#I imagine this shirt gets a lot of use considering their habit of shooting each other

[doctorwhommm]

Silly doodle for ya:

Owen and Ianto in one of those sibling 'this is our getting along shirt' (because they kept arguing and Gwen thought it was fucking hilarious)

how does it feel to be on my exact brain wavelength this is perfect i loved drawing this sm

is this not the plot of the last beacon ?

[smuggsy]

Remember this post about how Riddler dug up Elijah's body and we just... collectively chose to ignore it along with Oswald? 😂

Well. I un-ignored it. With a sad angsty fic.

(You can read it down here as well.) Word count: 2040. Tags: #emotional comfort #established relationship #hence: canon divergence #nightmares

Oswald's used to having nightmares. He's no stranger to sleepless nights, 5-am coffees have become a bit of a recurrent habit to make up for the drowsiness clouding his mind after a particularly difficult dream chimes in without permission and throws his sleeping schedule off — so much that he often finds himself power-napping through the day when Ed isn't around to tell him off for it.

Yes, he's almost grown too accustomed to Hugo Strange's voice narrating all sorts of gruesome scenarios that he ends up carrying out of his own volition, propelled forward by an unknown and invisible force deep inside. He never really sees the Doctor, but he hears him all the time, he's just there all the time. He tells Oswald what to do and Oswald does it without a pinch of remorse. Shoot him. Stab her. Blow them all to pieces, they deserve it.

It's the kind of hell he's used to. He's almost learnt to accept it's never going away. That it's a part of his psyche now, a part of him that will never really go away — because how do you fix a tattered mind? He wouldn't let anyone try, anyway. Not after Arkham.

This night is different. This night he's assaulted by a new kind of terror, almost perfectly calibrated and specially curated for him. Blossoming from the deepest part of his mind where he'd stocked it, never to be revisited.

And it's most cruel for one reason: when he wakes up with a startle he can't bear the thought of those arms wrapping around him and providing comfort like they've done so many times before. In fact, the first thing he does when he opens his eyes is untangle himself from Ed's sleeping embrace like it burns him.

Which means he's got no-one but himself to count on, again. No-one to hush him through the aftermath and speak softly in his ear and hum a long-dead melody until he calms down or, if he's lucky, falls back asleep.

"Oswald?"

He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over to catch his breath, and feels Ed shifting position behind him. His partner's voice is clouded with sleep and Oswald can't bring himself to even turn around and reassure him — lie to him. He fears if he turns around he won't see Ed but Riddler. Not Ed's gentle eyes but Riddler's mocking glare. Not a warm comforting smile but a disdainful sneer.

His father, standing on the other side of the bed with a disappointed frown. My boy, how could you steep so low? Do you know where I am? Do you know where he left me?

When Ed's warm fingers brush over his right shoulder Oswald bolts upright with a whine.

"Osw—?"

And he runs to the bathroom and slams the door close behind him, feeling his one-piece nightgown sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Oswald, what's wrong?" Edward's voice is immediately on the other side, he tries turning the doorknob but Oswald is pinning it closed with his own weight, still unable to brush away the gut-wrenching feeling of betrayal that's so suddenly taken hold of him, "Oswald, get off the door."

It's a gentle request.

Oswald might have done it, perhaps, might have considered it, if he hadn't looked right into the mirror hanging on the opposite wall and seen Elijah's pale and sickness-stricken face. A dead man's face that makes him shiver.

He shall never have peace, so long as you're with him, Oswald thinks. Some other Oswald. Some other voice that sounds like his but isn't. Can't be.

"Oswald," Ed tries again, and this time he pushes against the door with more conviction, Oswald leans off and turns around to face him when he comes in, to keep him away, Riddler, he's still in there, he's— "oh dear," Ed coos, having one look at him and taking pity instantly. He takes a step forward and Oswald takes a step back.

"No!" he blurts out with a raspy voice. Edward stops dead in his tracks, lost expression for a moment before his shoulders relax again.

"It's okay, Oswald. It was just a nightmare," he adds, softly like so many times before.

"No, it isn't! It wasn't!" Oswald lashes out, hating that he looks at Ed's dishevelled face and concerned caramel eyes and wants him to just get away, his voice comes out just barely, "you did that to him! You— How could you?!"

Ed opens his mouth and doesn't move, clearly taken aback by the accusation even if he fails to comprehend, thrown off by the way Oswald looks at him, stands like that, like a wounded animal, like he might flee if Edward takes another step forward.

He still takes a step forward, though, because he never was really good with physical cues.

"Os, I don't understand wha—"

"Don't touch me!"

Oswald jerks away and hits the wall behind, still shivering despite his burning skin. Edward shows him his palms, a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Okay, I'm not," he takes a steadying breath in, "I'm staying right here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's not him, I swear! I didn't—"

"Oswald?"

"He's different now! He's not like that anymore!"

Oswald gestures towards Ed, clever, supportive, thoughtful, with his checked blue pyjamas and plaid shirt and lack of glasses and puffy eyes from sleep. Then he looks back at his father now standing by the door and projects the thought: Ed. Not Riddler!

But Elijah shakes his head and purses his lips, looking him up and down like he doesn't approve and Oswald just needs him to understand.

"It's not hiiiiim!"

"Oswald, this is starting to become very unsettling."

Edward looks around, to his right, there. To where Oswald's looking, to nothing. He knows that deranged gaze, he's seen it countless times before, he's stood in front of the mirror a lot of times and seen it on himself.

"Os, it's just those new painkillers making you groggy, okay? It's a much heavier dose than the one you're used to. Whatever you're seeing," Edward chances a slow step forward and Oswald finally turns his head back to him, with glassy eyes and tears on his eyelashes and still looking like he'll run away, "it's not there, Oswald. I am here."

Oswald stares at him for a few more silent moments with a lost expression, mouth open and still bracing himself with one hand on the cold tiles behind and the other on the sink.

"You're not... you're not him, I try to— I tell him you're not," he babbles, looking feverish and lost.

That's when the penny drops for Edward. It feels like a stab to the heart, that broken voice, the trembling hands, the quivering lips, the whole sight of an Oswald so distressed he won't even let him get close enough to soothe him.

"No," Ed says softly, his own voice failing him for a moment, shaking his head and taking yet another step closer, "no," he repeats breathless, "I'm not. Please. Come here."

He reaches an offering hand and Oswald slowly looks down as if weighing his options. As if making sure this isn't a trick — which, well. If he's thinking of Riddler, he can hardly be blamed for exercising caution, Ed admits. It hurts him to admit it. To know he's caused this, one way or another. Painkillers or not. This raw incoherent fear is coming from somewhere, however small the flame that ignited it might be, and he can't fix it because Oswald won't stop trembling like a leaf and recoiling.

"Oswald, please," he begs, voice finally breaking and eloquence escaping him, retrieving his outstretched hand and rubbing fingers over his burning eyelids because if he breaks down too... "please, it's me, Ed, just Ed."

He doesn't know what to do. He's on the verge of blurting out apologies when he opens his eyes to Oswald latching onto him with one of those desperate hugs. Ed wraps his arms around him instantly, a reflex, feeling like he's just come back to life.

"Go away," Oswald says, sobs with his face buried in the crook of his neck and starts crying. Edward tightens his hold and hides his own tears in the other man's raven locks, understands he's not the one being spoken to, "go, please. I won't leave him!"

Edward can barely understand the string of pleas when Oswald's clutching onto him so firmly his words come out muffled and nearly intelligible. Either way, he's not about to ask who's there — better not add salt to the wound. Not feed the horror, lest it become a recurrent thing. He needs him to understand this is a figment of his imagination if he's not aware already.

"Shhhh, it's all good," he keeps Oswald in place with an arm around his waist and brings the other one to gently pet his hair, "it's o-kay, Oswald. I'm here, it's just you and me."

Oswald nods against his chest but he can't seem to bring himself to stop crying. Edward rubs circles on his back.

"Just you and me," he repeats, striving for a soothing voice and feeling it waver ever so slightly.

They stay like that for a whole five minutes until Oswald finally leans back, sniffs and looks up with red eyes and a self-deprecating comment on his lips that Ed doesn't let him voice out.

"Come on, it's freezing out here."

Ed guides him back under the covers and tucks him in, Oswald watches his every move like an overcurious child. That cloudy expression is gone, though, and Ed can't help but let out a sigh of relief at having him back. He looks drained but sober.

Mostly sober.

His eyes still dart around with a nervous air but he doesn't seem to find his demon anywhere. When Ed climbs back up on the bed Oswald immediately shifts closer and hides his face in his shirt again.

"I'm sorry, that—"

"No-uh-uh," Ed cuts in, brushing a strand of hair off his green doe eyes and feeling an almost compulsive need to plant a kiss on the now-red tip of his nose, "say no more."

Oswald purses his lips and shuffles even closer, pressing his flush body so firmly against Ed's that they can't exactly see each other's faces anymore.

"Can you...?"

"Yes I can."

And that's that. He settles his chin on top of Oswald's head and starts humming; content to sidestep the issue just for now but unable to brush aside the sour taste of guilt filling almost every corner of his mind.

He starts rubbing circles on Oswald's back and doesn't stop the melody until he feels the other man's hold loosen up and his breath change into a normal and peaceful pace. Only then does Edward slowly extract himself from the embrace, far enough that he can look at Oswald's face.

Red and wet and troubled, still. He reaches over and soothes the lines on his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Os," he breathes out.

He's used to Oswald having nightmares. He wakes up all heaving breaths and uncertain hands latching onto anything that's near for comfort, for safety or reassurance. Ed is always there to provide either one, wrap his arms around his shaking form and listen to him if he wants to talk. Make him a cup of tea or play soft tunes on the piano if sleep doesn't return.

Oswald's always been needy like that.

Having him wake up and frantically keep himself away, recoil from his touch and excuse himself to a third party only he can see... that's a first.

And it's terrifying.

Because He made that happen. Because Oswald's grown to be too dependant and Ed's grown to be his anchor in moments like these and if he can't even be that... then what can he be? What's left for him to be, besides the clear instigator?

Ed closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, focusing on the sound of Oswald's breathing and on the touch of his cold feet and the smell of cherry-scented hair conditioner. He relishes in the familiarity of the hold and shakes the darker thoughts away.

Perhaps he's become a bit dependant himself.

[mmvalentine]

heyy, can you write feysand as something like roommates or just friends but then rhys walks in on feyre getting off thinking of him and everything changes? thank u and your stories are amazing ❤️

BESTIE YOU KNOW I LOVE A ROOM MATES AU. Let's do a 2-shot.

Just Fantasy pt 1

Feyre is an early bird and Rhys is a night owl.

For the most part, this suits them just fine. They share a small apartment and they are never trying to use the bathroom or kitchen at the same time.

Rhys does weights in his room every day at 9pm. Feyre supposes this is some sort of afternoon for him, since he tends to wake up around noon. She herself is usually climbing into bed around this time, but does not mind the rhythmic clanking of the weights. Particularly because on nights she can’t sleep, there’s one thing that cures her insomnia, and it helps to know that Rhys is not going to knock on her door while she does it.

Feyre prefers reading erotic fiction to watching video porn, and this is convenient because it is silent. She has a library of short, filthy stories on her iPad, which never runs out because Mor sends her new ones periodically and then squeals about them over coffee.

Feyre’s summer routine is to get up early, go for a run, then work in the living room. She works from home most days, and is able to sit on the beach in the afternoons if she finishes on time. Rhys works free lance and has an office in the city, but by no means keeps regular hours.

Feyre is glad Rhys is often out of the house, because she’s starting to find Rhys slightly distracting. There’s just something about hot weather that always seems to make her a little more... excitable. And after months of thick sweaters, she’s suddenly looking at her room mate a little too long these days. She can’t remember if he’s always been this attractive, or if she’s only now noticing.

This week the season is tempestuous, and it has been alternately been storming and baking them alive in their apartment. Feyre has been trying to work, but can barely think straight in the heat. It does not help that Rhys has started walking around the house shirtless, and he seems to always be slicked with sweat. One day Rhys comes home after being caught in the rain, and his t-shirt is plastered to him in a way that is worse than when he is not wearing one at all.

“Hello Feyre darling,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Hey Rhys,” she says, ignoring the tingling sensation where his lips touched her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Sorry,” he responds, and grabs an apple off the kitchen counter. He takes a large bite as he disappears into his bedroom, and then emerges a minute later in dry clothes and towelling off his hair.

“Real bad storm brewing out there,” he comments.

“Yeah, no beach for me today,” Feyre replies, and then feels this is a dumb thing to say. She hurries on. “Where have you been today?”

“Was supposed to be on a shoot, but of course it was a disaster with the weather,” Rhys says. “I’m just happy none of my equipment got destroyed. Gonna flick through the photos now and see if we got anything worth keeping.”

He rummages in the fridge and gives Feyre a wink before going back to his room with an armful of food. Feyre smiles at him, then turns back to her very blank computer screen.

By the evening, the building is shaking in the grip of the thunder storm. Feyre is very grateful that she is in the living room when there is a loud crash, and both she and Rhys rush toward the sound to discover that Feyre’s bedroom window has been smashed in. They rush forward and try to move things out of the way as water torrents in, but there is not much else they can do with the glass gone.

In the end, the storm blows over and most of Feyre’s things are okay. It takes two days for the landlord to fix up the window, and Feyre stays at Mor’s. When she gets back, the debris has been cleared and the window is whole, but the carpet is wet and it smells like damp. Feyre collects her things and sleeps on the couch.

Rhys offers to sleep in the living room so she can have his bed, but Feyre declines. And so she finds herself lying in the dark trying to get to sleep while Rhys potters around hours from his own bedtime.

Feyre is a creature of habit. She finds it difficult to sleep in the wrong place, and after a half hour wide awake, she wonders if her usual trick for falling asleep is feasible here in the lounge room. After all, she can hear Rhys lifting weights in his room so she knows he isn’t going to walk in.

Feyre’s hand slides between her legs under her thin summer blanket, and she is now bitterly regretting that her iPad was ruined in the storm. She flicks through her phone with her free hand, scrolling past images and snippets of bad fan fiction, and misses the familiarity of the short stories she already knows she enjoys. She’s having trouble focusing on anything, and trying to keep an ear out in case Rhys finishes his workout and comes out looking for food or the bathroom or something.

Luckily, she can still hear him. Could count his reps if she wanted to, using the sharp metal clangs. She can even hear him breathing, deep inhales and grunting exhales as he exerts himself.

Now that she’s listening to it, she realises that the sounds coming from his room sound a lot like other bedroom sounds. The pattern of his breathing, the little groan he makes at the peak of each extension, is frankly erotic. Before she knows what she’s doing, Feyre’s fingers are moving and behind her closed eyelids she can see Rhys panting for a different reason.

It’s not difficult for Feyre to imagine Rhys naked. She knows the bare planes of his chest in more detail than she cares to admit, knows the flow of his tattoos and the contours of his abs. Has seen him in sweatpants enough times to estimate the shape of other areas too, and although she hasn’t let herself have this fantasy before, now that she’s started it so easy to fall into.

Feyre does not like to consider whether she’s in love with her roommate. It would be far too inconvenient if she was, so she doesn’t think about it. The fact of her attraction, however, is not something she can deny- Rhys is objectively, and unreasonably attractive. She knows he does some kind of martial arts, but he’s not a violent sort of a person. In fact he’s infuriatingly calm at times, and on more than one occasion he has helped to ground her when she is freaking out about a deadline or family drama with her sisters. He’s always kind, and patient with her in a way that no... but this isn’t what Feyre wants to be thinking about.

Easier to focus back on the breathing, the sharp exhales, the image of the movement of his muscles. In her head, every breath is taken by her ear, blowing against her lips, the rhythm matching his pace above her.

In real life, she had never been the sort of girl who could make the first move- not like Mor, who had enough confidence for the both of them. She would be mortified for Rhys to discover her little crush. But here in her imagination it is so easy between them. That smirk Rhys sometimes gives her when she feels like he is reading her mind seems so much sexier when it is inches from her own mouth, when she can lick her tongue against it while her hips move to meet his.

She imagines the surety he always seems to carry would cross over into Rhys’s sex life. She imagines he would be completely in control in the bedroom, unruffled and measured as ever as he moves inside her. Feyre, on the other hand, is surely a more reactive creature, and would squirm beneath him. Her head falls back against the arm rest of the couch as her hand- no Rhys, moves faster between her legs. He is delicious, he is exquisite, he is going to make her come.

“Is that good, baby?” Rhys says in her mind.

“Yes,” she breathes back.

“Say my name when you come,” he tells her.

“Rhys,” she murmurs, as her climax builds on her fingertips. “Rhys.. Rhys!”

She’s so lost in it that she doesn’t notice that the clanking weights have stopped, and that she’s just spoken out loud. Is not at all prepared when a real life Rhys walks into the room and says “yeah Feyre what’s...”

He trails off as he takes in the sight of her. Knees pull up, head thrown back and eyes glazed. His name still warm on her lips.

****

Part 2 is all smut baby. Now up.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[talesfromthepayload]

The Fall (Part Three)

A/N: Soooooo I really decided to just post this part because I was sick of staring at it. There’s going to be a lot of world building used, considering there’s not a whole lot to go off of. You might also notice some video game logic bent to fit more properly into the world. Again, this work is entirely self indulgent, and I pulled a lot of inspiration from Tony Stark. Also, again, this work will have romantic themes with three different characters before the inevitable split in the story, where you’re welcome to read whichever ending you so desire.

Jack had a lot to think about.

Being the Strike Commander of Overwatch, most days he didn’t even have time to ponder his own thoughts. Ana had suggested he take more time to himself, but he couldn’t justify just up and leaving for hours at a time, so he made his compromise in the form of you. He would be training you in the mornings, which might not sound like a break to most, but it was a step in the right direction.

The base was mostly quiet around this time, nearly five in the morning, and it was far more relaxing than the normal chatter and conversation that echoed through the halls during the day. He let out a sigh, stretching his stiff muscles in preparation. He hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately, but he knew that neither had Gabriel.

Thoughts of his friend brought a frown to his face. The two of them had always had their own opinions, but lately they’d been at each other’s throats. He should try to schedule something so they could relax and have a normal friendship for one night.

“Please tell me training comes with breakfast?” Your voice was lower than normal, filled with sleep still, but the bags under your eyes told him you didn’t get much of it.

“I’m guessing you didn’t sleep much?” He inquired, though he knew the answer.

You shook your head, lifting your arms wide into the air as you stretched. You were in the standard issue Overwatch sweatpants, same as him, but instead of wearing the shirt that went with it, you were in just a sports bra. Your wrist housed that same little watch device you were wearing the previous day.

“Never been one for sleep,” you admitted, though there was a decidedly haunted look in your eyes.

It surprised him, if he were being honest. You seemed so young, like the world hadn’t left you scarred yet, but the look you held just then made a different statement. Once again, he found himself wishing to know more.

“Gabriel wasn’t too hard on you, was he?” He joked, hoping to lighten the mood.

One corner of your lips curled up.

“If anything I was too hard on him,” you laughed.

Jack definitely didn’t doubt that. You were quick witted, and he had one hell of a feeling that you didn’t take any shit from Gabe.

“I figured we’d start with a lesson in rank and etiquette,” he said after a short pause, leading you towards a more comfortable, and private, lounge. “Then we’ll start on physical training.”

“Well, Strike Commander,” you emphasized the title, “I’m a quick study.”

He breathed out a laugh.

“I don’t doubt it.” He took a seat opposite you and powered up his holopad so you could see the information as well. “How well do you know the chain of command?”

You leaned back, letting yourself relax comfortably before bothering to answer.

“Not at all,” you replied, shrugging. Then, with a mischievous twinkle, you added: “We could make it a tad more interesting.”

He didn’t shoot down your idea right away, but left it open ended for you to continue if you so chose. You did.

“Every question I answer correctly, I get to ask you one.”

There was a challenge in the gentle furrow of your brow, and boy did he want to rise to it.

“Fine,” he conceded, “But you have to answer too.”

You sucked in a breath and chewed on your lip thoughtfully, an action that was way too tantalizing for the early morning.

“Okay, deal.”

“Overwatch chain of command,” he restated, “What is it?”

There was a hint of that Strike Commander voice back into his tone, but he was surprisingly playful.

“Strike Commander,” you answered, pausing thoughtfully.

“Is that all you’ve got?” He asked after a momentary pause.

You held your hands up in surrender.

“I’m trying to remember from when I was looking at everyone’s files,” you muttered almost unconsciously.

He made a noise, one of both surprise and indignance.

“You shouldn’t make a habit of hacking into the database.”

The smile that took over your lips could only be defined as sultry. You looked up from beneath your lashes, quirking a brow.

“I suggest better security then.”

He opened his mouth to retort, though with what he wasn’t entirely sure. You beat him to it.

“Next are the commanders, then the heads of fields, captains, and lieutenants.”

He closed his lips, offering a grunt of affirmation and not commenting as he awaited your question. You didn’t make him wait for long.

“Where are you from?” The question was basic and straightforward.

He was genuinely surprised by the one you chose. Most people would delve further into his personal life, or even his career. Instead, you went for a question that was fairly easy to find the answer to on your own.

“Indiana,” he replied, leaning forward to meet your stare. “You’re telling me you hacked into Overwatch and found all of our secret operations but not my birthplace?”

You released a breath, splaying your hands out as you did so.

“I looked at files on Overwatch and Blackwatch, but I figured I’d rather learn personal details from the man himself.”

He ran his tongue along his teeth. It was so hard to decipher you. Despite having more information than most people, and far more than you should’ve, you kept personal details private.

“What about you?”

Your eyes crinkled up the smallest bit, and he knew you were reliving fond memories in your mind’s eye. He often romanticized memories of his home too, even though deep down he knew he’d never be happy there again.

“Massachusetts,” you relented, meeting his gaze with something less intense and more playful. “Right outside of Boston.”

“Long way from home,” he commented. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he couldn’t really imagine you being the kind of person that was content to stay in one place.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, a soft laugh warming the air around you.

“Overwatch divisions?” He questioned, trying not the uplifting tunes of your laughter linger for too long.

You were back to pulling your lip into your mouth as you thought. Jack nearly pinched himself at the thoughts running through his mind at such an innocent gesture. Gabriel had been right about one thing: he needed to loosen up and get laid. He was getting wound up way too easily.

“Engineering,” you started gently, “Medical, strike teams, and…” you dragged the word out with a dramatic wink, “covert ops.”

He nodded, fighting back the smirk that threatened to appear.

It was odd, having someone who wasn’t already familiar with the inner workings of Overwatch converse with him. Almost everyone he talked to nowadays were overly interested in every small facet of Overwatch.

“Why Overwatch?”

Your question was simple, but there was a genuine curiosity in your eyes. He swallowed, and despite better judgment telling him he should stick to the same story he always did, he found himself talking.

“I wanted to help people,” he said, voice faraway as he remembered the early days of the Omnic Crisis.

He was so young then, naive of how the world worked, just wanting to make a difference. It was his duty, as well as his privilege to help those who needed it. Until it wasn’t.

“And then there was nothing else.” It was a hard admission, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “War was all I knew, so I kept fighting. Never stopped.”

There was a weight that rested itself upon his shoulders, the whole world throwing itself in his hands.

A smaller, warmer weight settled upon his hand, and his shining blue eyes moved up to meet your gaze. There was a sort of understanding passing between the two of you, and he couldn’t quite grasp why. Nothing in your file suggested that you should be a kindred spirit, but the look in your eyes made him very aware of the fact that you were.

“Your turn,” he reminded you gently, making no move to pull his hand away.

You relaxed into the contact as you thought about your answer. The roguish looks and troublesome smiles faded. There was something so much deeper that caused you such pain, yet he couldn’t decode it.

“My dad used to be my hero.” The suddenness of your voice after a long period of silence nearly startled him. “He was special ops for the US Army, 151st.”

“Battle of New York,” Jack muttered, the name ringing a bell.

You nodded gently.

