustainability, and he certainly does not make deals with you to try and get you to come to frat parties.

That being said, he looks so happy to hear that you might be joining them that you really don’t have the heart to knock him down. 

“Oh, yeah, Jake–” You consider your words carefully. 

Jake hadn’t explicitly said that the deal was to be kept hush-hush, but you didn’t really know how much you wanted people knowing that you were willing to trade your introvert lifestyle just to ensure a good grade. Plus, it felt just a smidge pathetic that that was what you’d caved to. 

“Jake told me he talked you into it in exchange for going with your lead on your project, but it doesn’t seem to really be working.” Bradley’s laugh fills the hallways of the lab and you feel yourself tense up. 

God, you really did get the short end of the stick if it was that obvious that Jake wasn’t holding up his end of the bargain at all. 

“Yeah... well...” You trail off, twisting your hands in front of you until someone calls you name at the end of the hallway.

Bradley looks at you, his gaze a little too knowing, before you both wave goodbye and you take off toward the sound of your supervisor’s voice. 

Running into Bradley is one thing, he’s nice and doesn’t make you want to poke your eyeballs out, getting to the end of the hallway to see Jake standing in front of your professor with an easy-going smile on his face is another. Fantastic.

“Mr. Seresin here was just telling me that the two of you have been hard at work,” Jake bounces his shoulders just a little behind your professor’s back, as if rubbing it in how much he’d obviously been talking himself up in the few seconds before, “I have high expectations for the two of you.”

You resist the urge to call him a dumbass in front of the man who’s probably going to single handedly get you into MIT, and school your features into something a little more school-appropriate. You are not going to let him screw this, especially this, up for you. 

“Of course, Professor Simmons, we’re certainly putting our all into it.” Jake mock gags behind the professor’s back for a split second before he turns around, and then he’s the picture of academic excellence.

Simmons wanders off in the way he usually does, leaving just you and Jake standing in the hallway. Distantly, you know that you’re technically on the clock, but you’re well-liked enough that you can get away with a little time theft. No one’s had any complaints on time sheet day so far.

Jake rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, smile ever present. For a moment, he looks a bit unsure of himself, but the expression is gone even quicker than it came.

“What are you doing in the labs, Jake. Don’t you have some other poor girl to harass?” You cross your arms and stare expectantly at him– you’d rather spend your stolen time reading the New Yorker on your phone and not dealing with Jake Seresin.

“Was just dropping by to chat with Simmons, you know how it is. Office hours, etcetera, etcetera.” He’s at ease once again, his gaze trained fully on you.

“Why did you say etc like that?”

“Did you just say ‘e-t-c’?”

For a moment there’s complete and entire silence, the type that happens right before exams are handed out. Then, Jake starts howling with laughter, completely doubled over. You watch in horror, listening to his voice echo around the sterile hallways and probably right into every professor’s office. 

Once he’s done completely humiliating you, he stands up and wipes at his eyes, “Sorry, you just—you were lecturing me the other day about ‘histrionics’ and you’ve never heard etcetera said aloud have you?”

You bristle, teeth gritted, “I’ll have you know, you can say it either way.” He doesn’t need to know, but you haven’t heard it aloud.

“Oh, I was also looking for you.” His abrupt change of subject makes you nervous. 

You and Jake have admittedly been spending a lot of time together. After your first few hours at the library, Jake’s been making a habit of being around you. Like, a lot.

First, he’s always sitting next to you in your shared classes. You’re only taking four, and sharing three of those is just a lot of Jake-time. He mostly leaves you alone, thankfully, but he’s taken to poking you to get your attention for his random thoughts, turning his computer your direction to show you a funny meme someone sent him, and occasionally reaching over to doodle on your notes. He also always uses your shared seat rest.

You don’t know why you let him do it. But, if you were brutally honest, it’s kind of nice having him around. Despite all your petty disagreements, Jake’s a bright personality, and it makes your stomach flip in a funny way when he spots you across the quad and waves wildly to get your attention, or when he buys you lunch before your library sessions. You do keep bickering about nearly everything though.

That’s the second thing. Now, after your two classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays, the two of you will go to the library and study til the wee hours of the morning. On more than one occasion, he’s bought you coffee to sustain your hours of staring at complex equations and trying to apply to grad schools. 

(“What grad school are you applying to now?” 

“Nunya.”

“Okay, unless the top fifteen rankings have been updated since the last time I checked there is no grad school that—“

“Nunya business.”

“Very funny. Real mature. You’re really childish y’know that.”

“I’m childish? Remind me which one of us spent eighty five dollars at a candy store last week after taking forty five minutes to decide.”

“There’s a lot of options!”)

You two don’t make a lot of conversation but it’s getting easier to talk to him like he’s a normal person, like he’s anyone else. You still keep your cards close to your chest, though, unready to let him in fully and still not entirely trusting him. 

Once, you’d shared a bit about how much pressure you felt to get into a top graduate program, to ensure that your parents were taken care of as an only child. Jake had been surprisingly empathetic, and had shared some about his home life, which you suspected wasn’t as idyllic as he made it seem, but it had made you smile. 

“Youngest, with four sisters, I was a little doll,” He’d laughed. He never talked about his parents, really.

It had been an odd moment of peace between the two of you until he had teased you for the way you read out an equation as you were checking your work, and then it was back to trading barbs.

The third thing is that he hadn’t invited you to a party til this week, about four into the semester. Before he had, it hung over your head like an anvil–ominous, always present, and not exactly forthcoming on when it was planning on crushing you like a bug. 

He’d been too nice about it, assuring you that whatever you wore would be fine (“Just think... slutty?” “Don’t be sexist, Jake.” “What! That’s what the sorority girls say.” “Well, are you a sorority girl?” “I can be if you want me to be, sweets.” “You have issues.”). He’d also said he’d keep an eye out on you but that his frat brothers were all great people, and besides, Bradley would be around. You don’t really want to share how it makes you feel that Bradley had asked you if you really were attending.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re coming on Friday.” His smile softens into something more genuine than his usual wild grin. “Was worried I might’ve scared you off.”

You huff, “I’m not scared.”

The way he looks at you in that moment makes you want to shove him so he’ll stop staring at you, a combination of pity and something else you’re afraid to identify, “No, not at all.”

Then, his demeanor changes back into something that’s a bit more familiar to you as he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns to leave, “Besides, if you don’t come, we’re doing our entiiiire project on Naval mechanics. Bye!”

He’s gone before you can yell at him.

-

This isn’t who you are–outfits strewn all over the floor of your room, music blaring from your phone where it’s charging in the corner, a layer of nervous sweat starting to coat your forehead and palms. Nothing fits right or in a way that doesn’t make you want to lose your mind. 

For a moment, you wish that you were a sorority girl, surrounded by women who know all the cultural rules of what you’re about to walk into. It’s not in a “I’m not like other girls” way, but more in a “my parties consist of wine and boardgames”. You are excited, but you also just feel stupid. 

You jump about half a foot in the air when your music cuts off all of a sudden and is replaced by the someone singing “save a horse, ride a cowboy” at far too many decibels. Scrambling, you grab your phone from the far side of your bed and see that it’s Jake trying to FaceTime.

“When did you change your ringtone?” Is the first thing you say when you pick up, endlessly irritated. “Your voice is terrible, by the way.”

Jake just laughs, “Oh, it absolutely is not. And you left your phone unlocked when you went to the bathroom two weeks ago, it was the only logical course of action. How have you not noticed til now?”

“I keep my phone on silent like a normal person.” You try to angle the camera so he can’t see the fact that you’re only in a sports bra and that you are absolutely not dressed despite the fact that you need to leave relatively soon.

“Again with this normal person thing, sweets,” He looks like he’s walking through the frat house as you hear people in the background, and you have half a mind to ask if Bradley’s around but decide against it. Something tells you Jake would be, well, weird about it. “You have got to be the least normal person I know, and that’s saying something.”

The absolutely unimpressed look on your face makes him laugh, and you almost hang up until you remember that he could potentially be helpful with your predicament. He wasn’t helpful last time but maybe this time he will be. He at least knows more about what girls are supposed to wear to this stuff.

“Jake...” You start, unsure of how to even ask. 

‘Oh hey Jake, how am I supposed to dress slutty for the frat party you cajoled me into going to because this is really out of my comfort zone and I’m this close to just telling you we can do your stupid Naval aircraft idea so that I don’t have to deal with this’ is a decidedly bad start.

“Sweets...” He croons back at you over the phone as he sets you down on a bathroom counter. 

It’s then that you realize that he’s been shirtless this entire time, and is still very much shirtless. Look, you may have a deep dislike for Jake Seresin as a person, but you’re not blind. You have eyes. And your eyes are telling you that Jake is absolutely so fucking fine that you have sort of forgotten your question. 

He’s absentmindedly applying shaving cream to his face and bustling around the bathroom while opening drawers and humming to himself. You remain silent. 

You just sort of stare at him for a few seconds before he raises an eyebrow at you. It’s then that you realize you’re holding your phone at an atrocious angle and you’re supposed to be asking him how to dress for this and showing him the insides of your nostrils is definitely not going to be doing you any favors.

“Sweets, did you have something you were going to say or are you just going to spend the next thirty minutes checking me out?” Jake says it so nonchalantly it almost makes you hang up, but you’re caught off guard by how something as simple as watching him shave on FaceTime can feel so endearing and domestic.

“Very funny. I was going to tell you you have something sticking out of your nose but I guess I won’t now.” You huff, hoping it’ll distract him from the last two minutes of silence.

At the very least, it works. Jake frantically tries to figure out what’s danging from his nose while you try and regroup. 

“I need your help picking an outfit.” It’s dramatic, but it feels like a weight off your chest to say it, “I just– Well, it’s just that nothing looks good and I hate this.”

Jake sets his razor down and leans close to his phone so you can see only his face and nothing else, “Lemme see what’cha got, sweets.”

The next twenty minutes are, somehow, not entirely excruciatingly painful. Jake immediately vetoes every single one of your business casual outfits (“You are not wearing slacks to a frat party, sweets, be serious.”) but he’s nice about it. When you dive deep into your closet to pull out a box of items you haven’t thought about since you bought them freshman year, you really start to reconsider how much you don’t want to work on Naval mechanics. 

“Okay, you can’t be mean, I bought these freshman year in a moment of weakness.” You can feel how hot your face is and you barely manage to get through the sentence without stammering or hanging up on him.

You lay out the tops on your bedding–Jake had already approved of a pair of jeans you hardly ever wore. These pieces are much more party-oriented than anything else you regularly wear, and you remember how for a weekend freshman year you’d felt so alienated, so weird, that you’d spent almost three-hundred dollars on going out tops. You’d returned most of them but the ones in front of you you’d kept in secret hope maybe you’d get to wear them. 

“You are a liar.” Jake’s voice comes softly from your phone and you frown.

“I literally just asked you to not be mean. You can’t even not be mean when—” 

“Sweets, any guy here would pass away at the sight of you in any of these,” He says and you make sure the camera isn’t on you so you can contort your face into a silent scream, “Talkin’ about, ‘I have nothing to wear’.”

“Drama queen.” It’s all you can say, but the thought of him passing away at the sight of you? That might be more appealing than you’d like to admit.

-

God, it’s so fucking loud in here. You managed to arrive fashionably late, as Jake advised. Now, you’re just sort of standing by the doorway, unsure of where to go or who to talk to. 

Then, all of a sudden, Jake appears next to you, all bright eyes and white teeth as he bobs along to the music. He grabs your arm and pulls you into an excessively tight hug, one that smooshes your face into his chest and traps your arms at your sides. You try not to breathe in too hard, but you can’t really avoid smelling him (like a fucking weirdo). You’re only slightly disappointed to note that Jake smells really good. 

“Sweets! I thought you’d bailed!” He exclaims, letting you go only slightly so he can take a look at your face. “When did you get here?”

“Um, like ten minutes ago?” You try and push out of his arms but he’s got a strong grip on you–glancing to the side you see that he’s grasped his elbows so you’re completely stuck.

