#I colored their eyes but they’re so small you can hardly tell lol

[jinxedruby]

Linktober Day Twenty-Four: Spectral

The companion piece for Whumptober day twenty-three (previous part link will take you there)

First part | <- Previous part | Next part -> (coming soon)

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Deaf MC vs Devildom

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A HUGE thanks to @jaywalk-on-me for reaching out to me about this subject. I really hope I have given this it some justice.

Also, to avoid some of the controversies inside the Deaf Culture: I will not be referencing cochlear implants.

And a note for my fellow hearing people, there is definetelly not much difference between us and deaf/hard of hearing people, in fact, after reading about it, I can hardly consider it a disability seeing it can actually allow them to percieve the world in a much different way from ours and would not have any problems in their life if only us, hearing peers, were cooperative and understanding. Everything we need to do is literally minor details and does not hinder our own lifes in the slightest, in fact, it can even help us too! An example is captioning, there is literally nothing to lose, and honestly, even I put captioning on movies of my mother lenguage because sometimes I just can't understand what is being said and captions really help me with that and enjoy whatever I am watching to the fullest! So let's be more understanding. We are all humans, and can all learn from each other's perspective.

And as always

Warning: Uncensored swearing lol, and reference to lesson 16

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Lucifer

Ah, yes, he knew about it, was in your files, nailed it, he learned your local sign lenguage, all good.

Except his expressions are so damn stiff.

He signs a 'Welcome to The Devildom' and I kid you not, you will not be able to tell if he is trying to be welcomingly polite (and failing miserably) or threatening you.

It was definetelly both

He gets better at it-

Perks if you like classic music though, because you will be able to give him a whole different way of enjoying it.

He won't force you to speak if you choose not to, but he sure will never stop being delighted to hear your voice if you do.

It still baffles him how observant you are, may start trusting you to find details he missed on certain things.

.

Mammon

He definetelly forgot everything he learned on sign lenguage the moment he stepped out of the tutoring Lucifer made him and all his brothers, except for Levi and Satan, go through.

Yes he will mistake around 5 signs per day on the first week of your arrival in the Devildom.

And he will often forget that you most likelly cannot hear him (if his voice frequency doesn't match your hearing that is) and go off blabbing without signing and then just go "oi why ya ignoring me" and he definetelly is this close 👌to being wacked with the closest thing at range.

Again, he gets better too.

In fact, once he warms up to you (and that's like, real fucking fast) he will make so much effort to get things right, and he always pays attention to have captions in movie nights even without you asking??

He tries lip reading once when you told him it's not easy and, I will let it to your imagination what on hell he managed to lip read.

.

Leviathan

As mentioned above, he didn't need the tutoring. Why? Guess what, he already knew at least a few sign lenguages, all because of the many animes, games and shows he has watched portray it, even though the ammount of representation is small.(btw I recomend DARK, there is a deaf&mute character and oh boi she's awesome, it's on netflix)

So he definetelly had no problem communicating with you, in fact, he was almost relieved.

He doesn't need to speak verbally?? He basically would rather spoon his eyes out than talk on the phone so on drug levels texting instead is like heroin????

And oh lord you NEED to invite him to the music festivals on the human world catered towards deaf and hard of hearing people, be will LOVE it.

A little bit of downside though, some of his expression changes are very subtle, but as he spends more time with you, he will start incorporating character voices into expressions and body lenguage instead, and you bet he enjoys doing it.

He will definetelly make music just for you. You only hear high frequencies? Or maybe only low frequencies? Or just nothing at all but you enjoy the rythmic vibrations? He definetelly has spend an entire night making a full fucking album just for you.

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Satan

Seriously, he knows so many sign lenguages it actually made his way of signing pretty unique!

Another fake ass who will give you gentlemany smiles at first. He may be a way lot more smoother than Lucifer but you bet his fake ass is not passing your vibe check, not with the way his eyes just feel a little bit not right.

Another one who gets better though.

It's kind of nice how he grows so used to signing while speaking that his hands often give off a sign or two even when he is speaking to hearing people.

He will definetelly roast quite a few half assed interpreters.

Also he may or may not have gotten a new obssession after you two watched a few silent movies together??

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Asmodeus

Oh boy this one needs to chill out a bit.

If you can't interpret signs when done too fast then good luck because his hands will literally be able to spell a full fucking paragraph in 20 seconds.

And oh how he explores your other senses.

Definetelly goes to you first to judge how he looks.

Also he is the best option to keep yourself informed?? I mean, it's also something he can relate with, it doesn't matter if someone killed somebody or just broke their nail, he needs to know about it.

He may be a bit disappointed if you don't speak but he gets over it quickly.

Will ruin many people's carreer if they so much as refuse to attent to you just because you're deaf. There's just nothing wrong with it??? Stop being so petty!

He is now your biggest distraction in mid class and you will definetelly end each day carrying at least 10 paper notes in which he will try to speak with you. They definetelly smell like whatever he smells like at the time. And are definetelly written in colored pen. With glitter. And there are hearts. And possibly a kiss mark-

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Beelzebub

Big boy definetelly has two types of sign lenguage he uses, and if literally depends if he is eating and what he is eating.

Normally he is just, normal lol. Since he is pretty much quite a bit of an amateur at it he will make use of speech filters a lot when he needs to remember certain signs.

If he's holding something big like a sandwich he will either just gulf it all in to have both hands free or try to make a simplified version with one hand. I'll admit the first scenario is quite amusing.

Yes some of the first questions he asks is how to spells certain foods.

And yes you bet you won't be able to know all of them because Devildom food is definetelly something.

Oh and get ready for a bit of chaos if anyone refuses your order because you're deaf.

Please tell him to flap his wings and proceed lay on him or hug him. The vibrations will be very much close to one of those massage chairs.

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Belphegor

Oh boy.

First off, he did NOT know about you being deaf because thanks Lucifer.

You guys definetelly spoke in a lot of exchanged notes under his attic door.

He keeps them all hidden somewhere but he will never admit it.

If you're willing to teach him at least how to say 'hi', 'good night' or things like that, he will appear to not be very interested but once the entire lesson 16 fiasco happens they're definetelly the only signs he knows about for some reason when he finally gets tutored.

Still texts you instead.

Even in the same room.

That's what you get from the avatar of sloth I guess-

He does sign a few remarks at you per example commenting on how the new hairstyle Asmo decided to make made his bangs look like a poop behind his back.

Also this:

(The picture above actually happened and was translated to english from my mother lenguage)

[potter-imagines]

Sunday Morning (George Weasley)

Pairing: George Weasley x reader (y/n)

Prompt: George and Y/n have been dating for sometime now but hardly anyone in Hogwarts knows much about the couple. Everyone loves to make assumptions and imagine what it’s like but only the two of them truly know how wonderful it is. 

Disclaimer: if you consider making out and kissing light smut, then this would be light smut lol also I will be posting more Tuesday from previous request !!

Warning: implied smut, mainly fluffy

Word Count: 4.9k

No student in their right mind enjoyed waking up before noon on a Sunday morning at Hogwarts. Saturdays were reserved for Quidditch matches, late night parties, trouble, and day trips to Hogsmeade. Sundays were reserved for recovery. And this morning was no different.

A handful of students were scattered about the Great Hall munching on the delicious food before them. Despite the colorful and bright breakfast lining the tables, the mood was dull and tiresome. Small whispers were heard as well as the pages of a book being turned, otherwise, it was quiet. The Gryffindor table was bare- well almost.

Each table had at least seven students or more but at the Gryffindor table, there were only two.  The previous night had brought a never ending line of drinks and laughter. The Gryffindor common room was still buzzing even after the sun had risen. A nail-biting match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had taken place Saturday night. The tension was thick but the win tasted oh so sweet. Everyone was running on a high after the game. As a result of their victory, the fourth-year students and up decided to have a ‘little’ celebration. It could be assumed nearly no one went to bed the night fully sober, not even Hermione Granger. Fred Weasley had coaxed her into trying his beer after spending three hours following her around and pestering her with amusement. The same two Gryffindor’s sitting closely to each other at breakfast were the same two students who turned in for the night at 9pm and fell asleep in a sober state.

George Weasley and Y/n Y/l/n had been a couple for about a year and a half and seemed to only grow more infatuated with each other as the time swayed on. They were a more reserved couple, which surprised most. Fred and George had a large reputation at Hogwarts. Every student, as well as professor, knew their name. Even the ghosts and portraits would greet them by name!

The twins were outgoing, popular, chatty, and loud. They walked the castle with confidence like the prankster kings they are. That didn’t mean they weren’t two totally different people.

Fred took the lead in most situations and George followed after him with explanation. Fred acted on impulse and George put a bit more thought behind decisions. George was also more sympathetic than his twin. It was in these differences and more that Y/n fell for George and why they connected so perfectly. She was similar to him; outgoing, but still solemn and secretive. Happy and bubbly, thoughtful and caring.

When word spread about Y/n and George dating, everyone expected the two of them to be showing off their relationship with fireworks, bright lights, and confetti. Though the pair walked calmly into their class, holding hands and giggling to themselves as they whispered. They didn’t feel the need to show anything off to anyone or prove a single thing. Besides, Y/n didn’t want the whole school knowing her personal business. It felt a little more personal when they saved it for behind closed doors. 

This doesn’t mean George wasn’t affectionate with Y/n in public. He always had his hand on her, typically laced within her own. He’d walk with her to every class, leaving her with kiss on both cheeks, her forehead, then lips. He’d flirt with her in class through notes and tease her endlessly. Everyone knew they were a couple deeply in love, they just didn’t know as much as they wanted. Gossip was the devil’s music and almost every student had their radio volumes on high. But George and Y/n refused to give them anything to talk about. It was admirable in the way. Their love was crystal clear, everyone could see that, but there was so much more beneath the surface their eyes were blocked from, and the couple loved that.

George and Y/n spent Saturday night in George’s dorm room, having their own little party. They mingled and socialized with their friends for a good two hours before sneaking away to the boy’s dormitory tower. Y/n managed to swipe a large carton of pumpkin juice to share then chased behind George. A smile kissed her lips when she noticed her boyfriend was having the same ideas as her. In his hands was a stack of cookies, and a bag of crisps.

“Great minds think alike.” He smirked and reached his hand out, eager for her touch again. She accepted the offer and delicately tugged on his hand. George glanced back, curious at her gesture. A gleeful flash crossed her sharp features. Y/n grabbed a fistful of George’s black robes and slammed his body towards her. George gasped slightly at the movement, clutching the food in his arms as to keep himself from dropping them.

Y/n matched her lips with George, dragging the tall Gryffindor down for a kiss. Bent at the knees, George leaned back so her body could rest against his. Y/n’s grasp remained on his chest but her free hand yanked at the back of his neck, deepening their already heated make out. George allowed his hand to slip down her back, the other still holding their snacks. Resting right at the small of her back, George began to lift his head, a signal for Y/n to pull back. A childlike pout seeped on her face while she let out a huff. She knew they would continue with this in his room but she couldn’t resist the opportunity to get a special sneak peek. A chuckle emanated through the grinning redhead. He was still shocked by her boldness- not that he minded. Not in the slightest. George leaned forward and painted a trail of kisses all across her face, not missing an inch of skin. The young witch retaliated the attack with a jab to his side, then a full-on tickle war. Loudly yelping, George attempted to grab her hands, but she was too quick. This was a typical moment between them, but not when they were somewhat in front of their friends. Not that they were paying any attention at all.

The partygoers seemed far too engaged in the music and talk that they missed the sweet entanglement. What a shame, George thought, it was what they had been waiting for after all. Something to talk about. Although the party was sure to give other chatter and topics for the next week to discuss. Y/n slowly stopped, still buzzing with laughter. George shook his head and leaned into the wall, still trying to recover from his girlfriend’s torturous wrath.  His warm brown eyes were trained on her. They had been together for a while but sometimes, he still thought it was a dream. George left one last kiss to her forehead whispering against her skin, savoring the moment.

“I love you, darling... you’re so beautiful.”

“Stop it Georgie, you’re making me blush.” Y/n squealed as George grabbed at her waist and gave me a small twirl. Her flats landed back on the stone stairs with a clank. Leaning up, Y/n left one last kiss to George’s pink lips.

“That’s kind of the whole point, you’re adorable when your flustered. Now can I have another kiss, darling?”

“You’re going to have to catch me first!” With a quick giggle, Y/n turned on her heel and sprinted up the steps of the boy’s dormitory. The staircase was spiraled making the chase more difficult. Y/n was well aware she wasn’t going to win, but that was part of the fun. George being much taller took two steps at a time with ease, rapidly catching up to the young witch. This was their game, George could easily pull her back and get a kiss himself, but it wouldn’t be as exciting this way.

Y/n stopped at George’s door and looked behind her only to see George nearly towering over her smiling. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for the pair to enter. Luckily, all his roommates were still wrapped up in the party and wouldn’t be up for a few hours. George led Y/n to his bed, snatching back the covers and practically shoving her on the mattress. Y/n’s glamorous laughter filled the emptiness, warming George’s heart.

Pulling his wand out, George muttered a privacy spell, not wanting anymore to hear your sweet noise that would soon be coating the walls. He set his wand on his nightstand then focused back on the girl laying underneath him. She looked so pure, so dreamy just lying there. George moved forward, unable to resist the gravitational pull. This kiss was different than earlier- more serious and compassionate. Y/n wrapped her hands around his face, desperate to have as much contact with George as possible. They spent the rest of the night tangled in his bed sheets and howling with laughter. They watched the stars outside the small dorm window and held each other for the remained of the night. George’s roommates hadn’t even noticed the pair passed out in his bed when they turned in for the night.

Fred walked over, excited to tell his brother about his snog fest with Angelina but stopped short. His twin was sound asleep, arms secured around the smaller frame in front of him. It was a good thing Fred liked Y/n, otherwise he surely would’ve kicked the girl out. Although he didn’t have the heart to do so when he saw the couple. Y/n’s hands clutched her boyfriend’s grip as her head rested against his chest, buried in a deep slumber.

“Oi’ Fred, leave ‘em be. They’re in love.” Lee, still buzzing off the flowing drink, was stumbling to his bed, tearing off his school uniform in the process. The lights were dim and the rising sun began to break through the dorm windows.

Fred walked towards Lee Jordan’s bed and started rummaging through his dresser drawers. He was in search of something, Lee wasn’t even sure. Soon enough Fred came back to his bed and sat down with a camera in his hands. Lifting the lens to his view, Fred snapped a line of photos of the sleeping couple. Lee chuckled with a roll of his eyes. Fred always loved harassing his twin about how in love he was with their friend. Lee and Fred were happy it was Y/n and not some other girl.

The pictures slowly processed but Fred’s interest had moved on. Lee was already tucked into bed, his eyes closed as his drunk snores shook the room. The alcohol was wearing off and the desire for sleep was settling in. Fred threw on a pair of red pajamas and climbed into bed. He was in another dream land before his head could hit the pillow, which brings us back to breakfast Sunday morning.

Y/n and George enjoyed the lack of life in the dinning hall. They shared a similar group of friends and loved them very much, but it was a special moment when they were able to bask in the light of each other. George’s company was like a never-ending hug. His smile conflicted with the fearless butterflies fluttering in her stomach. No other man had ever had this effect on her. She was weaved into his very soul.

Sitting and chatting amongst themselves, George had an arm thrown loosely around his girlfriend, admiring her morning appearance. Her hair was still messy, needing a brush through. There were tiny lines under her eyes from the lack of sleep she had been getting. George knew she slept best when they shared a bed so he always tried to let her sleep in as late as her vivid mind would allow. For Y/n, sleeping in until 10am on the weekends was considered a treat. She hated feeling as if she has wasted her day away by sleeping. George on the other hand would stay in bed all week long if his professors allowed it.

“Did you hear Lee last night? I heard him trying to get to the bathroom and when he was going for the door, he tripped over Fred’s school bag and took down his nightstand with him! Fred screamed so loud- I can’t believe you didn’t wake up!” Her musical laughter sent tingels through George’s body. It was like a dose of dopamine, his eyes couldn’t resist glancing down at her. George had almost every little centimeter of Y/n’s grinning features memorized in his skull. Although there were pictures to taped to his walls of you so of course that played a role as well. But he often found himself staring at her- sometimes not even noticing the diversion of attention. Most of Snape’s class George spent daydreaming about his future with Y/n. He’d think of their wedding, buying a house together, starting a family, celebrating holidays together, seeking out new adventures and everything in between. He found himself eager to leave Hogwarts for good and move out so you could start that chapter of your life together.

Squeezing Y/n shoulder, George pulled her closer to his side,

“No, I slept like a baby next to you. Can’t believe you’re thinking about other guys while you’re laying in my arms, that’s just heartbreaking-“ “George!” Wide eyed, Y/n smacked her boyfriend’s side. George erupted in a fit of chuckles, rubbing the side of his arm she had attacked. “I’m only teasin’ you, darling. Wish I would’ve seen that though, I’m sure Fred will give him hell for it.”

“It wasn’t a pleasant sight at all. Poor boy just laid there, didn’t even get up for another few minutes.” Y/n took a bit out of her toast absentmindedly. Her thoughts were still on last night and the tumble her friend had taken. It was pretty funny, but she was too tired to humor the moment. Not to mention the moans of pain Lee let out as he squirmed around on the floor. It was an odd method to rid the pain, not that it seemed to relieve anything.

“Sure it hurt his massive ego more than anything.”

Y/n was about to change the subject when the sound of footsteps made the couple turn. By the entrance of the Great Hall was half the group of Y/n and George’s friends. Fred, Lee, Hermione, Harry and Ron found their way to the pair as they entered for breakfast. Ron was visibly excited at the menu for the day. He plopped himself diagonal from his older brother in front of a mouth water mountain of pancakes swimming in syrup and crisp strips of bacons displayed on top. The ginger wasted no time digging into his meal. Hermione squinted her eyes at him but took the open seat next to him regardless. She was across from Y/n and gave her close friend a sweet smile and ‘good morning’. Harry sat next to Hermione and Lee crossed the table to occupy the spot next to Y/n. She looked at him knowingly and before she could ask how he was feeling, the Chip to George’s Dale greeted them,

“Good morning, love birds! Have we missed out on any adorably puke worthy moments yet?”

“Hello Fred- and everyone else.” Fred swung his leg one at a time over the long bench, shoving himself in-between George and Y/n. This earned a harsh shove from George causing Fred to bump Y/n. Her juice splashed onto the table, wetting the front of her notebook. The girl glared at the twins, annoyed by the shift in company. George muttered an apology while Fred simply shrugged and leaned into her.