During the Omnic Crisis, there had been many different locations hit. The United States were lucky enough to be spared in most places, but it hit New York City hard. For six weeks the city was unreachable. Many people thought it’d never be recovered, but one division of soldiers managed to sweep through and reclaim the city in three nights. Jack had met a few of the members involved, even recruited some, but a great deal of them ended up sacrificing their lives.

They were war heroes.

More confusion came with your statement. Why in the world would you keep something like that off of your record?

“I wanted to be just like him,” you continued, “Or at least someone he would be proud of.”

“Where is he?”

It was all Jack could ask. He didn’t know you well enough to try and delve further into the past. A safe option, he realized.

“Dead.”

There was a bitterness on your tongue, like the words themselves were poison. Despite the questions he wanted to ask, he didn’t. It was something you’d tell him later, or not at all, but not something he could demand.

“I thought basic training was like,” you gestured vaguely in the air around you, finally removing your hand from his, “exercise.”

The frown that had wanted to show at the loss of contact was replaced with a wry grin.

“It is,” he conceded, “but you also need to know procedures. Do you even know who to salute?”

The morning carried on in much the same manner. He had learned a lot of small details about the person you were through your answers, but it was very obvious that you kept a lot close to your chest. He did his best not to pry, and you respected the unspoken boundary as well.

Even through the strenuous fitness regime that Jack had laid out for you, you continued with the playful attitude. It was very obvious that you were winded, and exhausted, but the joviality never faded.

As the few hours he’d carved out of the day to focus on your training came to an end, he found himself looking forward to the next one. 

You, however, were not.

Yes, spending time with Jack had been nice. He was good company. You’d found yourself really warming up to him, just as you had to a few others in the facility already. The conversations came easily, and despite the big reputation, he was a genuine man.

You didn’t like all of the running he made you do though.

Sure, you understood it was necessary and all that, but the man was built like a friggin truck and he expected you to keep up. Your wit wasn’t lost to exhaustion, and the jokes were a never ending stream of thinly veiled complaints.

Still, after you finished, you gave him a sweet smile and a promise you’d be back there bright and early the next day.

As soon as you were free from your morning obligation, you nearly sprinted to the cafeteria. It was still early enough for some recruits to be just getting their breakfast, and you hopped in line with them. If your sudden appearance made them question anything, they didn’t voice it. Once you piled your plate with as much food as you could hope to eat, you found a familiar silhouette tucked far into the back corner of the room.

Deciding it was your best option, you took a seat at the same table.

“Sorry for attacking you,” you tried, sheepishly.

The man leveled you with a stare. He wasn’t eating, just waiting, and it seemed you interrupted his time to do so. He didn’t look particularly hostile, but was in no way friendly either.

“Likewise,” was his short reply.

You decided it wasn’t anything personal and began digging into your food, letting silence permeate the air between the two of you. Genji was his name, if you remembered correctly. (And you most certainly did. You were a genius, after all.) He was another Blackwatch agent. When you’d been snooping around Overwatch’s files, you’d found a fair bit of data in regards to his cybernetic enhancements.

You’d made it about halfway through your meal when a low whistle sounded right by your ear.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” the smooth drawl of Jesse McCree practically vibrated through his chest.

“Morning, cowboy,” you greeted, a smile finding its place on your lips.

He sat beside you with his own mountain of food, looking positively delighted to have found you when he did.

“So darlin’,” the look he gave you was anything but innocent, “What brings you to Blackwatch?”

“My genius intellect and devilish charm,” you quipped, adding a wink to lament the idea.

McCree’s laugh was hearty and loud. He laughed with his whole body, and you found it absolutely infectious. 

“Are you joining us for trainin’ today?”

He looked hopeful, and before you could grant him with an answer, another body sat itself at the table.

“She doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter,” the voice grumbled, belonging to one tired looking commander.

You clicked your mouth shut with a sheepish smile.

“Guess Gabe answered that one for me,” you relented, toying with your watch.

“How come she doesn’t get in trouble for not calling you by your rank?” McCree whined, stabbing his fork extra hard into his breakfast. 

“She will,” Gabriel promised darkly.

“Kinky,” you practically purred, leaning forward to meet his eyes.

Once more, Jesse laughed. His arm slung across your back as he pulled you into him.

“I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, darlin’.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, pulling away to regain some amount of dignity.

“I’m never going to have time to finish my thesis,” you complained, taking a final bite of your food.

Your eyes had been far too big for your mouth, and there was no way in hell you could finish it.

“I thought you finished your degree already,” Gabriel asked with a raised brow.

“Well,” you drawled excitedly, “Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?” McCree echoed, bumping your shoulder.

“I have three PhDs, I’m just working on my fourth.”

“That wasn’t on your file,” Gabriel grunted.

“Holy hell,” McCree commented.

Even Genji looked a fair bit surprised. Your question of education had always been a bit of a touchy subject. Truth be told, you’d only stayed in school for as long as you had and continued your education because you didn’t know what you wanted to do. Before the offer of Overwatch, nothing felt particularly fulfilling.

“We all have our hobbies,” you flashed a smile, tucking your downtrodden thoughts into the back of your mind.

“Does that mean I get to see the suit?” Jesse inquired, brows waggling.

Your gaze moved from Jesse to Genji. Genji feigned disinterest, but you could see the way he angled his body closer, like he was invested in the conversation even if he didn’t want to be. Then you looked at Gabriel. He was all hard edges and stern looks.

“Oh, honey,” the smile tugging at your lips was downright sinful, and two of the three men before you drank it in, “You can’t handle it.”

McCree practically snorted, clapping his hand on your back as he did so. Gabriel, however, held your gaze, brows raised in a challenge you weren’t quite sure you posed.

“What about you, six shooter,” you patted the holster Jesse kept his gun in, “You sure you don’t want an upgrade?”

“Peacekeeper is as good as it gets,” he stated proudly.

You puffed out a breath. By your standards, his precious gun was a fair bit outdated. You wanted to help Overwatch in every facet, but you had a feeling that too many of them were attached to their current weaponry to accept an upgrade.

“And you,” you nodded your head towards Gabriel, then added as an afterthought, “sir?”

His eyes flashed at your use of the title, though you couldn’t quite place whether it was annoyance or amusement. You decided the latter from the wry smile that pulled at his lips.

“Impress me,” he muttered, “and then we’ll talk.”

His voice was low, almost as if concerned others were listening in, yet oddly comforting. You turned to the last member of the Blackwatch trio with a hopeful plea.

“Ninja boy?”

“I have my own weapons.”

You didn’t miss the hint of aggression in his tone, nor did you miss the sharp look Gabriel shot him. A bit of a spitfire, then. You wondered why, or even who he was, really. Despite having access to every single one of Overwatch’s secrets at your disposal, you didn’t care to use the information to learn about the people you surrounded yourself with. If they wanted to tell you something, they would, otherwise they were free to their own privacy.

“Maybe I should go see Torbjorn again today,” you suggested to Gabriel. “He would appreciate my offer.”

Gabriel scoffed.

The day prior, Gabriel had actually taken you on the tour he promised. You’d been wide eyed running through the facility, taking in everything they had to offer. Few places impressed you as much as the engineering labs. You could spend your whole lifetime there and never be bored. Torbjorn Lindholm, as well as his friend Reinhardt Wilhelm, had been there to greet you. They were very friendly, and very receptive of the ideas you shared in the short time you had before Gabriel dragged you off to continue familiarizing yourself with the base.

“You’d never leave,” he commented dryly.

You waggled your brows.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Ya couldn’t see my charming face anymore,” Jesse gave you a smolder that you were sure had swayed the hearts and minds of many people before you.

He was met with a leisure shrug and flick of your wrist.

“Oh no, how would I ever survive that?” You drawled sarcastically.

The cowboy in front of you looked offended, and the expression he was toying with was somewhere between childish and affronted.

“Let’s get to training before you hurt his ego more,” Gabriel chuckled lowly, ushering the three of you out of the cafeteria.

You used the short walk to the Blackwatch training facility as an opportunity to scope out more of the base, as well as the little group you walked with. Gabriel walked with a stance that demanded respect, and you could tell he got it from the salutes of recruits you walked by. McCree moved confidently, but lazily. He looked like he had all the time in the world, and knew damn well nobody would tell him otherwise. 

Genji was more guarded. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flit to the various people in the hall. He was on edge, like everyone was a threat. Your heart went out to him then, because you had a good feeling something happened to make him so jaded and cautious. 

The amount of people lingering nearby dwindled the closer you got to the Blackwatch facility. There was nobody at your actual destination, and a part of you was thankful for the quiet. It was easier for you to concentrate.

The training facility itself was large, four towering walls enclosing a space with maneuverable terrain. A massive window spanned one side, overlooking a portion of the quieter side of the Swiss base. The rising sun lit the room with warm rays, highlighting the various training bots that could be used. 

“Jack’s going to be doing your standard weapons training,” Gabriel mentioned as Jesse and Genji spread out on the mats, obviously familiar with the area. “I figured you’d be more comfortable if you worked on the suit with us.”

You hummed noncommittally, wide eyes scanning the vast expanse of the training room. You’d never been afforded a luxury quite like this. Your excitement wasn’t far off the levels it’d been upon your discovery of the engineering labs. The university had been backing your research during your time there, but they had a pretty strict budget. Overwatch, it seemed, didn’t.

“If that’s all it takes to amaze you, darlin’, you should see my-”

McCree was abruptly interrupted by a quick strike from Genji. The cyborg ninja held nothing back either, nearly taking the cowboy off his feet in one hit.

Jesse was fast to defend himself, the two of them passing blows back and forth.

“Quite a team you got, commander.”

You said it with as much cheek as you could, and you didn’t miss the raised brow of one Gabriel Reyes. That grumpy exterior of his really wasn’t fooling you one bit.

“Ready for round two?” He asked in reply, not waiting for you as he assumed a fighting stance.

You smirked, pressing the button on your watch to activate your suit. The nanotech crawled up and down your arm, encompassing your body with a sleek titanium layer as it did so. The helmet dropped and clicked into place, lighting up with the information from your self made UI. 

Genji and McCree had stopped sparring to investigate as you resumed a more defensive position.

“Again?” Gabriel huffed.

“She looks cooler than you,” McCree mentioned to Genji, elbowing him as he did so.

Your eyes swivelled towards the pair just in time to see Genji shove him to the side. An error in judgement on your part, as Gabriel took the momentary distraction to rush in. 

Sparring with the commander of Blackwatch wasn’t something you would consider fun in any sense. He was undeniably strong, unbelievably fast, and he played dirty. Despite you being suited up, you were still fairly evenly matched without the use of the repulsor beams.

It was both frustrating and refreshing.

On one hand, you did want an opportunity to show off a bit. Your suits were some of the most important work you’d ever done, and they were impressive. Getting beaten repeatedly by Gabriel Reyes did not make them look remotely advanced.

On the other, it did give you a chance to really evaluate some improvements in hand-to-hand: both for yourself and the suit.

Eventually, however, you couldn’t take the repeated failures. You were ready to go out on a win, so naturally, you played dirtier.

As you lunged forward, you disengaged the back of the suit, allowing the armor to fly towards the commander. You, during the engagement, slipped behind him and moved in for the attack. Unfortunately, Gabriel Reyes was much smarter than you gave him credit for.

“I’m not falling for that twice,” he deadpanned, turning to meet your blow.

You stepped back in surprise, exhaling in relief when the titanium arm of your suit stopped his fist short.

Upon your departure as the primary pilot, the UI you designed took over the controls. It used a complex processing system to determine attack patterns and defenses that best supported you. Though the technology was something you’d only recently begun to tinker with, it had advanced a great deal, and was actively engaging Reyes.

Some might call it cheating when you, too, joined in the spar, but you called it fair. He was a super soldier after all, and he’d had decades of training in all different types of fighting. 

“You really are Blackwatch material,” Gabriel conceded, backing off from the suit.

He watched with open curiosity as the nanotech dissolved back into the form of your watch, leaving nothing in its absence.

“I am pretty impressive,” you agreed, stretching out as you did so.

Gabriel didn’t look particularly pleased with you, despite claiming you were “Blackwatch material”.

“You hesitate too much,” he finally commented, leveling you with a serious stare.

You cocked your head to the side.

“Hesitate?” You repeated, not quite sure what he was insinuating. As far as you were concerned, you’d given him a run for his money.

“Hesitate,” he said another time, confirming you heard him correctly. “It’s kill or be killed on the field, and you’re spending far too long deciding on how to strike.”

The amusement slipped from your face as his eyes darkened. Surely he didn’t mean…?

“Blackwatch doesn’t really…” You paused, the furrow in your brow growing. “I mean, you guys aren’t assassins, right?”

Your gaze had moved from the tense commander to the two Blackwatch agents, hoping they’d laugh it off and say it was a joke. Overwatch wasn’t a judge, jury, and executioner. Surely, even something as off the grid as Blackwatch wouldn’t actually be killing people, right? The files you’d read had never mentioned killing.

McCree rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, puffing a breath through his teeth. Genji, however, remained unmoving by your suggestion.

“It’s a choice we have to make sometimes,” Gabriel grunted, not sounding particularly pleased with the action, but not really seeming guilty either.

Your entire body turned towards him.

“So you-you what? You want me to kill someone?”

You’d nearly stumbled over the word ‘kill’ like it was poison itself, and not just a long list of words you’d become familiar with in your life. 

“You need to be prepared to,” he warned, not bothering to sugarcoat it.

Realistically, you knew combat was going to be a necessity if you decided to join. But fighting in a war was a little different than murdering in cold blood. Blackwatch was supposed to be the intel collectors. They were the undercover operations, not the assassins. 

“I’m not,” you paused, spitting the word out, “killing anybody.”

“Hey now,” Jesse interrupted, cutting off the commander before he had a chance to interject. “Why don’t I show you some of the places our old antisocial, stick-in-the-mud commander doesn’t know about?”

You opened your mouth to vent your frustrations, but McCree beat you to it.

“Could be good for you, gettin’ a chance to really find your feet here.”

Your pride wanted you to speak up, but you weren’t entirely sure what you would say. An argument was obviously not on the table, as Gabriel had been rather blunt. He wasn’t the person to talk to about that particular topic, so you decided it best if you shelf the subject for the moment. 

Perhaps Jack would be the better person to talk to about it.

You clenched your jaw and nodded your head, excusing yourself from the room to follow the click of Jesse’s spurs. You weren’t quite sure where he was taking you, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Had you made the right decision by jumping headlong into an organization you didn’t know nearly as much about as you thought you did?

Even if you had, you weren’t going to let your oversight slide so easily.

Your frown went unnoticed as McCree pointed out every room and their function as you passed.

Tonight, you decided, you would find every dirty secret Overwatch had ever tried to hide. Good or bad, you needed to know just what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

[indigoelfinspirit]

all of them for Paris please :D

That was a lot – like hours, and you owe me Tharen x Rayland goodies now or gay werewolves I'm not picky. Also it wouldn’t paste right so the numbers are missing. Oops. Answers under the cut because it really was a lot.

BASICS

What’s their full name? Paris Sonata Royale

What does their name mean? Why were they named that? Paris means “Lover” and it doesn't get more accurate than that, does it? His parent's were going for important prince from legend though. His middle name is just his mom's maiden name – They were those type of rich people. Why I picked it was because I looked at him and said he looks like a Paris and it stuck since it fit the Greco-Roman and/or space themed naming thing I had going on, and more importantly it fit him. Royale was just

Do they have any nicknames? Just the normal coupley stuff like “Babe”.

How old are they? He's about 33 when the story starts, and 40ish as of the latest post

When’s their birthday? July 6th

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance?

No idea unfortunately (if anybody has an idea drop it in the comments).

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities?

In the Starfall universe berry sims are descendants of the Fae and other mythological creatures. Which is the long was to say he's an Elf. No magical abilities unfortunately.

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor?

N/A

APPEARANCE

What do they look like? About 5'11”, light purple, curly black hair.

Do they have a face claim? N/A

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup? Comfortable clothing mostly – lots of t-shirts and sweaters and jeans. Hair is usually mid length, curly, warn down.

How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression? Paris is normally pretty confident and smiling. Of course some of that has to do with his former career and learning how to act confident even when he isn't.

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities? Yes, he has a degenerative muscular chronic pain condition. It's hereditary and incurable.

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment? Just a guessing, but probably something like Lawful Good.

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into? No idea... he's an introvert though.

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)? He loves music. He plays both piano and guitar. He also loves running when his health is good enough. Oh, and traveling – especially with Callie.

What are they bad at? Do crowds count? He's really bad at keeping on a schedule. Probably has to do with the crazy work schedule he kept for decades.

What kind of things do they dislike/hate? Being patronized/people assuming/deciding he can't do something. Being left out. Crowds.

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses? He does struggle with anxiety as a result of his medical issues and the way his family treated him after he got sick. Wolfbane helps.

What are their goals and motivations? When he was younger his goals were all music related, and he achieved most of them. Now his goals are all associated with taking care of his family and being there for them as long as he can.

What are their manners like? Any habits?

What are they most afraid of? Dying young. Not being there for his family.

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like? So Paris is a rich kid. The big multi-generational family company, and he disappointed everyone by becoming a professional musician (right up until he started winning awards and they changed their minds). He actually had a happy childhood. Despite being rich, he had a mostly normal childhood with loving parents and a large extended family. Super rare for one of my main characters. It's mostly just him and Elio on the normal childhood thing.

What’s their family like? Paris' family situation is strained now. For most of his life he had a pretty good relationship with everyone, but after he got sick, particularly after the diagnosis, the situation wasn't so great. They were very overprotective of him and controlling, so he lost his independence. Paris didn't take it well, so he left which strained his relationship with his family. His parents both passed away before he and Callie got together. He's on a “Solstice cards and birthday phone calls” basis with his extended family. So the Aunts and Uncles and cousins on his side know about Callie and the kids even if they never met them.

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold? He's a platinum record artist and Siren award wining artist and composer.

How do they fit into their “story”? Someone will have to explain this to me, but if I had to guess what was intended: He's the main love interest.

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like? Lorelei Island, Nixieberg. In a small and chaotic little vacation home on a cliff near the beach.

How do they eventually die? SPOILERS! Can't have that.

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend? Ares Morrigan from his band is his best friend (we'll see him eventually). And Callie, of course.

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it? He and Ares are definitely the partners in crime type. They work really well together, but loose track of time easily. They feed of each other's creativity. It's part of what made Sons of Jupiter such a great band.

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids? Love life: Very good, though occasionally hard. He and Callie are very affectionate. Kids: 3 kids together and 1 from Callie's previous relationship.

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust? Not sure about the look up to part, but he trusts Ares and Callie, though Callie's tested that recently.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies? Not worth the energy, though he isn't particularly fond of Callie's father or the ex who stalked her (note: the ex that chased her away from home is not Rusty or O).

Do they have any pets? Wolfbane, the Shepherd of Chaos.

Are they good with kids? Animals? He's very good with kids and animals. He loves spending time and playing with them.

FUN FACTS

Which tropes do they fit? Which archetypes? He's very much the hurt guy who has given up on relationships and then finds the right girl and becomes totally sappy.

Do they play any instruments? Sports? Instruments: Piano and Guitar well, dabbles in anything else he can get his hands on. Sports: Running. He swims a bit too, but running is his big thing.

What are some items they always carry? His phone and his faithful dog.

Do they collect anything? Fans from the looks of things – pretty sure he's more popular than Callie is. On a more serious note the only collection he really had in game was pictures of his family (mostly Callie) and sheet musics for songs he wrote.

What position do they sleep in? Cuddled up with Callie.

Which emoji would they use the most? The happy crying face and probably the kissing face.

What languages do they speak? Shoot I never named the languages. Um, so he knows how to say phrases in several languages for work – you know stuff like “hello”, “How do you like the show?” “Thanks for coming out”.

What’s their favorite expletive? Probably fuck since it has so many uses, though he can't really say it now that there are always kids around.

What’s their favorite candle scent? Not really the scented candle type, but whatever Callie buys.

What songs remind you of them? …. I really should create character playlists so I can answer these, huh?

Which animal would you say represents them? A wolf. Everyone associates them with loners, but their really pack animals.

What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into? Oh, he was the guy who was always playing/listening/talking about music. The garage band rocker.

What would their favorite ride at an amusement park be? Okay so if you ask me about amusement park rides I will relate them with Disney attractions. I would imagine Paris loving things like the Three Cabelleros or Small World where he gets to laugh about how they interpreted the different cultures and places he's seen in person.

Do they believe in aliens? Ghosts? Reincarnation or something else? He wouldn't rule them out.

Do they follow any religions/gods? Do they celebrate holidays? Okay, so lore time Berries are mythological creatures and all those myths – Greco-Roman, Celtic, Nordic etc – are their histories. So it gets a bit confusing, but it's definitely a pantheon situation. Paris isn't overly religious though, so he generally believes in the Fates, like most Berries, but doesn't really practice the religion. He does celebrate stuff like Solstice (Winterfest), and Love Day which is of course associated with Aphrodite.

[demonicintegrity]

Imagine the Underfrogs being on the edge of Mod frog territory months after they're exile, and being confronted by a patrol or former colleagues. Imagine the patrol deciding to have a little fun with the so called Mistakes of Mod frog society. Imagine the Underfrogs kicking the ever living hell out of them, not only defending themselves, but eachother as well, and proving just how tough they are without Mod Frog society holding them back from their true potential.

Ohohoho, action with a dash of angst? Letting the frogs go stupid go crazy sounds absolutely great right about now.

Anon this is my type of prompt! I can’t *not* try to make a drabble outta this. I say, having no experience writing fight scenes whatsoever.

The group wasn’t sure why or how they were back on the edge of familiar territory, but the group was. It seemed like forever ago when they could consider it their territory, patrolling it with dragonflies hitched to cars, and wearing suits they kept in top shape.

It wasn’t like that anymore though and that brought bitter feelings as the group squatted in an alleyway; resting and trying to gather their thoughts. Truly was an odd feeling, being back in town.

Jamack frowned at his shoes. Even though his tie wasn’t the only one cut that day, it always did feel like a majority of the blame fell onto him. After all, he was leading the group on the assignment. An assignment he went out of his way for. It cost them all everything they ever knew.

Jamack looked up at the other two in his “underfrogs” group. It was a name Kipo had given the trio, wordplay on the “underdogs” trope humans were familiar with. It was something about people who seemed like losers rising to the top anyways. It made a faint smile pull on his lips.

Kwat was squatting besides him, for a moment it struck Jamack that they were much closer now than they were back with the Mod Frogs. Both literally and metaphorically, Mod Frogs never really got close to each other’s personal space. Yet here she was squatting practically shoulder to shoulder with him and he was okay with it. She had ditched her jacket and tie long ago, yet kept her dress shirt, it was still in good condition despite everything.

Jamack also kept himself in good condition. Sure his suit jacket was a bit torn still, but he kept it tied around his waist anyways. His shirt was still good, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like Kwat. His pants were a bit worn, but he wasn’t worried about them, they were built to last anyways.

Harris was across from him, squatting on top of a dumpster. He practically threw the Mod Frog dress code out of the window. He also ditched the jacket, but more noticeable was the fact that his shirt sleeves were torn off. It left a messy edge, jagging out. Harris said one was torn off in a scuffle and he just tore off the other one because having just one was weird. He also unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and rolled up his pants to his knees to avoid them being snagged in branches he was constantly jumping to and from.. It was certainly... A look. Jamack figured there was no way to ever guess he was once a Mod Frog, but he supposed that was partially the point. It took some time but Harris really warmed up to throwing the Mod Frog identity out of the window, thriving without it really.

Jamack caught himself starring at the vivid colors all over his body and turned away. He seems to have embraced all his “oddities” and it honestly made him look dangerous when he was dashing from the treetops. The bright colors screaming “watch out” when it was all he could catch a glimpse of while Harris is up in tree. He was truly threatening in a new way.

