#I swear he looked so wonky once I put color on

[finnleyandsillys]

I drew @lexumpysfunland ‘s boy Walter-

↓Their drawing

As a sorta thanks for drawing Norvin :3 I know it's not that great and Ira a bit late but I've been art blocked lately and decided to test my digital skills after a month

Sorry if it's a bit bad but I hope you like it :D

[yellowsuitcase]

Betwixt; Draco Malfoy: Chapter 2 - The Prince

A/N: Getting settled! Enjoy

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

Credits:  @10amnoodles​ Check her out! her artwork is incredible and this series wouldn’t be happening without her :)

Bewtixt Masterlist

“Here is where you will be staying indefinitely. You have an hour before your etiquette lessons start. They will be held in the library on the first floor at exactly 10 o’clock. Please do get settled; your uniforms are hanging in your wardrobe. You are expected to wear them every day unless told otherwise,” Olive opened the door. I gave her my thanks for showing me around, and she took her leave. Once she was gone, I stepped into my new room. 

It was better than I’d expected, honestly. I had assumed I’d receive a bed and wardrobe, and while the room did have those essentials, it certainly wasn’t limited to them. There was a dark wooden desk in the right corner; a matching wardrobe leaned against the wall next to it. The room was lit up by two glass doors leading to a balcony. I instinctively took a step towards them and found myself standing on a cream-colored rug. It was perfectly circular and looked very expensive. I hastily shuffled off of it, not wanting my dirty shoes to taint its color. 

I proceeded to the balcony. There were two pots of blue flowers in each corner, as well as a bench sat in between both doors. Despite my aching feet, I found myself at the railing, clutching it firmly. I ignored the discomfort of the chilly autumn air nipped at my skin. From where I stood, I could see rooftops and people moving through the city, albeit they did look like dots from this height. I tried to look past the walls, tried to see home. Of course, all I could see were fuzzy blobs vaguely resembling trees. I couldn’t help but think of Jasper. God, I hope he’s okay. I wonder if he’ll be upset with me when I come back.

Reluctantly, I shoved Jasper from my mind and retreated into my bedroom, kicking off my shoes as I sauntered over to my wardrobe. Upon first glance, I could tell it was handcrafted. However, it had undeniably seen better days. The wood was chipped in numerous places, and one of the knobs was dangerously loose. I gingerly opened its doors to reveal several white dresses. I pulled one out and held it up to my chest; it looked as if it’d fit me well. I stood in front of the vanity adjacent to the wardrobe to examine it further. The dress was quite simple, just a flowy frock paired with a dark blue corset and green apron. 

I made sure my door was locked and got undressed. I then slipped into the corset and attempted to tie it on my own. I thought I had done quite well, but when I examined myself in the mirror, my eyes widened at the sight. The ribbons were twisted, wonky, and overall atrocious, barely acceptable. Yet, it was the best I could manage. I had never been a fan of the restricting garment. 

I went back to the wardrobe to hang up Ginny’s dress when I was dressed. Upon getting close to the closet, my eye caught sight of a loose panel in the back of it. Quickly, I pushed the dresses to the side to get a better look. “Huh,” I mused aloud. The board had a slight bend in the corner of it as though it had been forcefully yanked from its place on more than one occasion. Curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out my fingers and grasped the corner, testing the waters, seeing how much it would give. Surprisingly, it resisted my gentle tug. Although this should’ve deterred me, I was too interested now. I planted my foot firmly in front of me, bent my knees, and yanked on the panel. It remained stuck. I tried again; this time, it gave way so easily that I toppled over onto my back with a loud thud.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath, examining the board in my hand. Then I looked up from the ground; my jaw dropped to the floor when I saw it. Behind the panel was a tight crawl space. I hastily got to my feet and leaned my face towards it. Cold air fanned over my face, carrying the smell of dirt and dust particles with it. I reeled back, coughing violently. “What on Earth…” 

It looked as if the channel had no end. It was fully dark, but my room's light highlighted all the numerous cobwebs covering the walls. Hesitantly, I stuck my hand inside it, feeling the rough stone walls as I did. Where could this possibly lead? Surely, it’s not a secret passageway. There’s no way Ron was right... Fuck, what if he was? I pulled my head out of the wardrobe and scanned my room for a clock, locating one on my bedside table. I picked it up and looked at the time: 9:30. My eyes drifted back to the wardrobe, then to the forgotten panel on the floor. Fuck it. I hiked up my dress and clambered into the closet. Yet, once I got inside, my feet hesitated as I faced the dark abyss. 

My heart pounded in my chest. This could lead anywhere. If I was lucky, it could lead home. Yet, I had no way of knowing how long it was, whether or not it was safe, if I’d be able to turn back. Tick, tick, tick. The unmistakable sound of time passing reminded me I had a mere thirty minutes to spare. I decided to go through with my decision, putting my head down and crawling into the hole. It was only when I got my entire body inside that I realized how truly tiny it was. The floor of it felt unpleasant against my exposed elbows, and I could feel fear beginning to set it, but I was in too deep now; I had to keep going.

I trudged forward and, at some points, dragged my body through the crawlspace. It wasn’t getting any brighter, and the cobwebs were only getting thicker. Nevertheless, I kept going until my hand reached forward, only to find that the floor had, inexplicably, ended. My heart stopped, and I quickly curled my toes and pulled my body backward, away from the edge. Once I had calmed my pulse, I picked my hand up and felt around. My fingers found the ledge, as well as a wall beneath it. Wondering if there was anything else, I extended my arm downwards. As I did this, my hand brushed up against something firm. Hastily, I curled my fingers around it. It seemed to be a wooden pole of sorts. Upon further exploration, I discovered I was touching a ladder. Excitement stirred within me, and I reached upwards, trying to find the ceiling. I waved it around wildly in the dark; I couldn’t feel anything but air. 

Time was still ticking, so I extended my arm backward and latched my fingers around the edge of the crawlspace’s ceiling. Then, with wobbly legs, I got to my feet and stood up. “Okay,” I breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, I turned myself around and lowered my right foot. It found the first rung of the ladder, then my left found the second. I climbed down it until my feet met the floor. An echo sounded when they did, and I whipped my body around, startled. I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything, but the scent of mildew and mud was unmistakable. However, my curiosity was only growing, and after a few moments of standing with my back against the wall, it overpowered my fear. Tentatively, I stepped forwards and stuck out my hands. 

As I moved them around, my left pinky finger came in contact with something sturdy; another wall. I ran my hand up, down, and across it in every way I could manage. Just as I was going to try the opposite wall, my hand hit something cold. I yanked away with a gasp but then reached out again; this time, I felt something smooth. As I ran my fingers up, I felt little bumps and then a rough stick. I pinched my fingers onto it and felt some sort of crust smear onto them. Puzzled, I brought my hand to my nose and sniffed. Ash. It smelled of ash. This was a candlestick, I realized. My heart leaped; this meant I could return with a flint striker to light the tunnel. That’s just what I’d do, I’d return, but at that moment, I knew I had very little time left. I went to the ladder and crawled back through the hole, this time with light shining from the end of it.

Once in my bedroom, I picked up the panel and jammed it back into place. Then I pulled the dresses over it to hide it and shut the doors of my wardrobe, letting my hands rest upon it as I caught my breath. So many emotions were running through me, confusion, exhilaration, shock, but then my eyes found the clock. 9:50. 

“Shit!” I cursed as I started for the door. However, as I was taking my leave, I caught sight of my reflection in the vanity mirror. It showed a dirty woman, her hair covered in spiderwebs, definitely not someone who could roam the castle halls. Frantically, I rushed back to the closet and took out a new dress. There was no way I could show up to lessons looking like how I did. As fast as I could without tearing it, I disrobed my soiled uniform and tossed it into the basket beside the wardrobe. I then donned the new, clean dress and jerked open my vanity drawer. I spotted a hairbrush and frantically ran it through my tangled hair, ridding it of any debris. Once it was clean, I twirled it into a bun and pinned it. 

After a final once-over in the mirror, I deemed my appearance acceptable, slipped on my shoes, and fled my room. Since Olive had already given me a tour of the castle, I knew the library was located at the back of the palace. My feet carried me down the hallway and down the staircase. I was nearly running, terrified of being late. Upon turning a left corner, my body ran into something firm. “Oh!” I yelped. 

“Watch where you’re going,” a familiar voice hissed. I looked up to find the prince glaring down at me, a scowl etched upon his face.

“I apologize, Your Highness. It won’t happen again,” I told him while bowing my head. 

“It better not,” he spat. I nodded curtly and took a step forwards, aiming to walk around him and continue down the hall. As I was passing him, a hand abruptly and firmly grabbed my wrist. Without hesitating, I wrenched myself from his grasp and took several steps backward, my heart speeding up. Draco stared at me bewilderedly, his hand still hanging in the air. Obviously, he was wondering why I’d reacted in such a way. His eyes were narrowed, but even from the distance I had put between us, I could see the confusion in them. Curiously enough, despite emotion being at the forefront, the look of vacancy from that morning was still there, buried beneath it all. 

Before I was able to properly calm down and further study him, he snapped out of it, lowering his arm and clearing his throat. “When you’re done with your training, stop by my study. We have things to discuss,” he instructed me. I nodded, watching as he side-stepped away from me and continued on his path, wherever it may be to. As my heart began to slow down, my eyes drifted to a nearby clock. 9:58. “Motherfucker!” I whisper-yelled, then broke into a sprint that carried me all the way to the library doors.

When I entered, a tall, grey-haired woman peered at me through her oval-shaped glasses. I swiftly straightened my posture, suddenly aware of my disheveled appearance. She carried herself with elegance and maturity; I could practically feel her judgment from where I stood. 

“Y/N, I presume?” I nodded. “Next time, arrive early. You will address me as Lady McGonagall, understood?” she asked. Her voice was high pitched and steady. This woman wasn’t one to fool with. 

“Yes, Lady McGonagall,” I replied. A smile formed on her lips.

“Excellent, let’s get started.”

--------

I closed my door behind me, finally inside my room. Exhausted, I let myself sink to the floor. Mother of God, had my first lesson been rigorous. McGonagall had high expectations, to say the least. She berated me the entire class.

“Spine straight, chin up, shoulders back.” I must have heard that phrase nearly twenty times. When I made the decision to try for this position, I had no idea it would be this exhausting. I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother had gone through the same thing. She hadn’t worked for a member of the Royal Family, of course, but being a maid for Lord and Lady Greengrass surely meant she had to learn proper etiquette. If only she could see me now. What would she say? What would she think? I like to think she’d be proud of me for getting off my ass. The thought of it made me laugh. 

I picked myself up and walked over to the balcony. I knew this would quickly become my favorite spot. I knew Jasper would love it. The thought of him made my heart squeeze. I’d only been gone eight hours and I missed him terribly. However, I suppose it made sense that I was feeling this way; I’d never been gone from him this long. Releasing a sigh, I rested my head on my arms that were propped up on the railing. I can’t be thinking like this. I’m here for a reason; I’m here for Jasper. 

Reluctantly, I went back inside and began cleaning myself up in my mirror. I already stopped by the kitchen after my lesson to get a small snack, so the only things left on my agenda was my meeting with the prince and dinner. McGonagall told me I’m on waitress duty for tonight’s dinner. This meant I’d be one of two servants present in the dining room. I’d only be able to eat once the Royal Family was finished.

I deemed myself presentable and once again headed out of my room. The North Wing of the castle housed all the family’s private quarters, so I made my way there. I was unsure of where exactly Draco’s study may be, but I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

When I reached the correct corridor, I slowed my pace, examining each door as I went. Some had signs hanging over them, but others remained unmarked. None were open. Well, I’m not going to find it by standing here, I thought. I went down the hallway, knocking on every door and trying the handle. One after the other, locked, locked, locked. My hand was hovering over the final door when I was startled by a soft “ahem.”

I whipped my head to the left to find Draco standing in the middle of the corridor. The look on his face made my stomach churn; he didn’t look pleased. He strutted towards me, fists clenched and chest puffed out. His stance reminded me of Jasper when he was trying not to throw a fit. Was the prince about to have one?

“Rule number one, don’t attempt to get into rooms you haven’t specifically been instructed to enter,” he spat as he reached for the doorknob in front of me. The door swung open easily, and he gestured for me to go inside.

“But, Your Highness, you told me to go to your study, how was I supposed to-” He held up his hand, silencing me. 

“Go inside, don’t make me repeat myself,” he ordered. I did as he asked and stepped into his study. The curtains were drawn shut, making the room extremely dark. I watched Draco walk over to a desk, presumably his, and open one of the drawers. He pulled out an object. I couldn’t quite make out what it was. It made a clinking noise as he held it in his hand. The light from the hallway illuminated the room just enough for me to see Draco approach a wall-mounted candle holder, and sparks emerge from his hands. The tinder took flame, and from its light, I could see the object in his hands were actually two—a flint striker paired with a piece of steel. 

He used the tinder to light the candle, then used that to light the others until every last one was lit. The study was now easier to examine. A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room. To the left of it were green sofas and tall bookshelves, packed to the brim with various novels. To the right, a round table surrounded by dark green armchairs. A vase of white, wilting flowers sat in the center of it. It seemed as though Draco had noticed me staring at them, my feet subconsciously drawing me nearer to them.

“That’ll be a job of yours, replacing those flowers. They’re appealing at every stage of their short life, but the stench of rotting sweet pea is not one I find to be very pleasant.”

I turned my body towards him. He was standing by his desk, hand resting on the edge of it. Neither of us said a word; we simply looked at one another. He was trying to figure me out. I was doing the same. Suddenly, he seemed to come to his senses and broke eye contact.

“Shall we sit? Perhaps you should grab parchment and a quill? To take notes of what will be expected of you,” he suggested, placing the flint, steel, and tinder back into its case on his desk and reaching for a piece of parchment. My hands found each other behind my back, and I walked right past his desk and straight towards the sofas. I could feel his eyes on me as I took a seat.

“I’ll remember, Your Highness,” I told him, my voice soft. He raised an eyebrow, doubting me.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should just-”

“I said, I’ll remember.” My words seemed to anger Draco, but he said nothing. Instead, he took a seat on the emerald couch across from me, his eyes still searching. I wondered what they were hoping to find. If it was obedience, submission, he wouldn’t find it in me. Yet, I think he understood that when we met. I think it’s why he chose me.

“Very well. I assume Lady McGonagall has already informed you of many of your duties. Such as weekly tidying of my bedroom-”

“Your study, the kitchens, the guest rooms, the sitting rooms…” I trailed off as I saw Draco give me an unamused look. Nevertheless, he nodded and cleared his throat.

“It seems you do remember well. Good, so you know your chores. Now I can go over my personal rules for you. We’ll start with this room,” he said while gesturing around the room. “I spend the majority of my days in here, thus it gets messy quite quickly. While you must clean it, you shall never clean my desk. I don’t care if its entirety is covered in parchment and books; they are not to be touched. Neither are the drawers.”

My eyes followed his fingers as they pointed towards his desk. The flint striker shined with the light from a nearby candle. It was calling my name, but patience was going to be the key to snagging it, so I turned back to the prince as he stood up from the couch. He walked towards a series of display shelves. Numerous peculiar items sat atop it. The one that caught my eye the most was a small glass ball with a golden ring around its middle. 

“None of these items are to be touched under any circumstances, understood?” he asked. His voice had turned dark. Seems as though these objects held quite the meaning.

“What if one of them is about to fall onto the floor?” I asked, purposefully trying to irritate him, just to see how far I could push him. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance but did inform me that should an item be falling to its doom, I could catch it. 

Draco continued going around the room and telling me what I could and could not mess with. Some of these things seemed completely arbitrary, like the crooked picture frame above an end table. Others made sense, like the ring on display. According to Draco, it had been passed down through eight generations.

Once Draco finished going around his study, he headed to the door, ready to lead me to his bedroom. Before joining him, I walked by his desk and pretended to look at the portrait to my left. It was of the prince and his father. Draco saw this, and instinctively followed my gaze; it was all I needed. My fingers swiped the flint and steel case right off his desk and slid it into my apron pocket. When his eyes returned to me, confusion evident on his face, I was already heading towards him. He said absolutely nothing about the now missing item. What a shame, he really had been just angry this morning.

As we entered the bedroom, I felt my eyes begin to widen. His room was magnificent. Not only did he have a dark green canopy bed, but he also had couches, a fireplace, a floor-length mirror next to his enormous wardrobe, and another desk. I noticed from the open door that it even had a washroom of its own. I must not have hidden my surprise well enough because I heard a soft chuckle beside me.

“Biggest bedroom in the palace,” Draco gloated, his hand on his hip. I disregarded him and instead began walking to the windows. When I got to them, I peered out to see a relatively big fenced-in field. There looked to be some stables in one corner. Do they have horses?, I wondered. Unable to quell my excitement, I turned to Draco to ask but stopped short when I found him giving me a hard stare.

“Do you have no manners at all? You cannot just wander around my bedroom as if it is your own! I’ve been tolerating your nonsense only because it’s your first day, but one more foolish act of disrespect, and you’re gone, understood?” he lashed out, his teeth barred and chest heaving. I gave him no reply, only watching as he seethed with anger. However, that soon got boring, so I turned my head back to the window. His little tantrum didn’t phase me one bit; I knew his words were empty threats. 

“Do you have horses?” I asked, breaking the silence and meeting Draco’s eyes again. His eyebrows were knitted together, and his nose was scrunched. 

“Seriously? You’re not going to acknowledge what I just said?” he questioned, his anger still strong. I said nothing, my eyes blinking at him with false innocence. He stared at me, waiting. When he realized I wasn’t going to back down, he threw up his hand halfheartedly. “Yes, of course, we have horses. What kind of a question is that?” he berated me. “Whatever, just sit down, and I’ll show you what else you’re forbidden to touch.” I decided enough was enough, and I did as I was told, taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs. 

As Draco roamed about his room, I couldn’t help but let my eye be drawn away from him again. This time, it wasn’t the window that interested me. It was the sword hanging above his nightstand. The handle of it looked to be made of jade stone. It had silver snakes curled around it, hovering, almost. At the base of the blade was a dark, black gem. Not until Draco waved his hand in front of my face was my gaze torn from it.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” I apologized. However, the prince didn’t look upset. He smirked at me as he walked over to the sword and gently lifted it from its shelf. His right hand gripped the handle as he began lightly swishing the blade through the air. I watched, mesmerized as he handled the weapon with ease. I’d be lying to myself if I said it wasn’t attractive. There’s something inherently captivating about a man who’s good with his hands. 

Without warning, Draco twirled the sword around then upwards towards the ceiling before slowly bringing it down until the tip of the blade was nearly grazing my nose. My heart pounded in my chest, but not from fear. 

“Do you know how to use one?” he asked. I shook my head. Of course, I didn’t know how to swordfight. “Didn’t think so,” he replied, lowering the blade from my face.

“Why do you ask, Your Highness?” Draco didn’t answer. He seemed to be in deep thought. Surely he wasn’t thinking what I was thinking. 

The prince toyed with the sword for a moment before looking at me and asking, “Would you like to learn?” His expression remained blank as he stared at the floor. He was nervous.

“Why would I? And why would you want to teach me?” I asked him. There was no point in beating around the bush. Draco shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at me briefly before breaking eye contact again.

“Protection,” he stated as if it were obvious. “Sure, you can wash my bedsheets and clean my room, but knowing that I can have you as some sort of secret weapon, should anything ever happen, is good insurance.”

He wasn’t wrong, I suppose. Teaching me to fight would be a good thing to have in his back pocket. If anything were to happen, like a neighboring kingdom attacking Sithrawl, not one member of their army would consider me a threat. Furthermore, not many get the chance to learn the art of wielding such a dangerous item. I’d be stupid to deny his offer. I pushed myself up from the chair and clasped my hands together.

“I accept your offer, Your Highness,” I said confidently. There was a mocking undertone, but of course, Draco didn’t pick up on it. Him and his big head.

“Wonderful. We shall meet in the dungeons every Friday at, let’s say, nine o’clock.”

“In the morning?”

“Evening,” Draco specified. I nodded but went on to ask another question.

“May I ask why the dungeons? That seems like an odd place. Surely a ballroom would be better suited?”

“Well, if you’re to be a secret weapon, we can’t exactly have you swinging a sword around in one of the main rooms of the castle now, can we?” Draco smiled, waving his sword back and forth as he spoke. I didn’t like how cocky he was with that thing in his grasp.

“Of course, you’re right.” A moment of silence passed. Draco continued playing with his sword while staring at me, his eyes cloudy. “Am I dismissed, Your Highness?” I spat out, eager to leave the tension-filled room. Draco nodded and gestured to the door. I bowed slightly, showing my thanks.

As I was reaching for the handle, Draco cleared his throat behind me. I spun around to face him, wondering if he was going to change his mind. Maybe there was something else he wanted to go over. However, his next words surprised me.

“Forgive me. It’s just occurred to me that I haven’t asked for your name.” 

I felt my eyebrows raise and the corners of my mouth lift, despite my best efforts to retain a straight face. You shouldn’t be blushing because he’s doing the bare minimum of asking your name, I chastised myself. Truly, Draco had been nothing but a spoiled brat since I met him this morning; however, there was something about him that drew me in. He just seemed so intriguing, so puzzling. I wanted to figure this man out.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” Draco started. He then took a few steps towards me, swinging his sword. He seemed to like fidgeting with it. “I will see you at dinner.”

I swallowed. He had gotten close enough that I was able to smell his perfume. Despite the sword in his grasp, I looked up at him. Once again, a staring contest arose. This one didn’t last long, though. “Until then, Your Highness,” I said softly. Then I pulled the door open and hurried out, not bothering to look back and see if Draco was staring. I didn’t have to. I could feel his eyes on me.

Taglist(pls lemme know if you don’t want to be on the Betwixt taglist!): @mischiefisbeingmanaged​ @pastelpuffbar​ @cutie1365​ @dracoxmgg​ @lumlfy​ @sambucky8​ @emilianamason​ @raplinethereal​ @DixieTheMorab24 @xoxohollands​ @prongsandprancer​ @ch0kemedracomalfoy​ @avlauriaa @purpleskymalfoy @mariah-can-dream​ @drxcomvlfx​ @sydnee-kom-spacekru​ @dracosgoodgirl​ @voilawind​ @gloryekaterina​ @anchoeritic​ @ragxsxragxs​ @exoticlizard @dlmmdl @siriusblklftv​ @Writtenbyadramaqueen @amourtentiaa​ @keidensu​

[norahjakobs]

On The Sidelines

After an accident while on a mission Jinny has a broken foot and is stuck on the benches for a month. Her girlfriend Amy comes over to her home to visit and cheer her up.

(This was commissioned by @wombatking)

The knock at the door was met by a holler of “Let yourself in, key’s on the top of the door frame.”

Amy entered Jinny’s home, two shopping bags in hand both full, and a backpack on her back. It sported several pins referencing games from primarily the 90s with one or two more modern ones offering some variety.

Jinny could see her clearly from her spot on the couch. Her foot was propped up on the armrest, covered in a cast. If it weren’t for the cast on her foot she’d be with the team or out doing stuff, instead of stuck at home on the benches. She had already tried asking Robin to call one of those magic folk he knew to heal it up but apparently that would be ‘inappropriate’.