“Only one hour and fifty minutes left to go!”

And with that, you’re being hauled off by one arm through the frat house. You stumble on your feet but manage to catch yourself on Jake when you trip over a beer can someone just threw on the ground. He turns around with a glint in his eye.

“Sweets, if you wanted to cuddle, you should’ve just said so!” His tone is gleeful, but he steadies you gently anyway.

“Just get me a drink, Jake.” 

He doesn’t let you go but this time his grip is gentler and he walks at a human pace instead of trying to make record time. After turning a few corners, you finally arrive in the kitchen.

You have to admit, you’re sort of jealous. Your apartment isn’t tiny by any means, but you’d love to have a kitchen this sprawling, with its huge windows, what looks like a state of the art fridge, and granite countertops the sheer square footage of which could make you drool. You feel a rush of disappointment at how dirty it is in here, but you squash it remembering that this is a frat house. Clean is nowhere near part of these men’s vocabulary. 

Jake makes you a drink that seems to be some odd combination of liquors and juices (he avoids the jungle juice thankfully, almost turning green when you ask him if you should try some–“Not unless you want to spend all of tomorrow throwing up.”). When he hands it to you, he looks at you expectantly, like a child who just gave their parent a crayon drawing.

“Well? What do you think?” You grimace on instinct when the liquid hits your tongue, but you realize it’s actually not that bad. 

You tell him as much. Maybe you’re already starting to get drunk because it’s the only explanation for the way you think the look on his face could persuade you to drink three hundred cups of this if it means having him smile at you like that again. You keep drinking to avoid spilling your guts, figuratively.

Jake makes himself a cup while yammering on about planning the party, how he took shots with his frat brothers before you got here, and how he has a brunch planned Sunday with a few of his frat brothers. It’s all a bit too close, too intimate to be honest. Even with everyone around you, even with the way he almost has to yell so you can hear, it feels like it’s just the two of you. It makes you want to flee, but you force yourself to stay put in an effort to at least try.

And it’s not actually terrible. You keep sipping on the drink Jake made you, and try to engage with him. 

He’s in the middle of telling you a story about him and Bradley from freshman year when one of his frat brothers walks up to the two of you with a wicked grin on his face. 

“Now who is this, Jake?” He’s terribly handsome, but something about the way he’s looking at you sets you on edge. 

“Javy, meet sweets.” Jake gestures at you with his perfectly iconic red solo cup.

You roll your eyes at the introduction, “That’s not my name.”

But Javy doesn’t let you correct the record, instead his entire face lights up. He looks like a kid on Christmas as he wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and looks between the two of you, a gleeful expression spreading over his face. 

“You are famous in this frat, I hope you know that.”

You prepare yourself for a snide remark about your attitude in class, about your reputation, but instead Javy leans in close, so close that you can see how perfect his skin is (what the hell?), and he whispers conspiratorially, “Jake here never shuts up about you.”

The whisper clearly isn’t meant to keep much secret and Jake obvious hears him because he shoves Javy off him and starts waving his hands at him to shoo him off. When he turns back around, he’s blushing and you don’t think it’s from the alcohol or the heat. 

“Talking shit?” You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow expectantly, not knowing what you’d do with any other explanations. 

“Something like that. Want more to drink?” 

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, and he clearly doesn’t want you to remember this conversation either, because his next pour is overly generous. After that, he drags you out of the kitchen to ‘socialize’. He keeps you next to him, occasionally slinging an arm around your shoulders or even just leaning on you. 

Much to your dismay, Jake doesn’t let you wallflower, to disappear as you stand next to him–suddenly you’re being introduced to everyone in the frat. You grouse about being forced to remember a thousand different white men’s names and Jake’s laugh rises even above the din of the music and the chatter. You’re loath to admit it aloud, but it’s sort of nice, being included, being in on jokes and spoken to like you might have something funny or interesting to say.

Part of you wants to bring up what Javy said, because almost every guy that Jake introduces as being part of his frat smiles in the exact same way that Javy had. Like a cat who got the cream. But the alcohol is making your tongue heavy and you worry what might be said if you start down that path.

Then, you hear your name distantly, and you whip around to see Bradley making his way through the crowd waving wildly. Nearly missing elbowing some poor sorority girl in the head, he pushes past people. His face is flushed from drinking and the heat, and he’s got his phone pressed to his ear. Why he’s attempting to take a phone call in this type of environment, you’re really not sure.

When he gets to the both of you, he at least has the sense to hang up before he separates you from Jake when he sweeps you up into a bear hug that lifts your feet off the ground and crushes you to him. He seems so happy to see you, and you smile bashfully as you hug him back. 

Once your feet are back on the ground and Bradley’s released you, you notice how Jake has stiffened slightly beside you. He and Bradley engage in some long, complicated handshake that ends with jazz hands and eventually Bradley sweeps away in just the same way he came over. No words are exchanged, and Jake relaxes when Bradley’s out of sight.

“You’re being weird,” You accuse, leaning into Jake so you can get closer to his ear to be heard over the noise, “Well, you’re always weird, but you were being weird towards Bradley.”

“Was not.” Jake says haughtily, pouting lightly like a child. 

“You’re literally pouting right now.” You’re too tipsy to deal with him acting like you just took away his toy truck, and you poke his arm to emphasize your point. 

Jake immediately schools his expression before taking you by the arm and pulling you outside. His broad form clears the way for you and you do your best not to trip on any more beer cans. You two aren’t alone by any means, but here the sound has space to dissipate. There’s beer pong tables, a bonfire going (which, frankly, seems very unsafe), and people milling about. 

“Do you like Bradley?” The two of you are now standing off to the side of the sprawling deck behind the frat house, illuminated by a series of string lights that only seem slightly out of place for a frat house and Jake’s staring at you intently.

You shrug, “I mean, what’s not to like? It’s Bradley, I think we’re friends.” 

This is so awkward and you hate it with every fiber of your being.

He wrings his hands just a bit, and it strikes you that there’s a chance that he’s actually upset. It’s not the kind of annoyed that he always seems to take on when you two are going at it, it’s more genuine, like whatever he’s imagining might be enough to get him really worked up. He opens his mouth but then shuts it.

“Jake. What is wrong with me liking Bradley.” This is so ridiculous–standing in the backyard and trying to get Jake to talk about whatever issues he has or doesn’t with Bradley is probably almost as close to the opposite of socializing as just staying home would have been.

“You don’t like like him, though, right?” 

You roll your eyes and snap at him, “Jake, what is this, middle school?” He’s not calling you sweets, and when you notice, it bothers you just a tad more than you’d like to admit, “No, I like Bradley because he doesn’t yell at me when I correct his projections and he makes a mean chocolate chip cookie. He’s a friend.”

Everything about his demeanor changes in the oddest way when you say that, he peps up and it’s like the Jake that was pouty (jealous?) was never there, and he takes you by the hand, “Great! That’s solved then, let’s go play beer pong.”

You try to ignore the way you get emotional whiplash as he drags you over to the people standing around a folding table.

But you can’t help it. As Jake tries to teach you how to play beer pong you end up ruminating on whatever the hell that just was. Why would it bother Jake if you did “like like” Bradley? The two of you, you and Jake, could barely be classified as friends. Besides, as frat brothers, there’s no way both Jake and Bradley haven’t gotten around or even been with the same girl. No shame for anyone involved, but what’s his fucking deal? (And, Bradley’s a cutie, so what?) 

Eventually, you give up trying to figure out what Jake’s issue is as the two of you start losing at beer pong, and badly, given just how inebriated you are. Jake keeps trying to shout instructions every time you go to throw the ping pong ball and it keeps messing you up, so eventually you shove at him. He barely moves as he starts laughing at your anger.

“Jake! Stop messing me up!” You can feel how bad your coordination is from the alcohol as you stumble a bit as you lean your weight into him. “You’re making us lose!”

He can barely breathe through how hard he’s laughing at how far off your last shot had been, but he still steadies the both of you and wraps his arms around you, “Sweets you’re just too easy to mess up, oh my god. Are you even looking at the cups?”

You just hit his chest once as you start taking in the way that you’re pressed up against each other. He doesn’t let go of you. Instead, he just sort of lets you step back enough to have full control of your arms and continues standing at your side with his arms around your waist. Then, he starts leaning down to breathe instructions in your ear.

Normally you would find it in yourself complain about how gross having his breath in your ear is, but in that moment, already past tipsy and just enjoying the warmth of his body and skin against yours, all you can do is shiver. You fuck up your next shot worse than the last one. You hope it’s dark enough to cover how flustered you are as the patio lights glimmer weakly in the distance.

It takes your remaining sober thoughts to refocus on beer pong instead of how hard it hits you that you want Jake. 

It’s honestly the most fun you’ve had in a long, long, time and you lose yourself in it. Jake at your side, his arms wrapped around you, laughing loudly as you lose to team after team. He barely removes himself to make his shots. When he laughs it shakes your whole body. Every time he takes a step, he knocks your legs together so you move with him. 

You’ve continued drinking so you’re only getting progressively drunker and it only makes you focus on him more. You lose track of time completely and wholly.

Every time you turn to look at him or talk to him, Jake’s already looking at you. He keeps looking at your lips. In that moment, your rivalry, the project, and really, the entire world falls away. You have nothing to think about but how warm he is, how good he smells, and how you want to keep this moment in a jar so you can come back to it later. 

You think he might kiss you.

The moment breaks when you feel Jake’s phone start buzzing against your leg and he finally lets you go. In an instant, he takes a step back from you and his arms are gone. You didn’t realize just how much his body heat was keeping you warm in the cool evening air til he removes himself from you completely. You miss it immediately.

He steps off to the side, face completely impassive but frozen in a smile as he reads a text, and he starts typing furiously. The smile slides off your face as you think of all the girls in his phone who are probably waiting for his drunk “you up?” texts and you take a step back, putting more space between the two of you. Someone more important than you must want his attention.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go, sorry, sweets.” Jake says, but you don’t feel the apology as much as you do the rejection. It stings in the way a harsh winter wind burns at your cheeks, pricking your skin and raising the blood to your face.

Somewhere in your mind, you remember considering hooking up with someone tonight. That’s what people do, right? Get drunk, sleep with a stranger, then stumble home in last night’s outfit in the morning. And maybe somewhere along the way, maybe between drinks three and four, you’d thought about what it might be like to kiss Jake. At some point when you’d watched his eyes linger on your lips, you thought that was it.

You take a few steps back, trying to feel sober again, but swaying slightly without Jake to hold you, “Right.”

His face falls as he takes a step toward you, but the magic of the night is gone. There isn’t anyone standing on the opposite of the folding table anymore. The backyard is somehow too quiet despite the loudness coming from the house. Jake doesn’t reach for you when he sees the expression on your face. 

“I’ll uh, venmo you for the Uber.” His face betrays nothing but the cool indifference you remember from freshman year–are you really back to where you started after everything tonight?

Him offering to pay for you only makes you remember that you hate him–flirting with you all night then ditching you to go hook up with someone he actually likes. Classic Jake Seresin, everybody. 

-

You don’t care that he slept with someone else after how close the two of you were. You are deciding not to care. It does not bother you because you and Jake aren’t even friends, you are sworn enemies and the only reason you’re even going to these parties is so that you can ensure the project isn’t a flaming mess. 

You’re repeating these mantras to yourself from the moment you wake up, while you go to classes, while you avoid making eye contact with or speaking to Jake for fear he’ll know. You say it to yourself as you sit silently across from him in the library, headphones firmly over your ears so you don’t have to hear him ask if you want coffee. 

He brings you one anyway.

It’s clear that you are utterly failing to convince yourself, because all you can think about is how close he was, how the heat radiated off his body, how he smelled, and how his eyes flitted down to your lips ever so often. You feel like you want to crawl out of your own skin with the realization that you want Jake to want you. You’ve sort of always wanted his attention, it’s just that up until now it’s almost entirely been in the form of your little rivalry.