Not to say he and Kwat weren’t. Ignoring the fact how they all were always exceptional at their jobs and always defeated any foe with athletic precision, spending months in unfamiliar and dangerous territory really made the three of them get better at defending themselves. It reflected in their new appearances in a way. Kwat ditching her jacket allowed her shirt to show just how much of powerhouse she was. Harris’ torn sleeves gave him a new edge that reflected the rather feral energy he was regularly exerting, and with Jamack? He suppose rolling up his own sleeves showed just how ready he was to throw himself into fight if need be.

This group of underfrogs were certainly a force to be reckoned with. It made Jamack smile. Despite being exiled he couldn’t be happier being with these two. These two he’s learned to call his friends and treat like a family. He would’ve never guessed that it would make him so happy.

“Oh, there’s no way.”

Jamack’s inner thoughts and reflections was broken by a voice at the front of the ally. The three snapped their eyes at the sudden break in city quiet. Three frogs stood at ally opening, with one leader in front.

“Y’know, I know better than to have expectations when looking into alleys of this part, but this?” The frog gestured at the group with a wave of her hand. “Is just rich.”

The underfrogs stole glances at each other while the opposing group chuckled. Her voice was familiar and the outfits said Mod Frogs, surely it wasn’t...?

“Yvonne?” Harris questioned as he scanned the group, knowing he’s seen their faces before and trying so hard to place the names of the frogs flanking her.

“Oh goodie, you remember me. Red-eyed freak.”

The group bristle and stood up. The two frogs flanking her stood at the ready with the movement. This wasn’t going to be a friendly reunion in the slightest.

“What the hell are you three disgraces doing here anyways? It’s not enough you couldn’t have died, you just had to come onto our turf?” She put her hands on her hips.

”We’re just passing through.” Jamack said. Yvonne always had a habit to give a bite with her words, but Jamack was not gonna let that phase him.

“Ridiculous.” She snorted. “You should know better than to come even close to here.”

“Or what?” Harris spat out. Jamack figured he was remembering all the crap she used to speak of him when he wasn’t around. She did that a lot. Did that for practically anyone she didn’t like, though the underfrogs were regular targets back in the day.

She laughed. “Don’t even talk to me Harris. You look ridiculous. It was one thing to be around with those freakish eyes, but to have your shirt torn to match? Do have any shame? All it does is look like shit and show those weird colors you have. Couldn’t you have spared us the rest of your gross body?”

“That’s enough Yvonne.” Jamack stepped forward. “You could’ve just told us to leave instead of being so bitchy about it.”

“Aaaww~ The weirdo has gone soft for the freak.” She cooed with a smile.

Jamack grit his teeth as Kwat made a point to straighten up and shoot daggers from behind him. Harris held his new-and-improved bat with nails and spikes in front of him to make a point.

“Yvonne look.” The frog to her left spoke. “Even Kwat’s mad.” He chuckled.

“Aw~ Mad I’m insulting your little friends Kwat?” Seems like she’s taking jabs at everyone today. “Gross. Of course the freaks would stick together.”

“Are you done?” Jamack said, making no effort to hide his growing anger.

“You know, I really could be Jamack.” She smiled. “But that’s not fun. Plus, you three deserve every bit of insult I throw at you for being utter shameful pieces of shit-”

“That’s enough!” Jamack shouted. “You’ve made your point.”

The Mod Frogs raised their nonexistent eyebrows and chuckles.

“Getting mad Jamack~?” The frog from before spoke. “What, can’t take the truth? That you’ve disgraced yourselves?”

“It’s not like that.” Harris growled out.

“Then what is it like?” He spat back. “You failed. Got tricked. Fucked up so much at the pond with the mega bunny. You certainly weren’t being proper Mod Frogs. We’d never let that slide.”

“Fat chance!”

“You’re full of it.”

“Bullshit.”

The underfrogs were quick to not buy their confidence. They didn’t know what exactly went on that day. They doubted they would’ve done better. Those assholes were just talking themselves up and trying to put them down.

“Bold words coming from three disgraces.” Yvonne bit back, finally getting irritated. “You three really should’ve died out there, would’ve saved yourselves the trouble of embarrassing yourselves more.”

“The only embarrassment here is the frog being all talk and no bite our whole lives.” Kwat spoke up, letting a smile seep through.

It makes both sides pause for a moment.

“Excuse me!?” Yvonne was livid at the accusation.

The underfrogs smiled.

“Well yea. You’ve been running your mouth this entire time.” Harris grinned.

“Some Mod Frogs you are.” Jamack said with a chuckled. “I remember when we would’ve have outsiders captured or driven out within minutes of finding them, not spending time shooting the breeze. Or did things change when we left? Shame. Would’ve made most of my assignments a lot easier.”

Jamack was thrilled to see he was pissing off his former colleagues. Seems like Kwat and Harris were enjoying themselves too, judging by how much they’re snickering when Yvonne’s face brightly flushes and the other two had their mouths agape in shock.

“You got a lot of nerve Jamack.” Yvonne said, unsheathing her two daggers. “We can run you out easily.”

“Uh huh.” He tapped his foot. “Sure.”

“What, don’t believe us?”

“Considering you’re doing the thing where you talk a lot of shit but don’t actually do anything again? Yeah no, I’m not exactly threatened by you at this moment.”

“You should be.” Her tone takes a dark turn. “We could easily kill you three and you know it.”

As if to prove her point, the flanking frogs pull out their weapons. A mace and a metal staff. If the underfrogs weren’t on edge before, they were now. They’re confident in their skills and all, but Harris is the only one with a weapon at the moment.

“Really?” Jamack spoke carefully as he analyzed their positions to assess he and his friends’ options here. No matter what, there was going to be a fight.

“Really.” She said. “And we should.”

“Yea!”

“That’ll be some real fun, make up for what they did.”

It seems the Mod Frogs are itching for a fight now.

“It’s not like you’d be a challenge.” Yvonne said, letting her smile come back. “You losers were always odd. It was miracle you lasted into adulthood anyways. Weak and pathetic as you all are.”

“Still talking Yvonne.” Jamack said as he readied himself for the inevitable fight. “Feel free to put your money where your mouth is any day now.”

“Why you little-”

Yvonne lunged forward for Jamack but was intercepted by Harris’ bat smashing right into her jaw. It threw her to the wall as he readied himself for the other two frogs. The two went for Harris but the one with the mace was met with Kwat’s fist to the face and the other with Jamack’s tongue.

Jamack pulled the one with a staff back from Harris and kneed the frog in the side. Releasing his tongue’s grip on him, he then side-stepped to avoid being struck by the staff. The frog was moving fast, Jamack will give him that, rapidly swinging the staff trying to land a hit, but Jamack was too quick on his feet. Dodging wasn’t enough though, he wanted to teach these punks a lesson. It was one thing to be territorial, but another to try and take personal jabs at him and his pack.

Catching the staff after swing, Jamack pulled on it to bring the frog off his balance and deck him as hard as he could. Using the blow to the face as leverage, he wrenches the staff out of his grip and shoves him to the side. He shifts his focus upwards onto his friends. Kwat and Harris have their attention on the one swinging his mace about. At the corner of his eye Jamack sees Yvonne getting up from the wall.

“Harris!”

Hearing his name causes Harris to look back and dodge the blades just in time. Instead of swinging in retaliation he opts to jump over to get on the fire escape. Jamack watches as the sudden leap confuses Yvonne and takes his chance to strike. Using the staff to push himself forward with a vault he shoots out to kick her with both his legs. Stepping back as his land he swings the staff forward and upward to catch her head as she lifts herself up. He readies for another blow until the mace coming towards his head causes him to jump back.

Barely after registering the mace Jamack hears Harris let out a battle cry as he launches himself at the frog behind him. Not letting the battle noises behind him distract him, he shoots the staff out at his attacker with a mace, who manages to side step away from the staff only to be punched in the head by Kwat. Before he could swing the Mace at her, Jamack takes his opportunity to hit him in the side as hard as he could with the staff.

Judging by the pained cry, Jamack knows that one should leave a nice bruise.

“She’s up!” Kwat grunts out as she moves to strike the frog again.

Jamack turns and blocks the two blades coming at him with swings of the staff. He repeats the circling movement between hands as she keeps trying to land blows on him. He backs up but his eyes never leave the movement coming for him. The sound of a frog sliding across broken pavement tells him Harris got one helluva blow in. He smirks as he knows Harris is coming up behind him for another leap.

“Who’s pathetic now Yvonne?” His smile grows as he watched the already bruised Mod Frog get even more mad.

He’s right about Harris; there’s a flash of orange and blue that streaks over him as the tree frog aims his bat for Yvonne’s head. She quick enough to take her own jump back, just barely saving her head from what probably would be from a concussive blow. Jamack winced as he heard the bat collide with the weak pavement, sending bits upward but turns his attention back to the frog Kwat is dealing with.

He takes a moment to assess how occupied the frog is with Kwat and seeing he can easily make a move, he does so. Pushing forward he lands a blow on the frog’s eye, not doubting how obvious of a shiner that’s going to make, and smiling as the frog lets go of his mace. Kwat shoots her hand forward without hesitation to grab it and bring the spiked ball towards the frog in one smooth motion, shoving him to ground while undoubtedly tearing some of his suit.

The grunt of Harris pulls the attention of the two away from the frog on the ground onto him. His bat is locked with Yvonne’s daggers as he kicks away the now unarmed frog trying to land a blow on him. The kick only knocks the frog off his balance, which isn’t enough to stop him from coming back.

“I got Yvonne if you got him.” Jamack shifts his weight to get ready to jump.

“Deal.” Kwat said a smile as she swung the mace around her head, no doubt happy to have her favored weapon back in her use.

Jamack jumps to the wall beside Harris and Yvonne as Kwat lunges for the unarmed frog. He kicks off the wall to get behind her and swings the staff. She turns and takes the blow in her side, but lunges a swipe at Jamack before side stepping out from in between the two frogs. She takes but a moment to plan her next move. She jumps onto Jamack only to be met with the staff blocking her. Using that as leverage she jumps up with the intent to get over Harris and strike his back.

Only having to give Harris a jerk of the head to warn him, Jamack watches as Harris swings his bat to collide with her shoulder and use the momentum to push her to the ground. She hits the ground and tumbles. Jamack doesn’t miss how Harris grins upon seeing how he bloodies another frog. He doesn’t pay much mind to it as he’s vaulting with the staff again to kick at the frog that Kwat just stole the mace from rushing at them. Not breaking his stride that easily, Jamack swings the staff at the frog. They dodge that blow and the next as he tries to close the gap between him and Jamack.

He’s met with Harris’ bat to the side knocking him off balance. While Harris turns to refocus on Yvonne, Jamack takes a couple more blows at the frog, landing a few and successfully bruising the other frog. Just as he gets into a rhythm he shifts and shoves the staff to successfully jab at the frogs throat. The noise he makes in pain makes his own throat feel something. Ignoring the urge to rub at his throat his pushes forward to keep swinging.

“So much for us being the shameful ones.” He smirks as he lands another blow. “You’ve barely done anything to us!”

He hears Harris laugh from behind him. It spurs him on and gives an extra flair to his attacks. This was honestly too easy!

“Incoming!”

As if to physically prevent him from getting too cocky, the now severely bloodied frog he stole the staff from was launching his tongue at him. Easily side stepping the muscle, he rushes forward to strike the poor frog on the head. Hitting his mark, he takes the opportunity to his fist to deck him square in the nose. It knocked the frog back, likely seeing stars from the two blows.

“I think we’re making a mess here.” Jamack says with a smile as he surveys the two weaponless frogs. “We’re being absolutely brutal.”

“Savages!” Yvonne spits out as she dodges a blow from Harris only to have to side step another one from Kwat.

“Nah.” Jamack says as he steps closer to her.

Surrounded and with her back towards the wall, Jamack easily reads her eyes looking around as panic setting in.

“I think we deserve this.” He grins.

“Y’know, one could make the argument that the truly savage act was kicking out three frogs who only did their best for the pond.” Harris said as he bounced his bat in his hand.

“Mhm.” Kwat let a small smile peak for a moment in agreement.

Yvonne’s panic only increases as the three close in on her. With her two colleagues effectively down for the count, she was surely in for something truly brutal. Her quick breathing and panic muscles shifting about unmistakable to the group.

“Honestly Yvonne.” Jamack said after a moment of watching her panic. “The performance you brought to the table was disgraceful.”

Her eyes flicker from Jamack and the other two as he keeps speaking.

“I really hope this isn’t the show that’s suppose to represents the Mod Frogs.” His smile drops. “Or else we really lucked out getting out when we did.”

“What-”

“With lousy skills like that, how the hell does Sartori expect you to be of use?” Harris didn’t miss a beat in the jeering. “Geez, did we carry the whole group?”

“If this is the acceptable standard? Maybe.” Jamack smiles. “Must truly be a shame they abandoned their best members.”

“You were never-”

“A shame indeed.” Kwat finishes as she swings the mace at her.

She tries to move out of the way only for Jamack to hit her in the back with the staff. The two offer the perfect opportunity for Harris to bring down his bat on her head with enough force to make an impact so obviously painful that her cry makes even Kwat flinch in surprise.

Truly brutal indeed.

To really put salt in the wound, the underfrog trio tie up the bloodied frogs with their tongues, the other frogs to exhausted and beat to put up much of a struggle.

Between their appearance and the broken Mod Frog they’re left upon, the trio knows their message would get across just fine. They don’t even take the dragonfly, just release it so it’d go back to the pond and alert someone, bringing an audience to see the pathetic state the losers were left in. 

Maybe now the Mod Frogs will realize the severity of kicking out loyal members.

[hwanuels]

l.jn: just shoot your shot

summary: can jeno just be confident in himself? pls? pretty pls? 

pairing: student-athlete!jeno x tutor! (fem) reader

warning: PROCEED WITH CAUTION! GRAMMAR MISTAKES! AND CRACKHEADS! ALSO CURSING! i’m back and i’m not dead so here’s some athlete!jeno that everyone was looking forward too. just a reminder, this is apart of my collab with @huangsren so check out her art-hoe! renjun and childhood-friend! chenle in our dreamies highschool au. i’m not really satisfied with this piece compared to my other two. hopefully, this still slaps. also, there will be for sure a second part to this so yuh. enjoy. 

okay so let’s get this straight lee jeno is THAT guy whose in like all of the sports teams on campus 

basketball, baseball, football, soccer, track and field, cross country, pickleball, etc he’s on them all 

he was deadass about to join the cheerleading team just so he could have the clout of being on all of the teams 

ngl imagine a cheerleader!jeno,,,hell yeah that’s my shit

but he didn’t bc he isn’t as big of a crackhead as one like to think

jeno has the reputation of the silent cold guy, but in actuality is a big FLOOF ball especially with his close friends (aka jaemin) 

he’s well-liked by everyone bc he’s hecka nice once they look pass that cold exterior and he’s realllly hot.

just picture sweaty!jeno after practice using his shirt to wipe off his sweat allowing everyone to have a glimpse of his abs. 

sign me the fuck up

he’s just extremely shy and socially awkward so he doesn’t really know how to interact w people when he meets them for the first time so a lot of people just think he’s that distant, angsty type 

it still shocks a shit ton of people when they find out he’s best friends with the social butterfly/ fboi! jaemin but don’t get him wrong bc he doesn’t go around town breaking hearts left and right like his best buddy does

as much as jeno likes to deny it, he is a ROMANTICIST

way back in freshmen year, jeno was captivated by a teenage romance which he blames ara (from fucq-boi! jaemin au) for roping him into all those barbies and chick-flick movies. 

like his heart flutters at the idea of his significant other wearing his jersey to his games or sharing a milkshake at the local ice cream parlor,,,he wants to give them his hoodie and cuddle on the couch (hopefully watching barbie princess charm school) 

BABY BOY JUST WANTS TO BE LOVED ! 

but he doesn’t want it to be superficial like what jaemin does 

he highly disapproves of jaemin’s casanova ways

jaemin is probably really glad about the bros before hoes rule bc he would have lost jeno a long time ago with all of the girls he goes through 

jeno knows that love is a delicate thing and should be treated seriously which is why he’s so against jaemin’s date and ditch 

and jeno wants to be in a relationship! but he can’t bc he has like NO time for the lovey-dovey highschool bs (also bc he’s highkey scared that he might ruin any relationship he gets himself into)  

the boy has back to back practice from all the sports he decided to take on

on multiple occasions, different practice times interfere with each other and instead of just missing one like he SHOULD, jeno decided to take em both on at the same time

catch him sprinting from the soccer field to the football field back and forth in between break times

one time, basketball and swimming practice collided w each other so jeno thought it was smart to go back and forth from the school’s pool to the gym after he’d finish a 1000M IM set and shot at least 15 3-pointers 

let’s just say he flashed a lot of people, running half-naked with only his drag suit on when he forgot to put on his sweatpants in one of his runs back and forth

art-hoe! renjun never lets him live it down much to his embarrassment 

“remember that one-time jeno displayed his junk to the whole student body? good times, good times” 

cue jeno throwing a pencil at renjun or chasing him down the halls 

jeno’s abs were the talk of the school for at least a whole month and our boi had red cheeks every time he heard someone talk about it 

because of that jeno double-checks, quadruple-checks to make sure that his pants are on before booking it to the gym to shoot hoops 

ALSO 

another reason why a lot of people find jeno so intimidating and hard to approach was bc of the fight that happened between his ex-friend! stoner-boi!haechan sophomore year

no one expected that the calm, seemingly unbothered jeno could throw punches that hard. it was like he transformed into the hulk or something 

except jeno didn’t like the new reputation he gained over a stupid fight with his once close friend. 

there’s one nasty habit that jeno can’t seem to let go of no matter how much jaemin and renjun tell him to fix

the boy holds onto grudges like there’s no tomorrow

there was one time where jaemin had to borrow jeno’s phone for something and he accidentally dropped it

“hey can i borrow your phone to call someone? mine’s dead.” jaemin asked him.

“no, last time i gave it to you, you cracked it” 

“dude! it was one time” 

“say that to my cracked screen” 

“for goodness sake, jeno, i only cracked your screen protector!” 

“still you broke it”

yeah, jaemin never got to use jeno’s phone ever again. 

someone didn’t give back the pencil he lent them? he doesn’t even look in their direction until jaemin nags him enough to just let it go 

which is probably why he and haechan still vehemently hate each other even though renjun and jaemin are ready to go talk things out with haechan 

some part deep down insides knows he should just let it go and actually talk things out with haechan on why he initiated the fight bc haechan was once someone jeno considered as a bro 

and jeno doesn’t give out bro passes as easily 

he just doesn’t know how to approach haechan or if haechan would even be willing to talk it through 

it’s kinda sad how the two of them don’t even look each other in the eye or acknowledged each other existence anymore 

other than that jeno is practically flawless, jk 

as much as he is very enthusiastic in physical education, when it comes to math, science, etc, jeno is basically flunking. like borderline passing in all of his classes 

he was for sure failing math though which is a HUGE problem…bc to stay on any team sport, he CAN’T be failing a class 

which is why jeno was currently spending his free period, in the library, furiously erasing his wrong answer for the problem he tried multiple times to solve. it was the first math problem on the remedial work packet that his math teacher gave him for extra practice. 

even his friend, smartass renjun gave up on helping him and went to go toy around with his telescope, going on a tangent about renjun’s alien conspiracies theories.

if only jeno could have renjun’s genius brain, life would be so much easier

slamming his head on the table, jeno let out a low groan of frustration at whoever decided that it was a good idea to mix number and letters together.  

“dude, can you not?” he heard someone say from next to him. 

he lifted his head to take a peek…and this is where you come in, glaring at him with murder on your mind 

jeno’s just staring at you and the fool does not recognize you at all 

NCT High isn’t a big place either so he would have come across you once or twice, but you were simply a new face to him. 

you, at this point, grew annoyed at the boy who was just shameless staring at you. 

“is there something on my face?” you asked with a raised eyebrow 

slowly he shakes his head ‘no’ 

“keep it down, i’m trying to sleep” you warned him before laying your arms now with your head resting on it, faced away from jeno. 

jeno, who was awe-struck for second at your frank personality, decided that it was time to have another go at the problem and looked at it again

yeah there was no way in hell he was going to be able to solve it, he was too fucking lost 

atm jeno is like .000000001 seconds away from having a mental breakdown because if he doesn’t pass his test this friday he’s going to be benched and if he fails the class then he loses his status of team captain and his spot on the soccer team which he cannot afford to bc it was SENIOR year and he should be living in all of his sports glory right now 

and what if he can’t graduate? he can’t be a super senior like lucas wong like nooo that can definitely not happen

literally, jeno, stop freaking out - sincerely admin minnie

suddenly while he was having an overthinking session, his paper and pencil were taken away from him. he watches as the culprit (you) quickly solve the problems on the piece of paper in record time with wide eyes

letting out a small huff, you gave him back the paper wordlessly before going back to your previous sleeping positions hoping to get back to your precious nap time. your actions leaving jeno’s mouth opened in awe as his eyes glances back and forth between the answer sheets and the ones you provided him, both matching up perfectly with no mistake 

he looks back at your sleeping form and wonders if you’re an actual prodigy like renjun 

but jeno also feels really bad for disturbing your nap so he lets you be and tries to quietly work on the other problems and review how you solved the ones he had trouble on earlier 

except he’s even more confused bc there was more numbers and letters;; no comprendo 

jeno’s brain: ajadkf;dskjhg;ajdsvf;

he contemplates ask you for help or a basic explanation since there was no way that jeno learned how to solve that in class (he did, he just slept through the lecture because he was dead-beat tired after a heavy soccer practice from the night before) 

jeno’s fear of flunking overweighed his social awkwardness so he pokes you gently with his pencil eliciting a grumpy “what do you want, now?” from you

gulping, jeno mumbles a small “can you help me, i don’t understand how you solved this” 

you looked intently at jeno not answering his questions causing the boy to instantly regret asking, but surprisingly you replied 

“what don’t you get?” you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and shifted towards the male 

“i don’t even know what i don’t know”

i felt that jeno. i felt that. 

he pulls the piece of paper between the two of you and points to a problem that you did with ease 

“oh, so you’re so supposed to…” you launched off into an explanation filled with math terms that adds more to jeno’s confusion 

sensing that jeno still wasn’t understanding, you let out a big sigh 

“sorry, it just doesn’t make sense in my head” jeno admitted shyly

at first, you were gonna say something snappy about how even an eighth-grader could do this problem easily, you held it back because you actually felt bad since jeno was trying so hard

you also weren’t going to deny that lw jeno looked quite cute with that adorable slight pout on his face 

“let’s just take it slow, i’ll explain step by step” 

so you did just that, patiently teaching the methods and theorems to jeno who constantly made that confused noise every time you introduced something new to the table

the two of you worked through five of the worksheets and jeno was actually understanding it! horray! 

you were explaining the last problem to jeno when he stops you with a question that was completely off-topic 

“why are you helping me?” 

it was simple question so you answered it simply. 

“because you looked like you need it.” you shrugged “i was trying to take a nap earlier but it was too loud for me with your constant erasing” 

“sorry” jeno said looking down at his lap, embarrassed that he was a nuisance to you  

you kind felt bad ngl so you quickly reassured him 

“don’t worry about it. you remind me of my idiotic friends, not that you’re an idiot though. actually, no comment.” 

we love a blunt y/n. 

you clicked the pen you were holding and placed it down, “i moved here a couple months ago so i barely know anyone. now that it’s senior year, everyone already has their own friend group so why bother trying to join them?” 

jeno makes another confused noised at your blunt statement. 

you wondered if that particular noise has some type of effect on you due to the fact that you have a sudden urge to explain your situation to the boy you hardly knew for more than the hour

“i used to go to miroh high, but my dad got a transfer here so he decided to enroll me at this school without my say. i left all my friends back there sadly” 

“that sucks,” was all that jeno could say.

damn his inability to socialize like a normal human being. 

you nodded, “yeah, it does, but it’s not that bad. my friends make an effort to come down here most weekend and sometimes i drive up there too.” you turn to look at him and jeno freezes at the sudden eye contact “actually, you remind me of my friend hyunjin. he was kind of a ditz in anything that wasn’t sports” 

“wait, how do you know that i play sports?” jeno asked confused 

“dude, everyone knows that you’re the school’s mvp.” you said as if it’s obvious “you’re not as intimidating as they say you are though.” 

damn it 

he was hoping you had no idea who he was so that could relieve his guilt of not knowing who you were despite being in the same graduating class.

at the same time, he was glad that he seemed to have made a good impression on you  

“don’t worry, i won’t spill your little secret” you gestured to the worksheets which had red pen markings all over it, signs of jeno’s failures. you figured that the school’s star jock didn’t want the school knowing his inability to solve basic 12th-grade math problem 

you reached under the table to grab your backpack, causing jeno to reach a hand out to grasp your wrist 

“wait, where are you going?”

 a part of him was afraid that he was going to forget everything you taught him once you left, but the other part was extremely curious about you and wanted to know more

“i have somewhere to go?” you looked down at his hand and back up at him “you have something else you want to say?” 

sensing that his grip was making you feel uncomfortable, he quickly pulled his hand away. rubbing the back of his neck. he avoids your eyes, opting to stare at your feet instead. 

