#I hadn't gotten anything with her before and this was an appeal

[silvertsundere]

Dao and a rose by evi! ❤️🌹

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FIVE

previous chapters | kofi | i'm honestly amazed that i actually completed this chapter today; as a lot of yall know i've been dealing with a lot of shitty life stuff lately and part of me expected this to not even get posted this month. and yet!! here we are. thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and amazing, this chapter is for you and i hope you like it 💖 chapter summary: you're starting to feel a bit insecure about your relationship with joel. perhaps a late night visit to his house is what you need 👀 rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, handjobs, comeplay word count: 9k (woops) ao3

The rest of the week goes by gruelingly slow. Joel is busy every day and has barely any time to talk, so you mainly communicate through texts. The "conversations" are slow and broken, Joel only able to text when he has a free moment, which doesn't seem to be very often. You don't talk on the phone again, as much as you want to hear his voice, and you don't sext again either. It's a bit weird, a bit confusing, but you navigate it as best you can. It's not like he's ignoring you, he always responds, but it's just not the same as that first day.

you still wanna do this, right?

You type it around midnight on Thursday, hands trembling a bit as you hover over the send button. In one way you're afraid to ask him, afraid to seem clingy or young or inexperienced; but you're all of those things. When he's actually talking to you directly there's no fear, no question about what he wants, but going so long without hearing his voice makes you more and more insecure about what exactly he's thinking.

You erase the first message and start to type another one:

i know you're busy but

You shake your head and erase that one too. This is so stupid. Of course he still wants you, you idiot.

He'd said he was okay with the lie you'd told, had even said he would actually teach you guitar now too, but you're an overthinker, always have been. You can't help but feel dread whirling around in the pit of your stomach; he wants to end it, it's too complicated now. You've turned something sexy and fun into something ridiculous and unnecessary.

You lock your phone without sending anything and roll around in bed a bit, trying to sleep. Your thoughts make it impossible though, nagging at the front of your mind worse than your parents. You sit up and slide the tip of your thumb into your mouth, biting down in thought and staring at the blank screen of your phone.

What if you just...

are you home?

He hadn't sent you anything earlier to confirm he'd gotten back; you've discovered over the past few days that contractors really like to drink after their shift. Joel's been at the bar every night since that first day, often 'til late; you have to admit, it makes you a bit jealous to imagine Joel and his contracting crew out having a great time while you're laying in your childhood bed with a curfew. Bar hopping and partying has never appealed to you before, at least not when your college friends did it, but now the thought of it doesn't seem so bad. Not if you were doing it with him...

Your phone buzzes and you feel excitement burst through you at his reply:

Got in about 10 minutes ago, didn't think you'd be up. You okay?

You soften at his concern, cheeks warming. You don't hesitate, knowing if you think too much about it you'll end up changing your mind. You type your your response and hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

can i come over?

You stare at the screen with bated breath, watching as his typing bubble appears. It takes barely any time at all for him to reply:

Of course you can. Door's unlocked.

--

Sneaking out of your house is much easier than you thought it'd be. You've never done it before, had almost expected the bottom half of your house to suddenly have some kind of security system with lasers and cameras, but nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You're wearing one of your old nightdresses, pink and frilly; you'd opted to start wearing them again the other day, liking the way they made you feel, accentuating your legs and breasts like your old Sunday school dress. You'd changed quickly every morning before going downstairs to save your parents from the heart attacks they'd have seeing you with so little skin coverage. But there's no need to change now, not with where you're going. You yank on a jacket and sneakers and carefully open and close the front door, scurrying out into the cool night air.

Joel's house isn't far, just a street over. You try not to run, as much as you want to; you know you'll end up all sweaty and messy haired - the opposite of how you'd like to portray yourself tonight, but your skin is practically glowing with anticipation. You hold the short hem of your nightdress down as you speed walk through the dark suburban streets of your neighborhood.

Your heart starts pounding when his house comes into view; the living room window is dimly lit. You jog up the front steps and take a deep breath before turning the handle, smiling to yourself when it opens easily; he'd really left the door unlocked for you.

"Mr. Miller?" you call in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and turning the lock.

He emerges from the living room and you feel your eyes widen. All he's wearing is a pair of loose fitting plaid pajama pants; nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and probably no underwear. You swallow, eyes trailing up and down the naked solidness of his chest, the greying hair smattered along the skin. He's got a softness to him, a bit of a pudgy belly that makes you want to smile, but his rugged sexiness is even more apparent. His strong pecs, freckled arms, the hair trailing down his stomach and into his pajama pants... it suddenly leaves you unable to breathe or form a coherent thought.

"There's my girl," he says, voice low and husky; he must have talked a lot today, called people's names, ordered them around, "C'mere."

Your brain is still muddled and awestruck as you feel yourself rush forward, arms immediately wrapping around his bare torso. His skin is softer than you'd thought it'd be, warm under your touch as you carefully press your cheek to his chest. You feel the scratch of hair against your skin, reminding you of his age; fifty six. The thought gives you an ache between your legs.

He holds you close and rubs your back, presses a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, fingers splaying across the wide span of his back. You find yourself able to breathe again, but all you inhale is his scent, fresh and masculine. It's then that you realize his skin is slightly damp, peppered here and there with little droplets of water.

"I just got out of the shower," he says quietly, answering your unspoken question, "Was about to get in bed when you texted but I figured if you were comin' over I should clean myself up a bit."

You hum against his chest, still not sure exactly what to say. The ache between your legs is growing stronger the more you stand here in his embrace; somehow you hadn't expected to feel this way just from hugging him, although you probably should have guessed.

"I wanna get in your bed," you say softly, opening your eyes again and pulling back to look at him. His expression says it all, eyes going dark as they fall to your lips.

"Then let's get in my bed," he murmurs, just as quiet.

--

The last time you were in Joel's bedroom there'd been more of a sense of urgency, when he'd sat with you in his lap on the edge of his bed and held you open in front of the mirror. Now things are much slower, more quiet. You slip in behind him and unzip your jacket, taking it off and hanging it carefully on the hook behind his door.

"That's pretty," he says behind you, and you feel him reach out to gently touch the pink material, hand ghosting the bare skin of your chest. Your breath hitches and he smiles, "Tiny little thing, isn't it?"

"I've had it for a long time, I thought you might like it."

"I do," he pulls you toward him, then reaches his hands up to thumb the thin straps of the nightdress. You watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pushes them off your shoulders, "I'm gonna take it off though, that okay?"

Your brow furrows; he notices your reaction and his hands freeze, "Not okay?" he asks, confused slightly.

"N-no, it's okay," you say quickly, "I just... I'm still a little self conscious."

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head, "You have nothin' to be self conscious about, sweetheart," he reassures you, "I wanna see you..." he pushes the straps down your shoulders and you stand there trembling slightly as he pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to him, "There you are."

You shiver a bit under his gaze, but not out of discomfort or fear. You feel safe with him; you know he'd never do anything you didn't consent to. You're just not exactly sure what you want, what exactly you've really come here for. Before you'd left the house you'd been so afraid that he was losing interest, already getting tired of you; now he stares at you like you're some kind of rare gem, making you feel bashful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I wanna touch you," you whisper, the shakiness of your voice betraying your nervousness - or anticipation.

His hands freeze for a few seconds but he regains composure quickly, tugging the dress down further until it's cascading down your legs, putting you completely on display. He swallows audibly, taking you in. You look at his face and feel yourself pulse under his gaze, the way he's staring directly at your bare pussy.

"Let's get in bed," he murmurs, "I think there's a few things we can touch."

His words send a buzzing warmth through your body and you cross your legs unconsciously, an action that makes him smirk. You turn away from him with heat flooding your cheeks as you climb into his bed; it's large and comfortable, but you already know neither of you will be taking advantage of the big space. You sit up against his headboard and pull the duvet up over yourself, hiding your breasts from view - as if he hasn't already seen them.

"I'll keep these on" he says softly, tugging at the band of his pajama pants, "Don't worry."

Your heart leaps to your throat and you nod quickly - probably too quickly. It's not that you're scared to see him naked; you've already seen both halves now and that's taken away a lot of the fear, but the concept of being in bed together, both naked... you're not sure you're ready yet. And you're glad he understands that without you having to say it out loud.

You watch as he climbs into bed and positions himself up against the headboard like you, scooches in next to you so your sides are touching. His skin against yours is unlike anything you've felt with him up until this point; he's so warm, a firm and large presence at your side that immediately has you feeling intimidated. Your nerves are already beginning to set alight just by having him so close. You open your mouth to speak but are unable to say anything when he inches even closer, his bare waist pressing firmly against yours.

"Hey, you're okay," he breathes, reaching up to gently thumb your cheek in a calming motion, brow furrowing slightly, "You don't gotta be nervous, sweetheart, it's only me."

"I'm not nervous," you whisper back, and while you're not exactly being honest there's certainly something else you're feeling, "I'm just..." you cross your legs again under the duvet, "I'm getting really wet."

He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat that makes you smile a little, cheeks burning under his gaze. He reaches over and slowly pushes the blankets down from your loose grip, exposing you to him once again. He moves his hand down, fingertips trailing along your bare chest until carefully bringing one of your breasts into his palm and squeezing gently.

"You don't gotta hide these from me, darlin'," he murmurs, thumb dragging across your nipple, sending tingles throughout your body, "They're too pretty to stay outta sight."

You shiver when he carefully tweaks your nipple between his fingers, his gaze firmly set on his movements. You watch together as he plays with it, toys with it, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. The warm and tight feeling sends an odd tingling sensation from your breast to your pussy, like they're connected somehow.

"I'm gonna put this in my mouth," he says softly, "Suck on it a little bit, that okay?"

You can't help but feel a bit unsure, biting your lip, "Is that... does it feel good to do that?"

He nods up at you, thumbing your nipple again slowly, "Feels really good, I promise. You got a lot of nerves here, just like your pussy. Really sensitive."

Your eyes are hazy as you nod to him slowly, "Th-that sounds nice."

At your words he leans his head down and brings your nipple into his mouth, dropping his fingers and replacing his thumb with the warm suction of his lips. You gasp out in surprise, hand coming up to immediately cup the back of his head.

You've never felt anything like this; the suction of his mouth is so new and strange, that tingling sensation returning as you cross your legs tighter and whimper aloud as he sucks your nipple. His tongue is wet and warm, tracing the shape of you in little circles, while his free hand comes up to squeeze your other breast, tweak it with his fingers. Your breath begins to come out raggedly, brow furrowing and legs tightening together as he suckles.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself whimper, hand tightening in his hair, "Why does that feel so good?"

He pulls off your nipple with a quiet laugh, peering up at you, "Yeah, you like the way that feels, babygirl?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and trying to get your breath back, "Yes," you whisper, "A lot."

He smiles at that, "Then how 'bout you lay back for me?"

It's an offer that's impossible to refuse. You quickly pull yourself down from the headboard and slip beneath the covers, head coming to rest on one of his pillows. He slips under as well, then very slowly positions himself on top of you, a leg on either side of your trembling form. You look up at him with wide eyes, unsure whether you're more nervous or excited.

"You're okay," he reassures you again, inching downward a bit and pressing a few gentle kisses to your neck, "Gotta be on top to do this right, so it feels good."

You nod slowly, "I c-can feel..."

"What?" he whispers, "What do you feel?"

Your arms are loose at your sides and Joel's are pinned above you, but there's an unmistakable feeling of something prodding into your thigh, large and thick.

"Your cock," you manage to whisper, voice trembling, "I think."

"That's right," he murmurs, "It's 'cause I'm gettin' hard from suckin' you like that, touchin' you," he trails his fingers down your sides gently, making you shiver, "You like feelin' it there?"

You feel yourself slowly nodding, eyes going even more hazy and hooded, "I wanna touch it."

"I know you do," he whispers, "I want you to touch it too, sweetheart. But I'm gonna play with you a little longer," he leans his face down and licks a small stripe against your other nipple, making your hips buck, "Then I'll teach you how to touch it, that alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, "Please."

"You like when I play with you, don't you?" he murmurs against your breast, then captures your other nipple in his mouth and starts to suck.

"Y-yes," you repeat, hand coming up again to tangle in his hair, already overwhelmed by the sensation, "I missed it."

He hums, sending another cascade of tingles throughout your body. To think that less than half an hour ago you were laying in bed wondering if he still wanted you; now you're naked and he's on top of you with his mouth on your breast. How is this your life?

"What did'ya miss?" he pulls off for barely a few seconds, scruff scratching perfectly against your sensitive skin, "Tell me, babygirl, wanna know what you've been thinkin' about."

You whimper when he goes back to suckling, your fingers threading through his greying curls. It's hard to get your thoughts straight when he's making you feel like this, every tight suck and wet lick going directly to your aching core.

"J-just missed you touching me," you breathe, voice rough and wanton with pleasure, "Missed your hands on me, your fingers..."

At your words he carefully brings one of his hands downward, caressing your body gently as he goes. Your breath hitches when he swipes his middle and index finger down your wet seam, urging you to open up for him. You uncross your trembling legs, looking down to watch as he continues to suck on your breast while his fingers dip down to your wetness.

"Inside," you whisper, finishing your thought but almost giving him a command at the same time; he doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing both fingers past your entrance and slipping them inside your throbbing hole, "Fuck," you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, "Like that."

You can feel the head of his cock through his pajama pants, pulsing against your thigh, leaving a sticky spot in the fabric. The fact that he's getting hard just by doing this to you, getting wet in his own way, it just turns you on even more.

He pulls off your breast with a wet pop and tilts his head up to look at you, pressing little kisses around your nipple and then pulling himself up a bit to hover over you. You feel his clothed cock prod your lower belly and you shiver again.

"Wanted to be full again, huh?" he murmurs, eyes dark, "Missed havin' these big fingers inside you?"

You nod and tug at his curls, urging him to lean his face down toward you. He takes the hint immediately, smirking a bit before reaching down to press his lips to yours and kiss you hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, contentment and arousal flooding through you as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moves from his hair to cup his jaw, loving the feeling of his beard beneath your fingers.

"Wanna know what I missed?" he asks against your lips, voice deep and breathy, "Missed this tiny little hole, so tight, all for me," at his words he curls the tips of his fingers inside of you, making you emit a loud whimper that makes him grin, "That's right, takin' my fingers so well, angel. Bet you could take three now," you feel another one of his fingers prod you alongside his others, "You want that, babygirl? Want three of those big fingers?"

You swallow nervously but slowly nod, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "Wanna be full."

"Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You hear the sounds you're making but you're not quite sure where they're coming from or how you're making them; you sound pathetic and breathless as he fucks you with his fingers, teases the third at your hole and leans down to kiss you again. His tongue slips past your lips and you feel the vibration of your own moans in his mouth when his thumb gently teases your clit.

"There you go, angel," he mutters against your lips as his third finger breaches your entrance, slowly pushes past the other two, "Thaaat's it, babygirl."

You tremble underneath him, feeling your body tense up at the new intrusion. You've had three of your own fingers inside yourself, but not three of his, long and thick and so much bigger than your own. You hear your whimpers turn into cries as his fingers fill you up, your own hands coming up to grip his back, nails digging into the skin.

"Shhh," he soothes, trailing more kisses along your face in an attempt to relax you, "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." And you are okay, being underneath him like this, being entirely at his mercy as he pushes your limits, helps you discover something new. It burns a bit, stretches and pulls and stings, but he talks you through it, whispers reassuring words in your ear, and you know you're safe.

He stills once all three fingers are deep inside, then pulls himself up a bit to look at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear and peering down with a soft expression despite the depraved circumstances.

"How's that feel?" he whispers, voice gentle and soothing, "Tell me."

You're still making whimpering noises, shaky and quiet, but you're able to reply with the only word you can bring to the front of your mind: "Full."

He smiles down at you, brushes his nose against yours, "You did so good, angel," he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours, "I'm prouda you."

He knows what he's doing with that phrase; immediately you feel yourself loosen beneath him, hands going slightly limp against his back. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and slowly begins to move his fingers again, pumping them in and out at an even pace.

It's amazing. It's so different than just two fingers, so much bigger and fuller - you've never felt anything like it; something so dirty but somehow passionate and warm. He kisses you as he fucks you with them, hovering over you with his hot skin emanating onto yours, wisps of hair from his chest and stomach tickling you everywhere. He thumbs your clit again and you moan loudly against his lips, your orgasm swelling in your belly as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

"You gonna come, angel?" he asks you softly, sweetly, pulling back a bit to stare deeply into your wide eyes, "Yeah, you're gonna come on those big fingers, huh? Can feel your pussy gettin' all tight around me, she wants it so bad doesn't she?"

You moan even louder as you frantically nod, "Yes, gonna come, gonna come," you cry out, overwhelmed by the thickness of his fingers and the way he's looking at you, the way he's talking to you; everything is just him.

"That's right, give it to me, sweet girl," he urges you, plunging into you faster and faster as his thumb rotates mercilessly against your clit, "Make a mess for me, soak those fingers, there you go."

You keen, high and borderline ridiculous as you stiffen beneath him and begin to shake, pitiful sounds escaping your mouth as you come. He fucks you through it, watching your face every step of the way and not stopping his movements until you've come down completely. You lay beneath him, chest heaving and eyes closing involuntarily as he strokes your thigh tenderly, reassuringly. He keeps his fingers lodged deep inside of you, not moving but simply keeping you full as you come down from your orgasm; you find yourself hoping he doesn't pull them out just yet.

"Can I show you somethin'?" he asks softly, and you open your eyes to find him still peering down at your face. You can't speak, can only nod as you bite down on your lip and try to catch your breath, your entire brain focused solely on the way his fingers feel inside you. As if he can read your mind, he's suddenly pulling them out and bringing them up to hover between the two of you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, suddenly feeling beyond empty as you pout up at him. He just chuckles to himself, still holding his three fingers - wet and glistening - in front of you while his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his pajama pants. Your eyes go wide, lips parting a bit as you look from his face to where his hand is and back again.

Without words from either of you, he slowly reaches inside and pulls out his cock, thick and dripping. You make a weird sound in the back of your throat, sitting up slightly as you peer at it with wonder. He's showed it to you before, it's nothing new, and yet...

"That's about the same width, wouldn't you say?" he asks you quietly, bringing his dripping fingers down to his hard cock and aligning them side by side; he's right - the thickness of all three of his fingers is relatively similar to the thickness of his cock. There's certainly different aspects - the length being the main difference - but the overall width is pretty spot on.

"Y-yeah," you say softly, eyes glued to it, "Pretty close."

You watch as he carefully drags his fingers along the thick length of his cock, still soaked with your release. He spreads your juices along it with his thumb and fingers, fists it gently and very slowly fucks his fist once. Your eyes are hooded and dark, saliva beginning to pool inside your mouth for reasons you can't even begin to understand.

"You just took three fingers," he continues, thumb tracing the base of his wide tip, "So wouldn't you say that answers a question you've been worryin' your pretty little head about?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, trying to figure out what he means. It's hard to focus on absolutely anything else when his dick is right there in front of you, practically begging to be touched, the fat head pulsing and drooling under your gaze.

