#I never have Halloween off and it was the most gorgeous weather

[mer-se]

🍂 Halloween in Boston 🍂

[melancholicstation]

God bless America and all the beautiful women in it —husband!jack schlossberg comfort headcanon's

jack schlossberg fan fiction is for the lovers

WIFE!READER returns and is the orion carloto archetype, who balances modelling and writing, and i imagine her making tiktoks in the same vain of alanabananaxox (she's been my no.1 tiktoker since 2021) and sotce on tiktok.

taglist: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

no matter the stressor husband!jack literally treats it as a top-priority emergency

immediately goes to start a bath for you in your gorgeous copper bathtub (cause of course you have a copper bathtub ... duh) with some suzzane kaufman bath salt's that he picked up down in greenwich after a meeting with vogue's magazine department.

husband!jack is a freak for baths and it's rubbed off on you ... seriously like that man takes baths multiple times a week, on top of daily showers

if he had to be out on a day you were particularly anxious for whatever reason he would come home with a laundry bag of new tasteful yet cute stuffed animals from loewe and never tell you the prices cause he knows you'd crash out

is great at being a body pillow and has no shame just laying in silence together for hours

would try to make you feel better by getting the overpriced (not in your opinion) criterion subscription just so you could watch vintage halloween movies without running a risk of getting hacked on some third-party sketchy website

would 100% let you live in his clothes while he was out of the house so you could feel comforted even if he wasn't physically near

would absolutely try to distract you with light comedy, despite his cockiness he is indeed a funny guy so it helps slightly

husband!jack would be such a proponent of a healthy mind is a healthy body so he'd make you go do jump rope with him (cause why does jump roping have to be so humiliating) or even worse takes you out to paddle board, like imagine your knee-deep in that melancholic state where you only read plath novels and listen to unreleased lana and your boyfriend drags you out to go paddle boarding???? like cmon now

you do feel better afterwards but you would never tell him that

if you guys owned any pets together he would without a doubt tell you he's going to be out for a couple of hours and come back with one of those portrait paintings of house-pets to cheer you up (editors note: vang olsen mimi does the most delightful pet paintings if your in greenwich!)

he would absolutely NOT be above trying to self-medicate your problems (within reason) by smoking w*ed with you or sharing a cigar being the chicest couple ever!

would 100% smother you in delightfully soft cashmere blankets in the pattern of gorgeous tapestries

would earnestly read poems (robert frost, emily dickinson, and shakespeare) to you to get you to sleep on the especially hard days

is a devout optimist and routinely talks you out of your doom scrolling

always holds space for whatever emotions you are feeling but always wants to provide solutions to your problems

and when he encounters a problem he can't so easily fix he invests time into getting your mind off it and plans steps you can take to lessen the hold whatever your stressing about has on you

writes mini impromptu love letters/pep talks on the empty spaces in your agenda notebook (wife!reader would totally own more than 1 of these louise carmen organisers in an apropos shade of autumn scarlet )

encourages you to do self-care rituals with your staple skincare products by letting you do the exact same steps on him

while husband!jack cooks for you both you read him your favourite chapters of "democracy" by joan didion in the kitchen every night and it remains a pillar in your routine despite the tumult

during your hard times jack is serving peak husbandry doing the washing, cooking and cleaning

when he's on his lunch break at the office you get text messages like this:

always makes sure that you take your medication (if you take any) at the exact times its supposed to be at and has little alarms on his phone

husband!jack would increase his acts of service to 1000% like that man would be taking your row boots into the cobbler for a new sole

would bring home flowers without a special occasion, just cause

would without a doubt bring out those STELLAR accents just to see you smile

disclaimer: this is all obviously fiction and i do not know this man nor how he calms anyone down, this is all for some fun distraction in these trying times.

to anyone struggling with the results and its ramifications (same here) i would really encourage you to read this beautiful (free) essay from alanabanaxox on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/i-miss-dancing-115580140?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_fan&utm_content=web_share

[solar-halos]

"you're gonna be wearing that?"

aka a silly odesta one shot. 900 words, no plot just vibes

No one talks about the psychological repercussions of being so hot all the time.

Annie examines herself in the mirror. One wrong move and it’s fucking over for her ass (literally).

Annie loves flashy clothing, but not the way the Capitol does it. Instead of obscene sparkles and absolutely unethical fur coats, Annie prefers the linen materials and natural sea glass from District 4’s markets. And, since it’s Halloween today, she goes all out.

She practices how she needs to walk. She’ll have more leeway when she’s finally reunited with her friends, but for right now, she does not want to flash the entirety of the Victor’s Village as soon as she walks out of the door.

The hem of her skirt (made from her own two hands, with nothing but two knitting needles and a heap of yarn) has a scalloped edge along the hemline, which provides some extra coverage. She even managed to manipulate a scrap of shiny fabric into a seashell-shaped blur. 

She was a mermaid, obviously. If she really wanted to get accurate with it, then she wouldn’t be wearing a top at all, but Annie (unfortunately) isn’t a mermaid. It’s why she’s putting so much thought into what shoes she should wear. Hitting the beach was a must, but this was a special occasion. Should she break out the strappy sandals? She even replaced all the strings with seafoam green ribbon. 

She reaches up to clip her hair back while she thinks about it. The knot holding up her shirt loosens. She huffs. 

“Finnick? Will you help me tie this?” She plops down at the foot of the bed. Finnick was writing in his journal while she got ready, but after hearing his name, he glances at her. Annie smiles at him.

His pretty green eyes travel all the way down to her bare feet. She wonders if he’s gonna call her divine. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

She leans forward, entranced by his palpable love. He’s so sweet to her all the time.

“You’re gonna be wearing that?”

She frowns. Scrap what she said about his palpable love.

“Why’d you say it like that?” she demands. Doesn’t he think her costume is pretty? “I’ve been working on this for weeks!”

Seriously. If she had a nickel for every time she raveled and unraveled the yarn to get every aspect of the design exactly right, she’d be financially compensated for all those tears she shed. 

“And it looks good!” he assures her, but Annie shakes her head. He can’t backtrack now.

“No, I get it,” she insists, because she does. “You hate it.”

“I don’t hate—”

“No, it’s cool,” she insists, even though it’s not. “Lying to me is worse than hating on me.”

“Annie.” His voice goes impossibly soft. He leans forward, inching his hand toward hers, and she takes it. Maybe hate was too strong of a word. “You look beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous. I’m just saying…”

He pauses, eyes drifting toward the ceiling like he’s crunching numbers in his head. Annie raises her eyebrows at him, imploring him to keep going. What now?

“I’m just saying it might get cold, is all.”

Seriously? That was his first thought? She’s covered in ribbons and bows and he’s thinking about the weather?

“Whatever. I can’t believe you’d try and tell me what to do.”

His eyes bug out again. He opens his mouth to reply, but the doorbell cuts him off. That must be the girls.

“Annie.” He trails after her. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’d never tell you what to do. It’s just freezing out right now.”

Well, yeah. It’s Halloween. “But I look good.” What part of that doesn’t he get? “Besides, we’ll be indoors for most of it.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

They make it to the foot of the stairs. Mags throws the both of them a strange glance, probably not used to Finnick being so fucking bossy.

“Finnick hates what I’m wearing,” she explains. 

“I’m just saying it’ll be cold!”

Whatever. Annie flings the door open. She and her friends start trading hugs (and compliments, because they all look unbelievably stunning).

“Dude!” Her best friend has Annie do a 360 so everyone can survey her look. “You look so fucking pretty!”

“Thank you!” Annie says, shooting a pointed glance toward Finnick. His eyebrows knit together. 

“I think so, too,” he tells her. “Otherworldly.”

Otherworldly. Finnick calls her a lot of things—smart, sweet, beautiful—but otherworldly is a new one. That makes her ease up on all the teasing.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” she asks, even though they both know he shouldn’t. Finnick being at a party wouldn’t be unusual, but they have to avoid being seen together in the public eye. District 4 has a severe gossiping problem.

“I’m okay,” he says, hugging her close. She melts into him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as an olive branch. He kisses her back, being mindful of the blush on her cheeks and the highlighter on the tip of her nose. She admires the bright red lipstick stain on his face. “You have fun. And try not to get too cold.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not gonna get cold!”

[aprylynn]

Happy Halloween to meeeeeeeee

“Ah, thank you! We both are. The lady at the Halloween place gave us a discount.”

“For what?” 

“Uhh, being cute? What else?” 

Adorable. If he went with Taehyung to get costumes, you wonder how extravagant your best friend looks. 

BEING CUTE! Of course everyone loves vmin :)))))))))

***

“I think you broke a wire in there somewhere,” Jimin comments through puffs of giggles, finally snapping you out of your inappropriately timed trance. “Ah, there she is!” 

Recover. Holy shit, you gotta recover.

OH SHIT IT WASN’T TAE READER IS IN TROUBLE NOW

***

“And you dressed basic for what?” 

Disbelief slams your jaw straight into the ground, your little audience bent back with laughs so loud that some people around your group glance over. 

Oh, you wanna launch yourself at him so fucking bad. Wipe that stupid, smug taunt off his face. 

I love love love their back and forth here and I love that reader wants to fight him in every sense of the word!

***

Your brother can only shake his head before turning to grab a cup, and you barely—just barely—catch the fiendish spark in Yoongi’s eyes as he bites his grin right back.

Always such a menace

***

Maybe poker and cool autumn weather will quell the heat swirling in your core. 

—

—

Nope. 

I knew that Nope was coming and it still made me laugh! Of course nothing will help!!!

***

But you try your best to focus on having fun with all of them, especially since Dom and Tae keep eyeing each other and smirking at you whenever you try to ask what’s up.

What I wouldn’t give to see a text thread between these two about Yoongi and reader. You know there definitely is one and I wanna see what they’re saying about those two idiots!!!

***

But they aren’t as powerful as before, because you’ve been reassured a thousand times over. 

He’s not like that anymore. 

But as he’s pulled in for a picture with some other Barbie’s, you’re promptly reminded that he’s still not outwardly taken, either. 

Which coaxes another, sadder side of you to come out of hiding, casting a shadow over a fun Halloween night. 

How much longer can you take being the one in the dark? 

Screw waiting to find Yoongi alone.

You’d rather be standing together. 

Oh ouch this hurt WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER WHY??!!!!!

***

Who is this man? You feel like you know more about him than you ever hoped to, and yet… Yoongi’s still a mystery. 

One beautiful, scary, amazing mystery that you will never get tired of discovering piece by piece. 

When your thoughts dissipate, you notice that he’s now aiming expectant eyes your way, and your heart beats extra extra loud. 

OMG RYEN. This is gorgeous!!!

***

Between kisses, you grit out how stupidly attractive he looks, and his chuckles are so dark that you feel them shake your core.

“Thought I was boring.”

Another groan into his mouth. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Say sorry then.”

It’s your turn to giggle, “And if I don’t?”

Fingers ghost along your throat before they squeeze in warning. “Try it.”

I’M BITING MY FIST I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

***

Do you really go for it? 

You’re gonna have to be silent as the grave if you do, because this will be the most sordid position you can be found in. 

…Fuck it. Screw it. It’s Halloween and you’re dancing with the devil. 

“Yes we do,” you scoff. “But if you break my heels we’re gonna fight.” 

His quiet bout of laughs makes you melt, and his fingers feel positively intoxicating when they find your cunt again. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

***

You can barely see that his eyes are squeezed tight, and you catch a tiny glimpse of his mouth agape before he bites it shut. When you suck in hard, his whole body flinches, and for the first time that night, he’s the one with a hand over his mouth. 

MAKE THIS MENACE PAY IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES but also I’m actually proud of reader here because they were so unsure of themself at the beginning of 3tan and now they’re making Yoongi lose control. I love to see how far they’re come!!!

***

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“For what, doll,” he asks in return. 

“Making me yours.” When you slightly pull on his jacket, you hope he gets what you mean. “Even if no one else knows.” 

His tiny peck on your cheek is genuine and, if you aren’t mistaken, a little prideful. “They’re going to, doll,” he vows into your skin. “I told you, you're gonna get tired of me.” 

"Lies," you sigh in peace. “So I get Halloween pictures with you next time, too?” 

Yoongi freezes, standing straight before fishing out his phone. 

And you fuss up a quiet storm before he lets you fix yourself, smiling at his camera as he squishes his sweaty, satisfied as fuck face right next to yours. 

HE IS SO FUCKING SOFT FOR THEM LIKE HE WILL DO ANYTHING TO MAKE THEM HAPPY WTF I LOVE THIS

***

Yoongi [2:45am]: Text me when you’re home 

You [2:45am]: but im not going to your place :((  

What is home, if not where you feel the most at peace? Where you feel like you can be yourself and not worry about sneaking around? Where you know someone will protect you and be that person you can go to without any questions asked? 

Yoongi [2:47am]: Next Halloween you will be 

NEXT HALLOWEEN ARE YOU KIDDING ME IS HE FOR REAL IS THIS FOR REAL LIKE I KNOW THIS STORY ISN’T EXACTLY CANON BUT ARE YOU FOR REAL IS HE REALLY PROMISING THAT OMG NEXT HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEN

****

Ryen, this is incredible as always. You work so hard and give us so much and it’s always top tier out of this world amazing stuff. Thank you for all you share with us and giving this story and these characters life 💜🥰

u suck !! (m) (3tan special) | myg

3tanoween special: u suck !! pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball |  stay |  sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume. note: BOO!! :))) happy halloween and i love you all so so much. if you haven’t read three tangerines or the rest of the series yet, i highly recommend diving into that first! this would make a whole lot more sense lol note 2: this is gonna be heavily unedited bc i literally started it on tues🥹 and consider this a pocket universe/side story for now until i mention anything otherwise :)) warnings: [explicit warnings under the cut] language, house party, alcohol/drug mentions, vampires are present but there’s a different type of sucking going on HEYO!!, tight spaces, yoongiiiiii🥺🥺🥺, one (1) uncomfy hug, jimin is a warning, yoongi is a bigger warning, kissing is a staple warning atp, yoongi in black leather and chains ahahahahah, tension, angst bc it’s me🤪, you have to be quiet :)), but it’s so hard :))), yoongi hands🥴, so many doll mentions, cus this reader is a barbie!!!, this yoongi is out of control and i’m not stopping him 🤷, ermmmmmm yoongi’s voice🧍‍♀️this is all i can say🧍‍♀️, …VMIN??? drop date: oct. 28th, 2023, 12:17am est  word count: 11.5k🫣

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[c-e-d-dreamer]

Happy Oct. 1 and the start of Halloween! Please enjoy this spooky inspired Nessian fic! :) 

It had been an accident. A complete and absolute accident. Cassian had agreed to host a mini Halloween party at his loft apartment. They would order food in, play some drinking games, maybe binge some horror movies. It was going to be fun, and Cassian simply wanted his place to look the part. So he had bought those fake spiderwebs and hung them from the lamps and across the curtains. He bought some fake skulls and plastic pumpkins to set about the living room and kitchen. 

And he simply thought it would be funny to draw a pentagram on the floor. It looked just like in those cheesy Halloween movies, and he knew Azriel would get a kick out of it. He even set some candles around it to really make it look the part, and he couldn't help but put on his best 'spooky' voice as he said some words he'd read in one of Rhys' musty books in his library, some language he'd never heard of but sounded cool. He didn't think anything of it. 

And that's how Cassian ends up with a woman standing in the middle of his apartment. 

Cassian has no idea who she is, but he can’t deny that she is breathtakingly gorgeous. Her golden brown hair is braided up into an intricate crown, a few wisps of hair falling against her temples and framing her face. It brings out the cut lines of her cheekbones. She’s wearing a form fitting dress, the black fabric hugging her curves and arms before it flows into a deep blue at her feet. But Cassian’s eyes get stuck on her eyes, as dark as night as they pierce into Cassian’s own. 

"I am the Goddess of Death, Princess of Decay,” the woman says, her voice seeming to boom and echo in Cassian’s apartment. “Who are you who commands me?"

"How did you get in here?"

The question seems to give the woman pause, and she blinks at Cassian for a few seconds. Cassian watches as her head tilts slightly, her eyebrows pinching. 

"Excuse me?" the woman asks. 

"I mean my front door is locked so I'm just confused how you got in here."

"You summoned me."

"I summoned you…?" 

Cassian takes in where the woman is standing, right in the middle of the pentagram, her too dark eyes, and the way power seems to radiate off her in a way that rumbles in his own bones. Finally, his brain catches on. 

"You're a demon." 

The woman crosses her arms, her weight settling on her left leg. She raises her eyebrows at Cassian, her face cold and unimpressed. It pretty clearly reads ‘no shit.’ 

“I summoned a demon?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

“I summoned a demon,” Cassian mutters, mostly to himself. 

“What are you expecting? Congratulations?” the demon-woman quips. “Look, just tell me what you want.” 

“About that…'' Cassian starts, clearing his throat awkwardly and rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “I actually didn’t mean to summon you. It was an accident.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“Unfortunately not. But I don’t need anything from you, so I guess you can just go back to wherever it is demons live.” 

“That’s not how it works. I’m tied to you until you banish me.” 

“And how do I do that?” 

“You don’t know how to banish me?” 

“I just told you I summoned you by accident. I’m not even sure how I did that.” 

The demon-woman closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh through her nose like she’s trying to stay calm. Cassian can’t help but wonder what would happen if she doesn’t stay calm. Would she attack him like demons in movies? Are the representations of demons in movies accurate? Would it be rude to ask her? After a moment, the demon-woman takes a deep breath and smooths back her hair before settling her eyes back on Cassian. 

“So, let me get this straight,” the demon-woman says. “You summoned me by accident, you don’t actually have any biddings for me to do, and you don’t know how to banish me.” 

 “Yes,” Cassian replies, chuckling sheepishly. 

“Great,” the demon-woman mutters. “I was summoned by an idiot.” 

“But I can Google it,” Cassian promises. 

It turns out, Google isn’t that helpful when it comes to actual demons. Cassian tries various different searches, but all that he’s able to come up with is a bunch of television and movie references, a Buzzfeed article comparing different celebs to demons, and a weird article about making deals with the devil. Luckily, he is able to find a local witchy shop that’s only three blocks down from his apartment. Unfortunately, they’re closed and don’t open until the next morning, so he and demon-woman are stuck together for the time being. 

He had moved to the sofa when he started his Google deep dive, and the demon-woman had stepped gracefully out of the pentagram to sit on the opposite end. She hasn’t said anything since their initial talk when she appeared, and Cassian can’t help but steal glances her way out of the corner of his eye. She looks like a queen the way she’s perched on the cream colored sofa cushion. 