Being alone at home sucked, but at least Amy had decided to visit. Jinny would be lying if she said she hadn’t got out of her room and hobbled over to the living room to wait. She’d also be lying if she said the crutches were intuitive for her to use.

Amy set her bags down beside the couch and then leaned down to give Jinny a hug and peck on the cheek. There’s a warm smile on her face. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“You too. I hope you aren’t missing anything exciting for this.” Her tone made it clear she felt like she was. She’d much rather be out with Amy than here with her.

She shook her head. “Nope, nothing happening today as far as I know. But even if there were I still would come. I’m not going to leave you with netflix as your only company.”

Jinny gave a small chuckle. “You would not believe just how poor a selection they’ve got of westerns.”

“Well, no more need to worry about that. I brought some entertainment of my own.” 

Amy sat down on the floor next to her bags. Jinny watched her as she began to rifle through the bags, spotting glimpses of bright colors.

She pulled out some snacks and a bottle of soda and placed them on the coffee table, next to the TV remote. “In case you are getting peckish.”

Then out came some small novelty toys. A few of those finger skateboards, a yo-yo, and few other things to keep her hands busy. Jinny raised an eyebrow, to which Amy retorted “Have you seen how antsy you get when you don't know what to do with your hands?”

She couldn’t argue that. Between target practice and helping out around the house she had grown used to having something to occupy her hands.

Then lastly she had packed a couple of video games and one of her consoles, of course wrapped in a generous layer of bubble wrap that she tossed over to Jinny as she got it unwrapped. “I also brought some co-op games for us to play, how’s that sound?”

“It sounds good, I guess.” Jinny swung her feet down to the floor to give Amy space to sit down beside her.

Which Amy did as she placed a hand on Jinny’s shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what? I’m fine, really.” She answered before the question was even asked.

Amy just gave her a look, a knowing look that crumbled her defensive layer. “Jinny, you didn’t even let me get to the part where I ask how you are. So why don’t you get that foot up here so I can doodle on your cast and you tell me what’s up? I brought a pretty cool metallic sharpie.”

Jinny crossed her arms and huffed. She was fine… her glaze turned briefly to Amy and the earnest look of understanding on her face. How did she get blessed to have such a nice girlfriend?

“Fine.” Jinny propped her broken foot up by Amy, who began to doodle what looked to be a crystal heart in metallic purple. She had to admit it did look pretty cool.

“I guess I just, I feel pretty useless right now. Everybody is off and helping folks or having some sort of adventure. Then here I am, stuck at home for a month cause I jumped down from somewhere I shouldn’t have. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to Superboy, or you.”

“Jinny, that’s not true. I’ve been put out of action more than once to mundane stuff, same as you. Besides, that doesn’t even matter. Beating yourself up for an accident isn’t gonna heal your foot, it’s just going to make you grumpy.” She gave a cheeky grin.

She had to stop herself from giving a pout of ‘I’m not grumpy’ as she realized that it was possible (in fact very likely) that Amy was right. “I-, thanks Amy. I just, ya know I don’t like being passive. So this has just been real frustrating.”

“I know, but hey maybe this will teach you a little patience. But even if it doesn’t, I’m here to help you cope. You aren’t facing this alone.” Amy leaned forward and after a moment where Jinny could swear their noses were touching she gave her a kiss.

She let out a chuckle. “I’m not so sure I’ll be learning anything from this. Either way I’m glad you’re here. This would be pretty unbearable without the company.”

Amy shrugged. “Who knows, I felt pretty similarly when I tried out animal crossing. I thought I’d just do time skips, but after a bit I actually started to like the slower pace. It’s… relaxing sometimes to just have to wait.”

She put the sharpie down onto the coffee table and got off the couch to start setting up the console she brought. Jinny took a look at the finished doodles on her cast. The crystal heart she already saw was beside Amy’s signature, it was loopy and had a heart next to the Y. There was also an attempt at an 8-bit cowboy hat, a few of the lines were a little wonky but the thought was sweet and it looked bad by no means.

Jinny considered her words. She didn’t think she’d ever be somebody that would prefer to stay out of the action, but maybe part of the reason why was the novelty of it. She had to admit Amy had more experience with adventure. It was a natural conclusion that experience probably colored her view.

So it’d seem she’d have to catch up to the level of adventures Amy’s been on before she could say for sure where she stood on the issue. Either way though, she was feeling better about her time on the benches.

“So, which one do you want to play?” Amy held up two disc cases. One looked to be a high fantasy rpg and the other a western shooter.

“I think you and I both know what I’m gonna pick.” She pointed to her choice and Amy put it in. Then came back onto the couch and the two began to play video games together, Amy resting her head on Jinny’s shoulder.

[edda-blattfe]

Holiday Headcanons

(A.k.a. Writing warm up, cause lord knows I need to get back in the game.)

- Night Raven, a bleak, desolate institution dedicated to the mastery of magic in all forms. Only the strong of spirit can see past the dismal stone walls, into the beating wealth of knowledge it truly possesses. It is not place for the feint of heart....that is, until winter comes around.

- The holiday season gives our beloved headmaster, Crowley, a chance to “warm up” the dreary castle-turned-school with cheerful tinsel, Yule trees, lights, candles, and many more delightful decorations. The hallways are no longer dreadfully dull places where the dearly departed and horrific wonders lurk, but sparkling pine scented pathways. Classrooms no longer seem like prisons to students and all the fields as far as the eye can see is dusted with shimmering snow. Fireplaces are constantly being fed logs, offering everyone some relief from the cold. Yes, Night Raven college looks splendid this time of year.

- No one knows who, or even why they do it, but every morning throughout December a copious amount of festive cookies and pastries are set out in the cafeteria. The cooks swear it’s not them, and the school records support their claims. Students have tried to catch the culprit for decades now, with no success. There are several theories flying around. Some say it’s the ghost of the first cook at Night Raven coming back to help cheer on the students for finals; others believe that it’s Crowley himself wanting to give his students a helping hand. In any case, the food is always phenomenal and greatly appreciated.

- Each dormitory is responsible for their own decorations and function organization. It’s become a sort of competition between Pomefiore, Scarabia, and Heartslabyul. You can probably guess how these dormitories do their thing, so let’s talk about why the others don’t partake.

- Savanaclaw has a long history of not caring if their holiday spirit is visible or not. If someone wants a tree they’ll put it up and pull out the old ornaments, but that’s as far as it goes unless someone wants to volunteer. There is a punching bag dressed as Santa Clause that Leona actually takes the effort to pull out of the closet himself. He gets a kick out of seeing the first year’s reaction to it.

- Ignihyde isn’t the most competitive when it comes to holiday stuff. Most of their decorations are led lights and sticks to a blue, white and silver color pallet. If Idia is feeling a little festive he’ll stick a pair of antlers on his drones with a red light where their “nose” would be.

- Octavinelle is waaay too busy with the holiday rushes at the cafe and contract signings to care about competition. Though, they’d have a good chance of winning if they did! The restruant looks like the holidays stuffed into a single glass ornament for the entire month. Tinsel and holly is literally everywhere! You’re gonna want to watch your step, there’s a few sticks of mistletoe hanging in the mess of cheer.

- Diasomnia tried to join in...but unlike the school, there is no way of dispelling the natural eerie atmosphere that hangs over this dorm. It’s like there’s a spell over the place that turns even the cheeriest of decorations into horrific, macabre pieces straight out of the Victorian era. The dorm members have abandoned all hope of trying to compete and have come to embrace their dark holiday vibe. Besides, they always win the Halloween competitions. It’s only fair that the others get a chance of winning something!

- Vil, Kalim, and Riddle are all hell-bent on winning this year’s competition....it’s a little frightening, to be honest.

- Pomefiore always gears towards a crystal and snowy wonderland theme that matches their dorm’s atmosphere beautifully! In the morning, light streams through the windows and floods the common rooms with glittering crystal rainbows more enchanting than the snowy wonderland outside.

- Scarabia focuses less on theme and more on “how many lights can we put up without violating Crowley’s regulations on light pollution.” EVERYTHING is covered in lights. It’s so strong that dorm members will wear sunglasses at night to avoid ruining their eyes. Jamil makes sure they all get shut off by around 9pm for the sake of sleep.

- Heartslabyul takes a more traditional homey approach. They have trees decked out in glistening ball ornaments and whatever the members had picked up from Sam’s. Golden tinsel is everywhere, as are bells and seasonal tea cups. Red, green and gold are the go to colors here, with occasional wonky pink flamingo wearing a Santa hat or multicolored hedgehog breaking the consistency. Decorative present boxes are everywhere and are typically stuffed with candy (cause Riddle expects to find something in them, he ain’t having any of that empty box nonsense!) for all the members.

- Azul’s favorite part of the holiday season is definitely the music. Say what you will about carols, this man will be seated at his glorious piano, tickling the ivories to whatever holiday diddy is stuck in his head at the time. Karaoke for the month is dedicated to holiday music and nobody misses a night, not even Vil.

- The trouble trio (Lilia, Kalim, and Ace) use this opportunity to sing things like Alvin and the Chipmunk’s “Christmas Don’t Be Late” and “Jingle Bell Rock”. Their rendition of “Santa Baby” remains their best work up to date.

- Vil, Rook, and Epel prefer to sing the “darker” Christmas hymns, like “What child is this?”, “O come, O come, Emmanuel”, and “Carol of the Bells”. It’s a hauntingly beautiful display that earns their audiences’ full attention. (Vil probably gets the whole dorm to do the Carol of the bells, now that I think about it)

- Lilia has a love/hate relationship with this season. On one hand, you have tons of sugary sweet treats literally hanging off tree branches. On the other, elf jokes. Silver gave him elf pajamas as a joke once; it wasn’t pretty. (Lil gremlin went feral on his ass so fast... *imagines Silv video taping Lilia opening his present and seeing the exact moment he realizes what it is before tackling the camera head on...all you see are furious red eyes and fangs before the footage cuts out*)

- Ruggie isn’t a fan of the holidays, but he’s there for all the food!

- Believe it or not, Jade and Floyd actually takes it easy on late payments this time of year, Azul is also more prone to giving extensions. They’ve all seen or read “A Christmas Carol” and know first hand that ghosts are, in fact, very real. They ain’t gonna make Scrooge’s mistake!

- Jamil can leave or take the holiday season, he really doesn’t care that much about it. Nevertheless, he still puts in a lot of effort to make the holidays special for Kalim, who loves it with a childish passion.

- Ortho hasn’t had many Holidays, so he’s still very much in awe of everything.

- Mozus actually really likes the holiday season...at home with Lucious and a book in his armchair placed before a roaring fire, enjoying the peace and quiet.

I’m leaving off there for now, but if you’d like more holiday headcanons shoot me an ask! Gtg work on other stuff. Hope y’all enjoyed!

[louiserandom]

old friends and new companions

for: @greeneyedtrickster :3 the formatting for the ask reply got wonky so i’m reposting it like this :D Hope you like it :3

Rating: T

Pairing: Jiraiya/Tsunade

Summary: Jiraiya is reckless and a bit of an idiot.

Orochimaru, too, is reckless but by no means lacks intelligence.

Tsunade is just done. So done.

A/N: alternatively, the latest of the Bizarre Adventures of the Legendary Sannin :D I took so many creative liberties in this lol and I hope it turned out fine. Enjoy!

Read on AO3 or under the cut :3

“Care to explain why you didn’t wait for backup like we told you to?” Tsunade demands, bandaging the worst of Jiraiya’s wounds perhaps a little too harshly.

“He’s an idiot,” Orochimaru replies helpfully from where he’s lounging on the other side of the cave.

“Hey!”

“I know.” Tsunade sighs, iryo chakra pooling out of her hands onto Jiraiya’s other injuries.

“I’d have liked to see you face off against that monster, dumbass!” Jiraiya growls, trying to sit up from his makeshift sickbed, a deathbed not two minutes earlier, but Tsunade forcefully restrains him, hitting him lightly over the head for good measure.

“I will,” Orochimaru says sweetly, “and unlike some people, I’m not going to behave like a suicidal moron.”

Jiraiya huffs but holds back his explosive retort, conceding the fairly good point. Perhaps facing off a giant disgruntled leech with a Noh mask wasn’t the best idea when he was wounded and stranded in the outskirts of Sky Country.

“I knew you’d still be busy with that platoon and I was tired of lying in wait,” he grumbles his admittedly poor excuse, “and that creepy guy controlling that monster was right there! So I thought, why not? Two birds, one kunai.”

“Did you actually attack with just the one kunai?” Orochimaru asks, eyeing the many, many wounds Jiraiya is sporting.

Orochimaru dodges the shuriken his friend flings his way, smirking when Tsunade gives Jiraiya her signature glare, making him wilt. Both of them know too well the pain that befalls those who don’t heed Tsunade’s first warning before she gets annoyed enough to inflict punishment.

“Anyway,” Jiraiya says with a put-upon sigh, “the man’s dead. The beast is wounded but I have no idea how fast it heals. So that’s still half the job done for us.”

“Yes, us,” Tsunade says firmly. “We’ll face whatever that thing is together,” she emphasizes the word with a meaningful look at Orochimaru, “so I don’t have to bring anyone back from the brink of death again. That seriously pisses me off.”

Orochimaru blinks, feigning innocence. “What? Why are you looking at me?”

“Maybe I’m well aware I’m the only one on our team with an actual self-preservation instinct.”

“Questionable. But even if that’s true, I at least have more than a modicum of intelligence… unlike some people.”

And now it’s Orochimaru’s turn to withstand Tsunade’s death threat of a glare. As well as an unnecessarily complicated set of rude gestures from Jiraiya, presumably depicting the physical harm he plans to inflict on Orochimaru once he’s completely healed.  

Orochimaru rolls his eyes and presses his palm to his chest. “Fine. I promise not to go out to kill the monster by myself.”

Tsunade eyes him suspiciously, wondering if she should make him solemnly swear by his experiments. But, she supposes, there’s probably nothing in existence that Orochimaru holds sacred, so she simply nods and sends a quick prayer to the gods for patience, if nothing else.

She returns to the task at hand, touching up and cleaning the last of the injuries, now healed enough to become yet another set of scars adorning Jiraiya’s arms and chest, some of them crawling dangerously close to his heart. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, finally out of the sickening mental loop of fearing yet another loved one’s death. Jiraiya’s usual quips and one-liners help lighten the mood as she works, but just to be contrary, Tsunade doesn’t give him the courtesy of a smile.

“Here.” She cuts off Jiraiya’s ramblings that were just on the verge of straying into the perverted territory, offering him the medicine he so abhors taking. Predictably, his face twists in a grimace and he tries his best to keep himself from pouting, with little success. “Just a couple of hours of sleep, and your chakra will be replenished. Drink up.”

Jiraiya crosses his arms. “It tastes sour.”

“Oh?” Tsunade raises an eyebrow. “You know what else will taste sour? The disgusting, humiliating taste of defeat if you decide to do this the long way and we end up wasting so much time that the monster gets away from us. Again.”

Another fair point, Jiraiya supposes, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

“Do I get a kiss from the beautiful lady for my heroism despite the many trials and tribulations?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows. “And what’s my grand prize once we get home victorious?”

Tsunade rolls her eyes. “The prize of one kiss, knucklehead, will be bestowed upon your brow only once you’ve proved you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Oh, come on!” Jiraiya whines, ignoring Orochimaru’s unnecessarily dramatic sigh as he promptly leaves the cavern muttering something about ‘keeping it the fucking bedroom.’

“You knew the consequences.”

“I didn’t! Tsuna, look, I underestimated the wound I got from the battle up north, yeah, fine—but if not for that, I would have won!”

“And once you see the lack of logic in that statement,” Tsunade says with a derisive look that’s very much uncalled for, “I’ll see about that kiss.”

“And the victory sex?” Jiraiya says, because being a little shit never fails to make Tsunade smile.

He’s not wrong. It’s a beautiful smile, despite the exasperation on her face. Her shoulders have finally relaxed, and her hands have stopped shaking, and that’s all Jiraiya needs for now.

“Stop bringing up sex to annoy Orochimaru,” Tsunade cuts the fun short. “And drink.”

Not masking his displeasure, Jiraiya downs the disgusting potion in one go, and instantly feels the familiar, debilitating drowsiness settling in. He groans. The world dulls, then sinks as he flops onto his back, everything blurring into a mesh of colorful blobs. He can only just make out Tsunade standing up from where she was kneeling in front of him to go somewhere out of sight—which is unacceptable, really.

“Hey,” Jiraiya tries, willing his eyes to stay open, “wait, don’t leave…”

“I’m not leaving, silly.”

Warm arms cradle his head and Jiraiya suddenly finds himself lying on Tsunade’s lap, her presence soft and comfortable, radiating warm, lively, calming energy he’s grown to love so, so much.

“Tell me again,” he whispers, snuggling up to her.

“I’m right here.” Jiraiya isn’t sure whether it’s his imagination or not when he feels the faint press of warm lips against his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mm,” he protests, “not what I wanna hear.”

A chuckle. A playful nudge. Jiraiya’s sure he’s grinning like an idiot, what with his eyes closed and his muscles relaxing steadily with each second.

“Maybe I’d like to hear it from you first,” Tsunade says.

“Hm. You know I love you,” Jiraiya says, barely holding on to consciousness as the dreamless chemical-induced sleep fights to drag him under.

“Well.” Another dream-like kiss, to his lips this time. “You know I love you too.”

It’s the last thing Jiraiya hears before he sleeps.

He awakens to the dawn light grazing his eyelids and gasps for breath as the adrenaline from that weird fucking potion rushes through his veins, making his heart beat at twice its normal rate.

Ugh, he thinks, at least my chakra’s back to normal.

Jiraiya sits up, stretching his arms and relaxing the muscles that yearn to hit something, happy to see all his injuries completely healed—thanks to the genius lying beside him.

He smiles as he watches Tsunade, completely relaxed for once, sleeping on her side with her hair undone and a slight smile curling her lips. This despite her own injuries that Jiraiya only now notices she didn’t bother to heal; minor cuts and bruises that she always dismisses because she cares too much about her best friend and lover to notice her own pains. And despite the battle-worn clothes, streaked with blood and grime, and singed in some places because apparently the Sky shinobi she and Orochimaru fought were uncannily skilled in Fire Release—bathed in the burgeoning sunlight, she looks beautiful.

He wishes sorely that he didn’t have to wake her up. But a few minutes is all they should be able to spare at this point.

“Oi, snake boy,” he calls to where Orochimaru is sitting near the entrance.

“Call me that one more time,” Orochimaru says, turning around to glare at him, “and I’ll feed you to one of my summons.”

“Yeah, yeah, same threat, different decade,” Jiraiya says, standing up and looking for the storage scroll with his change of clothes. “You ready to tackle that monster thing? You have that seal for tracking it down, right?”

“One you didn’t need apparently, because of your dumb luck,” Orochimaru says, tone tinged with irritation. “But actually,” he announces, standing up to face Jiraiya, “we’re not going anywhere.”

“Huh?”

Jiraiya tenses once the Shadow Clone before him dissipates and the real Orochimaru (hopefully) shunshins near the entrance.

“You left a clone to keep guard, you dumbass? What if—what if it…” It’s then that Jiraiya notices what—or who, he really is uncertain at this point—Orochimaru is holding in his arms. “Orochimaru, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

The scream has Tsunade awake and already forming hand signs before she realizes there’s no intruder.

Well.

Technically.

And Orochimaru, the bastard, acts like there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

“I would very much like both of you to calm—"

“Why the fuck do you have that monster in your arms, you godsdamned idiot?”

“Orochimaru,” Tsunade growls, angry enough that her chakra starts glowing, crackling in the air around her. “What, exactly, did you do that I explicitly asked you not to do?”

“I broke no promises, Tsunade, as I did not go out to try to kill the ‘monster’,” Orochimaru emphasizes the word with a pet of said monster’s head. Because Jiraiya’s pretty fucking sure that’s a miniature version of the slug-snake thing with the Noh mask he’d fought cuddling into Orochimaru’s hold like it wants to be there. “See, we never thought about befriending him. Talking him out of being Sky Country’s glorified weapon and letting him be an honorable asset for our village.”

“Asset?” Tsunade can feel the onset of one hell of a migraine.

“Him?” Jiraiya asks weakly.

“Yes.” Orochimaru smiles. “This is Zero-Tails. He hasn’t chosen a name for himself yet, but since I’ve officially adopted him, we’ll get to that shortly. Isn’t that right?” he all but coos over his new pet.

“Yes, master,” Zero-Tails answers, its mask shifting into an expression of pure innocence.

Its—his—voice is deep and far too evil sounding in Jiraiya’s opinion, and he will not fall for the innocent act, but for all his indignation, all he can manage is,

“Master?” Jiraiya is fairly sure he’s going to lose his mind with a best friend like his. “Orochimaru, why?”

Tsunade snarls and kicks the wall of the cave, making a big chunk of rock fall off and the whole part of the mountain they’re nestled in trembles dangerously.

“I need Grandpa’s fucking moonshine to deal with this,” she seethes, and Jiraiya couldn’t agree more.

Orochimaru simply keeps smiling and says, “Of course! We need to have a house-warming celebration for our new companion after all.”

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Our Home (III)

Summary: A tattoo and a surprise, things are coming full circle. We’ll be happier one day and everything will fall into place.

Bambam X Reader

Multi-parted: Part I, Part II, Mini-Part III, and Mini-Part IV.

When we finish renovating our home up with a lot of help from our friends. I called Bambam’s mom as a surprise. Bambam introduced her to me over a video call, she told me a few embarrassing stories and left for work. I’m calling her today because Bambam deserves to see his family in person again. He has come so far, I know how much his family loves him as he loves them. Plus in three days it’s a special holiday, and I’m paying for their tickets. I tell his mom my plan and I could feel her grin through the phone. She told me she’s gonna round up her kids and their significant others. But I’ll have to pick them up from the airport is the deal, I agree, Bambam is going to be surprised.

But before they arrive we’re getting our couple tattoos, and man I’m nervous. It’s one thing having Bambam tattoo me, he’s done it many times, quite a few mini practice ones. That doesn’t make me nervous, it's the fact that I’m tattooing him.

I walk down to his shop, he has a client beforehand so I visit a few shops. Finding that flower shop where Mark’s lover works and buying a red carnation and a red rose. Little did I know that was what we were going to tattoo onto each other. I wait around talking with Yugyeom and Mark before Bambam is finally finished. I hand him the carnation and rose, they pronounce my love. He giggles as he bids his client goodbye. “You’re too cute, how did you know?” I tilt my head to the side, “What do you mean?” He grins, “You’re my rose, and I’m your carnation” I roll my eyes, “I guess I’m getting a rose” He grins, “Yeah! Do you want to see the designs?” I agree, letting him drag me over to his station. He places the flowers into a glass vase filled with water and flowers I have brought before.

He showed me three different ideas of what I might like on me; I chose the geometric rose design. The outside of the octagon is black and white and the inside is full of color. He shows me the carnation he wants tattooed on him. While the design looks easy, my brain nearly overloads knowing that I’ll have to tattoo that onto him. He asks me where I want it placed and I point to my forearm so I can always see it.