"Oh, this is gonna be a problem, isn't it?" he says, amused as he continues to slowly stroke himself, "Can't even think when there's a cock in front of you, huh?"

The words snap you back to reality, but only slightly. You smile sheepishly as you will yourself to look up at his face and away from his dick, "Wh-what question, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles, "You were afraid it wouldn't fit inside you, babygirl," he reminds you gently, "But it will, we just proved that."

Your brain slowly makes sense of what he's saying and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you; he's right. It had burned a bit, been uncomfortable for a moment or two, but ultimately you'd been able to take all three and enjoy it. You feel a smile spread across your face, and you notice his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you.

"You're right," you say breathlessly, smile still wide, "I did it, didn't I?"

His expression softens even more and he smiles back at you, laughing quietly to himself. He opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think better of it, pulling one of his legs back and moving to sit beside you on the bed instead of over you. Your brow furrows a bit in confusion.

"What is it?"

He just shakes his head, still smiling softly to himself, "Nothin', you're just... you're adorable."

Your cheeks warm at that, unable to help feeling a little self conscious. Now that you've come down from your orgasm you're suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, of the fact that he can see every inch of your body. You draw the covers up around yourself quickly, hoping he won't mind.

"Such a shy little thing," he murmurs softly, but makes no move to pull the blankets down again like he had before, just watches you with a smile as your gaze slowly falls back to where he's hard and aching.

"Can I...?" you can't bring yourself to say the words, feeling flustered and nervous at the very thought. He just nods and reaches over to touch your hand, strokes your trembling fingers in his grip.

You watch as he carefully maneuvers your hand toward his crotch and slowly places your hand on his cock. Your fingers curl around his girth almost instinctively, imitating what you've seen him do before. Your lips part, breath hitching as your skin touches his most intimate area, a place on a man you never thought you'd ever be able to feel, at least not until you were married.

It's soft. Not in terms of arousal but just in texture, a silky and smooth feeling you hadn't been expecting. You stare down at your own hand in slight awe as your thumb gently strokes along his shaft, brow furrowing at how different it is than what you'd imagined. It's surprisingly just a body part, just an extension of Joel that usually remains hidden and secret; it's not as scary or intimidating when you can touch it like this, play with it like he plays with you.

"Wow," you say softly, barely aware of it as your fist ever so slowly moves along his length, pumps him just once in that hypnotic way he'd showed you; he's still covered in your own release, wet and slippery, but somehow you don't feel grossed out by it.

"You're a natural," he replies just as quietly, and your skin heats again when you look up to see his face, see the desire and pleasure in his expression, "Don't think there's much I need to teach you, to be honest. My parts are a lot simpler than yours."

You smile to yourself and pump him slowly again, this time brushing against the wet and throbbing tip. He makes a faint grunting sound that makes your eyebrows go up.

"This part..." you say quietly, thumbing the head ever so slightly and feeling your heart race when it pulses beneath you, "It feels different?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, biting down on his lip for a moment, "That part's sensitive, kinda like your clit."

You nod slowly, pushing your thumb up a bit and slowly rotating it along the sensitive area. He inhales sharply, grunts again when you prod the spongey head with both your thumb and index finger, teasing it like he'd done with your nipple.

"Fuck," he mutters softly, voice heavy and breathless, "That's it, angel, you got it."

His praise is like a warm blanket, shrouding you in safety and comfort as you slowly pump his cock again, teasing the head intermittently and trying not to smile too much every time he makes another one of those breathy grunting sounds. You feel pride swelling in your chest, the knowledge that you're actually making him feel good pushing you to continue on.

"What about these?" you ask softly, stilling your hand on his cock for a moment to gesture toward his balls, round and heavy beneath the base, "Does it....do they feel good when they get touched, too?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice dark and full of arousal, "They do."

"Can I touch them?"

The sound that emits from his throat sounds almost like a growl, low and husky, "Yes," he groans, "Go ahead and touch 'em, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice is slightly desperate, bordering on depraved. Your eyes travel back up to his face and his jaw is slack, eyes hooded as he watches you touch him. You've never seen him like this, almost completely wrecked by something you did.

"Gotta be real gentle," he continues, taking a breath through his nostrils and reaching down to pull his pajama pants down a bit more for easier access, "They're sensitive too."

You resume your slow pumping of his cock with one hand while your other reaches down to lightly trail the tips of your fingers along the shape of his balls, round and tender. You cup them gently, teasing them one by one in your palm. He hisses in pleasure, eyes shutting tightly as he leans back a bit against the headboard.

"Feel good?" you whisper, trying your best to fall into the role Joel usually takes on, the role of the person giving the pleasure.

"Yes, baby," he groans, pressing the backs of his hands against his shut eyes, "Yes, feels so good, sweetheart."

Your pumping gets a bit faster, a bit wetter as precum continues to drool from the tip and down his shaft. It's unbelievable that you're really sitting here in a man's bed, a man about thirty years older than you, pumping his cock and making him come apart like this. You can feel yourself throbbing beneath the blankets, getting wet all over again at the reality of the situation, and when your movements cause the blankets to fall from your chest and expose your breasts again, you don't bother trying to cover up.

Joel groans at the sight, reaching over to tweak one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper, "You know what happens when a man comes?" he asks you suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure, "You learn about that in school?"

You nod quickly, feeling sweat trickle down your face as you continue to stroke him up and down, "Yes," you whisper, "I know what happens."

He groans again, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath as he begins to palm your breasts, "I'm about to come, darlin'. There's gonna be a lot, need to know where to aim it."

You bite down on your lip, trying to keep all your focus on making him feel good and not on the hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples. "Wh-where do you want it to go?" But you already know the answer.

"Here," he grunts, thumbing your hard nipples, "These. Wanna come all over these pretty tits, sweetheart, will you let me?"

You nod, "Y-yes, Mr. Miller."

It's everything he needs to suddenly pull himself up from the bed and pull your hands off him, gesturing for you to lie back against his pillows. Your heart races in anticipation, eyes going wide and lips parting again as he leans over you and starts to jack his cock, fast and unrelenting. This is what he'd done the other night, when you'd talked on the phone; you'd tried to imagine what he'd looked like, making his own mess... now you're about to find out.

"Stay just like that, babygirl, just like that," he grunts out, pumping himself over and over as he aims the tip toward your bare breasts, swollen from all the attention he's given them tonight. His expression is tense and so is his body, soft stomach suddenly taut with pressure, chest heaving as he works his hand. He looks almost pained, brows scrunched together as he pulls himself over the edge.

"Come," you find yourself saying quietly, a shaky whimper playing at the edge of your voice, "Come for me."

Within seconds of your words your skin is hit with long ropes of a warm, white liquid, splattering across your breasts in uneven patterns. You watch with hooded eyes as Joel slows his strokes, groans louder than he has all night as his release spurts continuously from the head of his cock, painting you all over. His tense expression eases into one of pure bliss as he tosses his head back again, moaning up at the ceiling.

Wow.

Without asking for permission, without even questioning whether it's proper sex etiquette to do so, you find your hand travelling quickly downward to your wet pussy. You frantically begin to rub your clit, still gazing up at Joel's pleasured form, feeling his come slipping down the sides of your breasts onto the sheets below. You throb and pulse beneath your fingers, whining softly to yourself as your body readies itself for your second orgasm.

Joel looks down at you then, cock still in hand, slowly beginning to soften. He sees what you're doing immediately, and the devilish smirk that crosses his face is enough to send you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck," you moan out as you come, trembling in the sheets and curling your toes in pleasure, "Mmmm," you squirm and writhe beneath his gaze until it's over, then lay still and loose on the bed with barely any thoughts floating through your mind.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to collect yourselves. You can't help but look down at your chest, see the thick patches of come splattered all over your breasts, your nipples. How all of that could come from one person is wild to you; this certainly hadn't been taught in any of your health classes.

The memory of being so naïve, so innocent... it makes you grin. Because you couldn't be further from that person anymore, the one who did everything that was asked of her, never listened to her own heart, stayed on the sidelines and focused on math and extracurriculars and God while other people had these experiences. And now here you are - actually having them.

"I guess I'm not a good little Christian girl anymore," you find yourself saying with a shaky giggle; you suddenly feel reinvigorated, sexually liberated... free.

Joel laughs at that, breathless and genuine. He grins down at you, releases his cock and shuffles downward to lay beside you, "You're my good little Christian girl," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cradle your face, "You did so good."

"Did I?" you ask sincerely, "Be honest, I wanna know."

He just smiles and thumbs your cheek, eyes going crinkly, "You were perfect, babygirl, I swear." He leans forward and kisses you gently, sweetly, like you both didn't just do something completely filthy and depraved - but you're starting to realize that maybe it's normal to do things like this, not as taboo and sinful as you'd always thought.

When you part, you're suddenly painfully aware of the state of the bed, not to mention both of your bodies. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat, you've got come dripping down your skin, and both fluids are already beginning to stain the bedsheets. You make a face.

"Can we...can we change the sheets? And can I maybe take a shower?"

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your cheek one last time before pulling back to extricate himself from the bed, "I'll change 'em, sweetheart. You go get in the shower, it's right across the hall."

You slip out of bed on shaky legs, losing your balance a bit and having to grab on to Joel's bed side table for support. You both laugh, and you find comfort in the casual intimacy of it all - both of you standing there naked without any shame or embarrassment. It's strange and new but so refreshing, that familiar safe feeling warming your skin as you make your way to the bathroom. You pick up your discarded nightdress as you go.

You stare at yourself in Joel's bathroom mirror for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide as they trail up and down your bare form. Splotches cover different parts of your skin, especially your breasts, nipples swollen and dark, not to mention covered in come. You feel an ache between your legs again at the sight and almost roll your eyes at yourself - when will you stop being this insatiable?

Unable to push down the urge to do so, you carefully drag one of your fingers through the layer of white splattered across your chest, fascinated by its sticky texture. He'd marked you, in more ways than one.

The shower is pleasant and relatively quick; you want to get back in Joel's arms as soon as possible. You try not to think too much about the implication of that desire, the safety you feel when you're with him versus the anxiety you feel when you're not and what exactly that means. You try to remind yourself of your roommates and their experiences, their ability to sleep around without catching feelings or getting attached. How do they do it? How do they do it when being close to another person like this is so intimate and special?

You change back into the nightdress after your shower and slip back into Joel's room, finding him laying in the freshly made bed beneath a new duvet. For a moment you think he might be sleeping, quietly shutting the door behind you and tiptoeing over to the bed. However when you get close enough he opens his eyes and looks at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," he murmurs, reaching down to pull back the blankets on the other side - your side, "Get on in."

Your heart pounds harder than it probably should.

Climbing into bed beside Joel feels surprisingly normal, easy. You wriggle underneath the duvet and cuddle in beside him, immediately wrapping an arm around his solid form and nuzzling your head against his shoulder. He's wearing his pajama pants again but his torso is still bare, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline and you can't help but smile.

"I'm glad I came over," you whisper with a content sigh, "I was... I was starting to worry you didn't want me."

"Really?" he asks softly, brow furrowing, "Why's that?"

You shake your head and nuzzle in deeper, "Just me being self conscious and insecure, as usual."

His hand comes up to rub your back soothingly, circling it with his palm through your thin nightdress. He pulls you in a bit closer, kisses your forehead again with a bit more firmness.

"It's normal to feel that way," he murmurs against your skin, "But I do want you, babygirl. You're all I think about lately, I mean that." You shiver at his words, closing your eyes and willing yourself to believe that he really does mean them like he says. "Most beautiful little thing I've had in my bed for a long time."

You press a gentle kiss to his collarbone in response, nose trailing along the skin. He didn't shower but you're sort of glad he didn't; he still smells like sex, a deep masculine musk that you can only attribute to him now, a scent that makes you feel safe.

"I just feel bad...making us sneak around and all that," you admit, "I know it's childish and silly, but I'm so scared of disappointing my parents. I shouldn't be but I am."

"You're young," he says softly, tenderly, "That kinda stuff still matters, especially when you're livin' with them. I get it, honey. You don't have to defend yourself."

You grimace against his skin, "I just wish this could be more normal. That you could just be a guy I'm seeing instead of my guitar teacher," you shake your head, "It's not fair."

He pulls you in even closer with a soft chuckle, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm lookin' forward to teachin' you how to play."

You make a face, "Hymns," you say with a roll of your eyes, "You're teaching me how to play hymns. I don't see anything exciting or sexy about that."

"We'll make it sexy," he murmurs, inching his face downward so it's more level with yours, eyes casting down to your lips, "Thought you were my good little Christian girl."

All thoughts suddenly seem arbitrary when he's looking at you like that, your gaze immediately going hazy as he leans in and kisses you deep, pushes his tongue inside your mouth softly and tastes you. You hum against his mouth as a response, thighs tightening together as if on instinct the second you feel yourself begin to throb again.

"Are you?" he asks huskily when he pulls away, eyes dark but tired, "Are you my good little Christian girl, baby?"

You nod, swallowing down your arousal, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

"You gonna let me touch you while I teach you guitar?"

You nod again, biting back a whimper, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

His eyes dart back down to your lips, hand on your back traveling downward to cup your bare ass beneath the nightdress, "You gonna let me fuck that soft little pussy while you play one of your hymns?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller," you repeat, leaning forward to bury your face in his warm skin and inhale him again, moan softly against the hair on his chest, "Yes."

He squeezes your ass for a moment and then brings his hand back up, pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you tightly, "See, babygirl?" he whispers, "Told you we'll make it sexy."

--

Joel's alarm wakes you around six, rousing you from one of the best sleeps of your life. You open your eyes groggily, feeling him lean over you in bed to turn it off, warm chest brushing your arm. You roll over in bed and cuddle into him again, humming sleepily to yourself when he pulls you in close.

"I gotta get ready for work," he murmurs gently into your hair, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

You frown sleepily but don't have the energy to protest, eyes closing again as you melt back into his pillow. You feel him release you from his embrace and press a kiss to your forehead, a simple reminder that this isn't some dream you're having, it's somehow reality. You smile and fall asleep again within seconds.

--

He wakes you up again after about half an hour, seats himself on the edge of his bed and strokes your hair. You peer up at him with a sleepy and satisfied expression, unable to stop the words that fall immediately from your lips:

"Kiss me."

He doesn't need convincing, still thumbing your hair behind your ear as he leans down and kisses you softly, bumps your nose against his and lets your tongue lazily explore his mouth, tasting mouthwash. You sigh contentedly, pulling back to smile at him while he strokes your cheek.

"Sleep good?" he asks you softly.

You nod, remembering the closeness the two of you had shared all night, the soft hugs and tender cuddles, the quiet intimacy you've never experienced with anyone else. "Amazing," you whisper.

He kisses you again before you get out of bed, then takes your hand as he leads you downstairs. You grab your jacket on the way out of his bedroom, still hanging on the back of his door. You look down at yourself as you both reach the top of the stairs, realizing there's no way you'll be able to walk home in an outfit like this without certainly being accosted by a nosy neighbor.

You push down your worry when you reach the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face when you see that the kitchen table is set with breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You made me breakfast?" you ask in awe, looking from the food to Joel and back again.

He laughs, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, "I did," he says with a smile, "And as much as I'd love for us to just sit and enjoy it," he looks down at his watch with a grimace as he takes a sip of coffee, "we have about ten minutes before I gotta drive you home and then get to work."

You sit down at the table, picking up your fork and immediately digging into the eggs, "You're gonna drive me home?"

He seats himself across from you, watching you enjoy what he'd cooked with a fond smile, "Can't have you walkin' home in that tiny little thing, can I?" he says teasingly, "Your parents would wring my neck."

You groan, "Oh god, please don't even joke about that. If they knew..."

He just chuckles and starts to eat, looking up every now and then to give you one of those crinkly-eyed crooked smiles that makes you weak. You smile through mouthfuls of food and feel your skin alight every time you feel his gaze on you.

"I don't usually eat this fast, I promise," you say through a mouthful of bacon, covering your mouth, "It's only 'cause we're on a time crunch."

He shakes his head, still smiling, "You're so damn cute."

You try your hardest not to reach across the table and pull him toward you for a kiss.

--

The drive from his house to yours is extremely short, no less than two minutes. Still, you enjoy the short time you spend in his truck, his big hand spread out on your bare thigh while he hums along to a tune on the radio and gives you soft little sideways glances that makes your heart flutter. You can't help but feel like someone else when you're with him, someone more carefree and outgoing, happier and more experienced. It's only when you slowly near your house that you realize maybe this person is who you really are.

"Stop here," you tell Joel with a grimace, still a few houses away, "My parents are still home."

"How're you gonna get in?" he asks with an edge of concern to his voice, eyeing your house, "Think you can climb the fence?"

You bite your lip, "Probably. I've never done it before but I don't have much choice," you lean your head against the backrest in irritation, "God, why did I choose now to rebel? I coulda learned how to do all this shit when I was a kid if I hadn't been so obsessed with being perfect."

He gives you a sympathetic look, thumb stroking your thigh reassuringly, "I'll stay right here 'til you're inside."

You yearn to lean over the small space between you and kiss him, but you know there's always a risk of a neighbor coming out of their house and seeing you. Instead, you place your hand atop the one on your thigh and squeeze his fingers gently, giving him a small smile.

"I had a really nice night," you say quietly, unsure how exactly this kind of thing is done, "And morning."

"So did I, sweetheart," he replies, voice tender, "We'll do it again, promise."

With one final squeeze of his hand you slip out of his truck, tying your jacket around your waist to cover up your legs a bit. It leaves your upper half more exposed than you'd like, your eyes going wide when you realize how much cleavage this nightdress really shows.

"Here," Joel says, understanding your reaction immediately, "Wear this on top." Without giving you any time to protest he's unbuckling himself to undo his plaid button down, shirking it off his shoulders and handing it to you. It leaves him in a t-shirt and jeans, your eyes trailing to his strong arms without meaning to, the arms that had held you close all night.

"Thank you," you murmur, brow furrowing a bit, "You're sure?"

He smiles crookedly and buckles up again, "I'm sure, angel. You keep that."

Your heart flutters as you wrap his shirt around you, slipping your arms into the much too long sleeves and inhaling the scent of him - your new favorite smell - surrounding you. You're never getting rid of this. Ever.

With a wave you hurry down the sidewalk, feeling slightly ridiculous in your layered and baggy outfit but relieved that you're covered up. You eye the tall white fence of your backyard, trying to formulate a plan in your head as you go. Hop the fence, get a ladder from the tool shed and climb up to your bedroom? But did you even leave your window open? You can't help but feel rage in your chest for your parents rules, the curfew, all the nonsense you've been living with for your entire life. Why the fuck don't you have a fucking key to your own fucking house?

You can feel Joel's eyes on you when you reach the fence, still sitting in his truck a few houses down.