“So,” Cassian drawls into the silence. “Do demons eat? I can order pizza.” 

The demon-woman turns to him, one eyebrow poised. The look sends a shiver down his spine. He's not entirely sure it's out of fear. 

As it turns out, demons do in fact eat, as Cassian learns. He also learns that this particular demon prefers her pizza topped with veggies and that her name is Nesta. 

“Have you always been a demon?” Cassian asks, taking a bite of his pizza slice. 

“Seriously?”

“You’re the first demon I’ve ever met. You can’t blame me for being curious, sweetheart.” 

Nesta’s eyes snap to his, a scowl pinched across her lips. The expression pulls a smile across Cassian’s own face, which only makes Nesta’s eyes narrow more. Cassian’s fingers itch to reach out and smooth the lines between her eyebrows. The desire is so sudden that Cassian busies himself with grabbing another slice of pizza out of the box to distract himself. 

“First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart again,” Nesta starts. “And to answer your question, no. I haven’t always been a demon.” 

“Then how did you become a demon?” 

“I made a deal.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

Something passes over Nesta’s face then, like ghostly fingers leaving a haunting trail against her skin. Her spine straightens like steel, and when her eyes meet Cassian’s again, there’s a guardedness to her expression that speaks volumes yet leaves Cassian with even more questions. 

“Most days,” Nesta replies simply. 

~ * * * ~

The witchy shop is decidedly less spooky than Cassian had envisioned, but perhaps that’s just his biases and what movies taught him coming into play. He expects cobwebs and weird animal parts in slimy jars, and maybe a black cat that screeches at him when he steps inside. Instead, there’s an aisle dedicated to herbs and another dedicated to crystals. He squints at the black scrawled writing of the placards declaring what each crystal is for. He supposes it would be a bit too easy if one just said ‘banishing demons.’ 

Nesta sighs loudly from over his shoulder when he picks up a candle to smell. When he glances her way, her arms are crossed and that scowl from before is back plastered across her face. Slowly, he turns back around and sets the candle back down on the shelf. 

“Do you mind?” Nesta quips. 

“Alright, alright,” Cassian acquiesces, keeping his voice down to avoid attention. Another thing he learnt last night was that only he could see and hear Nesta.

He heads for the counter of the shop where a young woman is arranging jewelry in the display case. As he approaches, the woman looks up and offers him a friendly smile. Cassian tries to offer one back, but he’s sure it must look more like a grimace. Once at the counter, Cassian clears his throat, shoving nervous fingers through his tangle of hair. 

“Hello,” Cassian starts awkwardly. “This is probably a weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know how to banish a demon, would you?” 

“Do you have a demon problem?” the shop worker asks. 

“Something like that.” 

“Well, is the demon powerful?” 

Cassian looks over his shoulder to Nesta, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. In response, she merely smiles. It’s all teeth and the exact opposite of innocent. It stirs something deep in his gut. 

“Very,” Nesta bites out.

Cassian turns back to the shop worker. “Very.” 

“Wait,” the shop worker replies. “The demon, is he here?” 

“She,” Cassian corrects. “And yes.” 

“But how did she get past my wards?” 

Cassian’s gaze follows the shop worker’s own, to the silver trinkets that twist and clink together softly above the shop’s door. He can hear Nesta’s scoff at the suggestion, and he doesn’t need to be looking at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. 

“It would seem they don’t work,” Cassian offers sheepishly. 

The shop worker gapes for just a moment before she turns on her heel, pushing past the beads hanging over the doorway to the backroom. When she returns, she has a box of crystals that she sets down on the counter, a bundle of herbs labeled ‘sage’ and a folded up piece of paper nestled on top. 

“You’ll need to draw a circle and set these crystals around it,” the shop worker explains. “Make sure you charge the crystals under the full moon and don’t wait. Do it the next day. That’s when they’ll be the most powerful. Burn the sage to cleanse and say this incantation, and you should be free of your demon.” 

“Great,” Cassian exclaims, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’ll take it.” 

After paying and gathering his items, they head out of the shop. Cassian feels lighter already. They have a plan. Plus, the fall weather today is gorgeous and that always helps to lift his spirits, the cool breeze and canopy of yellow and reds above their heads. It definitely helps that fall and Nesta look amazing together, the golden rays of the sun bouncing off her hair. Cassian can’t help but offer her an easy grin as they walk side by side. 

“See? That was super easy. We’ll have you banished before you know it.” 

“And when’s the next full moon?” Nesta asks dryly. 

Cassian startles slightly at the question. He shifts the weight of the things he just bought to one arm and digs his phone out of his pocket with the other. A quick Google later, and Cassian takes in the date glaring back at him on the small screen with a frown. When he looks back up at Nesta, she’s staring back at him unimpressed, clearly already knowing the answer. With a roll of her eyes and what sounds to Cassian like a muttered ‘idiot,’ she takes off ahead him back toward his apartment. 

It’s going to be a long two and half weeks. 

-- 

And Cassian simps the whole time for those two and a half weeks. And there’s feelings. And Cassian makes a deal of his own to save Nesta’s soul. And they live happily ever after. 

[clexmas24]

27 Days Until Clextober!

Clextober is getting close! So let’s celebrate all things Clexa and the best season of the year! 

We’re talking fanart, fanvids, fanfics, mood-boards, photo manipulations, fic recs, the works. You don’t have to participate every day. You can pick one, or three, or any combo you would like. Listed below are a few ideas to get your creativity going, but they are by no means strict guidelines. You do you, boo! 

Remember to tag #Clextober20, #7DaysofClexa, and #(day/prompt) when posting. 

Example: #Clextober20 #7DaysofClexa #Day3 #Day3: Creatures of the Night, and of course, any other tags you’d like to add.

Day 1: Pumpkin Spice & Everything Nice  Pumpkin patches, pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin carving, pumpkin spice candles, pumpkins! 

Do Clexa brush hands as they reach for the perfect pumpkin in a pile of pumpkins? Does Clarke mercilessly tease Lexa for her exorbitant candle obsession but finally gives in when she stumbles across the decadent scent of pumpkin spice candles? Is Lexa a barista who makes the best pumpkin spice latte on the planet and Clarke just has to stop by every day, for the latte of course, not the alluringly hot girl making it? 

Day 2: Witches & Wishes Spells, potions, broomsticks, black cats, wishes, curses, witches, magic!

Are Clarke and Lexa from rival covens? Is Clarke a witch and Lexa a skeptical human? Is Clarke suspicious that Lexa might be a witch because of her massive collection of candles? Does Clarke find an old photograph of a gorgeous woman hidden in a dusty trunk only to be sucked into said picture and meet the mysterious woman from another time?

Day 3: Sweater Weather Cozy sweaters, flannel shirts, apple picking, rainy day snuggles, changing seasons, fall festivities, football games, cider tasting, bonfires, hayrides! 

Does Clarke keep stealing Lexa’s favorite fluffy sweater, much to Lexa’s annoyance? Does Clarke’s scarf fly off in a blustering autumn breeze only to be returned to her by a striking stranger with chestnut hair and the greenest eyes she’s ever seen? Are Clarke and Lexa happily married and decide to take their little one apple picking for the first time? Is Lexa new to town and bumps into the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen while at the annual Fall Festival? 

Day 4: That Shit Is HAUNTED Haunted houses, ghosts, urban legends, myths, campfire tales, creepy slumber parties, a spooky thrift store find!

Does Scaredy Cat Clarke try to put on a brave face when her best friend (aka her crush) insists on telling the creepiest stories she’s ever heard at their annual Halloween sleepover? Do Clarke and Lexa attend a haunted house with their respective dates only to wind up clinging to each other instead? Does Clarke bring an old radio home from a thrift store when Lexa had a bad feeling about it to only find out it has a mind of its own? Is Clarke a makeup artist for a haunted house and has to get up close and personal to a VERY gorgeous Lexa? Do Lexa and Clarke buy a house from the 1800s that Lexa insists has charm only to find out the place is being haunted?!

Day 5: Creatures of the Night Vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, graveyards, costume parties, Halloween clubbing, night time festivities! 

Are Clarke and Lexa star-crossed lovers, destined to be together but forced apart by ancient traditions? Does Lexa get dragged to a Halloween bar crawl but really starts to enjoy it when she keeps running into a stunning blonde? Is Clarke a human suddenly caught up in a civil war between the reigning vampire queen, Lexa, and the werewolves who are trying to overthrow her? Does Lexa get enough liquid courage to tell her best friend she’s had a crush on her for years (the Wonder Woman costume she’s wearing certainly helps her confidence)?

Day 6: Trick or Treat Harmless tricks, steamy treats, or even good old fashioned trick or treating because you’re never too old to have a good time!

Is Clarke a bit of a Halloween grump and Lexa is bound and determined to do all she can to make her love the holiday? Have Clarke and Lexa gone trick or treating every year together from the age of four? In coordinating costumes??? Has Clarke realized Lexa is adorably jumpy and starts recording all the harmless scares to edit them into a massive supercut to share on social media?

Day 7: FREE DAY Happy early Halloween, everyone! It’s FREE DAY! 

Didn’t see a theme that tickled your fancy? Missed a day but now you suddenly have a brilliant idea? Today’s YOUR day.

If you need any more suggestions/inspiration, send me an ask. I’ll try my best to give you ideas, or you can always make a post for my friends and/or followers to come up with clever things for you as well. 

Have fun, and I can’t wait to see all the fall-tastic creations that everyone comes up with!

[safarigirlsp]

So excited to see you open requests! Your Flip and Charlie writings were 😍 (also moodboards for both stories are gorgeous!) I totally thought you’ve been writing for awhile (I’m new so still getting caught up around here)! Can I request a fic where Reader has to convince her man why Halloween is the best holiday? This may have been inspired by that AD clip 😏 I feel like the prompt can go fluffy or smutty and work with a few of the boys so author’s choice to pick!

+

Going to a Halloween party with Charlie, please???

Thank you for your requests! I really had a fun time with this one. I did this for Charlie, but if you want to read about Flip being a grumpy ass during Halloween too, I did something with that in Here Kitty, Kitty. I hope you enjoy!

Savor Each Sensation

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW. Language. Lots of Smut and Fluff

Charlie Barber never used to hate Halloween. He used to look forward to it. He used to look forward to taking Henry trick or treating, to matching costumes with him. That was before Henry was taken to Los Angeles by his rancid ex-wife.

Now, Charlie didn’t get to spend Halloween with Henry very often, and when he did it was in the muggy L.A. weather amidst the garish palm trees decorated with orange lights and the out of place jack o’lanterns, left to wilt into premature humiliation in the California heat.

Worse yet, Halloweens in L.A. were also spent being conscripted into going out trick or treating with a group. A group that consisted of his ex, her family, and her newest dithering simp of a boyfriend. All of them an omnipresent white noise corroding his time with his son. Even Henry was an unwitting source of disappointment, being so consumed with everything going on with Halloween and his friends, Charlie was little more than an afterthought anymore.

Charlie had grown bitter about the holiday, to say the least.

Unfortunately for Charlie, it was your favorite holiday, and you were his new fiancée. You loved everything about the season. Autumn was the most colorful, vibrant time of year, with just the perfect crisp lingering in the air. You even wanted an October wedding, a desire you had yet to spring on Charlie.

The culmination of your favorite season was your favorite holiday, Halloween. You loved the parties, the excuse to dress up and forget your responsibilities for an evening, the scary movies, haunted houses, and all the spooky chills and jump scares you could get.

This year, Charlie had elected to stay in New York to oversee some last-minute rehearsals of his play opening the first week of November. What a perfect opportunity to show him how, with you at least, Halloween was indeed the best holiday.

Charlie’s theatre company threw a Halloween party annually at the theatre. Of course, the acting troupe enjoyed any opportunity to dress up and be more flamboyant than usual. Charlie rarely attended himself, usually due to his trips to L.A. This year you insisted that he take you. An opportunity to show you off, which you both enjoyed, if nothing else.

Even Charlie couldn’t help but grin at the costumes you had chosen for you both. A draped dress in scarlet silk for you and a solid black suit for him, complete with an ivory half mask. A chic, modern Christine and Phantom of the Opera.

Every eye in the theatre turned to you both when you made your entrance, and few had left either of you since. Charlie, too, couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He couldn’t go more than a few moments without raking you with his gaze and giving you a smile or a kiss, his hand never leaving your back, neck, or your own hand, your fingers laced together. He looked particularly debonair with his tailored black suit accentuating his huge frame and his thick dark hair swept back in tousled waves. You smirked up at him when you saw the longing jealous eyes of some of the newer actresses latch onto you both, earning a wink down at you from Charlie as his hold on you tightened.

Conversation filled the theatre, the acoustics allowing you to hear dialogue easily from across the room. While Charlie was immersed in the necessary pleasantries of greeting the people in his company, you listened to some of the ancillary conversations. Several different discussions surrounded the alleged ghosts of the theatre. Especially on Halloween, it seemed, the spirits could be heard moaning throughout the lonely theatre. A few people attested to even having witnessed a diaphanous specter themselves. Many had heard the lingering moans and wails.

The party was already in full swing. Halloween themed music resounded throughout the theatre while people drank and danced on the stage. The theatre itself was decorated beautifully, lit only by endless strings of fairy lights, and flickering LED torches and lanterns. The makeshift bar was generously stocked and resplendent with skulls and cobwebs. A long table sat along the side of the stage, heavy with delicacies. What caught your eye was the stack of gourmet candy apples.

Charlie followed your gaze and was quick to grab you each one of the luscious candy apples. Always the gentleman, he found a knife and cut your apple for you, preserving your carefully applied lipstick. He held a slice to your lips, tracing the fruit along your lower lip before allowing you to close your lips around it. You sucked the tip of his finger into your mouth as you did, flicking it with your tongue before releasing it. Charlie’s eyes upon you darkened, gleaming with lust in the dimness of the stage.

When you both finished your apples he pulled you into the middle of the stage, holding you close against him, as he swayed to the music with you.

Charlie was a great dancer and a strong lead, effortlessly moving you across the stage as he danced with you. He loved the theatrics of twirling you and, of course, dipping you impossibly low for a passionate kiss.

He danced with you in his warm embrace long into the evening, pausing only when you each felt the need for a glass of wine as an interlude.

You shifted your weight side to side as you sipped your wine, alternating between your feet that had begun to ache in your too ambitiously tall heels. Charlie noticed. He took a seat in one of the chairs set around the stage and pulled you into his lap. You could feel he was half hard already when you fell into place on top of his thick thighs. Turning your head to kiss his cheek sweetly, you leaned your back against his proud chest as you purposefully ground your ass against his cock decidedly unsweetly.

“Don’t think I’m above fucking you right here, sweetheart,” Charlie whispered into your ear before biting it teasingly.

“I’m sorry, is that supposed to be a deterrent?” You rubbed your ass harder against his hardening cock.

Charlie growled as he pulled your hips down against his cock that was now straining beneath his suit pants.

“If you want my cock that badly, I won’t keep you waiting,” his statement was punctuated with a bite to your neck.

His large hands lifted your hips, steadying you as he rose, trailing off of you in a slow lingering caress as he moved toward the stage exit.

You said your goodbyes and made your way out of the theatre, Charlie leading you out with his large hand at your back. Luckily, the theatre was dim enough that no one noticed Charlie’s erection throbbing inside his fitted black trousers.

When you reached the exit, Charlie steered you away down a hallway, leaning down to growl in your ear, “I’m not waiting through taxis and traffic to get you home and fuck you when I can have you screaming my name in the next ten minutes right here.”

You smiled wickedly up at him, “Surely, you’re not actually having a good time, Charlie? On Halloween, no less?” You reached a hand to pinch his ass playfully, earning a teasing glare and a lopsided grin from him.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Charlie led you down a dark unfamiliar hallway and down a flight of stairs.

“It’s a surprise,” he teased you.

“I thought you might enjoy fucking me in your office,” you replied sultrily.

“Did you really think the Phantom would fuck you in an office, darling?” His eyes gleamed devilishly as he grinned back at you.

You hadn’t realized that you had circled back toward the center of the theatre until the music began to grow louder as you walked.

Finally, you arrived at an old wooden door that Charlie opened and held for you. You found yourself in the large underbelly of the stage itself. It was dim, lit only by the faint light that trickled down through the floorboards of the stage overhead. The music adopted an eerie quality once filtered through the wooden floor and mixed with the conversations from above you. The space itself was crowded with props, mannequins, costumes, and all the accoutrements of the theatre. Centered in the room was a large work table, littered with fabric and smaller props.

Charlie approached you from behind, wrapping his powerful arms around your waist and pulling your back against his meaty chest. His lips were hot and wet on your neck as he dragged his teeth along your sensitive skin before laving you with open mouthed kisses.

You reached a hand to twist into his thick hair as his lips raised a rash of goosebumps across your shoulders and neck, moaning his name at the pleasure he could give you with only his lips.

Charlie’s hands moved to unzip your dress, pushing the material off your shoulders, letting it fall around your feet in a cascade of crimson silk.

You turned to face him, running your palms over his broad chest. Lust glittered in Charlie’s honeyed eyes as he admired your lingerie with an indulgent smile. You had purchased a new set just for him, for tonight. His hands immediately found your breasts, squeezing them and running his thumbs over your nipples through the thin black eyelash lace of your long-line balconet bra. His eyes caressed your curves down to your matching lace garter belt and thong. You rubbed your nylon encircled thighs together, teasing yourself with the feel of the slick slide of the fabric.

“Am I lifting your spirits yet, Charlie,” you asked with a smirk.

He grinned down at you, “That’s not the only thing you’re lifting.” He lowered his head to kiss you deeply, pulling you against him and digging his cock into your stomach.

Charlie’s warm lands travelled down your sides, skimming your curves, as he kissed you slowly. His jaw worked hungrily as his plush lips and hot tongue pulled sighs from your throat. His mouth trailed from your lips along your jaw as his hands slid down to grip your ass, before dropping his lips to the side of your neck, where his kisses turned to wet mouthed bites.

A large hand traced the lace of your thong from the top of your ass around your hip, teasing a finger underneath the lace, until he reached the front of your pussy, rubbing you through the thin fabric.

Before he could go further, you pushed yourself back from him, keeping him at arms length by your hands on his chest. Charlie’s lips lingered on your neck, bending forward to follow you with his mouth until you pulled too far back.