As he tattoos it onto me I ask him why I’m his rose. He tells me without hesitation, “Because you’ve been through a lot, but you still find a way to follow the sun. You have a wall but you’re willing to let people see your true colors. That’s your pricker, your wall, but other than that you’re so sweet and kind.” I nod, he always finds a deeper meaning in things. A perspective I’m always warmed to hear. When he finishes, cleaning it off and placing a 2nd Skin bandage over my tattoo. It looks beautiful, I grin at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hug him. “Thank you, Babe,” I say kissing his cheek. “My turn! My turn!” He exclaims like a little kid as he places the stencil on his hand.  

He shows me how to use the machine, and once I turn it on, I swear my heart is beating out of my chest. I do a few test runs on an orange before Bambam encourages me to tattoo him. I gulp nervously as I start to tattoo him, dipping the needles back into the ink every few minutes. My lines are a little wobbly as I try my best to make it look nice. I ask him why he’s my carnation. Instead of answering he pertains it to me, why I think he is a carnation. I sigh before letting my thoughts out like a floodgate. “You’re a carnation because you glow with a life, nothing about you is rough. Although your past is traumatic, you never let it affect you. You move on and grow another set of leaves then you’re on your way. The light finds you and shines on you no matter the time of the day. The sun wants its favorite flower to grow big and bright.” He grins at me and lets me continue tattooing him. Two hours later and I haven’t let him peak at his tattoo and if I don't say so myself it looks pretty nice for my first tattoo.

Although my lines are wonky I managed to make the diamond outline straight. When I finish I uncover his hand and show him to gauge his reaction as he looks over it. He laughs a little at it as he stands up before pulling me into his side. His laugh isn’t out of pity but joy as he exclaims, “Thank you so much, Babe, I love it!” Yugyeom and Mark come over to check it out, “Not bad for a beginner,... although I have to say if you were gonna work in our shop, you’d need a lot more practice.” I roll my eyes, “Mark, you have like twelve years over me, shush.”

He laughs as Yugyeom tells us, “I think it’s nice and cute maybe I should have my man come down and tattoo me.” I laugh, “Yeah!” with excitement I tell him. Mark smirks, “I got you guys beat, my girl tattooed me years ago--.” He lifts his shirt to reveal the beautiful sun tattoo, “That’s hers--” “Is she a professional?” He shakes his head, “No, but we practiced a lot before she agreed to tattoo me.” I laugh and with a smile, I tell him, “She likes things to be perfect,” he laughs and I continue, “it’s cute though.” Bambam kisses my forehead, “Not as cute as you--.” I roll my eyes, “You’re cuter, almost birthday boy.” He laughs and we bid them goodbye, swinging our hands back and forth as we walk.

I’m going to get him good for his birthday, his family and our friends are gonna be piled into our house. But I got to pick up his family first, I'm so excited to see his reaction. When Bambam and I arrive home I tell him that I need to grab something from the grocery store and that I might be a while. He pouts wondering why he can’t come with me, we always go grocery shopping together. I look at him with a blank look, I decide to play him, “If you don’t want a birthday cake--.” He puts his hands over his ears and starts going, ‘lalalala’ over and over. I roll my eyes, and kiss his nose before heading out, he is gonna be over the moon.

His mom calls me when they land and I tell her where I'm located. When I see her in my line of vision, she starts moving towards me quickly. She throws her arms around me, and four others trail behind me as I hug his mom back. Before I can get out of her hug the other four wrap their arms around me. His mom tells me happily, “Thank you for keeping Bambam safe and loved. He needs someone like you and I’m so happy to have you in our family!” I rub the back off my neck as they let go and their mother starts introducing us. “Well, you all know (Y/n), but (Y/n) I want you to meet everyone. This is Beer and his wife Goodie.” They wave and we politely bow at each other, “This is Baby, my first daughter.” I already know she includes Goodie as her daughter as well. We smile and bow to each other, “And this is Bank” he smiles and bows with me too. “Ahh, it’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” Bank speaks up, “So what’s the plan?”

---

After filling them in on the surprise, that when he leaves to go get his hair done for his special day. That our friends are coming over and are going to help decorate, and bake. They nod, “We’ll help as much as we can, it’s been so long since we’ve seen Bambam” Baby lets outs in a sigh, I nod. I wish I could tell them everything but I never will. What happened back then is history except for our love, that is eternity.

They tell me stories about Bambam as I drive us home, and I tell them that I’m going to make sure he’s presentable. They laugh and Bank goes, “It’s not like we haven’t seen him naked before!” I shake my head and laugh, oh man his whole family is a riot. I open the door and Bambam is sitting in the kitchen eating as I open the door. With my body towards the door, I signal them over. I shut it as I bring a cake in. His eyes brighten up when he sees me, “Sorry it took a little while for them to get it perfect.” He nods, “Thanks Babe, do I get to see it?” I shake my head, “No, you know the rule Bambam. It’s like how couples that are getting married can’t see each other before the ceremony. He pouts at me as I put the cake in the fridge, “Oh, don’t be a big baby.” I tell him with a laugh acting like I’m sorting through the fridge as the doorbell rings.

I ask him to get it and he gets up and as he approaches the door, I shut the fridge door. Making my way over as he opens the door, his jaw drops. His mother wrapping her arms around him, telling him how much she has missed him. The tears falling from their eyes broke my heart but warmed it, to see them together again. I won’t even deny that I had tears falling from my eyes. His family welcomed me into their family just like he said they would. I haven’t had a motherly hug in so long, my heart physically ached. I thought about the whole meeting at the airport, he’s my whole world and he deserves to have his worlds together. When he finishes the hug-fest he looks over at me gesturing me to come towards them as they move out of the doorway. “Did you plan this?” He asks me and I nod, his strong arms wrap around me. The tears streaking down his as he shakes slightly with he lets out his tears, “Thank you so much, (Y/n), babe, I wish I could tell you how much this means to me,... but it’s indescribable.” I rub my tears against his shirt, not wanting his family to see me cry too, “Bambam,... I can only imagine.” He smiles at me as he releases me from his stronghold and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I reciprocate the motion, “I can’t believe my little Bambam has grown up!” His mom wraps her arms around the both of us, “So, when’s the marriage?” She asks looking between the two of us expectantly. We laugh and look at each other in the eyes, it’s like we can read each other’s minds. He grins at her and without hesitation, he tells her, “Soon” my heart skips a beat.

The night was full of laughter and talking, they couldn’t believe how far we’ve come, they adored our home. We gave up our rooms and left us with the couch. When everyone got tucked in, Bambam turns the t.v. on and flips through the channels, “Did you mean what you said earlier?” I ask him quietly. He tilts his head to the side, “What did I say earlier?” I lean on his shoulder, “That you want to marry me and I quote ‘soon’”

He gives me a big grin, “I guess you’ll find out.” He rubs his nose against mine, I roll my eyes a huge smile forming on my face. I trace my fingers over his tattoo I gave him. I throw a few blankets over us, knowing it gets cold in this living room at night. Which we should probably fix up, but that’s for another day. The tv plays a Scooby-Doo cartoon the sound drifting us both to sleep.

[scribbles-spills-the-ink]

Wild Things|Harry x Reader|

A/n: This Story Has Been Edited As Of 9/19/2019

A/n: All of my x readers contain a reader with a disability, sometimes the disability is important, other times it’s just an extension to the character. Abled bodied readers can still read/like/comment/ and reblog, of course.

+A/n: Okay the time line's a bit wonky, I'm really sorry! Because I really didn't want 15 year olds almost doing it sooo, they're supposed to be in their last year so 17-18, but I hate Umbridge so much I put her in here, but she's just the butt of a joke. Just remember that to them they're legal adults who can do what (and whom ;)) ever they please.

Warnings: I think someone swears, two half naked teenagers. Almost smut but not really. Switching between sub and dom, a few time jumps. Possibly ooc Harry, and incorrect grammar and spelling. Oops!

"Oh come on you little bugger," I groaned at the pumpkin colored niffler that I spotted with Pansy Parkinson's necklaces. "please don't make me take it from you." 

At the mention of his new shiny toy being taken from him, he hastily stuffed it in his pouch and began to dig beneath the ground. Though before he could get very far, I scooped him up by his stomach and flipped him over. I expected only the diamond necklace to fall out, but I was exasperated to see about 50 other pieces fall along with the shiny end of professor McGonagall's walking stick.

I turned the niffler, so he was eye to eye with me, and playfully glared at him. "Greedy."

My niffler chipped in agreement to which I shook my head and giggled. I curled him up in my arms, got on my knees, and crawled over to his little, glittery den in Hagrid's garden. 

He scurried around in his den and continued to chip happily. As I watched him play in his collection of gold and silver, I laughed quietly to myself, and accioed the stolen jewelry into one of my pockets on my coat. 

Just then I heard the familiar booming voice of my mentor, Rubeus Hagrid. "Y/n, would you -er- would ya come down 'ere please." 

I furrowed my brow in curiosity; he sounded nervous. So I accioed my wheelchair over, but before I climbed in and left up the hill, I flicked another gold knut into the nifflers den. To which he clicked in thanks. 

When I made it up the grassy hill using the mobiliarbus charm on my chair I saw Hagrid's back turned to me standing in front of an abnormally large cage. But it was what I heard that made me freeze in shock. It was the echoing, mournful cry of a creature. 

"What's happened, Hagrid?" I asked with concern lacing each word. 

He turned to me with red puffy eyes and his hands clenched in anger, but when he met my own eyes, he softened. "Thank godric yer 'ere, Y/n, this graphorn is terrified." 

My face twisted in confusion, how could anyone be afraid of Hagrid? He was so sweet, maybe a little taller than most, but he was a friendly giant if nothing else. 

But then I realised- did he say graphorn? I've only read of them, but never been lucky enough to see one. My eyes widened and my face softened in awe. 

I leaned on my right and Hagrid took the hint to step aside, so I could see the fantastic beast. Though, what I saw wasn't at all what I expected. 

Her pink armored skin clung to her ribcage, an obvious sign of starvation or serious lack of nutrition. Not only that, but her tentacles at the end of her mouth seemed to be chopped off messily and it seemed that a few of her prongs were missing. Yes, she had about 4 or 5 feet on me, but she looked too weak to even take on an alley cat. 

She let out another melancholy cry, and my hand flew to my mouth. I turned to Hagrid with tears that pricked at my eyelids.

"What happened to her?" There was a slight crack in my voice.

Hagrid huffed and kicked at the ground in a nervous habit. "I rescued her from poachers, you know...you know that their tentacles and horns are used in many potions.-"

My hands clenched at my sides and my face reddened in anger. I remembered that Snape often used even endangered creatures for the most complicated potions, but they never served a significant use. Not many of the students cared, but I had fallen in love with these magnificent creatures the very moment I saw Buckbeak, and have read Fantastic Beast: and Where to Find Them so many times I could recite it perfectly.

I dreamed of becoming a Magizoologist to keep these beautiful creatures safe, and protected, from ignorance.

I was pulled out of my mind as Hagrid continued his story, "- Her capture was an old man, and now she's terribly afraid of any male. Though, I've noticed that she has a liking of children, specifically girls."

As he continued, I turned to the graphorn that was now lying on her side with a blank look in her eyes. 

"And as yer so gentle wit them and have your own background in-" Hagrid's voice trailed off and a look of pity crossed his face. "- well you know what it's like to need a good person around for a change." 

I nodded sadly, still looking at the tired creature, but this time I was braver. I slid off my chair and sat on the ground. She responded by lifting her head a tad. 

I got on my knees again, watching her cautiously, and crawled over to her. About 3 feet away from her she finally stood. If I said I wasn't intimidated, I would be lying, but this creature needs help, and that's all that matters.

I slowly pulled a raw chunk of meat from my shachal, crawled a bit closer and tossed the meat to her. She seemed hesitant at first, so I crossed my legs in front of her and let my hair fall over my eyes. Hoping that this body language would tell her that I wasn't a threat. 

It even seemed to work as she went from tensely standing to sitting patiently.

I brought another piece out and got even closer, but I was saddened that she stepped away and sat. "I'm not going to hurt you-" I gently tossed the piece to her which she hungrily wolfed down. "- I'm only here to help."

She looked at me through her tiny black eyes, but they weren't threatening, they were worried. I could tell she was still unsure of my presence, but seemed to be warming up. So I grabbed another piece, threw it to her, and stuck out my hand to her. 

After she ate the meat she looked cautiously at my hand. I made sure to move it slowly and stop it when she began to shy away. 

Finally, she walked carefully to the edge of her cage where my hand was just outside. Because she was getting curious of me, I took the initiative and placed my hand on the bars in front of her. My heart started pounding in my chest as she fully approached me and her tentacles wormed over my fingers, but I tried my best to calm my nerves.

Then she began to feel my hands with her tentacles and looked at me, this time not with worry but curiosity. Once I thought I had her attention I brought my hand to her head and began to stroke it gingerly. 

I leaned a bit closer and whispered, "Don't you worry, your war is over, you're safe now." 

-------- -------- --------- ---------

Four months later, just at the end of winter, I sat at the Gryffindor table with my best friends Hermione, Ron, and the only person I could think of that overpowered my love of creatures; Harry Potter. 

Ron and Hermione were arguing back and forth over Ron's homework, but I ignored them and opted on being dumb felled by Harry. It was another one of those glorious moments where I looked at him in an intimate moment and fell in love all over again. 

He wasn't doing anything special, just eating a bowl of oatmeal whilst he watched Hermione and Ron's argument with a smirk on his face. But it was the way the enchanted sun brightened his bottle green eyes. It was the way his hair fell messily into his eyes, and his tie wasn't tied very well. It was how soft he looked, and how at ease he was that brought a soft red dust to my cheeks. 

Ding, dong, ding, dong. 

I gasped loudly at the bell and cursed myself. How could I have forgotten! I stuffed all of my stuff on the table on my back and transferred into my wheelchair. 

"Woah, slow down, Y/n we have four minutes!" Ron laughed. 

"You guys do, I don't! I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures!" Before I left the great all I turned back to them and yelled, "Hagrid and I have a special lesson today!"

Then I sped away, but before the three were out of sight I saw their eyes widen in fear.

 -------- -------- --------- ---------

"Easy girl, easy…" I cooed to Lilo, the graphorn Hagrid and I rescued four months ago.

She's come along way since then. Her beautifully rough, armored skin no longer clung to her ribs, and she had tiny prongs growing back to replace the broken ones. She's far more sure of Hagrid and I, but I do think she's imprinted on me a bit. She's usually follows me around when I'm in the Creature's reserve and has even gotten use to my wheelchair. 

I've taught her a few basic manners such as heel, stay, and wait. Though she still has a phobia of men if she's left alone with them, or if someone speaks too loud to her. So I'm usually the one who feeds and grooms her, and I always have to be around if any male is near her. 

Her first test with socializing was Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Fitwit, and she was perfect. I found a tactic that works best for her with me introducing the new person, however I have to show her that I trust them. 

It's a process, but one that I love nonetheless.

Now she and I where preparing to introduce her to the class, and going over training. 

I had a raw piece of meat in my hand as I stood in front of the giant creature, but I trusted her. 

"Sit." I said firmly, and she did with a happy grunt. 

I smiled, praised her, and tossed her treat. She jumped happily to catch it and did a little bouncy dance.

It was so surreal to think that this was the shy, jittery graphorn that was brought to me four months ago. My heart swelled at the thought. 

"Y/n, bring 'er out!" I heard Hagrid cue, and smiled at her. 

I wheeled up at her, clicked my tongue between my teeth, and she lowered her head to me. I put my hands on either side of her face, and rubbed my fingers on her rough skin. 

"You're going to be great, Lilo, I'm so proud of you." 

She used her head the nudge me gently and let out a soulful pulsing sound, that knew was a sound of contentment. I hugged her for a moment longer before releasing her, and putting her in the heel motion. Then we began to walk to the clearing were the class waited. 

When Lilo and I were well in view I noticed a lot of students jumped back quickly, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I felt my nerves prick at my brain, but I refused to let them get to me, and we got closer until we were about 7 feet away from everyone. 

I continued to stroke Lilo until the same haunting noise of contentment left her, but once again the students step away. I nervously turned to Hagrid whom seemed not to notice the fear in his students and kept on his wide smile. 

"Right, now does anyone know what this creature is called- Y/n, put your hand down." Hagrid laughed 

I timidly put my hand down and smiled at my lovely creature. Then focused my attention back on Hermione who answered the question. 

"It's a-a graphorn," It seemed that she was trying to hide it, but I caught the tremble in her voice. "It has a very aggressive nature and it's hide is stronger than a dragons, Hagrid why do you have one!!" She shrieked to which Lilo stuttered backwards.

The other kids took several feet back, but I wheeled in front of her. Behind me I heard Harry yelled something about getting away from her, but I ignored him. Instead I grabbed another piece of meat and cooed,

"Shhh, it's okay. You're okay, you're safe." Then I held the treat to her face and waited patiently for her to take it from me, and stroked her head. 

Lilo cooed back in her soulful way, and Hagrid took the opportunity to continue whilst I whispered calmly to her. 

"Actually, she's not mine, she's Y/n's. She's trained this graphorn since she came to Hogwarts, and she's done a great job, it's practically harmless!" 

"Practically?" Whimpered a frightened Hufflepuff.

"We'll just like humans, creatures are unpredictable, so there is always a risk." I said in the calmest voice I could muster up, but this only seemed to frighten them more. 

"So!" Hagrid continued. "Who wants to introduce themselves!"

Just like a river crashing on the sand, every head in the class went down. The exception of course, was Harry. While he didn't love them as much as I, Harry was always curious of magical creatures. 

I noticed how he looked around before making the decision to step forward. I smiled warmly, and he smiled back.

This soft look on his face melted my heart, and I felt hearts glow in my eyes.  Lilo must have sensed this strong feeling that bubbled in me because she playfully nudged me forward. This action, I noticed, seemed to relax Harry. So, I shrugged coyly at him before turning to Lilo.

I took a piece of meat out again, and told her to sit, to which she happily obliged too. I turned to Harry with a sly smirk on my face and tossed her the piece of meat. 

I smiled widely at her as she wolfed it down, and I couldn't deny the pride that swelled in my chest. As soon as Lilio was completely calm, I turned to Harry and wheeled over to him. Though before I started the process of introducing him to her I asked,

"Are you sure you want to do this, Harry? I won't be mad or anything if you're uncomfortable with it."

Before Harry could answer though, the annoying voice of a certain Slytherin bully spoke up.

"Yeah, go on, Potter! The least it can do is bite your head off, but if we're lucky it'll get you too mudblood!" 

I scoffed at Malfoy and said to Harry, "She's not like that at all, she's sweet and kind, and-"

"I believe you-" Harry cut me off with a proud smile. "-I wanna meet her." 

That warm feeling in the bottom of my stomach ignited once more, and my cheeks burned red. I looked at his hand, but suddenly found it hard to speak. 

"C-can I hold your-your hand?" Harry's eyes widened, and my heart started to hammer against my chest. "It's-it's to show her that I-I trust you...that your-your not dangerous." 

I looked down at my feet, as I was feeling overwhelmed with the eye contact with him. Not to mention the fear of him turning away being disgusted by me.

But to my surprise, Harry did hold my hand. I looked at him through my hair and saw the warmest smile on his face, and though this could all be in my mind, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. 

It was probably all in my head.

"Of course you can hold my hand, you don't have to ask."

As I reached for his hand, I suddenly found it more difficult to breathe, but I intertwined our fingers and took notice of how his hand felt in mine. They were rather soft with a couple colossus from holding his wand to hard, and gripping his quill.

Then I thought, what he must think of mine. They're full of colossus from wrestling with creatures, from over writing, from my wand, and more.

Holding my hand must be awful.

"Y/n?" Harry whispered with worry on his lips.

"S-sorry, I blacked out, are- are you ready."

Harry nodded his head, and but I caught the small glimmer in his eyes.

We began to step toward Lilo who's eyes darted between Harry and I. Then we were about 5 feet in front of her, when I brought Harry and I to the ground.

"Being smaller than her shows that we aren't a threat." I explained, though I didn't get a response back from Harry.

Still hand in hand we crawled our way to our lovely creature. Lilo stood up and I made Harry freeze in our spot to show that we were respectful of her space. Then she did something I wasn't expecting, but my heart warmed at, she began to walk toward us, slightly crouched. She was trying to make herself smaller, and trying not to frighten us.

As she got closer I noticed Harry flinch back a tad. I turned my head to him and whispered, "You've got nothing to fear, Harry. I wouldn't let her hurt you, she would never hurt you."

Harry nodded his head and took a deep breath before joining me again.

A moment later she was in front of us with her head bowed. I took our intertwined hands and began to reach out to her until both of us were stroking her hide. She cooed against our hands and Harry laughed nervously, but as he kept petting her his smile continued to grow.

But Malfoy wouldn't let this moment last very long, as four huge rocks came flying over us and hit Lilo. She freaked out, crying and thrashing around doing whatever it took to keep herself safe. Just in time I saw her clawed paw come down on Harry and jumped in between them.

My arm burned violently a tears pricked at my eyes, but I was determined to save both of them. So I pushed Harry away, yelling at him until my throat was raw to get away.

Hagrid tried to intervene but Lilo slashed at him as well, I begged him to leave us be, to let me handle this alone. To my joy, he trusted me enough to step away.

I pulled out another raw piece of meat, and firmly stated her name over all of her growling and cries.

"Lilo! Sit! Sit, girl!" She didn't hear me, and started to back away into the forest, and my heart began to throb in my chest. I couldn't let her get lost in there.

I took out my wand and casted lumos. It was her favorite spell, because she loved to play with the light. So I continued toward her, but slowed and stopped as I went. My eyesight was getting fuzzy, and I was losing too much blood, but I didn't care. All that mattered was getting her to safety.

"Lilo!" It wasn't hard to fake a sob, this horrid situation was close enough already. "Please, please, come back, heel!"

I made myself small, made sure my body was shaking violently, and let my hair fall in my face once more. I held my lit wand high above my head, so anyway to attract her was active.

"Please, pretty girl. You're safe with me, this will never, ever happen again, I swear. Come back to me."

Silence. The only noise in the forest was my heavy breathing and the whines from Lilo.

"Come here, Lilo." I whispered so low that I knew she would be able to hear it.

Then it happened and my heart swelled with happiness. That soulful pulsing sound that meant that she was content, and the pitter patter of giant paws scrapping on the earth. I put out my wand and held my hand up to her once she was close enough, and when she nudged against my hand, I couldn't hold the water back any more.

I wrapped my arms around my fantastic beast and sobbed into her armored pelt, wishing beyond hope, that I was armored like her.

-------- -------- --------- ---------

Harry, Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, and I trudged through the earth as we put Lilo back in her kennel at the Creatures Reserve. My arm felt like a dozen bees just stung me at once, and the blood was soaking through Harry's Gryffindor scarf he had so lovingly given me.

Not long after, Harry was pushing me into the Hospital Wing, and Ron and Hermione were following suit. Then he helped me on the familiar uncomfortable hospital bed as Madam Pomfrey bounded to my table.

"Merlin's beard!" She scolded as she removed Harry's scarf from my arms and put an enchanted gauze on the large, deep wound."Between you and Mister Potter it's a wonder you two are still in one piece."