You find yourself scoffing as a thought comes to the forefront of your mind, It’s like in those romance novels. That shit does not happen to people like you.

The shame and desire washing through you reaches its peak when you find yourself biting into your fist with your hand between your legs a week after the party. All you can think about is how he’d smelled, how close he’d been to you, and the way his hands felt around your waist. You finish with a whine tearing itself from your chest and a deep sort of mortification coursing through your veins.

You can’t avoid him forever though, the work must go on. 

The thought of attraction goes as quickly as it comes when you find yourself sitting across from him at his and Bradley’s kitchen table again, the two of you bickering about a piece of analysis.

“Why do you refuse to listen to me, even the slightest bit, sweets? I’m literally second in our class, I can’t be an absolute idiot.” Jake looks at the ceiling as if some supernatural being will give him the strength to deal with you, and sighs heavily.

You clench your fists, “I’m not refusing to listen to you, Jake, I’m just telling you that you’re wrong.” You don’t remind him you’re first in the class.

Bradley walks in the kitchen, phone held casually in front of his face, a bag of chips grasped in his other hand. He stops to observe the two of you still arguing, now going on about a quiz question you two had disagreed on first semester sophomore year. He could be surprised that you and Jake have found something else to argue about, but then again Jake told him the two of you spent almost three straight hours arguing your first time together at the library. He’s also been witness to countless pointless fights about god knows what since the beginning of the semester.

“Can you two just fuck already, good god.” 

The room goes so quiet the only thing you can hear in your ears is your own heartbeat. Jake looks similarly mortified, cheeks turning red as he tucks his head to the side in clear embarrassment. The tips of his ears are bright red. 

Bradley, unaware of the absolute nuclear bomb that he just dropped, tucks his chips into the pantry, and leaves as the FaceTime call sound starts trilling from his phone. 

Neither you or Jake move. All you can think about is how you felt in that moment last Friday, Jake pressed up against you, his breath heavy in your ear, and his body solid and warm against you. You think about the way want had coursed through your veins when you’d been alone. But he doesn’t want you. His current reaction is evidence enough.

Jake’s the one to break the silence by muttering something under his breath. 

“What?” 

“I said, he’s one to talk.” He clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

You can’t take this, so you try to laugh a bit, but it sounds fake and tinny in your ears, “And I don’t know what he’s talking about. In case everyone’s lost their minds and forgotten, I do not like you, Jake Seresin.”

He laughs lightly in response and says, “People don’t use contractions when they’re lying.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. Because you don’t really know if there is anything to say. So you decide not to say anything to that, at all.

“You still owe me twenty five dollars for the Uber.”

“Twenty five—“ Jake sputters, “Twenty five American dollars? Where the hell did you have him take you? Downtown and back!? You live twelve minutes from the house!”

“I tipped well.”

Jake mutters something about tipping culture being out of control but you still feel the way your phone buzzes so hard it rattles some pens strewn across the table.

-

When the second invite comes, you decide preemptively that you’re not going to drink. Your deal with Jake was about attending and staying for two hours, it said absolutely nothing about drinking or generally partaking in party activities. You don’t want a repeat of last time–you want the arousal that spikes your bloodstream every time you see his face to disappear as quickly as it came.

You’re avoiding Jake in the frat house by ducking into doorways and keeping an eye out for a blonde head of hair the best you can. At one point, Bradley spots you and sends a confused look your way, clearly scanning for Jake. He doesn’t do anything about it, you guess, because Jake doesn’t come running within the next ten minutes. 

Keeping yourself pressed to the wall where the music isn’t so loud but you also can’t hear the way people are very obviously doing drugs in the bathroom, you count down the minutes til you can leave. 

About five minutes before, you decide to sneak a peek in the kitchen one last time. Maybe you can rob these assholes of some Oreos or something as divine punishment–revenge of the nerds, or whatever.

When you get to the kitchen, you realize you’ve found Jake. His back is to you, and he seems to be holding court. Surrounding him is a group of frat brothers most of whom you don’t remember, with the exception of Javy, who’s leaning his elbows on the countertop and listening about as intently as a drunk person can. 

“She’s fucking stuck up man, I don’t know how you do it. I don’t think being that obnoxious is a requirement to be top of the class.” One of the frat brothers that usually surrounds Jake scoffs. 

You feel all the blood drain from your face and you suddenly feel like being sick. Backing away from the doorway to the kitchen you almost trip over your feet at the speed you’re trying to get away from the conversation, from Jake, from the frat house. 

There it is–there’s your out. Your ick, if you will. Jake, standing in his perfect kitchen, surrounded by a bunch of barely matured fraternity bros, talking shit about you. It’s not that the feelings of hatred weren’t technically mutual, but the extent to which you complain about Jake is usually limited to surface level shit. 

If you had stuck around for just a moment longer, you would’ve heard the way that he defended you over a chorus of agreement from around him, “C’mon man, it’s not like that. Don’t say shit like that about her. She’s under a lot of pressure and you’re kind of a dick in class anyway.”

But you don’t stick around. Instead, you push your way through the mass of bodies, accidentally stumble through a smoke circle, and you still seem so far away from the exit. You pass by Bradley again, and this time he’s with the girl that he insists is just a friend, but they seem too cozy for that in the moment. You don’t stop to say hi. 

When you finally get outside, your chest is heaving and you think you might be sick, alcohol aside. 

This is exactly why you focus on academics. They gave back as good as they got, never betrayed you, never let their friends talk shit about you. Academics never called you “stuck up”, stopping short of biting out the insult “bitch”. God you’re so stupid. 

You should’ve never let him get close, you should’ve stuck to the project and just finished it without ever learning more about Jake beyond the bare minimum. No evenings spent crowded around a countertop covered in textbooks and notes, Bradley humming in the background as he cooked something delicious. No letting Jake buy you coffee or cafeteria food. 

This is exactly what you deserve for letting him in.

----------

tagging: @roosterbruiser @joaquinwhorres @sometimesanalice @seresinsweetie @bobfloyds @theharddeck @jupitercomet @dempy @gigisimsonmars @sunsetsimpsblog @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @kajjaka @clancycucumber230 @desert-fern @bibitches-r-us @cruelmissdior @chaoticassidy @blue-aconite

[bullet-prooflove]

A Perfect Moment: Neron 'Creeper' Vargas x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life @est1887 @mysoulisasunflower @drabbles-mc

Neron had never expected you to walk into his life. He didn’t expect a lot of things. His existence had taught him that expectations were a waste of time, that they could be dashed within a single moment. At least that was his experience.

He’s been a junkie; he’s been an addict. He’s done with all that now. Still there are times when he craves a drink or a fix, his fingers twitching when there’s a moment of quiet. He knows it’s best to keep himself occupied, which is why he carries around a sketch book, it’s A6, a tiny little thing that resides in his back pocket along with a black fineliner. He used to draw comics back in L.A. before the drugs took hold, stupid little things that he’d experienced in his daily life. The homeless man that he sat down with in The Valley, the hooker on the street corner smoking a cigarette and waiting for a john. He’d recreate them in his own style, the bold black and the stark white bringing them to life on a page.

He's picked it up again since he’s got sober this time around. It’s this third go but he’s determined it’ll stick; things are different now than they were before. He knows he can turn to Riz if he’s having one of those nights, if the cravings start to take hold, if the pressures too much. He knows Bishop will put him to work, keep him busy. That Coco will talk shit out with him if he needs it. The others. They’re there too, each in their own way. His support network is bigger now, more robust. He’s more resilient these days, he’s done the work, had the counselling, he knows what his triggers are. He knows that that temporary high doesn’t solve the bigger problem, that it’s a false economy.

It's the periods of silence that get him, it’s why he plays music all the time in the van. When his mind is unoccupied, it wanders so he gets out his little sketch book and he draws. He likes the way the pen feels on the page, the drag of it, the way the shades fill in the space. He could spend hours like this, locked over it, creating the things he sees in his head. He has thousands of them in his apartment, all neatly set aside in storage boxes.

When he sees you standing next to Hank outside the community centre, your skin covered in that beautiful expressive ink something happens. He’s not sure what it is, it’s like a switch flicks inside of him and suddenly his world is blossoming in colour. It’s overstimulating in a way, too rich and too saturated, he wants to switch it off, but he finds he can’t. Although it’s a real feeling, he’s never experienced it before. He’s not sure how to combat it, if it actually needs combating.  

He watches you through the window of the van. You’re poetry in motion, a flurry of hands and impression as you step up against the blank wall and gesture to the open space. Hank looks back down at the A4 sketchbook in his hands before nodding and jotting something down.

It takes Neron a second to realise who you are. He’s never met you before, but he’s heard about you, he thinks you must have crossed paths a hundred times, but this is the first time he’s actually laid eyes on you. He’s heard your voice through an open door down a corridor, he knows the timbre of it, the lilt of your accent.  He remembers thinking it was beautiful, it makes him think of steel cutting through silk.

You’re one of the tattoo artists Hank qualified with, you have a shop a few doors down by Felipe Reyes. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been past it, it always catches his attention. There’s such vividness in the colours you’ve used to decorate the storefront, it’s eye catching and subtle at the same time, like you he thinks. He doesn’t realise he’s stepping out of the van until his boots hit the ground, it’s almost a compulsion. His feet are moving on their own accord towards you and Hank. He’s not usually so brazen, underneath his bravo he’s shy, especially when it’s about something he cares about. That thought surprises him because formally he hasn’t even met you yet, but he’s decided he cares.  He cares about what you think, about who you are, he wants to get to know you. He’s not sure where that comes from.

You greet him a smile as he approaches and fuck if it doesn’t feel like there’s a fucking sunbeam blossoming in his chest. It’s like that moment you step out of your house and into the sunshine or the first time you see a rainbow on a rainy day.

“Neron.” He introduces himself when he takes your hand.

He notices that your fingertips are stained with paint, Hues of red, orange and yellow licking up your skin. They’re warm colours, he feels their heat as they brush over his flesh.

When you say your name, he smiles because it’s perfect. It flows off his tongue as he repeats it, like it was always meant to roll from his lips. Hank must sense something because he excuses himself, the left side of his mouth twitching up.

Neron finds himself sitting on the wall that lines the community centre, alongside of you, hips nudging as you both study the blank canvas in front of you. You describe your plans for the mural, show him the designs that the kids have been working on, explain how you plan to incorporate them. He admires your creativity, your drive to complete something that will show what San Padre’s all about in the aftermath of the poverty caused by the Galindo Agra Park project falling through.

He notices you squinting a little as you study the whitewashed wall because the way the lights refracting off it, so he hands you, his sunglasses. And fuck if they don’t look like they’ve belonged on you all along. As he sits there under the sun, talking creative shit he feels at peace.

It’s a perfect moment one he treasures for the rest of his life.

Love Creeper? Get added to his tag list!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[slayerchick303]

In honor of Pride, here are some more of my Queer as Folk hot takes:

I hate the Jenny Rebecca custody battle storyline. For one thing, it's tedious as hell. Also, I don't believe Ben would support Michael in that bullshit. Ben is all about balance and everything in moderation. There's no way he would be like, "We know these 2 women are good mothers, but because they're no longer a couple, that makes me and Michael more qualified to have custody of JR." Like, no. When Hunter's mother came back, he was all set to send Hunter back to her without a custody battle before learning how she abused Hunter. Him supporting Michael in the fight for Jenny Rebecca makes no sense.

The way the show resolved Ted's self-esteem problems sucked. They literally made him have to have cosmetic surgery to have any confidence. It would've made more sense for Ted to have overall better mental health and realize his self-worth after becoming sober and having therapy. It would've been a much healthier message for society, too.

The show making Drew Boyd gay was stupid. The guy is obviously bisexual. He says he has sex with a million women as well as men. He also says he's attracted to and loves his female fiancee while he's having an affair with Emmett. He's not gay. Making him, as well as Hunter and Lindsay, binary sexualities is bi erasure and is straight up nonsensical.