“this might be a little weird, but can you please tutor me? at least until next week when i have to take my make-or-break test.” jeno plead, embarrassment rushed to his cheeks in the form of a red blush when he realized how desperate he sounded. 

you let out a tiny giggle, totally different from your persona earlier. 

you took his pencil that was laying on the table to scribble something on the corner of his worksheet. patting his shoulder, you quickly left the boy staring at the piece of paper. 

don’t get confused (127) 312-0325 :)

a stupid smile made it’s way onto jeno’s lips as he quickly packed up his things in haste. he practically skips to soccer practice. maybe he even heel-clicked.  

lee jeno is not failing math! 

cute tutor acquired! 

woohoo! 

but also, there’s this weird tingly feeling that jeno has inside. 

he doesn’t know what exactly it was but most likely it’s probably the reason why he was a goofy-ass smile on his face 

“dude, are you okay?” one of his teammates ask after he gets hits in the head with a soccer ball 

jeno, not even fazed by it one bit, just smiles and gives his teammates a big thumbs up 

“coach, i think there’s something wrong with jeno!” 

anyways, that night he’s extremely excited to text you. 

imagine jeno on his bed, laying on his stomach feet up in the air, taking at least an hour to construct a response that doesn’t make him seem lame or a fifty-year-old man like all of his friends say he texts like 

jeno is probably the type of person that texts, with all the correct capitalization and actual punction plus awkward spacing and usage of emojis 

this time he tried to be chill about it

jeno: hey, it’s me, jeno. sorry for bothering you this late at night, but i don’t understand this problem. can you help me pls? 

sent. 

now jeno was currently awaiting your response….however, you don’t reply right away like jeno for some reason expects

he takes the waiting time to scroll through his social media and it’s the usual things he sees every day 

he sees the juniors’ chenle and his weird little friend talking about some sort of prank they’re going to pull, jaemin’s spam post on how he was stuck making prom decorations to fulfill his community service requirements, etc 

however, a sudden post from @/luccasss caught his attention

especially the girl sitting on top of an old blue car with the senior, middle fingers up  

his eyes glance at the caption quickly 

me and my main bitch fucking it up (pc to our little kiddo) 

wait a minute. 

jeno could remember you saying how you didn’t bother making friends w anyone, so what are you doing with the lucas wong? 

now lucas wong doesn’t have that great of a reputation around campus, especially since he was a held back his senior year. he blows off class and jeno has heard that he’s in cahoots with the stoners on campus too 

your account is tagged in the picture and luckily it’s on public, so jeno could secretly and shamefully stalk your page

while looking through your photos, jeno realizes that he really doesn’t know anything about…. you 

tbh he didn’t even know your name until he saw your bio and username. (facepalm @ jeno)

scrolling through your photos, he saw you posing with other boys and girls that he didn’t recognize making him assume that they were your friends from your old school 

his fingers land on a picture where you’re kissing a cheek of ridiculously good looking guy. checking the tag, he sees that it’s a guy whose username was something along the lines of cb_97

imma miss my ddy chan <3!! owo 

as he scrolling through the chan guy’s instagram, jeno becomes more dejected bc maybe he was too deep in his imagination that he got from watching too many dramas with ara 

letting out a sad sigh, jeno clicks his phone off and settles into bed. the more he thinks about it the more he feels insignificant to you which he was. 

for all he knows, he’s just a random kid in the library that you helped with a few math problems 

the next day, jeno walks into school with no pep in his step :( 

and as his certified besties, jaemin and renjun drag him into an empty classroom during lunch prying him to confess what’s got him down in the dumps 

and jeno knows he can’t hide anything from his besties so he just lets it all out 

jaemin, taking a long blink after his bff’s rant to process the newly acquired tea  “wow, bro. you got the feels” 

“exactly,” jeno groans “i only talked to her once! she doesn’t even know me!” 

“she knows you suck at math,” renjun points out 

and jeno threatens to throw a chair at his friend, but jaemin quickly stops him 

“okay, how about you just take it slow? like get to know her and let her get to know you. it could be that you’re just overthinking her kindness for helping you when you were desperate. appreciation is different from admiration” ngl jaemin was kinda-sorta right 

“btw, who is this chick anyway? you haven’t told us who it was” renjun asked, sitting on one of the empty desks  

“y/n, she transferred a couple months ago from miroh” 

renjun abruptly jumps to his feet, “the y/n l/n? the new math teacher’ daughter?” 

“you know her?” jeno quirks an eyebrow 

“dude she’s in my ap calculus class and she has the highest grade, but she never shows up to class,” renjun tells him. “she’s a straight, badass genius” 

jeno feels stupider as renjun continues to list all of your achievements and the art boy makes it seem like all of them were done effortlessly. 

how stupid was he in your eyes when he couldn’t solve regular senior math problems while you were out here solving college-based ones?

now you seem like a person farther and father away from him.

jaemin, his good-ol-buddy knows that jeno is over-analyzing the new information renjun was telling him, and he tries his best to hype is buddy up

“c’mon, you might not be a genius at math but you certainly are on any field, pool, and court. have some confidence!” 

deep down jeno knows that he should listen to his friend and that he should just be more confident in himself, but he can’t shake his feeling of insecurity and doubt 

so the next time he sees you laying on the empty table in the non-fiction section sleeping, he’s a bit more reluctant to approach you. instead, he quietly sits in the seat next to you as he pulls out his practice sheets to work and miserably fail on

except you don’t wake up for a looong time until jeno accidentally sneezes too loud, causing you to awaken

opening your eyes, you see the boy look at you with wide eyes as if he’s done something terribly wrong by waking you up 

“why do you look like i’m about to kill you or something?” you giggled watching as the boy in front of you became very flustered “why didn’t you wake me up when you came here?”

“oh, you look like you were in deep sleep, so i didn’t want to wake you up” 

you stretched your arms out, one hand over your mouth as you let out an inaudible yawn, “don’t worry about it. i’m always sleeping” 

you blamed all of your fatigue on lucas as it was his fault that you were tired out of your mind from the little night adventure he roped both you and a junior named eun (y/n from childhood-friend!chenle’s au) into. 

honestly, if it weren’t for lucas’s annoying ass laugh waking you up from your nap that one day, you probably wouldn’t have befriended the big bumbling bafoon. 

“yeah, but apparently i’m failing the twelfth-grade again bc i’m not allowed to just go to homeroom and p.e. i mean, who wants to learn about FUNCTIONS when you could just be looking up memes in the library?!?” - lucas wong, 2019

despite lucas’s overwhelming personality, you were quite thankful to have him as he reminded you of your old friends back at miroh, it was nice. 

eun was a soft-spoken child that often had to turn to you or lucas (which wasn’t always a good idea) for advice that you both were happy to give to the underclassmen. 

personally, you didn’t care that you only had like two friends, quality over quantity right? 

“earth to jeno?” you waved your hand in front of his face as he stayed unresponsive 

he mumbles something inaudible and points at a problem 

your eyes gloss over it taking in the problem, before quickly grabbing a pen and solving it. you spoke slowly as you explained the step-by-step solution that jeno had to do. 

when you look back at jeno to make sure that he was understanding the content, you noticed how the jock is off in his own universe and not paying attention to you. 

“please don’t make me repeat that again,” you sigh, catching jeno’s attention. you capped the pen and lightly tossed it on the table, proceeding to stretch out your hands above your head. 

“sorry” 

“what’s up with you?” you asked, wondering why the boy who seemed desperate for your help yesterday, was now acting like he could care less. “and don’t give me that stupid, generic “nothing” bullshit.” 

“sorry, football was tough last night,” jeno said quietly, focusing on the problem. 

despite not being involved in the school festivities, you knew that it was well past football season. and that meant that jeno was lying to you. 

there was a slight pang of disappointment, but you pushed it aside. what were you expecting anyway? he probably only saw you as a tutor. 

you weren’t even his friend for fuck’s sake 

“let’s move onto the next problem” you say, quickly changing the subject. 

honestly, the two of you were fucking idiots. smh 

despite there being awkward tension between the two of you, you’re tutoring was actually very very helpful for jeno. he could actually understand what was going on in math class now. 

remember that test he had to take to ensure that he could play for his soccer match? jeno passed that with flying colors thanks to your careful explanations 

even after that test, the two of you kept your tutoring arrangement;;;and maybe jeno was falling even harder for you. 

he couldn’t help it though! the way you run your fingers through your hair or the way you puff out your cheeks when you’re trying to think of a way to explain something to jeno just makes leaves him star-struck. and every time he gets a problem right without your help, the proud smile that you give him makes his heart leap

it wasn’t like you were safe from the love bug either!! 

lee jeno was hard not to like and he was even harder to not fall for. 

the little cute noises that he makes when he’s lost, the way his eyes go wide when he finally understands the problem, and the eye-smile he gives you when he gets a problem right. 

your heart literally went uwu when jeno offered you his hoodie bc the two of you were sitting underneath the ac vent and you were shivering.

when you tried to give it back to him, he just shook his head and said “keep it, just in case you get cold” 

lee jeno was not healthy for your heart. uwu hours 24/7 

but the two of you were stuck in this weird relationship bc the two of you weren’t exactly friends, but also not strictly tutoring. you would share laughs here and there, but then quickly it would dial down and returned back to the math problems

some times when he was texting you, he would send a cute gif to show you that he understood and sometimes you would tell him about something funny/stupid lucas+eun or your other friends did. 

“just ask him out,” lucas tells you bluntly as the both of you chilled on the bleachers during lunch. 

“hard pass” 

“fine, then i’ll do it.” lucas shrugs, eliciting a hard smack from you 

“don’t embarrass me, you asstwat” 

“who said i was asking him out for you? that boy is a fine piece of meat” 

“istg, lucas, i’ll actually gouge your eyes out” you deadpanned. 

but big ol’ oaf lucas doesn't see you as an actual threat. and he reaches out to grab your cheeks causing your face to form into a fish pout 

“can you even reach me?” he teases, shaking around your face

and this the part where you’re pulling lucas into a headlock, oblivious to the fact that jeno was watching your toughy actions from afar

he kicked the soccer ball angrily into the goal causing jaemin to duck with a small shriek to avoid getting his head decapitated by jeno’s fastball 

“dude wtf!” jaemin shouts 

“sorry,” jeno mutters. 

jaemin looks over to where jeno was staring at and saw you and lucas being really handsy with each other. from that distance that the two boys were looking it, it didn’t look like the roughhousing the two of you were actually doing

you pulling his hair to them looked like you were playing around with it  

jaemin’s buddy jeno be looking like a kicked puppy rn, muttering under his breath about his shortcommings

jaemin is bout ready to slap him upside down the head for having no confidence or whateves

“can you stop talking shit about my bestfriend now?” jaemin @ jeno but the boy is on a whole ass rant on why he sucks in comparison to lucas

“of course she doesn’t like me. she has a whole lucas wong and he’s 6′0 ft of handsomeness. he’s fun and exciting, i’m staler than a moldy piece of bread!” 

can jeno just love himself??????? is that to much to ask? 

“i’ll just never be good enough for her. i’m not her type, she can do better than me.” 

cue jaemin intense internal screaming 

one day, jeno was going to your usual sitting spot in the library when he sees lucas chilling with eun—a girl that he’s seen around with his friend chenle. they were both laughing at something on lucas’s phone. 

jeno looks at the sight confused. cause like aren’t you and lucas a thing? like why was this boy looking really chummy with this underclassmen? 

so jeno clears his throat to catch their attention and both of them look at him like “who tf are you?”

“where’s y/n? she’s suppose to be tutoring me” jeno says 

a look of recognition flashes across lucas’s and eun’s at the sound of y/ns name. the younger female whispers something to the senior causing him to clap his hands. 

“oh so you’re, jeno??” lucas says in this voice

and jeno awkwardly nods

“yeah, y/n is skipping school today so she told me to tell you to look over the notes she wrote out for you” lucas pulled out a notebook and handed it to jeno

jeno flips through it carefully, examining the words you wrote in your familiar handwriting; there was also a highlight code system and little side comments to help him

“thanks” jeno about to leave but lucas’s next comments stop him

“you’re lucky that y/n likes you enough to do that for you. she wouldn’t even tell me whats 4x4 when i asked her” lucas slumped into his seat

“that because she thinks you have chronic stupidity” the underclassmen said, giggling

“aren’t you suppose to be on my side you little pipsqueak” lucas says jokily, rubbing her head. 

and jeno is watching the exchange, getting more and more confused

did y/n know that lucas was hanging out w another girl without you?

“did you need something else, jeno?”  eun asked him

jeno is about to say no, but different words left his mouth

“aren’t you dating y/n, lucas?”

there was a silence that lasted for a good minute, both lucas and the underclassmen giving jeno a blank stare….

until lucas bust out into ugly laughter, bent over his seat delirious and eun was also laughing along but not to the same degree.

was it really that funny? jeno be staying confused

it wasn’t until the librarian came to shush the two did they stop laughing

lucas wiped away tears of laughter from his eyes “that was a good one!”

“what do you mean?” jeno asked

“pffft eun would rather date a rabid animal than me,” lucas said “she’s only friends w me bc i forced her to be”

oh! that was news to jeno

“besides, lucas isn't y/n’s type” eun revealed, shocking jeno

oh really now? 

“yeah, you fit her type really well,” lucas stated nonchalantly. 

eun is like BRUH WHY WOULD YOU REVEAL THAT but doesn’t say anything and kicks lucas underneath the table. she could already picture the pure anger once her friend found out that lucas spilled her secret crush that easily. 

robot jeno is just standing there holding the notebook and deep in thought. 

“is he okay?” lucas whispers, looking up and down at jeno. eun shrugs in response 

bOOM jeno zoom zooms away and the two high schoolers shrug at the jocks before returning to looking at dank memes 

jeno basically charges down to the only female he’s friends with for advice, ara. (go read my fucqboi! jaemin for the backstory!) 

conveniently, he finds both his jaemin and ara standing at her locker talking. tbh it looked more like jaemin trying to flirt with ara and her ignoring him. 

but right now his friend’s girl problems were the least of jeno’s concerns! 

so jeno basically hulk yanks jaemin away from ara and has the most serious expression on his face “i need your help, ara” 

“huh?” 

and he drags ara off to a more secluded place to explain his current situation to, ignoring jaemin’s whines

“to be honest with you, i think you need to have more confidence. now that you know that she isn't interested in lucas, why don’t you just take the initiative to confess?” ara says once jeno explained to her every juicy detail of his hopeless love story. 

“because i don’t think that she likes me. there’s nothing special about me. the only things i’m good at are sports and that’s not very interesting!” jeno exclaims “she probably thinks i’m an actual idiot!” 

“jeno, listen, i’m only going to say this once, but please please understand that you’re a very special person, okay? you’re extremely hard-working, nice, and honestly very fun to be around. it would take a fool to not like you, lee jeno.” ara sighed, patting her friend’s shoulder “just shoot your shot. if it doesn’t make it in, it’s okay.” 

but jeno doesn’t like leaving things to chance. he wants to be sure and he hates uncertainty. 

“when you’re competing or playing against someone, you have no idea how the whole game is going to pan out. all you know to do is to try your best and go all out to ensure the very best result so that you can win. liking someone is like that, you just have to go forward and hopefully, you’ll be able to score a home run or a touchdown.”  

that was sum deep shit 

after listening carefully to ara’s words, jeno came to a conclusion

maybe 

just maybe

jeno will take a chance.  

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone and sends a text. 

jeno: can you meet me at neo ice cream later? i have something important to tell you. 

y/n: yeah ofc. i’ll see you at 4 

he had soccer practice today and for the very first time, jeno was skipping practice, his favorite time. the only time where he’s ever fully confident in his abilities, where his stupid insecurities can’t get to him. 

this was more important the temporary self-gratification that jeno gets when he’s able to fly through practice with ease

lee jeno was taking a leap, unsure of where he’ll fall. 

today, he’ll shoot his shot. and hopefully, you’ll catch. 

[angelsfalling16]

Fools in Love

Read on ao3

Summary: Baz is opening up a bookstore, and his newest employee is a face from the past. He hopes that he and Simon can work together without their past getting in the way.

Word Count: 4562

A/N: I've had quite a bit of fun writing my fics for the @cotarot, and I am happy to be able to share this fic with you all now. My card was The Fool, and I decided to play with a few of the aspects of the upright part of this card that I found on this website. I focused mainly on Baz and new adventures, a new job, trying new things, and being ready for a fun relationship while also being careful not to miss out on true love.

Thank you @caitybuglove23 for reading over this for me and giving me inspiration for the ending. Your help has been as indispensable as Penny's help was to Baz in this fic.

***

Baz turns in a circle, taking in his surroundings, and he feels good about it. He is so close to getting what he has been working towards for so long. His bookshop is almost ready to open.

The shelves are finally stocked, the coffee shop is almost ready, and the shop is just as he imagined it when he drew out some of the designs. There were a few times over the past few months that he doubted that he would actually get this done, but he finally did it.

The bookshop opens in a week, on the following Saturday, and Baz feels like he might actually be ready.

There isn’t much left to do. He has worked his ass off, and it finally paid off. He deserves a break. He has done all he can do today.

Looking down at his t-shirt and shorts, Baz frowns. He wouldn’t usually deign to wear something so casual in public, but he has ruined many a nice outfit while trying to get this place cleaned up and making it safe for people to enter.

This place was a disaster when Baz found it. The windows were boarded up and covered in layer upon layer of graffiti. The floorboards were covered in a lay of dust so thick that he immediately threw out his shoes after the first time he walked through the place, and there was trash and rodent droppings everywhere.

He wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction when he saw the place, but there weren’t a lot of other options. A run-down shop that needing fixing up was better than nothing. And it was cheaper, so he was able to refuse the money his father offered him and get a loan. He wanted to be as dependent with this project as possible, even if that meant going for the long-abandoned and probably-haunted building that no one else wanted.

Now, as he looks at what this place became, he is happy about the decisions that he made.

Baz turns back around in time to see Dev emerge from the coffee shop section of the store, looking just as worn out as Baz feels. He has put in countless hours helping me get this place set up. Niall, too. Baz isn’t sure he could have done this without them.

“Hey, Baz,” Dev says as he walks closer. “Let’s get out of here. There isn’t much more that we can do. Let’s go celebrate.”

“Celebrate what? We aren’t even open yet.”

“But you will be in a week.”

“I don’t want to celebrate prematurely. Do you have any idea how many things could go wrong before then? If we have another break in, we might not be able to open.

It has actually been a few weeks since the last time someone broke into the store, but Baz knows that it could happen again. He has imagined every bad thing that could happen before next Saturday that would cause them not to be able to open, and it keeps him up most nights.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dev says. “You’ve said it all everyday for weeks. Celebrating might be the wrong idea, but you definitely need to get out. Drink, let loose a bit. The stress is going to kill you if you don’t slow down every once in a while.”

Baz sighs. Dev has a point, but what he doesn’t know is that Baz has been out every night this week.

Away from his father and his constant watch over him, Baz has branched out in more than one area of his life. He finds it freeing to be able to walk into a bar or a club and pull some random guy, barely even bothering to learn his name before their hands are roaming each other’s bodies, and Baz is letting the guy pleasure him into forgetting everything that is going on.

Baz is done trying to make a deeper connection with people or get anyone to care about him. It was time for him to start something new on his own, so that’s what he’s doing. Getting attached to people is a mistake, which is why he doesn’t do it. They only even end up disappointing you, but if you just spend one night with a guy, it is exponentially harder for them to do that.

Baz never called back last night’s fling, and he doesn’t plan to. He deletes their number before telling Dev that he’ll go drinking. They lock up for the night and head to a bar on the opposite side of town where Niall will be waiting for them.

They stop by Baz’s place so that he can change into something nicer, and he pulls his hair down from its bun, allowing it to fall down around his face. There’s no use messing with it any more than that if some guy is just going to wreck it within the hour.

***

An hour and several drinks later, Baz finds himself getting lost in the mass of people out on the dance floor. This is one of few times that he just lets go and allows himself to just enjoy the moment. The stress of running his own business and the memories of countless arguments with his father wash away, and the only thing he’s thinking about is the beat of the music and which guy he’d most like to take home tonight.

Baz dances for a while, and when he opens his eyes at one point to take in the people around him, he finds himself staring into too familiar blue eyes.

Simon Snow is standing just a few feet away, and he’s looking at Baz.

As soon as they make eye contact, Simon turns and disappears into the ground. Baz briefly considers going after him to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things, but he stops himself. He isn’t going to allow himself to get messed up with Simon again. He’s past that.

Getting drunk and dancing with strangers has practically become habit with Baz, but this is something new. It throws him off. After that bit of shock, he loses the beat, and it no longer feels like he’s just dancing with strangers.

At least, that’s what he tells himself. It is definitely not because any old feelings have been dredged up just by seeing a guy from his past.

Baz hasn’t seen Simon since high school. Things weren’t always easy between them, but during their senior year of high school, Baz had begun to think that things were getting easier, that we were becoming something close to friends.

There was even a moment when Baz thought…but then Simon just ghosted him.

He wouldn’t return any of Baz’s texts. He avoided him in the hall and during lunch, and he moved seats in all of their classes so that he wouldn’t have to be anywhere near Baz.

Baz tried to talk to him once about what happened, cornering him in the parking lot one day after school, but Simon wouldn’t talk to him. Baz wanted to hit something. He wanted to yell at Simon. He wanted to demand that they sit down and talk about what happened, but Simon refused to say a word.

He just set his jaw and stared at a spot off to the side until Baz got tired of talking with no response and finally walked away.

He hasn’t tried to talk to Simon since that day. He thought he had left town after graduation. He was either woefully misinformed, or Simon is back in town.

Either way, it doesn’t spell good things for Baz. It never does.

After Simon disappears, walking away without saying a word, Baz tries to find his groove again, but it proves to be impossible.

This guy’s eyes are the wrong shade of blue. That guys clothes are too nice. And that one’s hair is all wrong.

Now, everywhere that Baz looks, he sees people who aren’t Simon, and no matter how good they might be in bed, it doesn’t seem worth going home with them. They all pale in comparison to the only guy Baz has ever been in love with.

Finally, after another half hour passes, Baz decides to give up and just go home. He pulls out his phone and calls a cab as he exits the bar because he doesn’t think he can face Dev and Niall after this. They will immediately sense that something is up, and the way that Baz feels is so ridiculous that he doesn’t want to have to talk to them about it, so he shoots them a quick text telling them that he’s headed home and thanking them for a night out.

Then, he spends the night trying to forget about Simon but unable to.

He barely sleeps and is in a terrible mood the next morning. It’s a good thing that he doesn’t plan to go into the store until that afternoon, after he has gotten some much needed coffee in him.

After breakfast, Baz receives some news that lifts his mood a bit. One of the people that has been an integral part of getting this shop off the round thinks that she has found him a new hire, and he knows better than to doubt Penelope Bunce.

Baz didn’t realize that it would be so difficult to find people to work for him. He’s a week away from opening, and he still doesn’t have enough employees.

There have been more than a few times when he has begun to wonder if his father was right, even now when he’s so close.

But no. He can’t think like that.