Harry and I shared a coy smirk. We had a bet going on as to who saw Poppy more than the other. Harry usually for Voldemort reasons, and myself typically for disability reasons. However, Harry didn't know that it wasn't always because of that, sometimes I forget the warnings from the creatures I helped, or accidentally got in the middle of their eating or sleeping time. It happens quite frequently, and I'm pretty desensitized now, but it's always hard to look back on the scars.

"You alright, there?" Ron asked.

Despite my burning arm,  all the insecurities that pillied up in my brain, and how desperately I wanted a hug. I nodded my head, yes. I'm okay, even though I don't feel like it. 

"Good, 'cause we've got to get to defense against the dark art or else Umbridge will have our heads!' 

Ron grabbed at his throat like he was choking, and we all laughed at his childness. Then Hermione hugged me goodbye, and they both left the hospital wing leaving me alone with Harry. 

He walked over with a smirk and sat down next to my legs. "We'll do what we can, but Umbridge will probably have your head on a spike." Harry raised the tone of his voice to match the girlish voice of Umbridge and squeaked, "Off with her head!!"

Then he made a grab for my throat, but stopped before actually touching me. I laughed and shook my head at his silliness, and just as it always did my body filled with warmth. It was so nice seeing Harry like this, his life is usually a roulette of surviving or not, so it's nice to see him be light hearted. 

There was a moment where we did nothing but gaze at each other. I took in each and every feature Harry had, from his wild ivory hair, pretty crooked smile, brilliant green eyes, and the iconic lightning bolt scar. But as usual, the scar wasn't what intrigued me. No, to me he was not "The Boy Who Lived," or "The Chosen One." To me, he was Harry, just Harry. 

My eyes fell to his lips. The lips that I felt like kissing every time he smiled, then the eyes that I got lost in if I stared to long, and the messy hair that I loved to run my hand through. To say that Harry Potter was perfect would be a lie. No he's not perfect, but he's perfect for me. 

Though it could have just been my imagination, but Harry seemed a bit closer now. And I thought I saw his eyes flash to my own lips, but it was too fast to tell. So, I tried not to think anything of it, it must have been my imagination. 

I leaned away from him and whispered, "You should go to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry. Before Umbridge has your broom and your head."

-------- -------- --------- ---------

3 hours later, I was hidden away in the Room of Requirements, with my favorite book in hand. This day could not have been any worse, I decided. Now everyone thinks that Lilo is a monster, they think I've gone mad for training her, and Lilo now has someone to be afraid of at Hogwarts. Damn it, Draco couldn't just sit still and be quiet and had to make a scene. A scene that could have gotten Harry hurt. 

Or maybe...maybe this was all my fault. Where there signs I missed? Signs that she wasn't ready to socialize with people, and that I was being blinded by the idea of impressing Harry. I never meant to hurt her, I never meant to hurt Harry. Then again, I never did have much luck in love of any kind. I just hope that I can earn Harry's back.

Almost on cue I heard the giant door of my materialized bedroom creak open, and Harry stepped through. His eyes were blinded by concern and he had my favorite flowers held upside down in his hand. 

"I was going to give you these in the hospital, but Madam Pomfrey said you went awol. Then I tried to find you in the y/h/h common room, you weren't there either. This was the last place I could think of."

I sighed, disappointed with myself and bit my bottom lip, "I never meant to- to worry you, Harry. I just needed some time alone."

He placed the flowers down on a nearby coffee table, and sat down with me on the fluffy dark blue blanket on the average sized bed.

"You can't fool me, N/n. Alone time for you either means staying up all night reading, writing, or drawing-" Harry's eyes softened. "-or it means you're over thinking something, and bottling it up instead of telling us. What is it?" 

I shook my head, I always considered myself an okay liar. Easy to forge a bright smile, a laugh and convince everyone I was okay. Not with Harry, somehow he always saw right through me. 

"There- there were a lot of things I never meant to happen, that happened today…" 

Harry sighed deeply and crossed his legs on the bed so our knees were touching. "Oh, so that's what this is about. You know, nothing that happened today was your fault, it was Malfoy's-" 

"You could have been hurt today, Harry!" He seemed shocked at my sudden outburst, heck, so was I, but he didn't understand. "If you had gotten hurt, I...I don't know if I'd be able to stand it. Knowing that I caused you more pain than you've already been through. Knowing I had hurt someone I-" 

I swallowed my breath, and averted my gaze to our knees. "Someone I- I care for." 

"Y/n, look at me." 

I didn't. I was too afraid. What if he had caught my mistake, and what if he didn't feel the same way I did. What if he didn't get butterflies whenever he looked at me, or had to hold his breath whenever the sun hits my eyes just right. What if he didn't waste the summer away waiting for a new letter from me. What if he didn't love me like I love him. Or worse, what if he does, and he's only going to find out that I was never good enough for someone like him in the first place. 

I could have kept thinking forever, and just let my head keep spinning, but Harry put his hand on my jaw and gently pulled me up to face him. Every thought, and every breath stopped in its tracks. 

"Do you know how beautiful your eyes are?" 

What did he say? 

I was staring at Harry so intently, searching for any sign, any sign at all that this was a trick or a game. I never found one, Harry just kept on looking at me, with the warmest smile I'd ever seen etched on his face.

Harry's eyes followed from his hand resting on my cheek and my eyes. "Is this okay?"

He said it so tenderly, like he was speaking to glass china, or like he was afraid that I would break if he spoke to loud. My heart was racing, and my mind was focused on nothing other than him and the way he was looking at me. 

The best I could squeak out was a timid,"yes."

Harry smiled, and it felt like falling in love all over again. This time though, something was different. It felt stronger. I wanted my fingers in his hair and his lips on mine. I was never good at speaking, so I wanted to feel him instead. 

His thumb began to caress my cheek and I couldn't help but melt into his hand. He was driving me mad, and a part of me thought that maybe he knew it. 

"You were brilliant today, and it's not your fault she reacted the way she did. But why did you jump in front of me?" 

I tried to keep looking at his eyes, but he was so close now. I didn't know that his lips were so red and sweet looking, or how he had wrinkles in the corners of his eyes from smiling so much, or how his milky skin looked so inviting to touch. 

"I didn't- I didn't- what was the question?" 

He laughed and just like that it was my favorite sound in the world. I noticed that he had shifted on the bed slightly, and he seemed to be closer than I remembered.

"I asked why you jumped in front of me, you were hurt." 

I gulped and answered quietly, "What does it matter I was hurt? All I cared- all I cared about was protecting you. Because- beca- because I---"

"Because you love me?" Harry smiled brightly while he said it, as if it was his favorite phrase. "Please, don't ever think of yourself as a 'what does it matter?' You matter to Luna, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid. And would I be too proud to say that you matter most to me?" 

"Impossible," I whispered before I could filter it out. "You're amazing, Harry, you deserve someone better." 

"It's not about deserve," He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "it's about what we want. If I come out of this war with nothing other than your hand in mine, I'll be happy. Will you?" 

"Yes," I said without hesitation, and did my best to keep eye contact with him. "yes, I would be so very happy."

Harry sighed while his free hand intertwined with mine. "Would it be alright if...if-" He laughed nervously and began to play with my fingers. "Would it be alright if I kissed you?"

I couldn't say anything, only nodded, but that was enough for Harry. His lips were on mine not a moment later, and it was pure bliss. His kisses were soft and long as we savored the moment. His hands had fallen to my waist, and I brought my hands up to his head, but flinched before touching him. 

For years he's be someone to admire from afar. A precious masterpiece I was too afraid to touch in fear of ripping or staining him more. Was he mine to enjoy or mine adore?

Harry seemed to know the answer though, because through the kiss he whispered. "It's alright, love, you can touch me if you'd like." 

Yes, I would love to. So I closed my eyes, put my fingers in his hair, my other hand at the base of his neck, and pulled him closer. My fingers danced around in his messy black hair meanwhile our kisses got deeper and more passionate by the second. 

He molded with me like two pieces of a puzzle though we never seemed quiet close enough. That was until Harry subtly bit my bottom lip. I suppose I should have teased him, make him feel what it was like to wait, but he tasted so sweet. I had to let him in...

His tongue danced around with mine and I giggled at the permanent taste of candy on his lips. One of Harry's hands moved from my waist to my robe which he tapped and pulled at, asking if he could take it off. I hummed into the kiss and began to take it off, but Harry bit down on my lips lightly in protest. Instead he peeled my robes off slowly and carefully undid my tied. 

"If mine's coming off," I whispered to him as I moved my lips to the base of his jaw, "then your's has to come off too."

"Well what are you waiting for?" 

So with that I continued to place soft kisses along his jaw and neck, and pulled off his robe and tie. I flattened the collar of his button up against his shoulders which exposed more of his skin to mark.

Harry's head rested on mine as I kissed and sucked at his neck and his hands massaged my back. Though I noticed that one hand began to pull at my hair tie that controlled my messy locks, but he didn't get very far. 

I sucked on the spot just below his Adams apple and he shuddered with a low moan and tossed his head back. A fire burned at the bottom of my stomach and I desperately wanted to hear him do that again. 

"That was beautiful, Harry." I whispered as I grazed my lips over the spot.

Harry gasped and grabbed at my hips, "Do it again." 

I couldn't help the smile that crossed my lips as he said that. Harry has always been strong and brave, but he looked so beautifully weak in front of me. Breathing heavily, his eyes screwed shut, and him purposefully exposing his neck to me. 

I went to do it again when Harry brought my free hand to the buttons of his shirt, "Take it off. I wanna see what else you can do." 

"Are- are you sure?"

"Please? Your love is intoxicating, and I want to feel it wherever you can reach."

Harry's eyes where on mine, but they seemed a darker shade of green, like a forest in the night. I couldn't help but obledge. I pulled him into me by his neck and straddled him. Our tongues instantly running across with each other and I quickly unfastened all the buttons and threw the shirt aimlessly. I moved back to Harry's sweet spot and kissed and sucked, though there was a second where my teeth graded the spot and he seemed to fall apart before me.

"Do that again." 

"I don't want to hurt you, Harry."

"You won't, but can you imagine it? Me walking around with your mark on me, Darling?" Harry's hands rubbed up and down my thighs. "I'm yours, my love, and everyone will know it."

I exhaled a deep breath which seemed to chill the spot on him I had been assaulting, because he held my legs tighter. 

"Whatever you wish, my prince." 

I took the patch of skin in between my teeth, Harry's delicious noises encouraging me to continue until it was sure to bruise. And when I was done I swiped the mark with my tongue and moved down to his chest and stomach.

He wasn't toned, and had the tiniest sign of abs but damn did he look ravishing. He was a ripped, and stained masterpiece, but he was mine to enjoy.

Gently I pushed him flat on the bed and muttered mere centimeters from his torso, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are, Harry?" I kissed a straight line down to his stomach and marked every inch of skin above his pant line.

Harry had finally released my hair from it's tie and was holding onto it so tight, with his back arching each time my lips got a little too close to his private. But I stopped at his pants and looked back up no longer knowing what to do.

"What- what do you want, Harry?"

"Just take them off, I need them off please!"

I instinctively licked my lips as he said that and grabbed at his zipper. He moaned my name for the first time tonight and it felt like my whole body was a flame. My hand trembled as I slowly undid the zipper. I thought he would have wanted me to take them off too, but the minute the zipper was undone he violently kicked them off. Harry's large hands wrapped around the back of my head as he pinned me down on the bed.

He kissed me sweetly, but began to bite at my lips, which I'm sure would be swollen tomorrow. Harry attacked my neck with bites and kisses, and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

"Harr- Harry-"

He kissed me harder on my lips and I felt him pull at my own button down. My heart pounded in my chest with excitement as I savored the feeling of Harry’s lips on my skin. But then I remembered my scars from the creatures I loved, and I remember that I wasn't prepared for this to happen, so there was no lace bra or undies. What if he wanted more, if he wanted this fairytale moment, what if I still wasn't good enough?

Anxiety welled in my chest as Harry impatiently undid the first few buttons, so I grabbed his hand to stop him. Though I knew he wouldn’t be, I could help but fear he would be angry with me for stopping him; I turned my head from him.

Tears stung my eyes as I whispered, "I'm sorry, so sorry-"

"Hey there's nothing to be sorry for, if you want to stop we will-” No, I didn’t want us to stop, not yet at least- “if not then don't make me stop. I want to see you, my love."

I took a deep breath and let go of his hand, it was time I was brave. Before continuing on my shirt, Harry placed another slow, yearning kiss on my lips, which then trailed down my jaw, to my neck, and stopped at my shirt. I took a deep sigh and turned my head to watch as he slowly undid each button, and lightly kissed each bit of newly exposed skin.

Before completely pulling it off, Harry asked me again if it was okay. I nodded, and he lifted me up just enough to slip the white blouse off. I saw his eyes softened at the sight of my scarred body, and his nimble fingers gingerly traced the lines-

"Where did all these-" Though he stopped talking halfway through, and licked his cherry red lips.

I wonder why until I felt him place a soft kiss right under my sports bra; right we're Nurbert had scratched me in our first year. I sighed happily as I realised that he was kissing all the scars I had. My back arched slightly into his touch as he kissed, and sucked on my scarred skin.

My fingers danced and pulled in his hair, and I mimicked the sound Harry made earlier. Then he copied my actions by swiping his tongue to each one of them as if playing connect the dots with my scars.

"You're so beautiful Y/n," He moaned whilst he pressed a long, and meaningful kiss on my lips. "but you don't even know that do you?"

I sighed and threw my head back on the pillow as Harry’s hands drew over every curve of my body, and his lips found the hem of my skirt and tights.

Soon enough his fingers began to dance around the hem, and I could feel Harry’s uncertainty as his bottle green eyes met mine. His eyes were big as the sparkled under the warm light, and reminded me of puppy begging for a treat.

Something sparked in the bottom of my stomach as I watch Harry gently pull at my skirt. My heart was beating so loudly I was curious if he could hear it, nevertheless, I swallowed the lump in my throat and said,

“Only, if you want, love.”

I noticed Harry’s soft intake as he gingerly began to pull down you skirt and tights along with them. He seemed to be fully concentrating on removing the clothing, almost as trying to save for a surprise.

I couldn’t help but giggle as I had to trail him to the end of the bed as he tossed the items aside. However, when I went to sit up to see him, the world around us bagan to spin, my mind felt uncomfortably light, and I could feel myself falling backwards.

There was no need to worry though, as Harry was quick to catch me. 

He came into view with his face inches from mine, both of us now in our undergarments. I reached a weak hand to his face to caresse it and he leaned into a kiss.

I enjoyed another soft kiss with him, this time feeling completely captivated. As if he was the only thing on earth that mattered. Sweet like candy, I decided as he allowed my tongue to explore his mouth. Whilst one of his hands held on tightly to my waist for support, the other felt around my lower body. 

Meanwhile my hand tangled itself in his ivory hair, and I enjoyed the sound of his rather loud moans when I pulled too hard. As my free hand roamed around his shoulders and drew shapes on his back.

Not long after I departed from our slow kiss and leaned my head on his bare shoulder, and let my hand fall from his hair to his back. There I continued to trace shapes and phrases as I nuzzled into his neck.

I heard Harry chuckled and suddenly we were falling back on the bed together. He pulled the blankets over us and brought me close to his chest.

Under the sheets, I could feel him rubbing my bear arm that was wrapped tightly around him. “You’re so beautiful, my love.”

I smiled and rested my head just under his chin, “So are you...” Though it seemed so obvious now, I was ready to say something that I had been holding back since our second year. “I love you, Harry, so much.”

At first, Harry didn’t say anything, but then his arm came around to the back of my head; pulling me closer. He placed a long kiss in my hair, and said:

“I love you to, Y/n, you’re my sunshine.”

[withlove-so]

My Fodlansona: Written edition!

Cause who needs art skills, amiright?

(This will have the timeskip looks of Ashe, Annette, and Felix because I took a screen shot from my game and forgot I was at the time skip. If you don’t wanna see that, just avoid this, otherwise you’re good)

Also under the cut, cause this got l o n g

Anyway, my bab!

Her full name is Sorrel Abrielle Caledoria!

I edited a notes sheet for her, and though it’s possible it could change, I like where it is now.

(It’s an edit of my Annette from my game file, with snippets from other characters notes. Don’t mind the wonky stat stuff, I didn’t feel like editing/getting something to match her stat line)

As you can see, she was born in Albinea. (Which I totally made up a history for, since as far as I can tell there isn’t much to speak of beyond the plants that grow there and how freezing it is.)

Past life leading up to 1180:

Her family was the leading and unchallenged noble family for about 7 years after she was born, and even before then they were the leading family. That is until the common people decided to revolt. Her father treated his people poorly since he could do/make them do whatever he wanted without being questioned or denied. They decided to move to Fódlan since they wouldn’t be accepted in Albinea any more.

They, obviously, couldn’t still be considered nobles, so they lived their lives as commoners. Sorrel’s family struggled to adjust to this change, but since she was so young, she didn’t mind at all! She made lots of friends in Fhirdiad, and there were so many delicious treats and candies! A girl her age just couldn’t get enough of it.

But she couldn’t live happily for long, after all, her family wasn’t viewed very fondly. Her father was assassinated while she and her mother were away shopping. Her mother, who feared her life would be next, fled and went into hiding. She and Sorrel went to live at a church near the border, hoping she could take refuge there. Her mother became a priestess and followed in the church’s teachings. She begged the Goddess for forgiveness on the behalf of her husband’s cruelty and her own cowardice.

Her mother died due to a seemingly incurable illness only a few years later. Sorrel blamed the Godess for not helping her mother (or maybe even cursing her directly) despite her efforts to repent. She turned her back against the Godess and the church’s teaching, but because she had nowhere else to go, she feigned loyalty.

Sorrel wants to make her late mother proud, and tries to live her life to the fullest. She decides that since she can no longer be a noble, she may as well become close to one. She decides to attend schooling at the officers academy, this way she would be able to learn how to fight and, one day, become a knight. She hopes that attending at this academy will allow her to become close to and swear fealty to a noble.

What’s her house?

100% Blue Lions, come on now

(I totally wanna think of students for the other two though, cause I really enjoyed making this one.)

What’s she like?

Sorrel is pretty competitive and loves to show off. Gotta get those good knight points, right? She’ll challenge anyone who opposes her to a fight, and the last man standing gets to be right! So basically, she’s not the brightest. She charges in without a plan, but it just kinda works out. Probably because everyone else has to try and cover for her. Despite all this, she really is trying her best, it’s just in... interesting ways. She just wants to help the people she cares about, even at her own risk. (she really is knight material...)

Outside of fighting and training, she’s a softie. She loves eating baked treats and sweets, especially homemade ones. She loves anything and everything soft and fuzzy and won’t hesitate to pet it if she sees it. She also loves cold weather, which goes hand in hand with her love of fuzzy things. If the temperature is above freezing, she’s a sweating mess! She honestly doesn’t understand how anyone can live with it being so hot...

What’s she look like?

I can only give a description but hnnnng I’ll do my best. She’s really pale because Albinea is so cloudy and cold, most people stay indoors and don’t see the sun often. Her skin could be compared to that of a ghost. Her hair is orange and at chin’s length, though it used to be really long when she was younger. Her eyes are a light green color and she has a smallish nose. Her face is always red since she’s not used to Fodlan’s weather, even after all this time. She’s usually sweating for the same reason. She’s taller than average height at 5′5″, though not by much. (Spoiler: She doesn’t get any taller 5 years later, it’s tragic)

Stats and such:

I love gameplay mechanics so I couldn’t not include this

She starts off with an Iron lance, I’m not 100% why I chose this for her it just felt right.

These are her skill levels, including what she’s good and bad at.

⏬Sword: E

⏫Lance: D

⏺Axe: E

⏫Bow: E+

*️⃣Brawl: E

⏺Reason: E

⏬Faith: E

⏺Authority: E

⏬Heavy Armor: E

⏺Riding: E

⏫Flying: E+

I chose brawling as her budding talent cause I’m biased and she’d totally deck someone if she could.

Her default class line would be

Soldier -> Pegasus Knight -> Wyvern Rider -> Wyvern Lord

But other alternatives could be

Fighter -> Archer -> Sniper

(If the enemy gets too close she just... punch)

Fighter -> Brawler Brigand -> Grappler Warrior

(She may not be able to wield an axe, but that won’t stop her from destroying everything in her path)

Personal Skill: Reckless Charge: If unit attacks first, damage dealt to foe +3 and damage taken +3

Misc info:

I chose dancing as an interest of her because... I don’t know. To be honest. I just thought she’d find it fun and enjoyable. Twirling around and having fun, laughing and just, being chill for once in her life. It was just a nice thought, but because that’s all it was I didn’t really know where to put it. So here it is.

I chose her close allies for a few different reasons.

I chose Ashe because I’m biased and love him he admires and wants to become a knight and so does she. But for two completely different reasons. I thought the dynamic would be interesting since he wants to become a knight to help people while she wants to be one just so she can rise above her current status. And I’m biased and love him.

I chose Annette because I see her as someone who is also close to Ashe and because she is from Fhirdiad. I imagine they must have run into each other a few times back then, and they could have even been friends. Maybe they shared sweets together? The idea was just too cute to pass up! They would definitely have girls nights and just hang out together.

Finally, I chose Felix because I’m 100% sure they spar. All. The. Time. They both want to prove their strength. Sorrel wants to show off and prove she’s the best, and Felix wants prove he’s stronger than everyone, and getting stronger, so of course he’d challenge someone so cocky. Sorrel is pretty naïve on what it really takes to be a knight, so most of what she knows comes from fables and such, and Felix would definely HATE it. So I think they’re dynamic would be like a competitive Ashe and I love it.

Bonus: Caspar would totally be a close runner up. They’re both morons who love charging in, they would just enable each other and it’d be horrible.

[mobius-prime]

96. Sonic the Hedgehog #58

Friendly Rogues & Foul Villains

Writer: Ken Penders and Clayton Emery Pencils: Art Mawhinney Colors: Ken Penders

The crediting for this issue is all wonky. For some reason, the credits for the second story appear on the first page of the first story, while the actual credit for the first story appear right at the end. You can tell easily, because the first set of credits lists Manny Galan with the second being Art Mawhinney, but the art style of the first story is very clearly that of Art. I've just fixed it and credited them appropriately for convenience here. Also, strangely enough, the writing for this issue seems very rushed and almost unfinished. The writing is choppy, lines cut themselves off abruptly, and sentences don't make as much sense as they should. I can only assume this is because Kenders was busy writing for the KtE issues and didn't have as much time to spare making this one polished, but even then, you'd think the editors would catch it. Ah well.

So as you'll recall, we ended on Sonic and Tails meeting Yanar as he's thrown into the dungeon they're trapped in. After a brief period of surprise at seeing an echidna that isn't "Rad Red," a couple Robians, acting evil as though they were still under Robotnik's control, come in and detach Tails from the wall, dragging him away despite Sonic's protestations.

Meanwhile, despite having a bead on Knuckles with his arrow from the beginning, the Sonic clone in the forest instead jumps down to yell at him to "Stand and deliver, varlet!" and name himself as Rob o' the Hedge, basically revealing himself to be the hedgehog version of Robin Hood, complete with cheesy medieval-style dialogue. Knuckles immediately responds by flipping him into the water.