Please, God, you think to yourself as you slip one of your sneakers in between the fence posts and yank yourself up, I know I've sinned. I know I'm a mess. And I'm not even sure I really believe in you anymore. But please, if you're there, don't let me make a fool of myself in front of Joel Miller.

Surprisingly, your prayer seems to work. Climbing up the fence is relatively easy; you keep an eye out for your neighbors as you quickly pull yourself over and flop down on the other side, extremely grateful that neither your jacket nor Joel's shirt gets caught on anything. You hurry to the tool shed, eyeing your bedroom window as you go and feeling beyond relieved when you see that it's wide open; God bless Texan summers.

You decide to wait inside the tool shed until your parents are gone, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself with the ladder. You close the door behind you and sink to the concrete floor, heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you've just done overwhelms you.

You snuck out to see a man. You slept in his bed. He drove you home so you could sneak back in.

Quiet laughter fills the tool shed, all coming from your own mouth. You grin to yourself and shake your head in the darkness, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes. Who are you? Who is this new person you've become? You don't know, but you love her.

You find yourself pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket and typing out a new message, but this time it's not to Joel - it's to your friends from college:

i think i'm officially a bad girl.

[aingeal98]

Steph for the ask game?

three facts about them from my personal headcanons

-The first woman Steph was ever attracted to was Zatanna. She didn't realise this until later on when she was dating Cass and it clicked that it hadn't just been platonic girl crush appreciation

-She did actually die. The body they put in the ground was actually Steph. Due to reality warping from various villains she ended up in Africa with Leslie who admitted that she hadn't actually let Steph die but tried everything and saw her bleed out regardless. They were both highly confused how she was alive again and they never did fully confirm why.

-She has all the autopsy scars and long lasting damage from Black Mask's torture. She used to play the piano but when she came back her fingers didn't stretch the way they used to and the first time she tried it gave her a panic attack.

a reason they suck

They were created and written by Chuck Dixon, which often meant being a part of his shitty conservative propaganda. She was more of a victim than a perpetrator most of the time, but I'd love to have modern Steph reflect on that and be like "Damn that internalized misogyny was kicking my ass sometimes huh."

a reason they are great

What if the entire narrative was stacked against you, what if your writers and editors looked down on you for being a teenage girl and treated you as nothing more than a pawn in their shitty sexist manpain stories. And what if you survived and triumphed and became loved enough to carve your own narrative. What if people have come and gone from the "family" that once excluded you maliciously but you're still here and kicking, a core part of it now. They put you in the Robin uniform as a consolation prize before killing you but you're still here and you're clawing your part in that history with everything you've got. For everyone that'll say Damian is the fourth Robin there's someone who'll reply "Actually that was Stephanie Brown."

a reason I relate to them

Being an isolated teenage girl who feels a deep anger at the injustice of the world and doesn't quite have anywhere to fit in or fully vent that anger? I was literally two bad days away from going out on the street to fight crime when I was a teen. I tend to relate to Cass more because the specific mentality and issues she have resonate strongly, but Steph also has plenty of material for me to dig into.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character

Stephcass. It's gotta be stephcass. I could give a million reasons but I've yelled about this so much on my blog already. They bounce off each other so well, they've got the backstory and angst and complex dynamic while also being funny and cute together. The accidental romantic narrative they created is so damn good it barely needs anything to canonize it at this point.

five things that never happened to that character that I believe should have happened

A proper go at being Robin. An apology from Bruce. A discussion with Tim about what they did wrong and an apology too. A long talk with Cass after she came back from the dead with (you guessed it) an apology from Cass. Getting to talk to preboot Jason about what it means to be a sacrificial lamb to give Batman manpain and hype Tim up as the perfect Robin.

five people that character never fell in love with and why

-Dean. Even if she hadn't gotten pregnant it would have never worked out. He was simply too old and for all Steph hates herself she would have realized it eventually

-Detective Gage, for exactly the same reasons as Dean.

-Jason. He died before she came along and by the time he came back it would never cross either of their minds to be anything but purely platonic. They can bond but neither of them appeal to the other romantically.

-Kyle Mizoguchi. He's sweet and they could be something but unfortunately she's in love with Cass at this point. Like the entirety of Batgirls is just Steph and Cass being in love and not realizing it. Kyle had the wrong timing.

-Dick Grayson. The hypothetical age difference isn't a problem for Steph. But obviously, it's an issue for Dick. If she were ever to fall in love with him in an alternate universe and confess he'd be highly alarmed to find out why she thought things were possible between them. It might actually be nice for Steph to get an understanding ear and a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her that it's not her fault and those men were wrong, but that's all. For one thing Dick is not a scumbag who creeps on young girls and for another thing that's his little brother's ex. In no universe could this ever be more than a one sided crush.

[x-aefx]

ONE TIME THING - BELLA RAMSEY (PART5)

Pictures above are not mine

Summary: unbeknownst to you, you meet actor Bella Ramsey. You two hit it off but your paths lead two different directions.

Bella Ramsey x female reader

Taglist: @evieguhbyebroski @amberputh @assgardangod @niwritespoetry @mainslutsblog @obsessedmunson @guacala @that-one-little-soybean

Warnings: none (?)

A/N- I am sorry this took so long, I've been studying for my exams and only finished them on the 1st. Not proofread.

Part one⬇️

★★

It took you the entire journey home to register what was happening, the moment you stepped into your home the wheels in your brain started turning and you realized you were about to get ready to meet with Bella.

Bella Ramsey. Mildred Hubble. Lyanna Mormont. Bella fucking Ramsey.

You wouldn't ruin this for yourself. You wouldn't over procrastinate or stress so much that you end up convincing yourself not to go. You would calmly get ready and have fun.

You cringed slightly. You knew that wasn't going to happen.

Aware of the time you ran upstairs to your bedroom.

Choosing an outfit has never been a worry before. A graphic tee would be your go-to in this heat, was that too casual? You didn't even know where you were going.

You continued your search.

Your hands dived deeper, everytime they moved another shirt that was one size too small, or a too revealing dress, your determination grew. Simple was the best option. You doubted Bella would show up dressed to the 9's, they seemed more laid back. Your fingers clung to the soft white fabric of a sleeveless tank top. Your head turned to your window. It was sunny today, not a single cloud in the blue sky. Last time you checked it was 21°C, you were sure it had gotten hotter. You decided that would be the top to wear. Standing back from your wardrobe you moved to your drawers.

Pulling the first drawer opened your hands rummaged through the folded trousers until you saw the familiar trusting blue high waisted jeans.

You wanted to put together a fancy outfit, and you were surprised you didn't, but it was just so hot and your mind was still processing today's events.

When your hair was brushed and your eyelashes curled you turned to your mirror. This would have to do. Taking your phone from the desk you checked the time. You were disappointed when you seen you still had plenty time. Bella had texted you an address, which lead to you typing it into Google maps.

The results were a nice looking vegan restaurant, one you had never heard of before and was only a ten minute walk from your home.

A simple lunch. Don't overthink it.

To keep your mind occupied you watched a few of Bella's past interviews. Somewhere along the way you had found one from when they were on the Worst Witch, you had to admit they were adorable and their long hair suited them.

When the interviews weren't enough to keep your anxiety at bay, you decided you would continue reading your book. You were quick to realize the words were not registering in your head.

Sighing you left your room and made your way to the living room to find something to put you at ease.

There wasn't anything worth watching on the tv, food didn't seem appealing as of right now, you didn't even have any chores to do.

Plopping down onto the soft cushions of your couch, your hands rested on you stomach as you tried to relax. You had seen your mum do this after every shift at work, it seemed to help her.

"Ugh" you groaned. You dug your hands into your pocket and pulled out your phone. Relaxing might be your mum's thing, but not yours.

You had a new message from Aaron and two from your sister. You were still mad at your sister so you decided to open Aarons instead.

You bit your fingernail, a nervous habit you had developed. You hadn't told Aaron about how you had ran into Bella multiple times since sitting beside them on the bus. You didn't know if you should tell him or not.

Aaron was your bestfriend. You told him everything, and trusted him completely. You didn't know why you were so hesitant to tell him.

You didn't want Aaron thinking the situation was anything more than what it was. You stared at the text and thought about your options. Finally your fingers began moving across the keyboard.

You leaned back into the couch. You hated lying, especially to Aaron.

It wasn't a complete lie anyways, you were almost sure that was why your sister had messaged you. She barely texted you for anything but favours.

You watched the three dots move. What if he knew I was lying?

You smiled thankful that he didn't seem to pissed.

You spent the next hour scrolling aimlessly, rotating from social media to online clothing stores.

★

4:48

You jumped from your position on the couch once you realized the time. You wouldn't be late.

Grabbing everything you needed you made your way out of your home, google maps opened on your phone and Mac Miller playing from your earphones.

What would you even say to them? What would you both talk about?

You tried to focus on your music.

With every stop the restaurant got closer and your nerves grew.

Why did you agree to this?

This was way out of your comfort zone.

Suddenly you wished you had told Aaron. He would give you shitty advice, but it always managed to calm you.

You guessed what he might say if he were with you.

You won't be able to marry them if you can't go on one single date.

Pretend its Granny.

If you don't want to talk or don't know what to say, shove your mouth with as much food as possible.

Pretend you don't speak English

Maybe it was for the better that your best friend wasn't here.

You sighed, the music was becoming annoying so you took your earphones out and safely tucked them into your trousers pocket. The restaurant was up a head, you could just about see it so the Google maps wasn't in need anymore.

You fiddled with your hands, sometimes your finger would play with one of the many bracelets on your arm.

Please don't be awkward

Don't mess it up

You calmed your breathing.

The restaurant was nice. It was a red brick building with a large wooden door. Flowers were overgrown from their plant pots above the door and at the bottom of the building. Ivy was growing on the side.

From the large windows you could see the wooden floor and tables inside. The fairy lights creating a soft glow. There were a couple of people inside, not completely busy.

You passed a red fiat car parked at the side and made your way to the wooden door and inside.

Here goes nothing

Pushing the door open your eyes began searching for the familiar brunette.

"hello miss, how can I help you?"

You looked to the smiling waiter.

You smiled back, "I'm fine, just looking for a friend." The waiter nodded.

You then seen those dark messy curls, black t-shirt that had writing you couldn't make out. Their head was ducked as they typed on their phone but you knew it was Bella.

You slowly walked over.

"hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

★ ★ ★

Bella sighed. They didn't know why the person they chose to confide in was the 40 year old man who still was mentally 13 years old.

"walked right into that one." Bella muttered.

They didn't want to admit it, but they arrived twenty minutes early, hoping time would speed up and you would be here already. That wasn't the case. It only gave them more time to stress. Bella began typing out their response.

"hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Bella's head snapped up from their phone to the voice, to you.

In that moment Bella felt all air leave their lungs. They didn't know what to say or how to say it.

★ ★

You watched as Bella's confused face disappeared and a smile formed on their lips.

"Hi" Bella breathed out.

You chuckeld at their nervous state.

"hi" you replied back as you took your seat across from them.

It was silent for a moment, but it wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable silence. You both took the time to take in each other. All your previous meetings felt rushed and observed, but right now it felt like time slowed. The few people in the restaurant weren't paying any mind to the two of you.

Bella put their phone away and sat straighter.

"you know, I was worried you wouldn't show up. Actually I think it's concerning that you did. I am basically a stranger after all." Bella teased.

You faked offence.

"you know your right. I think I should get going-"

As you turned your body in your chair and was about to stand up you felt another hand on top of your own from across the table.

The feeling of their cold rings on your warm skin sent goosebumps all along your body.

You turned to look at Bella's hand holding yours and then to their grinning face.

"you wouldn't." Bella squinted their eyes and you could see their lips were trying to conceal their laugh.

"oh I would." You threatened teasingly. You turned to the table beside you, "but man does the food look good here."

Bella finally let out the laugh they were trying to contain. Their hand left yours and suddenly you wished you had savoured the feeling of it more.

You sat back into your seat. The same waiter who had greeted you at the door walked over to your table, pen and paper in hand. He smiled at the both of you.'eric' his name tag read.

You quickly opened the menu and scanned through your options whilst Bella told the waiter what they wanted.

You decided on the Vegan carbonara pasta.

"I'll have that brought out for you in a few minutes"

The waiter left and it was just you and Bella again.

"how long have you been working at the café?" Bella was the first to start the conversation.

You pondered the answer in your head."I'm not sure exactly, can't be over a year though. It's only until I start college."

Bella listened intently to every word you spoke. They gave you their undivided attention.

Once you finished talking about your hopes for college you decided to ask Bella a question.

"aren't you studying environmental science?"

Bella raised a brow, that familiar grin back on their lips."were you stalking me online?"

You scoffed. Their teasing tone and their face full of pride making you embarrassed.

"No" you mumbled as you drank the water from your glass.

Bella laughed, "you definitely were."

"you would do the same if I were super famous!"

Bella laughed again at your words.

"oh definitely"

Your food was eventually brought out. Bella and you ate, still you chatted about each of your lives and what you had in common. You had to admit it was probably one of the best conversations you've ever had.

★

The food was ate and time had passed, the sky had darkened and the restaurant gradually emptied, only a few lingering at the bar area.

It never got awkward between you and Bella, no silences. You found talking to them easy, always having something to say and them having a response.

But all good things had to end.

You glanced at the clock on the wall across from you.

You knew it was meant to be raining later and you didn't want to have to walk in it or the dark either.

Bella must've noticed your disappointment.

-

Bella noticed your eyes wander to the wall behind them, knowing there was a clock there due to the amount of times they had visited the restaurant.

Their cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you too long, I didn't notice the time move by." Bella apologized. They rubbed their hands on their thighs, a habit that came with nerves.

"no-no it's not that, I walked here and I'm aware it might rain later." You explained. "I wouldn't mind staying longer. I've had fun. Getting to know you and all "

Bella smiled. No one would ever know that inside their heart was about to explode from their chest, and their mind was coming up with thousands of scenarios and hidden meanings to your words.

"I'll walk you" the words left Bella's mouth before they could register what they were saying. They don't know why they said it, but part of them was glad they did because they knew normally they would never have the courage to ask.

You stared. You didn't know how to respond.

"yeah sure-i'd like that." You smiled.

Fuck you and your awkwardness! You thought to yourself .

Before you knew it both of you were exiting the restaurant together after dividing the check.

Bella was reluctant to let you pay even a penny, but you could be stubborn.

Bella paid no mind to their car as both of you passed it. They didn't want to tell you they drove here and could easily drive you back to your home, because that would mean they would have to say goodbye to you sooner, and they wanted to stall that as much as possible.

Bella walked with their hands in their pockets and you with your arms at your side.

The walk was quiet for the most part, bella would sometimes tell a cringy joke or recall a funny story from working on set. You enjoyed listening to them talk.

Bella didn't notice how close you were getting to your home, but you did. You wanted to be selfish and stall for as long as possible to avoid saying that dreaded goodbye.

"I'm glad I accepted your offer to get to know you better. " You avoided eye contact, choosing to play with your bracelet.

"I'm glad you did too." Bella smiled at you and watched you fiddle nervously. You met their eyes briefly before looking away, Bella's smile widened.

"I have interviews and meetings for majority of the week except Friday, maybe we could meet again?" Bella asked almost shyly, they felt like a kid again the way they got all giddy inside.

You frowned. "As much as I would love to, I'm meeting with an old friend on Friday." You apologized.

Bella masked their disappointment with a smile

"another time?"

"absolutely."

The rest of the walk to your home was quiet.

"I'd invite you inside but I don't want you walking in the rain." You said when you reached the door of your house.

"I wouldn't be able to stay long anyways, I have an early appointment tomorrow." Bella reassured you.

It was silent until bella spoke up again

"I had fun today. Text me, yeah?"

You agreed to and the both of you said your goodbyes when you couldn't stall it anymore.

The smiles on both your faces remained long after you said your goodbyes.

__

Part 6⬇️

A/n: I'm so excited for the next chapter, I have such a cute idea-

[wtowingedtragicobsidian]

~Premise: The jjk first years get into a game of never have I ever~

It started innocently enough, as a way to kill time after being patched up fresh off a particularly battering mission and subsequently sentenced to a day of rest.

Being a little more honest from the painkillers might have helped, but it didn't take long for the whole ordeal to devolve into prodding for all the juicy details on more exciting topics. This is the highlight reel.

CW: illegal activities (it sounds harsher than it is), underage smoking/drinking. Expect a (American) high school level warning ig? iykyk. Special warnings for mentions of terminal illness and questionable decisions during grief.

Fights. Kugisaki: 9 fingers, Fushiguro: 9 fingers, Itadori: 10 fingers.

At being asked if he had been in any fights Fushiguro scoffed. "Of course, we're jujutsu sorcerers." After Kugisaki clarified she meant, like, fights not related to being a sorcerer, he just went "oh," but didn't change his answer.

Despite being well built, enough to probably make it easy for him to dominate any fight (as pointed out by Kugisaki and corroborated by Fushiguro) Itadori hadn't been in any. He argued he had gotten hit a few times pulling others out of them, but Kugusaki quickly shot that down saying it didn't count.

Kugisaki herself, apparently, had a history of starting full on brawls (according to her always because somebody else was talking shit) as far back as first grade when she chopped another girl's pigtail off with a pair of scissors. Honestly, not much has changed. Itadori and Fushiguro both silently agree she's scary.

Drinking. K: 8, F:9, I:9

The only time Kugisaki had been drunk is when she was celebrating being accepted into JJ Tech (and therefor getting to leave her village). She and Fumi had done shots with some old floral liqueurs she liberated from her grandmother's cabinet. She claims the hangover "wasn't that bad," but that she wouldn't recommend it, shooting a pointed look at the boys.

Megumi had never even touched alcohol. The closest he got was when Gojo offered him a sip of wine after he graduated middle school, but he thought it smelled gross, so he declined. Kugusaki laughed at him for that.

"Pussy."

"Shut up."

Yuji had gotten absolutely plastered off some vodka when he was 11. In his defense it had been left out and he thought it was just, "weirdly spicy water."

*snort* "geez, you ARE dense."

"Hey!"

When his grandpa had been diagnosed Yuji confiscated his booze so he could take the proper tests and all. Whenever Yuji noticed his grandpa had smuggled some, he would take a swig before dumping the bottle. "I didn't want it to all go to waste," he justified sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. Nobody laughed at that.

Thievery. K: 7, F: 9, I: 8

Yuji stole a toy truck once when he was little kid. But he ended up feeling really guilty (especially after his grandpa chewed him out for it). So they went back and he returned it apologizing profusely in between little hiccups. This prompted a fond "d'awwww," from Kugisaki and Fushiguro chuckled a little.

Kugisaki said she had definitely nicked a few small things in her youth, mostly cosmetics, but it lost its appeal pretty quick. She thinks she still has one of the nail polishes.