“How are you feeling after your little accident last night, Jordan?”

“Oh god,” Lee face palmed immediately while Fred started to laugh at the recollection, “Please don’t tell me you were awake.” He said embarrassed. Y/n nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I woke up when I heard you talking about the bathroom then I saw you get tangled in Fred’s bag and fall onto the floor. You also knocked over your stand I believe. Then you just laid on the floor and I reckon you were gonna end it all, felt sorry honestly. I would’ve gotten up but I was too tired to help.” This caused the whole table to laugh in unison at her statement. Lee scurried to explain and calm down his friends,

“You would be right- it’s not funny, guys! I was piss ass drunk and couldn’t tell my right foot from my left.” The giggles continued on for a while as Harry and Ron asked Lee to explain. He told the his side of the event, which created ever more rambunctiousness. Hermione was holding to Harry’s shoulder for stability as her body shook with humor.

“Speaking of last night, you two cuties seemed to have a fun time alone!” Fred sounded a bit too happy for either of the couple’s liking.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Fred?”

“Don’t ask-“ Lee was swiftly interrupted by a gleaming Fred.

“Glad you asked!” He cheered. Lifting himself up, Fred reached into the pocket of his robes and retrieved four square slips. He held the small card like squares in one hand and, much to his brother’s disbelief, wrapped his free his arm around Y/n’s shoulders. George’s eye narrowed at this. What was his brother up to? The mischievous smirk returned to Fred’s face as he looked between Y/n and his brother. It was so hard for Fred to get something good to tease George with. He practically gave him nothing!

Fred turned the squares around flashing the contents to the four friends sitting infront of him. Hermione was the first to react, gasping as she took one of the squares from Fred. Her hand was covering her mouth as she awed. Ron looked… disgusted? It was hard to tell. He looked pleased with the food on his plate and in his mouth, but bitter towards Fred’s surprise. Ron waved his hand, signaling to Fred that he didn’t care.

Harry just smiled then glanced up towards George, then over to Y/n. By this point, Y/n had enough of the mixed emotion stares from her friends and yanked Fred’s arm back so she could see what the pictures were of.

Suddenly, the Gryffindor felt her mouth open in shock as she examined the photo. George mirrored her actions and looked at his twin in confusion.

“You creep! We were sleeping.” Y/n screeched at the image clutched between Fred’s fingers. George attempted to snatch the pile from his hands but being twins, Fred saw that one coming. He pulled them back, there was no way Fred would allow George or Y/n not have the pictures that quickly. Lee Jordan had a similar smirk as Fred, it was amusing for a Sunday morning. Saturday hadn’t given much news for the week so of course their friends were bound to fall back on the topic of George and Y/n. Fred had struck gold with this one. It was harmless of course, but it made the couple flustered to deal with the teasing.

“I told him to leave you guys alone, but knowing Fred, this is nothing. Actually quite a cute little moment-“ Hermione interrupted Lee with an excited voice,

“Oh my god, Y/n! This is so adorable. I have to show Ginny!” She flashed a grin to Y/n and exited the hall with a speed walk. Y/n let out a groan. Hermione would show Ginny plus some, Ginny would show Alicia plus some, and so on. She didn’t care so much as she was annoyed to have attention drawn to her relationship with George. It happens to a lot of couples at Hogwarts. It’s a big school, but the students are close. Couples get a little more attention among the students. Watched with more scrutiny by students praying for drama, sadly there was an overcrowding of these students at Hogwarts. Talk spread like wildfires, and in the process, words get manipulated. Rumors ensue and drama explodes. Y/n and George were happy- in love. The last thing they wanted was talk around the castle.

“Girls…” Ron mumbled and shook his head.

“Really, Fred? You know I’m going to make it my goal to get a picture of you snogging Angelina. At least people know I’m dating Y/n, wait until they get ahold of you and Angelina! The gossip! I can already hear it.” George’s threat came with a devilish smirk to his lips. On the other side of Fred, Y/n felt her body calming at George’s words. He was cracking playful taunts and was somehow enjoying the situation.  

“Ah it wasn’t that bad, relax. I’m just giving the people what they want! You two are so secretive- everyone wanted to see more! I mean, you guys are basically the topic of everyone’s discussion lately. It’s sickeningly adorable so chill out. You don’t need to take it that far.”

“For once, he’s right, George.” Y/n squished Fred as she leaned across his body causing him to move back so she could squeeze George’s hand. “I think it’s cute. You look so soft and peaceful when you’re asleep!”

The four boys watched hesitantly. There were rare instants like these where they got a glimpse into the layers of the couple’s ways. This also means they had a feeling where this was about to turn, and none of them wants to deal with any sappiness before noon. Just as predicted, George slides his hand from Y/n’s up the side of her arm to her neck, where he held a half grip for composure and control. Nudging her forward by the back of her neck, George linked his lips to Y/n and kissed her with his twin still leaning back. This time, Fred did not want to sit in the middle of them. A chorus of protests could be heard as Ron threw a piece of bread at George. Harry stuck his tongue out in an overexaggerated expression of disgust. Hands secured around his face. Lee opened his fingers to peek through waiting for the heated embrace to wrap up.

“Well how could I not when I have the most beautiful girl in the world laying in my arms?” This was their favorite game to play. George would over play his cheesiness until his friends would lose interest and demand the cuteness to stop.

Y/n batted her eyes up at George, bathing in the reactions of her friends. They made her and George uncomfortable more times than she could count so it was self-rewarding to turn the table on them.  

Fred place one hand on Y/n’s shoulder and the other on his twin, shoving them apart in one motion,

“Okay, ew.” A grimace covered Fred’s features. He found himself wished he had stayed in bed instead of coming to breakfast. It was far too early to see this much love. George’s plate was nearly empty, and he was finishing up the last bit of his omelet. His coffee cup was bone dry, having been that way shortly after they sat down. It was no secret he had a bit of an addiction of caffeine. Y/n sipped from a small glass cup. The dark blue liquid was sweet and smooth. Blueberry juice was a rarity she had only stumbled upon at Hogwarts. She could recall the look of cluelessness her muggle cashier had given her when she asked for a gallon from a supermarket near her home.

Y/n chewed on the last piece of her toast while George gave his brother innocent eyes,

“What? I’m just giving the people what they want, what they’ve been dying to talk about! You said it yourself, Freddie.” Fred shot sharp daggers at George for his wit. He knocked him on the side of the head a replied, 

“Okay, I take it back then. I’d rather not know, and you can go be all lovey dovey in private, away from me please!” Lifting his hand, Fred started shooing his hand and motioned towards the staircase outside the large doors.

Harry and Lee paused their side conversation and Ron sat down his fork for a moment. Ron grasps his chin and slides his lips to the side of his mouth, as if deep in contempt. He then remarked,

“Agreed.” Harry and Lee chuckled and shrugged.

More students had started to flow freely into the dining hall. Y/n figured the more Gryffindor’s that swept into the hall, the less occupying the common room.  The gentle brown orbs of George found their way to Y/n’s every few seconds. When their gaze met, her bottom lip drew back as she bit on the skin subconsciously, George noticed this. He shifted forward not realizing he was leaning in towards her. Fred shouted a quick ‘no’ not wanting a repeat of the previous scenario. Y/n made kissy faces at Fred, mocking his displeasure. At the same time George brought his finger up to his twin’s head and delivered a hard flick. Fred reached for the side of his head, glaring at George.

“C’mon, George. I think we have some business to attend to, in private.” Y/n winked at her boyfriend who had a cheeky smile plastered to his lips. George sprung up from his seat and quickly got off the bench and extended his arm. A light tint popped on Y/n’s cheeks as his thoughtfulness. Wrapping her arm around his, she accepted his help and climbed over the seat.

“Couldn’t agree more, love.” George and Y/n started walking away from their friends and heading for the common room. They hadn’t made any plans for the day anyhow so spending it next to the fire or in his room sounded more than appealing. George stopped their pace just as they reached the massive doors of the Great Hall. Bending slightly at the knees, George pressed a feather like kiss to Y/n’s forehead, then on the tip of her nose, earning a wave of giggles from the girl. It was his favorite sound. George attached his arm around hers once again and set back off for their destination. Before they could make it out free, the familiar voice of Fred shouted across the hall,

“You better keep it on your side, George! And not on my bed or I swear to Merlin I will hex both of you!”

George waved back to him, giving him a thumbs up with a less than confident expression. His hand trailed down from her back to the curve of her ass and started to grab at the skin until she swatted it away, feeling the pairs of eyes glued to them. It was bold, undoubtably hot, but there were far too many students in the hall for Y/n’s liking to continue it there. His touch creates a pit of warmth in the bottom of her stomach. They didn’t show any of this in front of their friends, so it was exciting in a way but worrisome at the same time. Y/n had no intentions of turning a PG-13 situation R in the Great Hall with most of her friends and a bunch of second- and first-year children trying to enjoy breakfast. Didn’t mean she wasn’t feeling a bit frustrated and wanting to throw that feeling back on him. Fred scowled but sat back down. They were twins, he knew George wouldn’t but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by his mockful antics.

“Not nice, George. You’re so mean to poor Freddie. I think I should go talk to him and make it up to him… for how rude you were.” Her words dripped with witticism and a sweet passion burned in her eyes. George knew that look; he absolutely loved that look.

“No, you’re not making anything up to him. You’re mine, not Fred’s or have you forgotten? Now go up to your dorm room and meet me in mine in twenty.” There was a difference to the twinkle in his eyes. Darker than before, more fired up. Y/n’s hand shook at his words, noticeably flushed and taken aback by his strong words. They had only recent started being intimate a few months ago so they had been finding out new things about each other every day. This, this was definitely new. And Y/n found herself weak at the knees by it.

These moments were not too common, but she loved them. It was fun to see George getting worked up by just her teasing words alone. He shifted as he picked up the pace. The material of his jeans growing constrictive and uncomfortable with every step. Y/n was practically being dragged down the long hall until George came to a halt, then abruptly turned to head back in the direction of the Great Hall. Before walking off completely, he left one last peck to Y/n’s warm cheek, then dart off. 

Lost at his change, Y/n furrowed her brows in question, “Where are you going?”

George’s body swirled around at her request. He didn’t stop his pace, now walking backwards towards the dining hall. Shoving his thumb to his back, he gestured to their previous spot,

“I’ve gotta tell my roommate not to come back to the dorm for a few hours. We’re going to be quite busy, darling. It seems there’s a lesson that you’ve forgot. I’m going to have to teach you and knowing how stubborn you are, it could take a while.” With a wink he rushed into the hall and disappeared. Y/n didn’t need to be told more. She started walking again- or rather running towards her dorm room to freshen up. Based on his words, she knew it would be one hell of a morning.

[palbabor-writes]

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

[taetaespeaches]

“You’re always going to be enough, Kid.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: fluff; angst word count: 2.2K

a/n: omg this is the last of this angsty period for Min/Kid!! We have officially made it! This is hardly angst, it just has Kid expressing some of her insecurities and it’s definitely mostly fluff. This takes place the morning after, “I didn’t think you’d care if I came back.” Our babies are on their way to a happy, healthy relationship! Yay! Thanks for sticking with me through the sad shit, hopefully this officially makes up for it all lol. I hope you all enjoy and thank for reading! :)) 

p.s. the angsty bit of this is roughly based on “peace” off of Taylor Swift’s album, folkore. 

CUDDLING closer to the warm body next to you, you hummed contently as you felt a small kiss on the top of your head.

“Morning, Kid,” Yoongi’s low, sleep-filled voice gently spoke, you smiling against his bare chest. In place of a response, you placed a kiss to his warm skin, before peppering them across his chest, his light laughter rumbling against your frame as you did so. “Gross, affection,” he teased.

“Shush,” you mumbled against his skin, “you love it.”

He hummed, wrapping his arms around your body, hugging you tightly against him. “It feels early.”

“There’s no sun,” you commented, peaking past the man’s form to inspect the window, the sky still darkened as the sun was just preparing to emerge.

“Why are we awake?” He asked you, confusion drenching the question making you giggle.

Arching your back so you could look up at his face, Yoongi tucked his chin into his neck to peer down at you. “You’re cute,” you pouted up at him, endeared by his sleepy swollen eyes.

A small smile graced his face just before he scrunched his nose cutely, a sign of his negation. “Want to watch the sunrise with me?” Your eyes widened at the question. You hadn’t spent many mornings with the man yet, but you knew watching the sunrise was not one of his regular hobbies.

Sitting up on your elbows, you stared at him for a moment, studying him. “What?” He asked, a faint smile on his lips.

“Just trying to figure out who you are and how you got into the body of my Honey Boy,” you teased, your gaze traveling his features. A gummy smile beamed at you as he reached up, tousling your hair a bit.

“I’m just full of surprises,” he told you, meeting your eyes.

You held each other’s gazes for a moment before yours traveled to his lips. Suddenly, Yoongi lifted himself off the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows and forearms, craning his neck to push his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, Yoongi pulling away to rest his forehead to yours.

“I need coffee,” you smiled, Yoongi chuckling in response.

Kissing you once more he nodded. “I’m on it.”

Yoongi lazily crawled out of bed, you smiling in amusement as you watched him waddle around the room, finding his clothing.

“Forget the sunrise, I prefer this view,” you teased as you sat up on the bed, Yoongi stalling to shoot you a glare. “What?”

“Stop it,” he warned you, an adorable smile on his face as he avoided your gaze, grabbing his underwear off the floor.

“Not my fault you’re sexy,” you flirted, Yoongi laughing at the comment as he put the bottoms on.

“Yeah, yeah, Kid,” he mumbled, walking toward you, scooping his shirt up along the way. Leaning down, he placed a kiss to your forehead. “Remind me to move those fucking condoms to the drawer,” he mumbled against your forehead, you laughing loudly at the comment as your hands settled on his hips.  

“No,” you whined playfully, Yoongi smiling as he kissed your lips once. “Watching you walk across the room butt ass naked at the very last minute is my favorite part.”

“That’s your favorite part?” He asked you in offense, pulling away just slightly to look at you with an expression of disbelief.

You smiled widely, laughing as he shook his head, his gummy grin breaking through. Reaching up, you poked one of his cheeks and he grabbed your hand in his, bringing it to his lips. A shiver suddenly shook Yoongi’s frame, you shooting him a wide-eyed look. “It’s cold outside the bed,” he told you, giving a fake shiver to further his point.

“You’re the one who left the bed,” you told him sassily, Yoongi scoffing in response.

“Where the hell are my pants?” He looked around making you giggle. He spotted them at the bottom of the bed on the floor and went toward them, snatching them up.

“Don’t put on jeans,” you protested, Yoongi looking at you with wide eyes.

“They’re all I have.”

You let out a sigh wrapping yourself up tighter in your comforter. “You need to start bringing an overnight bag.”

“Oh fuck, I actually have one in my car.”

Giving him a look of confusion, you asked, “wait, why?”

“I was on my way back to the studio,” he told you, your expression staying the same, making Yoongi let out a small amused chuckle.

“You’ve been staying at the studio?”

“I didn’t really feel like being around anyone,” he told you more seriously, you nodding.

“No, yeah, I get that,” you gave him a small smile. You stared at one another for a moment before you smiled a little wider. Put your pants on so you can go get your sweats,” you teased, Yoongi chuckling as he stepped into his jeans.

“Yes, ma’am,” he sassed on his way out the door.

“And make my coffee!” You shouted after him with a smile. You could have been mistaken, but you swore you heard a scoff in response. You smiled to yourself as Yoongi shifted around your kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

Looking around the room, listening to him shuffle outside your bedroom, you sighed in contentment, the space feeling warmer and more peaceful knowing he was there, and that he’d keep coming back. You didn’t even flinch when you heard the front door open and close, alerting you of his momentary absence as he went to retrieve his overnight bag. Instead, you took it as your cue to crawl out of bed yourself and get some clothes on.

Singing to yourself as you put some underwear and sweatpants on, you didn’t hear Yoongi re-enter the apartment until he was walking back into your room, complaining about the weather.

“It’s still so cold in the mornings,” he whined through a pout, dropping his duffle on your bed. “It’s April, isn’t it supposed to start warming up?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, Grampa Min,” you teased, turning to face him with your upper half still bare, which Yoongi did not miss as his eyes lingered on your body for a moment.

Walking over to you he attempted to bite back a grin as he shook his head. “You’re never gonna let me live, are you?” You shook your head with a proud smile, Yoongi chuckling just before he began taking his shirt off.

“Oh?” You said in surprise. “We’ll miss the sunrise.”

Pulling the shirt over his head, he revealed a wide gummy grin as his shoulders shook in laughter. “Here,” he told you, holding the bottom of the shirt open, nodding to it.

“Oh,” you said, in realization this time, understanding he was wanting you to wear his shirt. “Oh, you really are cute,” you grinned, allowing him to put the shirt over your arms and head.

“Yeah, yeah, a honey boy,” he said for you, you smiling widely.

“You are,” you cooed, pressing your lips to his as you pulled the shirt down your abdomen. “Thanks, baby,” you whispered against his mouth before walking past him. “Hurry up and get dressed, we’ll miss the sunrise.”

Making your way to your kitchen, you went straight for the coffee mugs, feeling very appreciative for your personal coffee maker that was currently dressing in your room. Filling your own mug, you poured another for Yoongi before taking a sip of your own.

As you waited for him to meet you in the kitchen, you started thinking about Yoongi staying in the studio. It was something you would have done. Isolating yourself, almost as if you deserved the pain of loneliness and the hurt that came with the fight. Shielding yourself from the world, and the one person you wanted most, as you sorted through your thoughts. It wasn’t really any different to what you had been doing in your apartment for the past few days.

The tulips, sitting in a water pitcher on the kitchen counter, caught the corner of your eye, and you focused in on them. They were soft colors, pink and white, and it reminded you of the blush of Yoongi’s cheeks when you’d stare at him and make him feel nervous.

You heard Yoongi’s sock covered feet scoot across the floor toward you, but you continued staring at the flowers. Yoongi came to stand next to you, pressing his lips to your temple gently, the touch comforting, and you leaned into his frame.

“I love the bouquet,” you told him, your gaze lingering on the flowers for a moment longer before breaking your focus and taking another drink of your coffee, looking toward the sliding glass door that led to your deck area.

“Yeah?” He mumbled against your skin before his hands came to take your mug of coffee from you, you letting him easily as you watched him hold it in his large grasp.