You cocked an eyebrow as you wagged a finger at him, warning him to stay put. You sauntered coquettishly over to the work table, splaying your hands on the wood and spreading your legs as you bent over. You arched your back and pushed your ass out for him, made easier by the height of your stilettos. You intentionally wiggled your ass as you settled into your position, ensuring he had a full view of your glistening pussy, perfectly framed by your crotchless panties.

You heard Charlie’s sharp intake of breath behind you. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned as he approached you.

“Do you like your treat?” You teased, looking back over your shoulder.

“Let me show you much I fucking like it,” Charlie was behind you now, cock pressing against your ass through his suit pants. His hands smoothed up your thighs to grip your hips. He leaned down over your back, chest pressing against you to kiss behind your ear as he whispered low into it, “I’d like to eat my treat now.”

Charlie knelt behind you, using his grip on your hips to pull your ass further out, and without preamble, shoved his face into your pussy. His large nose prodded at your entrance as his lips and tongue kissed and sucked hungrily at your pussy.

Every muscle in your body shuddered with pleasure, pulling your head back in a lewd moan that echoed throughout the room.

“You taste better than fucking candy,” he growled into your pussy, the low rumbling tone of his voice vibrating into you.

Charlie was superbly talented with his mouth, only taking him a few minutes of working your pussy with his lips, tongue, and even his nose, until your hips were pushing back into him and bucking involuntarily.

“Fuck me now, handsome,” you moaned as your thighs started to shake. You wanted this to be about him, to make this Halloween with you his favorite holiday.

Charlie’s hands on your hips gripped you tighter, holding you in place as he moved lower to suck your clit into his mouth. “Trust me,” Charlie’s deep voice rumbled against your pussy. “Savor each sensation.”

“Oh, fuck, Charlie,” you giggled. “Are you actually quoting The Phantom of the Opera while you have your tongue in my pussy?”

You felt him grin against your folds as he groaned in affirmation, “You’ve always told me that I have such a talented tongue, kitten.”

“Yes, you sure fucking do,” you whimpered, feeling your pussy tightening around nothing. “But, I don’t want to cum on your tongue tonight. I want to cum on that giant cock of yours.”

Charlie slowed enough to kiss your pussy languidly for a few delicious seconds, sending shudders through your entire body.

Upon straightening behind you, he paused only long enough to undo his belt and shove his pants down his thighs to free his eager dripping cock.

Your jaw fell slack, a sob of ecstasy escaping your throat, when Charlie pushed his massive cock into you fully with one smooth thrust. A few slow drags of his cock in and out of you allowed you to adjust to his substantial size before he angled his hips as he picked up his pace, angled just right to hit your favorite spots. He had fucked you enough to know your pussy better than any of his scripts, each of his thrusts rubbing you perfectly.

You had been so close to cumming from Charlie’s mouth, that you felt the weighted heat of pleasure pooling in your core after only a few short minutes of his cock driving into you.

Your thighs were shaking and your pussy tightening with every thrust of Charlie’s cock and every slam of his hips against you. Charlie felt it and knew what you needed. He gripped your hips more tightly and pulled your ass back to him with every thrust, meeting him roughly as he pounded you harder, as he pounded your pussy into clenching around his cock as you came in quivering waves.

Charlie groaned loudly as your pussy fluttered around his cock. He stroked one large hand along your back soothingly as he ground his still hard cock into you, fucking you through your aftershocks.

He had yet to cum when he pulled out of you, rubbing the thick head of his cock along the outside of your pussy and your ass.

“Turn around,” his voice was deep, thick with lust. “I want to see your gorgeous face when I fill you up with my cum.”

Once you turned to face him, Charlie hooked his hands under your ass, lifting you up onto the table. The wood was cool on your back when you stretched out beneath Charlie, ensuring he had a beautiful view of your lacy tits. He pulled both of your legs up, placing your ankles on his shoulders and turned his head to kiss your ankle as he slid his hands down along your silky nylon clad thighs.

One hand remained stroking your thigh while his other aligned his cock with your wanting pussy.

It was Charlie’s turn to let a low primal groan rumble through his thick chest as he sank his cock into you again, the sound reverberating off the walls of the echoing chamber.

“Fuck, I love your little pussy,” he growled as he settled his cock inside you. “Always so wet for me. And so fucking tight. Always the perfect fit for my cock.”

Charlie set a fast pace, slamming his cock into you roughly. You reached your arms out above your head, arching your back and letting your tits bounce for him as he pounded into you. You sighed and whined with every thrust, your pussy eager to cum again around his massive cock.

You felt Charlie’s cock begin to throb inside you as his rhythm faltered and his brow furrowed. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it almost too aggressively as he fucked into you, pushing you into another orgasm.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Charlie!” You moaned loudly as you came again.

Charlie growled above you as your pussy seized around his cock. He came with a huffed shout, his cock pulsing with each burst of cum he pumped into you.

Your legs dropped from his shoulders to wrap around his waist and you sighed in ecstasy as he panted above you, both breathless. You reached to his shaggy hair, running your fingers through it and pulling him down to kiss you deeply.

He purred against your lips, his hands running the length of your stockinged legs that were now hooked around his waist.

“What do you think of Halloween now?” You whispered against his lips.

Charlie’s mouth turned up in a smile as he kissed you, “I think I just showed you, sweetheart.”

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

The Halloween party that year was the talk of the entire theatre company, and had even become gossip among the Broadway community. The very ghosts of the theatre themselves had come out that night. Many of the actors swore that they heard the spirits moaning, faintly but distinctly, reverberating all around the theatre. From the rafters, the darkened corners, even from the very floorboards of the stage itself, eldritch moans and growls could be heard echoing eerily throughout the theatre that night.

Neither of you would ever spoil those rumors. You and Charlie were both flattered that your lovemaking was now quite literally the stuff of legend. It was certainly the best and most memorable Halloween that either of you ever had.

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

© safarigirlsp 2020

Tagging some Charlie lovers. As always, feel free to ignore my bs.

@direnightshade @mariesackler @sydneyssmut @candycanes19 @emeraldsiren19 @finn-ray-nal-beads @historyandfandoms50 @sacklerscumrag @cowboy-kylo @thegreenmatt @clumsycopy @contesa-lui-alucard @ellelaconi

[therainroguefanfiction]

🍂 Never Too Late (Best Jeanist / Tsunagu Hakamada)

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Family, Slice of Life, Halloween, Autumn

Word Count: 3,884

Pairing: Quirkless Reader x Best Jeanist

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: [x] “You answer the door when I’m trick or treating and at first you say I’m way too old to be doing this but somehow I convince you to come out and join me.”

Author’s Note: This was written for the “Sweater Weather” collab over at the BNHA Sanctuary discord server. You can find the masterlist post [here] – make sure you check it out to read the other awesome entries for this collab! Thank you very much @pluviophile-imagines​ for hosting this collab. Happy Autumn everyone! For reference, I picture [this] and [this] for him out of costume. I tried finding the original creators and couldn’t, so if you know please let me know!

October 5th, 10:20 am 🍂

October had finally arrived, bringing with it a slew of brisk weather and a kaleidoscope of vivid oranges, reds, and browns. This was your favorite time of year, a time where you got to fully enjoy yourself, free of the shackles of adulthood. It felt so freeing, as if you were once again a child, ignorant of the ways of the world and just wanting to have fun.

Your eyes scanned the walls, lined with all manner of costumes. The back wall was dedicated to the top heroes, of course, the right wall featuring the usual suspects – cats, witches, zombies, even minions. The opposite wall was dedicated to characters from shows and movies.

Despite having been thinking this decision over for months, you still weren’t sure what you wanted to dress up as. There were just too many choices!

‘Maybe a pirate? Pirates are pretty cool. Ah, but black cats are a Halloween staple!’

After spending more time than you cared to admit, you eventually settled on a black cat pirate – which was just a pirate with black cat ears, a tail, and whiskers drawn on your face. With your costume now acquired, you left the back of the store to fill the basket with various decorations and as many different types of candy that you could find.

Satisfied that you couldn’t fit anything else in the basket, you headed for the front to check out, excited to get home and start decorating.

October 29th, 8:10 pm 🍂

“Ne, Katsuki -” you paused in the doorway of his bedroom, giving him a sheepish smile when multiple pairs of eyes turned to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had your friends over.”

“Try fucking knocking next time,” Katsuki grunted angrily but his tone lacked its usual bite. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“Oh, right! I was going to ask if you wanted to go trick-or-treating with me!” you chirped happily, clapping your hands together.

“Like hell I want to do that dumb shit! I’m not a damn kid anymore!”

“A-Ah, right…” your expression fell but you tried your best to keep your smile intact. You should have known that he wouldn’t agree. Seeing this made his resolve falter but he was in front of his classmates and refused to show weakness to them. If he gave in to you, they’d never let him live it down.

“I’ll go with you!” Kaminari’s hand shot up into the air, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Like hell you will!” Katsuki snapped, smacking the blonde on the back of the head. “You’re a damn adult, you shouldn’t even be doing something so stupid.”

“Yeah…” your smile fell an inch, knowing that he was right. Was it really so wrong? Just because you had passed over into adulthood, you weren’t allowed to have fun? To relive the best time of your life?

“Come on, Bakugo, I bet it’d be fun!” Kirishima commented from across the table.

“Yeah!” Mina agreed, sending you a smile.

You shook your head, giving them a soft closed-eye smile. “It’s alright. Katsuki’s right, you’re not kids anymore! Whatever you guys choose to do on Halloween, please be safe!” You turned on your heel and left the room before anyone could say anything else.

Mina frowned at the closed door before turning to the ash blonde. “Your sibling is so sweet! You shouldn’t be so mean to them, Bakugo.”

“Just shut up and do your damn homework!” he snapped, vermillion eyes narrowed at his notebook as he crossed his arm across his chest. A small pool of guilt was settling within his gut, but he pushed it back just as he always did.

October 31st, 9:30 pm 🍂

You checked the clock as you adjusted your costume in the mirror. It was getting late and most of the kids had already returned home, their parents not wanting them out too late. You honestly felt nervous about going out trick-or-treating, not knowing how people were going to react. The negative part of your brain was telling you that it wouldn’t go over well.

So what if you were an adult? You just wanted to have fun for one night! To forget that you were quirkless and sheltered. To forget how unfair life had been.

Trick-or-treating reminded you of simpler times when your brother was more manageable and kind and was still friends with Izuku. You remembered fondly how your friends would always complain because you had to take the two out trick-or-treating instead of hanging out with them, but you didn’t mind. It was fun for you – plus Katsuki looked adorable as a werewolf and Izuku as a pumpkin.

Now they were both teenagers. Even if they did still want to go trick-or-treating, they would certainly rather be with friends rather than you. They didn’t need you to look after them anymore. They were heroes in training, after all, and you were just a quirkless adult trying to keep it together.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the bad thoughts beginning to form inside your mind, you forced yourself to smile before stepping out of your room and down the stairs.

Masaru, your father, was just shutting the door after handing out candy to some kids. He smiled when he noticed you. “Heading out, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Yup! How do I look, dad?”

“Gorgeous, as always!” he pulled you into a hug before pecking your forehead. “Be safe and don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Okay~” you tried to hurry out the door before your mom realized that you were leaving the house, but she seemed to have a sixth sense about such things. Just as you tugged the door open, she came waltzing out of the kitchen.

“Y/N!” she cried, making your shoulders tense up as you turned slightly. She stood just inside the doorway, her brow furrowed. “You’re really going to go trick-or-treating? You’re too old for this and you…”

“And I’m quirkless and weak,” you finished for her, lips formed into a thin line. “Yeah, I got that, mom. You feel the need to remind me every day.”

“That’s not…” her vermillion eyes landed on her husband and she scowled. “Masaru, tell them that they are too old for this!”

“Honey,” he spoke softly, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Y/N isn’t hurting anyone, they’re just enjoying the season. Go on, Y/N. Have a fun night, sweetheart.”

You sent him a grateful look, ignoring your mom’s sputtering as you quickly slipped out of the house, slamming the door behind you.

The air outside was moist and cold, wind whipping through the trees and robbing them of their leaves. The ground was littered with them, each one a vibrant shade of orange, brown, or red. Despite the sky being covered by clouds, the bright light of the full moon managed to break through in streams.

While the streets were mostly empty, there were still several groups of kids scattered about, talking and laughing loudly. You decided it would be best to leave the neighborhood since most everyone knew who you were. You worried about them complaining to your parents. You already caused them so much trouble, you didn’t want to bring anymore onto them.

October 31st, 10:49 pm 🍂

As the night wore on, more and more people turned their lights off to indicate that they were no longer giving out candy or that they had run out. It was getting hard to find people still participating and most of the kids had given up by this point, deciding to hang out in the cemetery or return home.

‘I haven’t even been out that long, but… I guess I should head home so mom doesn’t end up hurting dad trying to come looking for me,’ you sighed, about to turn around when a light caught your attention from the end of the street. ‘It’s the only house on this street with its lights on. I guess one more can’t hurt!’

You steeled yourself, walking down the dark street toward the house. The street lamps were spread far enough apart to leave darkness between them, the bulbs dull and flickering as they tried to die out. The only decoration on the house was a cute little sign on the door of a pumpkin covered in glitter. The words Happy Halloween were stitched on the top in what looked to be jean fabric.

You had visited quite a few houses and had procured several different types of candy into your bag. Most of them, surprisingly, hadn’t given you a second thought when you knocked on their door. Others just gave you the stink eye but said nothing. There were a few, though, that had given you a stern lecture or cussed you out before slamming the door in your face.

For the first group of people, you believed you had just gotten lucky because you had walked up with or behind a group of kids and they most likely just assumed that you were with them. With no more kids around, though, you couldn’t exactly pull that stunt.

Taking a breath, you brought your hand up, rapping your knuckles on the wood. A minute or so passed before the door was pulled open, revealing a tall, thin man. His blonde hair was swept over his left eye and he wore a tan-colored turtle-neck sweater with a pair of blue jeans. He looked so… familiar, but you couldn’t quite place who he was.

You put on a bright smile, holding up the bag. “Trick-or-treat!”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. “You’re a bit old to be trick-or-treating, don’t you think?”

Your smile didn’t falter because you had expected this already at every house. “Last time I checked, there was no age limit on having fun. I’m not breaking any laws, either. Now, if you don’t mind sir, please give me candy or tell me to leave.”

His blue eyes observed you for a moment, a spark of amusement within them. “Tell me, is it really so fun to do this?”

“I think you,” you nodded. “It reminds me of simpler, happier times. Maybe I’m stupid for trying to cling to that each year, but I’ll be damned if I give up now.”

His gaze locked with yours, softening at the pained look within your eyes. You hid it well, but he was trained to pick up on such things. He pushed away from the doorframe, stepping back inside the house to grab the candy bowl before holding it out to you. “Take what you want. I doubt any other kids will be coming around.”

“Thank you,” you offered him a smile before picking out a few pieces of your favorite candy. “Have a good night.”

“Wait a moment,” he held up his finger before disappearing into the house. When he returned, he was shrugging on a black jacket. “Let me walk you home.”

You quirked a brow as he pulled the door closed, sliding the key in to lock the door. “It doesn’t seem very smart to let a strange man know where I live.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled, keys clinking as he slipped them into his pocket. “Allow me to walk you to your neighborhood, then.”

“What a gentleman,” you smiled softly, beginning down the street with him at your side. “With that kind of attitude, you should be a hero.”

Amusement flickered through his eyes, lips twitching upward. “Hm, I hear being a hero is quite dangerous, though.”

“Yeah…” you turned your gaze to the ground, feeling a frown come to your lips. “That’s what worries me about my brother becoming one. It’s his dream, though, and even if I said anything about it, there’s no way he’d listen. He’s such a hard head.”

“I’m sure he’ll be a great hero one day.”

“He definitely will.”

Silence settled over the two of you as you made it back toward your home. As you passed by another street on the way, you suddenly paused because most of the houses on this street were still lit up and decorated to the nines. Several groups of older kids were making their rounds around the cul-de-sac.

“Ne, sir, do you want to experience trick-or-treating?” you grinned at him, excitement dancing within your eyes.

Blue eyes flickered from your own to the cul-de-sac and back. There was something about the innocent, pure gleam within your eyes that made it hard for him to say no. And it’s not like he had anything better to do with his night. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“Great!” Without much thought, your hand slid into his, tugging him toward the first house. He didn’t understand why, but his heart started to pick up its pace upon feeling your warm skin on his despite the cold weather outside.

October 31st, 11:30 pm 🍂

Katsuki paced around his room, narrowed eyes darting to the clock every few minutes. Where the hell were you? The neighborhood was dark, the neighbors no longer handing out candy and no kids had come by in the past thirty minutes. You should have been home by now, so why weren’t you?

He could hear his mother in the living room pacing back and forth as she loudly voiced the thoughts within his head. The regret that was pooling within his belly from the other day was now getting worse as worry clawed at his insides. What if you had been captured by a villain? His eyes widened at the thought and he tore out of his room, feet stomping down the stairs.

“Katsuki! Where the hell are you going?!” Mitsuki shouted, pausing her pacing to look at her son. “It’s late!”

“None of your business, hag!” He snapped back, flinging the door open.

“At least put on a jacket!”

But he was already out the door, slamming it behind him as he took off in search of you. His heart was thundering in his chest and he could only hope that you were safe. If something had happened to you, he’d never forgive himself for not being there to protect you.

November 1st, 12:00 am 🍂

You giggled as you fell onto the swing, watching the blonde as he settled down beside you. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled softly at you, crossing one leg over the other. “I have to admit, it was more fun than I expected it would be.”

“See~? I told you!”

He chuckled, poking you in the forehead with a slim finger. “So humble.”

You grinned, sticking your chest out. “One of my best qualities!”

“Did you have the night you were expecting?”

“No,” you shook your head, tilting your head back to look at the sky. Some of the clouds had cleared up, allowing more of the moon to shine down on you. “I never expected to meet such a nice person and convert them to the ways of trick-or-treating.”

He propped his chin up in his hand, smiling warmly at you as his eyes slid across your face. With the moonlight shining down on you, you looked so magical and he briefly wondered if you might actually be a witch. It would explain why he felt such a strong connection to you after only having just met you. He most definitely wanted to see you again.

“You never told me your name.”

“You never told me yours, either,” you grinned at him before holding out your hand. “Bakugo Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

His eyes widened at your last name. The image of his first meeting with Bakugo Katsuki filled his mind and it was almost laughable. There was no way such a sweet and kind person could be related to someone so loud and angry. He refused to believe it was anything other than a coincidence.