Michael is often an asshole in season 5, and I hate how judgemental his character becomes. Yes, it's good that Michael doesn't bend over backward to defend Brian as much when Brian would never do the same for him. Especially since Michael often shielded Brian from criticism from others when Brian's choices frequently went against Michael's own values. A moment I especially hate is when Michael and Brian are fighting in the empty Babylon when Brian is trying to convince Michael to drop the custody battle for JR, because it'll fuck over Lindsay (which Brian is totally right about). Michael says that Brian needs to grow up because Brian doesn't want a monogamous relationship, to get married, or to have children. It's fucking bullshit. Brian is not childish for not wanting those things. Brian calls Michael out on being a judgemental, sanctimonious, twat. Michael used to defend Brian for having different desires for his life because Brian's wants are 100% valid. When Michael gets married, moves to the suburbs, and has JR/fosters Hunter, he becomes this dick who thinks that if you don't have the same priorities as him, you're immature. That's a horrible belief and a total change from the accepting person he used to be.

There could have been a much better ending to Ted revenge fucking the guy (Troy) who pity fucked Ted as a Pride "gift" in season 2. Ted's initial plan to tell Troy he's Ted's pity fuck now is awesome, and Ted falling for him is 100% on brand for Ted's character. Troy continuing to be an asshole and them breaking up, despite both genuinely liking each other in the show, makes me a little sad. I have an idea for a much better end for them. Troy immediately boasts to Ted about his hobby of sleeping with "losers" as a joke in the show and that he did it to someone in Ted's building (not realizing it was actually Ted himself). Instead of what the show did, as Troy and Ted spent more time together, Troy could have seen how well Ted treated people. It could've made Troy realize that what he used to do was really shitty. We could've even seen Troy run into one of his pity fucks earlier on his own and apologize, saying that he was horrible, lead the guy on, was sorry, and hoped the guy found someone who saw how great he was. Troy could've expressed to Ted that being with him made Troy want to be a better person (because Ted does that for essentially everyone in his life by being so supportive and kind, especially after getting sober). It would've been amazing for that final night at Babylon to go a different way. Emmett could still come up to ask if Ted had dumped Troy yet, only to realize Ted had fallen for him. Then, instead of what the show did, all of them could've seen Troy apologize to the random guy he wronged who came up to him about Troy ditching him. It would've been great if Troy said after that that he wished he could find the guy he did the same thing to in Ted's building so he could apologize to that guy too, and that Ted had inspired him to take accountability. The gang could see Ted admit that he was Troy's pity fuck there. Troy could sincerely apologize in front of everyone and say he'd understand if Ted never wanted to see him again and/or if all of Ted's friends hated him. The gang could give Ted and Troy their blessing, and Ted and Troy could end up together. After all, Ted's friend group forgave people for MUCH worse behavior (i.e. Blake nearly killing Ted).

What are your Queer as Folk unpopular opinions? Tag me in your post or put them in a reblog if you do this. Here is PART TWO:

[littleladymab]

Bold the Facts!

HELLO I got tagged in a "Bold the Facts" meme by @mysticstarlightduck (You can read her post over here!) so here is Liam Barker aka Sir Galahad from Knight Lite :)

yeah he's a bit of a Good Boy(TM)

Personal

Financial: Wealthy/ moderate/unsure/ poor/ extreme poverty

Medical: Fit/ not applicable/ moderate/ sickly/ disabled

Class: Upper/ middle/working/ unsure / other

Education: Qualified/ unqualified/ studying/ other (*He's finished an undergrad but is going to law school next year)

Criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes/ no/ has committed crimes, but not caught yet/ yes, but charges were dismissed

Family

Children: has a child or children/ has no children/ wants children eventually/cannot have children (*he wants to be the cool uncle, but does not want children of his own)

Relationship with family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s)/ has no sibling(s)/ sibling(s) is deceased

Affiliation: Orphaned/ abandoned / adopted/ found family/ disowned/ raised by birth parent(s)/ not applicable

Traits+ tendencies

Extroverted/ introverted/ ambivalent

Disorganized/ organized/ in-between

Closed-minded / open-minded/ in between

Calm/ anxious/ in-between/ highly contextual

Disagreeable/ agreeable/ in-between

Cautious/ reckless/ in-between/ highly contextual

Patient/ impatient/ in-between

Outspoken/ reserved/ in-between/ highly contextual

Leader (reluctantly)/ leader (gladly)/ follower/ in between

Empathic/ vicious bastard/ in-between/ highly contextual

Optimistic/ pessimistic/ in-between

Traditional/ modern/ in-between

Hard working/ lazy/ in-between

Cultured/ uncultured/ in-between/ unknown (depends on the culture)

Loyal/ disloyal/ unknown/ highly contextual

Faithful/ unfaithful/ unknown/ highly contextual

Beliefs

Faiths: Monotheistic/ polytheistic/ atheist/ agnostic

Belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no/ don’t know/ don’t care/ in a matter of speaking

Belief in an afterlife: yes/ no/ don’t know/ don’t care/ in a matter of speaking

Belief in reincarnation: yes/ no/ don’t know/don’t care/ in a matter of speaking (*IT'S KINDA HARD NOT TO WHEN YOU ARE A REINCARNATION LMAO)

Belief in aliens: yes/ no/ don’t know/ don’t care

Religious: orthodox/ liberal/ in-between/ not religious (*he grew up thinking he was obligated to be religious when he found out he was Galahad, but stopping that was one of his first steps towards differentiating the two of them)

Philosophical: yes/ no/ highly contextual

Sexuality & romantic inclination

Sexuality: heterosexual/ homosexual/ bisexual / asexual / pansexual (*most likely demi, but also is a huge confused shrug) 

Sex: sex repulsed/ sex neutral/ sex favorable/ naive and clueless (*'naive and clueless' has a connotation i don’t really care for especially in his context, but he’s also never really put thought to it) 

Sexuality: adventurous/ experienced/naive/ inexperienced/ curious

Potential sexual partners: male/ female/both/ agender/ none / all (*"(stressed and confused noises)” is the answer for this, he’s not really thought about it at all before gael or past gael)

Potential romantic partners: male/ female/ both/ agender/ none/ all

Abilities

Combat skills: excellent/ good/ moderate/ poor/ none

Literary skills: excellent/ good/ moderate/ poor/ none

Artistic skills: excellent/ good/ moderate/ poor/ none

Technical skills: excellent/ good/ moderate/ poor/ none

Habits

Drinking alcohol: never/ special occasions/ sometimes/ frequently/ tried it/ alcoholic/ former alcoholic turned sober (*he’s half french……. It’s wine all the time) 

Smoking: tried it/ trying to quit/never/ rarely sometimes/ frequently/ chain smoker

Recreational drugs: tried some/ never/ sometimes/ frequently/ addict

Medicinal drugs: never/ no longer needs medication/ some medication needed/ frequently / to excess (*honestly he probably should be on something…) 

Unhealthy foods: never/ special occasions/ sometimes/ frequently/ binge eater

Splurge spending: never/ sometimes/ frequently/ shopaholic

Gambling: never/ rarely/ sometimes/ frequently/ compulsive gambler

(It's an open tag, but @bottlingsound might have one for Temmy!)

[natorika]

misc hcs.

phoenix is, in general, most open and vulnerable when it comes to the safety of maya and her family--but especially and particularly maya herself (he would put the other feys in the line of fire if he had absolutely no other possible choice, and would openly line his crosshairs on anyone who intentionally antagonized or threatened maya, such as morgan). the only people who matter as much to phoenix would be mia and miles, and mia is dead, and his relationship with miles is very different. in the end, he will choose maya and her happiness and safety over anyone else, up until he bonds with trucy, more or less.

that same level of care and protectee role migrates from maya to trucy, especially once phoenix determines maya is both old enough, tenured enough, and independent enough to survive in the world without his help or any amount of his guidance. he has always had confidence in maya and her ability, but rightly understands she was relatively young when she ended up crossing paths into his life, and may not have felt comfortable or confident in the idea of being pushed out of the proverbial nest that he (and mia, despite her death) could provide. maya is more like phoenix's little sister than his daughter, but at times e did feel the same kind of pressure in ensuring her safety and the path of wellness she took as he does when raising trucy.

adores trucy. is not over protective of her, though, and respects her and her growing boundaries and desires as she gets older. since he knows trucy can handle herself for the most part, his amount of worry is proportional only to what a child (or late teen as she ages) needs; he would only become aggressive or frantic in cases of emergency, in which case, his kid > all else. trucy really helps put a lot of meaning back into phoenix's life and helps keep him stable through what is probably the worst part of it. (above everything but trucy and maya and miles, his career is the most important thing to him. he finds not just enjoyment but life purpose in serving as a defense attorney, and feels genuinely pained and empty when he isn't in practice.)

although phoenix banks off his ability of insight and perception more so than he does his ability to construct coherent arguments or bluff, he is an incredible liar when it really matters and he's applying himself. even without trucy's help and ability to read body language, he definitely would have won more poker games than he lost through reading tells and successfully lying his way to victory. when put on the spot, especially over menial things, phoenix struggles to construct believable lies. he doesn't enjoy lying, which some might consider a betrayal of his occupation.

he does, secretly, enjoy the steel samurai / samurai-related franchise. he allows himself to invest more in it once he realizes miles', and maya's, genuine interest in the series.

he is... uhhh... in a healthy manner, a bit of a simp when it comes to romantic interest/loved ones. not in a weird or obsessive way, but in a strongly affirmed, adoring, excitable way, he does always intensely like whomever he likes or is dating.

drinks grape juice in lieu of drinking wine. it's probably better for him and keeps him out of trouble, and has gotten to a point where phoenix genuinely truly enjoys fruit juices, but especially and specifically grape juice. its kind of just.. a taste he has genuinely and unintentionally acquired. huge fan of those sparkling welches grape juices. likes apple juice just as much, and is known to frequent a hard apple cider here and there.

has tried smoking cigarettes, cigars, and marijuana, all out of curiosity. didn't really enjoy any of it, is most likely to try weed again out of all three. wouldn't regardless though, phoenix likes being sober best (i know, he's a little bit of a freak in that way), and wouldn't want intoxication of any sort to qualify him for disbarment. rarely even drinks alcohol because of this.

due to physical trauma--since im not a huge fan of aa inflicting major wounding events on it's characters and then brushing them off like dolls--phoenix suffers from a mild tbi and has to walk with a cane when his pain is bad enough to limit his mobility. has some hypertrophic scalding scars on his outside jaw from hot coffee being thrown in his face.

[number1villainstan]

Can we have some Nemoto headcannons? I’m very curious. ~🎑

Okay, so you got the general backstory in this post--Nemoto lived with his single mother until he was 10, got kidnapped, and then got shuffled from gang to gang and made a living and his freedom off of cons and blackmail. I've also mentioned that, you know, special interest in psychology. So let's have some different headcanons this time around! (I have a lot

I stole the headcanon that he was the first of the Eight from someone (who draws/drew funny little three-panel comics in black white and sepia who is it I can't remember the username) and the idea that he likes plants and takes care of some within the base from rumiknight here on Tumblr. I think plants might be another special interest of his? (I have no idea if you can have multiple special interests.)

He's got naturally light purple hair, a similar shade to Shinsou Hitoshi's but not the exact same, a couple shades off, but has dyed and bleached it so many times to so many different colors as he switched names and identities. He keeps it a bleached blonde mostly out of habit. He also helped Sakaki grow out and take care of his hair when he first came to the Hassaikai. After canon, if/when he finally gets found by the Shinsous, he might grow out and cut off the damaged hair and let it be its natural color again.

He's paired up with Sakaki because Sakaki's the only one he can stand for any long period of time...at least when Sakaki's sober. They're both asexual, and both like men romantically, so it ended up working out pretty well ehehehehehe

Nemoto actually did a lot of the work in pulling Sakaki out his addiction when he first came, including the aforementioned helping him take care of his hair, as well as holding him accountable and figuring out why relapses happened (and then fixing it). Sakaki relies more on him than he does on Chisaki or Kurono, as a result.