I like how everyone's responses in this arc so far to being knocked onto the ground is to immediately look up at the attacker and be like "You know what, I respect you. Let's team up."

Back in the dungeon, Sonic explains to Yanar how he and Tails ended up here. They tried to fly too soon after the Day of Fury rainstorm, resulting in their plane crashing and them being taken captive by a group of hostile robots mistaking him for Rob o' the Hedge. Gee, I wonder how that happened? Shortly thereafter, the robots come back in, this time to take Sonic away for questioning, but Yanar notices the shiny golden key they're holding to Sonic's shackles, and tackles one of the guards, grabbing the key in the chaos without them noticing.

As he's dragged out the door, he flings the keys back to Sonic, who easily catches them on the toe of his shoe and begins unlocking his shackles. Freedom!

In the forest, Rob takes Knuckles to a treehouse hideaway while explaining to him how his "merry band" were all captured and roboticized in the past, leaving only him to carry on the fight - and what's more, during the maybe one whole hour Knuckles and Mari-An were away, these robots already managed to enslave the entire tribe Knuckles was supposed to be leading to safety. Good job, buddy!

With that, the two form a partnership to get their combined friends back. Back in the dungeon, Sonic waits patiently until the guards come back to open the door, then bashes them up a bit before racing down the corridors to find Tails. And oh no, it's a horrific sight! Tails is strapped to the rack, and is being tortured for information by t- …uh… t-tickling his…

Ken Penders, I swear to god, you can't even deny that this happened, okay? I know you drew that one Lien-Da picture for a fan with her feet all out and being tickled by Eggman. Far be it from me to judge someone for drawing art for a fan, or for having a fetish that they want to draw art for, but for goodness sake Kenders, you can't pretend like it was all business when you specifically write this kind of stuff into your plotlines. I was so shook by Tails' feet being tickled all up in our faces like that that I almost missed the reveal in the last panel above that the interrogator is none other than General D'Coolette, Antoine's own father roboticized ten years ago in the war against Robotnik!

Sonic rushes down and quickly frees Tails, then tries to reason with the general, mentioning his son, but the roboticized general states he has no memory of the names Sonic gives him and begins to attack. Sonic dodges and refuses to fight, stating that he can't hurt him as "he's sick," which really just adds to the insight into Robotnik's frankly genius strategy behind the roboticization. Not only did it give him a growing supply of free, mindless labor, but it ensured that those lucky enough to escape would be reluctant to fight against their former family and friends, rendering them easier in turn to capture. I suppose the early comics were too goofy to go into ideas like the use of psychological warfare, but despite how serious that phrase sounds I can assure you the later comics were not at all afraid to get deadly serious at times, something which I genuinely appreciated. Anyway, enough of my rambles here - Tails merely unties a light fixture above General D'Coolette while he's distracted with Sonic, causing it to crash down onto his head and allowing the two to escape.

Back in the forest once again, Knuckles and Rob are walking along when they encounter a suspicious robed figure coming towards them. Rob steps forward to challenge the figure, who immediately takes offense to his words and whacks him right back into the water, impressing him once again. The figure is, as you might have expected… Mari-An!

Geddit? Rob and Mari-An? Like Robin Hood and Maid Marian? Hoho, so clever! They head toward the fortress where everyone is imprisoned, as Sonic and Tails run circles around that same fortress looking for a way out. Naturally, as Rob shows Knuckles and Mari-An a secret tunnel to the inside, the two groups bump into each other, allowing them to join forces.

However, as they reach the fortress' main courtyard, they encounter a horrible sight - Yanar on the hangman's platform ready to be strung up, with the echidna tribe being forced to stand and watch as the roboticized general makes an example of their leader! What a nail-biting cliffhanger! I'm sure there's no way they'll come up with a rescue in time starting next issue!

The Living Crown

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Manny Galan Colors: Ken Penders

Now that the king is back to full health, Dr. Quack decides to give him a very thorough checkup, something which the king is a bit grumpy about. Hilariously, Dr. Quack's first name is revealed to be Horatio, which is about the funniest name you could possibly give a cartoon doctor duck. I'm just waiting for Yorick to show up at some point now. For some reason, the king decides to explain why their country is ruled by a monarchy, which, okay, despite this line of conversation kind of popping up out of nowhere, I'm interested. I mean, I've complained enough about this world's system of monarchy and how it's only hurt more than helped, so it'll be nice to find out the why, right?

Well, as it turns out, when little Maximillian (because that is revealed to be the king's name, though it's still not anywhere near as hilarious as freaking Horatio) was ten years old, his father took him to a secret chamber underneath their castle, where he was amazed to see a pool in the center of the room that looked like it was filled with liquid gold and silver.

…this sounds disturbingly like a cult. Like, terrifyingly so. The king explains how the Source of All is basically the Force from Star Wars, and once one bonds with it they can see into the future to limited degrees and be guided by it like some kind of spiritual divination force. The king's sword and crown are linked together, and when he sent Rosie away with his sword during Robotnik's coup the crown "merged with" him, which I can only imagine as some hilarious scene where the crown just melts and goes into his head pores or something. Without the sword and crown's power to protect him, the king was captured and exiled into the Zone of Silence, but now that he has the sword back, his crown has returned as well, sitting atop his head this very moment. He begins to get a little unnervingly excited - it's not played off as such, but to an outside reader like me, yeah, it feels very cult-like, as he essentially declares that he wishes to put Sally through the same ritual even if she doesn't like it, something we're promised to see the next Sonic the Hedgehog issue. Oh, boy…

[popunktomlinson]

summer ‘19 fic rec

so i read a lot of fanfic this summer and mostly just made this for myself for reference but figured i would publish it if anyone wants some fic recs!! 

RE-READS

Young & Beautiful - Velvetoscar (227k)

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Special Topping - LoadedGunn (13k)

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.

Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.

Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"

Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.

Do You Wanna - Randominity (12k)

"I got a question for you, mate," the lad says. "You wanna make a quick fifty quid?" (*PWP)

I Had The Life Of Ordinary, I Spat It Out - TableForThree (22k)

Harry Styles falls asleep a sixteen year old boy nervous about his upcoming X-Factor audition that could make or break his career. He wakes up a twenty-six year old man with a husband and two children, and no recollection of the past ten years.

These Inconvenient Fireworks - wontsitstill (190k)

Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one another eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

Red Brick Heart - hazmesentir (98k)

Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his.

Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn't expect is a surprise roommate who's loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he's ever wanted.

Unbelievers - isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

NEW READS

As You Are - Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

rivers ‘til i reach you - embodied (29k)

AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

Born to Make You Happy - objectlesson (25k)

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Swallow The Knife - whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

And That’s The Tea - 2tiedships2 (27k)

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

You Know It’s Christmas (My Heart Is Open Wide) - messofgorgeouschaos (21k)

In which Louis is a cast member at Saturday Night Live, and a past airport encounter comes back to haunt him before their Christmas episode.

blue is all i’ve ever really known - coffeelouis (5k)

In order to keep things "light and breezy," Louis and Harry have established a comprehensive set of rules which will ensure they don't screw up their professional working relationship with this date they're (finally) going on.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong.

[or, the BROOKLYN NINE-NINE AU that no one asked for and I wrote anyway]

Once Upon A Time - objectlesson (26k)

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Make Your Words A Weapon - HelloAmHere (36k)

There’s no single path forward from the connection, no truth other than the truth that the person whose words you carry is out there, an undefined something that you’re going to have to deal with.

In whatever way you can possibly deal with meeting the stranger who's always been there, and always been missing.

OR: Louis is a music critic, Harry is a rockstar, soulmates are destiny but no one ever said destiny was easy, music is everything.

Drawn to You - lulullawrence (8k)

It had started with Louis getting in trouble for coloring on himself when he hadn’t touched a felt tip pen the entire day. Through the years, the random drawings had evolved and changed. There was a period in sixth form when his soulmate must have gotten shy or something, because the drawings only happened after school hours and in places that others wouldn’t be as likely to see. The inside of his bicep, his thigh. A couple times he even had drawings appear on his ribcage. While he didn’t mind those few years, he did seem somewhat soothed when they began to appear on his left arm again. He’d missed them.

Or that completely self indulgent soulmates au that plays out in not always romantic ways.

i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved - werebothstubborn (8k)

Louis manages to look apologetic as he licks slobbery circles around Harry's palm until he lets go. “Pretend to be my boyfriend,” he says, dramatically gulping in as much air as he can breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Even Your Honey Dew - objectlesson (9k)

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious) - objectlesson (4k)

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Only One at the Finish Line - objectlesson (9k)

“What don’t I know?!” Louis shouts, and then Harry is rounding on him, close enough that he can feel the heat of his body, the rage and the glory and the pain of it so close that it blinds him.

“I want to be another alpha’s omega,” is what he says, and it comes out like something reckless, something wild. Like he doesn't care anymore if Louis hates him or not, if Louis understands, he just needs to speak his truth aloud to darkness, to the slender pines that surround them like a jury panel.

Take Me Under the Blue - objectlesson (19k)

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Life Saver - objectlesson (30k)

Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

you are half of me (and I am all for you) - angelichl (24k)

One Direction, an obscure indie rock band, is about to embark on their first cross-country tour, living out of Louis' beloved van named Patricia.

Harry is in love, and Louis is oblivious. Or is he?

Featuring skinny-dipping in Texas waterfalls, getting lost in the desert, stargazing under the New Mexico sky, performing in front of crowds that grow in size each night, and falling in love on the road during the greatest summer of their lives.

say that you can see me (i’ll speak up i swear) - coffeelouis (20k)

“Well, it’s not like anyone really RSVPs,” Liam defends when Harry turns back to him, “No one takes Facebook events seriously.” Harry rolls his eyes, still finding it within himself to get annoyed in his moment of panic. Liam has been complaining about the lack of accountability Facebook events have bred in their generation since their freshman year. Harry glances back to the gallery entrance. Yep, still there and moving closer.

“But aren’t you guys friends?” Harry asks, trying to convey the urgency in his tone.

“Well, I mean, I talk to him when he stops by the office for supplies sometimes,” Liam reasons, “But I wouldn’t say we’re friends, exactly. Maybe more like, friendly acquaintances?”

[or, the liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.]

Let Our Hearts Collide - crinkle-eyed-boo (76k)

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU

Head Over Heels - Sasparella76 (26k)

Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are both up and coming editors at Cowell Publishing. Louis thinks Harry is brilliant at his job and beyond gorgeous. It’s just a pity that Harry is also the most annoying man Louis has ever met.

just one look (and i fell so hard) - disgruntledkittenface (15k)

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

Golden Like Sands of Time - afirethatcannotdie (51k)

“You need to change this one,” Zayn says, pointing to number six. “It’s unrealistic. It needs to be something you can actually achieve.” “What’s unachievable about a summer romance?” Harry asks, offended. “Nothing, it’s just… what if it doesn’t happen?” Harry pouts. He can totally have a summer romance. It’s just about finding the right person. “What about… kiss a stranger?” "Perfect."

waiting for the tides to meet - anonymous (60k)

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Lightning Strikes Twice - dinosaursmate (104k)

Louis slipped his hand onto Harry’s thigh, snaking his fingers up and inwards. “I’m a big fan. You’re so talented, and I have to admit that I actually fancy you a bit.” “Yeah?” Harry reached up to push Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “Well, you know, I like to try and be accommodating to my fans.” “You’re quite well known for that,” Louis whispered as he turned his head some more, their mouths an inch apart. “So I hear.” --- Rock star Harry Styles was nineteen when he met Louis, a groupie with a huge heart that Harry couldn’t quite shake from his mind. Fate granted him a second chance at the age of sixty, his washed up and lonely existence being transformed by a widower with a bookshop.

Make Tea, Not War - adventuring + howdoyouwhisk (20k)

"Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?"

"Nope!"

Or: Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head! - lesbianharrie + wreckingtomlinson (22k)

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.”

Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat - angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

Life At Shutter Speed - zarah5 (20k)

AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

stars are guiding me back - coffeelouis (80k)

Directing the first ever season of The Bachelor with a bisexual star is a huge career move for Louis. After throwing himself into his career, he finally has the opportunity to prove himself as a director with a unique vision.

For Harry, being cast as the first ever Bi Bachelor means finally putting his ex-boyfriend behind him and starting anew. He's taking a chance on finding love and determined to do it right this time.

Light My Morning Sky - withthethieves (54k)

The relatively cliché University AU in which Louis happens to be proficient in Philosophy, Ethics, and keeping his distance, while Harry is in need of a tutor to salvage his grade, and never passes up on a challenge; Zayn and Liam like to gaze wantonly across at each other whilst pretending to read Austen; and Niall is the precarious bond that holds them all together.

Saw It In Your Eyes - taggiecb (15k)

Harry Styles counts himself extremely lucky that he has landed such a great roommate. It doesn’t bother him at all that his new roommate is gay. In fact, they get along so well that they have formed an extremely close friendship that takes up pretty much all his free time. When Louis starts bringing a new guy home with him, Harry is surprised by how much it bothers him. Is he not as okay as he thought he was with Louis’ sexuality?

Push My Buttons - KrisStylinson (2k)

“Fuck off.” Louis leans into this boy’s personal space just to show how unaffected he is, even if it is technically a bluff. “My team’s winning.”

The boy crowds right back into him with a smug look, and that turns out to be their downfall—a large man to his left nudges his arm and gestures to the jumbotron, where Louis and fucking Newsboy are currently encased in a cartoon heart with the words KISS CAM burning brightly above them.

Paper Houses - allwaswell16 (11k)

When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything. He definitely never suspects he will fall so hard and so fast for Harry Styles. When reality begins to interfere, their relationship is put to the test.

Not The Desperate Type -lululawrence (6k)

It sounded like the guy was actually moving furniture above him as he was sweeping now. Damn. Did Louis miss the seven minutes in heaven or was the guy angry because he didn’t even get that much pleasure today?

“I’m kinda afraid with the amount of noise he produces while cleaning that one day I’m gonna look up through my ceiling and be able to see him.”

“Tell him we wish him a better sex life and that we’re rooting for him if you do.”

Or the one where Louis' neighbor has a series of unfortunately short sexual experiences and Louis can hear every. Single. One.

Can We Talk For A Moment? - lululawrence (16k)

It was widely known that alphas were never as common as betas or omegas. It is believed the reasoning for that was safety for their packs. Each pack could only have one Alpha, and in order to keep order and make sure there was no mistaking who was in power, once the successor had been named, other alphas would be forced out of the pack.

Harry didn’t care for the reasons behind the phenomenon. In the end, it didn’t really matter. All he knew was he was the only alpha within about a thousand mile radius, and he was a complete and total disappointment.

Or the one where Harry is a shy, nerdy alpha, Louis is a loud omega punk, and there's more to both of them than their reputations.

UNFINISHED

awake and unafraid - you_explode (102k) - UNFINISHED

It's 2007, Harry's seventeen, his favourite band is My Chemical Romance, and he's in love with his best friend.

Peaches and Cream - seducedbycurls (65k)

The study was to see if two strangers could live together for a month and fall in love.

“We are a new organization working to prove that love can do extraordinary things.” “You will do everything together & you are not allowed to leave the resort for the whole month.” “We want to prove that opposites attract.”

Louis is allergic to peaches, Harry smells like peaches. Louis just came for the money.

Take Me As I Am - lovelarry10 (118k)

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

Mirror Touch - pinky_heaven19 (58k)

“You know I can see colors in sounds, right?”

Harry nods, confused as Louis knew he would be.

“Well, I have another type of synesthesia, called mirror-touch. Have you heard of it?”

Harry shakes his head, and Louis can feel the tenseness in his shoulders and jaws slacking a little at the unexpected topic.

“It means I feel what other people feel. Literally, all the time.”

OR the one where Harry owns a second-hand clothing store, and Louis is a radio host. Louis has mirror-touch synesthesia, which makes him experience what people around him feel. He feels a lot around Harry.

[itsanerdlife]

Dealers Choice 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Swearing. Fifty Shades of Grey jokes. Mentions of murder. Mentions of parental abuse. Mentions of drug use and hookers.

Your father had always been into bad shit, it’s what got your mother killed when you were five and your brother in an out of jail, doing his dealings. When the new King of the streets, Steve Rogers, takes over he threatens the lively hood your father is dependent on. When he finds your father’s in deep with his one weakness, gambling, Steve comes to play for keeps. Looking to walk away clean, your father bets something big, the only thing he has left. You. And he fucking loses. Now you belong to a Crime Lord. Things can’t get much worse, I mean it’s not like you’ll fall in love with him, right?

“What is with you? You haven’t been returning my texts.” Nat groans as you join her, coffee in your hand.

“I dropped my phone in the water last night, playing with Dodger on the beach.” You shrug.

“You ruined your phone?” Buck looks at you confused.

“Yeah, it wasn’t savable.” You shrug. “Oh well.” You wave it off. “Oh by the way, Bucky, Wanda and Nat.” You introduce your friends to him.

“I was starting to think the King had hacked you into pieces.” Nat links arms with you, ignoring the chuckle from Buck.

“Actually he’s pretty great.” You shrug, trying to not grin.

“Like this kind of thing can happen more?” Wanda perks up.

“You’re allowed over anytime I want you over.” You nod.

“Hello, beach bitch.” Nat laughs.

“I was thinking for my birthday we’d start off with breakfast and the beach. Well it was Steve’s idea, but I like it. We can just go as we feel like it.” You shrug.

“Yes, laying on the beach for your birthday sound amazing.” Wanda grins, before Nat pulls you into a shop suddenly.

 “So what’s with the fine ass beef candy out there?” Nat asks from the dressing room next to yours. Wanda on the other side of you laughs.

“Not really sure. I didn’t pester him about it. He’s a very nice guy, more approachable than the guy who picked me up and drove me there my first day.” You laugh.

“Frank. He’s military, he’s always like that.” A male voice calls back, you pause in the middle of putting a dress on, your eyes darting around the dressing room you were in. You pull the dress down, ripping back the curtain, Buck is leaning on the opening of the dressing room area.

“One.” You hold a finger. “Creepy the way you just appear out of nowhere.” You hold up another finger. “Two. Why are you listening?” You cock your eyebrow at him.

“You should get that dress, it looks good on you.” He eyes the little black slip dress you had pulled on.

“You’re still creepy.” You shake your head, yanking the curtain back.

“So come over? Tomorrow?” You look at Wanda. “You can bring what little of my stuff is at your place. We could have lunch and lay on the beach.” You grin at her.

“You know if you’re spending so much time on the beach, you’re going to need a new suit.” Nat sighs, with a grin, pulling you by the hand.

“Oh god.” You laugh.

“She right.” Bucky chuckles, you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

“Fine. But I have another stop I have to make.” You chew your bottom lip eyeing the boutique up the street.

“Next, next. Suit first.” Wanda giggles, as Nat pulls you from the shop.

 “Red, or black?” Nat calls out of the dressing room at Bucky.

“Red doll.” He chuckles.

“Told you.” She sasses you.

“You know I don’t know about this one.” You shake your head looking at the bikini you had on in the mirror of the dressing room.

“Get them both.” Bucky calls.

“Don’t encourage the spending Bucky!” You yell back, he laughs.

“You haven’t made a dent in what he made just this morning.” He replies.

“Fuck.” You groan, that was disgusting. You had no idea what you actually spent but by the arm load of bags Bucky was carrying and had placed in the car trunk you’d spent more than you’d seen in your life. Steve made a disgusting amount of money, and he only encouraged you to spend it.

“Y/N.” Buck calls.

“Yes?” You poke your head out of the curtain, he’s looking at his phone.

“Black, gold, pink, white, or red?” He looks from the phone to you.

“For what?” Your brow crinkles.

“Pick a color nosey.” He chuckles.

“Gold, or red.” You sigh, glaring at him before you turn away again.

“I’ll stay out here on this one.” Buck nods, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket.

“I’ll try not to be long.” You nod, stepping into the risqué and lacy store.

“Thank god, it’s about time you upgrade.” Nat grins.

“I broke the strap on my good bra this morning.” You shrug.

“What are you wearing now?” Nat peers at the scoop neck, red crop top you had on, with your little white shorts and red chucks.

“The one two sizes too small.” You laugh.

“That’s why you look all.” Wanda nods towards your chest.

“I’m falling out of the thing I know. Shut up and help me pick new ones.” You push them towards the bra section.

“I say matching sets.” Nat nods, looking from the Bra’s to the pantie section.

“Kill me now, let’s do this.” You groan.

“Did you have fun?” Steve grins, slipping into the backseat of the BMW with her.

“It was fun. It was nice being around my friends.” She nods, smiling at him.

“Did you get lots of things?” He grins smugly.

“I hate for you to see what is in the truck of this car.” She laughs, flushing read.

“That makes me happy.” He smiles, nodding.

“Oh she did very good today.” Buck replies from the front.

“Oh even a report card.” She laughs.

“Join me for lunch? Perhaps you’ll show me some of the things you picked out.” He watches her flush, sighing.

“I don’t think you have enough time in your day to see all that.” She laughs.

“We’ve got time, if not today, over the rest of our time.” He nods, she pinks grinning to herself as she looks out the window.

 “You weren’t kidding.” Steve laughs as they watch Bucky and Sam carry bags and bags up the stairs to her room.

“Okay. Rule.” She swats at him playfully. “You tell me to spend your money, you don’t get to make those types of comments, or I return it all.” He laughs.

“Okay, okay.” He grins at her. “Wine?” He pulls the bottle she’d been drinking from the night before from the fridge.

“Oh yes.” She walks over, pulling out a wine glass from the rack. “Oh, Wanda is coming over tomorrow. Just so you know.” She watches him fill the glass.

“I’ll tell the boys to be on their best behavior.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” She sips from the glass.

“Boss?” Sam stops in front of the kitchen door. Holding a white apple bag and another behind it. “Where did you want this to go?” He smirks at Y/N, who watches him intently from around her wine glass.

“Bring them here, please.” He puts the wine back, walking back to the island.

“What are those?” She peers at him from across the counter between them.

“Your new phone and laptop.” He doesn’t look up, he hears her mutter something under her breath.

“I have a phone.” She replies smoothly.

“I heard you dropped it in the water last night with Dodger.” He looks up grinning smug.

“Bucky.” She calls at he walks by once more. He pauses looking in, she snatches several grapes off the counter, pelting them at him. “Big mouth!” She yells as he moves from the doorway laughing, having used her shopping bags as a shield.

“Oh should I mention the risqué little shop you walked into today?” Bucky laughs jogging up the stairs.

“Fucker!” She yells, bright red, picking up her glass she takes large drinks.

“Interesting shopping trip indeed.” He chuckles, pulling the boxes out of the bags.

“I’m going to need more wine living in this house.” She nods, setting down her glass she walks to the fridge, pulling out the bottle. “How classy am I supposed to be around you?” She turns looking at him as the fridge door closes. He looks up at her, confused. “I really want to drink this straight from the bottle.” She holds up the half drank wine bottle, he laughs.

“Trying to get drunk before lunch?” He smirks at her.

“Fine, from the glass, but the bottle stays out.” She nods heading for her glass again.