You tilted your head curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No, sorry. You just reminded me of something.” His hand slid into yours, his skin ice cold from the wind. “Hakamada Tsunagu. It’s a pleasure to officially meet you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks warmed at the way he said your name. It was like honey flowing from his lips and you could definitely get used to hearing it.

November 1st, 12:10 am 🍂

Katsuki huffed as he ran down the street, eyes snapping from one side to the other as he desperately searched for you, calling out your name. He didn’t care that his voice was cracking or that the cold was turning his skin numb.

He was running past the park when he caught movement from the corner of his eye, head snapping around to find the source. Relief flooded him when he saw you walking away from the swings with a smile on your face. Without a second of hesitation, he rushed toward you, screaming out your name as if he hadn’t seen you in years.

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice of your baby brother. “Katsuki, what’s – oof.” His body slammed into yours, arms tight around your body as he buried his face in your neck, holding on to you for dear life. Your heart picked up speed, feeling your nerves begin to fray. Had something happened? “Katsuki -”

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he barked angrily, tightening his grip on you.

“Y-You knew I was going out tonight…” you gently rubbed his back. “Did you forget?”

“No I didn’t forget, dumbass!” he huffed, fingers digging into your back. As badly as he wanted to pull away so he could scold you properly, he was too afraid that you would see the worry and the fear lingering within his eyes. He hated feeling vulnerable, especially around you. He was supposed to be strong, a hero that could keep you safe no matter what. “It’s almost one in the morning!”

“Is it really?” your eyes widened and you understood why he was acting so worried. “I must have lost track of time, I’m sorry, Kat.”

Tsunagu didn’t know how to feel about the sight before him. He felt frustrated that Bakugo Katsuki was, indeed, related to you. He felt amused by how Katsuki was acting, surprised to see something other than plain annoyance within the boy. He also felt a bit sad knowing that his time with you had come to an end.

“You better be sorry!” When Katsuki felt like he had enough control over his emotions, he finally pulled back, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as his narrowed eyes bore into your own. “You’re going to pay me back for this.”

You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head. “I will, I’m sorry.”

“Great, now let’s go home -” he had grabbed your hand, turning toward the entrance of the park when he finally spotted the tall blonde whom he had failed to notice in his relief to see you. His eye twitched, a shitty look coming onto his face as he pointed his finger in the man’s face. “What the fuck are you doing with my sibling?!”

Tsunagu sighed, putting his hand on his hip. “Still as tactless as ever.”

“Wait,” you glanced between the two, blinking curiously. “Do you two know each other?”

“No!” Katsuki snapped, beginning to stomp away but you didn’t budge, turning your gaze to the taller male.

“Tsunagu? How do you know my brother?”

“You’re on a first-name basis already?!”

His blue eyes met yours and his expression softened. “I’m the hero he interned with after the sports festival, Y/N.”

“Don’t you dare use their first name, you bastard!!” Small explosions went off on Katsuki’s palm but the older male just rolled his eyes at him, more focused on how you were taking the news that he was, in fact, a pro hero.

Your eyes widened. “Oh… oh my god. You’re… you’re…”

He smiled warmly, his voice soft. “The number three pro hero, Best Jeanist. At your service, Y/N.” he reached for your hand but Katsuki smacked it away, putting himself between the two of you.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re planning with my sibling, but you can forget it!” Katsuki tugged on your arm. “We’re going home, Y/N!” But you still didn’t move, staring wide-eyed at the tall man before you.

Now you understood why he looked so familiar and you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing it on your own. You had treated him so normally, as if he were just some average person. He isn’t an average person, though, he’s a great and powerful hero, one that had looked after your brother once upon a time.

Tsunagu shifted, his lips tugging down. It was subtle, but he could sense the change in the dynamic between the two of you and he didn’t like it, taking a step closer to you. “Y/N -”

You suddenly bowed, eyes screwed shut. “I apologize for being so flippant with you, Best Jeanist. I didn’t realize who you were.”

He reached for your shoulders and noticed Katsuki reaching for his arm. He was feeling annoyed now, tired of the boy interrupting him and getting between the two of you so he activated his quirk, the threads of his jeans unraveling to bind the younger Bakugo in place. He growled from beneath the cloth, struggling to break his binds.

Your eyes shimmered with wonder as you saw his quirk in action, taking note of the small holes that allowed you to see the milky skin of his outer thigh. You felt your cheeks heating up again when his hands rested on your shoulders, lithe fingers gently squeezing your skin beneath the costume.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Please don’t change how you act around me just because I’m a hero.” His eyes were so sincere and warm as his hand slipped up to your cheek, smiling at the warmth he felt there. “I may be a hero, but I’m still a person. I really did enjoy my time with you tonight.”

“I did, too,” you responded softly, offering him a smile before glancing at your brother, who was still struggling against the fabric. “We really should get home, though. Our mother’s going to have a fit…”

“Of course,” he reluctantly released the boy, dodging backward when Katsuki tried to attack him with an explosion.

“Katsuki!” you scowled, grabbing the back of his shirt without any hesitation, tugging him backward before locking your arm around his neck. “Don’t be so disrespectful!”

“Che, whatever,” he scoffed, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you toward the entrance of the park. You let him for a few paces before you stopped, turning to look back at the blonde that hadn’t moved.

“Are you coming, Tsunagu?”

He gave you a surprised look. “You want me to?”

“Well, you did say you were going to escort me home,” you smiled, biting your lip in thought before finding the nerve to say the next thing you wanted to. “Besides, you need to know where I live if you’re going to pick me up for our date tomorrow.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he chuckled, easily closing the distance with his long legs. You held your hand out to grab his, fingers lacing together. Katsuki grumbled loudly, aiming insults at the blonde as the three of you headed to the Bakugo household, but neither of you were paying attention to him.

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[westmoor]

voices from within (a post-halloween special)

(other parts can be found here)

Following the success of his latest novel, Jaskier accompanies Geralt to fulfill a contract. He only hopes to get some sounds on tape, film some furniture moving, get his name out there and maybe catch the start of a new story - but some houses are haunted by more than just the ghosts of former residents.

---

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice barely rang above a breath. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” For a moment he stood staring up at the building that was to shelter him for the next twenty-four hours, until the slamming of the driver’s side door snapped him out of it and he turned. “Geralt-”

Geralt only hummed his assent. It was impressive, stately even: When Jaskier had referred to it as a castle, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

Wide and squared and two storeys tall, brick painted a light creamy beige offset by dark brown, a dozen arched lattice windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Had he believed houses had personality he might’ve said this one looked friendly, inviting.

“What do you think?” Blue eyes twinkled at him, clearly pleased. “Do you like it? Think it will meet our expectations?”

He didn’t. He was decidedly less excited than his counterpart by what awaited them, and truth be told he would’ve preferred not to be there at all - or rather, preferred for Jaskier not to be there. It was a rule of his, one he’d reinforced after they had gotten together. He did not allow humans near his line of work.

But the novelist, after the success of the initial story featuring a Witcher, had been the one contacted about the job and had even brokered the contract, holding it over Geralt’s head until they had reached a compromise. He would be given free reign to do what he needed for the night, gather whichever so-called supernatural evidence and material he required, as long as he followed direction and kept a safe distance when told to. He had until dawn.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help the sneaking feeling of foreboding lurking at the back of his mind.

So no, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it loomed behind the lean figure of his partner, deceptively calm, crouched like a beast lying in wait.

Geralt was saved from the attempt to voice his concerns - as brash as his boyfriend could be, he was remarkably perceptive - by a second car pulling in behind theirs.

No outside involvement had been another one of Geralt’s demands, triggering a tirade of protests from Jaskier, who in turn had argued that he couldn’t possibly cover the necessary ground on his own. Not within such a short time frame.

Unable to move his witcher, that particular settlement had eventually been perched on a technicality: No outsiders would join their so-called expedition.

How Jaskier had been able to get hold of Lambert and Eskel, much less convinced them both to join in, Geralt would never know.

Sneaky bastard.

Watching his brothers emerge from the car and approach them, however, he felt the restless beast in his chest subdued. Jaskier drew trouble like a spoonful of sugar drew wasps, but surely even he couldn’t manage to put himself in too much danger, not with three pairs of seasoned witcher eyes at his back.  

Rounding the silver hood of the vehicle, Eskel nodded at Geralt and extended a hand in friendly greeting to Jaskier. The two of them had only briefly met but hit it off immediately, which wasn’t too surprising - anyone with the sense not to balk at his scars would find the older wolf to be good company. 

Still waters run deep though, and his brothers knew better than anyone what it would take for a stranger to work through the layers of Eskel’s polite facade and earn real trust. Luckily for all of them, Jaskier’s openness and frank speech - verbose but earnest - had battered at it in much the same way as he’d broken down Geralt’s own walls.

Lambert, on the other hand - 

“Thought you said this place had ghosts, or whatever.” His hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they would go. “Are we going to go find some, or just stand out here until we join them? I’m freezing my tits off.”

Lambert was an acquired taste.

Jaskier didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and eagerly grasped the incentive to get moving. Within moments he had ushered them all up the double stone steps with an authority that probably wasn’t appropriate for a young man to direct at three monster-hunting mutants twice his size, but seemed entirely natural to him. 

Geralt thanked his lucky stars that neither brother commented on the quickening of his heartbeat.

---

If the exterior was impressive, the interior was overwhelming.

Heavy oak doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and they were led through to a lounging area, masterfully decorated to reflect the wealth and status of its original owners, walls practically dripping with frames illustrating its rich history. Past cushioned chairs, rococo sofas and tables on spindly legs, a grand staircase twisted up to the second floor, banister continuing along an interior balcony wrapping around the entrance from above. Beyond, rows of pearly white doors and pastel hallways would carry them into the heart of the manor.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping through time. Despite the electric lights and vague distant hum of heating units, each piece in sight was as close to original as could be hoped for, selected and maintained with utmost care. 

But there was something else, too. Not so much a smell as a breath, an unmistakable lingering of things long lost.

Neither witcher voiced it, though they all clearly noticed - eyes skimming walls and nostrils flaring momentarily before they discerned what couldn’t be pinned down.

Jaskier slipped seamlessly into the role of the enthusiastic guide, throwing tidbits and details left and right while introducing the trio to the building’s past and present characters. His brothers exchanged glances at the shift in demeanour, but Geralt remained unfazed. He knew the writer hadn’t stumbled into his profession by chance, but lived and breathed for such occasions. Be it in speech or in prose, he was a born narrator.

What followed was a thorough tour of every notable room, nook, and cranny, all with a performative flair and tinged with what Jaskier referred to as reported phenomenons. Geralt hung back. He had already heard the broad strokes of it, but listened nonetheless, the added structure and dulcet tone of his lover’s voice crafting it into a proper story. 

The other two were paying the attention of hearing it for the first time, and his mind revived the question of how they’d been convinced to join in the first place. He might end up having to ask.

Though Jaskier was an entertaining host - and only got them lost twice - an hour had come and gone by the time they completed their loop and found themselves back at the top of the staircase.

“Now, gentlemen!” Clapping his hands, their guide halted in front of one of the large white doors. One, Geralt noted, they hadn’t opened yet. “If you would so kindly help bring in the equipment and start setting up for the night…” His lips quirked in that mischievous way at least one of them had come to know all too well. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

A lesser man would have succumbed to Lambert’s baiting comments and Geralt’s glare, but Jaskier’s penchant for dramatics could weather any storm. 

Only once the car had been emptied of gear and devices, wires stretched and screens installed, and after he’d procured a sturdy meal for his companions through a particularly scared-looking pizza delivery person, were they allowed back near the second floor landing.

“I want to look everything over one more time before we start recording, and maybe move another cam down to the first floor. The maid’s quarter is said to be particularly reliable, lots of people claim to have heard voices - lullabies even - between 3 and 4am.”

It was Eskel, who so far had been the most amenable of the group and asked only the most practical questions, that finally raised the issue that had crawled steadily closer to the surface as they worked. “This seems like a pretty big contract for a few disembodied voices.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s grin grew wide. “But we’ve only scratched the surface so far. “

“In here,” he tapped the great door behind him, “lies the heart of this little castle, the grand salon, where the original owners would entertain guests. Basically the entire staff claims to have heard sounds coming from here. Music, clinking glass, the clamour of voices, as if there’s a party taking place, dragging well into the night. But when they open the door and look inside…” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing! Dark and abandoned, quiet as a grave.”

“If the claims are true, this is where it all began. There was an accident, you see, a real tragedy, one that cost the master of the house - a mister Lamm - and all six of his sons their lives. His widow, Dora, unable to let go and half mad with grief, prayed day and night to be reunited with her husband and to see her family again. But when religion failed her, as it’s wont to do, she cast her net wider, and gathered every prominent mystic and occultist of her time to aid her quest.”

Geralt stepped closer, the crux of their stay finally about to be revealed to his brothers, who were following the recounting with rapt attention.

“And she succeeded in bringing them back. Not to life, perhaps, but the halls were filled with children’s laughter and the sounds of running footsteps once again. Dora is said to have sat up nightly, listening, speaking to them until dawn. Only, it wasn’t the only thing they brought along.”

Eskel nodded, an idea of which road the story was about to go down, but waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I don’t know that I believe everything -” 

Lambert snorted, earning a sharp elbow to the side.

“- but according to mediums and other visitors who’ve stayed here over the years, the house is open somehow. Like a friction point worn thin. Supposedly whatever leaks through serves as a sort of battery for the rest - the knocking, the voices, the singing - but it’s not just that, either.”

Jaskier’s voice lowered a note as he dropped the theatrical edge, turning serious. “Previous employees say it… changes people. Makes them ill, triggers things. Makes them say and do things and behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. Most don’t stay very long. Others won’t leave, even after their employment is terminated.”

“The current owner wants it shut, whatever it is,” Geralt interjected. 

If Jaskier was annoyed at having his flow broken, it didn’t show, and he smoothly picked back up. “And that’s why we’re here! By morning, thanks to Geralt’s ministrations, this place should be as devoid of any spiritual activity as any regular old heap of rocks, and I want to catch it before it goes.”

Silence fell over the group.

“That’s it?” Lambert looked at Jaskier, brows raised. Then at Geralt, and back at Jaskier, who nodded affirmatively. He shrugged. “Okay. Fun.”

Geralt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and Jaskier leaned up to the door. 

“Well then, friends, if you’re ready!” He flicked the lock, before stepping back and turning to Geralt, features seeped in expectation. 

“Darling, would you do the honours?”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #369

“so close, no matter how far  /  couldn’t be much more from the heart  /  forever trusting who we are  /  and nothing else matters”