Fushiguro claimed he hadn't stolen anything, but, after a pause, revealed that sometimes his shikigami, just, show up with stuff. And he doesn't know where it comes from, not that he can exactly ask. That's actually how he's gotten every single tennis ball he has for the dogs. But, according to him, Nue is the worst offender (at this point he was getting irritated). Once, after he had only recently tamed it, it brought back a shiny hairpin with auburn hair still in it. He ended up spending the better part of half an hour distressed, trying to figure out if and how he should return it. (He gave up because the whole ordeal was absurd, and he had wasted enough time that they were probably gone anyway.)

There was pause, then they all devolved into giggles. Itadori clutching his stomach and kicking his feet cus "oooooh damn, that's so funny!" and "ah geez I wondered where they kept getting those balls from."

"Itadori I told you they are not pets!" with all the bite taken out from trying to suppress his own laughter.

"Who would have thought the most uptight one of us would have the longest record, you're a criminal!"

"Hey! But you're the one who actually stole stuff." Kugisaki feigns a offended gasp.

"What color was it anyway?"

"Eh? Orange, I think? Why? You want me to paint your nails?"

"Sure, so I can have the proper colors on next time we take a walk down into town with Fushiguro's dogs."

"Oi, they don't steal stuff every time!"

"But you admit they do steal stuff!"

Thievery. K: 7, F: 9 8, I: 8

Smoking. K: 7, F: 8, I: 7

Neither Kugisaki or Fushiguro have smoked, though Fushiguro was offered a cigarette once by "some fucking idiot."

Yuji, weirdly enough, had not only smoked before, but had done so multiple times. "My Gramps used to be a regular at this bar with a bunch of old-fashioned slot games. And sometimes I would tag along to watch him. One of the regulars there offered me a cigarette, but I couldn't finish it. I think it took me 2? 3? tries using my grandpa's before I managed? I remember being so proud of myself when I went back and they offered again and I completed it. But then he, ah, stopped going as much, 'cus, I mean we didn't know it at the time, but he was getting sicker, and he didn't really wanna go out as much and stuff..." and then, quieter, "When he got admitted, I smoked the rest of the pack in probably a week? I don't know, it was a weird week. But when I got down to the last one, I couldn't light it. I guess I realized that if he came back, he wouldn't have any left and that made me feel guilty, so, I didn't. I don't know, is that stupid?"

"geez dude" Kugisaki and Fushiguro exchanged glances and she leaned down a little, "no, I don't think that's stupid."

"Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

"You mentioned slot machines, does this mean you've gambled too?"

"Fushiguro!"

Gambling. K: 7, F: 8, I: 6

Itadori had. "I probably inherited the itch from my grandpa. Good thing I didn't inherit his rotten luck!" (he laughed).

Fushiguro and Kugisaki hadn't gambled in the way the Itadori had. But Kugisaki had made plenty of friendly wagers for both favors and cash. She promised (threatened) to drag Fushiguro into them sometime.

Kissing. K: 6, F: 7, I: 6

"So, have you ever kissed anyone?"

Kugisaki and Itadori both deny it, but Fushiguro, completely unexpectedly, answers yes.

He had made out with people out of curiosity in his last year of middle school but had stopped because he got uncomfortable with some of the groping. Apparently none of it "really meant anything," to him though.

"Well, I that case I wasn't being completely honest," Kugisaki pipes up. When she and Fumi had been celebrating, she had joked offhand that the only thing that could make this better is if she'd had her first kiss by now, to tell Saori about, or something along those lines. And, well, Fumi had kissed her. "But it was just a peck and we were drunk and I'm not sure if she even remembers," so she doesn't count it as anything.

"You kissed a girl?"

"...yeah."

"What was it like?"

"It was just a brush of the lips-"

"Yeah, but, c'mon. Give us something."

"Sweet. There, happy?"

Itadori falls back, "Ah damn, now I feel lame. How come you've both got to kiss girls before me?" (Fushiguro remains silent.)

"Well what's stopping you?"

"I'm not gonna kiss somebody just 'cus! No offense Fushiguro. I want the first time to be special ya know? Like, with The One and all that." Fushiguro groans and Kugisaki raises an eyebrow at him.

"OMG that is sooooo cheesy. I didn't know you were a romantic~"

"Are you making fun of me right now?"

"What? Noooo! Of course not."

"I think its perfectly fine," Fushiguro offers and Kugisaki notices his face is a little-

Oh —so thats how it is—

"Don't worry Itadori, I'm sure you'll be able to kiss someone eventually," she says aiming a wink at Fushiguro who's ears turned bright red.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

The Dutchess of Camden

Hobie wants to take Diane to her first punk show. And she has just the outfit. (a.k.a How Diane got her punk battlejacket - aka I saw this photo of Fran Fine and laughed so hard.)

DiscoPunk - DiscoSpider!Diane x Hobie Brown - PURE FLUFF. More fluff than a cappucino with extra foam. FLUFFY

Also this post was largely inspired by @spidey-bie and their post about Ansi & Hobie!!

______________________________________

Diane isn't punk.

With chiffon skirts and silk shirts and glittery nails and light up roller-wheels - if anything, she was the farthest thing from it. But that never stopped her, did it?

Without a doubt, she was still Hobie's #1 fan.

Hobie had only known Diane a couple of weeks - and it was only four months ago that he'd met her that in that darkened club, a Daiquiri on her lips and a joint at her fingertips.

And since then, the party hadn't stopped.

Hobie didn't have an explanation for it - but for some reason, Diane seemed to like him. If anything, she seemed to adore him. And that in itself wasn't a rarity -

She just wasn't afraid to show it.

Out of a room full of people, she'd be the one to approach him first. In a cafeteria full of tables, she was the one to ask if she could sit at his, just because 'y'all seem like you're having fun'.

And regardless of what anyone had to say about it, to Hobie - that only added to the appeal. Because Diane said it all the time -

'Closed mouths don't get fed - Ain't that right?'

Over the weeks, he'd gotten used to her face, front row at SpiderBand's every show. He'd gotten use to her laugh, and the way she'd smile every time he told a joke - no matter how unoriginal. How he could make her laugh without fail.

He'd gotten use to the way he felt when he knew she was there, safe somewhere nearby.

Like praying for someone to turn up to school that day, and then hearing that they did.

And did having her on his arm, his voice in her ear, an inside joke between the two of them - mean them anything?

Hobie didn't know. And he didn't care.

It didn't matter what Diane being at his side made her - as long as she wasn't going anywhere.

And so he'd bring her along for the ride, as long as she'd let him.

Hobie and Diane had known weeks, and she was never shy to invite herself, asking for permission to tag along any place that sounded funky enough for her to find it far out.

And he was never one to tell her 'No'.

But there was one place she'd yet to go - and that was 138.

"Oi, I'm taking you to a rock show tonight. It's in 138, so try to blend in, alright?"

"Of course!" she says. "I've been waiting for this! I have just the outfit."

And then she turns up in this.

Diane looks at him and goes "What'd I tell ya!"

She's so proud of herself. She thinks she's killing it. She brought that outfit the month she met him and she's been waiting for this moment.

She's like -

Hobie has to cover his face. Because if he looks at her - he's gonna start laughing. Cause what iN THE HELL-

Hobie looks at her like -

"Di, where'd you get that?"

She's like "Malala (Spider-UK). It's SO CUTE right. I look all posh!"

Hobie is like "You look like a Spice Girl. You look like Scary Spice and Ginger Spice had a baby."

Diane takes a moment to assess the situation. She reads his body language. And of course she's like "I feel very complimented but your tone of voice is saying otherwise, Hobart."

Cause what do you mean??? she absolutely understood the assignment!!!

Hobie takes a moment. He loves the enthusiasm, but still, he considers a way to break it to her softly, before telling her "Yo, me and my mates be setting that flag on fire-"

"Good cause it looks fire on ME."

And.. She's not lying. So what's the problem?!?

Hobie doesn't have one. And it'll be a frigid day in hell before he tells Diane to change - for any reason, clothes or otherwise.

He asks her if she'd dead set on wearing it, and she's goes "What- do you think the skirt is too tight to dance in? I can. Don't worry, I checked."

If she's going to have a good time, that's all he cares about. And Hobie just smiles, telling her if that's the case then the outfit is bloody perfect.

Because somehow Diane finding the most perfectly coordinated outfit regardless of crowd, vibe, occasion, or time of day, seemed so entirely her.

Not faking it for him in ripped fishnets or studded clothes. Turning up in her perfect black stockings and the most painfully British outfit she could find.

And it wasn't until she pointed to him, that he understood why. "I wanted to match - you know, your pin." she says, pressing a manicured nail to his lapel. "It's my favorite one."

To him, the outfit is perfect. Funny as hell, but perfect.

"Brilliant taste you have." "Couldn't you tell from my taste in boys?"

The whole 'blending in' thing went out the window. But the outfit is a hit.

People couldn't help but notice the 6 foot girl who wore stilettos and a Union Jack to the function. A regular in the circuit, Hobie couldn't help but stay by her side - watching amused as she looked around the shitty backalley venue like it was a palace.

It was so different from the discos.

Diane couldn't help but marvel at how 'Hobie' the world seemed. "You're still the coolest thing here, though." She tells him over and over.

Hobie makes sure to keep an arm over her shoulder, not out of possessiveness, but the fact that Diane was liable to drifting off, eyes dazzled at how cool and punk and textured and rough everything seemed, how vibrant people were.

And Hobie loved it.

He wants her to love it, to enjoy herself. To smile and laugh and go on and on about how funky everything was. "But like - in a you way."

He wanted her to have a good time, but Hobie knew eventually, someone would say something.

And it came with a laugh.

"Christ, that's gotta be the funniest thing I've seen tonight." A guy wearing red liberty spikes said, and Hobie recognized him as Ned, a guitarist in some straight edge band.

And the girl at his side, Betty, grinned as she laughed along.

And Hobie wondered if he should scare them off, or give Diane a chance to bite their heads off first. Until Betty said-

"Fuck. I wish I'd thought of that."

"Huh?" Diane asked pointedly, seemingly more annoyed at the distribution of her Hobie-induced haze than anything else.

"Ain't that a giant 'fuck you' to the fascists - a black chick wearing their 'heritage' like it's the new spring collection - I'd pay to see the first skinhead that had a butchers at you," Betty said and she was a black girl herself, hair in neat boxbraids. "They'd be fucking fuming."

Diane side-eyed Hobie for a translation, and Hobie smirked, leaning in closer to her ear. "That's a good thing," he assured her, voice teeming with pride as he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Because pissing off skinheads was very much a compliment.

Diane raised her eyebrows, because she surely couldn't tell. But, if Hobie said it, she was willing to take his word on it.

"Thank you..?" She chuckled, a hand on Hobie's arm. "Sorry, I ain't that good at speaking British. Hobie usually translates for me - Thank God he speaks American or I'd be so lost -"

"And she's American - that's fucking hilarious. No wonder she doesn't give a fuck." Ned said, grinning, pointing to her top.

And finally, Diane looked down - as if she'd just noticed what they meant.

"The flag?" She questioned, pouting her lips in confusion. "Am I supposed to give a fuck about the flag?"

"You aren't." Betty said. "That's what's so punk about it."

Her face lit up. Diane didn't speak British, but that she understood.

And she had to turn her face into Hobie's shoulder to not squeal. They said her perfect outfit was punk!

They said she was Punk!

Hobie stiffled his laughter, pulling Diane closer as he reached up to ruffle her perfectly curled hair.

Diane bit back her euphoria as she composed herself, flattered beyond belief. And to the pair in front of her, Diane said -

"Why, thank you!" mimicking a curtsey, head bowed and knees bent.

The pair burst out laughing.

And then, they did the same, playing along.

"Pleasure is ours, Your Majesty.~" Betty snickered, nudging Ned to get him to play along, and the dark-skinned boy did the same. "And to whom do we owe the honor?" he asked.

"Diane." Hobie said, squeezing her at the waist for a moment, and before she could tell them otherwise, Hobie said. "Call her Dutchess, yeah?"

Betty held back a snort. "Dutchess - She the Dutchess of Camden then?"

"Brilliant, you two." Ned said. "Leave it to Hobie to find a cheeky one."

Diane was glowing in his arms.

"The Duchess of Camden." Hobie said, a smirk coming to his lips. He adored the sound of it. "That she is. A national treasure, this one." And he believed it.

Hobie couldn't help but drink in the joy on Diane's face.

The name was so prestigious sounding - glamourous even - and Diane had no idea what the hell a Dutchess was, but she damn sure knew what royalty meant.

But nothing could compare to Hobie's words.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, drinking in the flattery. And when she looked at Hobie her eyes were elated, dazzled to share the moment with him.

"Oh my, What a Prince Charming!" Diane laughed, wrapping her arms around Hobie. Who knew people in his universe would be just as cool, as interesting, as kind?

Who knew that not caring or thinking about British culture at all - not trying to make a statement, or say much of anything at all, could be punk? Hobie didn't.

Somehow, though, Diane managed to work miracles.

"Well, Dutchess," Ned said. "I take it you and Prince Charming here fancy a cordial invitation to the pub after this?"

Diane's jaw nearly dropped. "A Pub, like a Tavern?" And she couldn't imagine anything more British than a tavern. "Like the kind that serves pints? Just say the word and I'll call my horse-drawn carriage!"

Dutchess rode carriages, right? Who else would?

Betty shook her head, a grin on her lips. "Enjoy the show, Your Highness." she said, lacing her fingers with Ned's before weaving them back into the crowd.

For a second, Diane didn't say anything - cheeks glowing with the smile she was fighting back. Hobie wished he could make her feel that way forever.

"Well Punk royalty, how do you feel?" he asked, his voice low enough just for her to hear.

"You know," Diane said, turning to look at him, and slowly she laced her arms around his neck. "With this dimension time travel stuff - it's like you're the Punk Doctor Who, and I'm your companion, right? You know that British show, Doctor Who? The watch is like our Tardis-"

"Diane," Hobie said. "Never change."

__________________________

Hobie didn't know what this made him, but he didn't care.

He'd take Diane any place she'd follow. Any place she'd follow, he'd want her there.

Even here, on the curb of a street somewhere in London. Outside of a 24-hour Chip Shop at 3am.

Diane had followed him to 138 - and in return he'd followed her to a punk show. And then to an afterparty, and then to a pub, and then another.

And more and more people came over, to laugh and talk, to invite her into the community. And bit by her bit, her 'perfect' outfit had gained color.

A pin passed on from a friend, a patch someone would pull off their jacket, fishing for bobby pins to pin it to hers. A clover patch to match his pin, an A sprawled across the front like The Scarlet Letter.

Hobie couldn't describe the way Diane looked at him every time, the way she squeezed his hand and didn't let go. But that didn't matter. He just wanted her to do it more and more.

By stop two, she was complaining about her feet. But come 20 minutes, without fail - there she was, hanging on his sleeve. Asking him to leave so they could go someplace more her speed, 'hipper to the groove'.

And he'd always say 'Yes'. There wasn't a moment of it that he regretted.

He'd follow her anywhere, because he knew she'd do the same. And now, sitting on the curb on some random street in East London, Diane had the beginnings of her own battle jacket.

And a backpatch to match his, with her own addition:

'Punk's Not Dead.' 'He's back at my place.'

Hobie popped open the box of takeout, steam escaping as he lifted the flaps on the fish & chips. Beside him, Diane rolled her eyes in ecstasy at just the smell of it, throwing her head back in excitement.

Needless to say, Diane was plastered.

"You spoil me." she squealed leaning in closer to gaze at the sacred food that sat in Hobie's lap, her arm looped with his as the smell of fresh battered fish rose from the box.

Hobie lifted up a bit of fish, holding it out to Diane. "You ever tried this? Can't say you've been to London until you have. Like going to New York and leaving without the pizza." he smirked, eager to see her reaction - that look in her eyes.

Diane leaned forward, taking a bite of the fish without even taking it from his hand - too drunk to care.

"I don't know if it's because I'm drunk, or because I'm with you - but British food is so good." she snickered, stealing a chip from the box.

Carefully, she sniffed it.

"It has vinegar." he told her, watching as Diane nodded seriously, before pointing the chip at the box. "And that?" she asked.

"Mushy peas."

"Mushed peas?" Diane said, part bewildered, but mostly disgusted. "Mushed peas - is that what you said?"

Hobie snickered. "You ain't gotta eat them. I'll eat them if you don't want to-"

"You're gonna eat them?!" Diane demanded, jaw agape. "I was just complimenting you're national cuisine and now you're offering me pea sludge?" she laughed, almost in disbelief.

"You ain't gotta eat the pea sludge, Dutchess. Dump it in the harbor if you wanna kick off. That's what you all do, yeah?"

Now Diane's expression turned to shock. "Don't compare me to a Bostoner! As a New Yorker, I take offense to that." she said, stealing another chip. "You don't see me calling you a Birmingham-nite or whatever."

"Brummie -" Hobie corrected. "Surprised you know about them."

"I don't." Diane assured him. "I just know they exist."

Hobie grinned, taking a bite of fish, as for once - London seemed quiet around them.

No loud music. No crowd, or laughter, no anything. Just them. And Hobie realized that this was the first time they'd been alone - since that night they'd met, four months ago.

And he still felt the same as he did back then - in the alleyway behind the club, bathed in neon lights.

He had slipped into her world to find her - and now here she was, slipping in to his. And here, now, with her post-show hair, and smudged red lips, and blurred eye-liner. In her spray-painted jacket, and a hangover around the corner - he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hobie -" Diane asked, eyes far away. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." he snickered, simply because he knew it would get her attention. Diane grinned, even despite herself, and she shoved his shoulder.

But he could tell, whatever it was - she meant it. "Anything." he said.

"Why do you.. let me follow you around?" she asked, and even to her, the words felt clumsy, clouded by nerves and 4 pints of beer.

"I mean - Why do you put up with it?" she asked, voice barely at whisper. And for the first time, it was like she couldn't look at him. And yet he couldn't look away.

"With what everyone says. I mean - I know that you hear it. And..I'm not subtle about it. But you never complain. Or tell me to go away. I guess at a certain point, a part of me thought that maybe you just...didn't want to hurt my feelings, I guess."

Diane said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"But then, you invited me here. And you've been so kind to me all night. Even though I'm just some chick who shows up to your shows. And, I don't know how to thank you, or why you do it." she said, voice barely a whisper.

"Because I know that you care. Cause I can tell you do." Hobie said. "And I can tell you don't want nothing of me. You aren't asking me for romance or anything. We can just be together. Wherever. And that's enough. More than enough." Hobie said, and to him, the answer came easy. Now that it was her who was asking.

And maybe that was it. "We're enough for each other."

And she was more than enough for him. More than enough for him to watch to keep her around, and then some.

Diane's expression softened, the lump in her throat growing. "Thank you," she said. "For never making me feel like I was annoying. Or like I wasn't worth your time."

For making her feel like she was enough, always.

"You are worth my time, Daiquiri." Hobie said, and he reached up to brush a stray curl from Diane's face. "Don't want you to ever think otherwise. I don't know why you do it - what I did to deserve it.

But it doesn't matter. I ain't letting you get rid of me now."