He can’t let his father bring him down, not when he is so close to finally opening his own business.

He has to prove his father wrong, show him that this was the right decision and that he did not make a mistake when he decided to venture out on his own.

He sends Penelope a text, telling her to have the applicant be at the shop at one that afternoon for an interview.

He figures that if the applicant is serious about wanting to work there, he will make the time to be there, even if it is on such short notice.

***

Baz is going to kill Penelope.

He should have known better than to trust Simon’s best friend from school, but her help has been indispensable. But maybe he should have been suspicious when she didn’t give him the applicant's name. He didn’t think he had any reason to be suspicious, though. He didn’t think that she would send Simon Snow to his doorstep.

Baz sees Simon through the door, standing there and waiting for Baz to let him in, and Baz almost turns around and hides in the back. Almost. But he isn’t that childish, so he walks over and opens the door.

Fortunately, Simon seems to be just as surprised to see him there, so maybe Penelope was keeping the truth from the both of them.

“Sorry,” Simon says. “I think I’m in the wrong place.

Baz twists his mouth into a sneer and pushes a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Oh. It’s just that Penny – my friend – said that this place was hiring. I didn’t realize that you worked here.”

It’s interesting that it seems like Penny didn’t say anything to Simon about this. Baz just has one question: why did she send Simon here?

“I don’t work here,” Baz says.

“Oh.”

“I own it.” Baz has to admit that he enjoys the look on Simon’s face when he says it.

“Oh. I guess I should just go then.” He starts to turn away, but Baz stops him.

“Wait. I can’t have you getting me into trouble for not giving you a fair interview.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Baz makes a noncommittal sound in response, not really believing him. “Come on in, and we’ll talk.”

He leads Simon to a seating area at the back of the shop and quietly looks over his resume and application. They’re both crumpled from being stuffed in his pocket, but at least he thought to bring them with him. (Probably also Penny’s doing.)

Baz wants to turn Simon away, but he hasn’t received any other applications as of yet. No one wants to work at an independent bookstore, especially one such as Baz’s. Dev agreed to be a temporary barista, but Baz needs to hire other people if he wants to be able to open on Saturday.

Baz silently stares at Simon’s references and such for a long time before he finally looks up at Simon again.

He thinks about it for another long moment before he says, “Do you know what this place is?”

“A bookstore?”

“Yes and no. It is a safe space for everyone, but especially those of the LGBTQ+ community. There are not a lot of places where we can go and be open and feel welcome, so I set out to create such a place. I want anyone to be able to walk in here and feel like they have a place where they belong. Whether they have a label or choose not to use on. Whether they are out or in the closet or questioning. I want them to be able to come in here and find answers to those questions and to meet others like them and not feel so alone.”

Baz pauses for a moment to make sure that Simon is still listening before he continues. “Yes, this is a bookstore, but it is so much more than that. There is a café, but there is also this comfortable area where people can sit and read books that they may be worried about their parents seeing them with. Now, I know you may be thinking that it won’t be profitable, but I don’t care about the money. I care about making everyone feel safe and welcome.”

“Actually, I was thinking that that is amazing.”

It’s not quite the response that Baz was expecting. He didn’t know what Simon would say, but he didn’t think that it would be that he liked this place.

Simon turns his head to look around the store, and Baz looks with him, wondering what it looks like through his eyes.

At first glance, it may seem like an ordinary bookstore, but if you look carefully at all of the details, various section titles can be seen above different shelves that hold books on different LGBTQ+ resources, and there are all different kinds of pride flags hanging on the wall.

There are a lot of non-fiction books that Baz is hoping will be informational to those who need them, but there is a large fiction section as well. There are books whose authors and/or main characters are part of the LGBTQ+ community. Even the names of the drinks in the café have a theme to them. Then, there’s the seating area where we are currently at. It is situated at the back of the store, out of view from the front windows so that people can hopefully have a sense of privacy while they read. Baz wanted everything to be perfect.

Simon turns back to him, and he seems to be whispering to himself as he says, “It truly is amazing.”

That is when Baz makes up his mind about him.

“So, when can you start working?”

“What?” Simon asks, obviously surprised. “You only asked the one question, and I got it wrong.”

“It was your response to what I said afterward that I was looking for. Your resume isn’t too shabby either. Is there any way that you can start tomorrow? There is still a lot to do before we open, and I would like you to familiarize yourself with the place.”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Simon says, seeming a little confused, but that quickly turns into excitement as Baz talks with him about some things about the store he’ll need to know before he starts working.

Ten minutes later, they’re shaking hands, and Simon is on his way.

Baz is feeling a little better now that he has someone to work the sales floor with him. A couple of part-time people will need to be hired as well, but this seems like a good first step.

Baz can’t wait until they open.

***

It is finally opening day, and things are going better than expected. Baz had only hoped for a dozen or so people to come for the opening, but there have been groups of people moving in and out all day.

It started pouring down rain just before noon, and that helped drive people into his shop who were looking to get out of the rain, but people also seem to be genuinely interested in what the place has to offer.

They have made way more sales than Baz expected them to. He thought that people would simply come in, look around to see what the place was about, and then leave, maybe buying a coffee if they felt so inclined.

But it has been so much more than that.

Baz has been walking around helping people find things on the topics they are interested in and recommending some of his personal favorite books and discussing things with people who had any questions he thought he might be able to answer.

Niall came in to help Dev out in the café, and Baz has heard a lot of whispering about how cute they are. It’s just too bad that they are happily engaged to each other.

Things between Baz and Simon have been a little awkward this past week, but they work surprisingly well together.

Simon is hardworking and has gone above and beyond to help Baz, staying late into the evenings to get things set up and read to go. Baz has been there with him every second of it, and he hasn’t been able to think about anyone but him in days.

As Baz walks around the store, helping customers, he can’t help but watch Simon out of the corner of his eye. He bounces between the cash register and talking animatedly to customers, and he seems to really enjoy being here.

Baz has to admit that he is actually glad that Penny sent him his way. (Although, a warning still would have been nice.)

The rain clears late in the afternoon, about an hour before closing time, and a rainbow can be seen from inside the store. It’s beautiful, and Baz is delighted in how well the store has done on its first day, but by the time they lock up for the day, he only has eyes for Simon.

Baz and Simon quietly clean up the store together, straightening shelves and putting away a few stray books that are lying around, and just as Simon is about to leave for the night, Baz gets up the nerve to ask him if he would like to go for drinks.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“I was just going to head home.”

“Dev, Niall, and I were going to head out to a bar to celebrate a successful first day. You can come along if you would like.”

Simon’s smile is hesitant, but he says, “Yeah, that, um, sounds nice.”

“Cool. Ask Penny if she would like to come along, too. She was highly instrumental in getting this place open and advertising it to people.”

“She was?” Simon asks, raising both brows.

Baz nods. “Yes.”

Penny handled the creation of the shop’s website and the social media aspects, getting this place noticed and advertising the grand opening so that hopefully people will show up to it.

She helped find artists to commission for the artwork that lines the walls in between and above the bookshelves. She also helped design the pride buttons that will sit in a little bowl at the front and the merchandise that is going to be sold over by the coffee area. Baz could not have accomplished any of this without her.

He and Simon head out together, Dev and Niall following closely behind, and even though Baz is a little nervous about being around Simon outside of work, he’s a little excited, too.

***

They all gather to celebrate in the same bar as last week, and after one drink, Baz decides that he has had enough to drink. He’s worried about what stupid things he might do or say with Simon right there, sitting at the table with their mix of friends. Especially when all he can think about is pulling Simon into a dark corner and kissing him senseless.

To avoid what would be an immensely stupid act, Baz gets up and goes out to the dance floor, letting the music take him in. He closes his eyes as he dances to song after song, not caring about any of the people who surround him. He is ready to let go for the night.

After a while, Baz feels a shift in the pace around him. He isn’t quite sure what it is until he opens his eyes and finds Simon standing directly in front of him, and he finds himself once again surprised to be staring into the eyes of Simon Snow.

Simon has this strange expression on his face as he starts to dance with Baz, attempting to move to the music with him. He makes a big show of his movements, but he is actually quite terrible at it. He can’t even keep to the beat.

After a couple of long minutes of simply watching him, Baz places his hands on Simon’s hips and begins to guide his movements.

It doesn’t quite fix Simon’s dancing, but it does help it, and they begin moving together, drifting closer and closer together until they are practically pressed up against each other.

Baz startles at the first touch of Simon’s lips to his skin, but then he leans into it. Simon’s lips graze along Baz’s jaw, and Baz wonders if he should protest since they are in public, but it feels too good. Baz is lost in his touch.

Simon’s lips start to move, and Baz knows exactly what he plans to do. Their lips are just a breath apart when Baz places his hands on Simon’s chest to stop him. “Not here.”

Simon looks at him with a confused smile, and Baz squeezes his hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Simon nods, and they make their way out to Baz’s car. Neither of them has drunk much, but Baz feels a weird, electric energy coursing through him.

“Not here either,” he repeats once they’re in his car and Simon starts to lean towards him.

Baz starts the car and puts it in drive. He pulls out of the parking lot and starts towards his place, no idea what he’s going to do when they get there. Is he really taking Simon all the way to his apartment so that they can share one kiss and forget about it again?

He really shouldn’t be kissing his employees, but it’s Simon. Simon isn’t just some employee. He’s the love of Baz’s life.

And Baz cannot let this turn out like last time. He wants to have more. He needs to know that Simon wants more, or he can’t do this.

Just as he is about to reach the turn for his place, Baz turns the opposite direction and heads away from it.

There is a park nearby where they can sit and talk.

Simon looks confused as Baz parks, but he doesn’t say anything as Baz gets out of the car and moves towards the park entrance. He just follows after him.

Baz doesn’t want to have this conversation while they’re cooped up in his car. Luckily, there are only a few people at the park this late, especially since it rained all day, so they can have some privacy.

Baz leads them over to the swings, flipping the seat over to the drier side before sitting down. Simon tilts his head at him, frowning slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“Swinging. I think we should talk before we… Before this goes any further. And it’s a nice night, so come swing with me.”

“Alright.”

Simon takes the swing beside him, and Baz pushes off the ground, moving back and forth slowly so that he can still talk to Simon as he swings.

“What did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The kiss.”

“What kiss?”

Baz grinds his teeth together and squeezes his eyes shut, reminding himself that getting angry isn’t going to help anything.

“Oh,” Simon says before Baz can respond. “That kiss.”

“Yes. That kiss.”

“Do we really need to talk about that? It was so long ago.”

“We do because I still don’t understand what happened or why you quit talking to me.”

Simon groans and pushes off the ground forcefully. He swings for a minute before he finally responds.

“You know what happened. I kissed, you hated it, and we stopped being friends.”

“I—. What? I didn’t hate it. And we didn’t ‘stop being friends.’ You quit talking to me, and I had no idea why.”

“Because I was afraid that we would go back to the constant arguing and that you would use that kiss against me. And I didn’t want to—. Wait. You didn’t hate it.”

Baz sighs, staring at the ground as he lets his swinging slow until his feet are dragging on the ground.

“Of course, not. I had been wanting to kiss you for a long time, and when that finally happened, you disappeared. You quit talking to me, and I didn’t know what to think except that you thought it was a mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He speaks quietly, and Baz barely hears him.

“What?”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he repeats, louder this time. He turns to meet Baz’s eyes as he continues. “I liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it again. But I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I was afraid of getting hurt. And I now realize that I hurt you by doing that, so I’m sorry.”

Baz stares at him quietly for a long time. He isn’t sure what to say to that, but maybe he doesn’t have to say anything.

Sliding off the swing, Baz moves to stand in front of Simon. He holds his hands out and pulls Simon to his feet.

He searches Simon’s eyes for any sign that this could end badly, but he isn’t sure. All he knows is that he wants to take the chance. He wants to kiss Simon and go from there.

So, he does.

He leans forwards and kisses Simon carefully, pulling him into his arms and holding him tightly.

Simon kisses him back eagerly, jutting his jaw forward and making Baz’s knees weak as he deepens the kiss.

This kiss feels right. It feels like it’s full of hope and the possibility of something new.

The clouds part overhead, letting the moon shine down on them as they kiss there without a care in the world for a long time, and Baz thinks that all in all, today has been a pretty good day.

[purplesurveys]

1124

survey by nadine07

Three Names You Are Called:

1. Robyn, by virtually everybody. 

2. Byn, by close family members.

3. For some reason I have some friends who call me Bynbyn? even though I never established it as a nickname?? but they use it as an affectionate nickname so ultimately I don’t mind it. It just takes me aback sometimes, lmao.

Three Colors You Are Wearing At the Moment:

1. Red

2. White

3. Pink. Or light purple, depending on how you see it.

The Last Three People To Call You:

1. My mom, though I missed the call because I was at work earlier.

2. I just saw that Ysa, my director, also tried to call me. This story is so fucking stupid...I physically went to the office last Wednesday to pack some groceries, and all day long I had been leaving the door slightly ajar every time I had to go out because I haven’t had my biometrics enrolled yet and I don’t hold the keys to the office (and I was the only one who requested to go there for that day).

Of course, knowing my luck, the door slipped while I was out (I had to very briefly hand a package to a courier), locking me out of the goddamn office with all my shit inside. Even worse, I had a meeting going on with a client – I had speaking parts assigned to me, and I got locked out like 30 seconds before my part would start. I’m guessing Ysa called me during the time I disappeared but I obviously couldn’t have answered the phone. It was infuriating, especially since my manager had to cover for my slides which she didn’t practice for.

I’ll no longer get into how I managed to get back inside since it’s another embarrassing and complicated story altogether, but suffice it to say I was really upset about the whole thing and I still feel uneasy imagining how that meeting could’ve gone down with my disappearance.

3. A courier. They usually call when they’re already arrived where you are, so that they know where exactly to meet up with you.

Three Days You Look Forward To Each Year:

1. My birthday, because it’s kinda cool turning into a different age.

2. Whenever Wrestlemania is scheduled, which is usually late March or early April.

3. ...I don’t have any either favorite days/dates.

Three Jobs You've Had:

1. PR associate.

2. That’s my first job. I’ve had two internships before that, and they were both at PR agencies.

3. -

Three Bands/Singers You Love:

1. Paramore

2. Beyoncé

3. The Japanese House

Three People You've Talked To Today:

1. It’s exactly 7 AM. I could’ve talked to my parents when they headed downstairs earlier but I pretended I was still asleep on the couch so that they couldn’t, hahaha. They’ve since gone out to jog. I don’t think I’ve said a word at all yet this morning, actually.

2. -

3. -

Three Things You Could Grab From Where You're Sitting:

1. My phone.

2. The other end of this table.

3. My vape pen.

The Last Three Things You've Had to Drink:

1. I most recently had a glass of water after I finished my bag of salted egg chips.

2. I finished off the last of my coffee.

3. I also drank soju last night as an impromptu thing because I saw that I still had a peach-flavored one (my favorite) in the fridge.

Three People You Can Always Count On:

1. Angela.

2. Andi.

3. I’m also gonna name Pia even though we aren’t the closest. Girl has been crazy supportive over the last few months.

Three Places You Want to Go:

1. That I haven’t been to yet? Seoul in South Korea.

2. Thailand.

3. Morocco.

The Last Three Places You've Gone:

1. Other than places in the house – the local coffee shop inside my village.

2. The office.

3. The Starbucks beside the office. I had arrived a bit early so I had some time to walk over there and order something.

The Last Three Non-Relatives You've Hung Out With:

1. Angela.

2. Hans.

3. We were 8 in the group the last time we went out lol. But aside from the above, Pia (a different one) was the one who made the most effort to talk to me as well.

Three People To Be Stranded On A Desert Island With:

1. Angela.

2. Kate.

3. Not sure. Maybe Al for some comic relief while we try to survive there?

Three Smells You Love:

1. Cookies being baked.

2. A hotel room.

3. Seafood.

Three People You Look Up To:

1. Angela’s mom.

2. Andi.

3. My manager, Bea. Well she just got promoted, so I guess I’ll call her my director now, hahaha.

Three Places You've Lived:

1. The duplex where I mostly grew up, just a village away from my current one. I got to experience living in either house, as well.

2. Tondo, Manila. With my dad’s family.

3. Sampaloc, Manila. My parents briefly had an apartment and I was there for like a few months as a newborn.

Three Good Teachers You've Had:

1. My music teacher for the entirety of high school.

2. My professor in international relations.

3. My professor in my social history and history of Filipino women electives.

Three Things You're Good At:

1. I gotta say I’m great at parking, hahaha. Backward parking, parallel parking, you name it.

2. Going through my to-do list and finishing off every task by the end of the day.

3. Reflexes, or reacting/responding immediately, especially in games.

The Last Three People You've Kissed:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

The Last Three People You've Dated:

1. Gabie.

2. -

3. -

Three People With Whom You've Shared a Secret:

1. Andi.

2. JM.

3. Jo was the first person I informed about my breakup, and I didn’t even reveal it publicly until like three months after. I didn’t expect to confide in her especially since we aren’t the closest, but I think I was just desperate to tell someone then to finally acknowledge reality.

Three Irresponsible Things You've Done:

1. Vape.

2. Road rage.

3. Leave my laptop in a classroom as I left to go to another class, in another building.

Three Movies You Love:

1. Two for the Road.

2. Revolutionary Road.

3. Room.

The Last Three People You've Gone to the Movies With:

1. Angela.

2. Leigh.

3. Gabie.

The Last Three People You've Ridden in a Car With:

1. Laurice.

2. Kuya Toby.

3. Lui.

Three Facts About Your #1:

1. Can I name my best friends instead? Angela is in her final year of college taking up architecture.

2. She has two shih tzus, Hailey and Kennedy.

3. Her mom is a pediatrician and has her own clinic in their home.

Three Places You've Gone With Your #2:

1. I haven’t been too adventurous with Andi...most recently we’ve gone to a Korean barbecue joint for a one-on-one catch up date.

2. TK.

3. Rita’s house.

Three Things You've Done With Your #3:

1. Kate works for the government.

2. Last time I talked to her, she’s still set on retake a law school exam after not getting admitted to her campus of choice last year.

3. She had a bad habit of dating orgmates.

Three Things You Have in Common With Your #4:

1. Laurice is great at debate.

2. She lives in the south, so I don’t get to see her a lot.

3. She has a cute habit of calling many of our friends by their respective honorifics, even though they’re the same age or even when she’s literally older than some of them.

Three Things That Annoy You:

1. Making the effort to go to a store and seeing they’re closed for the day, even though they didn’t indicate it in their social media accounts.

2. Offices of government agencies and their ever-grumpy staff.

3. Filipinos’ tendency to turn 3 lanes into 6 during a traffic jam.

Three Things That Attract You To The Opposite Sex:

1. Asexual. Pass.

2. - 

3. - 

Three Material Items You'd Save If You're House Was On Fire:

1. My laptop, since all my work files and a whole ton of memories are in here.

2. My phone, so I can update family and friends.

3. My glasses. Realistically, I wouldn’t care about any of these and would jump up to grab my dogs instead.

Three Careers You've Considered:

1. Journalist.

2. Lawyer.

3. Historian.

Three Things You Wish You Knew About Your Future:

1. Whether marriage or kids will be part of mine.

2. When I’m dying, and what from.

3. Where I’ll end up living, and what kind of housing.

The Last Three Songs You Listened To:

1. Wait On - Hayley Williams

2. Good Grief - Hayley Williams

3. Over Those Hills - Hayley Williams. Stream Flowers for Vases, friends.

Three Things You Consider Lucky:

1. I don’t believe in lucky charms.

2. - 

3. - 

Three T.V. Show Characters You Wish Were Real:

1. Mr. Peanutbutter from BoJack Horseman.

2. Chandler Bing from Friends.

3. Glenn Rhee from The Walking Dead.

Three Issues You Have Strong Opinions On:

1. Racial equality. 

2. Gender equality.

3. Abortion rights.

Three Things You Wish You Could Change About Yourself:

1. That I wasn’t so clumsy at work.

2. That I wasn’t too selfless all the time to just about anyone.

3. That I had a better hold of my finances and keep spending just because I’m still within budget, heheh.

Three People From Your Past You Wish You Could Spend a Day With:

1. My grandpa, who passed away before I could properly grow up and shoot the shit with him over some beer.

2. Nacho.

3. Sofie, so we can properly catch up, just the two of us.

Three Famous People You'd Like to Meet:

1. Beyoncé.

2. Hayley Williams.

3. Leni Robredo.

Three Things You Are Wearing:

1. A t-shirt.

2. A pair of shorts.

3. Underwear.

The Last Three Places You Went That Were More Than 2 Hours Away:

1. Tagaytay.

2. My dad’s family’s home in Laguna.

3. Those are the only places we’ve been to where we had to travel for a while.

The Last Three Reasons You Went to the Hospital:

1. Blood and urine test for my ~mystery illness~ last year.

2. I had to be confined for a couple of days because of low platelet count.

3. ...I was born. I haven’t made many trips to the hospital. 

Three Things You Are Addicted To:

1. I’ve never felt comfortable using the term addicted because it’s an actual condition...but if you mean to ask for what I’m hooked to at the moment, I’d go with coffee.

2. And salted egg chips. I literally bought five bags of chips yesterday and I’m already finished with my third.

3. Anything Korean, tbh. Korean food, shows, music, etc...the Korean Wave is very strong over here and I’ve finally been reeled all the way in.

Three Favorite Colors:

1. Baby pink or pastel pink.

2. Mustard yellow.

3. Maroon.

Three Things You Will Do Now That This Is Over:

1. Find another one to take for later.

2. Finish my breakfast, and maybe heat up some leftover pasta because I’m still hungry.

3. Maybe get my embroidering template so I can make some progress today.

[hiddendreamer67]

"Oh my god, this is terrible. My soul mate knows where I live." said by a human Virgil who will then discover that his (platonic) soulmate is actually a borrower living in his house? (I thought about Patton for the borrower but if you wanna do someone else that works too! And if you wanna do someone else knstead of Virgil it also works, do what you want)

This was a very interesting realm and I might need to visit it again at a future date because this platonic borrower/human soulmate bonding is *muah*. 

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting​!

—————————————————————————————————–

Virgil expect a lot of things when he came home to visit his family for the summer. Mom smothering him in homemade food? Sure. His twin brothers nearly tearing each other’s heads off? That was a given. Spotting a tiny person dashing under his bed? 

Uh… what?

Virgil all but threw his suitcase to the side, pressing himself to the floor to try and get another glimpse at the little creature. “…must’ve been my imagination.” Virgil muttered, ignoring the way the outlet cover was still partially open as if to reveal a passageway. Outlet covers were just like that sometimes. Tiny people didn’t exist. 

Despite whatever he told himself, Virgil couldn’t get the image out of his head. Everywhere he went, his eyes kept wandering the walls, wondering if the fairy creature thing could be listening in at any moment. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Remus snuck up behind him, casually sipping on a juicebox.

Virgil jumped, looking guilty as he hit his head on the bottom of the dresser. “…nuthin’.” Virgil lied, cursing under his breath as he reappeared rubbing his head.

“If you’re looking for “nothing”, why are you hiding under the dresser?” Remus taunted.

“Everybody’s looking for something.” Roman argued, for once in agreement with his twin. Curse them for ganging up on Virgil. “For example, I’m looking for the lipstick that suspiciously went missing after someone was digging through my room.”

Remus only grinned at the look of suspicion he got. “I ate it.” He said triumphantly.

Aaaaand just like that the two were at each other’s throats again, Virgil having to intervene before blood was spilt on the living room floor. 

From then on, Virgil tried to be more stealthy about searching, knowing that he looked like an idiot. He also didn’t want to scare off the tiny person by being too forward, but then again break wouldn’t last forever. Virgil needed answers and he needed them now.

“…okay.” Virgil sighed, feeling silly talking to himself. It was late at night, when everyone else was asleep. Maybe the tiny wall person was too, but Virgil felt a little too ridiculous to do this during the day. “So, um, I know you’re there. Er, you were there. Are you still there? I- I mean the uh, the tiny… person? Sorry, I don’t have a better term for a whatever-you-are, I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just, whelp, just ignorant, I guess.”