What are three emotions you experience regularly? Sadness, shame, and stress. Is there someone right now whom you really wish would care for you? -___- Does your job allow visible tattoos? I don’t have a job, but quite honestly, I probably wouldn't take a job that didn't. I just love tattoos a lot and plan on having many, and ignorance and old-fashioned bullshit isn't gonna stop me. Do you know anyone that’s transgender? Yes. Do you think dress codes are unfair? In some places, like schools, yes. Are in a relationship? Tell me about it. I'm not. How is your road rage? I don't have road rage. By god does my sister, though. Favorite cosmetic brands? I don't wear makeup nearly enough to have a preference. The beach or the pool? The pool. I hate the feeling of sand, plus the salty wind and heat. Manga or anime? Anime. Favorites for manga? I've never read any. It's tempting to read Deadman Wonderland since it continues off the very short anime, but I just don't want to. Manga isn't my style. Favorites for anime? Fullmetal Alchemist (including Brotherhood), Ginga Densetsu Weed, and Deadman Wonderland. Favorite academic subject? English. A card game that you’re good at? I'm not exceptionally good at any. Do you eat breakfast? Pretty much always. A popular book you haven’t read yet? To Kill A Mockingbird, to name one I feel like everyone had to read in school. Do you like sweaters? I'm an oversized hoodie person, really. I don't like the look of zippers. Do you like sushi? Never tried it, never will. Do you wear prescription glasses? Yes. I badly need a new pair, because I can't see for shit. Generally, are you more likely to blame others or yourself for problems you experience? Myself. What is one thing about your life that you don’t ever see changing, even if you might wish it would? I have a feeling I'll always have some degree of social anxiety. I'm sure there are other things just not coming to me. At what point in your life have you been the most social or had the most friendships? And at which point have you been the least social? I had the most friends in my childhood years, probably. Or high school when I actually had a friend group. I'm sure I was most social as a kid in elementary school, not dealing with my social anxiety. I've been the least social like... now, honestly. I go essentially nowhere and have very few friends. Do you prefer to have a few close friends or a bunch of random acquaintances? Which would describe what you have now? I want close friends. I have like... two or so close friends and a handful of acquaintances. I don't know which I have "more" of when you consider the actual level of friendship/"quality" I guess. Do you journal? Generally, what do you write about? Do you find it helpful to get your thoughts out that way, or do you prefer another form of self-expression? I don't actually journal, but you could consider these surveys my "journal." I guess it's kinda why I do them so frequently? Like it lets me get stuff that's going on out, so I find it kinda therapeutic versus keeping all my thoughts jumbled up in my head. Have you ever been somewhere and REALLY didn't like a food that you were expected to eat? How did you deal with this? Are you someone who is likely to suck it up and be polite or refuse and save your taste buds? To start off, I am VERY bad at sucking it up and eating something I don't like. My gag reflex is very strong, and I'm also extremely sensitive to textures I don't like, so my reactions are just very involuntary. I can try to subdue my expression when I dislike something, buuut that's extremely difficult. But anyway, yes, I've been to places where I definitely disliked the food, especially this one occasion where we went to a local Southern cooking restaurant that literally ASSUMED you want the staple foods and sweet tea, none of which I enjoy. While everyone else was eating, I just very awkwardly sat there doing nothing and pretty much panicking over looking rude. Thank god, Ashley's father-in-law noticed and called over the waiter for me to actually order something, the way it should be. I was very thankful but still felt bad. What is one way in which you compare yourself to others? In this comparison, do you regard yourself as better or worse off than the people to whom you usually do the comparing? I am very bad and comparing successes with others, but only in ways that demeans me. Like I look at others and am just like, "Why aren't I there yet?" It always leads to anger and disgust of myself. What is something you’ve been particularly grateful for lately? I've thought a lot lately about how thankful I am to have my mom. She does so very much for me, and I don't think I could absolutely ever repay her in full. I wish I could. She's a damn superhero. What kind of change or opportunity would be the biggest help in your life right now? I was initially going to say getting a job, but thinking about it, getting to my goal weight might be an even greater help. It would help my leg pain, not having to carry as much around, I'm sure my hyperhidrosis wouldn't be as bad (I hope), and it would MASSIVELY affect my happiness. Like I cannot tell you how negatively my weight has damaged my self-esteem, confidence, and peace with myself. Is there one emotion that you experience more often than any other? Is there an emotion you rarely ever experience? I'd say I experience stress more than anything. I'm always thinking of something that's causing a ruckus in my life. A rare emotion for me is uhhhh jealousy, even though I've dealt with it more lately. What is one illness you are afraid of having? Do you know anyone who has faced this illness? The disease that I think scares me more than any is Alzheimer's/dementia. I just... cannot possibly imagine. How do you tend to behave when you’re sick? What kinds of things do you like people to do for you, if anything, to help you feel better? I'm very mopey and tired, and I can be a bit more irritable. I really, really appreciate help with things like chores when I'm not feeling well. When was the last time you did something you were proud of? Were other people proud of you as well? Does it matter to you whether or not other people care about your accomplishments, or is your own satisfaction enough? It's a very small thing, but I weaned down from having two cans of soda a day to just one. Mom is proud of me for it, which I appreciate a lot. Admittedly, it does kinda matter to me that those who know it's a big deal to me see and care about my accomplishments. I'm bad about needing external validation. What is your least favorite thing about the season you’re currently experiencing? Are you okay with most types of weather, or are you only happy under certain conditions? Ugh, the heat. Spring and summer are miserable to me because I veeery much love the chilly weather and no damn humidity. Have you made any changes to your style or “look” lately? How often do you change your appearance, hairstyle, fashion, etc? Or is it a pretty constant thing? No; my style is pretty constant. What was the last thing you felt hopeful about? Do you think there’s a good chance of whatever-it-is working out in your favor, or not so much? Getting a job at the tattoo parlor. I'm fearful that they won't be open to the position I'd like, so I'm trying to not get my hopes up too high. We'll find out in two days. Have you ever “recovered” from anything? What does “recovery” mean or look like to you? Yes, a traumatic breakup. I'd say recovery is just healing as much as possible from something, be it physical or emotional. What are some ways your childhood differed from those of others around you? Do you think this difference was harmful or advantageous in the long run? My dad was an alcoholic, if that qualifies. That definitely isn't a *normal* thing for someone's childhood. I think it was harmful, honestly, especially because I've had more than a few nightmares about my dad drunk. When was the last time you did something out in nature? Do you notice a dip in your mood when you don’t get enough of the Great Outdoors? Oh jeez... Probably not since Sara and I went catfishing with my dad. I wandered around with her some as she ventured for toads, haha. I don't really notice a dip in my mood, just because I'm so used to being indoors. I do prefer getting some time with nature, it's just hard and uncomfortable with how easy I sweat, and my knees sure do cuss me the fuck out in the form of a billion cracks if I walk much (by my standards...). What did you dream about last night? I had two dreams, but I only remember one, in which a giant green tree python was eating me backwards so I was conscious through it all. No hard feelings, I still want one as a pet, haha. They're GORGEOUS snakes and no, absolutely cannot eat you even if it tried its damnedest. What were your childhood dreams? To be a paleontologist, then a vet. What are your dreams now? If we're talking career-wise, to be a nature and wildlife photographer that gets to travel a lot. What are some Halloween costumes you would like to wear in the future? I've mentioned that #1 on my list is Ms. Oogie Boogie, then uhhhh... wow, I'm surprised I'm blanking, because I know there are lots I've thought of. Were you born with hair on your head? Yes. Would you rather have a home birth or hospital birth? I'm not having kids, but holy mother of fuck I'd have my baby at a hospital with a goddamn epidural. I do NOT know how some people can do it naturally, bigass props to them. Do you currently live in the house you grew up in? No. If not, what do you miss about it?^ It was just in general a nice house, the best one we've lived in. We had a pretty big yard too, so lots of room to play around as kids. What’s your favorite type of yogurt? I'm not a big yogurt person, really. What were your high school’s team colors? Red and white. Who were your best friends in high school? Hannia, Girt, Maria, Megan, Dennis, Dakota... What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? A tarantula. *puppy eyes emoji* Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? If so, what? English courses were very easy for me, and I was pretty good with science. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? Not like, a whole grade, but I surpassed Writing I in my last college endeavor and started out in Writing II instead. What’s your favorite rock band? Oh brother, you can't ask me this. Who’s your favorite country singer? I consistently like Tim McGraw a bit. How many drawers does your dresser have? My dresser is unnecessarily big. There's like five or six. Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? Yes. One of my favorite pictures I've taken was at Ashley's gender reveal for Emerson; even she didn't know. When her husband pulled the fog thing and it was pink, her expression was just priceless. Was your first car used or new? I haven't had my first personal car. How did you discover your favorite band? By going through my mom's CDs when I was getting into rock music. Ozzy was the first truly metal and not rock band that I ventured into. What was the last big decision you made? BIG decision... I don't know. Probably dropping out of college. What is your favorite thing to go shopping for? I love window shopping for pets online, haha. What was the last thing you changed your mind about? A political stance. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? Oh yikes, it's been more than a while... It may have been Girt? In which case we probably watched TV or played board games together. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else’s dreams? Jason just loves to show up in my dreams more than anyone else. I don't really wonder that, no. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? I wish I could tell Bryar (Jason's friend I got in a fight with) I misunderstood something he said to me ("martyr" has two different definitions, and I somehow didn't know the modern one at the time) that made me seem like an absolute, attention-seeking bitch. It's so fucking embarrassing to look back on, because I agreed with him because I thought he meant it as I would die for my beliefs, which is true. What worries you most about your future? Whether or not I'll ever be in the physical shape I want to be in again. Or if I'll have a stable job. What is something you do to feel better when you’re scared? Find distractions, like funny YouTube videos. I also engage in deep breathing and grounding methods. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? Oh my god, in elementary school, we read a book where everything a boy touched turned to chocolate. Weird book. Do you prefer to watch movies or tv alone or with other people? Is there anything you refuse to watch alone? Other people, definitely. I like having someone to talk to and comment on what we're watching. There's nothing I won't watch alone. What was the subject of the last video you watched? It was a let's play.

[blu-joons]

SEASONS BTS HEADCANON ~ Jeon Jungkook

Summer

Jungkook loves beach days, being able to make the most of the long, hot weather that made him so happy and relaxed

The two of you loved to make cocktails together in your back garden, trying all sorts of different things

“I don’t know what you’ve put in here, but it’s gone right to my head Kook, that’s a crazy one.”

Dates were always outside doing fun activities, either the fun fair or a festival, or something along those lines

He wasn’t afraid to walk around with his top off and flex his muscles on you

“Y/N, do I look good? Look at me, tell me how good I look.”

Spending time with your families is something he loves to do, inviting everyone to your home

His hair is usually short during the summer to stop him getting so hot

You have to work hard to convince him to not wear black clothes in the heat

“Going to a concert in black in this weather is asking for trouble, at least put your grey tee on, save yourself a little bit.”

Travelling is one of your favourite things to do, exploring the world in the beautiful weather

Late night walks are beautiful, Jungkook loves to snap photos as you walk around as the night draws in

He’s like a big kid sometimes, especially when he hears the ice cream van coming down your street

Summers are about being with your friends, you and the boys are always doing things

 Autumn

He loves to explore when the leaves fall and photograph all the different colours

Halloween is huge for Jungkook, he loves to get involved and decorate the house

“I was thinking about putting some fake blood up the garden path, what do you reckon?”

The two of you have a tradition of going pumpkin picking, and having competitions as to who can carve the best pumpkin

A lot of your evenings are spent exploring firework displays, again, with Jungkook attached to his camera to snap photos

Late nights are often spent out in your garden, lighting bonfires and toasting marshmallows

“I’m so cold, it’s a good job you decided on putting this fire on tonight.”

It’s his favourite time of year, as the weather gets cooler and the winter sets in, he loves pulling his big jumpers back out of his wardrobe

It never mattered about the weather, you’d often go on walks, you’d slip on your wellies or raincoats and go out and explore

The two of you love collecting leaves and twigs, making garlands and wreaths to scatter around the house

“That’s really cute Y/N, maybe you could regift it for Christmas, Namjoonie loves things like this.”

Every year you’d both buy a new blanket to snuggle under through the cold weather

He loves to get you on ghost walks and horror houses, but it’s not your favourite thing at all

Kook loves to spend evenings watching the gorgeous sunsets, snapping plenty of photos

 Winter

Jungkook is big on Christmas, and spending time with his family, it’s his most treasured time of year

On the off chance it snows, he turns into a big kid, throwing snowballs at you and building snowmen

“I’m going to name this one Jimin, he’s about the same height as him anyway.”

Spending cosy nights by the fire makes him incredibly happy, it’s his favourite time

He loves to wear his big, thick, woolly clothes in the winter, keeping himself nice and snug

The cold weather often inspires him, as he spends time indoors, writing plenty of lyrics for the band

“I’ve written a song inspired by that family we saw out sledging at the park yesterday, it’s weird what can get the creative juices flowing sometimes.”

Exploring, again, is one of his favourite things, taking pictures of all the things winter brings

Being able to spend nights with you makes him very happy, doing lots of crafty things

The best day of the year is putting up the Christmas decorations, giving you a leg up to put the star on the tree

His hair usually grows during the cold weather to keep him warm, as well as knowing how much you love it

“Can you lay beside me for a while? Just so I can play with your hair.”

With the rainy weather, his romantic side definitely comes out, taking you out for a dance, making sure to record it

 Spring

During spring, he loves to rise early, it’s the only season he does for, so he can see the sunrise

It’s often about new beginnings, so he tries to start at least one new hobby in time for spring

“This year I’ve decided to take up cooking, it’s about time someone gave Jin hyung a helping hand in the kitchen.”

The garden is well looked after, he likes to buy new plants to let grow and take pictures of

Heading out for walks, picnics in the park, just enjoying the fresh air again is great fun

Going out running and swimming in the pool restarts for him as the weather warms up once again

Just being able to walk around the house without being freezing cold is a great relief to him

He likes to go out for food, and be able to sit on the tables outside of the restaurant and watch the world go by

“Look at that guy over there, looks like his wife has bought the whole shop and he’s the one who’s got to carry it.”

You’d often find him sat in the garden listening to the birds, sketching little doodles of whatever was before him

Spring usually called for a spring clean from you, even if Jungkook just sat around, watching you do it all

“Jungkook, can you move, I’ve got a pile of clothes just by your foot that need to go to the charity shop.”

The two of you love looking through the spring sales, changing up your wardrobe and helping each other find new clothes

Masterlist

[ruby-dear]

all of them except 77, 78, 81, 92 and 96

Ember, I know this was you. I’m doing it, but that’s 93 questions you’re asking for so they’re going under a cut. 

1. Talk about your first love. There have been a lot of those, so let me talk about the first one I really remember. I was in eighth grade, at the time, and she wasn’t exactly a great person looking back but she was cool and confident and she liked me, and she called me her best friend, and probably the best school-related memory I’ve ever had was her tackle-hugging me from across a classroom. I didn’t even realize I liked girls until she’d pretty much left my life completely. Maybe I’m looking at it through rose-tinted glasses now, but I think that’s okay, sometimes.  2. What’s the most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard in your opinion? Most of my favorite songs are Owl City, especially the older stuff. It has a soft, dreamlike vibe to it that I find really pretty even when it’s depressing. 3. How’s your heart feeling right now? Pretty good, I think? 4. What kind of self care is your favorite to do? The fun stuff. Bath bombs, makeup, fancy shampoo. Retail therapy actually works pretty well for me, even if a lot of the time I don’t even buy anything. 5. What’s your skincare routine? Um... Shower? 6. How did you get to be so beautiful? Natural talent and carefully learned confidence. 7. Do you have any stuffed animals? Oh, do I. I have like, seventy Webkinz, and that’s without getting into anything else. You could say I collect plushes, even if I don’t do it as actively now. I have a couple of Eevee plushes, too - I’d say I want to own all of them one day, but I’m like, 95% sure that’s not possible. 8. Best trip you’ve ever been on? Once, we went to Prince Edward Island for a week, and my mom surprised me by meeting up with my best friend’s family, who happened to have gotten a room at our hotel for one night. I think that probably wins. 9. Favorite thing about your room? That it’s starting to look like it belongs to me, even if I want to move somewhere else. 10. Opinion on love? It takes work, but it’s worth it.

11. Are you affectionate? Around people I’m comfortable with, definitely. 12. Who do you look up to? The people who have enough confidence to be unapologetically be themselves.

13. Favorite poet? Robert Frost. When I was eleven, I found a book of his poems, and I loved that book so much I didn’t pay any attention in English class at all.

14. Song that makes you happy? How about one that calms you down when you’re in a bad place? There’s a lot of songs that make me happy. Hard to go wrong with the Pokemon theme, though. As for things that calm me down... It’s Alright by Mother Mother and Misguided Ghosts by Paramore have both got me through a lot.

15. Do you play an instrument? No. I was supposed to learn piano in seventh grade, but I couldn’t read the sheet music so they never let me play, and I tried to learn guitar multiple times but it never stuck for the same reason.

16. Do you do art? Using what (pencil, watercolor, etc)? I paint, though not as often as I’d like to! Using acrylics, usually, but watercolors sometimes.

17. Do you dance? What style of dance? I took ballet as a child, til they kicked me out of class, and I still enjoy dancing but I don’t remember any of what I learned.

18. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you believe in astrology? Gemini. I think it might have some kind of truth behind it, but I’m not really one of those all-or-nothing people. It’s just for fun, you know?

19. Favorite old film? I don’t watch a lot of them. Does The Aristocats count?

20. What’s your hairstyle? It’s long and wavy. I’m getting blue highlights soon.

21. What weather is the most beautiful, in your opinion? Light rain. The kind that dries off before you get inside, when the sky is perfectly clear, but it starts falling anyway and it stops just as quickly.

22. What upsets you most about the world? That however hard we try to fix it, we’re unlikely to get very far.

23. Are you in love right now? Yes. At least, I think so.

24. Do you have a crush? If so, talk about them! I have a girlfriend. Is that the same thing? She’s cute and funny and she thinks the same things about me for some reason, and she knows exactly how much of a disaster I can be and hasn’t run away yet.

25. Do you have pets? Talk about something sweet about them! I have a cat, Little Prince. His sister died about a month ago, and she was the one who usually kept me company (total lap-cat), but ever since he’s usually either close to where I am or comes when I call him over.

26. Do you have a lucky number? Any multiple of seven, but especially fourteen. They’re my favorite numbers for the same reason.

27. Have you ever wished on a star? What about on a fallen eyelash? I try to wish on stars, when I see them. Eyelashes I’m usually more annoyed about than anything.

28. Do you believe emoji spells to work? I think anything has the potential to work, given the right amount of effort and intent. That said, I don’t think you’re going to accomplish anything drastic.

29. Do you believe in magic in general? Oh, definitely. Just look at the world we live in. How can you not believe in magic when it’s all around you? The night sky without air pollution, the sunlight dancing on the water, candy cane white hot chocolate - it’s everywhere, in everything.

30. What’s the most beautiful thing in life, In your opinion? Everything. There’s something beautiful in everything, if you look for it. Today, let’s say the feeling of sliding around on a hardwood floor in fluffy socks, dancing along to one of your favorite songs.

31. Opinion on the color pink? What about baby blue? As a kid, I hated pink. I like it now, though. Blue is my color, light blue especially (particularly with star patterns), so I’ve always liked it.

32. What instrumental sound is your favorite? Am I alloawed to say wind chimes? I’ve always thought they sounded super pretty.

33. Do you like the sound of wind? What about the sound of rain? I love them both.

34.Who makes you happy? My friends. All of them, in different ways, the people who are still in my life for various reasons. I love them.

35. What makes you happy? Light rain, strong wind, good music. My cat’s soft meow when I wake him up by accident. White peppermint hot chocolate. Fall colors, string lights, Halloween and winter holidays. Ice and snow and skating, dressing up for no apparent reason. The trick to it all is finding new things every day.

36. Imagine your ideal life, the life you wish to make, what will that look like? A house big enough for a family. A degree of some kind hanging on the wall. A life where I’m making things because that’s what I love, and I can try new things just for fun, where I don’t have to worry about money so much. The chance to get married someday, maybe.

37. Do you wear makeup? If so what’s your favorite type of makeup or specific makeup product? Favorite store to buy makeup? I do! Unless someone else is doing it for me, I generally keep to lipstick and eyeshadow. I’ve never been especially picky about what brands I use, but I usually go to Nyx because it’s on my usual route when I go on shopping trips, and I’m kind of attached now. Plus, nowhere else I’ve been in person has as many bold colours.

38. Do you wear dresses? If so what’s your favorite dress you own? I like wearing dresses. My favorite that I still have is a longer black dress, and it’s in serious need of either repair of retirement, but I got it for $20 as a cosplay outfit last year and it served its purpose. I wear it around still, sometimes, because it’s generally an easy fix.

39. Ever been heartbroken? How do you deal with it? Yeah, a few times. I vent to my friends, usually, and then I eat ice cream and listen to gnash for a while and eventually I start to feel better.

40. Who’s your closest friend? What do you love about them?

41. Introvert or extrovert? Kinda both? It’s complicated.

42. Do you like MBTI? What’s your MBTI? Is that... Fuck, is that the one with the letters? I think I got ENFP last time, and when I was younger it was INFP.

43. Would you be a fairy, a mermaid, a vampire, a siren, a or an angel? I’ve had people tell me I have ‘fae vibes’ before, so let’s go with that and hope it’s not offensive.

44. What’s the best song a friend has ever introduced to you? I don’t remember enough of them to feel good about picking one. I basically only listen to music I’m recommended now.

45. Parlez-vous français? A little, by virtue of being Canadian and having driven through Quebec. Not enough to carry on a conversation.

46. Most beautiful place you’ve been to? Prince Edward Island, hands down. It’s gorgeous.

47. Where/when do you truly feel at home? When there’s a light breeze, and the perfect song is playing, and the people I love are there. When we’re laughing with each other.

48. Does smiling put you in a better mood? Try it right now, you’re smile is gorgeous! I don’t think it does, honestly? But it does tend to happen when I’m happy.

49. Favorite shoe you own? These ankle boots I got secondhand that have little metal stars on them. I’m gonna be so upset when they finally wear out and I need new ones.