Nemoto's a major introvert and really loves his quiet time. He's in charge of the Eight because of seniority, but they tend to tire him out/overstimulate him really quickly, so he's often cross and snappy with them. (In canon he tends to have a little (actually a lottle) bit of a superiority complex over the others in the Eight but I want to ignore/change that, hence this.) Still, although they're exhausting to be around, if any of them got hurt--especially while under Nemoto's supervision/direct command--Nemoto would be on the warpath right next to Chisaki, and probably end up blaming himself for not protecting them well enough/getting them hurt, even when it's not his fault.

His duties don't stop at wrangling the Eight, though that qualifies as a full-time job. He's often stepped up to help with managing the general operations of Chisaki's side of the Hassaikai alongside Chisaki himself, Kurono, and/or Irinaka in cases where one of the three were indisposed or when there was just too much work for only three people. Usually in these cases, though, someone else steps up to keep the rest in line, although the Eight are usually a lot less rowdy when someone's incapacitated, especially enough to stop working. Chisaki especially has been known to step out of conducting meetings to vomit and then come back and continue like nothing happened, all the while denying that he's sick, and Kurono and Irinaka both have pretty similar work-till-you-drop show-no-weakness complexes because yakuza toxic masculinity. So Nemoto getting called in to help is generally a pretty big deal, and the rest of the Eight know this. (He's also usually the one handling interrogations, for obvious reasons.)

Overusing his Quirk can induce symptoms similar to narcolepsy, such as excessive daytime sleepiness and falling asleep at random intervals. For these reasons he tends to use it sparingly and on 'smaller'/less complicated questions, rather than on deep probing ones. Chisaki is aware of this and doesn't ask much of him Quirkwise; instead Nemoto trains with guns. He's actually a better sharpshooter than Kurono (who is in the position of sharpshooter because if he were allowed to fight melee he'd go full berserker mode). Although not as good as Lady Nagant, obviously. No one's as good as Nagant.

He's asexual, as mentioned above, and while I had him as alloace for a while, I think he might actually fall into grayromantic. Can't decide if I want him to be homo- or biromantic. He's also intersex. It's a hormonal condition, and he didn't find out or even suspect until Chisaki ran a hormone blood test and found that his normal levels were atypical. The hormone thing might tie into the narcolepsy-like symptoms, cause fatigue and stuff like that. Back to the ace headcanon--he's sex-repulsed as well (as opposed to Sakaki's who's indifferent and Hojo's who's aegosexual and likes sex as a Concept), and has definitely struggled with feeling like an Adult because of it.

I feel like he'd really like Tom Lehrer's music. Maybe not so much Masochism Tango (sex-repulsed), but definitely Poisoning Pigeons in the Park, The Hunting Song, and So Long, Mom (A Song for World War III), definitely his satirical songs. (This is also the guy who wrote and performed New Math, if you recognize that.) Nemoto might not recognize the specific cultural elements he uses, because Tom Lehrer's in the US in the 1950s and 60s and Nemoto's living in Japan several centuries after that, but he gets the general gist of it and loves the sort of sarcastic satire those songs employ.

I'm running dry right now, but I hope these work well!

[faezrblazr]

Beginnings

This seemed like the easiest choice to do a blog. I'm going to throw up just all the thoughts worth throwing up, while I still can, see how it goes.

I've been sober enough to hyper-fixate on reading books, for at least a limited time, and that's made my brain think more like a writer should, so may this be a great exercise. My motivation has always been trash, but this unmooring from this alcoholic situation gives me a never before felt draw to certain things, at least for now. My emotions are complicated, and aren't just shades of excitement and relief at the freedom. Guilt is there. Sadness. Mourning what I wanted, and what I hope for. Because through Alanon, you come to accept that you WON'T get what you want.

And going to Alanon meetings, after seven years of extreme isolation with an alcoholic so dysfunctional they were too sick to live alone, has helped me start expressing myself. I'd say again, but in many ways my need to express myself has not only been building up from a long lifetime of feeling out of place, but because of what led up to and contributed to this situation playing out the way it did, amongst other things such as needing to come to terms with my mortality through the pandemic and the predictable response to it that is till putting people at risk. But of course, when profit is a motive, and cruelty a previously hidden yet now brazenly acceptable goal, what else can be expected? You WON'T get what you want.

As it is, SOMETHING must be different. I'm able to attend meetings where it's mostly women, as is to be expected; I stand out even more. Though I respect people who have gone through some shit, and I was raised around mostly women, so that's enough said; I relate quite well to women, older or otherwise.

Either way, a few days ago on my walk, I was mourning, and feeling guilty towards my "qualifier." It was a deeply sad moment. I remembered how the Buddha named his son "fetter" as he looked towards a future of renunciation.

I'm not comparing myself to the Buddha or saying I'm especially enlightened or anything, but in my weaker moments I do obsess over my friends behavior, and I've been neglecting my needs and responsibilities for so long, I don't live in the common reality anymore. I want to stop his suffering, but for me to not go insane and hurt us, I need to let go of this fetter. I am powerless over his drinking and knowing he is suffering sickens me.

Of course, I realized today, the Buddha'd have to have named his son that DESPITE not wanting to leave him behind. And like the bookmark from my Alanon Welcome Packet I scrapbooked into my journal says, I need to endeavor to do two things I don't want to do every day. But in the end, I'm just coming at it from my point of view: feeling that my friends' death would hurt me too much for me to really Detach. Detach With Love is the phrase in Alanon. I shouldn't assume. I don't know enough, but would like to know how the Buddha felt about leaving his family behind.

This image is from europeanbuddhism.org via https://therevealer.org/many-paths-to-freedom-transgender-buddhism-in-the-united-states/

[mellointheory]

A Guide to Writing PPCrew members

This will include the ones that I'm best at writing: Ant, Punz, Velvet, and Gumi.

Ant

Ant is a very supportive person. He tends to take a supportive role in most situations, and is very nonconfrontational. He prefers to agree with people rather than argue with them, and is likely to support what his friends do even if he doesn't fully agree with it at the time. He swears sometimes, but often uses less profane adjectives like "hellish" to describe things he dislikes.

He enjoys chaos and causing problems with his friends, especially with Gumi. He won't flatout argue, but he'll definitely run with a bit if it's funny or it gets on someone's nerves (often Punz). He's very kind sometimes, and will do stuff like bring Gumi flowers for her garden or build an animal sanctuary. However, he does have infinite capacity for malice and vague irritation (e.g: when he runs into a witch in VH).

He absolutely loves his boyfriend more than anything else in the world.

Velvet

Velvet's friends call him Red sometimes, and the cc himself prefers the name Velvet, but it really is a case-by-case basis and you can choose either one. He does indeed make a whole lot of absolutely filthy jokes, but generally when he's not trying to get a rise out of someone or say something shocking he's quiet. He's not the biggest fan of alcohol and in situations with Ant and Gumi he is the designated sober friend who has to take care of them.

He's very smart, he's very observant, and he's sometimes very anxious or fatalistic. He also likes to threaten unbelievable violence ("i'll gut you like a pig" "don't play games with me, i'll fucking tear you open") and sometimes does bits where he goes on over-exaggerated acting spiels to emphasize a joke. If you're writing Velvet in a situation where's he's capable of doing violence, go for it. If it's justified, I think he'd do it and have fun with it.

He absolutely loves his boyfriend more than anything else in the world, and he's an INTP if that helps at all.

Gumi

Gumi!! She doesn't take a leadership role as much as she does a heart role. She is in no way the "mom of the team: or anything, but she's the one who organizes things and brings them all together. She loves her best friends so much, but she'll definitely call them bastards, whores, and sluts as casual methods of address. She is a badass who wears black and leather and chains and cool coats. She's also very hot. That doesn't prevent her from liking cute things or anything, and don't be afraid to include that side of her.

She and Ant are rat gremlin besties and do things like skulking in the sewers to ambush people with guns, or running away from birthday parties together wearing turtle helmets and riding llamas. She loves him and all her friends. She also gets absolutely wasted when she drinks and when she does she will be very vocal about how much she cares about them. She calls Punz "Punztholemew" and Ant "Anthony".

Punz

Punz is arguably the least chaotic and calmest of these four. He's very much a sweetheart but he'll dig his heels in the ground about specific things (like getting his favorite color, or doing things a specific way). When they need to actually get stuff done he'll often take a leadership role, but also is likely to get too bloodthirsty and try to take on too much on his own. This often backfires without Ant and/or Gumi to act as support.

They bully him for fun and sometimes he'll try to argue back, but often he'll just be quiet and let them. He likes to make sure his stuff is matching and he likes to look pretty while he kills shit. He doesn't often reciprocate the joking flirting that often gets thrown at him, but when Foolish is involved he'll absolutely start it. If things get too loud or chaotic he's definitely going to be the one to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up.

I'm leaving it at these four because I haven't done enough extensive observation or writing of the other members to feel qualified to write a full analysis. However, if you're looking to include any of them in a fic, go for it!

[shrinkthisviolet]

Sam stans stay in denial that she's a disgusting mary sue that gets away with never suffering consequences for treating others bad and being a selfish bitch that everybody forgives anyway!!

...anon, why would you tell me, a primarily Sam blog, this.

Ohh wait I get it, you're trying to change my mind, right? Or insult me? Wow. You know, for someone who seems to believe what they're saying so much, you sure seem comfortable behind your anon mask :) but I'll answer you to the best of my ability anyway.

First of all, Mary Sue as a term is outdated and misused! Here's an article that talks about it. And a forum thread. Even the creator of the Mary Sue Litmus Test has expressed that they're not proud of it anymore (read the very top of the page)! So frankly, the term is way too subjective to count for much.

(For anyone who's wondering, Mary Sue in its original conception referred to an intentionally-satirical fanfic. So Ebony Darkness Way would be a Mary Sue by that definition, but Sam? Absolutely not, especially since she does have flaws. Plus, since everyone has different lines for what qualifies as "Mary Sue," the term is no longer an objective standard of measurement. So if you call a character a Mary Sue to me? Sorry, you're shooting your credibility in the foot)

Sam isn't selfish actually! I know it might seem that way for someone who watches the show on mute with your eyes closed, but really, if you actually watch the show properly, you'd see that she in fact tries to help everyone! And make everyone happy! That's one of her flaws: she's a people-pleaser to such a degree that a lot of her arcs revolve around her self-image and who she is! No clue how you managed to call her selfish when her character arcs are the exact opposite. (Notice how I mentioned she has flaws? That repeatedly get in her own way during the course of her arcs? Yeah. All definitions of Mary Sue describe her as "flawless," so even if the term had any merit, you'd be wrong, anon)

Now, does she do some selfish things? Sure, she's a teenage girl. And I don't excuse her for everything. She still holds some blame for 2x9, just not as much as Miguel since she's blackout drunk (but she still bears some blame for it). You'll never hear me call her innocent for that. However, she's not the only one who does selfish things.

Tory (and mind you, I say this as someone who likes her) also does some selfish things - and in fact, she's hurt Sam pretty badly and hasn't expressed remorse to Sam for it! She doesn't have to say "I'm sorry" outright, that doesn't really seem like her, but there's no expression of remorse whatsoever. And if you're referring to Sam's s4 arc...then you ought to take her PTSD into account. Sam wasn't right to harass Tory at work, but everything else? I defy you to be any less hostile towards someone who a) hospitalized you and b) broke into your house to hurt you again :) But I still like Tory because...guess what? She's a teenager with flaws, and she makes mistakes!

Miguel also did some selfish things - for the 2x9 kiss, he was sober, yet he never seemed sorry for it (he never really apologized to Tory for kissing Sam iirc, or if he did, it didn't really seem sincere. His talk with Tory was him guilting Tory even though Miguel was the one in the wrong during that relationship). But I still like him because...guess what? He's a teenager with flaws, and he makes mistakes!