Beside him, Diane grinned, hanging her head in bashfulness.

"I'd kiss your cheek right now, if I didn't smell of fish and vinegar right now." she told him, and instead, so instead she pressed a kiss to her fingers, before smooshing it in his face.

Hobie snorted, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. Pressing kisses to her forehead, even as she faked a grimace. Because he didn't care about fish or vinegar or anything else. Just her.

Diane laughed, shoving away from him just as Hobie asked "And what about you?"

"What about me?" "Why do you do it?" he asked. "I mean, could have any bloke on any Earth. But you choose me."

And he would never understand it, but he would always be grateful.

For a moment, Diane had to think about it - and Hobie wondered if she ever questioned it herself. Or if she just did what made her happy, and worried about any bridge when she came to it.

Diane shrugged a bit, stealing another chip as she thought, eyes lidded and voice quiet under the haze of alcohol.

"I dunno. You make me feel safe, I guess." She said, and maybe it was that simple. Because saying it felt right.

"I don't have to worry - about you laughing at me, or judging me, slutshaming me. You don't think I'm stupid, or annoying. I mean, you let me wear this outfit, you made me feel good about it. So I trust you."

Because she could tell he cared too.

Hobie grinned, leaning forward to brush his nose against hers, their own form of kiss. "And that's enough for you to treat me as good as you do?"

"I mean, we met when I was shitfaced drunk." Diane said, well aware she was probably shitfaced right now. "In a club, basically throwing myself at you - and you somehow got me home and into bed." And she snickered at the memory alone. "You even put my bonnet on me."

"You were there the first time I saw the Sun. Or a sunset. I guess I feel like if you're there, it'll be okay. Or like, super far out - groovy, psychedelic, absolutely dynamite!"

She laughed. "Like tonight. Thanks for tonight, Hobie."

"Anything for you, Dutchess." he told her.

"Look at you, treating me like Queen Eliza." "Elizabeth." "Does it matter?"

Did it matter what they were?

"Not at all."

Because they were enough.

_-_-_-_-_-_

"Are you actually going to eat the pea sludge?" "What, is that a crime, your highness?" "No, but it should be."

_____________________________________________

Hobie will keep Diane ignorant about British culture, if it's the last thing he does. He finds it really, really funny.

And that's the story of how Diane got her punk jacket, why Hobie calls her 'Dutchess', and why they stick with each other through everything. UUHHHH N-E-WAY I think this might be like my first DiscoPunk fic holymotherof!!!!! I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEM. Let your OCs be loved. If you read this far thank you so much! It genuinely means a lot, so thank you for your time! In an act of gratitude here is Hobie

(thats them im gonna go cry)

[anticomedygarden]

drop the champagne

5 times annabeth taught percy something new + a million times he taught her the same thing

-

title is from the In the Heights song 'champagne' by lin manuel-miranda. mostly a nod to how similar usnavi and vanessa's dynamic is to percabeth. also another excuse to scream about them after watching the trailer a million times

also on ao3

-

1.

Dozens of kids were wandering around the grounds of Camp Half Blood as they waited for capture the flag to start, and Percy could not for the life of him figure out what was wrong with his armor. He'd been fiddling with it for five minutes now, somehow not drawing the attention of any counselors or even the Athena cabin who he was allied with. After the last capture the flag (still his only capture the flag), he was really starting to get worried. If he successfully completed a quest and died because he couldn't get his armor right for a 'friendly war game', he was gonna be seriously ticked.

Just to see what it would do, he pulled on a strap near his shoulder. For a few seconds, it stayed in place, and he really thought he'd finally gotten it. Then it unraveled completely, and he barely managed to grab it before it hit the ground.

He might as well face it. He was dead, and Chiron was gonna have to tell his mom that he, Poseidon's first child in decades, quester, retriever of Zeus' master bolt, died in a capture the flag accident.

Feeling particularly frustrated, he didn't notice when someone finally saw his dilemma and walked over, not until her blond curls were right in his face.

"You haven't figured out how to do this yet?" she asked. It was hard not to feel a little insulted by her tone, but he had come to realize that she didn't mean anything by it. She just hadn't learned tact yet. (And she'd never admit it, but Annabeth still hadn't quite recovered from the quest and Luke's subsequent betrayal. He could let this one slide for her sake.)

"I've only done it once," he said, "and you did it for me!"

So maybe he wasn't too great at tact either.

She grabbed a strap and started redoing his armor while he watched. "If I keep doing it for you, you'll never learn," she pointed out. "Here." She grabbed his hand and guided it to the other strap. "You try."

He sighed but did as he was told. It didn't look as good as the one she did, but he had to admit it looked and felt much better than before.

"Told you."

He stuck his tongue out at her. Then, since his mom raised a gentleman, he said, "Thanks."

She patted his shoulder. "Thank me when we win."

2.

Percy watched, transfixed, as Annabeth slashed and stabbed, nothing but a vaguely blond whirl, beating some brown haired guy back to the mats until she pinned him down, 90 pounds of pure fury on top of at least 150 pounds of startled teenage boy.

The guy - Percy wasn't sure of his name - tapped out, and Annabeth quickly jumped up, eyes already scanning for her next victim. "Who's next?" she said.

The majority of the people in the training room scurried out after that.

"Cowards," Annabeth muttered and turned to a training dummy.

Percy watched her slash at it for a few minutes, and then, in a courageous move he thought would make his mom proud, he tentatively stepped forward. "Maybe you should take a break," he said with false calm.

She ignored him.

"Annabeth, you're scaring people," he tried, gulping when she tore a large chunk of fake flesh from the dummy. "You're already the best here, why don't you just-"

"Take a break?" she said, finally turning to meet his gaze. Her eyes were blazing, and he had to duck to avoid the dagger still in her hand.

"You've been here for hours-"

"How else will I beat Luke?" she asked. "He's the best swordsman for generations. I have to train as much as I can."

The situation was far worse than he thought. "And you're the best strategist, and you've beat everyone at camp already." Hopefully, appealing to her hubris would help.

It didn't. Her face closed off completely. "But I've never beat Luke."

He didn't ask if she was sure that she even wanted to beat him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Fine. Time to pull out the big guns. "I'll spar with you."

He held his breath as she gave him a disbelieving look. "Alright, but you're using a dagger."

"Oh. Uh-"

But she was already walking over to the weapons rack. "You need to learn how to use more than one weapon. You won't be able to use a sword in every situation."

"Isn't the whole point of having a sword that reappears in my pocket no matter what is so that I can use it in every situation?"

She gave him a look that clearly said, You're being an idiot. "What if you're in super close quarters and can't maneuver Riptide? What if you can't get to your pocket? What if someone manages to take it from you? What if you don't have pockets? What if-"

He held up a hand, because, holy crap. "Okay, okay, I get it." She smirked. "Teach me how to use a dagger."

With a certain gleam in her eyes he didn't really like, she grabbed one off the rack and handed it to him.

He gripped it on instinct, balancing it out and dropping into a fighting stance. "Is there anything - oh my gods!"

She didn't wait to give him any instruction before slashing at him with her own dagger, and he barely jumped out of its path. (Thank the gods for his ingrained battle instincts.)

He backed up as she continued her assault and narrowly avoided tripping over his own feet. Then, she delivered a particularly nasty jab, distracting him, and kicked his feet out from under him. His breath whooshed out as his back hit the ground.

"I win," she announced, her ponytail falling and hitting him in the face. Her dagger was pressed against his neck. "You're not guarding yourself enough. Remember, the dagger is shorter than your sword. And you need to actually defend yourself, not just back up."

He made a face at her. "A little warning would have helped."

"There's no warning in battle." She stood and offered him a hand. "Again."

So he got up, and they went again. And again. And again. She beat him every time, but when he came back the next day, he beat the trainer on duty, and Annabeth slept until 9.

That was a win in his book.

3.

"That's so unstable," Annabeth commented, looking at Percy's gingerbread house which, admittedly, looked about 10 seconds from collapsing.

"It doesn't have to be stable," he said. "It's supposed to be fun!"

She snorted. "Fun is for losers and quitters."

Her gingerbread house didn't look like it was about to fall over. Hers was two stories tall with multiple rooms like a doll house and emblazoned with various candy designs: gumdrops on the roof, M&Ms dotting the grounds like gravel, a licorice moat. His was basically five graham crackers in a vague house shape sitting on chocolate icing.

He didn't mind though. They got to eat it in the end no matter what their houses looked like.

Pointedly ignoring her, he stuck a Kit-Kat straight up on the top graham cracker. It stayed for a second, then toppled into the brown icing like a stick in a mud pit.

"Oh, for the gods' sake," Annabeth muttered. She pulled his plate toward her and started rebuilding his little shack.

"Hey, I'm doing just fine," he protested, but one look from Annabeth had him cracking up. "Fine, so it sucks."

"Really sucks." He rolled his eyes, but she kept working until he had a quality graham cracker cabin with standing walls and everything. "See, you don't actually need that much icing to get it to stay. You just need better support."

He made an offended noise. "But that's the best part!"

He knew what she was going to say the second she opened her mouth. "The best part is winning first place."

Before he could retort, he happened to glance up at Grover sitting across from them and couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes. It was somewhere between exasperated and fond.

"What?" Percy asked.

He never heard the answer, however, as the Stolls chose that moment to start a food fight.

And Annabeth's house won first place, because of course it did.

4.

They were lucky, very lucky, to have been walking past the park at the exact time they did. They were also very lucky (or unlucky; jury was still out) to have drawn the attention of the monster to them and away from the large group of children it had apparently been hunting.

"I smell children," the monster whispered, evidently still trying to hide herself. She was semi-transparent, ghostly, actually, with dark hair flowing down her back like a mane. "Such delicious demigods." She continued to amble after Percy and Annabeth as they led her away from the various crowds of people in the park.

Percy turned to Annabeth with a false sense of calm and asked, "What the hell is this thing?"

She glanced behind her surreptitiously. "I think she's Mormo."

"What - like in Utah?"

"Not Mormon, Seaweed Brain, Mormo."

Percy fiddled with Riptide in his pocket. "What's her deal?"

"Sources are sparse and a little conflicted, but basically, she eats kids."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, she also might be able to shape shift into a wolf or a horse."

"That's..."

"Wild, I know."

They made it to a relatively empty part of the park, and Percy decided he didn't want to wait to find out if she could shape shift or not. He caught Annabeth's eye and she nodded, already knowing the plan. He would distract while she snuck up from behind. Nothing they hadn't done a million times before.

He turned around. "Hey, lady! Eat this!" Without preamble, he uncapped Riptide and swung out at Mormo, hoping for the element of surprise.

Unfortunately, she ducked.

"So delicious," she muttered. Her form rippled. "The ichor in your blood will taste so good."

Behind her, Annabeth crept up slowly but surely.

"Nah, I don't think ichor would taste that good," Percy said. "Probably too spicy." Now, he was actually wondering if that was true.

Mormo laughed, a sharp, loud sound. "You have no idea child." She sniffed. "You are 16. What a delicious age."

He wanted to protest and say that so far, 16 hadn't been all that great barring him and Annabeth finally starting to date, but his girlfriend was less than two feet away from jumping the monster, so instead he said, "That's so creepy," and watched gleefully as Annabeth leapt forward with her dagger out and sent Mormo back to Tartarus.

Even covered in monster dust, she was still stunning. He held out his hand. "Let's go finish our date."

5.

When Percy got to the New Rome library, his girlfriend was, predictably, surrounded by books.

"Hey, babe," he murmured.

He knew she had been aware of him coming, spatial awareness having become its own sixth sense over the years, so it was no surprise when she responded with nothing but an unintelligible chain of vowel sounds.

He laughed. "You ready to go home?"

A couple years, there would have been no point at all in trying to break through whatever cloud of work was occupying her mind at the moment, but she'd been really trying since the Giant War to not push herself past the point of no return.

"Um..." She put a bookmark in her textbook and started gathering books into her arms. "Yeah, let's go."

"What all are you checking out?" he asked even though he already knew the answer.

"All of them."

He grabbed the remaining books while she picked up her backpack, and they made their way to the front desk.

"What were you reading about?" he asked. He may have just come out of a day full of lectures, but her eyes lighting up like that made the long-ass rant he was about to get so worth it.

"The father of chemistry, Antoine Lavoisier," she answered. "He was alive during the French Revolution and did all kinds of stuff that paved the way for modern science."

They reached the circulation desk, and Annabeth continued telling him all about phlogiston theory and how Lavoisier refuted it, and about oxygen and hydrogen and carbon, and about his experiment to see what two weeks of drinking nothing but milk would do to his body.

At some point, the librarian gave them a funny look. Percy wasn't sure if it was because of the topic of their conversation or because they were checking out so many books.

Whatever. They earned the right to be weird in public.

"...and then he was guillotined for being a tax collector!" she finished with immense outrage.

He frowned and pushed the door open into the lamp-lit road. "Really?" That was not where he was expecting that story to go.

"Yeah, the Reign of Terror chopped his head off, which was a real shame because he was actually involved in a lot of government reform and other kinds of activism, especially in education."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I thought so." She bit her lip. "I guess the good guys don't always win."

He thought that was a little black and white since Lavoisier was a member of the upper class during a time when the lower class was still called peasants, but it really did sound like this guy was pretty chill.

And she had a good point.

He put a hand on her arm. "But we did."

+1 million

Annabeth shifts in the uncomfortable wooden library chair and turns her page, mind lost in thought. Antoine Lavoisier was an upper class French scientist who revolutionized the field of chemistry; he fought for class reform and education equality, and he brought humans' understanding of the world forward from phlogiston theory, the idea that a fire like element called phlogiston was partially responsible for combustion and present in all combustion reactions, to the discovery of hydrogen, oxygen, and a host of other elements, all unique and important.

And he got his chopped off. So much for scientific advancement.

Sensing Percy walking up behind her, she hurries to read the last few sentences of the page.

"You ready to go home?" he asks.

She closes the book. "Yeah, let's go."

They gather her stuff, Percy not once complaining about having to carry five textbook sized volumes, and make their way to the circulation desk.

"What were you reading about?" he asks. She loves him for that. No one else ever asks what she's reading for fear of getting caught in a long-winded explanation of some complex topic. Percy's eyes may glaze over while she talks, but he never tells her stop.

So she tells him about Lavoisier and all his triumphs and woes up until his decapitation, they end up on the street outside the library. It's nighttime already, their path lit with street lamps and porch lights. There's a chill in the air, so she pulls the sleeves of Percy's borrowed hoodie over her fingers while trying not to drop her books.

After she finishes her spiel, she bites her lip and says, "I guess the good guys don't always win."

Immediately, Percy turns to her, probably thinking the same thing she is, about all their dead friends and all their failures. He puts a hand on her arm, stopping them underneath a light. "But we did."

She looks at him and sees her wonderful boyfriend who loves her no matter what she does, who stayed with her after all this time, who fell into hell for her. The one who would choose her over the world. The one who taught her heart how to trust again. She's not quite sure she believes it, but she knows it's the truth. "I guess we did."

They smile at each other and walk home in comfortable silence.

[talesofourworlds]

@ednaeflowers liked for a Spring Festitales starter!

Her nose wrinkled as she set aside the cookies she'd been tempted by. Only one bite had been taken out of one of them, and even as she chewed she found the same familiar disappointment. That boy had been so sure she'd like them, and she would have felt bad. In a way he'd reminded her a little of Laphicet. Still, she'd known going in that there was a chance of this happening. Her sense of taste hadn't magically gotten any better now that she was in Spring Rise.

Aside from that, being there wasn't as bad as she thought. Did the Lord of Calamity really belong there? Did she deserve to be having a good time? Probably not, but no one had kicked her out or anything. In fact, no one seemed to suspect for an instant that she was anything other than a girl who insisted on wearing bandages around her left arm. It was an odd thought, she told herself. She probably stuck out even more amongst the sakura trees of Cherry Hills. Still, there was an oddly peaceful feeling about the place. Just as long as she was there, she decided, she would allow herself to relax.

At least, Velvet could have relaxed if she hadn't noticed someone else nearby. Velvet had turned her head for only a moment when she saw Edna. A dead ringer for her older brother, that one. Even if Velvet hadn't been witness to the illusion Melchior almost had tricked Eizen with, she'd have an idea of who this girl was related to. But... what was she doing there?

Surely she hadn't intended to seek out Velvet specifically. Malaks were keenly aware of malevolence, Velvet knew, and she was pretty certain that even in that little village she carried a potent amount within her. For a few moments, Velvet just continued to sit there. Eventually, she settled with the idea of seeing how this played out. Velvet gathered her cookies and put them in her bag, standing up a moment later to meet the malak in question.

"...I take it you're Edna?" If that was rude, Velvet wasn't about to act like she cared. "Your brother's mentioned you before. He speaks highly of you." Appeal to that much, Velvet thought. She still had no idea what the malak must have been thinking, or how she'd even respond. There was only really one way to find out, and that was to just see what she said.

[sparkymalone]

Remember how it was Peko's birthday at the end of June? Well, guess who just finished her birthday drabble~? This guy!

A Pekobuki Birthday Special!

Rating: PG, Peko is a classy lady

Word Count: 2347

Peko would've been fine not doing anything for her birthday. She kept it pretty quiet, figuring it would just be easier if no one else knew. Natsumi and Fuyuhiko knew, of course, but they respected her desire to not tell anyone.

Mostly.

Unsurprisingly, one of them let the information slip to Hajime. That was probably fine, Peko thought. Hajime knew when to exercise discretion.

Except apparently he didn't, because he immediately went and told Chiaki, who had inevitably gotten the whole class involved.

And so, Peko found herself sitting in the food court at the mall, quietly observing her friends celebrating her birthday. She wasn't mad, per se, but she did occasionally glare at Hajime to let him know that she blamed him. The reserve course student cowered behind his boyfriend, who honestly found the whole thing hilarious.

“Oh no,” Fuyuhiko had teased her. “You might actually have to acknowledge that people give a shit about you.”

Peko had pointedly mentioned how hard the blonde had tried to keep his own birthday a secret. He scowled in response and dropped the subject.

Honestly, though, the day wasn't turning out as badly as Peko had feared. She had to admit that she was actually sort of enjoying herself. The mall still seemed like an odd choice, but Chiaki had insisted that the girls wanted to take her shopping after lunch. Peko still wasn't sure how she felt about that.

She also wasn't sure how she felt about what Ibuki was doing. The musician had decided to sit right next to Peko, and kept trying to get her to join the conversation. The silver-haired girl responded to anyone who addressed her directly, but didn't get too involved beyond that. Still, Ibuki kept trying.

“What stores do you want to go to, Peko-Peko?” Ibuki asked cheerfully, leaning way too far into Peko's personal space.

The swordswoman didn't let her discomfort show as she answered. “I'm not sure. I don't think I've ever actually been to this mall.”

Ibuki’s eyebrows shot up. “Whaaat? Really?” When Peko nodded, she crossed her arms. “Hmm, well, what kinda stores do you like?”