50. Can you walk in stilettos? Do you like them? God, no, I’ve tried. Any heel that’s too sharp or pointy or tall is a major problem for me. It’s part of what makes finding shoes such a pain.

51. Do you feel loved? Not always, but yeah. When I remember, or when I ask, or when I’m reminded.

52. How do you express love to those you care about? I try to tell them, but I’m also the type to engage in constant teasing. I’m the friend that punches you in the arm as a show of affection.

53. Favorite term(s) of endearment? The more creative ones. The basics don’t do much for me, honestly, but it’s more about the person saying them anyway.

54. Most romantic thing someone’s ever done for you? Make me feel like I don’t have to try so hard to feel like myself.

55. When is the happiest you’ve ever been? Walking the downtown city streets in winter. It was cold, sure, but it was gorgeous and I finally felt independent for a while.

56. Are you happy right now? Yeah, I’d say so.

57. What makes you smile? Bad jokes, among other things.

58. Do you laugh a lot? Yeah. A lot more than I used to.

59. What’s your favorite kind of aesthetic? Punk/scenecore. They’ve really influenced my more recent style choices.

60. Do you want to marry for love or for some other reason (like money)? Love, definitely.

61. What would your dream wedding look like? Do you want to get married? With someone I love, and the other people I love there too. Somewhere beautiful. I think I do, someday, but it’s not something I’m so worried about.

62. Favorite flower? Roses. Blue Moon Hybrid Tea Roses, in particular, are especially pretty.

63. Favorite artist? I don’t really have one. I do enjoy looking at art, though.

64. Favorite music artist? Owl City.

65. How kind do you think you are? Is kindness important to you? I don’t know. People seem to think I’m kinder than I believe I am. It’s important to me, yeah, to try and help people and to do nice things.

66. Ever made a playlist for someone? A few times. They were never anything special, as far as I’m concerned.

67. Do you have anything you do to physically comfort you when your sad? Such as a favorite blanket? Or a relaxing bath? Long, warm baths and cuddling with my cat. Warm blankets and stories with happy endings.

68. Early bird or night owl? Night owl. I’m a night person.

69. Morning routine? Wake up, do nothing for a while, actually get out of bed and figure out breakfast. While that’s going on, try and figure out if anything important is happening today.

70. Night routine? Get comfortable, then write or daydream til I fall asleep.

71. What is the most lovely quality a person could have in your opinion? Self-confidence and a willingness to help others.

72. Do you cry often? Does crying help you get the emotions out? Do you feel better after? I tend to hold back my feelings til they all fall out. So I end up crying at least twice a month, usually. It helps, yeah.

73. Do you like hugs? From people I feel comfortable with.

74. When was the last time you kissed someone? On the lips? Never.

75. Are you small or tall? Small. I’m 5′0.

76. Do you like wholesome memes? Yes. They’re cute.

79. Have you ever lived in a different country than you currently live in? Nope. I’ve never lived outside this city, only been on trips.

80. Do you like plane flights? Airports? I’ve only flown once, and I was two, so I don’t remember it very well.

82. The beach or a forest? Sand or bugs? Depends on the day. Today, though, forest.

83. What time of day do you tend to be in the best mood? Evening, usually.

84. Do you push yourself to act together and in a good mood even when you aren’t? Yeah, when I’m stressed.

85. Favorite kind of tree? Either maple or pine. I’m Canadian, what can I say?

86. Do you care about the health of the Earth? Yes, but there’s only so much one person can do.

87. What did you like most about your childhood, if anything? Field trips. Adulthood is sorely lacking in field trips.

88. Do you read a lot? What’s your favorite book? I used to. These days I still read, but it’s mostly fanfiction. My favorite books, though, are Tamora Pierce’s Emelan series and the first two books of Kenneth Oppel’s Silverwing trilogy.

89. What are you most nostalgic for at the moment? Trick-or-treating.

90. What’s your favorite personality trait you have? I try to let the people I love know that I love them.

91. List at least ONE thing you love about your appearance. I have pretty great hair.

93. Do you worry a lot? Constantly.

94. The dazzling lights of the city or the relaxing countryside? The city. The countryside’s nice, but the streetlights and the city skyline are what make me feel at home.

95. Ever changed the shoelaces on one of your shoes? For what reason? I actually don’t know how to tie laces, so no. I’ve never been able to pick it up. I might get someone sense to, if I could find cool enough laces.

97. Do you like doing little acts of kindness? Yeah. It feels good to make people happy, you know?

98. How’s your day/night going? Pretty good! I did just spend over an hour on this, but I finished it, so that’s an accomplishment of its own.

[the67impalaonbakerstreet]

Not so Strange or Unusual Part 3

Sorry for the delay. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it from your p.o.v or Beetlejuice’s. Also, writer’s block. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know if you guys would prefer a gender neutral reader.

My alarm went off and I glared at the screen of my phone. After Lydia woke me up, I couldn’t really go back to sleep. It felt like someone was watching me. I remember that was having a great dream, but I couldn’t remember what it was about. Something about stripes????

Whatever. I was on break and wanted to go back to bed, maybe dream that dream again. I silenced my phone and crawled back under the covers. Laying down, I started to drift off when a chill crept up my spine. I switched positions under the thick blanket, but the chill followed. Finally, when the sheets were in complete disarray from toss and turning, I gave up.

I blindly pulled an outfit from my bag and trudged to the bathroom. I could’ve stayed in the blissfully scouring shower for a while, but the water suddenly turned to ice making my jump out like a startled deer. My foggy reflection showed the conditioner still in my hair. So, I rinsed it off in the sink and got dressed. Turns out I grabbed my black and white flannel with a pair of leggings. Not bad for a half blind, pre-coffee outfit pick.

The only good thing about being up early on break was HGTV. I rarely got to enjoy watching the channel in between classes and work. This time of day, I could yell at Karen from Houston that she should totally get House 2 because of the pool. I made my coffee with all the fixings and sat under a blanket. Even with the hot coffee I couldn’t get all the way warm. I’d have to ask Lyds about this chill. Wherever you went in the house, it seemed to be there. Oh, haunted house for Halloween too. 

After about an hour of making snarky comments to myself about home décor and school zones, my friend decided to pull herself out of bed as well. Maybe the chill got to her too. I swear we both would’ve slept in if we could.

“Good morning my gorgeous pale princess,” I called over House Hunters. She glared at me. Lydia was even less of a morning person than I was. “I made coffee.” The glared lessen to a scowl of annoyance.

After she had her second cup; it was safe to talk. “Wanna be catty with me? We can totally criticize Debora from Charleston for not getting the chef’s kitchen, or something. It’ll be fun.” A grunt of conformation. Progress. We watched Love or List it, or I watched the show and Deetz held her head in the direction of the flat screen while sipping her coffee. “They totally should’ve loved it! That master bath was to die for. Spa shower, yes please,” I got up to refill her cup when a gust of wind blew through the house slamming doors and rattling windows,

Suddenly Lydia was wide awake and looking everywhere around the room. This time, I didn’t look to try and find what she was seeing. “Deetz, what’s going on? You’ve got me a little worried.”

My friend schooled her features into a calm mask. “Nothing important, just an old house. It’s drafty.”

“That wasn’t a draft sweetness. That was a full weather front. Is there something you want to tell me?” I knew pushing her wasn’t nice, but I would be lying if I wasn’t a little freaked out. A part of me wanted to grab my stuff and run. Haunted house and king bed be damned.

Lydia looked like she was having an internal battle, finally one side won, and she crumpled back down onto the couch. “Please, please, please believe me Y/n. I am not crazy. I know that I haven’t always been open about my family.” She took a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around herself. “The last time I told a friend about this, it didn’t go well.  My life, it’s a little strange and unusual.” Lydia looked on the brink of tears. I could tell she was trying to hold it together for me.

I sat down and drew my friend into a hug. “Of course I’ll believe you. You’re the most realistic person I know.” She took a minute to calm down then wiggled out of my arms. Lydia has never been big on physical contact. A hug was rare thing from her. A greeting was usually a smile with snark.

She looked into my eyes with complete and utter seriousness and said, “My house is haunted, and I can see ghosts.”

The house seemed to hold it’s breath while I tried to process this. Even the chill went away.

I’ve never really believed in ghosts. Even when my parents moved into a century old house to start a bed and breakfast, nothing ever happened. I always wanted to believe, sure. Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural, I was both a Boogara and a Shaniac. Nothing ever happened to me to make me believe. But that was before last night.

I took too long to respond, because suddenly Lydia stood up and started rambling. “It all started when we moved here after my mom died, they appeared as sheets-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Like Scooby Doo? Actual sheet ghosts?” A smile played at both our lips in spite of the seriousness of the moment. “Lyds, I’m not saying to doesn’t sound crazy. But this place is weird, I’m cold constantly and it felt like something was watching me last night.”

Relief flooded her face. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

“Of course I think you’re crazy. You’re friends with me! But if you’re asking if I believe you, I do. Even if I barely believe it myself,” I told her. Ghosts weren’t the only logical solution to what was going on, but I know Lydia wouldn’t lie about something like this. I just had to expand my view of the world to encompass ghosts.

“God Y/n, it means the world to me to hear you say that,” my friend told me with her eyes shining brightly. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to talk to you about this. Adam and Barbara are going to love you!”

“Um who now?” I asked confused. “Are they the ones making it cold and watching me? If so, could you please ask them to stop?”

A new gruff voice behind me came into existence, “Babes! Please tell me you can see me now. Or do I have to impress you even more?”

[parkerparts]

it’s my own desire (it’s my own remorse)

warnings: unhealthy relationship, mentions of violence

Peter Parker is running, running away from his identity, from his past, from his pain, his regrets. He’s running away from love. Then, he runs into Harley Keener, the perfectly intoxicating boy who teaches Peter how to love again.

“And what would you do for the one you loved?”

“Anything,” Peter replies, without hesitation. “I would do anything for you.”

Parkner Halloween Week 2019 Day Five: Apple Picking, Wheelbarrows, “Trust Me.”

Keep Reading or Read on AO3 here.

Two universal truths govern Peter Parker’s world. One: He is in love with Harley Keener. Two: Harley Keener loves him back. These truths are the reason he is alive. These truths are the reason he wants to be alive.

“Let’s go apple picking, Harls. Please?” Peter wraps his body around Harley’s, burrowing into him as if seeking warmth. He never can find it in Harley’s skin, cold as the bitter wind.

Harley looks up from a partially disassembled gun with a groan. “Really, hun? We’re on the run, and you want to go apple picking?”

“It’s your fault we can’t have any fun anymore,” Peter grumbles, pulling away from Harley. “You’re the one who almost got us caught.”

“What did you say?” Harley whips around, gripping Peter’s wrists tightly. Peter just stares back at him with a smirk, eyes narrowed in a challenge. Call him a brat, but he loves making Harley mad, loves when all of his attention was on Peter, bruising though it may be.

Peter leans it until Harley’s blank face filled all of his field of vision. “I said it’s your fault we can’t go apple picking, so now you have to make it up to me by taking me apple picking.”

A smile creeps onto Harley’s face, cold and unforgiving, and it sends delicious chills down Peter’s spine as his spidey-sense goes off. He lives for this feeling. “What happens if I don’t, sugar?”

“I leave.” Peter shrugs off Harley’s grip on his wrists easily with only a hint of his superstrength before walking out of the open garage door. He doesn’t look back. Harley always comes after him. Rule number two.

Only a minute passes before Peter hears Harley’s yell of frustration and the crunch of footsteps against the concrete driveway. A hand grips his shoulder and yanks him gently backwards. Peter falls into Harley’s arms, smiling up at his unamused face. “Get in the car,” Harley growls, but it sounds more like a sigh of resignation.

Peter whoops and sprints back to the garage, leaping into the passenger seat of the two-door convertible they had nabbed from the last place they camped out at. The place was a mansion, and there were at least a dozen other cars in the sprawling garage complex on the land, so Peter felt perfectly justified and taking the second-most expensive car of the lot. They would have taken the most expensive one, but Harley hated white cars. “Where are we going?”

Harley slides into the driver’s seat and revs the engine. “Apple picking.”

Peter’s triumphant laughter rings through the crisp, fall air as they speed through the little village, and soon enough, Harley joins him.

From the moment Peter met Harley, they’ve been running. Running away from the past, from the lies, from the secrets that destroyed them. Peter was running from his identity, from the sudden collision of the personas he had fought so hard to keep separate. Harley was running from death, from the grief that followed and threatened to swallow him whole.

He picked up Peter in a weathered pickup truck, red hot and shinier than a wax apple. “You’re that Parker kid, ain’t you?”

“You know me?” Peter gripped the door handle, ready to leap out if need be.

Harley threw his head back and laughed, and Peter’s heart beat wildly in the few seconds he had his eyes completely off the road. “Do I know you? Stark never shut up about you, especially when you were dead. You’re one of the ones he was able to bring back. Lucky bastard. He got everything he wanted in the end, even death.”

“I don’t think he wanted to die.”

“Everyone wants to die. Most people just don’t acknowledge it.”

Peter turned to face the other boy. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Harley Keener.” He turned to face Peter, sunglasses slipping down to perch at the end of his nose. At the sight of those eyes, as blue as the hottest flame, Peter’s breath caught in his throat, and he was captivated. After several moments, Harley grinned, a wide, face-splitting grinned that showed off every tooth, pearl-white and sharp-edged with a gap between his two front teeth. It was a smile Peter would fall in love with, become obsessed with. “I’m real glad to meet you, darling.”

“Yeah,” Peter gasped, breathless in the face of the allure of Harley Keener. “Yeah, me too.”

Peter perches on top of an apple tree, vigorously shaking it. Harley stands below with a wheelbarrow, gazing up at his laughing lover. The wheelbarrow is overflowing with apples, and they’ve only been in the orchard for ten minutes.

“Do you think we have enough?” With a twirl, Peter leaps down from the tree, landing beside the wheelbarrow in a crouch.

Harley raises an eyebrow. “How many do you think we need? Because it looks like we have enough to feed an elementary school.”

Peter’s eyes light up at the idea, despite Harley’s sarcasm. “That’s brilliant!”

“Is that not what you were gonna do originally? It sure looks like it.”

Peter bends over and begins digging through the wheelbarrow, steadfastly ignoring Harley’s burning gaze against his back. “I’m looking for the perfect apple.”

“Perfect apple for what?”

“I don’t know. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Harley is quiet for a moment, and if Peter didn’t know better he would have thought Harley left him. “What about this one?”

Peter’s head shoots up. Harley stands, inches away from his face, tossing a glittering red apple up in the air. Visually, it’s perfect: there’s no blemishes on its skin, the color is uniform and gorgeous, and its shape is flawlessly round and plump. It glitters in the light of the setting sun, and Peter can’t help but stare, entranced.

“It’s perfect.”

Harley Keener was perfect.

A part of Peter knew that people couldn’t be perfect, especially people as messed up as Harley. At first, Peter wanted to help him, to fix him. But then he fell in love with him.

Harley never drove with his eyes on the road, stole from the rich, burned his own house down, killed a man for killing his sister. Harley was a genius, demanded too much of life, had seen too much death, knew too much about love. Harley taught Peter how to build, how to fix, how to mend the broken things in life, taught Peter how to fall in love again.

There was nothing wrong with that Harley, nothing for Peter to fix. He was just a man driven mad, and he was a man Peter couldn’t help but fall in love with.

“There’s something you can do for me, sweetheart,” Harley whispered as they lay in the back of the pick-up. Peter curled in closer to Harley and tore his gaze away from the stars to look up at him.

Peter curled in closer to Harley and tore his gaze away from the stars to look up at him. “Anything.”

“I need a gun.”

Peter got him a gun. He went out as Spider-Man and stopped an armed robbery in the nearest city, confiscating the guns from the robber and swinging away to meet Harley before the police even showed up the site.

That was the first time Harley kissed him, the cold metal of the loaded gun held tightly in their joined hands, pressed snug against their chests. Peter would never get tired of it, of the thrill of love, the thrill of Harley, intoxicating and alluring and-

Perfect.

Yeah, Peter thought, sighing against cold, dry lips. Everything about Harley was perfect.

If Harley was a fruit, he’d be the apple in his hands. Perfect, dangerously perfect, but intoxicating.

“Where’d you find that?” Peter breathes, trembling hand reaching out to touch the glistening fruit.

Harley throws it up in the air again, catching it and yanking it away from Peter’s outstretched fingers. “Uh-uh. No touching.”

Peter withdraws his fingers with a pout. “Where’d you find that?” he repeats.

Again, Harley ignores his question and keeps his eyes trained on the apple going up and down, landing with a smack in Harley’s hand every time. “I have a question for you.”

Peter tears his eyes away from the gleaming fruit to look at Harley’s face. “Yes?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“Yes.” He has, in fact. Peter doesn’t understand where this is going, but he plays along anyway.

“Would you die for me?”

“Yes.”

“I have a better question. Would you live for me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure about that?” Harley laughs. “Everyone wants to die. Don’t you?”

“I don’t care.” Peter takes a deep breath and starts talking, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think. “I don’t care about living or dying. All I care about is you. Don’t you see, Harley? I love you!”

“And what would you do for the one you loved?”

“Anything,” Peter replies, without hesitation. “I would do anything for you.”

Peter ran away from Harley after two years together. He doesn’t remember why, probably something about morals, about crossing lines, but he does remember that Harley found him after three days.

It was Harley who taught Peter how to ride a motorcycle. The thought came to Peter unbidden as a familiar red pickup pulled up next to him, and he drove faster, trying to get away. Get away from what? He doesn’t remember now. Surely it wasn’t that important.

Peter felt the break before he heard it. His spidey-sense went off, but he was helpless as the sound of metal against metal screamed loudly in his ears. Whoever the thing belonged to hadn’t properly broken it in, and it was falling apart underneath him. All the while, Harley’s truck loomed closer and closer until the motorcycle broke down, and Peter hit the ground, rolling to a stop at the same time as the truck did a scant two meters between the front bumper and Peter’s body.

“Are you insane?” Harley yelled, getting out of the truck and slamming the door. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Where the hell have you been?”

“Trying to get away from you!” Peter screamed back, backing away as Harley approached. It tasted like a lie. If he really wanted to get away he could. Harley was just a human, and Peter was a superhuman, and it would be so easy to escape from Harley if he really wanted to. But he didn’t. Harley knew that too, by the look of the grin spreading across his face.

Harley kept stepping forward. Peter stopped stepping back. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” Peter stammered, whole body screaming at him to run away as Harley advanced.