“Yeah,” you watched as he brought the mug to his lips. “Even if I pretend in the moment I don’t care for them, I love flowers.”

“Noted,” he grinned and then took a drink.

“I poured you a cup,” you told him, gesturing to the mug next to him.

“Yeah, I saw,” he grinned again, you giggling lightly. He breathed out slowly as you reached for the other mug of coffee, claiming it as your own. You continued looking outside as Yoongi watched you. “What’s on your mind, Kid?”

You sighed, tapping your finger on the ceramic in your hands. “Can we have a bit of a serious talk real quick?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nodded, you looking up to meet his thoughtful gaze.

“I’m gonna fuck up, Yoongi,” you told him, your insecurities coming to the surface, disrupting the easy-going morning. His eyes were on you intently as he awaited your next words. “You told me that you go through a lot mentally, but I do too, and I just feel like I have to warn you that I have my own burdens and they do get heavy sometimes,” you breathed out, pausing for a moment to inspect his features, searching for signs of panic. There were none. "I'll lock myself away as I sort through my mind, I'm going to get mean in fights, I'll to try to push you away.” His eyes were still gentle as he looked at you.

“I know all this, Kid.” Your eyes widened at the comment, surprised by the words. He let out a tiny chuckle. “I mean, I don’t know how you act when you’re stuck in your head and your insecurities, and I’m yet to see you actually be mean in a fight,” he gave you a small smile, your lips quirking up as well. “But I know.” You stared at him and he sighed. “I always prepare two masks, hiding my true self behind the defensive image, I thoroughly hide myself,” he recited, your eyes widening at the lyrics of his song ‘140503 at Dawn’. “Out of all my lyrics, I was surprised at first to find out those were the ones that stuck out to you.”

You recalled the moment in the café on your second (impromptu) date when you showed him you had scribbled those lyrics down in your journal upon your first listen of Agust D.

“Jesus,” you giggled in embarrassment, looking down to your feet. “You must have thought I was such a freak.”

“No, no,” he smiled, “not at all.” Dipping his head to catch your gaze, you looked up to meet his eyes. “I thought you were interesting, and that maybe we would relate on a lot more than what we were seeing on the surface. I think there’s a reason everything feels so comfortable between us.”

“This shit lives in me though, Yoongi. And I know you get that feeling, but I just need you to truly understand that the baggage comes with me,” you warned him.

“I know,” he nodded sincerely.

“I can be your friend, and lover, and I can fight beside you and remind you of who you are underneath the mask, and I can give you silence, and-” you trailed off, tears gathering in your eyes. “I can’t promise you peace,” you said, your voice breaking.

“That’s more than enough,” he assured you. “And if you fuck up, you’ll still be enough.”

You gave a slight smile at the comment before turning serious again. “Are you sure?”

“Be my girlfriend,” he suddenly told you.

“What?” You asked in surprise, your eyes widening at the… request?

“Will you?” He adjusted, giving you a small shy smile.

Looking at him in that moment, him staring at you, you both knew you already belonged with each other. A label wasn’t necessary, but the sentiment was there. And of course you wanted to be his girlfriend. “Obviously,” you smiled widely, a laugh slipping between your lips at the small blush on his cheeks. “Oh my god, this makes you my honey boy-friend,” you cooed. “Swoon.”

His shoulders shook in laughter as he leaned forward, catching your lips in a kiss. You kissed him back, holding your mug in one hand so you could place your other hand on his plush and pink-tinted cheek.

“Swoon,” he giggled against your lips, you laughing with him. Pecking your lips once more, he leaned his forehead against yours. “You’re always going to be enough, Kid. Don’t worry about that.”

Smiling, you kissed him gently once more. “You too, Min.”

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 4

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Sumamry: Mumbo was surprised to find that Grian was right when he said the egg was magical.

TW: Slight electrocution I suppose, and descriptions of lightning

Word Count: 2415

Notes: Again, the two farms are in the overworld, not in the Nether or End for the sake of the fic

Enjoy! And this one deserves a Read More because it’s long lol

——————

By the end of the next day, Mumbo had finished his first farm and half of his second farm. Much to his surprise, the egg didn’t bear any harm. It was strangely quiet recently but it didn’t bother him any. At the moment, it was in his inventory should anyone come by and see that he had it. It’d ruin his plans and he didn’t want to give up the egg just yet. Really, he could probably keep it forever. It had been completely safe and comfortable- or, as comfortable as an egg can be- since he stole it. Mumbo called that pretty responsible.

Who was he kidding, Grian would kill him eventually if he never found it himself.

He laid down the last of the comparators for the third row, focused more on finishing his farm than overthinking the egg situation. If all went well so far, they should be able to work on their own if he flipped a lever. The redstoner pulled the egg from his inventory and held it up to his face.

“I think everything looks about right so far, yeah?” He turned the egg as if there was a face to show his work. The egg quite obviously never spoke but it helped to explain the redstone and find the flaws in his contraptions.

Nothing seemed out of place. The first row’s test went swimmingly and by replicating that a few more times, all should go as planned when he tested them together. With his luck it may not happen but he could stand to be a little optimistic at least. Mumbo went on to build the last of the uniform rows and easily finished another quarter of the farm. All was down to just encasing said farm in a wall of glass to avoid the items spilling over the sides.

He stood back once more with his hands on his hips, the egg now by his feet. The redstoner was proud to say the least. He looked down at the egg which only sat stock still. Leaving the egg, he turned to dig in his chest for more materials.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the egg wouldn’t stay still for much longer.

“Glass, glass, where on Earth did I put the glass?” He mumbled to himself. He continued to rummage. Eventually, he pulled away from the chest with an internal cheer. “Of course it was next to the pistons.”

He swirled back around when he began to hear small pops from behind him. As he did, Mumbo’s eyes widened. Small purple sparks crackled every so often at the base of the egg and quickly began to grow in size. The egg itself launched into a fit of rapid vibrating.

“Oh! Uh-oh!” He dropped the glass next to him, shattering upon impact, and hurriedly jogged to the now terrifyingly lively egg. “Please tell me you're supposed to do that!”

The redstoner hesitated, going to touch it, then pulling away with a worried whimper. Mumbo didn’t want to touch it but he panicked as he was at a loss of what to do. The egg was calm for weeks before now. Even Grian would’ve said something if the egg had done something like this before Mumbo stole it.

Ah…Grian did tell him it was a magical egg.

Mumbo only thought Grian was joking to keep him from taking it. He’s never seen a dragon egg do that! It was just from the update, he suggested to himself. Eggs were just suddenly powerful and might destroy his days of work. He laughed nervously and pulled at his tie. It didn’t matter what he thought, the small sparks were now large bolts that shot their way into the ground. It singed the grass around it, turning it to a coal black. He had to back away from the egg’s ever expanding radius of energy.

“Oh what do I do- what do I do?!” Then, the obvious idea appeared and he palmed his forehead. “Grian!”

The redstoner fumbled to get his communicator from his pocket, almost dropping it several times. He miss-clicked several icons with petrified fingers and growled in frustration. Only when he finally opened the chat, the egg ceased its episode with an immediate halt. He looked up from the screen with caution and took another step away from the egg.

The area fell silent. Not a bird’s chirp or leave’s rustle broke the blanket of stillness that suddenly washed over everything. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, though.

He inched forward with small steps, clutching his communicator. Seconds passed, then a minute.

“H…Hello?” He said tentatively. He stuck a leg out, poking at it with the tip of his shoe then retracting his leg once more. A sigh escaped his lips. “Good, I guess that’s over with then.”

But it wasn’t. The egg was hardly finished as the bolts started again, much much larger than their already massive size they reached before it stopped the first time. Mumbo shrieked and attempted to retreat back to his chest. It took no longer than five seconds before a wave of the purple energy resonated through the ground and absorbed into the two farms. It knocked Mumbo from his feet and onto the grass, sending an electric shiver through his body.

He shielded his neck with his arms and waited. He only turned over when the sounds of roaring pistons caught his attention. But, that was hardly what he worried about as he watched in awe- good or bad, he wasn’t sure yet- at the effects of the egg’s sudden show of magic.

Both farms were activated and running faster than any farm he’d ever seen. Items upon items flowed down water streams and into stacks of chests. Some items avoided their intended route and simply floated in all directions above the farms. It was loud, incredibly loud. Mumbo nearly had to cover his ears as he initially cowered from the noise. However, he soon pulled himself to his feet and slowly approached the over-efficient farms.

A violet haze emitted from the redstone, replacing its originally reddish color, and from the cracks between each set of stone bricks. Each block crackled and hissed with energy, and it almost felt as if he were gaining some of that energy himself. Small bolts fizzled out over his suit. He lifted his left hand and turned it over, watching as sparks flew over and down his fingers to their tips.

To put it simply, it was a beautiful and supernatural sight. He wasn't sure how to react. His own heart was still racing- from the energy around him or his nerves, he also didn’t know.

While in the middle of the two farms, he glanced back at the egg which no longer twisted and turned, but sat with slowly flowing violet streams of energy penetrating the ground. Much like the hum of a conduit sounded from it. Now, it seemed very calm in contrast to its earlier fit. Mumbo assumed- for obvious reasons, really- that the egg powered the farms despite the contraptions having been able to power themselves via redstone. It was captivating and he couldn’t help but to become curious about what was inside the egg that would’ve given it so much power. That or had it already been created with it. Either way, he yearned to learn more about it. It could be revolutionary and improve efficiency immensely.

Although, the event was short lived as the egg’s energy flow sputtered and dissipated, leading to the farms shutting down with it. Mumbo looked up as items began to rain over his shoulders when they fell. But, he was hardly bothered. At this moment he realized a few things.

His farms worked, thankfully; The egg held an amount of power that could power several farms; Mumbo wanted to keep the egg for even longer to experiment.

Of course, he still wanted to eventually return it but as someone who couldn’t kill anything, the egg could help him for the time being...He already had many ideas popping into his head by the second. It only made him giddy for what was to come. He ran over and scooped up the egg with an ear-to-ear grin, holding it up to his face.

“You, my friend, are one wicked egg,” he complimented. Then, he put it in his inventory and prepared to fly home. He’d clean up the mess later.

As he rocketed off to his base, he noticed his red sweatered friend sitting alone on the roof of his house. Even when Mumbo flew by, Grian didn’t wave or nod up to him or really even look at him. Piquing his curiosity, though he should just go home and avoid confrontation, he landed behind Grian and carefully stepped down the slope of the roof.

“Hey! Haven’t heard from you much today,” he greeted. Mumbo was only met with silence. “Are you okay?”

After a second, Grian twitched when he realized that someone was talking to him. He turned his head to where Mumbo crouched down next to him.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking. This is my thinking roof.”

The redstoner hummed. “Ah, don’t wear yourself out then,” he laughed.

“You should try it sometime with that empty head of yours.” The avian chuckled dryly and looked back to the setting sun, the small smile falling from his face.

“Thanks,” Mumbo replied, initially with a smile himself but found himself meeting Grian’s frown. He waited a few seconds before speaking again. Then, he tapped his fingers on the deepslate. “So...what’re you thinking about?”

“A lot, honestly. It's still the beginning of the season, I’m sure everyone is.” He waved a hand dismissively then looked at Mumbo. “What about you? Have you been thinking about anything?”

Mumbo snorted, attempting to lighten the mood. “Thinking isn’t good for me. I overthink when I do and it hurts my brain.” He paused. “But, if you’d really like to know, I’ve been thinking about the egg.”

This made Grian perk up. “What about it? Do you know where it is?”

The redstoner hesitated. Not yet, he can’t give it up just yet. “What? No, not at all. But, I had a question.”

Grian deflated, then looked away with his chin on his arms, legs tucked to his chest. “Alright, shoot.”

Mumbo’s stomach twisted. “I uh- maybe now isn’t the best time actually. You know, while it’s missing and all.” He cracked a half smile.

“Yeah, while it’s missing,” the builder scoffed. “Just ask me, I’m sure I can answer.”

“Ah- um, sure. Why...why is the egg so special to you? I understand sentimentality, but it just seemed more…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I wondered maybe- maybe it uh… did something, you know? You said it was a magical egg. Maybe you could tell me about it?”

He heard a low chuckle from Grian. “It’s just some stupid egg, it’s not magical.”

“I- oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that was disappointing for you, wasn’t it,” Grian sneered. The two stopped. Grian pulled his head up and Mumbo furrowed his brows. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Just stressed.”

Mumbo stood and tightened his jaw, ignoring the builder’s excuse. “You know, you’ve been real onto me about that egg. Why don’t you tell me about that instead or go bother Scar. Every conversation I have with you now is just accusing me of taking it.”

Grian thought back to what Aisling said, then his last thought before he came to the roof. “Because maybe I saw you sneak into my house and steal the egg. And maybe, I don’t know, it’s my stuff.” He stood and faced Mumbo with a finger to the redstoner’s chest. “And maybe it’s because you are an insanely terrible liar.”

The other was at a loss for words, opening his mouth then clamping it shut repeatedly. The tips of his ears reddened in embarrassment. Of course Grian probably saw him take it, anyone could’ve. But why didn’t he say anything before? Satisfaction? Did he want Mumbo to just admit to it?

It didn’t matter now, the jig was up and all of his plans for the egg were now down the drain.

“I- I’m sorry,” was all he could muster. “I didn’t think it was such a problem.” He looked down at his shoes. “You…have been acting differently since it was gone, I didn’t think I made you mad.”

The avian sighed in relief and put a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder. “I’m not- look at me,” Mumbo lifted his head, “I’m not mad. Really, I’m not. A little annoyed, maybe, but not mad.”

“But you just scolded me like a toddler!” The redstoner whined.

Grian laughed. “Because you have to do that when a toddler lies to you. But, I’m not angry at you, at Scar, or anyone else. I want to tell you why that egg is important, I do, but it’s not the time for that, yet.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. It was clear Mumbo had more questions but decided to avoid them. “So, where is it?”

“Ah- well, I should warn you first about something.” Grian’s eyes widened. “No, no! Nothing happened to it! But um- well, it’s not ‘just some stupid egg’, it’s one seriously powerful egg, dude. What kind of dragon did you fight?!”

“...Excuse me?”

“Yeah! It powered two of my farms at once, did this huge explosion thing with a bunch of lightning, and it was awesome, but the egg-”

Grian took a hold of Mumbo’s shoulders roughly. “Mumbo, did it do anything to you.” The builder was suddenly very serious, as if Mumbo would die if he said yes.

So, of course he lied. “No? I was well away from it.” Grian let go and crossed his arms with a raised brow. “I was! I ran away because I obviously didn’t want to die.”

The other sighed. “Good, I need it now, then.”

Mumbo pulled it from his inventory, hesitating to give it back. Then, he put it in Grian’s outstretched palm. With nothing more to say, he waved goodbye and glided back to his van. Grian watched as he did and once the van’s door slid shut, he looked down at the egg. While he inspected the egg, he noticed a new detail to its shell that made his stomach sink.

A cursive two letter initial, MJ.

[thebountyfucker]

The Two Princes - Royal AU

NSFW - 18+ ONLY

Embo x F!Reader x Cad Bane

Tags: sex party, public sex, double penetration, threesome, blowjob, handjob, overstimulation, maybe ooc but this is an AU so I don't care lol

CW: mentions of drugs, prostitution, power imbalance (the reader is a hired attendant, and both Embo and Cad are princes. Reader is not a part of either of their domains, so they have no control over her. However, I did want to include it just in case)

Here's a link to my masterpost and to the application for my taglist!

“So explain to me again what is going on?”

“There’s nothing else to say.” Your boss replied as he sorted through his collection of datapads, his fingers flicking through the stack until he found the right one. He pulled it out and thrust it in your direction. “Ya gotta sign it.”

“Sign… what?” You took the datapad into your hands and powered it on. A file appeared, one that was rather lengthy and full of legal words that you couldn’t, for the life of you, understand. You parsed through the paragraphs of Aurebesh, before pausing and glancing up. “Is this an NDA?”

“Yep.” Your boss was quick to reply, turning his stout body from you to search around his office for something else. You uneasily returned your attention to the swirling legalese, and faltered. Your boss noticed your hesitancy, and sighed. “I can tell you this - it’s the royal folk. One of them is planning some shindig, and needs you and the girls to help take care of them.”

“Is it… safe?”

“You tell me. You know them royal folk better than I do.”

You wouldn’t exactly say you knew them; one one-night stand with Prince Cad hardly seemed to count, in your opinion. Though, if this party was hosted by a royal, there was a good chance that you’d get to see him again. He’d protect you if things went wrong, right? You stared down at the datapad, and your boss huffed impatiently.

“Look, sign it or don’t. I need to know who to staff now. They aren’t the patient type.”

“Alright, alright.” You scribbled your signature down on the line and your boss snatched the datapad from your hand. He tossed it aside and waddled around from the other side of the desk, gesturing with two fingers for you to follow him.

“You and the others will caravan to The Veil, where you’ll meet the employer. Remember, none of what happens tonight can be talked about, or we’ll be sued to shit. You understand?” You nodded again at this, the uneasy sensation rising in your stomach once more. Your boss glanced over his shoulder at you, and scoffed. “They ain’t gonna eat you! Relax!”

“Easy for you, perhaps.” You muttered under your breath as you both slipped into the meeting room. About fifteen young women - your coworkers - were waiting in the room. Most seemed just as confused as you were.

“The employer has everything you’ll need. Don’t let them talk you into doing anything that isn’t in your job description, okay? You’re attendants, not whores.” Your boss drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest. The last line, specifically, caught your attention. You’re attendants, not whores. What about this job warranted that comment? He had to know more than he was letting on, and this bothered you. You supposed he, likely, had to sign a similar NDA, but at the same time, you hated going into jobs blind. Things were more likely to go wrong this way… and the royals weren’t the type you wanted to disappoint. “Get your asses moving. He’s waiting on you.”

-

The Veil was unlike anything you had ever seen before - it was a meeting hall affiliated with Azvergin Hotel - a high-end joint for billionaires and royals alike. This meeting hall was just as high-class, with high ceilings and sculpted arches and hand-carved crown moulding. Columns lined the grand hall, holding the heavy mosaic ceilings from toppling to the floor. Famous artwork was displayed along the walls. You were so caught in how awe-inspiring this hall was, you hardly noticed the room was empty. There were no tables or chairs to be seen - something you expected for a function fit for royalty.

“This way.” The grounds-keeper spoke, pulling your attention from the details of the room; it was then that you finally noticed how quiet everything was. You turned towards the groundskeeper, watching as they turned down a long hallway. You jogged after them, your coworkers following closely behind.