“So you tell him about the swim suits?” Buck leans on the doorway grinning. When Steve looks over at her, her mouth opens, nothing comes out and she snaps it shut again. Nodding she pulls the cork from the bottle and brings it to her lips.

“This house just got very interesting.” He chuckles, plugging her new phone in, waiting for it to start up.

Updated List: @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked   @mo320   @rileyloves5   @irepeldirt   @pcterpvrker   @tequilavet   @crazy-little-thing-called-buck   @lovemarvelousfics   @wildefire   @bluephoenix394   @dystanie-h   @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19   @violinbetty   @jcc04220   @petersunderroos   @mariekoukie6661   @winterboobaer   @girlwith100names   @lumelgy   @sarahp879   @white-chocolate-mocha-fan   @palaiasaurus64   @ria132love   @bucky-bear-barnes   @jimmyisfab   @capsheadquaters   @pigwidgexn   @ssweet-empowerment   @mustbenot  @whenallsaidanddone   @geeksareunique   @i-love-superhero   @supernatural-girl97   @nerdyandexhausted   @elle88531   @hunter-demigod-timelord   @qnzdiamond104   @coley0823   @justmeinthisworldblr   @orange-jps3497   @littlenerdgirl16   @thefridgeismybestie     @breezy1415   @angelicstormz   @rockagurl   @angelicstormz     @lilmissperfectlyimperfect   @kgbrenner   @kapolisradomthoughts   @importanttimemachinenerd     @s8sense   @kingarthurofslytherin     @shliic   @itsemmyb   @lesmiserablememelovingfuck    @importanttimemachinenerd   @wearegoldeninthenight   @teenagetragediesforeveryone   @iamwarrenspeace  

Steve Only: @fandom-queen-of-hearts   @jjsoccer11     @dreamer-at-risk   @elitafuckingone     @imabrooklynbaby  @our-chaoticwhispers   @patzammit   @kazuha159     @yourtropegirl  @mooniessuniverse  

Dealers Choice: @lucifersnipnips   @mythrealfan     @mellxander1993   @royallyslow     @dasanih20    @fandomsstolemylife00     @realclassy1324   @nerdypisces160   @qnzdiamond104    @sweet-honey15   @koizorahana    @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme   @1-fighting-dreamer   @zigadaba-stitch   @cs-please   @demonic-meatball     @thinkpretty-blog   @its-tchalla   @jboofanpage   @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory     @tchallaholla   @crazyblonde124   @red-writer13    @i-have-a-wonky-eye-too   @letmebeyoursforever  

[mirrorballparkers]

picture day — peter parker

requested: anon

tagged: @ttholland>@clubparker@spideysensesparker @spideysensesparker

summary: you decide to wear one of peter’s shirts for picture day, causing nothing but cute fluff between you and you’re beautiful boyfriend.

warnings: LOTS of fluff, you know what it isssss :’)

“Why don’t I have at least one cute thing in my closet?” you whined in annoyance after throwing another piece of clothing on the ground. Picture day was by far your least favorite day of the year, and that’s exactly what today was. The struggle of your hair not being frizzy, to finding the perfect outfit - it was the worst day, a day that should not exist. Every year you had a horrible picture that was plastered in the yearbook forever, making you a lot more insecure about your appearance than you were before. You were far from photogenic. It didn’t help that your mom felt obligated to buy the picture every single year and framing them in the living room as if it were some masterpiece.

Eyes scanning your closet, nearly losing all hope and thinking why don’t i just say i’m sick and skip school, you land on the perfect shirt. You borrowed your boyfriend Peter’s clothes often, loving the sweet scent they had, hardly ever feeling lonely when wearing them. You had at least 4 of his sweatshirts and t-shirts, all of them stolen which led to you getting texts saying: ‘babe did u take my red hoodie????? I can’t find it.’

His red flannel was by far your favorite. It was the first article of clothing that you ever borrowed of his, being very special to you - you stole it. He literally doesn’t know why half his damn wardrobe is missing. Such a clueless, sweet boy.

“Perfect.” You smiled, holding the article of clothing to your chest, taking in the scent of your boyfriend, and put on the flannel, not even thinking that Peter would notice. It won’t make a difference, you thought.

**

“Oh, my god, i look horrible.” you exclaim, holding your new ID card that had your picture displayed on it, walking out of the cafeteria where picture day took place. It was by far the worst picture you have ever taken. Your hair gotten frizzy due to the gloomy weather, eyebrows looked wonky, and you absolutely hated the way your smile looked.  I swear the flannel was going to help. It definitely did not help.  Why is my life so messy, like my hair.

“You look fine, dude. Don’t worry.” Your friend assures you. The only thing you were worried about was Peter seeing how awful you looked. Not that he’d break up with you or anything, because homeboy was way too in love with you, but it was embarrassing and you just wanted to delete the photo from your memories and the world.  “I can’t let Peter see this. Never. I look so gross.” You say running your hand through your hair, wishing the photo would burn into a million pieces as you and your friend walk the nearly empty halls.

“Have fun stopping him from doing so,” you turned around to see Peter walking towards you with a sweet smile on his face. It was mid afternoon, and the poor boy hadn’t seen his favorite person all morning. He was especially excited to see your new ID photo. Your friend slowly and awkwardly walks away, muttering something about having to go wash their cat. Bitch, you’re allergic to cats. 

You mentally throw your shoe at her before walking closer to your boyfriend, very nervous.

“Hi,” You greeted him timidly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey, you. Where have you been all day?” Peter said pulling you into a soft hug. You couldn’t help but smile in the hug, immediately feeling secure and safe in his strong arms.“Sorry, I wasn’t avoiding you on purpose, just was caught up in the whole picture day thing.” You wish you didn’t even mention that, because you knew that this boy would now bug you until you let him see your ID picture. Why can’t you shut your fucking mouth for once, dude.

“Aw, wait speaking of, I wanna see!” Peter pleads after pulling away from the embrace.

“Um, see..what now?” You questioned dumbstruck Maybe he would forget it was picture day?? Peter laughed lightly and raised an eyebrow, “Your ID card, dork. I wanna see how cute you look!”

 You simply shake your head, still trying to showcase the what are you talking about thing. Wasn’t working, your boyfriend wasn’t an idiot.

“What ID card…?” You asked slowly, earning a playful eye roll from the boy in front of you. This isn’t going well, fuck.

“The one in your hand. Again, you’re a dork. “ He pointed down at your left hand that clutched your ID card. 

You cheeks went a soft rose color, now holding it to your chest while softly shaking your head. “No, no,” you spoke softly, “I, um, don’t want you to see it…” you muttered, embarrassed.

“Wait, why?” Peter asked, frowning. You shrug, not looking him in the eyes. 

“Here,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his new ID. “Look at mine then.” He handed it to you, allowing you to take a look at it. He looked absolutely adorable, as always. He was so photogenic, it was like he could never look bad in person or in a picture. You, on the other hand, looked like a burnt piece of toast that has been stepped on multiple times.

“You look so cute, Peter. I love it.” You spoke, making the brown eyed boy in front of you smile as bright as the sun.“Thanks, but I’m sure it has nothing on yours.” Peter smiled as you handed it back to him.

“Guess we’ll never know.” You say, making Peter more and more impatient, which you had to admit was adorable.

“Awww, come on pretty girl, stop being all shy and lemme see it!” he whined, “I just wanna see my love!” As much as your heart melted at that entire sentence, you still were the stubborn girl Peter knew very well, and you shook your head yet again.

“You’re looking at my right now, isn’t that enough?” You responded in a teasing tone. Peter just rolled his eyes, and brought his hands to your sides causing you to get very giggly and very ticklish. It was one of your biggest weaknesses, and one of Peter’s favorite things. He loved your laugh so much. It was so bright and cute that it usually made him giggle himself

.“Peter- oh my god, no babe pl- stop” you pleaded in between breathes, your entire face red. Peter quickly stops, still slightly giggling, seeing that you’re still laughing your ass off, and saw it as the perfect opportunity to snatch your ID from your hands. You gasp, giving up completely, dropping your face into your hands. Great, I’m dead now.

“Don’t look at it,babe!” It was already in his hands, like that was helpful. Peter didn’t answer, his eyes fixated on what he considered actual art. He was so mesmerized by your natural beauty. You look down, fiddling your hands and feeling slightly insecure. Is he about to break up with me due to my ugliness? Why is this cutie taking so long, what the fuck?

“I told you i look ugly..” You said quietly. Peter looked up, “What? No, you don’t - you look so cute!” he assured you sweetly, looking down again and smiling even more, causing you to blush “Aw, i can’t get over how cute my girl is - wait a minute, i-  babe.. is that my shirt?,“ he questioned with an amused smile on his face. 

Your eyes slightly widen, okay why is he just now noticing that? “Um, yeah - i can give it back if you want i-i’m sorry.” You muttered, now very flustered and nearly ashamed, you cover your flushed face with your hands, completely forgetting that you wore one of his flannels. 

“What? No, no - oh my god, no. Please don’t apologize, you look so cute and beautiful.” Peter rambled, removing your hands from your face. You still avoided eye contact with him, and he just thought you were the sweetest, most adorable little sunshine. “Hey, look at me,” He said, cupping your pink cheeks. “You’re beautiful.” You groan, still very flustered, and bury your face in his shoulder. 

Peter practically melted at this. He loved that he had this effect on you, it made him feel all giddy and mushy inside. “Holy crap, pretty girl - stop being so cute. It’s making me flustered.” He gushed, causing you to giggle slightly.

 “Glad I can make you all blushy, my love.” You giggled, booping his cute little nose, then reaching up to fluff his hair and messing it up, which always drove the poor thing crazy. 

Considering he did all this for you.Peter whined, “aww baby not the hair, please..!” he pouted making you laugh even more, which made him fall for you even fucking harder.

“But, real talk: keep the flannel. Looks a lot better on you than it does me.” Peter states before kissing the top of your head, making your heart explode.

“Don’t worry, spider boy, I’ll always keep your shirts warm.”

[notarelationship]

Clinging to This Hating Game 7/?

For the @prompt-a-klainefic blog’s 2017 Reverse Bang

Link to the art by @datshitrandom

the prompt:

Kurt and Blaine couldn’t stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school.

High School AU, Cheerio!Kurt, Jock!Blaine Rating: Explicit Warnings (for the story overall):  some bullying and homophobic language, teenage sex Word Count: ~5700 (this chapter)

Extra special thanks this time to my beta,

@mshoneysucklepink

​, who made critical suggestions to this chapter.

Everything wonky is my fault.

AO3 link Chapter 7

On tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

Notes:

The next time I estimate how many chapters something will be while I'm still writing it, feel free to laugh in my face.

And if you were waiting for the chapter to meet the explicit rating, wait no more...

No other specific warnings. Maybe boys being idiots.

-

Chapter 7

“Kurt I swear I had no idea,” Mercedes hissed under her breath.

Apparently not quietly enough because Blaine chuckled across the table. Kurt could feel his face heat up, and not just because of embarrassment. Blaine had been cute in high school; Kurt was attracted to him from the moment he spotted him in that frat house, before they’d even officially met. After they were unexpectedly thrown together Kurt had found himself drawn to both the scruffy football version as well as the more dapper, prep-school Blaine that had started to emerge as their time at McKinley had ended. But all grown up? All the hints Blaine had shown of his potential for old-Hollywood handsome had bloomed into one very attractive and well put together adult. Kurt would have checked him out thoroughly if he’d been a stranger.

“You can imagine how shocked I was when Mercedes showed up at the restaurant,” Blaine said, eyes twinkling. “Then when she said you were meeting us -” Blaine scratched at his temple. “Well, I confess I was even more shocked.”

“Hmm, I suppose it’s a good idea that this was a blind date then,” Kurt said. He tried to be flirty, like he would be on any date, but he could tell it came out a little too icily and Blaine’s pleased expression slipped for just a moment. Kurt bit back a grimace. “I only meant,” Kurt faltered, “expectations can play games with you.”

Blaine audibly sucked in a breath through his nose, lifting his chin a fraction in Kurt’s direction. “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Blaine said. “It’s not often you get set up with your high school rival.”

Kurt wondered if Blaine would have come if he’d known it was Kurt he’d be dining with. Or if he himself would have agreed to it if he’d known it was Blaine. Sitting here across the table from him now he still wasn’t sure. He felt like such a different person now than he had been in high school; he could give Blaine as much credit as he’d expect to get.

“Oh my god, high school was forever ago.” Kurt attempted to wave away awkwardness with a laugh. “Water under the bridge.” He could see Blaine force a smile at him from across the table, but he appeared relieved.

“Not wearing your Cheerio uniform anymore I see?” Blaine teased.

“No, no Cheerio uniform,” Kurt answered, forcing a smile. Then, before he could stop himself, “I see you’re still sporting Brooks Brothers - even if a more sophisticated version.” Something flashed dark in Blaine’s eyes, but he pasted on a smile in an instant.

“Hey man,” Sam interrupted. “As much fun it sounds to rehash your old high school rivalry, I'm hungry.” He tapped at his menu.

That got Kurt’s attention, and he shook his head once and smiled at Sam, ignoring the flush that crawled up his neck and hoping everyone else would too. He wasn't sure how he felt when he noticed Blaine’s cheeks coloring as well across the table.

“Yes, yes of course,” Kurt said and took a sip of water to give himself a minute to collect himself. There was no reason Blaine should get under his skin at this point. He was far from the eager, blushing virgin he’d been when he and Blaine first encountered each other.

“It’s great to finally meet you, Kurt,” Sam said. “Of course, Blaine used to talk - ow! Dude!” Sam gave Blaine a harsh look.

“What?” Blaine looked at Sam with an innocently puzzled expression.

Sam rolled his eyes at Blaine. “Whatever.” He turned back to Kurt.

“You know, before you got here Mercedes was telling us about how you guys reconnected so long after high school, maybe you and Blaine can bury the - shit!” The table shifted and both Blaine and Sam’s water toppled to the table.

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing as Sam made a ‘wtf?’ gesture at Blaine and righted the glasses, mopping up as much water as he could before the waiter came and took over.

‘Like I said earlier, high school is - thankfully - in the past.” Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was looking at Kurt now with a wary curiosity as the waiter fussed around him. “How long have you and Blaine known each other?” he asked, once the table had been put back together.

“Oh, wow.” Sam paused, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, we’ve been friends since sixth grade. ”

“Oh really? That’s a long time.” Kurt looked between the two men. Blaine had gone quiet, and was staring at a spot on the tablecloth. Blaine had obviously mentioned Kurt to Sam at some point in their past. “So you know all of Blaine’s secrets, I imagine?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Sam smirked, and Kurt realized that Sam probably knew everything. If that was true he was the only one who did. This was not a conversational road Kurt wanted to travel tonight.

“So what brings you to New York, Blaine?” Kurt changed the subject. Somehow talking about Blaine was easier than talking about himself. And wasn’t that strange. “When Mercedes roped me into this she mentioned that Sam’s roommate had only just moved to New York.”

Blaine chuckled, blushing just a little. “I um, I opened the Chicago cast of School of Rock last year, and they just moved me to Broadway. I start at the Winter Garden in two weeks.”

Kurt sat up. “Wow. That's impressive.” Kurt was surprised that the idea of Blaine on Broadway didn’t even make him jealous. He’d been lucky since graduating from Tisch and he had plenty on his plate right now.

Blaine shrugged. “It's kind of an old show at this point, but it still has ticket sales for the next year. I just hope I don't screw it up for the next guy.”

“Who knows?” Kurt said. “Maybe they'll keep you on for a while?” Blaine shrugged again, but his eyes were trained on Kurt in a way that, if this had been an actual date, would have given Kurt a lot of ideas about what they would be doing after dessert. Or possibly instead of. But it wasn’t an actual date. “I’m sure you’re a great Dewey.” Kurt grinned. “You’ve got the hair for it.”

“You’ve done pretty well, I think?” Blaine said. “Can I ask you how you hooked up with Saturday Night Live? How do you even get an audition for that?”

He shouldn’t be surprised that Blaine knew this, SNL was a huge show. Still, it felt a little bit gratifying to know that Blaine had paid some attention to his career.

“Well my amazing lack of an ability to be cast in more traditional roles carried on into NYU,” Kurt started. Blaine frowned and looked guiltily at Kurt. Maybe this wasn’t as neutral a topic as Kurt expected. “It’s not - It’s fine, you know. I know that I don’t pass as well as some other actors. I’ve accepted as much of that reality as I can, I guess. I’m never going to play a straight romantic lead, and there aren’t enough gay ones yet to keep us all employed.” Kurt smirked, trying to play it off as a joke, but Blaine shifted in his chair, reaching for his wine.

“It’s not really fair though, is it.” The way Blaine said it made it clear that it wasn’t a question.

“No, but that hasn’t seemed to be much of an issue for you.” Blaine looked stricken, and Kurt could hear Mercedes sharp inhale next to him. Kurt instantly regretted saying it. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t fair either.”

“We’re all battling something, I think,” Blaine offered, some of the shock draining from his face, but Kurt still felt bad. “So, um, go on, please.”

Kurt glanced at Mercedes, who gave a quick nod for him to go on. “Okay, well, I connected with an off campus improv group over that first summer, and I spent lot of time with them. It was amazing and I learned so much from just being on a stage every night, in front of people. And it turned out I was good at it.”

“That does not surprise me at all,” Blaine said. “You’ve always been very in the moment. I mean in your performances.” Blaine fiddled with the stem of his glass. “From what I remember, anyway,” he finished weakly, glancing at the table and then back at Kurt.

Blaine was looking at him so intensely now that it was Kurt’s turn to shift uncomfortably. There had been more than one time in high school when he had seen that look on Blaine’s face. He wasn’t sophisticated enough to be able to read it then. But he could read it now. “Thank you.”

Appetizers arrived, and the waiter refilled their wine glasses. Kurt was grateful for the time to compose himself.

“Ooh! Tell him about your plays,” Mercedes said. “Kurt writes plays, good ones,” she went on. “He’s had two of them produced just before the SNL gig came up.”

“Wow, really?” Blaine lit up, and the tension from before dissipated. “Maybe, if you have some time, you can give me some recommendations for some smaller productions. I have a couple weeks to kill before I have to start and I was hoping to get in as many different theater experiences as I can before my time is no longer my own.”

Kurt agreed to give Blaine some recommendations, and went on to tell the story of how someone from the SNL cast was in his second play, which started the long and winding road to him getting a shot to write for the show. By his sixth episode he was appearing in crowd skits, and he was asked to join the cast just before his second year when a couple of long time cast members decided not to return.

“That’s really amazing Kurt. Congratulations.” Blaine raised his half empty glass in a toast, smiling pleasantly at Kurt. “It’s well deserved.”

The four of them chatted amiably through the rest of the meal. Kurt was happy to find that Sam was obviously smitten with Mercedes, so he could stop worrying about her.

“Have you heard from Rachel lately?” Blaine asked. “I mean, after that whole NYADA debacle.” Blaine made a horrified face.

Kurt bristled. He didn’t want to - he had been lucky not to get into NYADA, ultimately, but for some reason it remained a sore spot. Even after it was exposed as a scam school, defrauding its students and their parents out of millions of dollars before its lack of accreditation was made public. Kurt had had to live through the school’s unmasking every step of the way as Rachel scrambled to come up with alternatives. In the end she just packed up and moved to Los Angeles, but a lot of other students hadn’t been so lucky.

“She’s doing great, she’s in LA, getting a lot of guest spots on various television series, but hasn’t landed a permanent role yet.”

“I guess you really dodged a bullet there,” Blaine said.

“Not like I was exactly placed in the line of fire, was I?” Kurt felt surly all of a sudden. “You know, I think I’ll skip dessert, if it’s all the same to everyone.”

“‘Line of fire?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaine sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised and obviously offended.

“Kurt, they have cheesecake.” Mercedes pointed to the dessert menu, her eyes narrowed in a warning. Kurt knew her well enough to know she was irritated at him. “It’s supposed to be amazing.”

Kurt tuned Mercedes out. “It means that if anyone dodged a bullet it was you, going to Pittsburgh instead.”

“Kurt, you can’t still be sour about NYADA rejecting you, come on! They were a total Ponzi scheme.”

Sam looked puzzled. “What is that? Is that like one of those witches covens?”

Blaine’s attention shifted to Sam. “No Sam, they weren’t witches. But they did charge their students a lot of money and didn’t actually teach them anything. Or give them a degree.”

“Yeah, well finding out you were rejected not because of talent, but because they figured out your dad couldn’t afford tuition, room, and board, didn’t exactly make me feel better.” Kurt crossed his arms and huffed as he leaned back in his chair.

“And you think knowing they only offered me based on my family’s finances made me feel great about it?” Blaine said.

Sam motioned for the check. “Mercedes, I saw a great ice cream place on the corner, would you like to split a sundae?” He looked at Kurt and Blaine, who were now silently glaring at one another. “Just the two of us?”

“Sam, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Sam went to pull out Mercedes chair; as she stood up, she stared down Kurt with a look that made him suddenly feel like a huge jerk.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed at her.

Mercedes grabbed Kurt’s arm as he stood, holding him a step back as Sam and Blaine walked toward the exit. “I don’t think it’s me you owe an apology to, Kurt. Although you can buy me brunch on Sunday and we will discuss what the hell you think you were doing tonight.”

Once they had exited the restaurant, Sam hugged Blaine, then turned and shook Kurt’s hand. “Kurt, again it was nice meeting you. Good to put a face to all the stories I’ve heard.” Kurt blushed as Sam winked at him again, and his stomach dropped. Sam probably had the whole list of Blaine’s conquests memorized so he could keep track when Blaine ranked them on gay-bro night. Kurt watched Sam turn and offer his arm to Mercedes; as she took it, she turned and looked over her shoulder one last time at Kurt and Blaine, who both stood on the sidewalk, not looking at each other.

She whispered loudly, “Y’all better settle your business and make peace, you hear me?”

Kurt kicked the sidewalk, watching Mercedes and Sam walk away. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“She’s your friend, Kurt.” Blaine stood with his hands in his pockets, head cocked to one side. “And I’m pretty sure she watched us both behave like children for a large portion of this evening, so she kinda does.”

Kurt didn’t really want the answer to the next question. He wasn’t even sure why it mattered at this point. “So how much does Sam actually know?”

“Sam knows everything, he knows everything about me.” Blaine paused, rubbing his hands over his face. “He knows I met you before I transferred. And he knows, well, we have a little history. ” His voice was strangled. “I talked to him a lot during that year at McKinley. It wasn’t the best time for me either you know.”

“Oh god.”

“He’s my best friend Kurt, you’ll have to excuse me if I told him things that happened in my life.” Blaine paced in a circle. “There were times when he was the only person who cared!”

Kurt scoffed. “You had a lot of friends, if I remember correctly.”

“People liked me, yes. But that’s because I never challenged anything they thought. I didn’t stand up for myself, not at school. I did what was expected of me to fit in. That’s how I got by. Being popular is different than having friends who actually understand you. I was pretty sure you understood that, even then.” Blaine threw his arms up. “It was forever ago, Kurt. And you hated me back then!”

Kurt was silent. He’d heard people say, more than once, that the scars of high school really do fade once you get away. Even after only a few years Kurt could look back with clearer eyes on the whole experience. Everyone struggled, he realized that now even if he couldn’t then. Blaine just seemed to bring out his bitchy side.