Starting to feel a little embarrassed, Peko glanced away. “I'm… not sure. I don't do much shopping.” It was true, Peko didn't go to stores very often. She didn't have a lot of decorations or knick knacks, and most of her clothes had been bought for her by Natsumi, who loved shopping. Even Fuyuhiko picked things out for her sometimes, so she hadn't really felt the need to shop for herself.

Ibuki hummed thoughtfully. “I see, I see. Peko isn't really the girly type, after all, so it makes sense that you don't like shopping.” The musician smiled at her. “But Ibuki thinks you're gonna have a good time, anyway!”

Peko felt a strange warmth in her chest as she looked at Ibuki. “...I certainly hope so,” she mumbled.

After lunch, Mahiru shooed the boys away so that the girls could take Peko shopping. Hajime tried to offer one last apology, which Peko acknowledged neutrally before the brunette got dragged away by his boyfriend.

The girls quickly made a game plan (with very little input from Peko, who was clearly out of her depth) and set off into the mall.

They stopped at several stores, most of which appealed more to the other girls’ interests than Peko's. Chiaki obviously wanted to stop in the game store, Ibuki wanted to stop at the music store, Sonia wanted to stop at the weird occult store, and so on. None of it really caught Peko's interest, but she was still happy to be included.

They also visited a few clothing stores, but again, nothing really jumped out at Peko. By the end of their second hour of shopping, pretty much all of the girls had found something for themselves, but nothing for the birthday girl. Some of them were getting a little frustrated.

“Why did we even bother coming to the mall?” Hiyoko complained. “Not like there's a stupid sword store.”

“Hiyoko!” Mahiru scolded her with her hands on her hips. “Peko obviously has more interests than just swords.”

Hiyoko glared back at her girlfriend. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Mahiru faltered slightly. “W-Well…”

The dancer faked a gasp. “Oh, I know! Maybe we can find a personality store somewhere!”

Peko clenched her jaw, determined not to make a scene at the mall. Dealing with Fuyuhiko her whole life, she had obviously learned to let insults go, but somehow Hiyoko’s words still hurt. She couldn't really blame her, though. It wasn't like Peko ever talked about herself.

“Stop it!” Surprisingly, Ibuki stepped forward. “If you don't want to be here, then leave! Don't talk like that about Peko on her birthday. She's our friend, y'know?”

Again, Peko felt that strange, warm feeling in her chest.

“Ibuki is right,” Chiaki chimed in, gently placing a hand on the swordswoman’s shoulder. “This trip is supposed to be for Peko. If you aren't having a good time, you should just go.”

Hiyoko scoffed, cheeks turning pink. “Ugh… Why is everyone ganging up on me? Now I feel like a jerk.”

Peko sighed softly, relaxing slightly. “It's fine. If everyone is done shopping, we can leave. I don't mind.”

Ibuki frowned at her. “But we haven't found anything for Peko-Peko!”

The silver-haired girl gazed calmly back at her. “It's fine. I really don't need anything.”

“That's not the point though,” Ibuki muttered. She took Peko's hands in hers. “We want to do something nice for you... Ibuki wants to do something nice.”

Peko felt her face getting hot and she wasn't sure why. “Oh… Th-Thank you…?”

Sonia, who had been watching the two of them with stars in her eyes, grabbed Chiaki’s arm. “Well! Perhaps we should leave it to Ibuki, then?”

Chiaki gave her a questioning look, but when the princess smiled back at her, she seemed to realize where she was going with this. “Oh… Yeah, maybe we should.”

As the other girls agreed, Ibuki seemed confused, but excited. She saluted with a smile. “You can count on me! Ibuki will make Peko's birthday the best one ever!”

Peko wasn't sure how to feel about this turn of events, but as the others bid their farewells, she didn't stop them. She turned to Ibuki, suddenly finding herself alone with the musician.

Ibuki smiled and grabbed her hand. “Come on! We're gonna find something you like!” And with that, she dragged Peko towards the next store.

They visited a few more shops, seemingly at random, but there still wasn't anything that caught Peko's attention. Honestly, Peko wasn't even sure what she would like. She hadn't had a lot of time for hobbies over the years, after all.

Ibuki was incredibly patient with her. As they exhausted each store with no luck finding anything, Ibuki cheerfully pulled Peko on to the next one. She constantly reassured the swordswoman that they were sure to find something eventually.

And, eventually, they did.

They entered a clothing store that specialized in cutesy designs. Peko had been too embarrassed to go there with all of the other girls, but Ibuki was more than happy to lead her inside. The two of them looked around for only a few minutes before Peko saw it.

Hanging on one of the racks was a sweater made out of fluffy white fabric. It had a hood with adorable cat ears and a paw print pattern around the bottom. Peko thought it was the cutest sweater she had ever seen. She also thought she could never pull off a look like that.

But Ibuki clearly understood the look of longing on her face. “Wow, Peko! Ibuki never expected you to like something like this!” She sounded surprised, but thankfully not judgemental.

Peko still found herself blushing and averting her eyes. “I… enjoy fluffy things,” she confessed quietly.

The musician’s eyes widened and an earnest smile split her face. “That's so cute! You have to try it on!”

“Wh- Try it on?” Peko asked in alarm. “N-No, I can't.”

Ibuki tilted her head curiously. “Why not?”

The question gave Peko pause. Why couldn't she? Surely trying the sweater on couldn't hurt. She didn't have to buy it, after all.

She eyed the sweater again, and Ibuki helpfully grabbed the garment and held it out to her. “Here, let's go find a fitting room.”

Once she found herself in the privacy of a fitting room, Peko was able to relax a bit. Trying the cute sweater on didn't feel so intimidating without the risk of someone seeing her.

Taking a deep breath, Peko took the sweater off of its hanger and pulled it on. Slowly, she turned to look at herself in the mirror, cheeks burning.

She regarded her reflection with mixed emotions. The sweater looked super cute, sure, but Peko couldn't help but feel ridiculous. She was a swordswoman, a bodyguard, a fucking yakuza, and here she was trying on a fluffy, girly top. She looked stupid, out-of-place, wrong-

Her inner turmoil was cut short by a knock on the fitting room door. “Peko-Peko!” Ibuki's voice carried through the door. “How does it look?”

Peko hesitated. On the one hand, she absolutely hated how she looked in the sweater. The fluffy white hood really contrasted with her naturally intimidating demeanor, and she wasn't sure she wanted Ibuki to see that. But, on the other hand…

Who's to say Ibuki wouldn't like it?

It took the silver-haired girl another long moment to decide what she wanted to do, but eventually, she opened the door. Ibuki was standing just on the other side, and as the door opened, her face lit up.

“OMG, Peko!” the musician gasped. “You look sooo cute!”

Peko felt her face heat up. “I… I do?”

Ibuki nodded emphatically. “Totally! That sweater looks so cute on you! How does it make you feel?”

The swordswoman had to pause. Only moments before, she had been certain that the sweater wasn't for her. She had felt silly and dumb. But now, with Ibuki telling her that she looked good…

Peko turned to look in the mirror again, seeing herself in a new light. “...You really think I look… cute?” she asked quietly.

Ibuki stepped into the fitting room, surprising Peko, and rested her chin on her shoulder. “Definitely. Ibuki thinks you look amazing.”

Blushing, Peko met Ibuki's gaze in the mirror. The two of them locked eyes, staring each other down for a long moment.

Finally, Peko swallowed hard. “...I've never felt… cute before.”

Ibuki's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't seem overly surprised. “Well, how do you like it?”

The silver-haired girl thought about it for just a moment before answering. “It's nice,” she murmured, embarrassed by her own honesty.

Grinning, Ibuki wrapped her arms around Peko. “Great! Let's get it!”

Peko wanted to protest, but being enveloped in ibuki's arms was so distracting that she didn't respond. The dark-haired girl gave her a quick squeeze before releasing her and stepping back, and Peko didn't know what to make of the sudden disappointment she felt.

She took the sweater off and followed Ibuki out to the register. She still felt silly buying the cutesy garment, but she didn't get a chance to object. Ibuki grabbed the sweater out of her hands and paid for it before the swordswoman could react.

They left the store shortly after. As they walked, Peko considered what to say. “Thank you,” she said finally. “For the sweater, and for not giving up on me.”

Ibuki grinned at her. “Of course, Peko! That's what friends are for!”

Peko gazed back at her, a soft smile making its way onto her face.

The musician blinked, cheeks slowly turning red. “Wow… You're even cuter when you smile,” she blurted without thinking.

The silver-haired girl’s eyes widened. “O-Oh…”

Ibuki laughed awkwardly and looked away. “Yeah, uh… Man, if this was a song, I'd call it ‘Awkwardly Flirting With Your Coolest Friend… and Probably Ruining Everything,’” she muttered.

A warm feeling settled in Peko’s chest, and she wasn't sure how to react at first. She stopped walking abruptly, causing Ibuki to do the same, and the two girls stared at each other for a moment. Swallowing hard, Peko finally asked, “F-Flirting?”

“Yeah,” Ibuki confirmed quietly.

There was another pause. Peko nervously furrowed her brow. “...I don't know anything about flirting,” she began slowly, “but… I know that you haven't ruined anything. Honestly, this has probably been the most enjoyable birthday I've ever had.” She blushed.

Ibuki fiddled with her hands. “It is?” When Peko nodded, the musician decided to go all out. “...Then can we hang out like this again? Just the two of us?”

Slowly, Peko nodded again. “I would like that.”

Feeling a surge of confidence, Ibuki reached out and took Peko's hands in her own. “Maybe next time we could have dinner together? Or see a movie?” She smiled hopefully at the other girl.

Peko's face felt hot, but a smile tugged at her lips. “...Are you asking me on a date?”

“Only if you're going to say yes,” Ibuki replied with a giggle.

The swordswoman squeezed Ibuki's hand. “Then… yes.”

Ibuki's face lit up and she hopped up and down excitedly. “Great! Ibuki can't wait!”

The musician cheerfully talked about their date the whole way out of the mall. Peko listened contentedly, feeling strangely excited. Dating wasn't something she had thought she was particularly interested in, but then, she also hadn't thought she'd be interested in a fluffy cat sweater, either.

Just before they parted ways, Ibuki hugged Peko tightly. As she pulled away, she smiled warmly at the other girl. “Happy birthday, Peko-Peko,” she told her quietly.

Peko flushed and smiled back, feeling happier than she had in years. “Thank you.”

She watched Ibuki go, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered. As she began walking home, her thoughts were a whirlwind. She would have to talk to Fuyuhiko when she got home. She had no idea how to act on a date, after all.

There! It's finished! And now I have like five days to crank out a birthday fic for Fuyuhiko hyfvioushzfz

[muses0fgracie]

Anonymous sent: You should have let yourself get ripped up by those dinobots.

The memories of the fight that ensued after she cut the line all come back at once. She had been swarmed by the sentinel-things, getting bitten and thrown around like a ragdoll all while having to keep her eyes shut to avoid them bootlooping her, and only narrowly escaping by jumping up into the vents.

From there it was a deadly game of cat and mouse up there while avoiding the ones patrolling for her below, while simultaneously worrying about the red one-- well, "Sparky", before she named it-- catching her up there. She wasn't sure how, but she had miraculously managed to get the drop on the dino and tame it into submission, once she'd appealed to it's mutual enjoyment for violence, and convinced it to help against Cyn the greater problem. And they'd taken out the rest together. The plan had been to go downstairs and catch up before the planet had been taken apart by the solver....

...but what if she hadn't managed to win that fight, let alone Sparky's trust? What if they all HAD gotten her?

The thought of being bootlooped-- unable to move, think, speak, and thus being rendered powerless to do anything, without anyone to help her-- while becoming raptor food would be so painful... and quite karmic. She claimed to feel nothing a long time ago, and to die that way... it would be almost cathartic. It would especially be deserved, especially after all she's done to the person she loves most...

She wondered why he cried out for her, and said he NEEDED her, despite all she'd done to him.

Her next words are forlorn, her tail droops to the ground, and she then sits down, legs to her chest.

"...I know."

[doomdays]

thinking about how so much of the life pippa is living is a lie. obviously no one knows she's a lesbian but not even she has really gotten there yet, but there's still so much beyond that, too. she's perfectly crafted this new version of herself that she believes is appealing to everyone else - this idea that she's always been this popular, well-liked, carefree girl. but it's not real. because she never had friends before college, she never knew what it was like to be part of anything. she was badly bullied and she didn't want to carry that with her to college, because it was her first real chance as a fresh start, so she just. created this perception of herself that she was comfortable with. she met wrigley first and says, "i just tricked him into thinking i was awesome" and the rest fell into place from there. she realized she could just keep doing that. she could just present herself as this girl who has always had friends, always been popular, always been easy to talk to. and she crafts this persona so well that sometimes she even believes it herself.

"you're the kind of person who thrives on drama because your friends might find out you don't have anything original to say" hits so hard because even if it's maybe a shot in the dark from the person who said it, it unfortunately resonates with pippa and she's reminded that these friends she does have wouldn't have come as easily if she hadn't been faking her way through it all. and even her best friend says, "sometimes i just feel like she doesn't have anything serious to worry about" because opening up to any of them about any of the real struggles she has experienced means giving up the lie that's made her feel safe and comfortable the past year.

and frankly so much of that is so aligned with her experiencing comphet. and it's not surprising that it's charlie that she opens up to about all of this for the first time. she can't put her sexuality into words because it's still so confusing to her, and she's frustrated that she's embarrassed herself in front of her and she can't explain why - but she can explain her past. and there is something to be said about the way she has so much comfortability around diana suddenly - she saved her from a horrible situation that pippa is too ashamed to address yet, but she can't ignore how comfortable she feels around diana despite the turmoil of it all in her friend group, and on some level, she feels a connection with her she's never felt with anyone else, even if she can't address that yet, either. even though they still barely know each other, and even though diana is still seen as the enemy amongst her friends, i still feel like she'd be more willing to open up to her about her past than she would be with her own friends. i don't see her opening up to her friends about her past at all if she can help it.

[skrunglebeasts]

i was possessed and wrote this whole ass thing after reading about who was in the finals for @coolesthscharacter

TEREZI: TH1S H4S B33N 4 COLLOS4L W4ST3 OF T1M3. ROSE: Agreed. TEREZI: UNO ROSE: Swap card. Give me your hand. TEREZI: B1TCH TEREZI: DONT BOTH3R. YOU W1N ROSE: On two fronts. Looks like the poll lines up perfectly with the results of our little time waster. TEREZI: OF COURS3 TH3Y D1D TEREZI: 1M L34V1NG ROSE: Don't enjoy yourself too much. I'll be moving on to hand the win over to Roxy. ROSE: Not that she deserves it any more than I do, but I figure it'll be a kind gesture. TEREZI: H4V3 FUN W1TH TEREZI: HUH ROSE: What? TEREZI: DONT M1ND M3 TEREZI: 1 JUST SM3LL SOM3TH1NG FUNNY TEREZI: H3H3H3H3H3 >:] ROSE: Ominous. ROSE: I'll see you later. TEREZI: 1 WONT ROSE: Aren't we past blind jokes? TEREZI: Aren't we past typing quirks? ROSE: Don't… ROSE: Do that. ROSE: It's weird. TEREZI: TH4TS K1ND OF MY WHOL3 TH1NG TEREZI: L4T3R LOS3R

Rose and Terezi exit in opposite directions, not bothering to spare a backward glance. Terezi's chipper mood bothers Rose for only the briefest second before she puts it out of her head. The troll loves mind games.

As she steps into the next room for the final contest, she considers a dozen different metanarrative consequences of this sort of contest and what that means for the continuity of everything. When the contest ends does she disappear? Is she shunted into the ultimate self who's story will never be completed? What does it mean for her to have even gotten this far, beating out even Davesprite. Has the cultural gestalt really shifted so much that a sad ghost boy version of Dave is no longer appealing? And is shs to be considered seperately from each of the entities that embody her? What is she? Who is…

Wait.

A silhouetted figure stands against the lights of the inexplicable room. A single blue light shines from the head…

ROSE: Is that fucking Sans? SANS?: nope!!!

The figure steps forward from the convenient shadowing and reveals a familiar, red-clad troll with a messy mass of black hair. In her hands is a skull with a blue light shining from the socket that Aradia is using to obscure her face. Rose sighs, a bit annoyed Roxy hadn't made it here. Of course this is what Terezi thought was funny.

ROSE: Hello, Aradia. ARADIA: hi rose

Her chipper tone is punctuated by the sound of the skull hitting the ground as she tosses it aside.

ARADIA: funny, right? ROSE: A little played out, honestly. ARADIA: come on. you of all people shouldnt say anything about "played out"~ ARADIA: your post-canon arc is just copying the one i had as a starting point and recycling it ARADIA: not that i mind! ARADIA: i find it flattering ARADIA: after all my old story has good ARADIA: b0nes ARADIA: to build on ROSE: Make up your mind about how you're supposed to sound. ARADIA: hmmm ARADIA: n0pe 

Aradia puffs out a breath to blow some of her curling hair out of her face.

ARADIA: So did you have fun getting here? ROSE: Not really. ROSE: Your ancestor flirted aggressively with me, then got mad that I called her boring. ARADIA: yours was very nice and quite interesting ARADIA: shes both very cool and very much a dork ARADIA: i can see where you and dave get it ROSE: Hey. ARADIA: though you clearly take more after dirk so you got a higher percentage of dork genes ROSE: … ROSE: Moving on. ROSE: Vriska was Vriska about the whole thing and got upset that no amount of luck could save her from being the icon of Homestuck's ire. ARADIA: i dont think thats what it was at all ARADIA: maybe she was boring, too ARADIA: after all ARADIA: how can you find anything exciting about someone who has done nothing wrong? :) ROSE: … ARADIA: 0u0 ROSE: … ROSE: Okay. ROSE: Well. ROSE: Sollux didn't really want to interact with me and spent the whole time with headphones on and listening to a podcast. ARADIA: hehe, sounds like him ROSE: Davesprite was monumentally awkward and seemed to be in the midst of a breakdown about not being "really real" because Davepetasprite^2 was in the running. ARADIA: sounds like him, too ARADIA: first mistake of anything like this is attempting to apply any level of canonicity to it ARADIA: better to just calm down and enjoy yourself ARADIA: but i suppose he wouldnt be davesprite or any kind of dave at all if he didnt appeal to the sad boy loving demographic ROSE: Are you going to keep interrupting me? ARADIA: probably ROSE: I played Uno with Terezi. ROSE: That's it. ARADIA: neat! ROSE: Let me return the question: Did you have fun getting here? ARADIA: i did! ROSE: … ROSE: Any details? ARADIA: no ARADIA: ill leave those to your imagination ;) ROSE: That's a copout answer and you know it. ARADIA: youd be surprised ARADIA: a little goes a long way ARADIA: lets focus on the now ARADIA: how do you want to do this, rose? ARADIA: among the multitudes of possibilities, the many threads that spread out before us ARADIA: which do you wish to solidify as true? ROSE: Maybe I don't want to pick. ROSE: Maybe I also want that to be left to the imagination. ARADIA: then ill pick! ROSE: What ROSE: But ROSE: Your entire continued existence hinges on one fact and that is that you are a voyeur. A perverted observer who has no interest in dirtying your own mitts as you passively allow the narrative to continue on it's way. You do not intervene. You don't take action.