“Where is everything?” You asked, and the groundskeeper glanced over their shoulder at you.

“Downstairs.”

“Right…”

They turned to the left and knocked on a door; a small peephole opened, and someone from within called out.

“Who are these ladies?”

“Attendants.” The groundskeeper explained. “The prince sent for them.”

The peephole closed, and the door opened instead. The guard gestured for you to enter, which you did; you slowly descended down the flight of stairs, noting that the lighting had dimmed and that low, sultry music was playing over hidden speakers. You turned to look at your girls, the pieces of this puzzle slowly forming in your head; it wasn’t until the door opened that things finally started making sense.

The room was much smaller than the grand hall above, without the frills and displays of wealth. It was hard to tell what colors the walls and floors were, given how dark the room was compared to the hall above. Plush chairs, chaises, and even beds were dotted around the room. Men and women were already wandering around, dressed in lingerie or kink apparel. They glanced at you and your party, but didn’t say anything.

Against the wall closest to the entrance of the room was a table covered in sex toys, condoms, lube, and little flags of various colors.

You understood the NDA now; this was not your typical job. No… this was a sex party. You had been hired, by one of the royals, to attend to them while they’re likely doing dope and fucking the brains out of prostitutes. Great. This would be fun.

A door to the left of the room opened up, and out stepped Prince Embo, the tall, broad chested Kyuzan prince. He wore a loosely tied satin robe, which exposed his defined chest; tattooed across his exposed skin were dark green, blocky symbols. You could make out the facsimile of a sun printed along his collarbone, though no other shapes made sense to you. Your gaze trailed down his chest and abdomen, before noting the loose tie which held his robe shut. You wondered if he was wearing anything underneath it…

Embo cleared his throat, and you startled, your gaze ripped from the knot of his closure. Your gaze flicked up to his face, before you remember that he was royalty and some royals found eye contact with subordinates to be threatening; you briefly met his gaze, noting the amusement in his face, before you cast your gaze to the floor.

“What is this?” He inquired, looking you all over; he waded through the crowd, looking over each and every one of you personally. His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, sending shivers straight down your spine. “My attendants, yes? Come. I have uniforms for you.”

You tentatively followed him into the room he had just exited from. He started rifling through a box, paying no mind as the sixteen of you gathered around you.

“What will be our role here tonight, your majesty?”

“Attendants. As is your job title.” He answered bluntly as he pulled out enough uniforms and set them aside. “You do not have to do what you are not trained for. Just offer drinks and take care of my guests.”

“I… well… okay.” You nodded as you grabbed one of the dresses - they were short, but not too revealing. Guests would definitely be able to tell the difference between you and the entertainment, even in the dim light. You held it up to you, noting that the prince was watching you. His gaze held interest, but no ill intent; you weren’t sure why, but your stomach somersaulted and your heart skipped a beat.

“Is that a problem, miss?”

“No, your majesty.” You replied, and he stood to his full height, towering over you in a way not many others could. This, embarrassingly, sent spikes of pleasure to your cunt. If he was this tall, you knew he had a huge cock to match.

“Good. My guests shall be arriving any time now. Do not keep us waiting too long.”

He ducked out of the room, giving you ample room and privacy to change. You slipped out of your work uniform and pulled on the given dress; it was red in color, and made of silk. It clung to your body, accentuating your curves; there was something about this dress that made you feel so pretty. Most other uniforms you were given were unflattering at best and purposely ugly at the best. You appreciated the prince’s good tastes.

The others gossiped about the situation you all were in as you pulled on your shoes. You weren’t much for gossip usually, but you understood how odd this situation was.

“So the rumors of the Prince are true!”

“Who knew that a royal could have such a ravenous appetite!”

“Of course he would! Those types always get what they want.”

You chuckled as your mind wandered to your night with Cad. They weren’t entirely wrong; royals were just as fickle and just as horny as everyone else. But you couldn’t imagine Cad throwing such a party. Hell, you couldn’t even imagine him attending such a circus! Prince Embo surely was something else...

You made sure your shoes were on tightly, and slipped out the door. You wanted to get a feel for the place before the chaos began. You took note of the supplies on the table near the door, and of the bar you had somehow missed. So far, there was nothing illegal, but you weren’t certain it would stay that way.

The main floor was still only populated by prostitutes at this point, despite the Prince’s warning that guests would soon be arriving. Some were fixing their hair or make-up, and some were chatting it up with anyone around. Missing, however, was the Prince. You tried to find his towering frame in the crowd, but that was easier said than done.

A hand slid across your back to your shoulders, and you jumped in surprise. You turned, noting Prince Embo staring back at you. You lowered your gaze respectfully, and he responded by wheeling you around to face him, and gripping your chin in his free hand.

“I think I would like for you to be my personal attendant tonight.” He purred, tipping your head back so he could look at you better. His glowing gold eyes searched your soul, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in response. “Pretty thing. It is too bad you are not one of my entertainers tonight.”

His presence was engulfing, and your heart skipped a beat. His thumb brushed over your lips, and you had to stop yourself from parting your lips and accepting it into your mouth. Mindlessly, you edged closer, and the hand on your shoulder slid downward….

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A familiar voice drawled and you winced; of all the people that could have walked through the door at this time, it had to be Cad. The only royal who actively had a past with you, and the one you figured wouldn’t dare be seen at such a function. You turned away from Embo’s grasp, glancing over at an amused Cad. “Didn’t expect t’ see ya here.”

“I only hire the best.” Embo explained, sauntering over to his chair, which overlooked the rest of the room.

“Yeah. De best.” Cad smirked. There was no malice in his tone; rather, you figured this was his attempt at teasing. “Dat’s de one dat spilled wine all over yer mother’s dress."

Blood rushed to your face, and you were thankful that the lights are so dim; you had just barely forgotten about that whole mess, and now Cad had to bring it back up - to the Queen’s own son, nonetheless! You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Your self-pitying was cut short by a loud laugh from Embo; at first, you were glad that he wasn’t upset by this information. But then, you realized that he was likely laughing at you. Your mood soured, and you crossed your arms over your chest in a pout.

“So that was you? Oh, my mother raved about you for days after that.” Embo leaned back on his little throne, spreading out like he owned the place. Maybe he did.

“I… what?” You dropped your arms, confused.

“You gave her an excuse to change out of that gods-awful dress my father bought her. She wanted to hire you to ruin whatever gifts he gave her, but we had to talk her out of it.”

“Shouldn’t have.” Cad chuckled. “It would be the best job she’d ever have in her miserable little peasant life.”

“Hey now.” You frowned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Cad waved you off as he drew closer. “You wouldn’t happen t’ be available tonight?”

“She is an attendant, Cad. And mine for the night.”

“Figures. You always bag de good ones.” Cad shook his head as he stood; he looked you up and down with a licentious smirk. “I’ll see you ‘round, den.”

“Of course.”

You watched Cad retreat to settle in a nearby chair. One of the prostitutes - a handsome man - approached, sitting on the arm of the chair. Well… at least Cad was there in case things got out of hand.

Embo called to you, and you turned toward him; he gestured with his two fingers, watching with an intensity as you approached. You bowed your head when you reached the foot of his chair, and he tsked.

“None of that.” He told you. “There is no need for pleasantries here. Now… fetch me a drink.”

-

You had never been around so much sex in your entire life. Everywhere you turned, there was someone giving someone else head, or someone riding someone else’s dick. The room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, of gagging, of slicked up cunts… and the moans… oh the moans!

You edged around one of the beds -where a princess was getting gangbanged by a group of various alien men- carrying the tray of goodies to your prince. Embo was leaned back in his chair, looking surprisingly bored even as two ladies fondled his cock. You leaned down to hand him his drink, which he accepted with a grunt.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying this, my Prince.”

He just shrugged nonchalantly as he sipped at his drink. “I am not feeling particularly inspired.”

With a wave of the hand, he dismissed the two ladies, and closed his robe up. You set your tray down and knelt before him. He carded a hand through your hair, muttering something in his mother tongue. “Is there anything I can do to make this a better experience?”

He glanced over at you, his gaze lazily trailing down your form; something - which you figured was lust- sparked in his golden eyes, but he was not quick to act on his feelings. He gestured with his free hand, and you offered him some sort of smokable, which you figured was not smart given his need for a breathing mask. He lit it and slumped back in his chair.

“No. Stay your course, kamour.”

“Are you sure, my Prince? I… am offering to help you. You hired me to help, right?” You inquired, reaching out to touch his hand. He glanced over at you, and you wondered how much convincing it would take him before he realized you were serious. Not much, it turned out.

“I am no monster. Say the word and I will let you go.”

“Of course.” You settled between his parted legs, your soft hands slowly sliding up his naked thighs. What was it your boss said? Oh, that you were attendants and not whores. Well, what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

Your hands swept under his satin robe, parting it open to reveal his large cock. You wrapped your hand around the base of it, and slowly worked your way up his length. He was already hard from the ministrations of the prostitutes, the head of his cock flushed a deep and needy green. You leaned forward, gathering spit in your mouth before drooling it out onto his cock; you locked gazes with him as you spread your saliva down and around his shaft.

“Now, dat ain’t fair.” Cad’s voice startled you from your task, and you turned to spy him sitting on the arm of an unused chair. He was completely naked, with his arms crossed over his chest. “You said she was an attendant.”

“I did not lie. She is attending.” Embo put his mask back into place, and ran his hand through your hair. “She is doing her duty.”

“Yeah, well, I want in on dis.”

“That is up to her.”

You hardly even had to think - you reached for Cad, wrapping your hand around his slick, hard cock. You gave him a pump, and Cad hissed through gritted teeth in response. You gestured for him to move closer, and he did; the princes met gazes but said nothing to each other as you reached the other hand out to stroke Embo’s cock.

You stroked them both at the same time, reveling in the hisses and grunts trickling from their mouths. The way their cocks pulsed in your hands was enough to make your pussy tingle, and arousal slowly built within you. There was something depraved about this - about a lowly attendant pleasuring two powerful princes in the midst of a sex party - but the depravity only added to your pleasure. You could hardly stop yourself from grinding your needy cunt against the heel of your own foot.

“Enough of dis pussy-footin’. Are ya gonna suck me off or what?” Cad drawled, as impatient as ever; you quirked a brow as you leaned forward to give him a long, wet lick. He growled in response, his hands threading in your hair. “Come on, doll… don’t be teasin’ me now.”

“You forget that you weren’t the first man I was pleasing.” You replied, your voice wavering. You weren’t sure it was a good idea to talk back to him, especially in this position. Though, you supposed, you held the power when you held his cock. Any wayward comment and you were in a prime position to bite him. You figured he wouldn’t risk it.

Cad scoffed and you leaned away to wrap your lips around the head of Embo’s cock. He chuckled and leaned back.

“She is not lying.”

“You shut up.” Cad muttered as he pressed a hand to the back of your head, almost as if he was trying to guide you. You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest.

It went like this for a while - you’d take one into your mouth, bobbing and sucking like a good little whore, before pulling away to take the other one. You felt oddly powerful knowing you had the ability to bring these two princes to their knees with only a touch. You reveled in this power for as long as you could before Embo lifted you up and sat you on his lap. He pulled you close to his chest, purring.

“I am going in you.” He told you, giving you ample time to back out of it. When you didn’t protest, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing, and turned you to face Cad. He guided you onto his cock, and you winced as the head slipped into your drooling cunt. You hadn’t realized that he was quite this large. He gripped your hips, controlling how slowly you eased down onto him so you didn’t hurt yourself.

Cad waited until you were ready before offering his cock to your mouth once more. You parted your lips, your eyes half-lidded and darkened with lust, and he chuckled.

“Are ya cock-dumb already, doll?” He reached out to tangle his hand in your hair. “Are our cocks just dat good?”

You nodded in response to this, greedily latching around his cock and sucking hard. He let out a hiss and tugged at your hair, spurning you to start bobbing up and down his length. At the same time, you had fully engulfed Embo, sheathing his cock deep within you. Your whine was lost amongst the sloppy slurps of Cad’s cock easing in and out of your wet mouth.

Embo slowly, gingerly, eased in and out of you, taking care not to hurt you in the process. Every time he pulled his cock half out of you, you took Cad’s cock to the hilt with a gag. Every time Embo bottomed out within you, you pulled away to breathe. It was tough to find the right rhythm at first, but when you did, the pleasure was all-encompassing. Your head was spinning, arousal burning deep within the well of your stomach; your eyes rolled back and your hands went to your breasts, squeezing so tightly you were sure they’d bruise.

“Think she could take us both in there?” Cad asked, and your mind wandered at the prospect. You imagined the sensation of their cocks filling up your cunt, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The idea was fascinating, and a bit frightening. You didn’t realize that you were drooling around Cad’s cock until your spit splattered on your thigh.

Embo leaned you back against his chest, a finger probing at your cock-stuffed pussy. He slipped it inside, and your eyes went wide; Cad’s cock slipped from your mouth as the air vacated your lungs. You quivered against Embo, a pathetic little whimper escaping your lips.

“No… not unless you intend to split her in half.”

“Shame.” Cad shook his head; he pondered for a minute, before tipping your chin up. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

As if you had other plans. Embo rested his head against you shoulder, purring softly. “I would like to see your pretty face, kamour.”

“Alright.” You turned around, facing the prince; you couldn’t tell for sure, but you guessed he was smiling behind that mask of his. His large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warmth.

“Beautiful.” He slowly rocked his hips up into you again, and you whimpered. “A beautiful, sex drunk whore. You like my cock, hm?”

“Yes.” You breathed, matching his thrusts by rolling your hips; his finger slipped out of your cunt, and instead stroked your swollen, trembling clit. A fire built in your stomach, and your vision went blurry. Your orgasm was within reach! You gasped out his name, your voice strained yet velveteen. Embo’s eyes brightened at this, and he reached up to wrap a steady hand around your neck.

“Say it again. Say my name again.” He commanded, his voice husky with his own desire. You whimpered.

“Embo….”

“Again!” He rubbed at your clit faster, slamming up into you with a ferocity you had never felt before. You could hardly find the strength within you, but you couldn’t displease him.

“Embo!” You cried out, your entire body quivering as the fire of orgasm consumed you. Your head danced in the clouds as your body went limp and useless against him. He held you close, his hands dancing over your form.

“Shit, did I miss out on all de fun?”

You lifted your head and glanced over your shoulder to spy Cad with his hands on his hips. You shook your head, your tongue weighing like lead in your mouth. You gestured for him to draw closer, which he did, and you gave his now condom-clad cock a stroke.

“I do think she can take more.” Embo hummed, his hand rubbing at your thigh. You nodded in agreement at this, and Cad leaned down to nip at your neck.

“Good. Do you still want to take de both of us?”

“Yes!” You chirped, and Cad chuckled.

“So eager.” Cad maneuvered you into Embo’s chest, giving him better access to your ass. Cad lubed you up with a bottle he had grabbed from somewhere, and gently eased into you. A strangled cry escaped from somewhere within you as Cad brushed against the thin, sensitive wall separating his cock from Embo’s. You could hardly keep yourself upright, the sensations quickly overwhelming you; Embo had to keep you from falling completely limp onto his chest.

“Easy now. This is not too much for you, is it?”

You shook your head at this. “N-no.”

“‘Course it ain’t.” Cad yanked on your hair, pulling your head back enough so you could look him in the eyes. He smirked, and then sheathed himself within you. You let out a cry, and his smirk deepened into a depraved smile. “Yer a good lil’ doll. You can handle us.”

“Yes! Yes!” You whined in agreement as they both slowly rocked into you. Every inch of you was set ablaze as they took turns massaging that oh-so-sensitive wall. Cad released your hair, his hand instead sliding down to roll your nipple between two of his fingers. His other hand gripped at your hip, keeping you steady. Embo’s hand returned to your clit, pinching and rolling the overstimulated bud around until you were panting and pleading for release. Your admissions only made them hasten their paces, and soon, they were both slamming into you. Your head lolled back on your useless neck, resting squarely on Cad’s chest; your legs quivered and jerked as you chased after your second orgasm. Hands wandered, acquainting themselves with every aspect of your body; this only added fuel to the fire which threatened to consume you once more.

With only a few more thrusts, you came undone. Your vision went white as you rode waves of pure bliss, only faintly aware of how erratic their paces had become. It wasn’t until Cad lurched forward and bit you that you were pulled from your euphoria.

His fangs pierced your skin, surely drawing blood; his orgasm, contained by the condom, manifested in quick, jerky motions up into you. Slowly, he eased out of you, lapping up any blood that had trickled from the wound.

Embo found his pleasure not long after that, shooting his cum deep within you; the searing heat of his seed was unexpected, but wasn’t unpleasant. You were almost certain that if he hadn’t been wearing his mask, he probably would have bit you too. He, unlike Cad, didn’t ease out of you. He let you decide what it was you wanted to do, even if it meant keeping his soft cock in you until he hardened up again. You did, however, ease off of him to sit on his lap.

“Dat was good, doll. I might need t’ keep ya around.”

“Yes, well, you may have competition.” He leaned toward you, humming. “Though, I suppose it would be your choice.”

“Who says I have to choose?” You managed, your voice sultry. They cast glances at each other, and Cad shrugged.

“‘Spose that could work.”

Taglist!: @sat-nam-saint @that-clone-wars-girl

You leaned back into the warm chest of one of your Princes. Huh. You liked the sound of that. Who would have thought that someone like you could pull two Princes!

-

[electriclocean]

Pansy Parkinson x Female muggle! reader HC

This is my first time writing in Tumblr! English is not my first language, apologize for any grammatical errors.

Warning: my English, a few swear words 

Word count: 1.3k 

I kinda changed the timeline so it fits

- It was after the war. Pansy moved in with Draco, Blaise, and Theo in a 3 bedroom apartment in a small city near London. 

- The first week in the muggle world had been chaotic. They had a hard time adjusting. The four of them really tried to not use any magic at first, even in the apartment, but gave up after a few days. They agreed to use magic only in the apartment.

- The first few weeks were hard for them. Nightmares almost every night, they find it very hard to sleep some nights. They hardly went out, only going out to buy food or groceries.

- After 2 months not going out, Pansy was the first to start going out, she got tired of the boys bickering every time.

- She found a small coffee shop near the apartment, wondering how the hell did she not noticed it before. The place was small, but comfy. It’s not really crowded so she likes it.

- That’s where she met you. You are a part timer at the shop, working as the cashier. 

- After the third time, you were quick to remember Pansy’s order. It’s always the same order.

- “The usual, right? Hot mocha latte?”