“I didn't hate you.”

Blaine was looking at Kurt like he’d started speaking a foreign language. “Oh my god were you not there? You were so mean to me Kurt.” Blaine was staring at him, his eyes all hurt and pleading, and definitely something more.

“You made everything so much more difficult.” Kurt hugged himself as they stood on the New York street, staring at each other. It was almost too much. “I was jealous. Everything had been so hard, and you showed up and it was like nothing I had done had mattered.” He sighed. “I guess nothing is ever really what it looks like, is it?”

Blaine shook his head, shrugged his whole body as he looked up at the sky then back at Kurt.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I really am,” Blaine said, sounding hopeless, then pleading, “I was just trying to get by.” He held a hand out in front of him, then dropped it to his side. “Like you.” Blaine paused again shaking his head. “God we can’t seem to get this right. If we could start over again maybe w -”

“We’d what Blaine? What could we have done differently?” Kurt didn’t know why he was continuing to have this - argument? discussion? Whatever it was, he knew he didn’t want to end it and have them both just walk away. Blaine was staring at him. Well, Blaine was staring at his mouth, open desire etched across his face. Kurt blinked. They were much closer than they had been just a moment ago.

“Kurt.” Blaine was breathing hard.

“Get a cab.”

Blaine spun on his heel and flung his arm out into the street. He opened the door of the taxi that pulled up to the curb so Kurt could get in, then climbed in beside him, slamming the door shut. The cab didn’t move.

The cab driver turned around and looked at them. “Where you headed?”

Blaine was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. “I'm sleeping on Sam’s pullout sofa.”

Kurt gave the driver his address.

They were silent in the cab, Kurt staring out the window while Blaine’s fingers tapped steadily on his knee, but once they were in the apartment and Kurt had locked the door Blaine grabbed him by the wrists and pushed him up against the door, sealing his mouth over Kurt’s with a grunt.

“I spent most of senior year thinking about you while I jerked off,” Blaine hissed. “It didn’t matter how much you hated me, I, god -” Kurt pushed his tongue into Blaine’s mouth, licking wildly. Blaine pinned Kurt's hands to either side of his head, hard against the door, so Kurt moved his hips against him, his own erection pressing eagerly against the front of his snug jeans. “I still think about you coming all over me in the back seat of that car, that noise you made, that first time? Still top three in my spank bank, Kurt.”

Kurt moaned as Blaine kissed across his jaw.

“What are the other two?” Kurt managed to gasp out, trying to maintain some control over himself. He was failing fast.

Blaine chuckled into his ear. “Those fucking pants you wore at the NYADA audition. My god I wanted to blow you so bad. I’d never -” Blaine moaned.

“I jerked myself raw that weekend thinking about you,” Kurt confessed as Blaine’s hips pressed him hard against the door. “I had to hide in my room and wear sweatpants for two days my dick was so sore. My dad thought I was sick.”

“Oh my god.” Blaine let go of one hand and reached to cup Kurt’s cock, rubbing hard against the material. He took Kurt’s hand and pressed it between his own legs, up against his erection.

Kurt panted into Blaine’s mouth. “That was the first time I ever, oh fuck, the first time I ever fingered myself.” Blaine whimpered.

“I’m gonna come Kurt, in my pants right here. Like a fucking teenager.”

“Ohmygod we should have done this in high school.” Kurt squeezed Blaine’s cock through his pants and he jerked closer. “I’m sorry I was such an ass to you,” he panted. “I had a lot of anger issues.”

Blaine ignored that as he huffed against Kurt’s neck, sucking hard below his ear, jerking Kurt off over his jeans. “Come on, come on Kurt.”

Kurt’s cock throbbed and he came with a choked off sob, soaking his underwear through to his jeans until Blaine was rubbing wet come around with his hand on the front of his pants. Blaine pushed his fingers underneath the waistband of Kurt's pants, fingering the soft, wet head of his cock until Kurt twitched away.

“Fuck. Your turn.” Kurt caught Blaine’s cheek with his free hand, holding his face still so he could bite Blaine’s bottom lip, rubbing his cock through the thick fabric of his suit. Blaine shuddered, coming with a long moan in his expensive wool trousers.

Kurt wanted to fall to the floor, but Blaine kept him pinned to the door as they both caught their breath and their senses. Kurt’s eyes darted around his dark apartment, waiting for Blaine to move. Blaine didn’t pull away, he pressed his mouth against Kurt’s neck with a gentle suck, kissing back across his jaw until Kurt tilted his head to kiss him back.

“Come on,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s mouth. “Shower.”

Kurt ignored the soggy mess in his pants, trying hard not to think about how that was one of the hottest things that had ever happened to him. New York had offered plenty of opportunities for Kurt to settle into himself, and his first two years of college he’d gotten some unexpectedly wild behavior out of his system. This night was promising to be up there.

When they got to the bathroom Kurt looked at himself in the mirror - there were marks on his neck and his skin was flushed from his collarbone to his ears. He peeled off his clothes, adding them to the pile Blaine had started on the floor. When he turned around Blaine was bent over the edge of his tub, completely naked, trying to turn the shower on. Kurt couldn’t stop a laugh from bubbling out.

“Everyone looks incompetent trying to work a strange shower,” Blaine said over his shoulder. “And I am nervous as fuck Kurt. How do you turn this thing on?” He stood and turned around, catching Kurt looking. “Are you staring at my ass?”

Kurt shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a nice ass.” Blaine ducked his head and blushed, moving aside as Kurt leaned in to turn on the shower. “You’re standing naked in my bathroom Blaine, don’t you think it’s a little late to be coy about it?”

Blaine crossed his arms across his chest and Kurt had to look away, fiddling with the water temperature to distract him from the naked man standing next to him. “I’m actually hoping that it’s not too late for a lot of things.”

In Kurt’s previous experiences showering with someone was always a little awkward at first; were you showering? Were you making out? How far did the other guy want to go? When were you supposed to ask? What if you had to call 911? Kurt still had visions of slipping in the middle of shower sex and having to explain to his dad what had happened. It was a lot to navigate.

He stepped into the shower, tugging Blaine behind him until they were both under the water, and Blaine didn’t give him a lot of time to ponder. He stepped into Kurt’s space, hands reaching for his face and pulling him into a heated kiss. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and went with it. This kiss was intense in a different way than the one at the door when they had come in. If Blaine had attacked his mouth before, now he was memorizing it.

“Wow,” he said, breathless once Blaine pulled away. Blaine kissed him again, a quick one as his hands worked their way to Kurt’s waist.

“Kurt, I need to ask -” Blaine ran his hands over Kurt’s sides as the water ran down his back. “Did you get taller?”

Kurt laughed and threw his head back under the water. Grinning he rested his forehead against Blaine’s. “Yes.

“How?”

“The puberty train hit me late. I had quite the growth spurt freshman year.”

“Well that seems rather unfair,” Blaine said, pecking him on the corner of his mouth. “And also insanely hot I’ve got to say.”

Kurt leaned into another kiss, then Blaine reached for the shower gel over Kurt’s shoulder and they actually took a few minutes to soap up and rinse off. Taking turns under the spray, they washed the product out of their hair. When they were finished Kurt reached his arms around Blaine and hauled him in for another kiss, this time letting his hands wander down to Blaine’s ass. Kurt slid slippery fingers between his cheeks, pressing lightly as Blaine moved closer with a soft oh okay. Kurt squeezed one thick cheek with his other hand and Blaine gasped.

“I have to be honest Blaine, I’m not sure I’d have known what to do with an ass like yours in high school, if we’d ever taken it that far.”

Blaine giggled against Kurt’s neck. “Are you sure you know what to do with it now?”

Blaine’s hips were working against Kurt and Kurt could see and feel Blaine starting to get hard again. Kurt wasn’t going to be far behind him. He grinned into a kiss, pulling Blaine’s cheeks apart while teasing one finger between them. “Uh huh.”

Kurt spun Blaine around until he was facing the shower wall, tilting the shower head so it wouldn’t rain on his face, and dropped to his knees. Blaine’s ass was so thick Kurt had to hold his cheeks open so he could get his tongue on Blaine’s hole. Normally he would have taken more time, teased his partner until his rim was twitching, begging for something inside it. But this time he wanted it more than he wanted to tease. He wanted to taste, to take, to leave a mark. He spread Blaine wider, frantically licking at his damp skin until he’d licked away the water and his crack was dripping with spit, his tiny hole puckering impatiently.

Blaine shifted, spreading his thighs in the small space, and Kurt sat back on his heels to keep from slipping. When Blaine had started fisting his cock Kurt nipped at the tender skin of Blaine's ass to get his attention.

“We should move to the bedroom,” he said.

“Hunh?” Blaine turned to look down at him, a little glassy eyed. Kurt stood and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling his back snug against him, knowing Blaine could feel Kurt’s erection pressing against his ass.

“You don't need to break your ankle two weeks before your Broadway debut.”

Blaine chuckled, nuzzling his head back against Kurt. “You're probably right.” Blaine twisted in Kurt’s arms, searching for a kiss Kurt willingly gave.

Kurt shut off the water, reaching for one of his oversized towels and wrapping Blaine in it long enough to keep him from dripping all over his apartment, then did the same for himself. Kurt’s bedroom was just on the other side of his small kitchen, so he led a naked Blaine through to his bedroom. Once inside Blaine pulled him in for another deep kiss.

“Do you want something? Water?”

Blaine shook his head, hands moving to stroke Kurt until he was hard. “Later.”

“Get on your belly then, I’m not done with you,” Kurt whispered, surprised at the husky sound of his own voice. Blaine grinned, ‘okay’, kissing Kurt once with a smack and scrambling to the bed. Kurt joined him, pressing lips against the back of his neck, arching so the length of his cock settled in the cleft of Blaine’s ass. Kurt wanted to take the time to explore; Blaine’s body was gorgeous and there was a lot to enjoy. He didn’t want to dwell on whether he would have another chance.

So he kissed across Blaine’s shoulders, licking the salty taste of the sweat that prickled on Blaine’s skin, even after the shower. Kurt kissed and bit, and memorized every sound Blaine made while he did. When he reached Blaine’s ass, he dug in, tongue firm against Blaine’s pucker until it was twitching, inviting. He pressed his thumb carefully against the invitation.

“Can I fuck you?” Kurt asked, loud in the quiet dark.

Blaine shifted, hugging a pillow under his chest. “Oh, god, I wish you would.”

Kurt scrambled to the side table, retrieving condoms and lube before settling between Blaine’s thighs and spreading them just a bit more. Blaine hitched his ass up in the air, spreading his cheeks wide. “You look amazing,” Kurt breathed; he had to slow down and squeeze his cock to keep under control. The last thing he wanted was to come before they even got started. He couldn’t embarrass himself now that they’d gotten this far.

He pressed his middle finger against Blaine’s twitching hole, teasing in and out a few times before sliding it up to the last knuckle; after a few twists, he added a second finger, turning them against the press of the tight muscle. Blaine sighed and Kurt could see and feel the tension leaving his body. “How many do you need?” he asked, stroking himself as his fingers worked Blaine open.

“One more.” Blaine hugged the pillow tighter and wriggled a little, fucking himself on Kurt’s fingers. “But not for long, just a little more.”

Kurt nodded, more to himself than to Blaine, who had pressed his face against the bed; he added more lube and a third finger, twisting them until he could feel the stretch. The god Kurt Blaine moaned was enough of a check in for Kurt, so he rolled on a condom and pressed his cock against Blaine’s hole. Blaine pushed back and Kurt watched as the head disappeared inside; he waited a moment for Blaine to nod, then pressed in, slowly. Blaine, gasping, begged him to move, and with one hand on the bed and one gripping Blaine’s shoulder he pulled out, pushing in again slowly, and again until they found a rhythm, Blaine working as eagerly to fuck Kurt as Kurt had ever had in a partner, if not more so.

“Mmm, Blaine?” Kurt bent low, mouthing at Blaine’s ear, his hips making a smacking noise as he “How long can I keep fucking you?”

Blaine twisted under Kurt, wrapping his arm around him and mouthing at his neck. “I don’t know,” he panted, almost giggling. “How long can you keep fucking me?”

Kurt bit at Blaine’s lip. “I see, okay.” Kurt mouthed at Blaine’s neck, then pulled back, pressing him down to the bed before sitting up on his knees. He pulled Blaine’s hips higher, but Blaine pushed up until he was on all fours, laughing as he glanced back at Kurt.

“Go on,” he invited.

Eyes locked onto Blaine’s, Kurt reached blindly for more lube, squirting an excessive amount into his hand before slicking his cock and wiping the excess over Blaine’s puffy hole. Eyes still on Blaine he pushed his cock back in, a satisfying thrill shooting up his spine when Blaine closed his eyes and gasped. After that there was no more talking, or teasing, or asking anything; just the slap of skin on hot skin, sweat dripping down Kurt’s back, droplets collecting in the dimples above Blaine’s ass. They fucked until Kurt’s thighs were shaking, until he was sure he would pass out if he came, until Kurt couldn’t hold off one more second. Then with a strangled cry that sounded like it could have been “Kurt,” Blaine reached for his cock and pushed back hard, grinding his ass against Kurt until he came, and Kurt could only give in, fucking them both through each pulse until they were spent.

Kurt could feel Blaine’s legs start to give out, so he grabbed him around his hips, holding him close until his cock softened and he had to pull out. Blaine fell to the bed with a muffled “nggghh.”

Kurt must have passed out for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes he was still wearing the used condom, and Blaine was naked and sprawled next to him on top of the coverlet, making snuffling noises. He took care of the condom first, then stood on wobbly legs and went to the bathroom. He considered a shower, given how much sweat had already dried on him, but sleep beckoned, so he wiped himself with the still damp towel from earlier and brought a wet towel for Blaine.

When he got back to the bedroom Blaine was still asleep. Kurt sat next to him on the edge of the bed, shaking his shoulder until he woke.

“Hey, I didn’t want to freak you out when I wiped up all the lube.” Kurt chuckled, and Blaine shifted until he was raised on his elbows. “We made quite the mess.”

“Mmm, yeah.” Blaine grinned sloppily. “No complaints.”

Kurt finished wiping the worst of it, and Blaine escaped to washup. While he was gone Kurt pulled the mussed covers off and sat on the bed. Should he put something on? Did Blaine want to stay? Kurt was pretty sure he wanted him to stay, but what would happen after the morning was anyone’s guess, Kurt wasn’t sure he could think that far. Was this the marathon to ‘get it out of their system’ that they’d apparently always needed? Or was there a future? Or maybe they’d just be friends after. Like they couldn’t manage to do when they were young and took everything too seriously.

He was still contemplating when Blaine rejoined him in the bedroom, still gloriously naked. Kurt had hooked up with some good looking men in the last six years, but Blaine was definitely in the top two.

“Hey,” Blaine said, sitting next to him on the bed. “I don’t know what you had in mind, but I’d really like to stay. If that’s okay.” The question was confident, but Blaine looked like he expected to be shot down. He wasn’t going to be, not tonight.

Kurt leaned in, kissing him almost chastely, considering their evening so far. “Please stay.”

[tigereye771]

New Year, New Beginnings, Part 10

Title:  New Year, New Beginnings

Part: 9/?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

Pairing: Jon/Sansa

“Bran! Arya! I swear if you two aren’t at the table eating breakfast in two minutes, I’m throwing it away!” Sansa yelled.  

“Geez, Sans, keep your panties on,” Arya grumbled as she stumbled into the kitchen, her hair and clothes disheveled.  “It’s just, Jon.”

“Who is doing us a big favor by agreeing to go car shopping with us,” Sansa replied as she placed a stack of pancakes neatly onto Arya’s plate.  “He’s doing all the driving and giving up his Sunday to do this.  The least we can do is be ready when he gets here.” She eyed Arya’s rumpled clothes and sighed.  “You could have made the effort to dress a bit more neatly.”

“Why? Again, I say this is Jon and I really don’t care what the car salesmen think about us,” Arya replied as she liberally doused her pancakes with syrup.  She eyed Sansa’s outfit of jeans and a light blue, cashmere sweater that made her eyes bluer and that she knew her sister only saved for special occasions suspiciously.  “Why are you so dressed up?”

“Because despite what you think, appearances do matter and maybe the salesmen will be more negotiable if they think we can truly afford a car and not look like we’ve rolled in from off the streets,” Sansa snapped back, though her cheeks pinked suspiciously.

Before Arya could quiz her sister further, Bran entered and Sansa was hastily providing him with his own stack of pancakes.  “What dealerships are we hitting?” he asked after thanking Sansa.

Sansa had given her sister a general list of requirements she had for the new car and with Gendry’s help, Arya had scoured the various dealership websites and what they had in stock that would meet their requirements and budget.  There weren’t many options, but they had a list of three possibilities.  As they were going over the list, the doorbell rang and Sansa hastened to answer it. Bran and Arya could hear voices in the hallway that got louder the nearer they got to the kitchen.  The two younger Starks looked up in surprise when a large, red haired man followed Jon and Sansa into the kitchen.

“Bran and Arya, I’d like you to meet my friend, Tormund,” Jon said as he introduced the two Starks to the big man.  “He insisted on coming with us today.”  Jon threw the other man an annoyed look.

“Pleased to meet you!” Tormund greeted, nearly crushing Bran’s hand in a hearty handshake.  The young man looked slightly startled, but when he went to shake Arya’s hand, the petite woman narrowed her eyes and met Tormund’s firm grip with one of her own.  Tormund’s eyebrows went up and his hand squeezed tighter.  Arya grinned wolfishly at him and increased the strength of her grip.

The back and forth would have continued but Jon broke it up.  “That’s enough you two.  Tormund, stop screwing around.”

“Arya, finish your breakfast,” Sansa admonished.  “Jon, Tormund, coffee and pancakes?”

“Oh, we couldn’t-,” Jon began, but Tormund simply pulled out an empty chair and sat down.  “Smells good!”

Sansa chuckled as Jon sighed in exasperation.  He gave her a soft smile of apology but she simply shook her head at him and pointed to the other empty chair.  “Sit. Eat.”  

“Aren’t you-?” Jon began.

“Oh, I had breakfast hours ago,” Sansa replied as she hurriedly began to pour and then expertly flip pancakes.  Arya had remembered some manners and got up to fetch mugs and coffee for their guests. Sansa placed several large pancakes on two plates and set one each before the two men.  “Syrup, butter and berries are on the table.  I have to finish pulling together the chili for when we get back.”

Arya and Bran, as soon as they found out Tormund had served with Jon, began to pepper the big man with questions about the military and whatever information he could give about their White Walker mission.  Jon was content to remain quiet, enjoying his pancakes, nevermind both he and Tormund had eaten earlier, and watch Sansa as she moved easily through the kitchen, chopping vegetables and adding spices to something in a crock pot.

The bright chatter of the others became pleasant background noise as Jon watched Sansa’s lithe figure and he unconsciously found himself taking in her every feature.  The soft curves of her body, the willowy length of her limbs, the way the sunlight from the kitchen window bathed her in a soft glow that turned her hair into molten copper and made her skin luminous.  He watched as she caught her pink, plump bottom lip between her white teeth and the length of her long, dark lashes.  He felt something stir within him, pleasant and familiar.

“Jon! Jon!”

He snapped out of his Sansa-induced haze to realize Arya had been calling his name and Tormund and Bran were regarding him with questioning eyes.  Arya’s own eyes narrowed suspiciously but she only said, “I have a list of dealers we think might have something we’re looking for and in our price range.”  She slid a piece of paper towards him.

Jon glanced at the list and nodded his head.  He knew where all of these dealerships were located.  “Shouldn’t be a big deal.  Hopefully they’ll have something that works for you.”

They finished up their breakfast and Arya and Bran cleared away the dishes as Sansa finished putting the rest of her ingredients into the crock pot.  She set it to slowly cook while they were away.  A few minutes later, they were in the SUV Jon had procured from Rhaegar’s extensive fleet of cars since it would accommodate Bran’s wheelchair and allow everyone to ride in comfort.  Jon was driving with Sansa in the front with him after Tormund had given Jon a broad wink and clambered into the back to continue his animated conversation with Bran and Arya.  At this point they were talking about twenty different ways Tormund knew how to disarm a knife wielding attacker.

“Breaking the cunt’s nose is always very effective,” Tormund boomed out.

“Tormund!” Jon yelled out in mortification as Arya and Bran cackled and Sansa looked at Jon’s blushing face with amusement.  “Sorry,” he muttered to Sansa.  “It wasn’t my idea that Tormund come along, but I had hoped he would be less of a crude oaf!” Jon raised his voice on this last part and directed it over his shoulder at his friend.

“I just speak plain truth, Jon Snow,” Tormund replied good-naturedly.  They had argued that morning, Jon not wanting the bigger man to accompany him, but Tormund had insisted, curious to meet the other two Starks and noting, “Seeing that pretty Sansa again won’t be a hardship.  And you say she will feed us.  I’m on board with that!”

His friend’s words had been good-natured, but Jon also knew Tormund wasn’t happy with his disappearance a few nights ago when he spent the night with the Starks.  While Jon had called to explain his whereabouts, Tormund had felt he was being neglectful of his bodyguard duties and once more said he was not to be Jon’s charity case: if he had a job, Jon needed to let him do it. Otherwise Tormund will go elsewhere to earn his keep.

“So, what are you looking for in a car?” Jon asked Sansa, ignoring his friend making off-colored remarks to Bran and Arya.

“Well, actually something like this car would be nice, but it’s outside of our budget.  Arya and her friend Gendry found a couple of possibilities at those three dealerships, but you know you can never rely on the ads. We’ll see if they actually have something there that works for us.”

“Well, Tormund and I are here just to provide transportation and intimidation if anyone becomes too much of a jerk,” Jon joked.

“Oh, trust me, Arya can be pretty intimidating,” Sansa smirked back at him.

Despite the combined intimidating presence of Tormund, Jon and Arya, they met with failure at all three of the car dealerships Arya had selected.  First they would have to deal with smarmy car salesmen who spoke to Jon or Tormund first, but when both men noted it was Sansa who was buying, their demeanor ranged from lascivious to condescending.  Worse, the cars were either not on the lot, “You just missed it! A lady bought it yesterday.  But here’s a great car that’s not too much more expensive.” Or the car wasn’t worth the effort.  Because of their limited budget, they had to buy a used car and Arya would immediately pop the hood and pull out her mini-flashlight to do a thorough examination.  She found major flaws in everything from cracks in the transmission to a wonky chasse to electronics that shouldn’t be in a coffee maker let alone in a car.

With only a hasty lunch in their bellies, the temperature quickly dropping and the light fading, the Starks were ready to call it a day and Arya and Sansa began discussing contingency plans on how they would get through the week without a second car.

“What about that lot?” Jon asked as he pointed to a car dealership to their left.  “’Mance Rayder’s Used Cars’.  Looks promising.”

Sansa sighed loudly. She was tired and the lunch wasn’t the greatest.  She had been leered at and spent the day with men who thought Jon or Tormund must speak for her or that she was too stupid to negotiate for her own car deal.  The last thing she wanted to do was to deal with another salesman.