And Robby...what he did to Hawk was certainly a mistake. And to Miguel. But I still like him because...guess what? He's a teenager with flaws, and he makes mistakes!

(And I should point out, anon, that Sam's mistakes aren't as scarring as Miguel's, Robby's, and Tory's. Funny how that works, huh?)

Long story short: this was amusing, really, but in the future, I'd advise not going into the inbox of someone who likes a character and calling them delusional :) I promise, you won't change their mind! I dislike plenty of characters in the media I consume, but part of Tumblr etiquette (or just netiquette in general) is having a heart and/or learning to just take a breath and keep scrolling.

Or, at least, have the decency to get off anon so we can block you for being rude :) have the day you deserve!

[lady-wallace]

Midnight Memories: Comfortember Day 10 (JJBA)

A day late, but this is for @comfortember Day 10 “Breakdown”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 5

Bucciarati is away for a few days and Fugo's nightmares come to haunt him. Luckily, Abbacchio might be more qualified to help than even he realizes.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

The apartment was quiet with Bucciarati gone.

Not that the other man was loud or anything, but when he was there they were usually discussing some kind of business or just talking amongst each other about things. Fugo hadn't gotten to the point where he had opened up to talking to just Abbacchio, and to be frank, the older man wasn't sure the kid liked him all that much—not that he really blamed him. After all, he'd been a pitiful drunk when Bucciarati had first dragged him in here, and had had more than one fit of rage during his process of getting clean. Dinner that night had been no more than a few pleasantries between them, with Fugo reading a book. Abbacchio certainly didn't hold it against him. It was the nighttime where it got hard for him to be left with his own thoughts.

Abbacchio had admittedly gotten used to having other people around. In fact, it had really helped him get through the worst of his now (mostly) sober state. The fact that Bucciarati had trusted him not to sneak a drink while he was gone was maybe a little too telling of how much faith the man seemed to put in Abbacchio. The nights were long and rough for him still and he had yet to find something to replace the numbness of alcohol to help him sleep. He was working on chamomile tea, but it didn't exactly have the same effect and didn't keep the nightmares away.

So, yeah, that was why he was currently up at 2am, watching crappy television on the tiny TV, one leg bobbing up and down repetitively. Maybe another cup of tea would help knock him out.

He sighed heavily as he pushed himself up to head toward the kitchen.

He was halfway through filling the kettle when he heard a heavy thump coming from further in the apartment. He glanced toward the bedrooms with a frown, wondering what the hell Fugo might be doing this time of night. Had he fallen out of bed?

Abbacchio was going to ignore it until he heard another thump and a crash and his danger instincts ramped up, causing his Stand to ripple under his skin.

He grabbed the first thing he could find—a kitchen knife—and hurried toward Fugo's room, hoping something wasn't really wrong.

He could hear muffled sounds from the other side of the door as he grabbed the knob and twisted it, stepping cautiously inside.

"Fugo?" he called softly when he didn't initially see anyone.

There was the sound of shuffling and Abbacchio looked around, seeing a shadowy lump in the corner.

"Fugo?"

"Get away! You touch me again, I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Abbacchio quickly stowed the knife, not wanting to scare the kid more if there wasn't actually an enemy in here. It looked like he was just having another nightmare. Abbacchio knew he had them frequently and when Bucciarati had given him a brief rundown of what had happened to Fugo before he came here, then he could understand why. Still, it was usually Bucciarati who helped Fugo through them. Abbacchio didn't exactly feel qualified for that, especially since he still had nightmares himself.

But still, he couldn't exactly leave the kid here like this. Fugo looked terrified, pressing himself further into the corner, hands balled into fists in his pajama shirt.

Abbacchio bit his lip, then took a careful step inside, reaching to turn on a lamp, hoping that a little light might work to break through Fugo's hallucinations.

The only thing it seemed to do was illuminate his wide eyes and clenched teeth. Abbacchio could also see a puddle of water and broken glass on the floor—likely the crash he had heard, Fugo's water glass falling off the bedside table.

"Leave me alone," Fugo whimpered, then fiercer, "Leave me alone!"

Abbacchio held his hands up, staying on the other side of the room. "Fugo, it's just me. Um, Abbacchio," he said, sure that this was no comfort to the kid. Bucciarati seemed to be able to snap him out of these spells pretty quickly, but then, Bucciarati had the kind of firm, commanding tone that was easy to listen to and follow. Abbacchio wasn't that assertive anymore, especially when it came to helping other people.

What the hell do I do then? He wondered, just staring at the kid who was looking more and more panicked by the minute, digging fingers into his chest and shoulders, threatening to rip through the fabric of his pajama top. Abbacchio winced as he saw smears of blood left on the fabric. It looked like Fugo had cut his hands on some of the glass.

He was also breathing quickly—too quickly, Abbacchio realized suddenly. Fugo seemed to be approaching a full-on panic attack and was threatening to hyperventilate.

"Shit," Abbacchio hissed. He had to do something about this.

He cautiously took a step forward and crouched, getting closer to Fugo, but making sure he was still far enough away to keep him comfortable.

At the moment, though, it seemed the boy wasn't even looking at him anymore, just staring off at the wall, terrified, as if something else was there.

"I said stay back," he panted, the panic rising in his face. "Don't touch me!"

"I'm not gonna touch you, I'm just gonna sit right here," Abbacchio said quickly, just in case Fugo was actually referring to him. He cleared the area of glass with his foot and settled cross-legged on the floor about three feet away from Fugo. "Listen, Fugo, you need to breathe. Hear me?"

Abbacchio wasn't a stranger to these kind of panicking night terrors. Only difference was he'd had to teach himself to breathe through them. Waking up screaming as he was forced to watch his partner die again and again, tearing out his hair, chest so tight he couldn't breathe, unable to see anything in front of him but blood. It took a lot to consciously pull himself out of that pit, but he'd taught himself to start counting when the panic hit and to breathe for each count of ten. And it helped.

Fugo didn't seem to be listening to him, though, and his breaths just came quicker and quicker until Abbacchio feared he might just pass out.

"Fugo, hey…" he tried again then, "Pannacotta."

That actually got the boy to turn toward him. Abbacchio had heard Bucciarati use Fugo's given name on occasions when he was going through shit, and it seemed to ground him more easily. Good. That seemed to dictate that Abbacchio was at least not a threat.

"Pannacotta," he said again. "I need you to breathe, okay? You're having a nightmare and you just need to breathe through it. Can you do that?"

Fugo stared at the floor between them, still panting, twitching slightly.

"I need you to breathe in while I count to ten, okay?" Abbacchio tried.

Fugo's breath hitched and he finally turned to meet Abbacchio's eyes, fingers loosening in his clothes slightly as recognition set in. Abbacchio nodded, trying to encourage him and placed a hand on his own chest. "Breathe in while I count to ten," he said again. "One…two…"

Fugo, amazingly, seemed to have heard him and took a shuddering inhalation, chest spasming as he tried to breathe deeply. It didn't exactly work but he was at least paying attention.

"Let's try again," Abbacchio said quietly. "Breathe in…one…two…three…"

This time Fugo was able to get a deeper inhale and though the exhale was jerky, he started the next deep breath before Abbacchio started counting.

Abbacchio continued counting long after Fugo's breathing evened out and he simply slumped in the corner, staring down at his hands as he continued to breathe.

When he finally looked up, the gaze was slightly wary but aware of his surroundings again.

"Hey," Abbacchio called, forcing a brief smile. "You with me?"

Fugo shifted slightly and looked down at his hands again with a wince. "Yeah," he said, voice small.

Abbacchio felt relief at that, and nodded to his hands. "Can I help you get those cleaned up?"

Fugo returned his gaze to Abbacchio. "Okay," he said with some hesitation.

Abbacchio nodded and slowly climbed to his feet, still feeling like he could startle Fugo any minute. "Alright, let's go to the kitchen where there's more light. Careful getting up, there's glass everywhere."

Fugo nodded and got to his feet a little awkwardly, tiptoeing through the glass to get to the door, holding his hands curled against his chest.

Abbacchio stopped by the bathroom for their small first aid kit and followed to the kitchen where Fugo was sitting slumped at the table.

He didn't meet Abbacchio's eyes as the older man set the kit down and washed his hands well before he took a seat himself.

"Do you mind?" he asked, pointing to Fugo's hands.

The teen hesitantly opened his hands and held them out. Abbacchio bent over them, seeing that there were a couple bits of glass stuck in his palms.

"I'll have to get the glass out first," he said, rummaging for a pair of tweezers before he held out one hand. He knew Fugo didn't like to be touched, so he would give him the first move.

Fugo stared at Abbacchio's hand for a long second before he offered his own to rest in Abbacchio's larger palm. Abbacchio pinned his fingers as carefully as he could with his thumb and maneuvered his hand so that he could better get to the glass.

Fugo winced. "I'm sorry for that," he said, then clenched his jaw. "I hate…I hate it when I get like that."

Abbacchio grabbed one piece of glass and let it fall onto the table. "You don't have to apologize, you can't exactly help it."

"Yeah, well, you probably didn't want to be part of my issues, so…"

Abbacchio looked up at him. "That's not true. I know I'm not Bucciarati, but we're all a team here. And you're just a kid. Your wellbeing is my priority."

Fugo looked away, cringing again as Abbacchio fished the last piece of glass out. "How did you know what to do, anyway?"

Abbacchio motioned for his other hand and repeated the process. "How? Because I get it. I've had nightmares that screwed me up so bad I couldn't breathe, didn't know where I was. I had to learn how to breathe through the panic myself. It's the least I can do to pass it on."

Fugo watched him as he worked, silent. "I guess I may have misjudged you, Abbacchio."

Abbacchio snorted. "You're not going to offend me by saying that, kid. I know what I looked like when I first got here." He sighed as he turned back to the medical supplies and grabbed some gauze and peroxide. "You don't have to like me or anything. But for the record, I am sorry for all the shit you've been through."

Fugo looked away, swallowing hard. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry for all the shit you've been through too. But…thanks, Abbacchio. For stepping in tonight."

Abbacchio looked up at him and briefly caught Fugo's eyes, seeing how genuine they looked. He'd never seen that expression directed at him before from the kid. "No problem," he muttered.

Once he finished cleaning Fugo's hands and wrapping gauze around them, Abbacchio stood to look for the broom. "I'll go clean the glass up. You might want to put a new shirt on."

Fugo looked down to see the smears of blood and nodded. "Thanks."

Abbacchio shrugged and went to clean up the glass, hoping he got all the pieces before he came back to the kitchen to return to putting the kettle on.

"I do find that a cup of tea can really help calm the nerves," he told Fugo as the boy stood to one side rather awkwardly. "You want some?"

Fugo stared at him with some surprise and nodded.

Abbacchio took out two tea bags and mugs and made the tea before urging Fugo into the living room.

"Sorry to wake you," Fugo said.

Abbacchio shook his head. "Wasn't asleep. I don't sleep a lot, honestly."

Fugo took a deep breath, holding his tea carefully in his bandaged hands. "I don't either."

Abbacchio looked over at him. "You know…if I'm ever up and you're awake, I don't mind talking or, just sitting here or whatever. Especially if Bucciarati's not here. It's a lot easier to keep the bad thoughts away when there's someone else there."

Fugo looked up at him with some surprise. "I…thanks, Abbacchio," was all he said.

Abbacchio smiled very briefly and turned on the TV again.

He actually started to feel a little drowsy after a few minutes and it looked like Fugo was close behind, holding the empty mug in his hand loosely.

Abbacchio reached over to retrieve it and grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, throwing it over the kid before he settled back and closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~

Bucciarati got back to the apartment in the early morning hours, closing the door quietly behind him as he got inside and slipped his shoes off. He was exhausted, but glad to be back. He had honestly been a little worried about leaving Fugo and Abbacchio alone. They weren't exactly hostile to each other, but he knew Fugo didn't hold any regard for their newest recruit either.