- You saw her almost everyday after that. Pansy stayed for an hour or so. Sometimes looking around the shop (she’s looking at you), sometimes she brought a book with her.

- Thus she started making small talks with you every time she orders. A simple “how are you today?”, “how’s your day?”, “how’s your drink?”.

- The small talks turn into a new friendship, if the store isn’t really crowded, you would sit with her. Other times, you ask her to meet you after work so you two can talk more freely.

- Pansy becomes more fond of you. She tried to not fall for you, but she did anyway.

- The new feeling made her panic. “I can’t fall for her. What if she thinks I’m weird?”

- “Who thinks you’re weird?”

- Draco was the first to notice. He noticed she stopped going out and sometimes zoning out. He’s the one who heard about it.

- “There’s a girl, and I think- I think I fancy her.” “Well, what’re you waiting for? Go for it.”

- She explained many reasons why she shouldn’t fancy her. “She can’t! What will people think about dating a girl? What if she realizes that I’m not good? What if she hates me?”

- Draco didn’t listen and ended up dragging her to the coffee shop where you work. “Talk to her, for Merlin’s sake!”

- You saw Pansy coming in with someone. A boy. A handsome one, really. But you weren’t interested in the boy. After talking to Pansy, you realize that you like her, but not as a friend. 

- So when Pansy steps in with that blonde boy beside her, holding her hand, your heart shattered. Obviously she’s not interested in girls.

- “What can I get you?” Your voice was cold, very different than the usual cheery voice.

- Pansy noticed it too. After telling hers and Draco’s order, she decided to ask. “Are you alright?”

- “Fine.” “Really? You know you can talk to me, Y/N-”

- “Of course I’m not fine! The girl I like is standing in front of me with her rich looking blonde handsome boyfriend!” You cut her off without thinking. After saying it, you quickly close your mouth, cursing in your head.

- Pansy standing there, eyes wide, not really believing what she just heard. “You- you like me-?” 

- You just nod. Draco was the first to break off the silence, laughing.

- “Go on! Tell her, Pans. I am so gonna tell this to the other, the Pansy Parkinson froze like a deer caught in headlights-”

- “I like you too, Y/N. A lot actually.” She was smiling shyly, her usual confident self was nowhere to be seen. 

- After that, the two of you started dating. Pansy would wait until your shift is over.

- Pansy sleeping over your place. You teach her how to cook, or make coffee.

- The first time you saw her dark mark was when she lent you her hoodie.

- "Pans, what is that?" She tried to explain it, but ended up having a panic attack.

- You didn't want to invade her privacy, so you just help her calm down and change the topic.

- Next day, she asks you to stay over at her place, "the boys are annoying. They keep asking me to bring you."

- It's really noisy when the two of you enter the apartment. Theo was yelling curses at Draco, Draco asking Blaise for backup, while Blaise just sips his tea, watching them.

- "Merlin's beard, what the fuck is going on here?"

- "Malfoy here said I cheat! I never cheat!" "So the card just changed the color itself!?" They were playing UNO. Which was supposed to be a friendly game (lies.)

- The boys haven't noticed your presence. Theo takes out his wand, the cards in Draco's hand change colors, "revelio! See I didn't cheat! You were the one who cheated!"

- "Nott, you dumbass!" followed by Pansy' purse on Theo's head.

- That's when they realized you were there. Watching Theo use his wand.

- "Y/N this is-" "Is that real!?"

- Pansy nod, closing her eyes. Now here's the part where you will leave her because you probably think they're all crazy people or into some cult.

- "Do it again." "What?" "Please, I wanna see it," you gave them the best puppy eyes you could give.

- "You don't think we're crazy?" "Why the hell would I think that? Just do it again, please?"

- To say you were shocked was an understatement. But they didn't expect you to be this enthusiastic. You were clapping like a child, asking Theo to do more spells, while the others stared at you, shocked by your response.

- After some time, you felt someone tug your jumper. Pansy was staring at you with puppy eyes, "you won't leave me, right?"

- "Oh, darling why would I do that?" "I didn't tell you anything about this-" 

- You assure her you won’t leave her. Lots of light kisses on her face.

- The boys adored you, loving your reaction when they use magic around you. (we can talk about the boys next time, now it's pansy’ time)

- Lots of cuddles with Pansy. Watching movies together, cuddling, with a blanket draped over the two of you. Sometimes you’re the big spoon, sometimes Pansy is. 

- Good morning kisses! Pansy loves kissing your face, your nose, your eyes, your cheeks, everywhere!

- Pansy still get nightmares from the war, sometimes nightmares that you left her after knowing her past. 

- You reassure her everything is fine. You only know that there was a war in their world, but you didn’t know the details. 

- Making hot chocolates when she had a nightmare. Then cuddling again. Sometimes you sing lullabies.

- Pansy told you all about her past one night, even though you insist that you don’t need to know. 

- You hug her tightly, kissing her dark mark, “this doesn’t change anything between us. It’s all in the past, what matters is you changed into a better person now. I still and will always love you.” 

- After that, the two of you become more inseparable. 

- “Parkinson, can you not stare at me as if I’m gonna steal your girlfriend?” “Shut up Nott, go search another girl, or boy, whichever you prefer.”

- This girl spoils you rotten. Seriously. “That jumper is cute,” the next day that jumper will be yours. Dinner date every weekend. At a fancy restaurant. Pansy buying you dresses, jewelry. 

- She told you not to worry about money, since she’s the heiress of one of the sacred 28 families.  “Is it wrong to spoil your own girlfriend?” “No, but this is too expensive, you know-” “Do you not like it?” “I love it, but you shouldn’t spend too much money on me. Who knows we need it in the future.”

- Yeah, she doesn’t listen to you. Still bring you gifts, taking you to fancy dinners.

- She’s definitely top in bed. It’s obvious tbh. (I can’t write smut, I only read lol)

- Just imagine dating the Slytherin princess. (ms pansy pls date me)

[dreamties]

Slashers W/ a Soft Pastel S/O

A/n - So this one actually wasn’t requested, I just thought it would be super cute. And what I mean by “Soft Pastel”, I mean being into soft/pastel/kawaii fashion, I just didn’t know how to phrase it. Since there’s so many subcultures.

Trigger Warning: Slight Cursing (I say f*ck)

Also- these are gender neutral, but a few describe you in skirts/dresses, so if you’re not comfy with that, just skip that part or the whole thing?? :/

I might do more like this for other types of alternative fashion- like punk or something? Or a S/O who has a lot of body mods, I think it would be fun.

Characters: Billy/Stu, The Lost Boys, Helen Lyle, Daniel Robitaille/Candyman, Brahms Heelshire, and Amanda Young.

I didn’t add Michael Myers, but can do so if y’all want it. I just think he’d be very indifferent about it...didn’t think that would be very fun to read.

Billy Loomis + Stu Macher

Stu would be the most like into your outfits

Billy? Not so much. he just thinks you look cute in everything.

but if you did more guro-kawaii looks? they would both be all over that shit. 

it combines more of the grotesque in with the cute- which is just perfect for the boys. they get to see you dawned in all sorts of blood, guts/gore, bandage patterns/aesthetics.

and maybe even tying in different monster-ish elements. 

like wearing funky white or other unnatural colored contacts, really intense makeup(especially around the eyes), and fuck it, maybe you’re wearing faux demon horns.

I think they’d find it kinda hot. if we’re being perfectly honest here.

Now- would you able to get them into it as well?

Stu will ask you, with excitement reverberating throughout out his body and his voice. of course he want’s to at least try it!

so many clips in Stu’s hair. you haven’t even had that many in your hair before!

he may also wear rings sometimes. he thinks all the colors and designs are just so fun!

and on the other hand...

Billy, the guy that basically wore the same outfit for an entire movie? who’s closet only contains jeans and white t-shirts? trying out your style? i don’t think so lol

if you do- somehow- get him to try...

then you might have pressured him into it a bit? very jokingly, of course. 

“C’mon, humor me, babe. Stu’s already dressed and everything!” You try giving him puppy eyes to seal the deal.

“Fine!” Billy says, grabbing the garment and a few clips from your hands. He shuts the door too harshly behind him.

A short silence is shared, before you and Stu burst out laughing. “Do you think he’s mad at us?” You’re hardly able to get it out. Of course he was, but in his own odd way appreciated this adventure.

He comes back a moment later, his white t-shirt replaced with a pastel red one, an especially gory character printed on the front. and a red clip barely hanging on to one of the side pieces of hair in front of his face. You try to suppress a giggle at Billy’s messily put together look.

for the love of gosh- don’t actually laugh when he appears. he is very outside of his comfort zone, and he’s only doing this because he loves you and Stu, and just,, don’t add this to his list of reasons not to try new things.

whatever your reaction ends up being, you’re absolutely obligated to tell them how attractive they look in it(even Billy who looks hella dorky).

(my art)

The Lost Boys

the comparison between their dark, punk-ish style and then the sweet baby pinks and blues, and soft lavenders that adorned your form?? 

it’s just too sweet.

they are completely enamored by your style- even if certain vampires (and I’m not naming any names, but I definitely mean David) may not show his love for your look as openly

Marko- he’d get one cutesy patch for his jacket, so he has like a little piece of you everywhere he goes. also...he genuinely ended up really digging your style? but not enough to abandon his punk look completely. he is still totally dedicated to that.

the other boys will absolutely mess with him about the patch though

all in good fun!

David’s not letting you near his hair with any extra clips or accessories. 

Dwayne enjoys the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you. just sitting together, you might be styling his hair( super loose ponytail or braid- admit it, it would be so cute! and helpful so his hair isn’t always in his face!)...anyways, you’d use a colorful hair tie, and a few clips to help pin back his hair. 

he probably won’t go out with the clips in, but if it’s just the five of you at the cave? he’ll keep it in until it’s time to sleep. 

he loves seeing how happy and accomplished you look after finishing with his hair tho.

Paul is hands down the most likely to get into the whole look and go out in public with it on. 

makeup? hell yeah. it won’t be as intense as yours, and he probably only does the eyes and maybe some shine. sparkly vampire time

hair accessories? all of them

would try combining his look with yours, to have a perfect mess of it.

a light, light  blue mesh top, slightly darker blue jacket(with slight accents in pink, purple, white or black), and his usual sort of white jeans(?) would still look great with it. he’s absolutely rocking that look.

you are ecstatic to finally have someone else to share your passion with! (much harder to find similar folks when you’re a vampire,,)

Helen Lyle

she’s so used to the plain life around her, and she’d been living before you- you were such a breath of fresh air.

of course, you’re darling personality also drew her into you- but your fashion sense? it fascinated her.

she’s not trying it herself anytime soon, but she appreciates the fact that you enjoy it. 

the most she would ever try is a very natural makeup look. and a coat or two of a pastel color of her choice.

she would love watching you get ready. not so much help out though- she just likes seeing the way you approach things. how you choose to pair certain pieces with one another.

she’ll ask questions to better understand your interests! not that it’s weird or wrong that you’re into it, she’s just a very inquisitive person.

you’d wear a lot of blue though- because you know Helen likes that color.

imagine wearing coordinated looks for different events and such. so, when you go with Helen to help out with her Candyman thesis, you might wear candy-themed attire. (of course in this universe,, she wouldn’t die! so no worries of that! you get to keep you’re gf).

if you do gift her something, she keeps it on her bedside table(or dresser). so she can still admire it, and still serves a purpose. fun décor!

all around though- Helen would be very chill, but captivated, about you’re interests.

Daniel Robitaille - Candyman

 his life is so dark and gruesome, and he loves seeing you all dressed up. 

and while he’s dead- long dead- and isn’t really apart of the world in the same sense that you are- it gives him this happy sense of hope for the world.

because there’s this very small thing, that you hold close to your heart, that makes you smile.

Also!!

even if they’re apart of a super awful, traumatic, part of his past- the bees are just a part of the family now.  

so cute yellow/spring/bee themed outfits?? yes. ohh definitely, yes.

As for him dressing up? He’d feel hesitant.

he’s filled with immense joy around you, but is almost scared with someone altering part of his attire or self in any way(rooted back to, again, past stuff).

but part of loving is to take the person as a whole, bad parts, good parts- insecurities- the entire package. and trusting one another.

he has his whole faith in you not to do anything bad.

and so, it becomes a habit for the two of you to spend mornings together, chatting and getting ready. well, you’re getting ready, it’s more for the quality time together for him.

things are little different for Daniel. for many reasons. 

one, he has very short hair. so the clips don’t really work there..

two- he only has one hand, and he’s “working” a lot with the appendages he does have. rings won’t work out because they might fall off- and he’d hate to lose something of yours.

three- he’s not a big makeup fan. he’s happy enough watching you put it on.

and then for his actual attire- he needs the coat to cover his insides. it’s also, in a way, his uniform.

you’ve settled on two things.

making homemade necklaces that can easily hide under his big coat (either sweets or honey/bee themed).

and sewing little patterns on the inside of his coat. other’s wouldn’t be able to see it, but he would know it’s there.

Brahms Heelshire

imagine being super into sorta ‘sweet lolita’, pastel/soft colors, bows, the big skirts, all the sorta ruffles(?)

 and then especially if your shorter than Brahms(which is really,, not hard to do unless you’re insanely tall cause he’s,, 6 foot 3.)- and he thinks you look like such a doll? 

but like,, in a nice way. 

I think he’d get pretty excited if he got to help you set up your outfits!

especially if you praised him for picking out a good combo, or organizing correctly.

and some of Brahms movements are a bit awkward, he’s spent most of his life in the walls and the attic...but imagine turning on his music, and just dancing with him. having him twirl you in his arms a few times.

Brahms loves having your hands through his hair. and if hair accessories means he gets more of that love and attention? then yes,, yes he will wear them.

he just likes feeling taken care of, and along with your usual duties, you help him figure out the soft fashion styles, and how to make it more appealing and suitable for his own tastes.

because- as you insist- you want it to be something he enjoys just because he does, and not just for the closeness. though you can’t deny you love that aspect, too.

i can tell you one thing right here, though. you’re never getting makeup on him. he does not like taking off his mask, even if you’ve been in a relationship with him for a while, he still hides his face a lot.

you’d offered to do his makeup once, since he was staring so intently as you did yours. you’d made the mistake of reaching for his mask. you’d usually ask before doing so, but sometimes you’d slip up.

You apologize profusely, offering your arms out to him for a hug. “There, there, Brahms.” You smile, giving him a slight squeeze of affection. 

he does take your stuff sometimes. 

it’s a little annoying when you think you’ve lost your favorite accessory or dress or etc and then you just realize,, oh, it’s my favorite wall boy again. thank gosh you love him, so you’re not really upset or anything.

he just likes having little reminders of you, it gives him reassurance. upon other warm and fuzzy feelings.

if you’re able to find time in your day though, you’ll make cute little trinkets or bracelets for him. you’ll gift them or purposely leave them out for him-  so you’ll still have some of your stuff when it comes to getting ready the next day.

in short- he’d much rather look at you than partake on his own. 

Amanda Young

she’s never seen anything like this! :0

everyone she knows, herself included, tend to wear more dulled, plain clothes.

she’s immediately very intrigued by your attire...sort of want’s to try it, but is a bit self conscious and embarrassed to ask.

So!! you start out with small things, and fairly early on you both realize that she loves when you decorate her hair with accessories. 

gifting Amanda a pair of little pig clips!!

or little stud earrings- those would be fricking adorable on her!

and she’s just so happy,, wtf

you dress mostly for yourself, but the more you’re in a relationship with your gf- the more you want to dress for her as well. 

you can see this little sparkle in her eye when she sees you, and you want to keep seeing that look for as long as you can.

you slowly get her into it. your relationship and Amanda’s interest in your style just gives her so much light in an otherwise dim world.

if she did get into it, I think she’d do more creepy/cute. as a way to sort of cope with past trauma. that this sort of “bad” thing (the creepy) can still coexist with the good (the cute). she admires that quality.

just very sweet partners, who happen to love similar types of fashion 

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?” 

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...” 

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’  Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,”  Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual,  “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal.  There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly,  “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!” 

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you,  “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something  within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku,  “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a  bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if  I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior. 

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with  a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE  I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a  lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation,  “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs,  “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.  

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch.  “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped. 

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties. 

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips, 

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him. 

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you,  “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,  

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room, 

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him. 

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 2

“Would ya look who’s here,” Y/N’s heart drops and she can’t bring herself to turn around. There’s no way he’s here for a second time. “He’s wearing a white henley,” her sister leaves with hopes that her little sister gets some juicy gossip and most importantly, breaks out of her shell. A white henley was her weakness on any man but Henry, she was done for.

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

It’s been exactly one week since Henry met that funny girl at the bar. Y/N. Even her name sounded sweet. He couldn’t help but think about her legs, and how nice her ass looked, but he also couldn’t knock the thought of how shy she was and how cute her blushing mannerisms were; her fingers fiddling with the neck of the beer bottle or thumbing at the necklace she wore. Y/N just radiated something, and it was too enticing to him. Those fingers and the way her nails would feel digging into his scalp when he,”Hey, Henry,” a PA snaps him out of his daydream, “it looks like rain isn’t letting up so they’re halting until it passes. See ya tomorrow.” He nods and sends a text to his brother who is currently keeping Kal company while he’s working overseas.

H: Did Kal get a walk in today?

B/N: Took him and the kids out twice. Checking in early today. Got plans this evening?

H: I haven’t decided but probably just going out to dinner with some work mates again.

B/N: Liar.

H: What?

B/N: You’re gonna go back to that bar.

H: Hey, it was a nice bar.

B/N: It was a nice girl.

H: I can’t forget a cute face.

B/N: Alright lol be careful out there

Henry slides his phone in his pocket and heads to his car. The grey clouds bring him back to that evening on the patio once again. He was so hung up, just after a couple of hours. What’s gotten into him? His drive back to the hotel was quiet. He was trying his best to concentrate on the car, just the care and nothing else. But maybe she’d let his hand rest on her thigh while he drives. Would she hold his hand on the way back his room?

He exchanges nods with the hotel staff he passes on the way to the elevator, being him usual polite self even when exhausted.

——————————

Henry watches a small group enter the bar and to his enjoyment, she walks in with them. He excuses himself to the restroom, but his fellow crew mates know better, he’s going after her. He rolls his eyes at their snickers but lets out his own chuckle.

“Would ya look who’s here,” Y/N’s heart drops and she can’t bring herself to turn around. There’s no way he’s here for a second time. “He’s wearing a white henley,” her sister leaves with hopes that her little sister gets some juicy gossip and most importantly, breaks out of her shell. A white henley was her weakness on any man but Henry, she was done for.