“Come on, Sansa, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at what they have.  A sweep through the lot and if you don’t see anything promising, we’ll go home.”  Jon looked pleading at her and neither of them noticed he said “we’ll go home.”

“Oh, alright,” Sansa sighed. “Fifteen minutes wouldn’t hurt.”

Jon did a neat U-turn at a light and then pulled into the lot of Mance Rayder’s Used Cars.  It was getting late and colder so there was no one about.  They leisurely walked up and down the aisles until Bran suddenly called out to his sisters.

“Arya!  Sansa!  Take a look at this one!”

They hurried over to Bran’s side and before them stood an SUV, the same make as the car Jon was driving, but a few years older.  It was a dark blue and on the outside appeared to be in very good condition.

“Ahhh, I see you’ve found something you like.”

A deep, gravelly voice behind them had the group turning around.  A tall man who’s faced looked as though it was hewed from granite stood behind them.  He had a warm, down coat zipped up over his brown suit and a red scarf tied around his neck.  “Mance Rayder and it seems you’re interested in this beauty.”

“Maybe,” Arya replied, “But we’ll see if the inside is as pretty as the outside.”  She pulled out her flashlight and softly tapped it against the palm of her other hand.

Mance stared at her a moment before bursting out in laughter.  “Aye, you seem to know what you want, young lady.  Let me get the keys and you can go over it from tip to tail with a fine tooth comb.”

After a test drive and a close inspection by Arya, the Starks, Jon and Tormund were gathered around Mance’s desk inside his small office.  Sansa and Arya sat across from Mance and Bran was on Arya’s other side in his wheelchair. Both Jon and Tormund leaned against the wall by the doorway, offering moral support as Sansa and Mance haggled over the price with Arya occasionally chiming in with a scoffing comment such as, “Did you see the paint peeling on the right hand side?  And you still want that much money?”

Finally, after 45 minutes of back and forth, they settled on a price that came in at the very highest end of Sansa’s budget, but was still doable, especially in light of the commissions she was making from her part-time job.  However, it still seemed low to Sansa and she was trying to figure out if there was something wrong with the car.  According to Arya, there wasn’t.  In fact, the car was in too good of a condition with very little mileage on it considering the age.  Sansa wasn’t deluding herself that she was that good of a negotiator so she asked Mance point blank why he was willing to let the car go at such a low price.

“It’s because it hasn’t moved in months,” Mance told her.  “I can’t keep inventory on my lot for too long.  My business depends on me moving things quickly.  If I have to cut a price and get a lower profit on it, it’s actually more beneficial to me in the end to free up the space.”  It seemed like a reasonable explanation, but there was still a small niggle of doubt in Sansa’s mind.

Mance had stepped out a moment to work up the necessary paperwork and check Sansa’s credit rating. When he came back, he was solemn.

“I’m sorry, Miss Stark, but after checking on your credit rating, I can’t offer you the interest rate we agreed upon.  It’ll need to be double that.”

“What?!” Sansa exclaimed. At that rate, she wouldn’t be able to make the monthly payments.  “What’s wrong with my credit rating?  I pay my bills on time.”

“It’s the lack of assets too,” Mance reply.  He shook his head soberly.  “I’m sorry, it’s just too much of a risk for me to sell to you.”

Sansa sat back in her seat, exhausted and utterly defeated.  It had been a long day and the negotiating with Mance had been drawn out and she was so tired but no closer to solving her problem.  She let out a weary sigh.  “Come on, guys, let’s go home.”

“Unless,” Mance began hesitantly.  He glanced at Jon and Tormund.  “Someone can co-sign the loan with you.”  

Sansa stilled. “What?”

“If you had someone co-sign, someone with an acceptable credit background, we can go back to the original interest rate.   You’d still be primarily responsible for the loan, but if you default, your co-signer will be on the hook.”

Sansa bit her lip.  “I don’t know of anyone-“

“I’ll do it,” Jon said coming forward.  “What information do you need to run a credit check?”

“No, Jon, you don’t have-“ Sansa began.

“Excellent!” Mance beamed. “I know who you are Captain Snow and have no worries about your credit worthiness.  I just need you sign here and Miss Stark here.”  He pointed to the appropriate spaces on the form before Sansa.

Jon stepped forward and scrawled his signature while Sansa hesitated.  “Sansa?  It’s not a handout.  I’m just helping you guarantee your loan.  Think of it as added incentive to pay it off on time or even sooner.”

Sansa continued to worry her bottom lip.  She looked over at Arya and Bran.  Her sister gave her a small nod and Sansa finally picked up the pen and signed her name.

Fifteen minutes later, the Starks were in their new car, heading home.  Jon told them he and Tormund would follow but as soon as the Starks pulled out of the parking lot, Jon was turning on Mance.

“What the hell was that?!” Jon roared at the car salesman.  

“Improvising!” Mance replied cheerily.  “Your girlfriend was becoming suspicious of the low price that you negotiated with me yesterday.  That one is too sharp to fool too long.  She would have worried on it.”

“Oh, and tying me to her car loan now isn’t suspicious?” Jon shot back.

“Not if I was the one who brought it up.  You don’t exactly have the best poker face, my boy.  Anyone could see that you were surprised when I suggested you co-sign. No, any doubts Miss Stark had are now laid to rest.”

Jon continued to grumble as he drove away with Tormund who regarded him silently.

“What?” Jon snapped.

“So you arranged all that with the car salesman?”

Jon sighed. “Yes.  Yesterday, I worked out a deal with Mance to sell any car that Sansa may want at a lower price.”

“Ahh, all done behind the Stark girl’s back.  Yes, that type of thing always works out well,” Tormund said in a sarcastic voice.

Jon scowled at him. “I wasn’t going to let Sansa buy something inappropriate and unsafe simply because she couldn’t afford anything better.  She won’t accept help from me, so I had to resort to other ways.”

“And you see nothing wrong with deceiving her?”

“I’m doing it for her sake. And Bran and Arya’s!”

“But that’s not for you to decide what is good for them. “

“Sansa’s damn pride is blinding her.  I won’t let her needlessly sacrifice for something I can do so easily for her.”

“So you take her choices from her?”

“I didn’t take anything form her!  She got to pick what car she wanted!”

Tormund stared at him a moment and then simply shook his head. “Remind me not to be around if that one ever finds out you went behind her back.  Oh, don’t worry, she won’t hear it from me, but eventually, secrets come out and it’s never pretty when they do.”

Jon reaches the Stark house only a few minutes after the others.  Arya is right by the front door to fling it open before Jon can knock.

“Sansa says supper will be ready in a half hour.  She’s baking the cornbread now,” Bran says as he wheels himself out of the kitchen. “And our other guests haven’t arrived.”

“Other guests?” Jon asked. The doorbell rings and Arya answer it. Jon can hear her greeting someone and the sound of two masculine voices.  He turns to face the new arrivals.

One is a tall, dark haired young man, broad of shoulders who Arya introduces as her friend, Gendry.  

The other man is taller than everyone else in the room and one side of his face is scarred by old burns. He regards Jon and Tormund with suspicious and hostile eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t pretty boy and his lap dog,” Sandor says by way of greeting.

[ibroughtthisonmyselfpixels]

No Return Policy

A Between-Preludes Ficlet Where Certain Clothes Take Some Adjusting to Fit Sims with One Leg

Warning: contains the use of an ableist slur, specifically one against physically disabled people, used by a physically disabled person against himself. It has been censored, but I felt it important for him to use it in this instance, to reflect his mental state at the time. It may also discuss some of the ways cis people inherently see trans people at one point, albeit briefly.

hey jsyk you left 1 of ur bags of clothes in my room? cnt remember what u wanted to do w/it so im just leavin it on the bed. drive careful x

Rigel waits for the text’s ‘delivered’ notice to pop up before flopping with a huff onto his bed, which jostles the bag he’s talking about. Weak as it is, this is the best he can do for now. By the time he found it, Lorelei’d already left with the car, so yelling from the doorway was out; phoning her will be pretty much impossible; and there’s no way he’s taking the subway just to deliver a black sack full of her old clothes to her. Not even his fondness for her can conquer that hot mess of public ‘transport’.

The scrap of lined paper that’s serving as a label is falling off, barely hanging by one sticky-taped corner at this point. SALLY POSS., it says. But what the hell would Sally want with any of Lor’s stuff? Sally’s twice her size. Unless... argh, dammit, I know she explained this before. What is this for?

It’s one of the curses of living with your best-friend-cum-ex-girlfriend, he thinks, scratching his stump. You grow complacent. 

Which isn’t in itself a bad thing - he wouldn’t be staying here at all if they weren’t still enough in sync that they could get away with it. (Some people he’s talked to about it think it’s weird, that it creates an awkward atmosphere after the break-up. But honestly, he thinks it’d be even more awkward for him to just up and walk away from what’s a good thing in its own right just because one small side of it went wrong. Who do they think he is? The guy from that Dashed Hearts sitcom?) He takes care of the mechanical side of things and makes it a functioning house; she fills it with her music and makes it a home. When she’s got too few spoons to make them dinner, he orders pizza; when he’s had a rough day, she’s already turned all the lights down. It just - it works.

Except on days like this, where he’s caught short by not paying as much attention as he should have, and now he’s got a bag of clothes bound neither for Goodwill nor the garbage, taking up space. 

Maybe if I look through some of them, I’ll remember why they’re in there? He side-eyes the bag again. I mean, I saw her put them all in piles, sort them out. I helped her do it, for god’s sake. (Admittedly, he mostly added to the ‘keep’ pile.) It’s gotta jog my memory somehow. And it’ll give me something to do while Lor’s out, anyway.

Before he can change his mind, he pulls it closer to him, almost-tears it open - the label finally peels off and floats to the floor - and starts rifling through what’s inside.

An old frilly red top comes out first. Then a crumpled-up black V-neck, with a glittering tiger design on it; that’s tossed off quickly. A pair of orange pumps, with - wait, was that heel splitting before or after it went in the bag? He sets them aside for now; maybe he can add some glue to them later. White distressed jeans; that one makes sense. She’s never been in the market for jeans, comfortable or stylish. A bundled up pair of tights, some white leggings, yellow t-shirt with sun motifs, yellow this, brown that...

Man, Lorelei really does have a knack for this color coordination shit. ‘specially for a Banilla. ...wonder if it’s the autism that does it? I mean, half the chicks I’ve known couldn’t get on this level, he speculates, adding some dresses to the ever-increasing out-of-the-sack pile. Or am I bias? I dunno. Maybe I am. Or maybe she just looks so comfy in her clothes that they look better by association.  Wish I could be that comfy in mine. 

His thoughts take on an all-too-familiar bitter tone, and not for the first time that day, his amputation sticks out too strongly where he’s sitting. A literal double-edged sword: source of pride for survival; source of scorn and shame in blackest nights when every word spoken, in bitterness or sincerity, comes back to him. Ugly leg, ugly eyebrow, ugly face, ugly figure... Crack it open the wrong way, and he bets all the uglinesses in him will fall out. 

Fucking Saul. Fucking Bernadette. Fucking Gabe. Motherfucking Gabe’s fucking stupid fucking MMBC, leaving everyone dead but the fucking cr*pple, too low brow to fucking kick it. Fucking me for ever thinking I could fuckin--

A flash of sunset filling up his vision stops his long, long string of expletives. He blinks as though blinded, then the fog lifts and he realizes that he’s grabbed one of Lorelei’s more vibrant skirts in his distraction. Shifting it so he’s holding it from the top, he takes a better look at it. It’s multi-layered and ruffled, sort of like a flower; her standard yellow on top, down to orange, down to a red so dark it’s like... no, not like that, not like Bryce round the jaws of the glittering - like the YouTube logo! Yeah, that works. 

Lorelei wore this for their first-but-actually-second-if-you-count-their-first-meeting-ever date, her and Rigel’s. It looked good on paper, but it didn’t really sit on her hips well - he knew it, she knew it, neither actually said so because, you know, tact; and yet it was so very obvious that he hasn’t seen it on her since. He strokes the fabric absently. Almost a shame she’s getting rid of it. This relic, almost, this beginning of a better part of his life is in his hands, on the cusp of being thrown away. Maybe if it fit him better than her, she wouldn’t have to--

That last thought throws him up short.

Whoa. Come on, Rigel. Thought you’d cracked this. Haven’t had that urge for weeks. His wonky brows knit together at the lie. Okay, days. Haven’t had that urge for days. But you can’t go back on it now, you can’t act on it now! What the hell would Lor think? Cam freaked out and he was a fucking saint, what’s she gonna do if she comes back and...? 

...but she’s not coming back, and probably won’t be back for another few hours, and the decadence of the skirt cascades over his leg, drowning it out with the familiar comforting whisper of ~wear me, wear me~ he’s heard so oft...

...okay, a few minutes. Half an hour. Half an hour won’t hurt.

His trousers struggle and scratch against him, as though pleading for him to change his mind; he pushes through regardless. They always do that - always have. Through high scholarship, internship, relationship. And it’s never stopped the skirts from sliding on like silken butter, as the surviving leg pokes through, then the other, the hem stopping just at the empty knee. Never stops her heel (his? his... her heel) from stretching, landing, poised, dusted with imaginary glitter. Never stops the material clinging to her waist as she hoists herself up, brushes herself off - a little too tight, but so close to just right. 

A few elastic burns are a small price to pay for feeling human.

With every step in the flowing mass of cotton and cloth towards the full length mirror in the bathroom across the hall, the thick tar that makes up Rigel Maurer drips down, seeps through the floorboards to be someone else’s problem. It’s an unknown, unseen, copper-hair(ed-legged) fatale making this walk now, swinging open the door. Beautiful. Worthwhile in her own right. Alive, despite everything, despite all that--

She jerks back involuntarily, inches from the mirror. Fuck, the skirt’s got caught on the door handle.  Okay, don’t panic. She can handle this. It’s just by a belt loop - hell kind of skirt has belt loops anyway? If she tugs this way - no, this way, it ought to be able to slip out - no, nothing doing. Come on, if she just tugs-- 

She hears the tearing sound before she sees it. All else gets swamped up in the sudden rush of falling, crashing with an undignified thud. Pain cracks through the calf, and the skull; he’s hit his head on the sink. The room spins uncontrollably, scattered with stars, as he pushes himself back, tries to get his bearings. 

The first thing he sees as his vision clears is the skirt, prone on the floor, ripped clean in half from top to bottom.

“Oh shit.” 

The next hour or so goes by in a blind panicked blur for the now-re-trousered Rigel, and by the end of it the remains of the thing are, in this order: flattened out; frayed at the side where he tried and failed to do a basic blanket stitch; covered in flecks of masking tape on the inside; crumpled up after being tossed at the wall; and finally, in desperation, stuffed into a plastic bag from Mike’s Cornerstore and balanced precariously on top of a whole load of other clothes in the top of his closet. After that, for the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon, he halfheartedly puts the things he took out back into the SALLY POSS sack and potters about the house, making no attempt to escape the pitch black thundercloud over his head.

Who, besides himself, did he think he was fooling? 

Since life has a bad habit of throwing everything bad at once at him, he hears the hodge-podge skirt fall out of the closet for the third time seconds before Lorelei’s car returns home, engine sounding like it’s seen better days. He’s barely got it back in place before he hears her coming, engrossed in conversation - crap crap crap - and he swings the door shut over him before he can think twice to escape. Better in here than out there, right?

“--my head if it wasn’t screwed on, Sally.” His friend’s voice is loud through the wood, soft-spoken though it is. “I swear I had the bag with the others-”

“Honestly, it’s fine! Anything that gives me a chance to visit is fine. I love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Y-yes, well. That’s mostly Rigel’s... Anyway, it’s over here, on the bed. There should be enough in there for you to work with.”

He hears Sally’s wheelchair humming into the room, then a low whistle and a rustling through. “Hoo-ee, Lorelei, you didn’t have to get this many!”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

“No, hon, I’m not knocking you for - wow, look at all this! This’ll be great to get me started!” More ruffling. “Etsy’s gonna flip when they see this.”

Etsy? Isn’t that-

“Oh, did you leave that old rahrah skirt of yours in there too? Like I asked?”

“I think so? I can’t see it now, but I know we put it in there...”

“AAAAAAA! You’re an angel! A, a preemptive angel - you know what I mean! That old thing’s gonna make the best lampshade you ever did see once I resize it - I’ll have to show you when it’s done!”

In an instant, everything Lorelei explained comes rushing back. “Fuck, of course, she’s gonna repurpose them!” he cries. 

...cries a little louder than he intended, he realizes belatedly; for the next moment, the door swings open, sending the bag once again tumbling onto his head, and she’s got this curious bewildered look all over her face.

“Rigel? What are you doing in the closet?”

“Uh... I, I thought I’d practice coming out of it again. Hey, Sally,” he yells over her shoulder, “I’m bi! Thought you’d like to know.” 

Sally cracks up - she knew that old chestnut about him long ago. But Lorelei, as clear through her ghost of a smile, isn’t quite as impressed with the bluff. (To be fair, who could blame her? It was weak even by his standards.) “No, seriously. Is everything okay?”

“Well, depends how you define--” The object that got him in this predicament in the first place flops down again into his hands as he moves his head, reminding him of its inevitable conclusion. “Ah, right. The skirt. Here you go. I mean, might as well.” 

She takes it gratefully, without question why it’s in a separate bag, and with a “Here, catch,” throws it over to Sally.

“Oh, - just to warn you two, the thing might be a little more, uh...”  But his warning comes a little too late, as she’s already lifting what’s more like a scarf than a skirt out of the bag. “...pre-ripped.”

“Um. Well, okay? That’s convenient!” chirps Sally. “It means I don’t have to go to the tro--”

“No, no no, it wasn’t meant to come like that!” Lorelei’s golden eyes are wide behind her glasses in panic, making him squirm between the coathangers. As ill-advised as the thing was, it’s probably hard for her to see it in such a state... and all the harder when she turns back to him in even more confusion. “You saw me put it in there, didn’t you? It wasn’t ripped before.”

“Y-yeah. I know.”

“W...well, well, how’d it get ripped? It can’t have just done that by itself. Could it?”

A thousand pathetic excuses rear up in Rigel’s throat like last night’s cheap wine. A stray cat did it, a washing machine, a passing gnome, a robber. No, all too unbelievable. But he won’t tell her the truth, he won’t. It’s selfish, it’s ridiculous. She’s never going to believe it if he says that-

“I was wearing it, okay?”

...but nor can he lie to her face. Not to Lorelei’s face.

“...you were wearing it?” she parrots.

“Yeah. I was looking through all the stuff and I found it, and I put it on for a bit, and it got caught on the door handle and it just - it tore.” It all spills out before he can stop himself. “I tried to fix it, really I did, I couldn’t remember if she wanted it intact or what, and, and and it’s not... It’s just something I do sometimes, y’know - wear skirts - or dresses or other such, but not like in front of anyone, it’s not a fetish thing, I - if that’s what you’re thinking... It just helps me not be Rigel sometimes. Helps be feel less Rigel and more... more me. If that makes any sense. Probably doesn’t. Y-y’know.” 

It’s a long and rambly speech for someone like (more-)Rigel to make, especially spur of the moment. And the fact that Lorelei’s expression only softens slightly during it doesn’t help his nerves. But when she senses he’s done, she lets loose a sigh that cuts into his eardrums. 

“Okay. Thanks for telling me, Rigel. That was...” She pauses, looking somewhere above him - probably for any more surprises. When none arrive, she adds evenly, “Okay. I’m going to go check on Sally. I’ll let you calm down in here if you want.” (Belatedly, it occurs to him that Sally actually slipped out of the room while he was doing all that talking.)

“Thanks. ...Lor, I’m really sorry--”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

She ignores that, heads to the living room. 

“Cus it really feels like you’re mad at me!” he calls, but again, she’s gone before he can finish. Feeling like a lemon, he finally steps out of his dark cramped box, but still opts to stay in his room for the rest of Sally’s visit, just to stay out of their way. It’s for the best.

Lorelei doesn’t approach the subject again even after Sally leaves, with the evidence of Rigel’s transgressions tucked into the rest of her clothes; nor does she bring it up by morning. In a way, it makes sense: that kind of revelation isn’t something you just discuss at the breakfast table. But even when he tentatively asks her again if she’s mad at him still, she deflects the subject onto what’s in the morning paper, and it feels wrong to press the point again after that... 

Still, he almost wishes she’d just tell him to move out and take his sickness with him and get it over with. It’d be better than this hanging over his head.

That sense of anxiety follows him through his work day as well. He starts his Fixit duties by, at both her request and his instinct, looking at the car. It turns out that the cam shaft belt is slipping off, which he takes care of with his usual expediency - he even tops up the oil in a (possibly futile) attempt to sweeten the pot - and that in turn allows her to set off for ‘some more last-minute shopping’. He’s got a series of pretty furious repairs to get through besides that, too: a washing machine at the Bumble place, one of the projectors at the cineplex which takes up most of the day, and a park-based porta-potty that ‘conveniently’ clogged itself just after two Hope’s Peak students got caught making out in it. Not to mention his usual weekly check-in at the local pool to see if that’s still running smoothly; fortunately, things still seem to be in order. 

It’s quite late by the time he gets home, and Lorelei still hasn’t returned, as far as he can see. No dinner on the stove, nor any sound of her in the house... though, he discovers, his bedroom door is ajar, enticingly so. His heart drops into his stomach, and he enters to face what’s surely a letter of regret, or an eviction notice, or something like that.

...what he finds instead is a well made bed, and another skirt on top of the bed.

He gasps - he can’t help himself. It’s... glamour! It’s long, he estimates about ankle-length, and looks almost like it’s made of leather, or faux-leather at the very least. And though it’s not as brightly colored as the last one he tried, it’s a deep brown flecked with lighter shades, perfectly matching the jacket he has on. He hops over to it, barely believing it’s real and in his room, touching it to make sure... no, surprisingly it’s still cotton! Very soft indeed! This’ll be a dream to - 

wait, is it for...? He lifts it up and off to make sure there’s no sign that it’s just a joke, and there’s a receipt underneath it. The telltale signs of Lorelei’s scattershot handwriting bleed through from the other side.

R, I have a feeling this one might fit you better than my old one. You can keep it on when I get back round 7pm if you want so I can see how it looks. I hope it does suit you - this store has a no return policy. - L x

A wild laugh escapes him as he hugs the skirt close. “Lorelei, you deceptive little miracle-worker...!” 

Unlike before, he wastes no time in getting this one on. (Except to head to the bathroom beforehand - he’s not making the same mistakes again.) The second it slides up, near seamlessly but for a zip on the side, over her hips, it feels like coming home in one swift motion. All the fears of the day dissipate in that oh-so-comfortable fit, that swooshing sound of fabric, the shaking loose of limbs and of notions and of names that have plagued her for minutes hours eons. It just screams... It doesn’t even scream Rigel. It screams her.

...so why, then, standing there in her new self, does something still not work about it? The mirror image seems just fine: top half false, bottom half real. Skirt over leg... and stump.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe the strongest beauty is also in being a little ugly. A little - risky.

With that thought pulsing through her head, she rifles through the medicine cabinet, pulls out a dainty pair of scissors, and tears a long slit up the right side of her skirt. Both loose flaps are picked up, then tucked into the top, letting her amputation shine through, true and - god forbid - proud.

“Perfect.”