Yup, he was definitely stupid. He almost hoped they weren’t listening in just now.

“You really have no clue who I am?”

Virgil froze, never expecting to get so far as a response. It was quiet, so quiet he thought he could have just imagined it. And then there was the question itself- why did it fill him with such anxiety? Was he supposed to know?

“…no?” Virgil admitted. “I’m sorry if that, I dunno, upsets you? I’m not really great with people skills. As you might have been able to tell, based on the way I was sorta…stalking you. Sorry about that. And sorry for bringing that up if you didn’t already know. I should…probably just shut up, huh?”

“Please don’t!” The mysterious voice sounded more hasty this time, clearly wanting to keep talking. “I’ve been waiting to get to know you since the moment I first saw you.”

“That’s… ominous.” Virgil decided, even if he had felt the same way. Virgil received a giggle in response, and he glanced around the room to try and pinpoint the noise. “But I guess I did too. Wanted to know you, I mean. How long have you lived here?”

“Not long.” Disembodied voice replied. “I actually almost left because of the younger ones, quite dangerous they are,-” As if Virgil needed more reasons to kill his brothers- “But you… you’re different. I can just tell, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, don’t use me as an example.” Virgil shrugged. “I wasn’t a good child either.”

“I don’t believe that.” The tiny person decided.

“What, you really have to destroy my edgy persona so fast?” Virgil teased. “Building up walls is kind of my thing.”

“Well it doesn’t have to be.” 

There was silence for a moment, Virgil shifting awkwardly. He didn’t know how to respond to that, but more worryingly he didn’t know how his new- friend?- would react to his next request.

“Could you please come out?” Virgil just came out and said it, like ripping off a band-aid. More silence greeted his question, and Virgil tried not to let his heart sink like a rock. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“I- I know.” The voice said, though it still sounded nervous. Virgil thought they had good reason to be; after all, how could they possibly know that Virgil wouldn’t hurt them? 

There was another awkward pause, and Virgil was just about to assure the visitor they didn’t need to reveal themselves when a quiet shuffling caught his attention. Virgil turned, eyes widening at the figure no bigger than his hand emerging on his dresser. It was a small man, all dressed in sky blue and adorned with a pair of lenses that were barely hanging onto the edge of his nose. The little guy fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, letting out a puff of air to blow some of his sandy-brown locks out of his face. 

“Wow.” Virgil said, realizing that the guy was probably waiting for a response. “You’re so…cute.”

Instantly Virgil felt his cheeks flush, not having meant to say that out loud. Thankfully, the little didn’t seem to take offense, instead letting out a laugh that helped release the tension in the air.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He teased, turning Virgil’s cheeks redder than before. 

“Sorry, it just…slipped out.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m uh, I’m Virgil.” 

“Patton.” The tiny figure replied. Patton hesitated for a moment, before holding his hand out for a shake. Tentatively, Virgil reached out and gave Patton’s delicate hand a polite touch.

The second contact was made, both figures let out a yelp, jumping away as a spark leapt between them. Virgil watched the little light fly up, a pale yellow shimmering into existence before fading out. 

“Oh my god, this is terrible.” Virgil decided, trying to remember what the hell yellow represented on the all-illusive chart. Virgil was never very informed about this stuff; frankly, he thought it was all just a myth.

“It…it is?” Patton looked uncertain, and now Virgil really felt like an ass.

“My soulmate knows where I live.” Virgil shook his head. “It was a…poor attempt at humor. Oh my god, you must have seen me do so much embarrassing shit-”

“Language!” Patton immediately scolded.

“Shit, sorry, ah, goddamnit, shit, FUCK!” Virgil’s cursing only seemed to get worse as he tried to stop. He grimaced. “I’ll…I’ll work on that.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Patton gave him a shy grin. “And um, guess I know now why I actually wanted to meet you. That’s really not something we’re supposed to do- I mean, who would ever imagine a human bonding with a lil’ ol’ borrower like me?”

Virgil blinked. “What’s a borrower?”

Patton blinked right back. “This is going to be a long night.” He declared, settling in and hopefully getting ready to tell Virgil the tale of what he was and how he came to be living in the walls.

Hopefully, that wouldn’t be for much longer. Virgil would hate if something were to happen to Patton because of his brothers, and bond or no bond Virgil already wanted to help Patton however he could, even if Patton seemed to be doing alright on his own. Would Patton want to come back with him to college? That might be safest, but he wouldn’t force it on Patton. Oh shoot, Virgil hadn’t even considered the possibility of Patton already living with other borrowers. Could Virgil convince them to come? But how many could there be? Would that even be safe to move so many? 

“-Virgil?” Patton’s voice cut him out of his own thoughts. “I think I lost ya for a sec there, kiddo.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” Virgil apologized. “Just… trying to figure out what this all means.”

“What do you mean?” Patton frowned. “You think it was a fluke?”

“No, no no!” Virgil hastily assured him. He didn’t want Patton thinking Virgil was looking down on him for his stature, or saying that made him any less of a soul mate. “I’m just- okay, thing you’re gonna learn about me, I have a habit of worrying about everything. And it just so happens that I’m already well on my way to doing that about all of this.”

“Okay, let’s just take things slow.” Patton put out his hands as if easing a frightened horse. “Get through as much as we can tonight, and figure it out from there. Okay?”

“…okay.” Virgil agreed uneasily, but knowing in his heart he had to trust Patton if whatever-this-was could ever work.

[neighborhood-merc]

It is I, and I am back with more a new list of fanfics for this wonderful ship called SpideyPool. 

Listen, I don’t know why I’m doing this as well (maybe because I fuckin love these boys and want to share my fave fanfics of their ship to everyone...or whatever) but here we are. [ Here are Part 1, 3 btw! ]  

Same shit applies:

The themes of the stories on this list varies, I’m either into something heart-warming, fluffy, domestic that sort of stuff or into some really really heavy and dark messed up ones. It always depends on the mood am I right? *wink wink*

It’s always gonna be smutty though lol

As long as it’s tastefully written, whatever kinky shit, I can be into it, I don’t judge the writer. With that being said if I add something straight up messed up here now/or in the future, don’t judge too, just mind the tags of the fic, for your own discretion if anything.

this list should be Wade Wilson/Peter Parker - Spiderman/Deadpool pairing only. I kinda like my babies greedy/possessive for/of each other.

I don’t care who tops or bottoms.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summaries are taken directly from the fanfic’s summary.

Read the tags first!

Wolves [ Update: Sadly, the fic has been deleted :( ] (This is WIP, but I swear it’s so fucking good you should read it. It’s a Prison AU, and the writing is sublime)  Peter is falsely accused and sent to jail, where he meets the violent ex-mercenary, Wade.

Don't Forget To Check Your Calendar! Peter REALLY should remember to check his calendar or Peter forgets that he has a heat coming up, and in doing so causes several sticky situations to occur (thank god for Tony's NDA's).

Communication Error “Have you seriously been doing this bit for a year now?” “Bit… what bit?” Wade looked at him, confused. “This,” Peter waved his hand, “the 'we’re dating' bit.” There was a pause, and then suddenly, it was like Wade’s whole body imploded. His shoulders sunk and his head dropped and suddenly Peter knew he’d made a huge mistake. “Hahaha, yeah, the dating bit.” He held up the wine. “One year of one really bad, horrible joke.”

Night Off Wade is taking the night off when a certain Spider calls for help.

The Great Florist, Wade Wilson (this ones got a Sequel) Deadpool has found the apartment belonging to Spiderman. Or Peter Parker, if the name on the door is anything to go by. Now some people might use this information of said secret identity wrongly. Normally Wade would have been one of them. But this is different. This is Spider-Parker, I-mean, Peter-man, I-mean, fuck. Now Deadpool just have to figure out exactly what he is gonna do with this information. Which is quite simple really. He's going to leave Spidey flowers and win his heart this way or the one, where Deadpool spams Spiderman with flowers, and Spiderman has no idea what's going on

Tale As Old As Time, Song As Old As Rhyme (This belongs to the series  “A Spider in the Pool”) It is absolutely fucking good, I recommend you read them. Do read the warnings though yeah?) Peter Parker gradually falls for Wade's dubious charms. They have a lot of hang ups and kinks to negotiate, but with sex this hot, Peter can't help wanting more. Erotica with significant plot and relationship development.

Help Me, Peter Parker, You’re My Only Hope! “I need your help,” Wade admitted. “And why would I help you?” Peter asked with an amused chuckle. “Because, um, I asked you? Isn’t it what you do? Help people who ask for it?”

Damage Peter Parker finds himself in a sticky situation and who should show up to rescue him but the infamous Deadpool? Now Peter feels indebted to the mercenary... And maybe weirdly charmed by him.

I'm Serious Wade wants Peter to top. But he really, really doesn't know how to ask.

Shake it out (this series is a good boi)

Sick Days  "Wade." "Mr. Rogers." They stared at each other, one calm and silent in his fury while the other looked like a deer about to be pummeled by an eighteen-wheeler. "I'm sure you have a reason for being in my son's bed without a shirt on?"

Love Me Dead Peter tries to tell Wade his feelings. It's kind of a train-wreck.

Disgusting -Spideypool (5+1) This is a Wade Centric fic containing topics of mental health struggles and self image. Nothing too graphic but still.

Flip the Safety They both get a little carried away when they fight, but this time Wade grins over his gun and the worst part is that Peter knows he doesn’t plan on shooting him.

Do It Yourself “I bet you’re flexible enough to suck your own dick.” Wade plants that thought in Peter's head and he can't help where curiosity leads him.

Looking for a savior in these dirty streets  (WADE YOU LITTLE SHIT LOL) what's your opinion on eating ass? just looking for a yes or noThat's the text Peter gets when he's in a meeting with Anna Maria, trying his hardest to get back to running a company a few months after an unexpected trip to the underworld.

Act your age (not your shoe size) “Wanna go grab some grub? I have it on good authority there's some qual-a-tee Mexican around here.”Peter’s mouth drops open. “Uh, you always invite guys you just met out for lunch?” Deadpool laughs and leans forward. The words are muffled when he says, “Only the ones I meet in movie theaters.”

That's the power of love (cute af fic) “Yeah, so, about that. Nice to meet ya, I’m Wade Wilson but def not your Wade Wilson although I gotta say, I’m jealous of the asshole.”

Baby, i’d victoria your secret anytime (another good boy) Peter’s known Wade for a while now, so he can maybe see how this makes sense -- like, maybe Wade has a thing about going commando and just happened to have an old girlfriend’s panties lying around, one thing led to another…but…“And the bra?” Peter croaks.

It's The Alcohol Talking It wasn't every day that Wade came across a drunk-off-his-ass Spider-man.

Marco (this is fuckin’ hurt ok???) Spidey was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Took no time with the fall (Part One of “wasn’t looking for this” series) When the Avengers had briefed him on Deadpool, they played up the Kills People for Money and Has No Real Morals angle and left out the Is Pretty Damn Funny and Charming in a Weird, Terrifying Sort of Way part.Or, five times they meet on rooftops plus one time they take it to the streets*

Now you're in my way (Part Two of “wasn’t looking for this” series) Wade's been with the Avengers for four months. The two of them have been together for five.Their relationship consists of taco-based dates, a ton of sex, and, well, Avenging.

The Stalking of Wade Wilson "It’s around this point that a niggling thread of thought worms its way into his head when he’s not paying attention, one that gently suggests that Wade might be slightly less of a bad guy than Peter previously thought."

Seeing the real you (it's not what I imagined) "The fuck,“ Deadpool said slowly. He was staring at him in a way that made Peter feel decidedly uncomfortable, and this was saying something, considering Deadpool had a habit of leering at him at the most inappropriate times. "Are you kidding me?" he eventually gasped. "How OLD are you? Twelve?“

I'll Always Protect You Anonymous said: If anyone is up for it I have a rescue prompt idea where Peter (he is not in his spiderman suit) is taken as a hostage with a gun to the head along with a few other civilians. Peter is warning the criminals to let everyone go otherwise his fiance,Wade, will kill them all. They mock him and beat him up. Then a furious Deadpool saves Peter by the most badass way possible. Also I would love if someone write how unnervingly skilled Wade is as a mercenary. Please? Anyone?

Your ass is mine  Spidey takes a toilet break while on patrol. He wasn't expecting Wade to join him.

When I'm Inside You Spiders are hard to catch. When Deadpool manages to pin one down on an NYC rooftop, he thinks he deserves a prize.

Daddy It had started as a joke, which was conveniently how most of these things always happened.

Any Means Necessary Anonymous said: Abo au where Peter is a young mutant who both displayed his heat early before his adolscent stage and spidey powers that went out of haywire the moment his heat started, leaving him to thrash around the city, running away from his family. Wade Wilson, an alpha, who happens to be a professional mercenary for hire, is now paid to catch this mutant, and try and calm him down by “any means necessary” because Peter, even as an omega is swrecking havoc amongst the city. [ 1/2 ] Of course, Wade takes those words seriously, and decides to just do that solution by first, capturing and drugging the young omega, and then, placing him in what could be described as a special and adjustable breeding stand in Wade’s attempts to calm Peter down. [ 2/2 ]

One Fear (Two Fear), Red Rear (Pink Rear) (Note: Now this is where “read the tags first” is applicable af. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you dude) Anonymous said: Hello, another one for you: Deadpool adopts MCU Spidey and treats him like his actual child. That is until Peter starts growing up more and Wade can't help but feel attracted to him. At around age 15, Peter starts actively trying to seduce Wade. Wade resists, but in the end gives in. My kingdom for hardcore daddy kink, Sub!Peter, Wade calling him a good boy/baby boy. 

Wo Rauch Ist (this fic is fucking gold) "Someone needs to write a ‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU" 

[benvoliosantodomingo]

BELLAMY SANTO DOMINGO | THE KEEPER

“what is your religion? [...] - to love what is good and beautiful when i see it.” - george eliot 

basic information 

full name : bellamy santo domingo meaning : bellamy ( french ) - “fine friend” santo ( latin ) - “holy or devout” domingo ( spanish ) “of the lord” 

nicknames(s) : bell, bells  preferred names(s) : bellamy, bell, bells  birthdate : may 21st, 1995 age : 24 zodiac : taurus gender : male pronouns : he / his romantic : panromantic sexual orientation : bisexual nationality : Italian ethnicity : italian / brazilian current location : verona, italy living conditions : bellamy lives in an apartment by himself, away from the villa santo domingo. it has large windows that let in a lot of light, two guest rooms for his various friends to move in and out of, a large kitchen even though he can’t really cook worth anything, and he keeps it filled with the things that are important to him. one wall is two large bookshelves, relics from his travels are scattered around the place, and a wall in his bedroom is dedicated to pictures of the people that he loves, and pictures and postcards from his years traveling. its the only place that's ever truly been his, so he’s tried to leave his mark on it as much as possible.  title(s) : benvolio, ufficiale santo domingo, the keeper 

background

birthplace / hometown : bellamy was born and raised in verona. social class : bellamy comes from a wealthy upper-class family, but he never really agreed with everything that came with that distinction--and in comparison to families like the rossos and the montagues he always felt like his own family saw themselves as distinctly lesser. now that he’s an adult and living on his own, he would say that he’s firmly middle class and happy to be so. education level : bellamy has a high school education, and received police training upon returning to verona. father : luca santo domingo mother : ana santo domingo ( née moreno ) sibling(s) : bellamy is the oldest of five, and has only brothers. they aren’t particularly close due to bellamy’s proclivity for gentleness and peace, and the ones that are old enough are particularly devoted to the montague cause, like their parents. he makes an effort to see them occasionally--but it usually doesn't end well.  dante santo domingo ( 22 )  leonardo ( leo ) santo domingo ( 20 ) milo santo domingo ( 17 ) raphael santo domingo ( 13 )  children : none, but he is very much the mom friend.  pet(s) : none, but he’s not opposed to the idea of having one.  other important relatives : part of his travels involved staying with some of his mother’s relatives in brazil, and he has various aunts and uncles that are involved with the montagues in various capacities.  previous relationships : juliana capulet his secret high school girlfriend--two gentle souls who found solace in each other, in abandoning the pretenses they had both been affecting for their families. their relationship ended when bellamy decided to go traveling, but they left on good terms.  carlos de leon a formula one driver that bellamy met while he was staying in spain. he made bellamy momentarily forget everything that he had left behind, and they burned brightly for a few months. he begged bellamy to stay, to leave everything behind and start new, but ultimately bellamy decided to move on.  jack hawthorne a poet and an an american student at oxford that bellamy met while he was in england. they dated intensely for six months, and that was the closest that bellamy ever got to really considering staying somewhere--but ultimately there was more of the world that he wanted to see, and he wasn’t willing to give up on the people he had back in verona. they’re still close, and text from time to time.  arrests? : none, he’s the one with the strict charge of bailing others out of jail.  prison time? : none. 

occupation + home

primary source of income : the salary he earns from being a police officer.  secondary source of income : his salary as a soldato, and a trust fund account from his parents which he uses as sparingly as possible. he wants to create a life for himself based on his own merits.  content with their job (or lack thereof?) : bellamy is only on the force because the montagues placed him there upon his return--if he had a choice he would do pretty much anything else. there are aspects of the job that he likes, but he detests having to stand by and watch violence occur just because its in the montague name, or arriving moments too late to stop the cruelty from occurring. once upon a time, he’d imagined that he might study to be a poet, or a writer of some kind, but he’s since pretty much given up on that.  past job(s) : he picked up odd jobs on his travels whenever his funds started to get a little bit light--waiting tables, local bookshops, things he could pick up and leave pretty easily.  spending habits : bellamy’s parents presented him with a trust fund account as their way of taking care of him once he was out of their sight--but he doesn’t like to use it that often. it’s money they gained at the expense of others, and its their excuse for not having to think about him. he doesn't believe in spending money just for the hell of it, to show off what you have--he gets only what he needs to make himself comfortable, to make himself happy, with the salary that he earns from his job. his parents money gets donated to charities most of the time--shelters, food banks, organizations that stand against mob violence, no matter how small they may be.  most valuable possession(s) : an old t-shirt he stole from marcelo on a particularly bad night that still has their scent, and a daisy that roman had once tucked behind his ear that he keeps pressed in-between the pages of a book. 

skills + abilities 

physical strength : 7/10

bellamy keeps himself in good shape, and his job requires him to be able to lift heavy objects, or even people out of harm’s way if necessary. he’s not as strong as someone like marcelo, who works out regularly and with the specific purpose of being able to overpower other people, but he can hold his own. 

offense : 6/10

bellamy doesn’t believe in violence, and would much rather talk his way out of an altercation. however, he’s had effective tutors throughout his life who insisted that he be able to keep himself safe, and hold his own if the need ever arose, so he knows the basics. 

defense : 6/10

again, he is capable of holding his own should the need arise, but he doesn’t go out of his way to practice the skills, and he would prefer to do just about anything other than get into a physical altercation. 

speed : 8/10

bellamy’s preferred method of exercise is running, and his job requires him to be able to take off running at a moment’s notice, so his strength really is his speed. it also comes from childhood and teenage years running from whatever mess his friends got themselves into, so that he could bail them out later. 

intelligence : 8/10

bellamy is primarily intuitive, rather than classically educated and booksmart. he has a talent for reading people, and for reading emotion. he did grow up among the books of the verona library however, and has always been a voracious reader, and has taught himself a lot over the years. 

accuracy : 5/10

he hates shooting a gun, and his hands shake pretty much every time he has to draw it. he’s just good enough to pass the test to get on the police force, nothing more. 

agility : 8/10

he’s young, and a youth spent raising hell on the streets with his friends meant he developed a good deal of agility--he can hop a fence, a wall, or scale a fire escape with ease. 

stamina : 7/10

bellamy is physically fit, and trains pretty regularly, so his stamina is pretty above average. however, he has a low tolerance for pain and when he gets hurt it generally tends to really hurt. 

teamwork : 9/10

bellamy loves working with other people, and his skillset lies directly in his ability to communicate--he recognizes that no one ever really does anything alone, and that the future he envisions, in particular, will require as many people as he can convince of its plausibility. he can however, be blind and obstinate when his friends are brought into the equation--he will choose them above anyone else, every time. 

talents : bellamy has some talents as a writer, though he would never admit to it. he's skilled at communicating, at convincing other people to believe in his ideas, and he’s also very good at doing so in a way that never strays from genuine. he’s also pretty good at surfing, driving, and dancing.  shortcomings : bellamy is loyal to a fault--it would be easier to convince people of his crusade for peace if he could detach himself from the people in his life would oppose such an idea, but he never will. he also tends to be stubborn, and idealistic to a near fault. his life hinges on his ability to see peace brought to the streets of verona, and he refuses to consider that that might not be a real possibility.  languages spoken : italian, english, a little bit of portuguese, a little bit of french, and a little bit of spanish. drive? : yes, and at speeds that probably wouldn’t be considered “safe” or “legal”.  jump start a car? : yes!  change a flat tire? : yes!  ride a bicycle? : yes!  swim? : yes!  play an instrument? : no--his father played the guitar, and bellamy briefly considered learning, but got bored pretty quickly.  play chess? : no--there was always something more interesting for him to be doing, somewhere else.  braid hair? : yes, for the benefit of his friends exclusively.  tie a tie? : yes, and a bowtie.  pick a lock? : no, that’s what he had roman and marcelo for. 

physical appearance + characteristics 

face claim : marlon teixeira eye color : brown hair color : brown hair type / style : its always been curly, and he’s never really been particularly gifted at controlling it, so he generally doesn’t fuss with it.  glasses / contacts? : none dominant hand : right height : 6′2  weight : 175 build : bellamy is tall but solidly built--the muscle that he gains tends to fill him out.  exercise habits : running, boxing, lifting weights, yoga on occasion skin tone : he’s got his mother’s olive complexion.  tattoos : none yet, but he’s considered it a couple of times--he’d like for them to be meaningful, connecting him to the people he cares about.  piercings : none.  marks / scars : bellamy was an active child and carries the scars of that, and he has a very active job that has a tendency to leave him bruised and bleeding.  notable features : his curly hair, his nose, and a nice bone structure.  usual expression : bellamy makes an effort to smile as much as he can, as a kind of defiant act.  clothing style : bellamy has a weakness for nice clothes--he has a couple of designer suits that he’ll break out on occasion, and even his casual wear tends to be high end. he runs the full spectrum--he likes cozy sweaters some days, sportswear others, and some days he just wants to wear a crop top.  jewelry : a watch most days, rings he accumulated on his travels if he’s not on duty.  makeup : a little bit eyeliner, if he’s going out.  allergies : jerks!  diet : bellamy can cook well enough to stay alive, but he's not particularly gifted. he knows a few of his mom’s old recipes, and he can follow along with the food network, but he’s not really skilled enough to branch out and be adventurous by himself. he does like trying new things--he’s frequented a lot of out of the way restaurants in verona, and he’s totally that guy that will tell you that a particular dish is made better at a distant locale where you wouldn’t expect it to be made better. he notably is not phased at all by spice.  physical ailments : none. 

psychology 

jung type : ISFJ enneagram type : type 2, the helper. the caring interpersonal type: generous, demonstrative, people pleasing, possessive  moral alignment : neutral good  temperament : melancholic element : earth primary intelligence type : intra-personal Intelligence. mental conditions / disorders : bellamy struggles with anxiety.  sociability : bellamy is incredibly sociable--he draws his strength from other people, he has a deep and abiding love for humanity as a whole and believes wholeheartedly that they are capable of good. the only time he has a tendency to withdraw is when he’s well and truly upset--he’s used to being something solid for everyone else to lean against, and he doesn’t want them to worry about him.  emotional stability : bellamy tends to feel everything very deeply, and makes it a point to not hide that about himself. he grew up in a household where he was expected to keep his emotions in check, to channel them into violence and aggressive behavior, so as he’s been on his own he’s always been very outward about his expression. when he’s upset, he’s well and truly upset and its obvious. when he’s happy, he’s out and he likes to be among people.  obsession(s) : bringing peace to verona, and ending the mob war. when he was younger he fell deeply in love with the written word, and spent most of his teenage years drinking in every book he could get his hands on.  compulsion(s) : bellamy has a bit of a savior complex--if he sees someone in need, he feels compelled to try and do something, even when there might be nothing to be done.  phobia(s) : bellamy fears losing his loved ones, leaving him alone, deeply.  addiction(s) : none.  drug use : recreationally when he was younger, when he was in social situations. since he’s been back in verona and on the police force he’s tended to stay away from them.  alcohol use : mostly socially, but those tend to be heavy binges. he drinks when he’s truly upset, as a kind of last resort coping mechanism.  prone to violence? : absolutely not--he believes that most situations can be diffused without resorting to violence, and that violence is a plague that has swept through verona unchecked for hundreds of years. he prefers to resolve things with his words, with his voice, or to exit a situation entirely. if he feels its a last resort, he might turn to it, but it would have to be a desperate situation. 