“Hey there,” He looked even better than before. The Shirt.

“Hello.” She hopes he can’t hear her heart pound in her chest, “Becoming a regular, are we?”

“What can I say? I like a good cocktail,”

“Benny does know how to make on hell of a drink.” She winks at the bartender and they share a laugh.

The bartender blows her a kiss, “Anything for you, Tequila Princess,”

He raises his eyebrow and smirks, “Tequila Princess? What is it about you and tequila?” He becomes confused as Benny scoots two shot glasses in her direction.

Y/N sighs as she turns toward Henry, “Thanks, Benny,”

He glances at the small glasses, “I’m actually not a tequila guy.”

She laughs, “These are both mine.”

“Oh,” He’s adorably wide-eyed, “is this that trick your sister mentioned?”

“Yes,” Y/N holds the two glasses in front of her face, “cheers, Henry.” After placing both shot glasses in her mouth, she rest her hands on her thighs, throws her head back and gargles the liquid before swallowing. She took the drink with absolutely no grimace or chaser, no salt or limes. Her face is completely still as if it were water. “and that is the trick. It’s not exactly mind-blowing and it’s a gross sound.”

“What the hell,” He backtracks in case he offended her “I mean, how are you not positively sick right now?”

“I can’t taste it.” He throws her a look, “It doesn’t burn or anything. So, in school I told a few friends that I couldn’t taste tequila. They dared me to gargle it to prove it, and being young and stupid, I did. That’s where the Tequila Princess came from.”

“Am I entitled to use that nickname?” He’s so handsome.

“Only if you want me to walk away right this second.”

He surrenders his hands in the air, “I shall never call you Tequila Princess ever again.”

“Good,” He offers her a beer but asks for a water instead, “thank you.” Henry looks visibly tense as the bar gets a bit more crowded. She can sense it in him, he’s getting a nervous. She assumed he would be used to it.

“Hey, look, our bench is free.” He liked that, that they had a bench. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, tired, but good.” He looks into her eyes and notices that they’re a darker shade than before, “How was your week?”

She smiles sweetly, “It was great, actually. Sorry to hear that you’re tired.”

Y/N is turning Henry into a puddle of mush with her kindness, “S’alright. We actually cut it short today cause of the rain.”

Pointing at her sister and brother-in-law, “Those two almost didn’t want to come this weekend because S/N hates driving in the rain.” He admires how close she must be with S/N, and wonders if they fought like monsters as he did with his brothers when he was young, do sisters do that?

“Do they visit every weekend?”

“No, you just happened to be here when they do visit,” Something splashes and she hears a playful, ‘oops’. She looks up to find a very beautiful woman holding an empty glass and a grin you could compare to the Cheshire cat.

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin your, um, shoes.” She looks at Y/N’s boot with what seems to be distaste.

“It’s ok, we all get a little clumsy.” Y/N is not the type to be confrontational, especially when she knows people are watching, “I’ll just go get some napkins.”

Henry interjects, “Please, let me.” He gets up so quickly that the woman in the conversation can get a word in.

Her eyes follow his behind before turning back, “Listen, I don’t want to come across as a bitch, but there’s so many guys here at this bar that are on your level.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “My level?”

She clears her throat, “Yeah, like you’re super adorable but come on.” She’s younger than Y/N. She has those extra long legs and perfect eyelashes, her boobs still up to her neck.

The frustration in her chest grows as she tries not to put little miss spider legs in her place, “All I had to do was smile to get his attention. You had to interrupt us and spill your drink on my shoes.” S/N notices the glare in her sisters face, this doesn’t seem friendly at all.

She makes her way over, trying not let Y/N notice. She hears her hold her own, which isn’t surprising but she knows her anxiety can get the best of her. She almost wants to laugh at how bold this girl is. S/N knows she’s very nosy but this is her little sister, is she supposed to ignore such a situation? She peeks and sees Henry eyeing the two as well. He’s not that far away, he has to be hearing this.

Spider legs rolls her eyes, “He’s just really-“

Henry arrives with the napkins, bending down to wipe off her boot, “Really into the conversation we were having, excuse me.” He stands, turning his back to the woman before sitting down. He’s not sure who is more shocked, this rude woman or S/N as she pretends not to eavesdrop behind a topiary. “You are adorable, by the way,” He wipes her knee, even though there isn’t a trace of liquid on it, “Beautiful, really.”  The secondhand embarrassment is almost too much for Y/N to bear, why is spider legs still stand here? I feels like an hour before she finally marches off.

“That was sweet of you,” Her voice is smaller than he expected but he can see the rose tinge in her face, “thanks.”

He gives her a full smile this time, “I have a feeling things might have gotten a bit out of hand if I didn’t step in.”

She scrunches her nose, “I’m not exactly argumentative, but —”

“Not you, Darling,” Darling, “your sister his trying to hide, just there.”

Y/N watches her sister rush off from behind the plant and act like she didn’t hear a word, “Jesus, S/N.”

He was completely sure of it now. Henry was more than intrigued, he wanted every part of her, “You’re very feisty.”

“Feisty?” She’s never heard that one before.

Henry does his best to put on a feminine impersonation, “All I had to do what smile to get his attention,”

“Shut up,” She flirtatiously swats at his hand, “being shy or, like, reserved, doesn’t make you a doormat.”

Henry could grab her and kiss her right here on this bench, their bench. “Come on. Let’s get back to it,” He nudges her leg with his elbow, “what do you do? Tell me some fun facts.”

"Fun facts?” She clasps her hands, “Ok. Um, well, I’m a painter, sometimes photographer. I live in a tiny apartment with a loud neighbor. I like crime books, like to read when I can. This is not my natural hair color, and I actually don’t care for alcohol that much. People are usually surprised by my tattoos. I also have an obsession with travel sized toiletries. Hows that?”

He’s always gone for the creative type, he should’ve guessed it, “A painter with tattoos who likes to read, and likes tiny shampoo. Got it.”

“Your turn,” She takes a sip of her water, “oh, you can’t say acting because that’s too obvious.”

“Hmm, Ok, I like coffee over tea. I’m really into horror movies and gaming. I enjoy cooking but hardly get the chance. I hate running. I think people who sleep in socks are complete psychopaths. I also like to read. Like visiting home. God, I sound boring,” he laughs, “what else? Ah, I really like mornings. I like working out first time in the morning.”

“You’re not boring at all,” She smiles, “I can’t say that I like working out. I like to cycle, but that’s about it.”

He blurts out, “That explains it.” Oh no. Did he just accidentally talk about her ass?

“What?” To his horror, he has no way to recover from his remark.

He tries to change the topic, “Oh, nothing. You need another water?”

Y/N narrows her eyes, “No, explains what?”

As her sister walks by and hands Y/N a plastic cup full of lemons. She matter of factly states, “He’s talking about your ass, idiot.”

“Ohh,” This time they both blush. Henry hasn’t had cheeks this rosy since he was a boy.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He awkwardly bites his lip and tries not to die of embarrassment, “Well, um, anyway, I’m, uh,” Y/N looks up at the sky and jumps as she gets a chill. He watches her tear into a lemon wedge, “Are you just eating lemons?”

“I like sour things,” Her eyes squint, as if she’s expecting something.

He tries to see what she’s seeing, “What are we looking at?”

“It feels like it’s gonna rain again.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I think we’re ok,” He watches her eat another wedge, “do you two have some sort of lemon ESP?”

“Of course, we’re sisters. I didn’t check the weather but it definitely seems like it’s gonna rain storm.” She scrunches her nose again, he takes note that it must be a habit of hers.

“I hope not, I like sitting out her with you.” Henry listens to her go one about how her and her sister have always just ‘got’ each other, more so than others with their own siblings. She has a best friend, B/F/N, that she has a very similar relationship with. They share stories of their teen years and the dreaded mishaps that are the early twenties. Henry, with beer in his mustache, says, “I should’ve grabbed more napkins,” he wipes his mouth, letting Y/N see the time on his watch. She grabs his wrist to get a better look, but doesn’t state the time. He looks, “Oh, it’s almost 3 hours since I got here,” He checks his phone to see that his fellow co-workers let him know they were headed back to the hotel. It’s just him now.

She opens her mouth to speak but a large rain drop hits her forehead, making her go a little cross eyed, “Well, would ya look at that?”

“I’m sure it’s just a little bit of sprinkling.” Theres a sudden crack of thunder and the sky lights up, welcoming an instant downpour.

He makes sure Y/N gets back inside first, wishing he had a jacket to cover her with, “I told you it was gonna rain.” He absentmindedly tries to cover her head with his left arm, but he was too late. Her hair has fallen victim to the chilly October rain, as has Henry’s clothing.

She can’t help but look at his body, just like the rest of the women in the bar, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just a little cold,” She wants to tell him that his shirt is sticking to him, making him look like a greek god. That god damned henley.

Henry awkwardly shifts, pulling his shirt from his skin, “It is kind of cold, isn’t it?”

S/N arrives and he knows this is his last chance with Y/N, “We’re gonna go back to the hotel before it gets bad out here. Johnny said he’d stay, if you want to stay.” S/N Looks at Henry and back her Y/N, wanting her to take a chance.

“No, I’ll come,” She looks at him, hoping to God her mascara didn’t run too much, “Well, um, I’m going to go before it get worse but it was wonderful seeing you,” She touches his arm only for a few seconds, “maybe I’ll run into you again.”

“Hopefully,” He watches her leave, thanking whoever invented the stationary bike, but already missing the conversation. Her icy fingers gave him goosebumps of his own, but he welcomed it. They were soft and he liked her sparkly nail polish. It reminded him of a hot wheels truck that his nephew gave him. He loved how cozy she looked and, shit, Henry didn’t give her his number. He forgot twice. He thinks to himself, “What the fuck is the matter with me?”

[Note: Please excuse any writing mistakes. Thanks for reading 💕 ]

[missmonsters2]

About You || Part V

Gif by: giuliacommissions (please check her out if you’d like to commission her for gifs and other work 💞)

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: Wanda had never known loss like she has until she lost Pietro. It’s debilitating. She can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t even leave her house. Life is fading fast, and she’s not sure if she even wants to hang on. Enter you, a stranger that reconnects her to the daily things that makes life beautiful.

Warnings: Deals with loss & grief and the spectrum of emotions and depression that comes with it. Please note there is no glorification in any of this. Loss, grief, and depression are nothing beautiful. Also, please don’t hesitate or reach out for help if you are in a dark place. Love you, lovelies 💘

Genre: Angst & Romance

NOTE: The chapters are weirdly either going to be too short or too long LOL Please drop a comment if you’d like to be part of the tag list! 😚

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

PART V of X

Count: 1892

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"Why did you bring them here?" Wanda hissed while Steve sheepishly shrugged.

"We wanted to meet her!" Clint exclaims as he bustles through with Bucky, who calmly walks through with a slight smile towards Wanda.

Bucky, she can understand being with Steve and all, but Clint?

While she loved Clint too, he had a knack for putting his nose in places that it doesn't belong in.

"Wanda, who's at the--oh, hello," you smile a little sheepishly because you've got some flour on your cheek, and you're in an apron. You run your fingers through your hair, grinning when you notice Steve.

"Hi, I'm Clint, and that's Bucky!" Clint is shaking your hand excitedly while Wanda is scowling at him. 

"So, how did you meet--" Clint is cut off abruptly when Wanda walks past him.

"I'm hungry," Wanda says as she passed you into the kitchen. You don't really have the time to answer Clint's question, so you nod your head after Wanda.

"Why don't you all stay for dinner? I think I might've made too much for just Wanda and me, anyways," You walk back to the kitchen to finish cooking and baking. 

Wanda is sitting at the table, frowning at Clint while he merely smiles charmingly at her. 

"She's pretty," Clint comments quietly enough so only everyone at the table will hear.

Wanda frowns more deeply.

"You two seem compatible," Clint comments further, and Wanda doesn't know how to take it.

"We probably don't have anything in common," Wanda whispers consciously back.

The talking stops as you bring the food out to the table, settling a beautiful golden brown peach cobbler on the table. 

"Oh," Clint eyes the dessert with a twinkle in his eye, "Wanda's got you making peach cobbler, huh?"

It's such a weird comment, Wanda thinks. She thinks that Clint should've also just said that it was Wanda's favorite, but it's not like he knows that Wanda hasn't told you that it's her favorite.

You hum, scrunching your brows. "No, I just like peach cobbler, it's my favorite."

And for the rest of the dinner, Wanda can't avoid Clint's teasing and sparkling eyes because he's noticing that she's eating every single bite.

Everyone's buzzing around her, talking about the change you've brought to Wanda when no one has been able to for a year.

And for a moment, there's a pressure hanging over Wanda not to slip.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

A month and a half. 

Time passes by, and it feels like things have and haven't changed.

The cut on your hand has long since healed, but Wanda can't help but notice its faint scar every day.

They're currently eating on the couch, opting to stray from the dining table as they watch TV together.

You have the volume lower because you love eating together. It may be the only time that Wanda says what she's thinking. 

"What do you do for a living?" Wanda blurts out because it occurs to her even after all this time, she doesn't know anything about you. 

You turn to her and smile at her outburst.

"I'm a pediatric psychologist," you tell her, "I own my own practice, but I have my business partner running the show while I'm on leave."

Wanda's quiet for a moment, a little tense, and you give her a reassuring smile.

"Relax," you tell her, "you're not my patient, and I'm not constantly psychoanalyzing you. We're just...friends."

And while Wanda says nothing about the friends comment, she does lower her shoulders. She tries to think about you working with children, and Wanda sees you being a wonderful psychologist.

But then you're looking at the TV again, and the silent stretches and Wanda blurts things out without thinking, "Your family must be proud."

"I don't have a family," you say, looking at the TV a moment longer before looking at Wanda.

A small chuckle leaves your lips, "Well, I suppose I shouldn't say that. I did have a brother, but when my parents died when I was 8, he was only 18 and decided he couldn't take care of me and left me at an orphanage. Unfortunately, at that age, no one really wants to adopt you."

And while you explain it nonchalantly as if to convey to Wanda to not worry about it, she bites down on her tongue as her own voice comes back to dig at her.

"Do you have a brother or sister who loved you, would do anything for you?"

God, she had been so fucking callous.

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"You look good. Healthy. Not skeleton-y," Natasha comments as she cuts some apples up for Wanda. 

Wanda only hums, stirring the spoon around her bowl of food that you had left her before going. Natasha came shortly after, unplanned and unannounced as always.

"Where is she, by the way?" Natasha asks as she looks around but doesn't find you.

"Shopping," Wanda answers. The words are short and contrite, and Natasha could tell that Wanda was glad for your absence, but she didn't know the guilt and shame that came along with it. 

Natasha makes a sound in reply, cleaning the knife that cut the apples when Wanda blurted out, "Have you--Is there a way to apologize to someone without saying it?"

Natasha tries to hold her grin but can't hide her snort.

"Why? Did you have a fight with her?" Natasha asks.

"No," Wanda says immediately, eyes shifting to the side, "I just...might have said something I shouldn't have."

"Hm," Natasha hums, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. "And it's too hard for you to actually just say you're sorry?"

"A little," Wanda thinks about her pride.

"How do you expect her to know you're sorry then?"

"That's why I'm asking you."

Natasha merely snorts again and stands up straight.

"You know," Natasha starts, "Steve texted me that he's caught the two of you holding hands while sleeping a few times now."

"That's--" Wanda blushes, rushing to explain, but she really has no explanation.

"Whatever the reason is," Natasha cuts her off, "I'm just saying it's probably really straining for her to be holding your hand while on the ground."

"We're not--" Wanda tries again, but Natasha blows her off.

"I mean, if you were on the same level, it would probably be easier to do whatever you're doing."

Natasha doesn't say anything else and lets Wanda mull over her words, still stirring her food around.

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"Hey," You breathlessly say, "I got that candy you wanted. They didn't have the family-sized, so I just got you a couple bags."

"Thanks," Wanda says as she sits at the kitchen island, wringing her shirt a little nervously.

"Oh, did Natasha come by?" You asked as you looked at the cut apples. "She always cuts the apples the best way. It looks like a bunny!"

"Mhm," Wanda hums, the words clawing at the back of her throat.

She coughs, clearing her throat and grabbing your attention.

"About yesterday..."

You smiled kindly at her, taking pity on how hard Wanda was trying right now.

"It's really fine, Wanda. It's all in the past. I hardly even remember it, and everything turned for fine for me in the end, see?" You twirl around for her to exaggerate what you said, giving her a brighter smile as you start to put the groceries away.

But Wanda calls your name again. 

It's really bothering her.

You turn back to look at her with curious eyes while Wanda knaws on her lips.

"He was a coward to not try for you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, have you thought about maybe painting again?" You ask, helping Wanda shift through all the requests she's gotten over the years, sorting by the most prominent requesters.

It had been a year since Wanda even picked up a paintbrush because every time she had previously, the colors would quickly turn black, splattered over the canvas before Wanda would puncture holes through it with her brush.

All alone, the inspiration had long left her, crumbling beneath her until nothing held her footing.

But these days, Wanda would get a glimpse of a color or an image in her mind, but her fingers would only twitch at the urge.

Because if she paints, it would be the same as admitting that you were helping her, and that left her at risk of losing again.

And she was only at risk of losing again because you would inch your way past all her barriers, and having a piece of her heart.

A piece that Wanda has no control over.

Wanda doesn't say anything to the question, just stares at the blank canvas that she hasn't ruined.

"You shouldn't hold back," you tell her, "I'll be here for you."

"For now," Wanda grumbles faster than she can hold it, but it opens her up to you.

"I'll always be here for you."

"You can't promise that!" Wanda hisses at you before biting her tongue and remaining silent because she doesn't want to say anything that she'll regret later on again.

It's silent for a moment, and Wanda freezes up the moment she feels you touching her hand, and yanks it away on instinct. She regrets it immediately, though, when Wanda sees you recoil back with an apologetic look on your face.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me."

The apology is completely sincere and falls off your tongue so easily, and Wanda is crumbling underneath in guilt.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You tell Wanda goodnight and go to the couch without waiting for her to respond back to it.

Wanda lies silently in her bed, looking at the ceiling. 

The hand holding always came sometime in the middle of the night, first when you heard her having a nightmare, and then came regardless after you thought she was asleep. 

But tonight, you don't come. It's in consideration for Wanda that you don't, she knows, but it makes her want to scream. 