However, as he crossed through the living room on his way to his bed, he was surprised to see the pair on the couch, lit by the glow from the television. Abbacchio was passed out, head tipped back in a way that would probably give him a crick in his neck come morning, but he so rarely slept well, Bruno didn't have the heart to wake him.

More surprising though was Fugo resting against his shoulder, just as deeply asleep, blanket laid over him.

Bruno's heart lightened at the sight and he quietly crossed the room to readjust the blanket so it lay over both the sleeping figures. He frowned slightly when he saw Fugo's hands were bandaged, but he would worry about that in the morning. He'd been worried the boy would have a nightmare while he was gone, but it looked like if he had, Abbacchio had been there to take care of it and maybe they had finally broken through whatever barrier had been keeping them distant.

Bruno tucked his team members in with a final smile before heading off to bed himself. For the first time, he was truly certain that this team would work out.

~~~~~~~~

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[pynkhues]

So now that we know Kendall and Rava got married quite young (based on Roman's comment in 3x04 that Kendall's bachelor party was 15 years ago, meaning he was 24 or 25 when he got married) do you have any thoughts on how that might have affected Kendall and Stewy's relationship?

Yeah! It was great to get confirmation of that! I already figured they'd gotten married fairly young given Sophie and Iverson are both tweens as opposed to little kids. I think we're supposed to understand they've been separated for a while at the start of s1 too? I'd be curious as to what the timeline is for that specifically, because they imply I think that Rava left Kendall before he got sober, and he and Logan talk specifically about rehab as three years before the start of s1.

Three years isn't that long to be separated pre-divorce though either, especially if somone's like Kendall and doesn't really want to break up. My parents were separated for seven years before they got divorced, and a good friend of mine has been separated for eighteen months already without any plans to actually file yet.

It could be one of the things that was changed though post-pilot too? Shiv's letter in 3.03 certainly made it seem like Kendall's been in rehab a number of times instead of just the one big stint that seemed infered in Logan's dialogue in 1.01, and we got confirmation from both Roman and Connor that the letter was accurate after all.

That's all an aside though, haha.

Your question! Yeah! We know Kendall and Stewy went to both Buckley and Harvard together, and I imagine they both have their MBA's too, so I feel like they had to have been pretty entwined still when Rava entered the picture. I actually headcanon that Stewy introduced them, haha, especially given he's the one deployed by someone to ask Kendall if he and Rava are really separated in 1.03.

I tend to headcanon it as one of those complicated things where Stewy and Kendall had never really qualified what their hooking up meant or what their relationship was, and that it was probably always an unspoken thing that Kendall would be finding a woman his dad approved of and marrying her and that that would be that. It's the sort of thing I don't think Stewy probably cared that much about while they were both sleeping with other people and Kendall was getting way too intense about girls who were never going to pass the Logan Roy test, but I think things were different with Rava too.

I think Kendall really fell in love with her, and her him, and I think it probably stung Stewy, despite himself. Like - - he just figured they had more time than this, right? Who's dreaming of settling down with the chick you meet when you're 21? 22? But Rava's smart and beautiful and maybe Stewy wouldn't care if it didn't start to become apparent that Kendall was - - y'know, telling her stuff. Stuff he's never told anyone except Stewy, and maybe Stewy tried to create some distance, but Kendall latched on in that way he does whenever he feels someone trying to pull away, so maybe Stewy fucked him instead, and okay, that was fine, it was, until Kendall took Rava back to meet Logan, and the stamp of approval was clear even if Rava came back pissed off, and it was only after that that Kendall told him they couldn't anymore. Not now that Rava was the One.

And they're just so young still, and it doesn't matter, because Stewy's not exactly short on options, and it's better Kendall ends up with someone Stewy likes rather than some of the other girls Stewy's been forced to endure the company of, and things are good. They are, at least for a minute, but Kendall doesn't know how to be happy, and Stewy knows when he's self-sabotaging, but he's half-hearted in pushing him back to Rava because there's something to it. Something to the way being Kendall's person again feeds a part of him he didn't realise was still hungry, and besides, they're still young, right?

They're supposed to be having fun.

Stewy always knows how to help Kendall have fun.

(Right up until he doesn't).

[qqueenofhades]

Fluffy/fun fanfic prompts: accidentally drunk (think Anne of Green Gables, Diana guzzling raspberry cordial), any pairing in Shadow and Bone; someone wears shoes that are too small to a party (channeling Meg March in Little Women); meet-cute at a vet's office where one character has a chinchilla and the other has an angora rabbit; an impromptu proposal while taking shelter from a sudden heavy rain

Alina has been on her feet for almost twelve hours straight, the Great State Crown has made her neck ache like the devil, and she's been whirled around  the ballroom by a constant succession of dignitaries and diplomats, but the reason her head is still spinning is not entirely due to that. She has drunk about a hundred celebratory toasts of kvas, brandy, wine, and cordial, and the world is a merry, bright-colored muddle. At least she has finally removed the dress, heavy ivory silk weighed down with gilt and gems, and is wearing only her nightgown, sitting on the tall curtained bed and waiting for him to join her. Only, well. It appears that even the Black General can get drunk.

"You know," she says, a little pointedly. "The wardrobe's over there."

"I see that." He is clearly put out that she would attempt to direct him, especially when she's none too sober herself. "I'm going."

Alina giggles, wriggling her toes beneath the counterpane, fighting off the shiver of the late-winter night that lurks just beyond the tall curtained windows. The sounds of revelry float up distantly from the rest of the Grand Palace, and the celebrations will be continuing across Os Alta and all of Ravka. As to whether she's fit to be their queen -- Alina doesn't know that, any more than she thought she was ever qualified to be their saint. But if this ends the war, if it makes things right again, if they can be the summoners of Sun and Shadow, keeping each other in balance... maybe. Maybe. It all seems so much to hope for sometimes, but if nothing else, she will try.

At that moment, Aleksander reaches the wardrobe and, unable to slow his forward progress in time, bumps into it, causing Alina to snort. Sensing that he might need assistance, she gets out of bed, pauses while the room does a somersault, and steadies herself on the wall. "Here," she says, making her way over carefully. "Aleks - Aleksh -- Ale-ks-ander." She has to stumble her way through the suddenly excessive amount of syllables in his name. "Let me help."

He looks insulted that she thinks he can't manage to disrobe by himself, though when both of them struggle for several minutes to undo the tiny jet buttons of his formal kefta and get absolutely nowhere, he gives up and laughs out loud. "Look at us," he says, his voice slurred and loose, but almost, finally, truly happy. "The new rulers of Ravka. This country is fucked, I'd say."

"We will have practice." Alina's hands cover his briefly, on his chest, and he holds on without answering. "And Nikolai will help."

Aleksander snorts, as if to say he still doesn't think much of the Lantsov prince, but they're stuck with him in whatever weird triumvirate of power this is, and the learning curve for everyone will be steep. He teeters sideways and sits down on the floor rather abruptly, pulling Alina down with him, and rests his chin on her hair. "Please do not hold this absolute disaster of a wedding night against me," he says at last. "I do intend to try. Moya tsaritsa."

A shiver runs down Alina's back. For a long moment, and not just because of her alcohol-fuddled senses, she doesn't know how to answer. Then she tilts her head up, and their mouths meet in the dimness, a heady sweet-strong buzz, their hands clutching. "I know," she whispers back, a pledge, a promise. "Moy tsar."

[princess-of-riviaa]

Claiming

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Erin Quincy (1st person POV)

Summary: You experience your first heat as a brand new shifter. Walter, being the good alpha he is, helps out his struggling omega.

Warning(s): depictions of animal attack, age gap (Erin is 25, Walter is 38), alcohol use, a bit of angsty Walter, dirty talk, possessiveness

Author’s note: This is my first piece of work I made for the ABO Universe. I hope you guys like it!

Word count: 3,931

Two weeks ago, I’d been on a camping trip with my two step-brothers, Scott and Chris, when my life had forever changed. One second, the hiking trail had been clear and safe; the next, some kind of animal was jumping out of the brush and fighting my breakfast sausage out of my hands. I later learned that the animal had been a wolf, but that realization only came when I had my first Shift three days later.

Though the night had escaped my memories, when I woke up in an unfamiliar mansion to an unfamiliar group of faces the next day, they filled me in on the details. The man in front—tall, with deep brown curls that were almost as distracting as his thick, muscular shape—had told me that I had Shifted the night before and ended up on their doorstep. And yes, Shifters—not werewolves, as most fantasy books called them—were real, Walter informed me during my surprised silence.

Walter Marshall—that was the stunning stranger’s name. He was an Alpha of one of the two packs that lived in this mansion, and I was more than welcome to join them. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around what had become of myself—and I knew better than to hope that my family would understand—so I accepted the generous offer.

I had been with the pack for three weeks now. Winnie Marshall, Walter’s twin sister, was the Alpha for the mansion’s other pack. Walter had found me first—he had actually been the one to stop me from giving into my animalistic instincts on the night he found me, and had been the one to bring me in from the pouring rain—and technically had claim to me. But, because I hadn’t officially been claimed by him, Winnie argued that she had as much right to me as her brother did. So she took me under her wing. She’d explained everything to me, been there in my moments of panic and embarrassment to assure me that everyone goes through this, and it’s not going to last forever.

The only other two people in the house that were my age were two betas. One of them, a young man named Mike (though everyone called him Mikey), was the center of attention at the mansion, though he surprisingly had his eyes set on the quiet girl who loved books. Her name—I met her last, simply because she’d locked herself in the library for a week-long reading challenge—was Amber Connelly. As the only other beta under the age of thirty, she had an… interesting relationship with Mikey. And by that I mean they were both head over heels for each other, though they only ever bickered, and neither of them seemed aware of the others’ feelings. But they never acted on their feelings, and no one ever expected them to, simply because Mikey was Walter’s Beta, and Amber was Winnie’s, and packs didn’t mix, especially if their was a chance of a Claiming.

Claiming—that was the part of all of this that had intrigued me the most. It started with a bite. One person had to bite their partner directly over the heart, hard enough to leave a scar that would be there forever. In another sense, one wolf had to mark their partner as their territory. It was possessive in every sense of the word, and I couldn’t deny that deep down inside of me, I wanted to share that intimate, lifelong promise with Walter.

It was insane for a number of reasons. Not only had I met the Alpha just a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t even officially in his pack, and a Claiming with an Alpha would make me second-in-command. There were a few steps I would be skipping if that happened. Not to mention that Walter Marshall was the only unclaimed Alpha over the age of thirty-five in the entire city, and there was a reason for that. I didn’t know the details, but I knew it had something to do with his past. Our age was another factor. He was almost 40, while I had just turned 25.

And yet, here I was, wanting his mark anyways. He was quiet and reserved enough to make him mysterious, and that only pulled me in more. In the first week I was there, I found any way I could to talk to him, mainly to thank him for giving me a safe place for this new season of life. But he had disappeared with Andy and Charles Barber—two Beta brothers—for an entire week. Winnie had only said that they were taking care of business on the other side of the city, but when the three men came back, there was a darkness to all of them that told me whatever they had been doing… It hadn’t been fun.

Walter was harder to reach in the days that followed. When I would knock on his office door and ask him if he was able to train me today—something both he and Winnie insisted on their packs doing in their daily routine—he would snap and order me to leave, the sound of his growl following me out the door. He apologized for his behavior three days later, and bought takeout from my favorite restaurant to make it up to me, but I still couldn’t forget that side of him. The side of him that turned his soft blue eyes completely black. The part of him that was all animal, only selfishness and cold edges.

And yet, even after all of that, I still wanted him. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d woken up panting in the middle of the night, rising out of a dream of those blue eyes looking down at me as he fucked my throat, making me gag and cry around his cock. The sound of my own moans had forced me awake before dawn this morning. The memory of Walter’s intense gaze holding my reflection’s as he fucked me in the bathroom had followed me all day.