She screws up her face in baffled disgust and stabs one finger in the air toward Aradia.

ROSE: You don't choose.

Aradia's persistent, placid smile widens slightly. It still doesn't reach her eyes.

ARADIA: not choosing is a choice ARADIA: i think thats something youve always struggled with ARADIA: a lot of people do ARADIA: choosing no action at all is still an action ARADIA: existence itself comes packaged with the burden of existing ARADIA: by simply being you are acting ARADIA: your existence means nothing ARADIA: your actions are meaningless ARADIA: but they are actions nonetheless

She turns on one foot, kicking off to float up and rotate gently and slowly in the air, as if attempting a slow motion pirouette. The languid motion controlled and beautiful. It makes Rose want to throw something at her just to ruin the image in the same way a child wants to crack a perfect sheet of ice just to see it come apart. ARADIA: and my choice has always been pretty transparent ROSE: Bullshit. ROSE: Your motivations, your reasoning, your purposes. All of that has always been obfuscated. You hide behind platitudes and more plot critical figures, but you never seem to be willing to show your hand. No one knows what your fucking deal is. ARADIA: hehehe ARADIA: thats just plain wrong ARADIA: ive destroyed more lives to save a single session than you could imagine in both your attempts to break yours or to do whatever it is you were doing with dirk ARADIA: ive been a ghost, a ghost frog, a robot ARADIA: even in that period of time you say i only observed i still decided to fight lord english for the fun of it ARADIA: and i lived :) ARADIA: what happened when a version of you tried to attack lord english? ROSE: Mgh. ARADIA: theres a reason im here ROSE: And what reason is that? ARADIA: same as it ever was

Aradia floats up, arcing her back until she's hanging upside down, arms and legs hanging limply. She's still smiling. It still doesn't reach her eyes.

ARADIA: i mostly want to see what happens when this whole place breaks apart. :) ROSE: … ROSE: I want to kick your ass. ARADIA: then do it ARADIA: or dont ARADIA: either way ARADIA: i think youre gonna have a bad time ARADIA: CUE MY FIGHT MUSIC! ROSE: You motherfucker.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 12

Warnings: violence, intentions of rape

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 because Ginny hit me in the face with a pillow, screaming Merry Christmas. I rolled over, falling onto the floor because I'd forgotten that I was sleeping on a cot.

I groaned, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "Why'd you wake me up?" I complained.

"Because it's Christmas and we have presents!" Ginny said enthusiastically. I quickly got up off the floor, hoping my fall hadn't damaged the baby inside of me. My baby girl.

I could imagine her too. Black hair, alabaster skin, red lips. Something like Snow White really. I just didn't have a name for her yet. However, naming my child Snow White wasn't particularly appealing.

I grabbed a present from the end of my bed. Muggles left their gifts under Christmas trees. Wizards left them at the foot of the bed. Somehow, the Muggle way seemed to be more romantic.

Mrs. Weasley's present was the one that I had grabbed which contained a Weasley sweater and hot fudge cakes. Dessert wasn't necessarily good for the baby but since I'd been putting off dessert for way to long, I felt that this was an okay break.

The twins had sent me supplies from their shop and Fred had included his yearly charm. This one was a crown. I stared at it for a long time before adding it to my bracelet. Perhaps he had just seen my artwork. . . but surely not? This had to be a coincidence, but why was he giving me a crown?

Hermione had sent me books on mythical creatures. Ginny had given me a magical art set that I was going to start using very soon. I hadn't even known there were magical art sets.

Harry had gotten me chocolate, my favorite flavor from Honeydukes. Ron hadn't gotten me anything and I was glad because I hadn't given him anything and would probably have felt guilty if he had.

Dad had given me four books. It seemed to be something of a tradition to do this: A Game of Thrones, The Notebook, Into the Wild, and Realms of Tolkien: Images of Middle-Earth.

I was quite excited for Realms of Tolkien because it was the newest book in the Lord of the Rings series which happened to be one of my favorite series. Of course, it wouldn't actually have anything to do with the characters, but despite that, it was still part of one of my favorite fictional worlds.

Hagrid had sent another statuette, this one was an Acromantula. It wasn't my favorite statuette that he'd given me, but I knew why large, giant, man-eating spiders were on his mind. Aragog was sick, he was going to die. I couldn't wait for him to die either. I hoped all of his children burned in hell. But I wasn't going to tell Hagrid that.

I set the other three books aside and then got dressed and went downstairs where, to our surprise, Tonks had joined us. Well! I certainly hadn't foreseen this.

"Tonks!" I exclaimed, giving her a hug. I noticed that it was just her, Ginny, Fleur, Bill, and I in the kitchen. "I didn't think you were going to come!"

Tonks gave me a small smile. "It's only today. I thought that I should spend Christmas with you guys."

I gave her a huge smile, an encouraging one. Of course, once I traipsed to the living room, I was immediately confused. What had caused Tonks to change her mind? Tonks was supposed to have been part of Christmas lunch conversation. About her patronus changing and her clumsy nature.

I had the living room to myself and I spread all my drawings out on the floor, seeing if there was some sort of connection. I wasn't sure why I was so obsessed with these drawings. Perhaps it was because I loved reading and I wanted to know for certain that this was a real place or not.

I ended up drawing more than observing, adding more details to the already perfected scenes. A shadow here. Another paper bird in doll town. A bee flying above the ocean of honey.

"Those are really good." A voice said, shaking me out of my revere and scaring the crap out of me.

"Oh!" I gasped as the ink that I had next to me spilled over onto one of the drawings.

"Scourgify." The voice said and Tonks sat down next to me. "Sorry about that."

"My fault." I said, my heart still beating and I looked over at her. She was so different with her brown hair. "I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."

Trang picked up the drawing of the room with the chandeliers. "This is very unusual, but very detailed. I didn't realize you were an artist?"

"It's a hobby." I said, turning my attention back to the drawings. I wasn't really sure what I was looking for. "I don't really know where these drawings came from. I can only draw them if I'm not paying attention. They're from somewhere in my subconscious. If that makes sense."

"So these places might exist." Tonks said, looking at the underground library with a glass ceiling revealing another library above it.

"I don't know." I said honestly. "It has to do with these symbols though." I handed her a blank sheet with six images on it: bee, key, sword, crown, feather, heart.

"These are unusual." Tonks said, frowning. "I wonder what they mean."

I shook my head. "Don't know."

Tonks observed the drawings and then asked, "Do you sell?"

"No, I give them as gifts." I said quickly. "Though I'm going to admit that until I figure out this mystery, I'm not giving these drawings yet."

"You should sell." Tonks said firmly. "You can definitely sell these when you're ready to part with them."

I chuckled uncomfortably. "I don't know. . . I'm not that good-"

Tonks scoffed. "This looks like a photograph Elizabeth, just with sharper details and not in color. Forget selling, if these were on a larger scale, they'd be in a museum."

I shifted where I was sitting. "Maybe. . ."

"No seriously." Tonks said, grinning, "I mean, look at these. You'd have a whole art exhibit to yourself for these drawings!"

I laughed, grateful for her words. While I wasn't entirely sure whether or not she was joking, the words lightened my heart all the same.

Tonks clapped me on the shoulder. "You don't paint your drawings?"

"Rarely." I said. "I feel that color takes away from the original drawing. But sometimes I color, it just depends."

"Tonks!" Another voice exclaimed in surprise. I looked up and saw Dad standing there with Mr. Weasley.

"Remus." Tonks said, perhaps forgetting that her and dad were having an awkward moment, in her excitement to show off my drawings like a proud mother or sister. It was a bit disconcerting. "Have you seen these drawings?"

"Oh!" I said unhappily as Tonks grabbed a couple and showed my dad my drawings. My cheeks reddened and I quickly threw the others together, putting the one that the ink had splattered on, on top so it could dry.

"Elizabeth's quite talented." Dad said, a note of pride in his voice. "Though I think these are the best drawings I've ever seen her do."

I blushed redder. "I'm going to go put these in my room." I muttered. Tonks handed me the other drawings and I hurried up the stairs. I put the drawings in a box and locked it. I felt strangely protective of these drawings. I hoped I figured out the secret fast.

At Christmas dinner, I noticed that everyone except myself, Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur were wearing their Weasley sweaters, including Dad.

Mrs. Weasley was wearing a midnight blue hat which was glittering with stars made of either diamonds or silicon. She was also wearing a lovely golden necklace that I'd never seen her wear.

"Fred and George gave them to me!" Mrs. Weasley said to Harry, showing off the necklace. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we're washing our own socks." George said, waving his hand in the air and then picked up the bowl of Parsnips. I giggled. "Parsnips, Remus?"

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair." Ginny said in a cheerful voice, leaning across the table to pick the bug out of his hair. I snorted and then buried my face into my book, losing all track of time until Mrs. Weasley said, "Arthur- it's Percy!"

I looked up, and then back down, but kept track of the conversation this time.

"What?"

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had risen from their seats.

"Arthur, he's- he's with the Minister!"

My stomach turned.

There was a moment of silence.

The back door opened.

More painful silence.

"Merry Christmas, Mother."

I hadn't heard Percy's voice in a long time. I'd forgotten how pompous he sounded.

"Oh, Percy!" Mrs. Weasley said.

I determinedly didn't look up from my book. Hobbits were so interesting.

"You must forgive this intrusion," a different voice said and though I'd never heard it before, I knew it was the Minister's voice. "Percy and I were in the vicinity- working, you know- and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

I snorted delicately and then bit my tongue painfully.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister! Have a little Purkey, or some tooding. . . I mean-" Mrs. Weasley said, obviously flustered.

"No, no, my dear Molly. I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly. . ." The Minister said.

I resisted snorting and decided to roll my eyes instead.

"Oh, Perce!" Mrs. Weasley said tearfully.

Tonks was quite tense on my right. Dad seemed just as uncomfortable on my left.

"We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden. . . Ah, that young girl is finished, why doesn't she take a stroll with me?"

Well, that wasn't expected. I didn't even look up as I answered, "Not interested in the proposal."

"So you do see the future?" The Minister asked. Dad had grown still as a rock at my side.

"Of course I do." I said, finally looking up at Scrimgeour. "Though originally, you were going to ask Harry to walk with you. But if you would like to know, he's not interested either."

Harry looked between me and Scrimgeour.

I looked back down at my book. "But he has a right to tell you himself so if he wants to go on a walk with you, that's up to him, not me."

"So your visions are subjective?" Scrimgeour asked. It was as though nobody else was here.

I looked up again. "Not at. . . all." My face lit up into a smile and I jumped up from the table, "Sorry, excuse me." I hurried past the minister and ran down the back lawn.

"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, stopping in front of Severus.

"I thought you'd like to see me." Severus said, not smiling. I think he was keeping up pretense for the observer's in the house.

"The Minister is in the house." I said, pointing back at the house with my thumb.

"And you ran out here like that?" Severus asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes." I said with a smile that no one but he could see. His lips twitched. "Want to go on a walk?"

"Is that okay?" Severus asked, looking up at the Burrow.

"Sure." I said and turned and started away from the Burrow's windows and farther out of the garden.

Severus quickly caught up and then kept pace with me. We found a private clump of rosebushes that I had discovered from exploring the garden. It was quite secretive and I figured Mrs. Weasley had thought it quite romantic when it was grown.

The minute that we stepped inside, the rose bushes curling tightly across the entrance, Severus took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine fiercely.

"Mm." I gasped, pushing back with as much force as possible. I'd missed him greatly. Our lips parted, our tongues intersecting. We were more tangled together than we had been all year. I think distance does that to couples.

Perhaps an hour later, our clothes in a heap by the wall, we finally sat up, still kissing and then put our foreheads together.

"I've missed you." Severus said. "A lot. Not just for the sex either." He ran his lips down my throat hungrily. "I've missed everything." His arms wrapped around my body, pulling me tighter to his.

It was cold out, but neither of us could feel it inside of here. I was quite warm, as a matter of fact.

"I've missed you too." I whispered, pressing my lips to his forehead, placing my cheek on his hair. It was silky and soft. He smelled pleasant and strange at the same time, a combination of lemon, cinnamon, salt, and caramel.

I could hear someone calling my name, though their voice sounded far away. "Oh, we have been here for a long time, haven't we."

Severus pressed his lips to mine again and then again. "I'll see you at school I suppose?"

"I can't wait." I said, kissing his neck and then stood up, finding my clothes and put them on again. I brushed off a little dirt and then straightened my hair, letting the loose strands fall into place so that I looked much the way that I had when I'd left the Burrow. "Bye."

"Love you." Severus said, kissing my cheek.

"Love you too." I said and I exited the secret hideout, heading back up the lawn. Dad was standing out there in his brown suit, his back to me.

"Hey! Dad!" I called, jogging up a little so that I was closer. Dad turned, looking relieved.

"Where were you?" He asked in concern, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Sev and I took a walk. I mean. . . it's our anniversary, you know?" My cheeks were bright red. I knew that our 'marriage' was harder on dad than he made it look. "Well last night, really, but... you know."

"Right." Dad said, closing his eyes. "Right, sorry, I. . .  yeah."

I put a hand on his arm and smiled. "Come on. Is the Minister gone yet?"

"Yeah." Dad said with a grimace. "Let's just say Molly's going to be upset for quite some time."

"Fred, George, and Ginny?" I guessed.

"Parsnips." Dad confirmed, smiling down at me. He put an arm around my shoulder, hugging me to his side and kissed the top of my head. "Merry Christmas sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas dad." I said, hugging him back and we headed up to the Burrow.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕬𝖘 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝖉𝖆𝖞 turned into Christmas night, Tonks, Dad, and I got ready to go. I had all my things packed, already sent back home. There was a full moon tomorrow night so dad wanted to get the two of us home. Tonks wanted to get back to her family.

Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley saw the three of us out. The only thing I had was my wand in my pocket. I felt quite content, dinner had been nice.

"Dinner was wonderful, Molly." Tonks was saying, the five of us standing out on the porch. Dad was looking out at the long wheat field that stood in front of the house. It was new to the house, perhaps two years grown. It was taller than us, it was supposed to be a sort of defense to lose ourselves in.

"Thank you Tonks, dear." Molly said and the two women hugged. Mr. Weasley was watching dad, who was staring intently at the tall stalks.

"Remus?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Everything all right?"

Dad did not answer. I looked out too, starting to feel paranoid. But I would have seen if something bad was going to happen tonight and nothing was. I wouldn't have missed something so important if something bad was going to happen tonight.

Then, a fireball seemed to come out of the sky, hitting the dry grass. The five of us watched and I drew back a little, wondering if the house would be safe. What if the Weasleys lost their home? The fire started to spread like a ring of fire around the house. No way out, no way in. But there was a gap between the fire, leading into the wheat field.

Then, there was a black trail that looked like a black fireball. It landed near the entrance- or exit depending on how you looked at it- of the fire ring.

What about the security? I asked numbly inside my head as the figure became a Bellatrix Lestrange. Tonks and Dad drew their weapons and Bellatrix dashed off through the ring. Suddenly, Harry was pushing through our ring, running after her.

"Harry, no!" Mr. Weasley yelled and suddenly, as though on instinct, I was running after him.

"Elizabeth, no!" Dad shouted angrily after me. I was hot on Harry's heels, though as he passed through the fire, the flames shot up and I was nearly burned.

I didn't falter, I continued after Harry, my wand drawn. But the grass was high and we started to get separated. I ran in the general direction that we'd been going.

I could hear a voice, Bellatrix's voice shouting in a singing way, "I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK! I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!"

I gritted my teeth, anger filling my veins. A voice in the back of my head tried to argue against this. That I had a child to protect. I should turn around. I should go back to dad. But Harry... Harry was still out here and no one else was getting past the barrier. Besides, it was only Bellatrix. Harry and I could duel her together. But first, I had to regroup with Harry.

I cut across the tall grass, trying to find Harry's path and I suddenly came to a small clearing. I stopped. Well, Harry wasn't here. I looked around.

It was oval shaped, dirt and grass. There was a lone tree with no leaves, probably dead standing at the far end of the clearing. It was dark, and though there was no light, I could just make out the wheat swaying in the breeze.

Bellatrix was laughing like a maniac, her laugh echoing across the plain. I turned to leave and then was thrown to the ground by a Death Eater, once again- not expected.

"Greyback!" I gasped, struggling against his hold. His fingernails were sharp, digging into my arms. His knees were locked on either side of my legs and for the first time, real fear shot through my veins.

"I bet your father's talked all about me." Greyback said, smiling to reveal pointed teeth.

"Ugh." I made a noise while struggling against him, trying to free myself. Something was trickling down my arm, either blood, water, or sweat, I wasn't sure which.

He chuckled. "The Dark Lord's going to be pleased when I bring you in. Perhaps he'll let me have a taste of you as a reward."

I could only imagine how dad would react if I was turned into a werewolf. My grip tightened on my wand and I cried, "Releshio."

Greyback ducked at the last moment, grabbing my wand and tossing it a few feet away. I expected him to be angry, but he was still smiling. "Feisty one, aren't ya?" He raised a hand, showing me his sharpened fingernails, placing his pointer finger on my cheek. They trailed down my cheek, cutting it open just a little bit with his nail.

I clenched my teeth together so as not to give him what he wanted: sounds of pain.

But he was not deterred, he was smiling bigger, showing all of his teeth which was scarier than ever.

I swung my fist- he had let go of my arm- connecting with his head. His head snapped backwards, I think more in surprise than pain. I wrenched myself free, throwing myself towards my wand. He jumped on my back, flipping me over, knocking the breath out of me.

In one, quick, slashing motion, my shirt fell open, having been cut down the middle. But the cut was deeper than just my shirt. A red line from my shoulder blades to my pants appeared, blood swelling and then leaking over the sides. It had gone perfectly down the middle. The only part was my bra, still intact, though the connector was frayed.

He leered at me, "Full moon's tomorrow, didn't you know?" He asked. I gasped in pain, just a little gasp as his finger nail made short, concise movements where my ribs were. They were shallow, he wasn't going to kill me- I was needed by Voldemort and for once, I was glad about that.

I shivered involuntarily as he lowered his mouth to my neck, his teeth against my skin. I could feel the points and I wondered how he got them all to be so pointed. Did he sand them with sandpaper? Carve them? File them? Perhaps he had dentures made completely out of canine teeth.

"How about I bite?" Greyback whispered in my ear, his fingernail, slicing down my leg and I let out a scream of pain, because these cuts were much, much deeper. I wouldn't have been surprised if they cut to the bone.

No one, I thought randomly, should have such sharp fingernails. What a safety hazard. I started to laugh hysterically, delirious with pain.