It's absolutely petrifying to be open with someone, be willing to take steps towards them. It left you susceptible to pain, and Wanda's done very well at not experiencing more pain. 

On the one hand, Wanda did not want to get hurt again, but on the other, she was not willing to give up the hand holding.

Natasha's words come back into her head.

"I mean, if you were on the same level, it would probably be easier to do whatever you're doing."

Her heart thumps as she gets up, her blanket falling to the floor as she steps out the door, walking across into the living room to the couch.

You're still awake.

"Are you okay?"

No, Wanda decides, she's not fucking okay.

And even though Wanda is the one to lift your blanket up, she's the one who feels exposed as she forces her way to lie next to your body on the couch.

She uses the blanket and grips it to cover her shoulder. She's as tense as a rock, and her eyes are fraught with nervousness. She miraculously tenses even more when you put your arms over her, gently messaging her neck.

And Wanda stays like that until she becomes a soft puddle in your arms. Her forehead is pressed against your chin, and her eyes are screwed shut as she opens her mouth in a raspy whisper.

"I'm sorry."

PART VI

[chaotictommy]

Okay sooooooo I don’t know if this is good, lol, I have no clue about any of my own writing. But anyway, I finished my small Jimmy and Tommy oneshot, which, now reading through could be taken as them just being friends or if you want to dive down that rabbit hole, could be taken as more...

I don’t know... I have doubts about my own writing, so if it’s bad, I apologize XD

but here it is.....

fanfic warning: major character death... :(

A Little Piece of Home

The first time he finds Tommy wearing one of his sweaters, a blue grey one that was Jimmy’s dad’s, his friend is sitting back and eating a sandwich while crumbs hit the wool, Jimmy nearly gets annoyed at his friend, settling for a mix of confusion and hesitation, because his best friend has no care of other people’s possessions, is anything but gentle, and doesn’t think before he takes something that doesn’t belong to him, maybe it’s because they’re close, but Jimmy doesn’t notice him taking things from others like that. Maybe it’s because they are like brothers. It used to annoy the hell out of him. Now it leaves Jimmy smiling, a bittersweet smile tinged with a little melancholy, at the memory.

“You’ll ruin it,” “Says who?” It’s a teasing smirk, the one Tommy knows gets him every time, annoys him to no end, that one that makes him smile despite himself, the one that disconcerts him, because he doesn’t know if Tommy is serious or teasing, and Jimmy wants to dwell in certainties, it’s problematic without them, but his best friend lives on uncertainty and adrenaline alone, and pulls Jimmy into it too.

He fixes his glasses, squinting over them at Tommy before replacing them and giving a shrug “Just... just take it off before you ruin it... it’s cashmere...” he sees the look on his friend’s face and shrugs “No idea, some type of wool I think, anyway, it’s expensive and you’ll stretch it out,” he gets a remark, half sarcastic and half teasing him for liking sweaters that much, for not trusting him enough, he knows Tommy’s joking and he can’t help but smile and reply, even though he’s trying not to “Oh, I’m sorry but tell me again how I wasn’t the one guy who tried to flirt with a gal and got a milkshake in the face when her football player boyfriend walked back over? It stained your shirt Tommy, Let’s just face it man, you should come with a warning sign, a label of some sort, you’re a disaster zone, and I am definitely not letting you steal my clothes...” but it happens again because Tommy never gives up and it’d be a strange day if he ever stopped fighting about — basically everything.

The second time he just gives up. Obviously Tommy isn’t going to listen, or had forgot, Jimmy really hopes it is the latter, but he knows this is a battle he’s not going to win, and not sure he wants to fight, so he compromises, feeling somehow as if it’s a custody battle in a divorce, since they’re sharing time with the sweater, Jimmy getting it half the time with Tommy taking the rest. It should annoy him, and on the outside he pretends it does, but inside, it really doesn’t bother him at all, honestly, he’s happy that Tommy’s happy.

The third time he finds Tommy hoarding one of his sweaters, a tan one with light colors in the classic pattern, and he just laughs with annoyance, running a fry through mayonnaise as they sit down at their current meeting place (and honestly this is going to be a recurring thing for them, meeting at the Diner, the milkshakes are to die for, the meatloaf could be better, the burgers are great, and the service is lacking at times, but the booths have high walls, which is a added win for Jimmy, so Tommy can be a bit too loud, like he always is, because let’s face it, Tommy has no idea what an ‘inside voice’ is, Jimmy’s had to face that fact more times than he’d like to admit). Jimmy fixes his eyes on his friend and looks at him questioningly “I’ve been trying to find that sweater for months.” He frowns and shakes his head, sighing long and trying to make Tommy get that he is — not okay with this “Don’t you have your own? Don’t you have any clothes of your own?” His friend turns with a look, as if he’s been caught, usually looking like that even if he’s done nothing wrong at all, barely thinking before he answers “Yes, no, maybe, I like yours better,” Jimmy raises an eyebrow in confusion “What’s that even supposed to mean? You’re being too cryptic, I’m not up for riddles,” he laughs and cringes when his friend grabs for the ketchup, nearly spilling over the table and the sweater, his sweater, the sweater he’s been looking for for about a month now, just popping up right in front of him when he’s not thinking about it, now being worn by his best friend, one disaster away from being ruined. He’s seriously worried for the safety of that sweater. “You’re messy,” he says, hand instinctively tugging Tommy’s wrist away from over the mustard, pretending to be disgruntled “Honestly Tommy, you’re a complete mess of a person,” “But you still love me?” They both laugh till it hurts, and Tommy pays the bill. He tells Jimmy it’s because they’re brothers, because it feels like home wearing something that makes him think of family. Jimmy doesn’t get it. Later, he will.

He remembers giving him one of his favorite sweaters, wrapped up in leftover green wrapping paper (green was Tommy’s favorite color), a Grey sweater with a greenish blue argyle pattern, folded into it. It became a sweater Tommy couldn’t stop wearing and a present that Jimmy was proud to give, he values their friendship and everything that entails. Yeah, Tommy’s loud and kinda — crazy, crazy in the good sense of the word, and Jimmy’s quieter, locked in on his thoughts, calmer, like the sides of Ying and Yang, and it’s those complementing opposites that Jimmy wouldn’t change. They’re friends and sharing things is just what happens right? It earns Jimmy the comment that he ‘looks like a nerd now’ as Tommy pulls the sweater on, but they both know that it’s a great present that Tommy values.

Jimmy gets a couple of books, loving how thoughtful that gift was as well. He still has them, now his kids are reading from those same copies. It’s nice to remember that. Now that...

The time wore on and one after the other, he lost touch with Dutch, with Bobby, and with Johnny, but he somehow managed to keep Tommy, to stay friends even though miles separated them, college, family. He was there from the start and to the very end. Tommy was his best man at his wedding, when he was so nervous that Tommy had to talk him back from complete panic, his ever present fears of being inadequate, not enough. Tommy had been there, and Jimmy had been there throughout Tommy’s struggle, he’d been the second to know when fighting wasn’t an option anymore... they’d tried to make peace with it, but nobody ever tells you how hard it would be...

When Tommy died, everything felt disjointed, disconnected, everything stopped then and there as the paramedics rushed by, knowing it was over even though his brain was screaming it wasn’t true. THAT IT COULDN’T BE TRUE. But it was. But nothing seemed to make any sense anymore. Nothing fit.

The breaths he took then seemed foreign as if Tommy had taken everything, even the breath in his lungs, with him, the breaths were strangled and meek, mixed with pain, he had been ready for it, yes, but nobody was ever prepared, not even when they said they were. Jimmy knew that now.

Now, going through Tommy’s things, in his empty home, his hand brushed against something in the bottom of the box. It was soft, even though years had passed, worn at the edges and the elbows, from Tommy always leaning on them, into his friend’s personal space, talking way too close in excited tones, appreciative, teasing. Jimmy knew what it was before he saw it, and the fresh wave of tears hit him, mixed emotions in them now, the lingering sadness and joy, relief somehow there as well. He hadn’t cried that much in front of Johnny, neither had he cried much in front of Bobby, they had felt like strangers somehow... now he felt himself breaking down. The tears were long overdue.

So he sat there, with a sweater and a lot of memories.

Other people would see a worn sweater that has seen better days, just like the brunette man now holding it, but to Jimmy, this sweater is much more than a bunch of knotted yarn, a castoff to some thrift store because of the wear and tear

It’s the sweater his best friend wore when he needed to keep warm during the colder months, or when they went camping, the one he’d hardly take off because Jimmy had gifted it to him, and he said that it meant everything, the one that wrapped Jimmy in tight hugs he’d pretend to struggle out from, pretending to dislike them, but secretly loving them. It was something that would always remind him of Tommy.

It was a little piece of home. Something now missing from his life, having gone suddenly with his friend.

He’d always have Tommy with him even though he wasn’t there anymore

They’ll always be best friends. Nothing will ever change it.

It’s only a sweater, but to him, it’s a part of home, as much so as the the family he’s made, the house he lives in now, and Tommy, who left a heart shaped hole when he — left.

It’s something that reminds him of every moment with his best friend. That’s all he has now, those moments. He knows someday he’ll forget the playful smirk, the annoying laugh that was both and infectious.

But for now he has those moments and something, however insignificant it is to others, to remind him of the better times.

And that’s everything.

Author’s note: Okay, so the sweater that Jimmy gifted to Tommy is the one you can see him wearing in the first scene of TKK2

It’s grey and has a greenish blue argyle pattern.

the books Tommy gave Jimmy were:

The Outsiders (I always connect the Cobras to the book lol)

Fahrenheit 451

1984

and

A collection of Sci-fi stories by Ray Bradbury

Because I think Jimmy would love Sci-fi

I truly hoped you liked the story and if it was terrible lol, again my apologies

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hijan”

This is all my brain wanted to write today, so you guys are gonna have to take this trip with me lol. Those of you who liked the language will probably like this, and if you don’t, don’t worry. Translation is provided. 

The stone underneath my feet is hot and hard, The rays of the sun are blistering, and the metal sticks I keep getting clobbered over the head with hurt…. A lot

Yeah, surprise surprise, I got myself into the Drev clan. Turns out that I don’t exactly speak as well as I thought I did, so it took more than a little convincing to get their clan leader to allow me in. Luckily he knew of me at the very least and decided it would be an interesting experiment to see how tough humans really are. 

Honestly, I think it was an excuse to watch the clan children beat the snot out of me.

I mean to be fair to myself, I am pretty sure I could win in a fight if the situation called for it, but come on these are kids, I can’t hit them.

Why am I fighting kids you ask?

Well because I am about as tall as the kids. With Drev growing anywhere from seven to ten feet tall, you can imagine that their kids are rather monstrous. These little beasts are about as tall as I am and way more vicious. And when I say vicious, I mean vicious. 

Their clan leader seems amused at my pain.

This guy is called the Lodnajasta which roughly translates to “the one who watches” or something like that. Sunny calls them Sentinels. Drev clans are made up of a couple inner hierarchies . Their religious leader, their military leader, and a council of elder clan members who give their opinions on stuff.

They didn’t seem to pleased on me being here, but the Sentinel seemed to want to settle something once and for all.

It seems as if he was being proven right.

I hit the ground hard shoulder smarting and roll to the side as the little cretin charges after me. This one is bright neon green, and he seems intent on taking my head off. He might succeed too. As he charges me, I see a potential opening to hit him, but at the last moment I pull my punch. I can’t just hit the kid.

He doesn't have the same qualms, and I get plowed into the ground with a shoulder check.

Volcanic rock grates under my arms and knees as I hit the ground.

��Tizhitan, Tanana.” The sentinel says crouching just outside the circle to mock me.

He’s been saying that all day, which means it’s a word I learned pretty fast: shameful. 

Tanana is my new nickname apparently, means alien.

Either that or Kazga, which I have determined is actually some kind of curse word along the same lines as moron, but with connotations more along the line of rude words a human may used to describe someone as mentally disabled. It is a pretty serious insult, and he only uses it on me when I have been a real idiot.

“Nizish, Tanana ,ee zheengish.” Stand up and fight

I slowly crawl to my feet hurting, “I can’t fight them, they’re kids.”

“dazhit .”

He’s insulting me again.

Pretty sure that one is like calling me a bitch, though it probably has some other unknown meaning.

“Look. I’m sorry but where I am from we don’t hit kids.”

He looks amused. The kids don’t understand what I am saying, but I can hear them jeering at my back with words like dazhit, tanana and Kazga. I don’t know where their parents are, but I would consider washing their mouths out with soap.

“Juhkee tsa zhe tehish zheengat.”

I pretty sure I heard the words fight me in there.

I would argue with him, but I dug myself into this hole. I should have just shut up and clobbered the kid in the head, but no, instead i opted to get my ass beat.

“Yid.” I respond a bit sullenly, and with chirps of glee, the children gather around the circle as their leader sets down his spear and steps inside.

“Tsa zhalish tahajeea.” I say pointing to his armor. Hardly seems far that I don’t even get a shirt, or shoes for that matter. It was a fight just to keep my pants especially when he pointed out that they don’t wear clothing.

I never considered that until now, and somehow it made things weird. 

He was naked except for armor, and I was only wearing pants, and with him towering over me I became suddenly aware of how tall he was, about nine feet tall if anyone is asking, which made him about three feet taller than yours truly. 

As much time as I spend with sunny, sometimes I forget how big drev are supposed to be even considering that her brother is absolutely monstrous.

He just grins at me, or at least the Drev version of a grin.

You can see it mostly in their eyes, a sort of grim malevolence that lets you know they have no trouble beating the shit out of you.

excellent .

I have to crane my neck back to look up at him.

“Aleshash!” 

It took me a moment to figure out what the word meant, and by the time I had figured it out, the fight was already over.

He hit me so hard I felt a rib crack, and that was before I went sprawling across the dirt and out of the circle coming to rest at the feet of the young Drev face down in the moss gasping for air and unable to breathe through the pain.

The children chirped/ laughed whatever you call it.

I hurt.

I feel the sentinel’s shadow fall over me as he kneels down at my side, “ tsa dzhalal neh dakish zheengat, dit tsa dzhalakak tazheengish.”  You are not ready to fight drev, so you will fight children.

I groan ribs burning.

The children continue to laugh and the sentinel walks off.

The kids trail behind him.

I lay on the dirt with my face in the moss and wish that I had just decided to stay home. Things had been rough for me lately, but I am beginning to wonder why I thought it was a good idea to come out here and make my life harder.

Sunny had told me about her past, how she was treated for being small, how she was considered to be a cripple and a liability to her clan.

Now here i was an actual cripple and a real liability.

What did I think I was doing? 

“Tsa jirhash?”

I turn my head looking up to find the face of a very, very old drev. I can tell she is old because the color of her carapace. It darkens as the Drev age, and hers was almost brown, leaning towards black/ She is bent over, lost at least two feet of height, but still she stands with some measure of dignity.

I blink at her.

“Ya hurt?” She asks 

I am taken aback a bit surprised to hear english coming form the mouth of a drev. I knew it was possible for them to produce some of our sounds, but sunny and I had never tried./

“I uh…. Zha neh rekazi/”

She looks me over with a critical eye, and before I can do much of anything, she reaches out and just, picks me up, like I weigh nothing, like she would hold a child. To be fair, even as stooped as she is, she’s about nine feet tall, which makes me think she would have been much taller in her youth.

I wince against the pain as she carries me away.

The sun is beginning to set and the sky has become a bright shade of pink. The rest of the clan has either gone inside though a few of the adults remain speaking and conversing with each other towards the head of the village.

She carries me in the opposite direction to a small hut on the outskirts of the village. She has to duck through the door, but once inside there is enough room.

She sets me down at the far end where the moss is thick.

The hut has a pleasant smell, though I cannot describe what it is.

I grit my teeth past the pain as I slowly sit up.

“Lod tsa?” I ask. I think I remember seeing her during that first meeting, but I don’t remember who she is. 

“Zha Hijan” 

I frown in confusion Hijan means beautiful or colorful so…. Oh wait, drev often use adjectives as names. Like sunny or noble.

I forgot.

“Tsaee tsa lanish zha?” 

“Tsaee tsa zha lanish/” She corrects. Oh I forget they have a different sentence structure.

“Uh… Yeah, why are you helping me?” i repeat 

“Dzhalka lana gingazh.” Something…. Need help

I frown.

Dzhalka, wait, doesn’t that mean baby or small child.

“Hold on, I am not a child.” 

She gives me a knowing look, “Tsa jee.” You’re not?

“No. I’m not. On my planet I am a fully grown adult human. Look I honestly do thank you for helping me with the hospitality and all. But I think you might be confused.”

Her eyes scrunch together in the way that Drev have when they smile, “ tsa tsatse jekish.” 

“Trying to find myself? Why would you think that?”

“Tsa dadzhatatal najish ee daeen dahajish. Kaan dzhalka lod dazha neh rekazash.”

I shook my head in confusion, “I left home…. Only children don’t know who they are….” I’m confused.

“tsa Tsatse neh rekazish.”

“I know who I am ok, I just…. I needed to get out for a while and figure myself out….” I paused 

She smiled 

I sighed.

Well I had really put my foot in my mouth on that one. She walked over and handed me a piece of the pink orb fruit, and I took it gratefully and bit into it. It was sweet, so I assumed it was ripe. It made my mouth hurt with how sweet it was.

The old Drev moved about the hut doing various tasks and clicking at me when I tried to get up.

At one point she even pointed a spear in my direction making it pretty clear that I was to stay down.

I did as told resting back against the moss. 

So it looks like I had been adopted by an old drev granny named Hijan who was under the impression I was her new child….

That was 

unexpected .

But I supposed I could roll with this.

It was nice to have a place to stay.

I fell asleep sometime later woken up during the night only to find her asleep to my right curled up in the way a mother might while letting her child rest. One of her hands rested very close to my back.

Ok weird, but….. Comforting 

And I had no trouble falling asleep for the rest of the night. 

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 3

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1….You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online– or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly–I created the title art–LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go…

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies– or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair– you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 4200

Part Three: Delmar Hospitality

        Antha slowly raised her hands in surrender. It was the best she could do in this unforeseeable situation. Beads of sweat rolled down her chest and back. The searing chill sobered her instantly. “We—we—” She found her mouth desert-dry and unable to form a coherent sentence.

        “Well, are you trespassing or are you lost?” The silken voice demanded.

        “We’re—we’re lost.” Antha panted. A light tumble sounded in the wooded brush as Tessa’s mouth fell open with a gasp, only her teeth could be seen. She fainted.