mannerisms 

speech style : it depends on the situation--he generally speaks like a young person, with a lot of slang, and sometimes at more of a loud volume. if he really believes in what he’s talking about, he tends to speak very forcefully, with a lot of hand gestures and eye contact, with clear and concise language. he’s a gifted speaker who knows how to tailor his manner of speaking depending on audience.  accent : italian quirks : he’s always playing with his hair in one way or another, his manners tend to be less on the formal side because he grew up in a big family, he always gets up before the sun if he can help it.   hobbies : reading, writing, drawing, taking photographs, dancing, he’s trying to learn how to cook better, shopping nervous ticks : whenever bellamy’s nervous his hands start to get a tremor in them.  drives / motivations : what drives bellamy is the idea that a better future exists--a future where the people he loves will live and grow old, will do the things that bring them joy. he just has to figure out how to change things, to convince people to see that future in the same way that he does. he’s very motivated by his makeshift family, by making sure that they are safe and well taken care of. his primary motivation has always been kindness, everything he does comes from that place inside of him.  fears : he fears losing himself in this war, as well as losing the people that he loves about. he fears that violence will corrupt beyond what he can save, that he will have to bury the family that he’s made for himself.  positive traits : kind, selfless, optimistic negative traits : none he’s an angel he can be stubborn, he can be blindly optimistic, and he tends to be kind of a martyr at times.  sense of humor : more on the dark and dry side--its a side effect of being friends with marcelo rosso for so long.  do they curse often? : yes! he’s young and his family consists of his friends, he’s never felt the need to clean it up for them. 

favorites

activity : writing next to a sunlit window.  animal : all of them beverage : anything fruity book : the sword in the stone by t.h. white, maurice by e.m. forster, one hundred years of solitude by gabriel garcia marquez, the collected poems of john keats, the return of the king by j.r.r. tolkien  color : green  designer : thom browne, prada, louis vuitton  food : he has his issues with his mother--but she remains the best cook he’s ever known. he misses her brazilian food every day, as well as her high tolerance for spice.  flower : sunflower  gem : tourmaline  holiday : halloween  movie : the lord of the rings trilogy, an american in paris, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind  quote / saying : ”the future has several names. for the weak it is impossible; for the faint hearted it is unknown; for the valiant, it is ideal.” - victor Hugo scent : bright and floral  sport : football (soccer)  television show : parks and recreation, cooking shows, queer eye  weather: warm and with relentless sunshine  vacation destination : são paolo, brazil 

attitudes 

greatest dream : seeing his friends grow old and build happy lives for themselves.  most at ease when : he’s with the people that he cares about--they know him as well as anyone he shares blood with ever could.  least at ease when : he’s on the job, specifically when he has to draw his weapon. any kind of combat situation makes him uneasy.  worst possible thing that could happen : he resigns himself to life in the mob, realizes that peace is unattainable in verona, and becomes like his parents and everyone else in the montague ranks.  biggest achievement : leaving verona when he was 18 years old, and seeing what else the world had to offer.  biggest regret : allowing himself to be lured back, allowing the montagues to put him in the verona police force.  top priorities : keeping his loved ones safe and alive, building a better world for them to live in. 

[hermannsthumb]

OOOH AUTUMN FIC MEMES !!! okay if you aren't terribly busy and wouldn't mind, of course, i'd love to see the prompt "hayride" and/or "flannel shirt" for newmann :3

from autumn fic meme here: 25. Hayride + 28. Flannel Shirt

HELLO ERICA....YES OF COURSE.......have some post-movie newt and hermann as roommates with a side of mutual (not that they realize) pining

————————————————————————

It takes Hermann ten days to agree to the idea when Newton first proposes it, and even then, he’s skeptical; he blames his allergies first (dust, dead leaves, mold), his back (extra-sensitive to being jostled about), his schedule (too busy, Newton, really, perhaps next year), before Newton—evidently quite desperate—finally decides to just bribe him into it. “It’s literally thirty minutes,” he begs, “it’s fun, and I’ll do the dishes for a whole month afterwards. A whole month! For thirty minutes of fun bonding with me.”

This is no small compromise: in all of their time sharing close quarters, from the professional nature of their laboratory to the more—well, er—intimate friendship of their two-bedroom-flat, Newton has never once put a single plate in the dishwasher, never once wiped down a single coffee mug, never once even offered to rinse off a damn fork. “Make it two,” Hermann says, “and you’ve got a deal.”

“You’re a dick,” Newton says, but agrees to the terms.

Hermann knows Newt will get lazy and fall back on the deal in a week or so, but even that one week will be a welcome change from the usual course of things (i.e., Hermann doing everything) and a great big sacrifice for Newton (i.e., eating chips on the sofa in his underwear) he can’t imagine is worth it. All to pay $20 to sit in the back of a tractor full of hay and be shaken and jostled around for half an hour. Absurd.

“It’s fun. It’s a fall tradition,” Newton shouts over the engine, “like dressing up as a slutty nurse or remaking ‘Halloween’ for the tenth time.” A woman sitting across from them pulls two children closer to her knees and shoots Newton a dirty look; Newton smiles sheepishly. “Dressing up as a wholesome, chaste nurse,” he corrects, “who—”

They drive over a particularly large bump, and Newton bounces off his bale of hay and to the wooden planks of the tractor bed at Hermann’s feet. “Ow.”

Hermann rolls his eyes and offers a hand. “Here we are, Newton,” he says, helping him to his knees with a grunt, “up you go—”

“Thanks, mom,” Newton says. He squeezes back in next to Hermann, wriggling strictly more than necessary, elbow jostling into Hermann’s side; Hermann jabs him back with his own elbow. “Anyway, it’s important for us to, you know, do that kind of stuff now. Normal stuff. Annual traditions.” His eyes flicker down to his boots. “Together. You and me.”

Hermann coughs. He knows the point Newton is trying to make, at least: until recently, they haven’t had the time to do these sorts of things, or even the time to consider these sorts of things—it was difficult to put an effort into making annual traditions when the odds were high they wouldn’t survive that year, let alone the next. And Hermann would know. He calculated the odds himself. “You and me,” he echoes. 

It’s their first autumn they’re settled in as roommates. Colleagues. Friends. It makes sense. Friends make traditions together. Newton is only his friend.

(The Newton of now is far more mellow than the Newton Hermann shared a laboratory with for nearly a decade. He’s less prone to shouting. Less prone to arguments. More prone to listening to Hermann. Softer, somehow, even physically, his hair a bit longer, his stubble a bit scruffier, his cheeks a bit fuller. It’s different—not better, not worse, but different. Hermann finds it suits him. Hermann finds it suits him very, very well. Sometimes, when Newton shuffles around in the early mornings in nothing but boxers and a hoodie, when he sits next to Hermann on their couch and offers him coffee with a smile, when he packs Hermann lunch and doodles a few Sharpie hearts on the brown bag, Hermann doesn’t want to be just his friend.)

“I’m surprised you’ve never done one of these before,” Newton is saying. “Didn’t you grow up on a farm?”

“It wasn’t an actual farm,” Hermann says. “But there were—chickens. And an old barn.” There was a broken-down and rusted old tractor in the barn when they bought the property, and plenty of fields (though quite overgrown), so Hermann imagines it’d been a farm at least at some point in time. It wasn’t when he lived there.

The answer seems to satisfy Newton. “My dad used to drive us out to the middle of nowhere to go on these every October,” he says. The wind is blowing the hair from his face, and he’s smiling in that way that makes Hermann feel funny—makes his chest tighten up, his pulse race. “Hayride, then pumpkin picking. Then we’d drive all the way home to carve them for our front step.” Another elbow against Hermann’s side. “We should totally go pumpkin-picking next weekend.”

“What’s the point? We can just go to the shops for one. Probably half the price.”

“Yeah, but that’s not fun,” Newton says.

The tractor hitch jerks and jostles them again, and Hermann’s back hits the wooden bench hard. “This isn’t particularly fun either,” he snaps. “It’s uncomfortable, it’s crowded, it’s bloody cold, too—” It’s freezing, actually, only more so because they’re moving. Hermann’s already planning a hot shower when they get home. 

“You’re such a baby,” Newton says. 

“A baby?”

“Here I am,” Newton says, “trying to make memories with my best friend—” Before Hermann can even begin to comment on his choice of words, Newton is suddenly yanking off his flannel shirt—leaving himself wearing nothing but his jeans and a tight t-shirt—and tossing it at Hermann. “Just wear this and stop whining.”

Hermann stares at it dumbly. “Your—?”

“Yes,” Newton says. “My flannel. It’s warm. You’re gonna look dumb with it over your sweater, but you’ll be warmer.” When Hermann opens his mouth to protest, because it’s Newton’s flannel, Hermann won’t take it and let him freeze instead, Newton shakes his head and shoves it against Hermann’s chest. “I’m serious, Hermann. I gotta a lot of body heat. I’ll survive.”

Hermann pulls it on over his sweater. It’s large on Newton—Newton, who’s shorter than Hermann, but stockier and nowhere near as skinny—which means it fits easily over all of Hermann’s layers, and it is, indeed, very warm, though it makes Hermann feel a bit like a marshmallow. It also smells like Newton: like his aftershave, his Old Spice deodorant, his fruity shampoo, the coffee he manages to spill on himself every single day. It’s like being wrapped up in Newton’s arms. Like a great big hug. (Or so Hermann assumes; he and Newton don’t make a habit of hugging.)

"I look a ridiculous,” Hermann declares. 

“You look cuuuuute,” Newton says, grinning, and knocks the heel of his right boot against Hermann’s left oxford. “Like a big, puffy—”

“Three months, Newton,” Hermann warns. “Three months—“

He means to tack on, retroactively, to Newton’s dishwashing sentence, but they go over another bump, and this one sends Hermann losing his balance and falling forward right into Newton’s lap. “Whoops,” Newton laughs. Hermann blinks dazedly up at him. “You okay, dude?”

Even sideways, and hovering above Hermann with his hair in his face, Newton is distressingly handsome. Hermann’s always found him distressingly handsome. It’s very unfair. “Yes,” Hermann says. “I lost my balance.” The wind carries another whiff of Newton’s deodorant towards him, and his mouth goes dry. He feels dizzy. “Er—would you mind, Newton—?”

It’s Newton’s turn to help him straighten back up; though, when he’s finished, he doesn’t move his arm out from behind Hermann’s back, but curls his fingers around Hermann’s waist instead. “A pumpkin,” he says, breath puffing out warm against the shell of Hermann’s ear, and Hermann must fight to not shiver, “from an actual pumpkin patch. We can each carve a side. How about that?”

“Only if you clean up the mess,” Hermann relents, finding it very difficult to deny Newton anything at the moment.

Newton’s grin returns. He gives Hermann’s waist a squeeze. “Deal.”

[cami-chats]

A Family Man

Chapter One (of 2)

Fandom: Charmed, Supernatural (yes it’s a crossover)

Pairings: Piper Halliwell/Dean Winchester

Warnings: None, except maybe some Leo bashing bc really what tf was that

Piper was obviously pregnant. Her other kid was around a year old, so she was almost certainly still with the father, whoever that might be. She didn't wear a wedding ring, but some people didn't, and besides, Dean had heard that pregnancy made your fingers swell up so it was possible that she did usually wear her ring, she just couldn't right now. Anyways, the point was that she wasn't interested in anyone-- let alone Dean-- but there was no harm in looking. Especially when she was that gorgeous. It wasn't a model sort of beauty like Dean used to shoot for when he was hunting and dropping by bars for some diversion, but she was undoubtedly gorgeous.

With the yellow eyed demon gone and Sam back at college, Dean needed to do something with his life, and living on the run with a string of crimes following him wasn't as appealing as it used to be. Working at a nightclub wasn't exactly settling down, but at least he had a legitimate work history now. Besides, P3 was great, and Piper hadn't blinked at giving him his first several paychecks in cash before he had enough to open a bank account.

Funny as it was to think about, he was bonafide now. Sam would bust out laughing if he could see him now. Then again, Sam was a can of worms he didn't want to mess with right now. Or any time soon. He unlocked the door and started down the stairs, hesitating in one of his steps when he saw Piper sitting at the bar, head hung at whatever she was thinking about.

"Piper? What are you doing here so early?"

She startled, but in the next moment, she seemed perfectly at ease, turning around to smile at him. "Hey Dean. I was-" she gestured vaguely, "talking to Chris."

"Chris is here?" Dean asked hopefully. Chris was always happy to see him, and he was probably the best friend Dean had right now.

"He just left."

"Damn." At Piper's bemused look, he added, "I like him. Guy's my only friend around here."

"Huh." She had her head cocked slightly, like she was putting together a puzzle that Dean couldn't see.

"Uh... something wrong with that?" he asked, a little nervous. Chris felt like his best connection to the normal world, but Piper was his boss; if she fired him, he was screwed, and he wasn’t sure his friendship with Chris was good enough to risk his life for.

"No, of course not. It's just, Chris doesn't get along with... people. Not usually anyways."

"Must mean I'm special," he joked, smirking.

Piper seemed to take him seriously though, her expression thoughtful. "Must be. You want some help setting up?" she offered, already getting out of her seat.

"You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You know, between you and my family, I'm liable to blow something up if I keep getting side-lined like this."

Dean shrugged. "It's your club, do what you want."

Piper raised an eyebrow, trying to project snootiness though she was obviously amused. "I will."

After a minute, Piper put on some music to pump through the speakers. Weird as it might sound, Dean had the best prep shift ever. He didn't really think about it through the dancing-along's and mouthing-the-word's party they had on the fly. "It's been a while since I've had this much fun," Piper said.

"Me too, "he admitted. And what fun he had had in the past was often interspersed with hunts that went to hell, so the memories were sour to him. Even his time with Sam hadn’t been like this, with Sam always trying to keep them going so he could get back to his ‘real’ life. Any time Dean had tried to make light of the situation, Sam had glared at him or gotten all moody.

"With Leo and everything," she started to explain before trailing off as her happy mood faltered.

"Who's Leo?"

"Ex-husband," she said, making a face. She ran a hand over her swelling stomach, and Dean could imagine what that 'everything' entailed. Learning that she was single had no victory since she was clearly left in a bad spot by it.

"Sounds like an asshole," he said flatly. Say what you want about John Winchester, but at least he'd loved his wife.

"You don't know anything about him," Piper said, but she was holding back laughter.

"Going from your reaction, I'm guessing he left you. Right?"

Still looking amused, she nodded.

Dean shrugged. "Then he's an asshole."

Piper laughed, looking lighter for it. "It's not actually that simple, but... thanks. I can't really talk to anyone else about it. I mean, I could, but I don't want to unload to my sisters about it. They'd try to make it better, and he'd be around for a bit, and then he'd leave again to work for the 'greater good'."

"Bastard sounds like my dad," Dean said. Oh John had been obsessed with revenge, but he'd made the decision to sacrifice his sons' childhoods so that other families wouldn't suffer the way he had. The way 'they' had suffered was how he phrased it, of course. Dean had thought about it a lot since he and Sammy went their different ways after ganking the monster, and he still didn't know how he felt about it, because it wasn’t just their childhoods that had been messed with, it was their entire lives.

"Sounds complicated."

Dean snorted. "That ain't the half of it." He shook off the topic and tried a smile. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem. It's nice to feel useful for once."

"He must be crazy to leave you behind," Dean muttered, not really meaning to.

The way Piper looked at him though, it was clear that she'd heard.

Dean cleared his throat, blushing. God it had been so long since he'd blushed that it only served to make him more nervous. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a charged moment where they looked at each other.

It wasn't actually a surprise in the moment that it happened, but leading up to it confused him. Piper was shorter than him by half a foot, so she had to lean up and pull his face down to meet her in order to reach. She was kissing him, and there was none of the vibrant electricity all his past relationships had demanded. This was soft and comfortable, and he leaned down further so she wasn't straining. His hands went to her hips automatically, and he could just barely feel the swell of her stomach against his palms.

"I um," Piper licked her lips as they stopped. "I hope that wasn't inappropriate of me."

"I'm pretty sure I was the one that hit on you."

"Still, I'm your boss. If you're worried this might affect your job-"

"It won't." Dean kissed her again, and for an instant she kissed him back.

She pulled back abruptly, taking a few steps to give him space. "I have a child. I'm about to have another."

"I know. Wyatt's a great kid. I'd like-" Dean stopped, rubbed his hand over his jaw and tried again. "If you'd let me, I think I could be decent at the whole family thing. If that's what you want."

"It's complicated," she said with a sad smile. She wanted to give in, that much was clear, but with (almost) two children, she had more at stake than her heart.

"What isn't? I just-" Dean swallowed, "I think this could work if we tried."

"My life is... it's too complicated, Dean. I can't drag you into that."

Sensing that her mind was made up, Dean nodded. "Right." He looked away, feeling hot and embarrassed. "If that's how you feel then-." He nodded again. "I uh, should go unlock the door for the crew, they'll be here soon."

"Sounds good," Piper said, and he ignored the strain in her voice since she'd been nice enough to not point out the one in his.

He was in a bit of a mood for the rest of the night, but he was pretty sure no one noticed. It's not like he blamed Piper for her choice-- she did have children and her closely-knit family to consider amongst whatever other family drama they had-- but it was still depressing. He hadn't thought he had a chance for so long, and then for one great moment, he'd had it. Even better, Piper was the one that had kissed him, not the other way around. This is what real life was like though right? Relationships didn't get out of the starting gate, and his biggest worry was whether or not the pizza place down the road from his apartment would be open by the time he got home.

He got to leave promptly when the actual concert started, so he made it back with plenty of time to grab a pizza. Absolutely delicious, cheap, dripping grease pizza. He felt better just thinking about it. He didn't want to subject Baby's seat to that though, so he parked in the apartment's garage and walked the half-block over.

As soon as he was out the door, he folded a piece in half and shoved it in his mouth, juggling the box for a moment as he closed it and got everything back in order. Pizza couldn't fix everything, but that's where pie came in, to fix the other half. He didn't have pie though, so this would have to do for tonight.

He turned on the tv and polished off the rest of the box. Then he realized that he was still in jeans and changed into sleep pants, shucking off his shirt and throwing it in the laundry hamper-- because he had a laundry hamper now, that was the kind of turn his life had taken. He sat back on the couch and wondered if he should even attempt sleeping yet. It wasn't too late, and he was used to staying up for a few more hours when he was closing at P3. Laying in bed might be pointless and only serve to make it harder to get to sleep.

A knock came at the door, and he frowned. A few people knew where he lived, but it's not like they ever visited. Chances were it was someone who had the wrong apartment, a common problem with half the numbers peeled or missing from the doors. He looked through the peephole out of habit, then frowned at what he saw: Piper. Why was Piper at his doorstep?

He unhooked the chain and unlocked the door, opening it slowly. "Piper? What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping we could talk. About earlier."

Dean's frown deepened, even as he opened the door wider to let her in. "I thought we said everything we needed to."

"Not really." She ran a hand through her hair as she walked in, the long strands seamlessly falling into their new place.

He closed the door but didn't lock it, not wanting her to feel confined.

"Listen," she said, turning to him. She hesitated, eyes trailing over his bare torso. Her cheeks pinked, but she brought her eyes back up to his face like it didn't happen. "My family requires a lot from me, and from anyone I'm dating. Leo-- my ex-husband-- he knew about the details from the start so I didn't have to worry about it, and it just seems like every time I find someone new, they can't handle it."

"I think you'd be surprised at how much I can take." He crossed his arms over his chest, and Piper's eyes flickered down automatically.

"I'd love to find out, but it. It's too big a risk."

"You said that earlier, Piper," he said, not judging. "We already talked about this, why are you here?"

She hesitated, and he understood: she wanted to give in, but she needed to be convinced, for him to take the first step.

He swallowed, wondering if this was the right decision but knowing he was going to try it anyways. "You know, it doesn't have to be that serious. We can... try it on. See if it goes anywhere, and deal with the problems as they come."

"I have a kid," she reminded him, but it was obvious now that she felt that she needed to remind him, not that it was a denial.

"That doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"Pregnant ladies don't really get to have fun if it's not about the pregnancy."

"Says who?" Dean made a show of looking around the apartment, then stepped closer so they were in the same space. "I don't see anyone here but you and me."

He started to lean down, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. Plenty of time to say 'actually you know what I was wrong, sorry'. But she didn't. She tilted her head up, smiling slightly when he bumped their noses together teasingly before pressing their lips together. It shouldn't have been a life-changing moment, but the way they molded together felt like something he'd been missing his whole life. One of her hands came up to help hold him in place, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. Her other hand went up to his arm, curving to the skin easily as he put his hand in the middle of her back and pulled her closer.

It had been a long time since Dean kissed someone for so long his lips started to feel sore, but here it was, happening to him as a grown-ass adult. He had an ache in his back from leaning down for so long, but he didn't want to stop. He felt absolutely desperate, his cock hard and straining against his boxer-briefs, and his best comfort was that Piper didn't look much better. Her pupils were blown wide, and her cheeks were stained red with want. Both of their lips were swollen from kissing for so long. Taking a chance, Dean asked, "Do you want to come to my room?"

"Yes," she said immediately, before he had time to worry that he was pushing for too much. It was a small place, so they were in his room a few seconds later.

"Can I take this off?" Dean asked, sliding his hands under her shirt on the sides. In response, she lifted her arms, so Dean picked up the edges and pulled it up. His eyes roved over her skin, and he followed it with his hands a moment later when he realized he could. "You're gorgeous," he breathed. He kissed her again, fingers playing with the clasp on her bra in question.

She gave his arms a squeeze in answer, and he flicked his fingers, undoing it. Piper stepped back and dropped it on the ground, then pushed her pants past her hips and climbed on his bed. She lay there, head propped up on pillows and legs slightly spread showing trimmed pubic hair and a glistening entrance.

"So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, pushing his pants and underwear down in one go. He knew it would be smarter to grab a condom and lube now, but he wanted to kiss her again and nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

Piper groaned, one of her legs curving over Dean in an instinctual bid to keep him there. "Dean," she gasped. "Please."

"Sorry," he said quickly, giving her a quick peck. "Didn't mean to tease. Just can't stop kissing you." He kissed her cheek three times in rapid succession, causing her to giggle. He grinned, giving her one last kiss before rolling off her and rifling through the nightstand. He opened a condom packet, then hesitated before putting it on. "You sure you want this?"

Instead of making some sort of joke about how ready she was, she grinned at him. She had a few crooked teeth, and in the light of the streetlamps, it was obvious she was pregnant. Her hair was half stuck under her back and half splayed out on his cheap sheets. Dean had never wanted someone more. "I'm sure," she said. "Come on and show me how good our relationship can be."

He grinned back at her. "I can do that, no problem." He rolled on the condom, following it with a little lube just to be safe. Once he was back between her legs, she bent her knees to make the angle better. He slid inside slowly, knowing that he could go faster but wanting to take his time. Piper was warm and wet, and he wanted this to last forever at the same time he wanted to fuck her hard and give both of them the completion they were craving.

Dean rocked into her, responding to each of her gasps of pleasure with a moan of his own. It was slow and sweet, building up so leisurely that he was almost surprised when he came, grinding their hips together as she clutched at his shoulders.