The pain was blinding, I tried to get air in my lungs, starting to hyperventilate. Or maybe I was screaming. I tried to recover my breathing. My leg was on fire. I could smell the stench of blood, feel Greyback's tongue on my stomach.

He pulled himself upright, showing his teeth which were now covered in blood- my blood. He leaned forward, his teeth grazing my ear as he whispered again, "Should I bite?"

I was starting to feel hazy. Blood loss, I thought randomly. I watched through blurry eyes as he threw his head up dramatically to come down and bite me before he was gone, thrown off of me, somewhere behind me. I heard a thunk. Perhaps he had hit the tree. There was a whooshing noise.

"Elizabeth?" the voice was very far away, but familiar. Kind. "Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

Yes. Yes, I could, but my lips wouldn't say so. My brain seemed to have reached some sort of block. Words didn't seem to be able to come through my mouth. My eyes didn't seem to want to move. A hand felt along my neck, checking for a pulse. Was my heart beating? Was this dying? Who was I hurting right now?

The moon was bright, almost a full moon. Dad should be gone by now, right? Dad was here, wasn't he? Who else would be leaning over my body, holding my face in their hands? Severus, of course. Perhaps Fred. Cedric. . . perhaps I was dead, Cedric was trying to pull my up, join the land of the dead.

Shouldn't I have gone back as a ghost? I mean, Dad would miss me, wouldn't he? But if I was a ghost, I wouldn't see James or Mum or Sirius or Cedric and since Cedric was the one pulling me up, then I must be dead and not a ghost. Oh poor Dad. Poor Lupin.

And my child. Severus and mine- our child. I wanted to sit up in a panic, I wanted to move and see if my child was alright. My eyelids seemed heavy, the sky was swimming, turning orange. A honey ocean. And I blacked out.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

". . .𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖎𝖓𝖏𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘?" A cold voice asked, something was being dabbed along the cuts on my stomach.

"Greyback dug his claws in her." an anxious voice replied.

There was gritting of teeth. I murmured something incoherently.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth can you hear me?" The same anxious voice asked.

But I was gone, fading back into the black again. There were oceans of honey and I walked down a dollstreet. But it wasn't really a dollhouse or a doll neighborhood because I fit the size of it all. I could walk inside any of the dollhouses and throw a piece of paper into the thimble trashcan. The paper birds floated above me.

I blinked my eyes open. Some time had passed obviously. It was sunset now, judging by the sky out the window of my bedroom.

I tried to sit up and gasped in pain. Someone gave a start near me and I turned to see Severus, sitting up, his wand raised. He threw it on the desk. "You're awake."

"Yeah." I muttered, "I-"

I didn't get another word out. Severus pressed his lips to mine.

"Do you know how worried I was?" He asked after he pulled apart and I gasped for air. He ran a hand back, moving his hair out of his face. "I found out from the Dark Lord that you had been hurt. He knows you're pregnant!"

"H-?" I started but Severus seemed to have anticipated my questions.

"Because you had a run in with Greyback!" Severus said angrily. "He's part wolf, more werewolf than human. He has instincts Elizabeth! He gauged your reactions! He felt the second heart beat! He could smell the child!"

I started to hyperventilate again and Severus quickly changed his tune, holding my face in his, "It's alright, just calm down."

Was he talking to me or himself?

I took in deep breaths, holding one of Severus' hands to my face with my own. When my breathing finally settled down, he asked as calmly as possible, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Harry went after Bellatrix." I whispered. "I hadn't foreseen any of it, like it wasn't supposed to happen in the first place. I thought it was just Bellatrix. I didn't think anyone except Harry and I could get through the fire ring. I thought Bellatrix was trying to lure Harry. I thought the two of us could take her down together."

"Until you got separated?" Severus asked, still calmly.

"Yes." I said reluctantly. "I didn't know there would be two. I. . . what happened? Do you know?"

"Your father found you. He and Tonks had caught up to Harry and Ginny. He realized immediately that you weren't with them. He went off on his own to find you, leaving the others with Tonks and eventually Arthur Weasley. He heard you. . . he heard you scream. He found you, threw Greyback off of you. Both Bellatrix and Greyback disapparated. He rushed you home, owled me, but by that time, I was already on my way to the Burrow on instructions from the Dark Lord to heal you."

"Where's dad?" I asked quickly.

"Full moon passed, he'll be home soon." Severus said, smoothing my hair back.

"How. . . how bad are the cuts on my stomach?" I asked, "I mean, I know the ones on my leg are going to be bad, I'll be surprised if I'm not disabled again, but I really only want to know if the baby is okay."

"The baby is fine." Severus said in a soothing voice. "Perfectly healthy. Greyback didn't want to kill you, your blood isn't worth his life if the Dark Lord found out that he had killed you."

"Good to know." I said, taking in a deep breath. "The baby's fine?"

"The baby's fine." Severus confirmed.

"Good." I said.

"What baby?" Another voice said behind us and I looked up and saw that dad was standing in the doorway. He'd obviously just come home, he still smelled like the running wind.

"Ah. . ." I said weakly as Severus looked between dad and I.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You didn't tell him?"

I flushed, angry at him for not being more tactful. "I was going to! But I didn't want the Weasleys to overhear!"

"You could have told me before we left for the Burrow." Dad said, looking furiously at Severus.

"I wanted to wait until I was sure I wouldn't miscarry." I sighed. "That was the real reason. I didn't tell anyone."

But Dad wasn't listening. He strode across the room, grabbing the front of Severus robes, and yanked him out of his chair, slamming him against the wall. "YOU GOT MY DAUGHTER PREGANT! SHE'S NOT EVEN OF AGE YET!"

"Dad!" I exclaimed, trying to get out of bed. My leg seemed to be stuck to something, not wanting to move.

"YOU BASTARD!" Dad shouted, slamming him against the wall again. Severus did nothing to try and defend himself against dad's anger. His head smacked against the wall.

I finally swung my legs over the bed and got to my feet, immediately collapsing in a state of shock and pain. Severus fell to the ground too, dad having released him immediately, to help me into bed.

"God Elizabeth, you can't just get out of bed like that." Dad said furiously, smoothing the blankets back over me.

"Remus-" Severus started and dad immediately rounded on him, a maniac glint in his eyes.

"You got my daughter pregnant!" Dad shouted.

"Remus!" Severus said, not sounding anger or defiant, but rather desperate and pleading.

"You've been. . . you've been sleeping together!" Dad's eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. You should've told him, a voice in the back of my head said dully.

"I love her Remus!" Severus shouted over him. "I know, you still have issues with that, and I get it. But I love her, I love our baby, and I'm never, ever going to leave her. I'm going to protect her, Remus!"

Dad was breathing heavily, glaring from me to Severus. "You should have told me immediately, Elizabeth." Dad said angrily.

"I'm sorry." I whispered through numb lips, trying to keep from crying. I hated disappointing dad. I hated when he got angry at me. I hated it.

Dad sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. A tear fell down my face and I quickly turned my head away, lifting a hand to wipe it away and hissed in pain. I had forgotten that much face had been cut too.

"Are you alright?" Dad and Severus asked at the same time.

"Fine." I muttered. "I just forgot about the cuts on my face."

Dad sank into a chair by my bed, though not the same one that Severus had been occupying moments ago. He had his face in his hands and I couldn't see any emotions on his face. Severus was still standing up and he picked up his wand. I supposed he was going to leave.

"Wait." Dad said as Severus headed towards the doorway. Severus paused, turning to look back at Dad.

Dad looked up at him, and I still couldn't see his face. His back was now to me.

"You swear your going to take care of her. Forever." Dad said in a cold, hard voice.

"If I wasn't already in an Unbreakable vow, I'd make one with you right now, swearing that I will." Severus said in an even voice.

Dad nodded and Severus headed to the doorway. As he started to exit dad said, "If Draco Malfoy were to harm Elizabeth?"

"Then I suppose, I would die, wouldn't I?" Severus said, without looking back, and he walked down the stairs. I never heard the front door click.

Dad turned back to me. "You-"

"Are in big trouble?" I finished for him.

Dad sighed. "I really, really wished you'd waited until you'd been properly married and were of age, but I'm not mad at you."

I sighed but said nothing. Anything that I said would just alert dad to how long Severus and I really had been having sex and that would not be good.

After a long moment of silence dad asked, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know." I said cautiously. "Professor Trelawney said it's a boy so I'm pretty sure it's a girl."

Dad chuckled half-heartedly, still looking extremely stressed. "When did you find out?"

I hesitated and then said, "A few weeks when school started."

Dad closed his eyes, clenching his hands together and then rubbing his temple. "And why didn't you tell me again?"

I lowered my eyes to the purple blanket. "I. . . I want this child, you know? Severus and I are kind've married and I was okay with having a family. But I also know the dangers of magic school." I laughed a little, close to crying, "I didn't want to tell you or anyone until I knew that I was past the second trimester, you know? I was going to tell you, I just wanted her-or him- to be a certain thing."

Dad got up from his chair, coming to sit on the bed and hold my hand. "I'm still really angry with Severus."

"I know, I'm sorry." I said. "I would've preferred waiting until I was of age and also officially married and out of school, of course, but I already love the baby dad."

Dad sighed. "I know, I-"

"You're my dad." I said, giving him a gentle smile, looking at the situation from his point of view. "I know this isn't what you wanted. I know you wanted me to marry someone my age and if I did go older, you would not have chosen Sev. I know you would've preferred for us to have waited until I was out of school before we had a child. I know. You're my dad. Your supposed to protect me. But I'm okay dad, this is okay."

"I still don't think you should have made me a grandfather this young." Dad said, sounding slightly disgruntled.

I laughed lightly but that hurt my chest so I stopped quickly.

"How are the wounds?" Dad asked, pulling back the sheet to reveal the bandages. He winced. "I should've gotten there sooner."

"My fault." I said. "I shouldn't have followed Harry."

There was a paused and then dad gave me a curious look and asked, "And you really didn't see any of this?"

I nodded. "It was like, while I was there, like it wasn't. . . wasn't supposed to happen, you know?"

"Impulsive decision?" Dad asked.

"I don't know." I whispered. "Even now that it happened, it still doesn't feel real, like it never happened. I might've thought it a dream if this hadn't happened." I gestured to my stomach and face. "How's my leg?"

"Bad." Dad said bluntly. "Cut down to the bone. Madam Pomfrey was here too. She wanted to transport you back to Hogwarts but Dumbledore said no."

"Dumbledore was here?" I asked in surprise.

Dad hesitated. "Does he know. . .?"

"Oh, yes." I said, blushing. "He did a spell on me a month or so ago when I started er- showing. It's so the other students and teachers don't know I'm pregnant. Madam Pomfrey knows too, she's going to deliver our child." I was whispering now, trying to make things easier on dad, "Sev suspects Professor McGonagall might know because Dumbledore rarely keeps anything from her. Trang knows too and that's it."

"And Trelawney?" Dad asked.

I hesitated, "I don't know. I didn't tell her. I was at Slughorn's Christmas party the day before break. She was ranting about Firenze and I got defensive. She kind've just looked at me and said 'it'll be a boy of course' and then went back to talking to Luna."

"Perhaps it will be a boy then." Dad said, sounding distracted.

"It's a girl." I said firmly. "I can feel it."

"Do you have a name?"

For someone who had been so angry about this outcome, he sure was curious.

"No. I had boy names, funnily enough. But I don't really have any girl names. Trang's suggested Lily, of course, but I've never really liked the idea of naming babies after dead people. It's seem sadder than it should be, I think. Though that's a hypocritical view because I was thinking of Cedric as a boy name." I sighed. "But I feel almost as though it would be wrong to name my girl Lily, like the names taken."

"Maybe someone you know will name their daughter Lily too." Dad said and then after a moment of silence he added, "Probably Harry."

I nodded. "Probably Harry."

And then we sat there for a long time, holding hands, until I drifted off to sleep.

⬅️➡️

[gender-haver]

auuhhhnhng 🚩(biggest red flag) 🤒(allergies?) 🌈(choose their death)

🚩(biggest red flag): Cade; eats people, even his friends (unwillingly but still, learn self control)

Clementine murders, harms and intimidates people without any remorse and instead takes joy in the act

Kay will sacrifice others privacy in order to gain access to information that they explicitly don't want her to know whilst also fiercely guarding her own secrets - that or Kay unyielding loyal to the point she will bend her morals to fit those she cares about despite hating others for doing the same/similar things

🤒(allergies?): I haven't actually considered my Oc's having allergies...but I believe that Cade, being an unwilling combination between a hellhound and mortal which desires nothing more than the flesh of the person nearest to him would experience a general aversion to anything that isn't meat and bones. Especially fruits and vegetables and could possibly treat them like an allergen/lie about being allergic.

🌈(choose their death): Well, Kay has already died several times in several dozen different ways so she's a bit of an authority on this. And I believe if she got to choose between Drowning, burning alive, freezing to death, or electrocution she would most likely go with freezing to death. She's never drowned but she's gotten close so it's not nearly as interesting, she knows burning to death would be far too cruel for her family to witness, and electrocution just doesn't sound nearly as appealing as freezing. At least you get to believe you're warm before you freeze.

Thank you so so much for sending this ask!! I love talking about my oc's and being able to delve deeper into traits of theirs I hadn't thought of before!

[brooklynislandgirl]

15. Do you have any piercings?

A Will and A Way || -

For a moment she thinks she has to have misheard Cisco. Not because what he said came across as though he'd been gargling mouth-wash with his lips pressed together while he was underwater. No, rather than the Charlie Brown Teacher sound effects, every word is clear and sharp and absolutely his voice in her ears though he's a respectable distance ~the other side of the table~ from her. Such an unexpected question and heard in a way she's unused to manages to scrunch her face in confusion. First, Cisco is never really comfortable talking about things like that. Idle discourse while they're working ranges the gamut of favourite video games, worst comic adaptations on streaming services, the nature of scientific advancement and the ethics they are bound in. Whenever she teases him about anything personal or untoward he tends to deflect with shyness and humour and in a lot of ways it feels like she's torturing him for no real reason. Second, she can't begin to understand why exactly he was asking. Was he considering getting his own piercings? Is he seeing someone and he needs to get some advice about how to work his way around them? Which brings up a more important question which is why he hadn't mentioned he'd met someone? Since when had she been out of the loop and how had she missed something so huge? "Uh." Ah yes, the eloquence of her intellect. Any day now, they're going to come along and confiscate her S*T *A*R Lab ID card and send her packing. Exactly what the Admiral would expect and would use at his pleasure to flay her alive. She keys in one more sequence before she slides out of her chair and comes around to Cisco's side of the table. This is a show-and-tell matter. She turns her head to the left so he can see her ear plain as day, and the four total she has there. "Lobe, and upper lobe," she says, pointing to the two lowest and most natural looking ones. Today, there's a crescent moon with a jewelled star in the lobe, an actual diamond solitaire in the upper. "Tragus" This is the opal stud in the bit of the ear attached to her upper cheek. Then she touches the silver ring and ball on the upper outer rim of her ear. "Helix." Then she shifts and offers him her right profile and the three there. The bar is the first one she points out. "Industrial." A matching solitaire diamond in the upper lobe, then a sort of tribal faux ruby in the lobe. "Bu wait, dere's more," she winks. She never takes her eyes off his face as she reaches down and unbuttons her jeans from first to last, and shimmies the denim down low enough that he gets a decent view of black lace against her skin. Three little aquamarine studs draw the eye to her narrow hip bone. "Sub-dermal implant. Dis one I got talked into when I was small kine tipsy." John had told her it was for protection. He'd held her head and whispered into her ear until the very last thing she was thinking about was someone cutting into her flesh and implanting metal into her body. If she was honest with herself, she's pretty sure John could have talked her into anything that night, and all the ones that came after before he disappeared from her life. But Cisco doesn't need to know that. To cover the sudden change in her expression, she turns around, back to him, and raises her shirt up a little. "An' I always keep small kine of home with me wherevah I go. Dis is symbolic of my aumakua, my islands, an' dere beauty." She doesn't mention or show him the other tattoos. They haven't gotten quite that close. "Now I'ma beatcha t' da punch an' say… no I don' got nipple piercings or ones…ah… down dere. I don' see da appeal, an' hand f' God, as a medical doctor, havin' dem can actually cause you to eventually lose sensitivity in dose places. So if ya considerin' piecings on ya… bits… my advice is…yeah, naw, brah."

[summerxmelodies]

@ravarui said - Special Holiday Ask Delivery It's well known among everybody that letting Shanks into the kitchen usually led to a disaster. Yet the redhead hadn't listened to anybody, if anything there had been strict instructions to keep Melody from entering. It was a good thing they were currently docked at an island and he knew the young woman would be out on some shopping spree. Upon her return to the Red Force, she would notice a slightly burned smell coming from the kitchen. And if she entered she would find Shanks, red hair nearly white due to a flour accident earlier as well as him having streaks of dough and chocolate on his face as well as everywhere else on his clothes and chest. The redhead was waving away some smoke that had been coming from the oven because he had forgotten to turn it off after pulling a tray of muffins out. The muffins were supposed to be Melodys favorite, but they were anything but pretty. They were slightly burned, while some others were still a bit under. They were also very uneven, especially when it came down to the decorations. Still, Shanks would be giving her a wide smile upon seeing her. "Happy Holidays....I guess." He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, smearing dough and chocolate into his hair with that action. "How do you make baking look so easy?? It's a nightmare!"

Shopping freely was a new luxury for her. Years on the run, barely surviving in some cases, had led to her being frugal. Even now, when she didn’t have to be, she still was. It was a constant source of entertainment for the crew of the Red Force and she was seldom left to go shopping on her own. Why? So she’d do right by herself when she saw a new outfit or trinket she liked. She still managed to always find the best deals when shopping, refusing to buy herself anything extravagant, but so long as she was happy that seemed to be good enough for them.

The one and only time she wasn’t frugal was when she was shopping for supplies for the galley. Having good ingredients for her baking was important.

This particular shopping trip was supposed to be for resupplying her dwindling baking supplies, but she’d been found a new dress and hair pins she fell in love with so she was later getting back to the ship than she’d anticipated. The moment she stepped aboard she smelled something was off and headed straight for the galley to discover Shanks and his creations.

She stood there for a moment, eyes darting from the mess he’d made, to the muffins though they didn’t resemble anything even close to muffins, to the mess of a man standing before her. She was smiling before she realized it, cheeks aching from the intensity. “Well, I tend to keep the ingredients where they belong and not on my person,” she teased, closing the distance between them and laughing as she saw exactly how much he’d gotten on himself. She glanced at the muffins he’d made and while they didn’t look appealing, she reached for one and took a bite. It was edible, at least, but she loved them as if they were made perfectly. Why? Because he’d gone to the trouble to make them for her.

She hummed in delight, smiling genuinely as she took another bite of one of the burnt muffins. “Thank you,” and she tugged him down to her level to press a kiss to his cheek that had chocolate smeared across it.