“What are you running from?”

“I don’t know!” Peter screamed, holding a hand out when Harley was within arm’s reach. “I don’t know!”

“I think I know,” Harley said, obediently coming to a stop. “You’re scared of love.”

“I’m not scared of love. Why would I be scared of love, Harley? I love you.”

Harley took Peter’s outstretched hand in his and pressed a kiss to each fingertip between his words. “You’re scared of heartbreak, then. You’re scared of the pain and the grief and the despair and the feeling that the world is going to end. You are terrified of it because you’ve felt it. How many people do you know have died, sweetie? How many of those deaths did you cause yourself?”

“Too many,” Peter whispered, eyes glazed over and staring at the space past Harley’s ear. “Far too many.”

“You’re scared of me.” Harley laced his fingers with Peter’s and placed his other hand on Peter’s hip, and Peter felt his touch burning, burning cold through his t-shirt to blaze against his skin. “You’re scared of what you see in me. You see yourself, what you would be if you succumbed to all that grief and guilt inside of you. I’m crazy, ain’t I? I’m what they call insane, and you don’t want to end up like me.”

“That’s not true, Harley. I love you.”

“You can fall in love with what you fear, darling. It’s okay.”

The sound of a horn startled both of them. Peter blinked back tears and watched as a car skid and crumpled against the bumper of Harley’s truck. The driver got out and slammed the door, approaching them and cursing. Peter was worn out, stretched thin, and his senses were overloaded. They always were around Harley. He reached out and pulled a gun out of the holster sitting against Harley’s hip.

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Harley warned, eyes trained on Peter’s face. Peter wasn’t watching Harley. He watched the angry driver approach, and when he was within range -

He shot him. The man wasn’t dead, judging by the way he was groaning in pain, but he wouldn’t interfere with Peter and Harley anymore.

Peter turned his attention back to Harley, still clutching the gun. “What were you saying?”

“You,” Harley breathed, and there was a new light in his eyes, an emotion Peter had never seen before. It drew him in. “You are a wonder, Peter Parker.”

With a shaking hand, Peter pointed the gun against Harley’s head. “Let me go.”

“You and I both know that you could overpower me in a second, and you wouldn’t even need a gun to do it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter said loudly. “Let me go. You have this spell or something on me, and I can’t get away from you. You’re in every one of my waking thoughts, in every one of my dreams. I’m scared of you. I hate you. But I want you. Harley, I love you, and I don’t even want to. Let me go.”

Harley began to laugh, a grin plastered on his face, the same grin, the same laugh Peter had fallen in love with. “There is no spell, no curse. You’re delusional.”

“Look at what you’ve done to me!” Peter yelled, pressing the barrel of the gun even harder against Harley’s temple. I’d kill for you, Harley. I’ve hurt people for you. And you say this isn’t a curse?”

“No,” Harley sighed, curling a finger under Peter’s chin. “It’s just love, Peter. I love you.”

“I have done terrible things for you,” Peter said, voice trembling, but sounding more sure of himself than ever, imbued with a dangerous confidence, the heady power of wielding a gun, of holding someone’s life in his hands. “What you would you do for me?”

“Anything,” Harley sang. “I would do anything for you.”

“Anything, hmm?” Harley circles around Peter, whose spidey-sense screams at him, overwhelming him with the familiar fear that Harley brought with him. God, how Peter craves it.

“Anything,” Peter begs, even though he’s not even sure what he’s begging for. “Harley, please.”

Harley comes to a stop in front of him, inches away, and crooks a finger under Peter’s chin, forcing him to look up. “You’re so good.”

“For you,” Peter finishes, breathless. “I’m good for you.”

Harley grins at that, and Peter’s heart beats impossibly harder. He sees a glint of red in his peripheral vision, a glint that causes his spidey-sense to shriek even louder, but Peter is helpless to do anything but watch as Harley holds the apple between their faces, right against Peter’s lips. “Bite.”

Peter takes the apple in his hands, and Harley lets him go, lets Peter stumble back a few inches, captivated by the apple. It’s impossibly, undeniably perfect, and to be that perfect in such an imperfect world must be a sin. “Why?”

“Do you trust me?” Peter’s gaze is drawn away from the apple, and he looks into Harley’s eyes, shaded by the shadows of the trees but shining brighter than they ever have before.

“I do.”

At Harley’s nod, Peter brings the apple to his lips but keeps his eyes trained on Harley’s. His fingers are still, surprisingly void of trembling, as he presses the smooth skin of the fruit against his lips and slowly, ever so slowly, sinks his teeth into it.

Poison, his brain screams at him as his body goes limp and his vision fades. The apple drops from his fingers and thuds against the ground. It’s poisoned.

A familiar sound rouses Peter from the blackness that envelopes him like a warm blanket. It’s the thrum of a piano, chords played in a minor key, lyrics crooned in a haunting voice. It’s the song playing in Harley’s pickup when he first met Peter.

“Dance with me?” Peter whirls around, expecting to find Harley behind him, but he’s not there. Nothing but darkness surrounds him, and the voice echoes all around him, carried on an invisible wind.

Peter steps forward shakily. “Harley?” he calls. There’s no answer. “Harley!”

“I’m right here, sweetie.”

“Where?” Peter cries, spinning in circles until he’s nauseous. “Harley, where are you?”

“Behind you.”

“You’re not. I can’t see you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No! No, Harley. Please, just tell me where you are.” Peter falls to his knees, head spinning, and buries his head in his hands as he cries. “Please, Harley. Please.”

A hand falls on his shoulder, but Peter doesn’t look up, scared that it’s just an illusion, just something in his head. “Peter? Peter, it’s me. Look up.”

Peter has never been able to deny that voice. He looks up and meets Harley’s eyes, burning blue, burning darker than he’s ever seen them before, and Peter is drawn in. He feels like he’s falling, but when he reaches out, Harley isn’t there. It’s just blue, dark blue, flickering lighter with every breath until it’s the color of Harley’s eyes. More specifically the color of Harley’s eyes when Peter does something that pleases him. It’s the color that draws Peter in every time.

“Boo!” Peter flinches but turns around slowly, scared that Harley’s voice is still just an illusion but needing to see him all the same. Harley is actually there, head bowed, hand outstretched for Peter to take. “Will you dance with me now?”

“Since when have you ever wanted to dance with me?” Peter asks, taking Harley’s hand.

Harley yanks him in roughly, placing his other hand on Peter’s waist. He smiles, and a laugh slips out as they begin waltzing to a familiar melody. “Since I first laid eyes on you, darling.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I never thought you’d let me.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet, letting his head fall against Harley’s chest as the other boy led him in the dance. “Do you love me, Harley?”

“Of course I do.”

“Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

Peter feels Harley press a tender kiss to the top of his head, the most affection Harley has ever shown him. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too.” Peter raises his head to look into Harley’s eyes, bright and blue and biting. “Kiss me?”

Harley obliges. He wraps Peter in his arms and presses his lips against Peter’s, and Peter melts into the touch, attaches himself to the feeling of the other boy like a tongue attaches to a frozen metal pole, and he knows it will hurt to peel himself away later, but he doesn’t really want to ever have to peel himself away, so he’ll use the pain as an excuse to never let go.

The world falls away around him. The blue blazes brighter and brighter until it’s blank.

“Peter.” This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He turns around, and there is Harley in a white suit, holding a bouquet of blue roses in his hands.

“Harley,” Peter gasps, like the name is a prayer. He runs toward Harley, who drops the bouquet and sweeps the boy off the ground, up in his arms, and Peter laughs.

When Harley sets Peter down, he doesn’t let go. “My sweet boy. You always come running back to me.”

“Always,” Peter repeats with a wink. Harley smiles. “Harley, I have a question.”

“Anything, darling.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Harley stops gently rocking them from side to side, which Peter hadn’t even realized he was doing.“Do what?”

“Kill me.”

Harley laughs, and it echoes around the white room. “Peter, baby. You’re precious.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I didn’t kill you.”

“What do you mean?” Peter exclaims, shoving Harley away from him. “The apple, it was poisoned.”

“Yes, but it didn’t kill you.”

“Then what is this?” Peter spreads out his arms, gesturing to the space around them. “What is this if it isn’t heaven?”

Harley steps forward, placing his hands on Peter’s hips again. Peter lets him. “It’s just a dream.”

“It doesn’t feel like a dream.”

“But it is.” Harley leans in close, lips hovering millimeters above Peter’s ears. “All you have to do is wake up.”

Peter wakes to the feel of Harley’s lips against his, a pressure like Harley is trying to suck the poison out of Peter’s system. Maybe he is, but it’s not working because Peter’s body is on fire, set ablaze by the poison coursing through his system.

“Harley,” he breathes against the boy’s mouth. “God, I love you.”

Harley pulls away, a wicked grin plastered on his face. His body, pressed against Peter, is even colder now that Peter’s body burns. He welcomes the feeling. “Tell me, Peter. What does it feel like to fall in love?”

“Like this,” Peter gasps, breathless under his lover’s frigid gaze. “It feels like this.”

“Go on.”

“It feels like a breath of winter air in the middle of summer, like a drink of cold water against an empty stomach. It feels like blue fire against my skin, like dry ice against my flesh. It feels like a bed of blue roses, thorns and all. It feels like your laughter, like your smile. It feels like a song in a minor key, like metal crumbling beneath me. It feels like you. All of you, Harley Keener. I’m in love with you.”

As Peter dissolves, atoms swimming in the mixture that is Harley Keener and his poison, he drafts a set of rules.

One: He is in love with Harley Keener. Two: Harley Keener loves him back.

The world may be chaotic, life with Harley may be unpredictable, but as long as these things stand true, then it means he is alive. It means he is okay.

Harley’s cold hand cradling his cheek brings him back to the present. “Are you okay, my love?”

“Yeah.” Peter looks past Harley’s face, hovering above his, to the sky, streaked pink and yellow and purple by the setting sun. His heart hammers against his chest, but when he drags his gaze back to Harley’s eyes, the same silver-blue they’ve always been, Peter calms. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

[hermannsthumb]

Halloween party, cold, and bonfire?

Anonymous said: Bonfire

from autumn fic meme here: 8. Halloween Party + 37. Cold + 23. Bonfire

for this i was thinking that college au might be fun, especially bc ive had this art on the mind for a week....hehe

—————————————————————

“Well, well, well,” a short Godzilla says across the cider bowl from Hermann, his hands—well, claws—on his hips. “What’s a guy like you doing somewhere like this, Gottlieb?”

Hermann freezes, ladle in hand. “I’m sorry,” he says, “do I know you?” Hermann does not generally make a habit of associating with people who attend parties in obnoxious felt Godzilla costumes. Clearly homemade ones, at that. 

The Godzilla struggles with his mask for a few seconds before finally ripping it off with a triumphant crow. And, of course—the red-faced, sweaty, messy-haired boy beneath it is none other than Newton Geiszler, who is exactly the sort of person who would attend a party in an obnoxious felt Godzilla costume, and who Hermann, begrudgingly, associates with, on account of being his assigned lab partner. “Oh,” Hermann says. His mouth twists down automatically. His fingers tighten on the ladle. “Hello, Newton.” He didn’t know Newton would be coming. In fairness—Hermann didn’t know that he himself would be coming, either, until about forty-five minutes ago. 

Newton adjusts his fogged-up glasses and grins. “Seriously, what are you doing here?” he says.

“I was invited,” Hermann says, spooning cider into his cup and determined to keep a level head: most of his interactions with Newton tend to erupt in violent arguments. Usually through no fault of Hermann’s own. Usually. He’d rather that not happen in the home of a complete stranger, and well past midnight, at that. “I don’t know if I can say the same for you—”

“Ha-ha,” Newton says. “That’s not what I—wait, hand me the ladle, don’t be a dick—not what I meant. I thought you hated this kind of shit. Loud music, and people, and socializing—”

Hermann narrows his eyes and takes a sip of his hot cider; immediately, he starts coughing it back up. He expected it to be spiked, but not spiked this much. It tastes as if there’s an entire bottle of butterscotch schnapps in there. There probably is. “That’s strong,” he wheezes.

“It sure it,” Newton says, and grins wider. After a brief struggle with the cider (because, as Hermann imagines, it’s difficult to do anything with the moronic gloves he’s wearing) downs all of his glass and goes back in for another. “I made it myself. Who invited you to a party?”

Apparently the conversation isn’t over yet. “Tendo Choi,” Hermann says, still wheezing, “from, ah, computer science.”

“No shit!” Newton crows. “You know Tendo?” Hermann nods. “We were in a band together, you know, freshman year, with some other guys. And a little bit of junior year. And this past summer.” He coughs. “We had an, uh, hard time sticking together as a group. Musicians, you know, very—temperamental.”

“Mm,” Hermann says, sure it has nothing whatsoever to do with Newton’s personality, nor the quality of the band itself, which Hermann can’t help but assume was very, very low. He’s not surprised of its existence, at least; Newton is the sort who walks around campus with his guitar slung over his back, just waiting for the excuse to whip it out and torture innocent bystanders with half a dozen Violent Femmes covers. “Well, Newton, if that’s all—”

Hermann ducks around the table to make his way to the glass slider. Beyond it lies the expansive backyard, decorated with strings of skeleton garland and paper ghosts from oak tree to oak tree, illuminated only by orange and purple lanterns, and promising a bonfire with significantly fewer people than there are crammed into this basement. Most importantly, it promises freedom: no Newton Geiszler. Hermann will put up with the October chill if it means no Newton Geiszler.

Newton (perpetually unable to take a hint) trails after him anyway. “What’s your costume supposed to be?” he says.

“I’m Alan Turing,” Hermann offers, weakly, because it was a very last minute costume and the only thing he’d been able to think of.

“You’re so lame,” Newton says, “you totally—” and then proceeds to get his tail caught in the slider. He jerks backwards; his drink sloshes to the patio. “Fuck!”

Hermann can’t contain his snort. “King of the Monsters indeed.”

“Yeah, okay, funny,” Newton says. He gives a fruitless wobble. “You’re a regular comedian. Shut up and help me, jackass.”

Still snickering under his breath, Hermann tucks his cane under his arm and gives a great tug on the front of the Godzilla costume. Newton stumbles forward. “Thanks,” he says, and resumes waddling at Hermann’s side, to Hermann’s disappointment. “Anyway—lame. You totally just pulled that out of your closet. I’ve seen you wear that sweater three times this month.”

“You must pay very close attention to me to have noticed that,” Hermann says. “One might even say you’re obsessed with me.”

“As if,” Newton scoffs. “I just can’t help it, you know, everything you wear is just so ugly. Total eyesore. It’s all permanently seared into my retinas. Jesus,” he waddles faster, tail flopping comically behind him, leaves crunching loudly under his giant costume boots, “slow down, will you? I can’t move in this thing.” He huffs out a breath. “Sweating like a bitch, too. It smells like a fucking locker room in here.”

Hermann wrinkles his nose; Newton is so endlessly charming. “Are you going to follow me around all night?” he says.

“I might,” Newton says. “I don’t have any friends—”

“No surprise there.”

“—here. I don’t have any friends here, and you’re better than nothing,” Newton corrects. He sticks his tongue out. “You’re such a jerk, Gottlieb.”

Privately, Hermann wonders why Newton bothered coming to a party he knew none of his friends would attend in the first place, but he supposes it’s hypocritical of him. He doesn’t have any friends here either, after all. He doesn’t even know the host. Tendo Choi invited him—strong-armed him into attending, really, into relaxing for a single night—and yet Hermann hasn’t seen a single perfectly-coiffed hair of his head all night. “Just promise me you won’t be a nuisance,” Hermann says. It’s better than nothing, as Newton said.

Newton is a nuisance. They find a small bench in a deserted corner of the bonfire, and Newton—after a little trouble fitting onto it, with his ridiculous costume tail—talks to Hermann incessantly about every single thought that crosses his mind: where he bought the cider, how much he hates the music blasting through the speakers in the house, how long it took to make his costume, the weather, whether or not Hermann has Halloween plans. “I kinda miss trick-or-treating,” Newton says. “Why is it so weird for adults to do it, anyway? It’s free candy. You don’t just stop liking candy once you finish puberty.”

“Mm,” Hermann says.

“I bet if I wore this everyone would think I’m a kid,” Newton says. “I could get as much free candy as I wanted. One of my neighbors used to actually give out toothbrushes when I was, like, twelve, can you believe it? I thought that only happened in dumb books. I don’t know why he did it, that shit was probably way more expensive than a bag of fucking candy corn. He wasn’t even a dentist.”

“Mm,” Hermann says again. The loud snap of one of the logs in the bonfire finally cracking in half; a chilly breeze rustles the red-orange-yellow leaves of the oak trees, the garland, the ends of Hermann’s hair, and, instinctively, Hermann shrinks in on himself with a shiver. He wishes he hadn’t forgone his warm parka for the sake of his costume.

Newton’s eyebrows knit together with concern. “Are you okay?” he says.

“Yes,” Hermann says. He does up the two buttons of his blazer and wraps his hands around his cup of cider, which, though well beyond lukewarm, is managing to give off just a bit of heat. Enough to keep Hermann’s fingers from stiffening up. “Er—just cold.”

“I have a sweatshirt inside, if you wanna borrow—”

“No,” Hermann says quickly. “It’s fine. Really.” 

Newton stares at him. Then, without warning, he’s suddenly closing the wide gap between them and flinging an arm (soft, thanks to his fuzzy costume, warm, strong) around Hermann’s shoulders. Hermann’s shivering stops at once; his ears go hot; his body goes rigid. “Newton,” he stammers. “You—ah—you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” Newton says. His breath smells like apple cider, the schnapps he spiked it with, candy he undoubtedly grabbed in handfuls from the cheap plastic pumpkin head on the buffet table. This close, even in the low flicker of the fire, Hermann can see that his nose and cheeks are dusted with freckles he’s never noticed before. (He’s never been this close to Newton before.) “And just—take that stick out of your ass a little. I don’t have cooties.”

There’d been a small bubble of warmth building in Hermann’s chest, just below his sternum, threatening to rise and burst from Hermann’s mouth in the form of something mortifying like I only pretend to hate you because I’m very, very fond of you, but Newton manages to successfully squash it and grind it under his heel into the dirt with that single jab. Hermann scowls. “And I don’t have a stick up my arse,” he snaps.

“Arse,” Newton parrots back in the worst faux-posh English accent Hermann has ever heard. “You know that’s the least sexy word ever, right?”

“I’m not trying to be sexy.”