        “Oh.” The voice sighed. Before Antha understood what was happening long cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought her up to stand. “Here.” Those same fingers handed her the gun. She violently shook, her nails impulsively tapping against the metal of the barrel.

        The clouds shifted intermittently, splashing eerie washes of light across the blackness. Long, ethereal white arms appeared out of the dark as the stranger pushed up his sleeves. These bodiless limbs wrapped about Tessa. Am I watching Fantasia? Antha thought—it didn’t even occur to her that she was now armed and could defend them, though she was hardly capable in her muddled state. She stepped back to see him lift her unconscious sister.

        The moonlight poured over something akin to a roman statue come-to-life, with a long column neck and limbs. It frightened Antha to see this otherworldly man peer down from his full height—his great silver-colored eyes burning amidst the night. Despite logic, she had the distinct feeling that he could see more of her than she could of him. “I presume you’ve spoken to the police?” He asked calmly.

        She patted her legs instinctually and realized her sundress had no pockets. Somewhere far, far away her cellphone was nestled in her messenger bag, in the back of Tessa’s car. She shook her head ‘no’ as she was still at a loss for words. “Well, come along then,” replied the stranger. His accent was clean; obviously he wasn’t born of this slower-lower side of the world but seemingly mimicked their colloquialisms.

        Like a white knight he led Antha from darkness and into a comfortably lit yard in the middle of the woods. The well-kept grass stretched in front of them toward a darling little house. There were candle lights in every dormer window, a white-slatted porch with rocking chairs and a sign that said “No Vacancy” to greet them. The stranger turned, “Welcome to Hollow House,” he stated neutrally, not exactly instilling hospitality. Antha clutched the gun in her arms, scanning her surroundings when she could manage to tear her eyes from him.

        Tessa looked like a beloved ragdoll, her long braids swinging peacefully with every step. The stranger held her tenderly as if an appendage of himself, her head cradled to his chest. Why couldn’t I have fainted? Why am I always the one to sort everything out? Antha thought. He carried her with ease up the porch steps and hesitated. He hovered over Tessa’s face for a moment as if he was going to plant a magical kiss that would awaken her from slumber. Then he turned to Antha, brows knitting together for a brief moment.

        “You’re twins.” He chuckled to himself as if something about that was charming. “Would you please?” He motioned to the screen door. She stood frozen in place as if the simple instruction was too much to fathom. “Antha,” he crooned, “when I take you inside, I will lay your sister down, get you cleaned up, and then we will call the authorities. I will help you sort everything out in no time.”

        Thick waves of auburn hair tucked behind his ears and one errant curl falling in his eye line drew her in. His excellent hair aside, he seemed normal enough. Given the monsters she encountered thus far, the normalcy of the house and this stranger were beyond comforting. Additionally, the fact that he held Tessa to his chest made him simply irresistible to deny.

        She shook as she reached for the screen door and held it for him, then he swooped Tessa over the threshold into a lovely foyer. A lean spindle-legged table held brochures for Hollow House Bed and Breakfast. The simple cottage layout and plate of cookies at the door all confirmed for her that she was in fact standing in a bed and breakfast. She followed slowly and watched as he laid her sister down in the Hibiscus Room, right off the foyer and overlooking the back patio. The peach tapestries, brick fireplace, and mahogany wooden furniture framed Tessa, making her nothing short of a sleeping beauty with her mane cascading across the crisp pillows.

        Antha paced backward as he turned to her, leaving the guest room door cracked open. “I assure you she is fine. How about we set this down?” He carefully approached her to take the gun but she clenched it as if she suddenly couldn’t imagine parting with it.

        She didn’t like how he filled up the foyer, frame blocking the dim ceiling light the way an oak tree does the sun. “I’m very sorry about how I approached you before. I heard you two stomping through my woods—and you alarmed me.” He said coolly, not an ounce of excitement in his eyes or face, not even a flush in his cheeks. “Tell me what happened.” When he asked she strangely felt beholden to him. She couldn’t help feeling that he was reading her mind—she knew that was a stupid thought—but something about the way those big eyes held her in place.

        “There was a fight, and, and Tessa ran and so I chased after her—we fell and you found us.” She spilled all of the highlights as if she were reading a teleprompter. The prying feeling lessened when he broke eye contact.

        “I see. Well, please come sit down, allow me to help.” His voice dripping like honey down the back of a spoon. He went to the small dining room off the foyer, pulled out a chair and politely beckoned her to sit. She wagered the risk for a moment but ultimately leaned the gun against the table—within reach—when she accepted the offered seat.

        Feeling naked without the weapon, she held herself as he explained he would bring water. He did everything he said he would and within seconds she found herself staring bewildered into a glass of tap water. Antha felt more at ease when he finally removed the gun from the table and promised to put it away. The kitchen was right off the dining room and she listened as he retreated to the phone, setting the gun down. “…two young women—yes, here at Hollow House. Yes, this is Mr. Smith… Mmm-hmm… No one is harmed. Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”

        Antha heard the click of the landline phone being holstered and thought about how long it had been since she had heard such a noise. Since her grandmother’s house she supposed. Her eyes continued their investigation as she waited. Trying to remind herself that she was just on-guard from the hellish night Tessa had put her through.

        The cottage was fine, everything in place. A fruit bowl on display, frills on every corner, the carpet vacuumed. He did everything he said he would, she reminded herself again as she sat on her shaking hands. She was fine. They would wait for the police. They would be fine, she convinced herself.

        He returned to the table with a plate and towel in hand. The plate was placed in front of her and then he bent with a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. For a moment Antha found herself quite overwhelmed, quaking in her seat, the adrenaline threatening to keep her on the run until her heart gave out.

        “I believe your story checks out Miss Antha,” he said humorously, “the police said that there was an awful scuffle at the bar out by the road. Once they’re done cleaning that up, they will come to get you two.”

        “Mr. Smith, how did you know my name?” She asked, just over-hearing his from the phone call.

“I could hear you calling to each other.” He explained. “You two created quite the ruckus out there.” He was leaning closer than Antha would have preferred. She never recalled Tessa calling out for her. She also didn’t think she told him about the bar either—stop being stupid Antha, the police told him about the bar, obviously, she chastised herself, her paranoia getting the better of her.

        After pulling the twigs from her braids, wiping the dirt from her forehead and neck he bent to one knee to clean her hands. She sipped her water and stared down at him. His hair was a bit longer than how most men would wear it now, wing-tipped behind his ears and lending to the romance of an Edwardian fashion. The long bridge of his nose and well-placed lips made him truly worth staring at, like the classical paintings in her textbooks.  When he wrapped the cloth over one of her palms his nostrils flared. “That’s a nasty scrape.”

        Antha didn’t realize she was bleeding from when she caught herself on the pavement of the parking lot. Before he sat, she observed his dark button-down shirt partially tucked into slacks; his musculature was not consistent with his occupation. This guy works out for serving cookies and delivering extra pillows, she thought and continued sipping her water. Those great nocturnal eyes never left her, even as he reached toward a bowl on the table, his eyes stayed with her.

        “Here, you must be starved,” he showed his hand to reveal a whole pomegranate. Before she could deny the fruit he tore it open between his large hands. The leathery skin shredded apart as the sanguine juice dotted his pale fingers, the table, and the plate in front of her. Antha could hear herself swallow as the little massacre happened right before her eyes. “Eat, Persephone, and never be released from my palace.” He laughed.

        “I know that myth,” she forced a scoff despite how anxious she felt. She was compelled to be still, attempting to plan her next moves. She wasn’t sure if she was still out of fear or if he was willing her to sit. There was this scratching at the back of her mind again, like a dog at the backdoor, relentlessly trying to get into her subconscious.

        “I had a feeling you would.” He replied knowingly. He leant into his palm on the table, as if fearing she would be too far from him. His offering seemed forced as if he had just read a beginner’s manual of cordiality. Nothing felt organic or friendly. Everything is fine, was what she thought, but something in her gut told her, but not safe. As if an ocean could not quench her thirst Antha finished the water and jolted upward from her seat.

        “I need more water,” she stated blatantly and made her way to the kitchen before he could offer. She felt she could breathe for a moment without those curious gray orbs on her. The kitchen was outdated, but appeared older due to the orange cast of the overhead fan light ticking away, struggling to cool the space. She clutched the sink as if it was her last anchor to the earth. Her eyes kept shooting upward to the dark window in front of her. All she could see was her reflection and the open doorway to the dining room behind her; she was trying to watch her back, making sure nothing suddenly moved.

        While the tap poured foggy water into her glass her eye caught a picture on the counter with a little old white-haired man and woman, their wrinkles holding their sunglasses in place, with Rehoboth Beach in the backdrop. “When are the cops coming?” She called weakly, trying to appear conversational and unsuspecting.

        “Realistically tomorrow morning, not long from now.” His voice carried. He was still at the dining table. Good, stay there, she thought.

        “Oh, we couldn’t trouble you for that long!” Her voice broke against her will, unsure why panic was suddenly rendering her immobile, holding white-knuckled to the sink. Why was there an empty room for Tessa? The sign said ‘no vacancy’.

        Staring at the picture, she saw it said The Smiths 2016. The water was streaming over her hand, overflowing from the already full cup. Her eyes found the reflection of the gun leant up against the ancient landline phone on the wall in the window; it wasn’t the phone itself that made the blood drain from her face, it was the severed phone line dangling from the receiver like a noose. Her heart plunged into her stomach as she pieced together the clues—they were in very real danger.

        “I insist you stay,” the rich-timbered-inflection was too close, and cold breath trickled down the back of Antha’s neck. There was no reflection of the man behind her in the window, all she could see was the terror on her face.

        Glass shards and water exploded against the sink as her hand lost her cup. Her feet left the ground as she found herself turned, and lifted to the counter, her back against the cabinetry. “There’s no possible way we can stay—you see—I, I have misplaced my wallet!” She stammered, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I’m positive we can agree on an alternate arrangement.” He wedged himself between her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, his nails growing and sinking into her lower back like meat hooks. She had never seen someone so malevolent and beautiful in equal measure as he loomed over her mouth.

        “—Please, I must take my sister home—” she begged, not knowing what was to come. “I can’t leave her—we have to go home!” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull away from the stranger, but found herself latched to him with nowhere to run. His hands held strong as his lips reached the shell of her ear.

        “I wouldn’t dream of separating a pair—she will follow you shortly.” He promised. “Stay.” He told her as if commanding her soul. She found herself unable to fight, her muscles waning as if under a spell. The cold of his cheek dragged across hers as he pulled back to look over her face, his feral irises dilating, impersonal and hungry. His grin displayed a mouth-full of pearly teeth as he sunk to the floor and splayed open Antha’s legs. He hummed gluttonously when he kissed the inside of her knee. His canine teeth grew outward, revealing pristine fangs the closer he drew to her apex. This isn’t real—what is he doing? Her mind raced, her fingers searching blindly on the counter for aid. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and Antha mustered the last of her will to kick him in the face before she could find out.

        She launched herself from the counter clumsily as the stranger recoiled, her muscles waking up from their enchantment. After snapping his broken nose back into place, he caught a second wind and lunged for her neck. Instinctively, her wrapped hand shoved the stray piece of glass from her broken water cup into the corner of his mouth. He leant against the counter, retracted his fangs and smiled through it, as if he had been pleasantly surprised.

        She snatched the gun as she darted to a nearby door in the kitchen. Her hands frantically locking the door and then searching for a light. Rickety wooden stairs bowed under her feet as she followed carefully forward, her gun-hand sliding down a railing and the other on its mission for a light switch. She could hear him groan as he pulled forth the glass and the blood spilled to the linoleum floor. “Antha, darling,” that same penetrating voice hummed above her as he gathered his bearings, “stay and fight me off—I do so enjoy this.” She could hear him gagging and spitting—she could only hope the glass shard spliced his gums.

        Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, her hand found what it had been seeking. She flipped the light switch on to find one lone dangling bulb above her. For the third time of evening, Antha’s feet left the earth and she toppled over a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs. She saw nothing to defend her, no place to hide. When she scooted back from the heap, she saw fuzzy white tufts. To her horror she recognized old Mr. Smith crumpled atop other bodies, their throats and wrists torn out, blood pooling across the floor.

        Antha covered her mouth to stop from screaming. Her tear ducts working hysterically as she distanced herself from the carnage. How did I end up here? This can’t be happening! The cautious twin thought to herself, why me? The rattle of the door knob broke through her shock as the perpetrator tried to gain access to the basement. The foundation shook as he began ramming himself into the basement door—BAM—BAM—BAM—the door and frame failing under his inhuman force, the wood splintering and the drywall crackling.

        Searching again for anything to save her, as if she was swarmed in answers that her brain could not comprehend in its panic—Antha finally noticed a cellar door. Rushing to it, she undid the inside latch and pushed upward to get out. She could hear the basement door explode, the skittle-like bounce of nails and screws as it finally gave way under his might. Throwing the door back down she jammed the handle with a nearby shim.

        Scrambling through the backyard she hid behind a tree, knowing that it was only a temporary delay for him. The stranger was much too keen for her to outrun she guessed, she definitely couldn’t fight him—perhaps hiding would give her a moment to develop an escape path back to Tessa, an element of surprise—or anything—against him. Antha’s pulse hammering, the vein in her neck thick like an anaconda as the adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked the gun blindly, praying she did it right—worst case scenario she was going to go out swinging the damn thing. How will I get to Tessa?

        Antha pressed her back into the large tree, her gun readied. Trickles of blood ran hot down her legs from his vicious claw marks. She tried to control her breath, but his fury found the cellar doors faster than she wanted. The slamming began again until one of the cellar door’s peaked upward, his elbow bending it as if mere tinfoil. Seconds later the door flew into the yard, mangled.

        “I imagined Tessa to be the runner!” He laughed as he emerged from the ground, taking his time. “Antha, come back to me.” His voice fell into a low growl as he scanned the yard. Her hands shook with resentful readiness.

        Then there was silence, abrupt and oppressive. Her ears strained but could not hear his panther like steps. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would aid her hearing—but she was met with complete nothingness. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and the faint hiss of her exhale trumpeted amongst the stifling stillness. It must have given her away as the lean, wiry fingers found her throat and ripped her up from the ground like a dandelion.

        She shoved the gun tip to his chest, ready to take out his heart. But to her unfathomable dread, the gun failed her. The dead click of an ammo less shotgun became nothing more than a toy prop in her dire moment. She did what she could to wield it like a bat, but was unsuccessful as he caught it and crushed it in his other hand. Suffocating in his grip she tried to break free.

        “You’re insufferable,” he sneered, his mouth growing its tissue back and reconstructing the damage he endured moments prior. “Did you think I would leave it loaded?” His bright steely eyes scouring over her struggling frame. “As enjoyable as this was, our time is unfortunately over. I will make you a promise.” He pulled in closer, “I will take my time with Tessa.”

        Without cue a wet, meaty sound cut through the woods. The stranger gasped, full of horror and rage as he reached to his chest. A fire iron pierced through from his back. His eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. Antha pushed out of his grasp when he lurched forward to the ground. She was on the brink of unconsciousness as she wheezed for breath. She found Tessa was the great impaler. “I’m—not done with—you foolish girls…” He hissed like a deflating tire, his immortal sinews collapsing like a bowl of spaghetti dumped onto the lawn.

        Tessa skirted the rapid decay and pulled Antha into her arms. Stock-still they watched. They bared witness as he writhed, his porcelain skin dripped with taffy-like stretch and slid off his bones. He melted into a puddle, with nothing recognizable left except lumps of clothing and two silver eyes. Tessa reached toward the eyes, but her sister stopped her.

        All that could be heard was their panting and the fizzle of a creature dissolved. They looked to each other, wordless and beyond repair. After a moment or two they drug themselves around the side of the house and toward the driveway. Hearts still punching against their ribcages, the girls numbly followed the long-wooded drive.

        When they finally made it to the main road they found the next street lamp was another mile off. All that could be heard was the rustle of the surrounding crops. They followed the road back toward the light of civilization. Antha couldn’t shake the horror of the Smith’s being slaughtered by that thing. She shivered again, feeling the stranger’s eyes on her. She tried to push the thought down. It’s dead, she thought.

After sometime Tessa began to speak, “I woke up and saw a little old lady on the side of the bed. Her neck was covered in strawberry jam,” she paused strangely, “but I knew it wasn’t jam Ant.” She whined.

        “I know, I know.” Antha stopped to soothe her. Tessa buried her head into her sister’s neck and they held strong for barely a moment before weeping. Antha had never been so relieved to have her sister. She couldn’t believe Tessa was the one to save them. From now on she would abandon her role as the babysitter. All of her safe-keeping and methodical avoidance of danger had failed them both. It was Tessa’s wild heart that saved them.

        “I couldn’t believe you kicked him in the face.”

        “You saw that?”

        “I almost lost my shit—hey, what was he doing down there?” Tessa finally asked.

        “The femoral artery is—well and when you factor in gravity—” Antha’s analytical side kicked in but then quickly dissipated from the stress. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She finally sighed, unable to comprehend the fact that she was almost drained by her crotch. Both of them smirked but within a breath were crying again.

        “I’m so tired.” Tessa grumbled and then called for Zoey three times, wishing she would appear to take them home.

“Doug… Doug… Doug…” Antha whispered to herself.

        Just as they thought the night would never end and their blood-stained clothes would never dry, they heard the familiar wheeze of Doug’s old Buick.

        After a deluge of crying, embracing, and the erratic retelling of the whole evening, the twins found themselves buckled in the backseat on their way to the emergency room. Tessa finally sighed when Doug stopped looking at them in his rear-view mirror. He must have mumbled to himself “…vampires?” at least a dozen times as he drove. She sidled into Antha, holding her hand with an iron-clad grip and closed her eyes. Antha couldn’t relax. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she grew uncomfortable under the weight of her sister’s weary head. Something blunt was stabbing into her backside and she shifted in her seat.

        The bright lights of the emergency room entrance burned the teary-eyed passengers. Doug pulled up and jumped out of his car, opening the door for them. “What the hell is in this car—you got rocks back here?” Antha sassed him about cleaning his Buick as she dug out the troublesome object in her seat. Tessa did the same, unbuckling herself and wriggled in discomfort.

        “I just vacuumed, like last year,” he defended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the commotion of the two digging around and shuffling old coke-a-cola bottles and vintage DVDs, they suddenly ceased. A strange silence fell between them. “What is going on back here?” He stared anxiously at them.

Each twin opened a hand to find one silvery, gleaming eye.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart​ @confusednerd09​