"God, Dean, that was," she trailed off with an appreciative laugh.

Feeling very proud of himself, he smiled, giving her another kiss. "Yeah." Laying on top of her was lots of fun for him, but certainly less for her, so he rolled to the side, carefully taking the condom off so he wouldn't make a mess.

"Mm." Her eyes closed, and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep just as she was. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. It's just right over there," he said unnecessarily, pointing in its direction.

"Thanks." She pushed herself up and went over. After she peed, she walked back over and sat on the bed.

"You can stay if you want." He'd prefer it that way, of course, but they'd agreed that this didn't have to be serious.

Piper thought it over, then laid down. "Maybe for a little bit." She stretched her arms with a satisfied groan, and Dean took the chance to use the bathroom himself and get cleaned up. He went back to the living room and locked the door.

He'd expected for it to be awkward when he got back because that's what he was used to, but there was a comfortable air in the room when he got under the covers with her. Getting to sleep had always been easier after sex, and this time was no exception.

It was a rude awakening when a phone started ringing, echoing in the sparsely decorated room. "What the-" He reached for his on the nightstand automatically, but it was silent.

Piper groaned, throwing the covers off of her and rifling through her pant's pockets on the ground until she found it. She flicked it open with an annoyed, "What?" as she sat back on the bed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is something wrong? Was there an attack?" Pause. "Then why-?" She blew out a breath. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I forgot to call. No I'll be home in a little bit." She rolled her eyes as she got back up and started picking up her clothes. "Don't come get me, I drove. I swear to god Paige, you worry more than Chris. Yeah yeah, I love you too." She hung up and rubbed her eyes.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah, my family's just worried. I forgot to tell them I wouldn't be by until late."

Dean checked his clock. They hadn't been asleep more than an hour, which explained why he felt so stupidly tired right now. He ran a hand over his face, then sat up. He grabbed a pair of underwear and slid them on, then helped Piper gather the rest of her clothes.

"Thanks," she said, then again when she was at the door. She pulled him down for another kiss. "I had a great time. See you around?"

"Definitely. Have a safe drive."

They smiled at each other again, and she left, hair softly tousled in a way that made Dean's heart ache.

[trillhouse-lh]

You Pervert

> Loan sighed, half-heartedly watching the screen as she lazily browsed an anime streaming site. Normally, she would stick to more legitimate sources, but she’d already watched everything that interested her on Crunchyroll… and quite frankly she just wasn’t in the mood to play any games at the moment. Granted, she wasn’t really in the mood to watch anything either, but she was bored and needed SOMETHING to occupy her time. As if on cue, a knock at the door snapped her from her stupor. > “Wh-who is it?” Loan called out. The door opened to reveal Liena, standing with a laundry basket in hand and a kind smile adorning her chubby face. “Oh… hello, Liena.” She said, returning her younger sister’s smile. Liena nodded in acknowledgement, silently walking over and setting the basket down on Loan’s bed. “Thank you… um, y-you didn’t need to go through the trouble, I would have gone to get them...” > (It’s okay.) Liena signed. (I had to.....Lemy.....dirt.) Loan cocked her head in confusion, and Liena thought a moment before trying again. (Lemy clothes smell bad.) > “Oh… I see,” Loan said with a laugh. “Well, thanks again.” Liena grinned, giving another small nod before hurrying out and shutting the door behind her. Loan looked at the laundry basket, finding that the clothes within were already neatly folded and ready to be put in the closet. It was easy to forget just how much Liena did for the family… Loan hoped that she took some time for herself every now and then. In any case, at least she had something to do now. > She looked back at the screen with a frown, quickly picking an anime at random… ‘Boku no Pico’. The name sounded familiar, but beyond that she had no idea what it was actually about. Still, it was more for background noise than anything, so she simply shrugged and put it on before sliding off the bed.

> Once, Loan may have procrastinated with chores such as these, if she even bothered doing them at all. But as long as she was living under her father’s roof she was determined not to be a nuisance. Besides, she wanted to get better, and sticking to old habits would do nothing to help that. > Loan got to work as the video started, an overly-cutesy theme song quickly filling her ears. ‘So it’s a shoujo series,’ she figured, taking a quick glance up to confirm her suspicions- > ...Oh. It was one of THOSE animes. > Barely a few seconds into the opening theme, the entirety of the frame was taken up by a close-up of a young girl’s butt as she rode her bike, wearing what could only be described as the tightest clothing ever conceived. Loan rolled her eyes. Fanservice was one thing, certainly something she’d come to expect from anime in general... but to get this risque THIS quickly was a clear sign that it wasn’t for her. With a shake of her head, she got back to work; she’d change it to something better in a moment. > Or… perhaps she could give it a chance, at least? After all, it wouldn’t be the first time an anime’s OP was misleading. She frowned, taking another glance at the screen only to be met with yet another close-up of the girl’s butt. She let out a sigh and massaged her temples. She’d seen a lot over the years, but never an anime THIS shameless. > ...Wait. What was that? > Almost as soon as she had noticed it, the scene changed to another. Loan blinked, unsure if she had really seen what she thought she had. Between the girl’s legs, she could have sworn she saw a small bulge… but no, it couldn’t be. She shook the thought aside; it must have simply been an animation error- > Oh, no.

> After a few more quick cuts, an image filled the screen: the girl bound up bondage-style, her skirt hiked up to reveal her white panties… > ...Sporting a clear outline of something a girl should most definitely NOT have. > “O-oh my God,” Loan gasped, her face turning bright red. She was frozen in place, her mind struggling to process what she was looking at. The ‘girl’ in a wet t-shirt. Topless on ‘her’ bed, wearing naught but panties as she pulled off her stockings. Various shots of her completely nude, naughty bits conveniently hidden from view. > Embraced from behind by a very clearly older man, blushing demurely as the man reached around to stroke his... > “...AaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Loan shrieked, snatching up the controller and frantically trying to stop the video. She couldn’t watch this. Hell, she couldn’t even have this in her history. Was it even LEGAL?! So flustered was she that she managed to do naught but pause it before dropping the controller to the ground. “Oh come on!” She hissed, stooping down to pick it up. > “Loan?! Did you just scr-” Loan froze, her blood running cold and the controller dropping from her hands once more. She slowly turned toward the doorway to find none other than Lyra standing there, staring at the screen with a look of horror and disgust plastered across her face. > “L-Ly… LYRA?!” Loan sputtered, frantically waving her arms as she attempted to explain herself. “I-I swear this isn’t what it looks like…!” Whatever she may have said to defend herself, Lyra wasn’t listening; her lips pressed tightly into a thin line, her hands balling into fists and shaking with anger.

> Lyra had always had her suspicions about Loan. For a girl her age to spend all her time cooped up inside playing games and watching cartoons was unusual to say the least, not to mention the company she chose to keep. > As far as Lyra could tell, the woman had no friends her own age, instead preferring the company of their younger brothers. Well, TWO of them at least: Bobby and, perhaps even more worrisome to the teen, Lemy. She claimed to simply get along better with kids, but then why did she never spend time with Lacy, or Lupa, or Leia? Clearly something was afoot, but despite Lyra’s best attempts she’d never managed to catch her in the act… until now. > “You… you PERVERT,” She hissed, making Loan wince. > “I-I’m not-” > “I always knew you were up to something,” Lyra pressed on. “I can’t believe I’ve been letting you bring Lemy and Bobby in here unsupervised.” Loan’s brow furrowed in confusion, only for her eyes to go wide as the accusation set in. > “W-wait… WAIT! I-I never… I’m not like that!” She pleaded. > “What in God’s name is THIS, then?!” She spat, pointing at the screen. “And a cartoon, no less… looking to indoctrinate them into your sick fantasies, are you?!” > “I-I didn’t know what it was!” > “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” Lyra sneered. “You just HAPPENED to put on this pedophilic smut, then?” > “I’m NOT a-” > “You listen here, Loan.” The teen strode up to her sister, making the older woman shrink back in fear. “If you EVER go near any of our brothers again, I’ll make you regret it more than you could ever imagine. Do you understand me?!” > “I-I didn’t…” Loan whimpered; she looked as though she could burst into tears at any moment. Scared of being exposed for what she really was, no doubt. With one final warning glare Lyra turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

> Lyra stopped in the hallway, taking a few deep breaths to compose herself. She often had to remind herself that Loan was a very troubled girl, and had to give her at least some leeway compared to the others… but THIS was a different matter. Despite her warning, a big part of her wanted to report the issue to their father and Ronnie straightaway. Well… their father, at least. Lyra didn’t want to think about what Ronnie might do to the girl. > She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. She needed to calm down and clear her mind before considering her options here. With a sigh, she made her way downstairs. As she reached the bottom step, however, the front door swung open. > “-tellin’ ya, dude, they ain’t so tough.” It was none other than Lemy, Bobby following closely behind. “If either of ‘em had the balls to take me on one-on-one, I’d totally wreck ‘em.” He boasted, puffing out his chest haughtily. > “Yeah… I’m sure you would, Lemy.” His unconvinced younger brother said with a roll of his eyes. “Haven’t you and Hayden already… oh, hi, Lyra.” > “Huh? Oh, hey. ‘Sup, Ly’?” Lemy nonchalantly greeted his sister. The girl crossed her arms, looking down at the two with pursed lips. > “What’s all this about fighting?” Lyra asked disapprovingly; her little brother simply shrugged. > “Hypothermically.” > “...Hypothetically, Lemy...” Bobby corrected him. > “Yeah, that one,” The boy said as he stuck a pinky in his ear, wiggling it to clean it out much to Lyra’s disgust. > “Lemy, for goodness’ sake, go use a q-tip. We’re not living in a zoo,” She chastised him. Lemy huffed and popped his finger out of his ear, examining it for any stray wax. > “Yeah, yeah… c’mon, Beej,” He grumbled, heading past his sister with Bobby in tow. > “See you later, Lyra…” Bobby said. The girl waved, only for something to cross her mind.

> “Wait… wait you two, one moment,” She said; Lemy let out an exaggerated groan, stopping mid-stride and shooting her a look of irritation. > “Alright, alright… what’d I do this time?” Lemy asked. “‘Cause I swear I’ve got an explanation.” > “...I don’t know… what DID you do, Lemy?” Lyra fired back, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. The boys exchanged a nervous glance before an unconvincingly innocent smile crossed their places. > “N-nothing… um, what’d you need, sis?” Lemy asked in a faux-polite tone. Lyra sighed, shaking her head in resignation. She just couldn’t be bothered with it for now. > “Right, well… you two spend a lot of time with Loan, yes?” > “Yeah, why?” Lemy replied. > “I-is something wrong?” Bobby asked nervously. Lyra was about to answer in the affirmative, but she caught herself. > “Has Loan ever… done anything strange?” She asked. Lemy thought about it for a moment before shrugging. > “Not really.” > “I mean… she’s kinda strange anyway, isn’t she...?” Bobby pointed out. “I-in a good way, though.” > “No, no, I mean has she ever done anything that made you feel... uncomfortable?” Lyra clarified. The boys each cocked an eyebrow, exchanging another glance before looking back to their sister. > “...Uncomfortable how…?” Lemy asked. > “I mean, DONE anything… said anything inappropriate, or put her hands somewhere she shouldn’t-” > “W-wait, you mean like ‘bad touch’?!” Bobby gasped, his eyes going wide. “N-NO! Of course she hasn’t…!” > “Yeah, what the heck Lyra? Loan’s not like that,” Lemy agreed. “I mean, she likes to snuggle, but not like THAT.” Lyra frowned and kneeled down to their level.

> “Look… I won’t tell anyone,” She promised. “You can be honest with me. If she’s-” > “She’s NOT,” Lemy repeated, seemingly irritated by his sister’s accusation. > “Yeah… she’s nice,” His brother chimed in. “I like being with her. S-she’d never do anything like that…”Lyra hesitated a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she studied their faces. Finally, she got to her feet with a sigh. > “...Alright. That’s all… you two can go,” Lyra said. Her brothers exchanged one final look of confusion, shrugging before they turned and made their way upstairs. Lyra watched them go before turning and heading out the door herself. > Lyra sat down on the patio with a huff to mull over the situation. Had she been wrong…? She’d SEEN what Loan was watching with her own eyes… but who would watch something like that without locking the door? > Plus, the woman had been adamant that it was a misunderstanding, and Loan had certainly never been a very good liar. The more Lyra thought about it the more it didn’t add up, and the worse she felt about how she’d treated her older sister. > “Ugh… nice, Lyra. Nice,” She scolded herself, burying her face in her palm.  God, no wonder Loan had looked so upset… she’d accused the poor girl of something awful, not even letting her plead her case. Suspicions or not, she should have at least heard Loan out. But no… once again, Lyra had jumped to conclusions. She groaned and dragged her hand down her face. Her mom and Lemy were right; she really WAS too uptight for her own good. “...I should go apologize, at least...” She muttered as she got to her feet.

> Upstairs, Loan sat downcast at the foot of her bed, staring down at her lap sadly. She wasn’t sure what she should do, or say, or even think about the current situation. Not that she could blame Lyra… were their positions reversed even SHE might not have believed it. WHO WOULD LISTEN TO A NUTCASE LIKE YOU, ANYWAY?

> Loan sighed and shook the thoughts away. Whatever the case, all she could do was let Lyra cool down and try to explain herself again later. For the time being she still had laundry to put away, and she certainly needed SOME sort of task to keep her mind off things. May as well be something productive, right? > The young woman got to her feet and got back to work. However, as she whittled down the stacks of cleaned clothing, she spotted something out of place: all the way at the bottom lay a faded, purple tank top, far smaller than any of the other shirts. > “Is this Lemy’s…?” She muttered; with so many people living under one roof, it wasn’t unusual for some of their clothes to get mixed together by accident. Indeed, the shirt did look to be one of Lemy’s… the baked-in stains were a dead giveaway. “Has this even been washed?” She said with a grimace, bringing the shirt to her face to take a sniff. > ...And, as if on cue, the door swung open. > “Hey, Loan… listen, I…” Lyra trailed off as her gaze fell on Loan; the girl had her face buried in one of Lemy’s recently-worn shirts, taking in a big whiff of the young boy’s scent. Loan sighed as she lowered she shirt. > “Yeah, that’s definitely not… um…” Loan’s eyes met Lyra’s and, for some time, neither moved or said a word. Then the tank top slipped from her hand and she raised her palms in submission, giving a small, nervous laugh. “U-um… I swear, th-this isn’t what it l-looks like…” She stammered as Lyra grit her teeth, her face turning red-hot with fury. > “Y-YOU PERVERT!”

[thethespacecoyote]

I wrote something quick about modern AU Kylo taking care of a sick and pregnant Hux. Nothing more than that, just some light fluff. 

Crackers, ginger ale, acetaminophen, tissues, Kylo repeats in his head, though he has it written down in his phone as well. He’s trying to map out the grocery store in his mind, to preemptively determine where everything is so he can get in at out as quickly as possible. He pulls his car into park and yanks up his hood to shield himself from the rain, getting out the driver’s side door once he stuffs a brightly-colored reusable bag into his jacket. It’s made of some kind of flimsy compostable material, and while Kylo is pretty sure it’s not going to melt in something as common as rain, he’d rather not have Hux complaining that he ruined one of his favorite grocery bags.

He jogs across the parking lot, managing to dodge most of the puddles but soaking his tennis shoe on the last one, just as he ducks under the store’s awning. He frowns at the squelch as he takes each step, realizing he’ll have to throw the unfortunate shoe into the dryer later, lest Hux complain about him tracking rainwater through the house.

He grabs a green plastic basket from besides the entrance, shuffling through the rest of the late-night, last-minute shoppers. They don’t have the exact brand of diet ginger ale Hux likes best in the large, one-liter bottles, so Kylo settles for a six pack of little cans rather than opting for the full sugar variant. He knows too much sweetness leaves Hux feeling a little queasy, and that’s the opposite of what he wants for his mate, especially given the circumstances.

Thankfully, the supermarket carries the type of crackers Hux had written down for him, the little, flake-like variety people liked to float in clam chowder. He’s been meaning to make soup lately, thanks to the weather, so Kylo grabs a couple cartons of chicken stock, noodles, and a bushel of celery as well. Hux may bitch at him later for digging into their grocery budget, but Kylo can’t imagine he’ll say no to a fresh bowl of home-made soup considering his condition.

Oddly, Hux has become a little more pliable in areas thanks to the pregnancy. He’ll complain more about Kylo not using a cologne he likes or preparing breakfast in a way Hux has currently deemed untenable, than whether he spends over their monthly allotment, priorities shifted to immediate needs rather than long-term planning. Perhaps not the best change, considering how much preparation is needed for a child, much less two, but thankfully Hux hasn’t gone over and completely lost his meticulous edge, if his recent spate of baby-proofing is any indication. What’s more, they’re blessed with family on Kylo’s side that could be convinced to lend a hand should the couple ever find themselves in a  trying spot.  

The tissues and painkillers are easy finds in the first aid and home care aisle, and soon Kylo’s jogging back to the front registers, eager to get home. The cashier, a tired-looking but otherwise pleasant beta, shoots him a small knowing smile, no doubt detecting the scent of needy, pregnant omega clinging to his jacket, as she arranges his purchases into the reusable bag. Kylo’s grateful she doesn’t introduce any unnecessary small talk apart from a quick “thank you, have a nice night” as he snags his groceries and makes his way back to his car.

All he can think about right now is getting home to Hux.

Rainwater slats off his windshield, not looking like it’ll let up anytime soon. Thankfully, he’s not far from home, and before long he’s pulling into their garage and entering inside, relaxing in the change in warmth. He sheds his jacket, hanging it on the little peg on the door, leaving him in only his shirt.

Millicent mews softly, hopping off her customary roost on Hux’s empty armchair and coming to greet Kylo at the door. Though he’s eager to tend to his mate, he takes the time to peel open a fresh can of food and drop it into her bowl, knowing Hux would become upset if he left her to go hungry. He pets her for a moment as she eats, rubbing where the fur fluffs up around her little red collar, before unpacking the groceries and putting the perishables away in the fridge.

Now, with everything else taken care of, Kylo grabs the painkillers and pours the ginger ale in a tall glass of ice and walks to their bedroom, carefully nudging open the slightly-ajar door.

The lights inside are dimmed to the same setting he’d left them in, giving the sick omega less aggravation for his pounding headache. Kylo slips inside, the carpeting cushioning his footsteps as he makes his way over to the bed. He softly calls out his mate’s name as he crouches at his side, moving a nearly empty glass of water from the coaster on the nightstand to replace it with the ginger ale.  

Hux lies on his side, fluffy blankets from all over the house piled high on top of him. His head pokes out of the nest, ginger hair mussed over his pillow as he nuzzles against it. His left hand clutches the blue baby blanket Kylo’s mother had bought for them, that Hux has decided to cover in his own scent rather than leave sitting in the dresser until one of the pups can use it. It’s a sweet little habit that Kylo doesn’t dare draw attention to, for fear that Hux will stop out of embarrassment.

He pets the blanket’s delicate fabric and watches Kylo through sleepy eyes, curious expression falling into disapproval as the alpha raises the bottle of painkillers, shaking it softly. Hux furrows his brow.

“It’s safe. I promise. And you’re only going to take one.” Kylo unscrews the top, jiggling out one little white pill into his hand. He settles on the edge of the bed and forces Hux to sit up, which he manages after no small amount of fussing and wincing. The folds of the bedcovers slid down to reveal the top part of his belly, where his navy sweater stretches out, just barely able to cover the swell.

Hux is in the beginnings of his third trimester and certainly feeling the wear of pregnancy, though neither he nor Kylo expected him to fall ill while carrying their twins. Yesterday, when Hux had first nearly lost his balance while pushing up from the dining table, Kylo had barely been able to stifle his panic long enough to call their doctor. When Hux’s fever and dizziness had only grown worst, he’d been right on the verge of calling an ambulance, and no doubt would have if not for the doctor’s willingness to make a house call. Kylo had paced the entire time, sensing Hux’s worrisome temperature and discomfort through the strength of his bond, and even after the doctor had assured him both mother and pups would be fine with a little rest and proper hydration, he’d still found himself so sick to death that he’d gone home from work early the following day to care for Hux.

Kylo finds sometimes his worry is cyclical, endlessly dragging him back down whenever he thinks he might be able to break free to the surface, and usually it won’t leave him be until he deals with whatever the issue is with his own two hands.

Ultimately, Kylo feels far less tightly wound when he’s close enough to his mate to ensure his wellbeing. Even the trip to the grocery store had left him a little bit frazzled, though now it starts to ebb as he can see Hux is fine, if a little annoyed at having to sit up.

Hux finally takes the pill with a sour frown, accepting the glass of ginger ale when Kylo provides it, though he takes only a small sip to wash the medication down. He sighs, shoulders slumping as he rests back against the pillows behind him. Kylo lifts his arm, brushing his knuckles against Hux’s forehead. The omega’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance, but he doesn’t have the strength nor interest to push Kylo away.

“I feel awful…” Hux whimpers, hand slowly, anxiously stroking his belly. Kylo knows his worry for their pups probably isn’t making him feel much better, so he tries to be encouraging and defuse some of Hux’s less rational worries.

“You’ll feel better after the medication takes effect. And I don’t think your fever’s gotten worse,” Kylo murmurs, pulling away his hand. “Though I can use the thermometer if an exact number might make you feel better.”

Hux shakes his head, knocking more messy strands free over his forehead. The omega would hate him for thinking it, but to Kylo he looks absolutely adorable, even while sick. The urge to wrap him up in a hug is so strong, Kylo can’t help but bow to it, and he leans in and carefully embraces Hux.

He huffs in protest, but otherwise relaxes into Kylo’s arms, resting his chin atop his mate’s shoulder. Kylo gives him a gentle squeeze, mindful of his belly and any lingering nausea, before he pulls away. But instead of rising from the bed he shifts closer to Hux, not eager to keep distance between himself and his sick mate. Even if the omega is contagious, Kylo’s always had a hardier immune system, and even if that weren’t the case, no virus could possibly stop him from comforting his mate.  

“You’re a lot more noble than I’ve pegged you for,” Hux says and his voice, though soft, still carries that edge of acuity Kylo’s familiar with. “Venturing out into the pouring rain, buying and serving whatever your omega requires…a prince, you are.”

“I wouldn’t call it noble,” Kylo mumbles, brushing his fingers through Hux’s bangs, “more like common sense. What kind of alpha leaves their pregnant mate suffering on their own?”

“You’d be surprised. Plenty of lowlives out there…” Despite his malaise, Hux’s lips twitch up, leaning into Kylo’s touch. “Lucky me. I’ve managed to catch me a decent one.”

“Yeah. Hook, line, and sinker there.” Kylo deposits the bottle of painkillers on the nightstand, freeing up one hand so that he can stroke Hux’s belly. Even through the thick, comfortable fabric of his sweater, Kylo can feel the warmth of the omega’s skin, of the pups growing within. He inhales, smelling Hux through the pall of sickness and the daily grime that would’ve usually been washed away by now, if Hux were well. Kylo wonders if he should try to give his mate a shower in the morning—or perhaps a bath, so Hux could lie down and relax.

“There’s one more thing I need, though.” Hux traces his fingers over Kylo’s knuckles, inviting. “I feel you can guess what it is.”

Kylo tilts his head—he wants to get started on the soup, so Hux can have something in his belly other than a scant sip of ginger ale before he falls asleep. Yet the scent of pregnant omega is so alluring, and he figures he deserves to indulge in a little reward, if he really is as noble as Hux says he is.

“I can.” Kylo moves carefully, not wanting to disturb Hux’s nest as he settles in next to him. He lets Hux tuck into his side, wrapping an arm about the omega’s shoulders as he rests his head against his chest. His curved belly rubs against Kylo, skin shifting slightly thanks to the movements of the pups beneath.

Hux, exhausted by his illness and the general toll of pregnancy, quickly falls back asleep, but Kylo remains awake, hand braced against the warmth of his mate’s belly as he listens to the soft patter of rain against the roof.