“Oh, and you’re succeeding,” Newton says, “with flying colors.”

“I can’t stand you,” Hermann growls, and then he kisses Newton.

He does it mostly to shut Newton up—and, yes, he’s been gazing at those soft lips all night and wondering what it would be like, because Newton can’t seem to stop biting and licking them every bloody second, yes, he’s been wanting to take Newton’s smug, gorgeous little face in his hands and knock him down a peg since the very first lab they had to work together—but after Newton’s muffled exclamation of surprise becomes a very enthusiastic hum, after his mouth parts open eagerly, Hermann keeps going. He can taste the cider, the candy. He can feel Newton’s fingers sliding through his hair—

Newton’s claws sliding through his hair. “Newton,” Hermann says, making a face as he pulls away. “Are you still wearing your gloves?”

“Oops,” Newton says, dazed, wide-eyed, glasses dangling off his nose. “Am I?” He is: he looks between his hands, just as dazed, as if he’s forgotten that he’s wearing a costume and doesn’t typically have large green monster paws, and then he breaks out into giggles. “I am. Wow. Sorry. I—you kissed me!”

“I did,” Hermann says. He plucks at one of the gloves. “Now take these off. I don’t want you clawing my scalp up.” They’re truthfully nowhere near sharp enough to, but Hermann can’t say he enjoys the sensation of them regardless. Newton has strong hands with strong fingers he’d much rather feel.

“What,” Newton says, and grins and waggles the claws of one hand, “you don’t want to pretend you’re macking on some sexy monster?”

"Newton,” Hermann says, “if you want to ever kiss me again, you will take those damned things off now.”

“Fine. Grumpy.”

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎾 Announcement; Kunimitsu Tezuka (Sportember #009)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, Friendship, College AU

Word Count: 3,960

Pairing: Reader x Tezuka

World: Prince of Tennis

Prompt: Announcement

Sport: Tennis

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The ticking of the clock echoed in the quiet dorm room, distracting you from your studies. Not that you had been able to concentrate anyway. It’s been almost an hour and you still haven’t gotten through the first paragraph of your essay but, thankfully, you still had a few days before it was all said and done.

You flicked your pen absentmindedly, eyes on the dark screen of your phone. It was starting to get late and your boyfriend still hadn’t called you as he did every night. You understood, of course, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still miss him. Hearing his voice before bed had become a staple for you and on the rare occasions that he was too busy to call, you found it harder to sleep.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was a tennis player, drafted to the German national team when he was in his third year of middle school. He’s returned to his home in Japan many times over the course of the past three and a half years and, during one of these trips, you were able to meet him. At the time, you were in your third year of high school and your friend, Fuji Shuusuke, forced you to join him at a Halloween party hosted by his friend, Atobe Keigo. The party was to celebrate Tezuka’s return and the fact that he would be staying for three months.

Fuji was the one to introduce you, being friends with the both of you.

For you, it was love at first sight. Despite the monotone voice and expression he had kept up without fail, he was still polite and kind, his deep voice soothing to you. In the sea of people that had been at the party, everyone’s face was a blur to you but his. You remembered every detail, from the green flecks within his brown eyes to the way his brown hair was parted. He was a gorgeous man.

For Tezuka, he never had any interest in dating, focused only on tennis and his friends, but when his eyes first landed on you, he suddenly wondered if you were single and what it would be like to date you. So, when he noticed you sneaking out into the back garden to get some air, he didn’t hesitate to join you. The two of you spent the rest of the night just enjoying each other’s company, talking about everything under the sun. When it was time to part, he admitted that he wanted to see you again and, from there, the two of you started to date.

Even now, nearly three years later, both of you are still so in love with one another, even being more than five thousand miles apart. You just wanted to hurry up and finish college so you could move to Germany in order to be with him, but that seemed so far into the future.

You glanced at the time on your phone. ‘It’s nearly ten-thirty and I have a class at eight. The professor is a real stickler for being on time, too. I should really get some sleep…’ You closed your notebook, packing it into your school bag along with everything else you’d need for class so you wouldn’t have to rush to gather your things come morning time. You turned the light off, crawling under the covers before pulling up the Happy Color app on your phone.

It was the best way you’ve found to relax and destress before attempting to sleep. It was almost like magic how easily the app could help release the day’s tension. Plus, there are achievements for you to work toward, which enhanced the experience for you.

Your eyes were beginning to droop, so you decided to close the app, reaching for the charging cable when the phone started to ring, showing off the picture of your boyfriend looking at the sunset, a picture that you had personally taken the last time he was at home. You did your best to shake off your sleepiness, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” came Tezuka’s deep voice, slightly strained from his practice. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I couldn’t get away from practice.”

You smiled, bringing one of the pillows to your chest. “It’s okay, I figured it was something like that. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”

“I promise you, I’m not.”

“You’re staying hydrated, right? And getting plenty of sleep?”

He chuckled softly, a sound he reserved only for you. “I’m taking care of myself, love. What about you? How is school going?”

“Mm, I’m struggling with my literature essay and I have a math test tomorrow that I’m not really looking forward to,” you sighed heavily. “I’m keeping up, though.”

“Do your best,” he encouraged gently. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t let your guard down.”

You laughed at his typical line of advice, but it came out as more of a tired puff of air. “I’ll make you proud, Mitsu~”

“I always feel proud of you, Y/N,” he responded with earnest, making warmth settle within your chest. “You should get some rest. Text me when you wake up.”

“Mkay,” you stifled a yawn. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

As soon as the call ended, you fell into dreamland with a smile on your fae, dreaming of the man that you loved so dearly.

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“Y/N~”

You paused, turning around to give your best friend a smile. “Hey, Fuji! Do you wanna join me for lunch?”

“I’d love to!” He tilted his head to the smile, giving you his infamous closed-eye smile as he fell into step beside you. “How did your test go?”

“Ugh, the test.” Your nose wrinkled as if smelling something foul. “If by some miracle I manage to pass, it’ll be just under the wire.”

“I’m sure you did just fine.”

“I hope so. If I fail, Mitsu’s going to be so disappointed in me, ugh.” You frowned, carefully pushing the glass door of the cafe open, hearing the little bell above jingling as you held the door open for him.

Fuji chuckled in response. “He’s not capable of being disappointed in you. He loves you too much.”

The comment brought a goofy smile to your face as the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, ordering some boba tea and a couple of sandwiches. The sky outside was slowly beginning to darken as grey clouds rolled in, thunder rumbling in the distance as if chasing them down.

“By the way, Atobe is throwing a small get together on Saturday,” Fuji commented before taking a sip of his tea. “He asked me to invite you.”

“Nothing that man does is small.” You rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll skip out this time. Staying at the dorm and binge watching some TubeYou videos sounds a lot more pleasant.”

He frowned, brow furrowing in thought, but you were too focused on your sandwich to notice the change. Fuji Shuusuke wasn’t considered a genius for nothing, however, and a plan quickly formed within his mind. “I could really use the help, though.”

“Eh?” You glanced up, meeting his cerulean eyes, which he rarely opened, so you knew whatever he was about to tell you had to be quite serious. “Help with what?”

“Well, it seems I’ve recently acquired a stalker. She won’t take no for an answer no matter how many times I say it, but she seems to be intimidated by you.” He lied smoothly, offering you a fake, worried expression.

“Intimidated by me? Really?” You couldn’t help but snort at the ridiculous notion that anyone could be afraid of. You thought it was more believable for a hamster to be intimidating than yourself! And it made sense because you didn’t like violence, preferring to resort to kindness above all else and try to talk through any problems you had. You were also a firm believer of walking away when people couldn’t be reasoned with.

“She never comes around when I’m with you.”

You chewed on your lip thoughtfully before sighing in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go with you. You’re lucky I love you so much, Fuji.”

The brunette laughed, his eyes sliding closed once more. “I love you too~”

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The phone buzzed on the bed and you stepped out of the bathroom to check it. It was a message from Fuji, letting you know that he was waiting outside of the dorms. You quickly messaged back that you were on the way before slipping the phone into your pocket and grabbing your keys. The first thing you noticed upon exiting the building was how dark it was.

It was only just now noon, but the grey clouds covering the sky made it appear to be around eight at night. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roaring loudly seconds after each strike, and the rain was falling in steady sheets to the earth. To you, it was a beautiful sight, though you understood most people felt quite melancholy when it rained.

Fuji held out the umbrella so that it covered both of you, sending you a smile. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as can be,” you answered, forcing a smile. While the current weather did lift your spirits a bit, you were still feeling quite sad. You missed Tezuka so much that it was starting to physically hurt you, plus you were stressing out because you knew that you had done poorly on the math test. The last thing you wanted was to be surrounded by a mansion full of people you didn’t even know, constantly being checked on by waiters and butlers.

It wasn’t your lifestyle, but you wanted to support Fuji if you could, just as he had always done for you.

Stepping through the gate that surrounded the campus, you noticed the sleek black limo sitting down the street and you were unable to hold back the groan of annoyance. “Fuji~”

The brunette laughed, patting your back. “Atobe insisted because of the weather.”

‘Of course he did,’ you held back your sigh, following him to the vehicle. The driver jumped out as soon as you got close so he could pull the back door open for you, as if you couldn’t do so yourself. ‘He doesn’t even care that he’s getting wet. What if he gets sick? I feel bad for him, but… at least he gets paid well.’

The man sent you a kind smile as you slid into the back, taking the umbrella from Fuji so he could slide in beside you. He shook the umbrella before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

Silence settled over the vehicle as it started forward, the tinted windows streaking as the window forced the drops of rain to slide at an angle across the glass. The closer you got to the Atobe manor, the more uncomfortable you felt, but you did your best not to let that show on your face because you didn’t feel like being hounded all night about what was bothering you.

When the limo finally arrived, you stuck by Fuji’s side for most of the night, speaking only when spoken to directly, which was more than you were currently comfortable with. It’s not that you were an introverted person or anything – normally, you had no problems with social interaction, but for some reason, you were just feeling so… down and you wanted to be left alone.

The only person you wanted to talk to right now was more than five thousand miles away.

You waited patiently for Fuji to finish his conversation with one of his old schoolmates before you called out his name to grab his attention. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Be right back.”

He nodded before turning back to the other male, laughing about some tennis match they had years ago.

You honestly felt pretty guilty about lying to him, but if you didn’t get a chance to breathe soon, you felt like you were going to go insane. While the hallway leading to the bathroom still held a few party-goers, it was a drastic down-size from the large ballroom that was so packed with people that it was hard to move.

Glancing around the hall, you were thankful that no one was paying you any mind, and you slipped through the side door that led out into the massive garden behind the manor. Rain still felt softly from the sky, but the thunder and lightning had already moved on, leaving only the soft pitter-patter against the walkway.

You stuck to the stone path, following it towards the very back of the property where a large hedge maze sat. With a pause, you glanced over your shoulder, but the garden was empty because of the rain, so you continued into the maze, following that familiar path that led straight to a dead end. At least, that’s how it appeared to most, but you knew better.

With a bit of prodding, a small crack in the hedge appeared, allowing you to slip into a small area hidden by the towering bushes. A willow tree sat in the center of the clearing, probably older than the manor itself, its branches long and gnarled, covered with stringy moss that formed a sort of blanket around the area.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the peace and quiet around you. The grass at the base of the tree was damp, but not soaking wet thanks to the moss, so you plopped down with your back against the trunk. You checked your phone, but Tezuka still hadn’t responded to your message, which only made your mood drop further. With a sigh, you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your head atop them, eyes sliding closed.

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Fuji frowned as he scanned the ballroom, looking for any sign of you. You should have been back by now, but you were nowhere in sight. He certainly hadn’t missed your reluctance to join him tonight, either, and now he was starting to feel worried. Surely you wouldn’t have left the manor without telling him.

Atobe weaved his way through the crown toward the brunette, his phone held within his hand and a frown upon his lips. “Tezuka’s plane was delayed. It’ll be another twenty minutes before we can get him here!”

“I think Y/N decided to ditch the party,” Fuji added. “They really didn’t want to be here, to begin with.”

“You were’t supposed to let them out of your sight!” Atobe huffed in annoyance, running a hand through his purple locks. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, but it seemed as if everything that could go wrong was.

“Hm, they said they were going to the bathroom. We may be best friends, but I doubt they would appreciate me joining them,” he chuckled.

Atobe quickly dialed a number on his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Michael, we have a problem. Our guest of honor is in the wind. Find them immediately!”

“Y/N isn’t going to be happy about this~” The brunette quipped, earning a glare from the host.

“I promised Tezuka that tonight would be perfect and it will be, no matter the cost!” And the purple-haired male turned on his heel, heading farther into the manor as he barked orders into his phone.

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Tezuka stepped out of the limo, readjusting his suit as he looked up at Atobe manor, feeling very jet lagged and a bit nervous, not that his monotone expression betrayed this. He wasn’t entirely sure how this night had even come to be. He had simply mentioned returning home to surprise you, but Atobe had run with it, insisting on making a huge deal out of it. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to mention proposing to you? It had been a fleeting comment that he hadn’t even meant to speak aloud, but Atobe had latched onto it with a vice-grip, refusing to let go.

Fuji was waiting outside the large double doors with a warm smile upon his lips, cerulean eyes shimmering under the lights of the porch. “Welcome home, Tezuka.”

“Thank you,” he nodded in reply. “Where is Y/N?”

“About that -”

The doors suddenly swung open and Atobe strode out with a female butler at his side, his usual smirk upon his lips, but Tezuka could tell that something wasn’t right. “Don’t worry, Tezuka. I’ve gone ahead and purchased the airline and had the pilot fired for his lack of professionalism.”

“That wasn’t necessary,” Tezuka resisted the strong urge to sigh, used to the man’s actions after so many years. His dark eyes scanned the crowd through the open doors, but he saw no sign of the one person he craved the most. “Where is Y/N?”

Atobe exchanged a look with the genius, which did little to boost Tezuka’s confidence. Clearing his throat, the host held his arm out toward the entryway. “Fuji will go get them for you. Come along, let’s get you a drink and you can get changed out of that cheap suit. I’ve had one made for you, the very best that money can buy!”

But Tezuka didn’t budge, his eyes shifting between the two men. His annoyance levels were quickly rising, along with his worry for you. Had something happened to you? The thought had his heart tripping over itself within his chest and he folded his arms, fixing his narrowed eyes on the brunette. “The truth, Fuji.”

Although Atobe shot him a warning look, the brunette paid it no mind, his cerulean eyes locking with hazel. “They didn’t want to be here so they ditched me. We haven’t been able to find them.”

Tezuka’s eyes widened a fraction behind his glasses and, without a word, he brushed past the two men, determined to find you himself.

Atobe followed him closely, his hands swiping through the air as if trying to shoo away a fly. “My men have already checked the cameras. They were last seen going out of the side door, but the rain short circuited the cameras outside. They were supposed to be waterproof! I’m already going through the process or purchasing the company so that I can fire their CEO and the imbeciles that installed them here.”

Tezuka paused at this new information, realizing instantly where you had gone, but he certainly didn’t plan on telling the other male that. Instead, he turned toward him, his voice firm. “Call your men back. Y/N won’t come out for them.

Atobe’s eye twitched. “There isn’t any place they can hide from -”

“Atobe,” his eyes narrowed, hands fisting lightly at his sides. He was already tired of his friend’s over the top nature.

“Fine,” the host huffed in annoyance before storming off, pressing his phone back to his ear.

Tezuka then headed for the garden door, following the left path around the manor to the back garden where the hedge maze sat. It had been such a long time since he had last visited the small area hidden within the maze, but he remembered the path to it like it just yesterday.

He remembered the feeling of your hand in his as you attempted to find your way to the opposite side of the maze only to find a dead end. As if you were meant to find it, you had spied a small gap in the hedge when you went to turn around.

He remembered asking you what you were doing, advising you to be careful of the sharp branches as you tried to part them. He remembered how your face had lit up when you stepped through the opening, finding the hidden area that was cut off from the rest of the garden. You had fallen in love with it the moment you saw it, he knew, and he was positive that was where you had escaped to.

By now, the rain had come to a stop, leaving behind puddles and damp grass as a reminder that it had been there, shimmering under the bright lights that were scattered across the garden.

When he finally stepped through the small gap in the hedge, his eyes immediately fell upon you, curled up against the trunk of the tree as you slept, phone held tightly over your heart. Waiting for his reply, he knew. The thought made him smile softly as he kneeled in the grass beside you, feeling the wetness seeping through the cloth, but he didn’t mind.

His hand gently rested upon your shoulder. “Y/N, wake up.”

You stirred after a moment, blinking as the fog of sleep slowly lifted off of you and then your eyes snapped to his, wide with disbelief. Without a moment of hesitation, you threw yourself at him, knocking him off balance and onto his back with you on top, clinging to his neck as if he would disappear if you loosened your grip even a hair.

“Kunimitsu,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the back of his neck and the collar of his suit jacket. “I missed you so much.”

He smiled, bringing his arms around your body, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I missed you, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming back?” You frowned into his neck, playing with the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he spoke softly, wondering if he should foil Atobe’s elaborate plans. Ever so gently, he coaxed you into releasing him and you pulled back just enough to see his face. He didn’t miss how your hands clutched at his shirt, as if afraid that this was some dream you didn’t want to wake up from. “The plan was to announce my return at the party.”

You deadpanned as the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together within your mind and you groaned. “That damn Fuji, he totally knew! And he made up that stalker story to lure me here.”

Tezuka’s eyes closed as he held back an exasperated sigh, not even wanting to know what this stalker story was about. “I apologize. I should have known better than to trust them with something so important.”

“Important?” You tilted your head at the comment. He had returned home dozens of times before since going pro, but Atobe had only thrown a party for him once, and even then, it was no comparison to the gathering tonight. So what made this time to special? You didn’t understand.

“Because,” he chuckled, reaching into his jacket so he could produce the ring that his grandmother had given him for this very occasion. “I returned home to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“You -” your breath caught in your throat as you looked at the ring being held between his fingers. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen and, despite how hard you tried, no words would pass your lips. This was what you had dreamed of so many times before, spending the rest of your life with this man, this man that you would destroy the world for if he so desired.

“Y/N,” his eyes met yours, full of love and warmth. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You managed to squeak out, hand shaking as he slid the ring onto your finger before setting his palm against yours, fingers lacing together. “I love you so much, Kunimitsu, I – I -”

“I know,” he responded softly, his thumb gently brushing away your tears before bringing you into a deep kiss – a silent promise atop the declaration of love.

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