I was still wound up as I made my way to the game room. The smell of alcohol was strong throughout the house. The packs were celebrating Walter and Winnie’s thirty-eighth birthday tonight, and everyone, it seemed, was intent on getting blackout drunk. There were three kegs in the living room. It took Shifters a lot longer to get drunk, so I wasn’t surprised to find that the kegs were already halfway empty by the time I filled a cup for myself.

But I was surprised to find Walter perched on the roof when I made my way up to my regular hiding spot. He didn’t look over at me when I climbed onto the roof, but he didn’t seem startled when I took a seat beside him, and I knew his Shifter senses had probably heard me before I’d even climbed up the stairs that led up here.

“I see you stole my hiding spot,” I remarked as I took a sip of my beer.

“This way my hiding spot first, actually.” There’s amusement in his eyes as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye, but the amusement is only a cover. I note the darker emotion hiding beneath, and I recognize it instantly. It’s the same thing I’ve been feeling since my first Shift.

Loneliness.

“So technically you stole it from me,” Walter continued, giving me a ghost of a smile.

Though the air was light between us for once, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Why are you hiding on your birthday?”

He sighed and looked out at the valley below us. The city lights reflected in his eyes, making the blue in them sparkle. He chugged back the rest of his beer before answering, “I’m thirty-eight tonight.”

“So I’ve heard.” The light tone was clearly forced, but I continued anyways. “Congratulations.”

His long fingers parted thick curls before he clutched the roots of his hair and squeezed, looking frustrated and… defeated. “I’m thirty-eight—and I still don’t have a goddamn mate.”

Oh.

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me was more than ready to say, Take me. Claim me. I’ll be your mate. But I knew that was overstepping. I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“Walter—” I began.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this. I think I’ve had a few too many drinks.”

We both knew that was a lie. He was too collected to be drunk. Everything—save for his brutal honesty—screamed completely sober.

“I just…” He went on, then stopped himself.

I put a hand on his arm and had to physically force myself not to lean into the warmth of his body heat. When his blue eyes met mine, I nearly lost control. God, I wanted him. I wanted to ran my hands through his hair; wanted to know the way his moans sounded as he filled me up; wanted to feel his mouth on me—

I shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind. “It’s okay,” I told him. “You can tell me.”

He hesitated.

“You’ve been there for me since I got here,” I pointed out. “It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

His eyes scanned my face, and I got the feeling that he could see into my soul. It unnerved me as much as it made me want to bear myself to him. He finally said, “You don’t owe me anything, Erin. I was being a good Alpha.”

“You let a stranger into your home,” I argued. “That qualifies as more than simply being a good Alpha. There’s other packs in the city, yet you were the only one who opened your door to me. And you’ve let me stay here when you could have just as easily sent me away. You’re not just a good Alpha, Walter, you’re…” I almost said, you’re everything, but I caught myself.

But the way he looked at me… I had a feeling that he heard what I didn’t say.

“And maybe you think I don’t owe you,” I went on, “but I want to be there for you. I want to give you whatever you need.”

His eyes left my face to stare at the hand I placed on his arm. He reached for it, and at first I thought he was going to push me away, but he simply held my hand between his own. He opened my fingers and stared at my palm as if he was going to tell me my future. A thick, calloused finger traced across the lines on my palm. The touch was simple and gentle, but it made me shiver nonetheless.

“I’m the only Alpha in the city without a mate,” he finally admitted. “That fact has never bothered me before. I always liked being on my old. I thought I was better that way. It was enough always having to keep an eye on Winnie; I never had a want for someone else to look out for.”

“But now…?” I guessed there was a “but” in that sentence.

His focus was locked on his fingers as he traced the outline of my hand. Something about the way his rough skin felt against mine… It made heat stir in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t realize I had started to lean into him until there was just a few inches of space left between us.

“But now,” he finally said, and sighed. “Now I find myself wanting something I don’t know if I can have.”

“A mate?” Why couldn’t he have that?

“You.” He finally met my gaze, just as the words clicked in my mind.

Heat made my cheeks burn bright red as I repeated his words. “M-me? What do you mean?”

“I mean I want you.” His gaze was unapologetic, yet the twist of his mouth… I could tell he was fighting some internal battle. “When I first saw you in that back alley, hiding under that shed from the rain…”

I was silent as he spoke, simply because I’d never heard all the details of what had happened that night, and Walter was the only one with that memory.

“I had Shifted too,” he admitted. “The pack Shifts together on full moons. The Omegas and some of the Betas are less overwhelmed by it if we’re all together. But something had drawn me away from the pack, like some string had pulled me out onto the streets…”

Only once he said something did I realize that I did remember a part of that night. It wasn’t a memory of what had happened, but rather… a feeling I had gotten. Like someone had been calling my name and I had gone in search of them.

“I’d never experienced anything like that before,” Walter continued. “And when I found you, shaking from fear and the cold… I knew I had to do something. The urge to protect you was overbearing. So I brought you home. I told myself it just from the intensity of the Shift that I felt like that, but when you Shifted back the next morning… I knew I couldn’t just let you walk away. So I told you to stay, and I knew that if you had said no, I would have done anything to change your mind.”

“Walter…” My voice was a quiet whisper as my thoughts began to race. “Do you think… That feeling… I felt it too. Is that what…”

“What having a mate feels like?” he guessed.

All I could do was nod. Somehow I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear him say it.

“Maybe.” When his gaze met mine, I realized he looked as lost as I felt. “I couldn’t say one way or another; I’ve never had a mate. But if it is…” He finally dropped my hand, only to cup my face and pull me towards him. “Listen to me, Erin. Even if…” He paused, as if he was struggling to say it out loud, too. “Even if we’re mates, that doesn’t mean you have to choose me. You can walk away. Hell, you can even…” He practically flinched at these words, as if saying them was a physical blow—“You can even choose someone else. Another man. I’m not going to force you into anything.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I think I want another drink.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in a blink. He rose to his feet, insisting that he get it for me. I watched him walk away. He took four steps—and froze. His entire back went rigid, too stiff for a human. His Shifter instincts had picked up on something.

I froze, wondering what was happening, what he had picked up on.

But he merely turned to face me again. Slowly. “Erin.”

I tried to sense his source of distress, but I couldn’t pick up on anything. The only thing I picked up on was how that look in his eyes sent heat straight to my core. “What is it, Walter?” I was on my feet and closing the distance between us in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t move!” he practically yelled.

I paused, almost jumping at his volume.

His eyes were wild, frantic, looking like an animal caught in a trap.

“What’s wrong?” I asked again, resisting the urge to reach out to him.

“Do you know what’s happening to you?” Every muscle in his body was taut as he asked the question.

I frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He simply said, “You’re going through heat.”

Oh.

Winnie had explained that to me on one of my first days here. She’d said it happens to every female Shifter. Her hormones—particularly the horny ones—exploded, and every male Shifter around her could sense it. Apparently, it drove the males as crazy as the females, though it was dangerous to be an Omega—specifically an unclaimedOmega—around any Alphas while in heat.

That’s why Walter wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing: he was trying not to pounce on me and take what he wanted. What we both needed.

All those dreams about him… They finally made sense. I was preparing for my first heat.

Only once he brought it to my attention did I realize just how hot I was. My heart was hammering in my chest, flames boiling beneath my skin, and—god, when had I gotten so wet?

“Walter…” My voice was a high-pitched whine.

“You’ll be okay.” He didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. The look in his eyes matched the relentless ferocity rising in my core.

God, I needed him. “Please…”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Erin. We’re both unclaimed. I won’t be able to control myself—”

I took a step towards him—and practically cried out. The burning in my core—between my legs—it was unbearable. I needed to ease the ache inside of me. My hand moved of its own accord towards my legs, and before I knew it I was touching myself over my jeans.

Walter’s eyes were locked on my hand. “Erin… you’re killing me.”

“Please, Walter,” I begged, my body no longer under my control. “I need you. I can’t breathe—”

That was when he kissed me. He wasn’t the first person I had kissed, but he felt like the first person who mattered. Our mouths molded together and I moved against him in a way that said, I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.

“God, I can smell you,” he breathed into my neck, his low voice nothing more than a moan. “You’re already wet for me, baby.”

All I could do was moan as he pressed me against his erection. His mouth trailed down my neck, over my clavicle, and stopped over my heart.

“I want you,” I cried out as I ran my hands through his hair. “Mark me, Walter. Please.”

He brought his mouth to my chest, but he didn’t bite me like I expected him to. Instead, he brushed a soft kiss against my skin. I whined as he pulled away and moved me from his lap.

“Did I do something wrong?” I panicked, feeling like an idiot—

“No,” he assured me. “You’re… god, you’re perfect. But I’m not about to fuck you on the roof. I doubt you’ll want the entire neighborhood to hear you moaning for me.”

My face flushed instantly, but I didn’t say anything as he rose to his feet and pulled me inside, not stopping until we were in his room. An Alpha’s room was a place very few people ever saw. It was more intimate than a regular bedroom; it was stepping into his territory, walking onto his turf, and I knew that something had permanently changed between us as I crossed the threshold into the room.

The room was rather simple. A king-sized bed was pressed against the left wall. The crimson sheets were the only color in the room. The right side of the wall had a desk covered in files and papers. Newspaper clippings hung above it, stamped into the wall with thumb tacks. I didn’t have a moment to read what all the papers were about before Walter distracted me.

He arms wrapped around me as he lifted me up in the air. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. I clung to his shoulders, but he held me easily, as if I weighed no more than a few pounds. The show of pure strength did nothing to help the wet mess between my legs.

Walter walked us to the bed and lied me down on my back. He hovered over me but didn’t move to touch me. The longing and lust in his eyes was so vibrant, so undeniable, that I writher beneath him.

But his tone was calm as he said, “I need to ask you again. Is this what you want, Erin?”

“So much,” I breathed before pulling him against me.

His thigh moved between my legs, and he deepened the kiss as his leg pressed tightly against my core, applying pressure where I needed it most. Though our hands ran along each other’s bodies in a hungry frenzy, he kissed me differently than he had on the roof. It wasn’t rushed or desperate this time, but rather deep and slow and just as sensual. My toes curled.

I cried out as his mouth moved to my ear. He nipped at my earlobe—an action that sent shivers through my body—before whispering, “What is it, baby girl? What do you want? My fingers?”

I writhed against him.

“My mouth?”

Oh, fuck.

“Both?”

A wanton moan escaped me before I could stop it.

“Or are you already too desperate? That’s what it smells like to me. My little omega’s falling apart and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’re already desperate for me to fill your aching cunt, aren’t you, baby girl?”

His tone was different than I’d ever heard it. He spoke in a low, husky voice, and his tone was teasing but demanding at the same time. It made me dizzy.

“Already forgotten your words, omega? Has the heat gotten to your brain?” He buried his face in the crook of my neck and rubbed his nose along the skin below my ear. He was scenting me. “Or is it your Alpha who’s gotten to you?”

Instead of answering, I clawed at his clothes desperately, trying to undress him in my lustful haze. He allowed me to take his shirt off, though he undid his pants himself. His body… how was he even more impressive naked? I took one look at those sculpted muscles, at the dark swirls of hair that covered his chest and stomach, and knew that that was the kind of body that put the gods to shame. His cock bounced against his stomach as he stepped out of his underwear. It was thick and long, and as I watched the red, aching tip release pre-cum, I wondered how I could possibly fit his girth inside of me.

“My turn,” he breathed before moving to hover over me again.

One minute I was clad in my shorts and t-shirt, and the neck my clothes were in shreds on the floor. Walter’s hungry gaze made note of every inch of skin I beared for him, and I was too fucked out to feel self-conscious.

“Fuck me, Alpha,” I begged. “I need you inside of me!”

He growled before spreading my legs and pressing his length against my core. Our lips met just as he pushed inside me, and my nails dug into his shoulder at the burst of pleasure that ripped from me. His mouth was on my chest a second later, and as he kneaded my breasts in his hands, his teeth cut into the skin over my heart.

Claiming me.

...

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